America's No. 1 financial conglomerate

Chapter 586 The World's Top Club

In the heart of Manhattan, just 200 meters from the bustling Madison Avenue and a mere ten-minute walk from the tranquil and spacious Central Park, lies an ordinary street called 62nd Street.

It lacks the glitz and glamour of Fifth Avenue and the fame of Park Avenue; it's so unremarkable that you wouldn't believe you're standing here in the high-rise-filled Manhattan district.

But within the elite circles who truly control the world's economic lifeline and dictate top-level rules, this name is like a hidden totem.

Because this is home to the United Club, hailed by the upper class as the most powerful private club in the world.

The century-old plane trees lining both sides of the street isolate the bustling commercial district not far away, and the gentle breeze and the occasional bird song create an elegant picture of tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle.

The neoclassical style features stone walls that have a warm luster from the erosion of time, without any ostentatious decorations. Even the club's sign is hidden among the carved columns above the entrance.

When it comes to top private clubs in the United States, most people will immediately think of the Metropolitan Club, founded by J.P. Morgan.

"It is a gathering place for Wall Street financial giants and industry leaders, and is known for its luxurious facilities and extensive social networks."

"But when it comes to true style and power, United Club is the undisputed pinnacle."

Standing at the entrance of the United Club, looking at the extremely ordinary facade and the narrow entrance, and listening to Enron CEO Jeff Skilling's感慨 (feelings of emotion), even excitement, Ernst couldn't quite understand it.

"If I had to choose, I'd still prefer the Metropolitan Club." Skilling gave him a disapproving look and argued, "It doesn't pursue superficial prosperity, but it firmly occupies the top of the power pyramid. Those who can step into this place are the true minority standing at the top of the world."

"Since you like it so much, why don't you join the club?" Ernst said in a flat tone.

It's a club, if you like it, just join. Why are you getting so excited?

"I'd like to..." Skilling stopped abruptly before he could finish speaking, his excitement freezing on his face.

He abruptly turned to look at Ernst, his eyes filled with disbelief, as if he had heard something out of the blue. "You...you haven't been here before?"

Ernst shook his head frankly. What's so great about it?

"So you invited me here?" Skilling's eyes widened suddenly, his face filled with astonishment, as if to say, "Are you kidding me?" "Do you know that the United Club is the most exclusive private club in the United States, with the strictest membership system? Without a member's personal accompaniment, outsiders have no right to set foot in. We might even be kicked out."

Just thinking about how this club is full of New York celebrities made Skilling want to cover his face.

As the CEO of Enron, he held a prominent position in the business world.

If I were kicked out in front of these people, it would probably spread throughout America's top social circles tomorrow and become a source of amusement. That would be incredibly embarrassing.

"Then just get a membership," Ernst said casually, then strode toward the club's entrance, looking completely at ease, as if he were just going into an ordinary coffee shop.

"Do you think membership cards are like supermarket coupons? You can't just get one whenever you want!" Skilling reached out to grab Ernst, wanting to leave before they went inside and avoid being humiliated. "Without a formal invitation from an existing member, you don't even qualify to apply for membership." Skilling's movements were ultimately a step too slow. The instant he reached out, Ernst had already stepped forward, raised his hand, pushed open the old-fashioned wooden door, and walked straight inside.

Skilling stood frozen in place, unsure whether to leave or stay.

Staying would likely mean being kicked out along with Ernst, becoming a laughingstock in America.

But if I turn around and leave now, wouldn't that be too unfair? How can we get along like this in the future?

Just as Skilling was lost in thought, anxious and conflicted, his expression shifting constantly, the wooden door that had just been closed was opened again.

A doorman in a crisp uniform with a humble face came out, approached Skilling, and bowed slightly. "Mr. Skilling, Mr. Garfield invites you in."

"Okay, we..." Jeff Skilling instinctively wanted to apologize, explain that he had intruded unintentionally, and leave.

But as he was about to speak, he suddenly froze, wondering if he had misheard.

He pointed to his nose, his face full of confusion. "You...you were just talking to me?"

The doorman was also taken aback, thinking to himself: This CEO of energy giant Enron doesn't seem to be very bright.

This time, Skilling heard it clearly, confirming that he wasn't hallucinating. He coughed lightly, quickly adjusting his expression, suppressing his earlier panic and confusion, and regaining the gentlemanly demeanor of an energy tycoon, nodding slightly and saying, "Lead the way."

As Skilling followed the doorman into the club lobby, his eyes were immediately drawn to the scene inside.

In contrast to the understated simplicity of the exterior, the interior decoration is the epitome of luxury and elegance, exuding a restrained style throughout.

In the corner sofa area, Ernst was sitting leisurely on a dark brown leather sofa, in a relaxed posture.

A waiter in a white uniform was respectfully placing a steaming cup of coffee on the coffee table in front of him.

He then bowed slightly and stepped aside.

When he saw Skilling enter, Ernst looked up and gestured.

After Skillin sat down, the waiter bowed and asked, "Mr. Skillin, what would you like to drink? We have top-quality coffee beans, various kinds of black tea, and a selection of fine wines."

Skilling took the drink menu from the waiter, glanced at it, and without hesitation said, "Black Ivory Coffee, please."

Ernst paused noticeably as he brought the coffee cup to his lips, wondering why anyone would drink such a thing.

Everyone knows that civet coffee is coffee beans naturally excreted by wild civets in Indonesia. Black Ivory coffee, as the name suggests, is made from elephant droppings.

This is the product of fermentation caused by Thai elephants consuming Arabica beans. 22 kilograms of fresh beans yield only 1 pound of finished product, making it more expensive than civet coffee. However, Ernst is less than impressed. There are plenty of good coffees in the world; why drink excrement?

After the waiter left, Ski quietly glanced around to make sure no one could hear their conversation before speaking, "Didn't you say you'd never been here before? Why are you a member?"

He felt that Ernst was playing a trick on him, like an owner teasing a kitten.

Ernst paused for a moment, looking somewhat innocent. "I really haven't been here before."

"Then how do you come to have a membership card here?" Skilling pressed.

If he was able to get in, it must have nothing to do with him, so it can only mean that Ernst is a member here.

"You mean a membership? Louis told me before that he wanted to invite me to join a club and go through the membership process. At the time, I thought it was just a private club that one of his friends had recently opened, so I didn't pay much attention and just casually agreed."

Fearing Skilling might not know who Louis was, he added, "Louis Astor."

Skilling was somewhat amused and exasperated; the club, known as the most powerful in the world, was being mistaken by Ernst for some newly opened clubhouse.

However, he quickly realized, "Wait a minute, you just said at the door that you only need one membership if you don't have one. What does that mean?"

What does that mean?

Ernst thought Skilling was being a bit too sensitive. "Hey, didn't you say you really like this club? If you like it, why don't you just get a membership?" "Get a membership?" Skilling thought, "Do you think everyone's like you?"

He took a deep breath and patiently explained, "You have no idea how strict the membership standards are here."

"First, you must have a recommendation from an existing member; this is just the most basic requirement. After that, the club's review committee will conduct a comprehensive and thorough investigation into the applicant's background, family history, social status, and personal achievements."

"Only those who meet all the standards can be approved for membership."

"Now that you mention it, this club seems pretty impressive," Ernst said, putting down his coffee.

Skilling didn't know if the other party was genuinely unaware or feigning ignorance, but surprisingly, they didn't know about the United Club.

"Why do you think this club is called the most prestigious and powerful club in the world?"

Skilling explained, "It's because of its strict membership standards over the past hundred years that its members are among the most powerful people in the world."

He lowered his voice, "All kinds of presidents, princes, billionaires, members of those century-old families, etc., only these top-level people can become members of this club."

"Only members like Roosevelt, Grant, and Eisenhower, as well as core members of the DuPont, Hearst, and Astor families, are qualified to become members here."

Skilling seemed to be showing off a bit, explaining to Ernst, "Do you know why J.P. Morgan founded the Metropolitan Club?"

"Seriously?" Ernst asked. "You could say that," Skilling continued, his tone tinged with a touch of melancholy. "This club has turned down quite a few celebrities, including railroad magnate Vanderbilt and John King, a friend of J.P. Morgan and chairman of the Erie Railroad at the time. So J.P. Morgan founded the Metropolitan Club."

Would you risk everything for a friend?

Ernst raised an eyebrow, finding it somewhat interesting.

However, he now truly felt the prestige of this club.

One Vanderbilt, one John King.

Vanderbilt goes without saying, but John King's Erie Railroad was situated on the economic belt of the United States at the time, running from New York all the way to the Great Lakes region.

The fact that John King could become friends with JP Morgan shows that he was no ordinary person at the time, yet he was still rejected.

No wonder Skilling looked like he was on a pilgrimage; no matter how large the company was, he was always a professional manager.

Compared to presidents and people from centuries-old families, he is far less influential.

If it weren't for me, he probably wouldn't have been qualified to come in in his entire life.