The next day, Allen, accompanied by Miller and his security team, officially took over the massive complex.
As the heavy iron gates slowly closed behind them, a different kind of ambition, far grander than what they felt in the basement, surged in everyone's hearts.
"Sir, what should we do now?"
Jones looked at the sprawling, empty factory floor, his eyes filled with both excitement and a hint of bewilderment.
Allen didn't answer directly.
He pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket and spread it out on a relatively clean stone slab in the center of the factory.
It was the factory renovation blueprint he had personally drawn the previous night, having stayed up all night.
"Our work is divided into three parts."
Allen's voice, carrying a slight echo due to the vast space, sounded particularly clear and powerful.
"Miller, your security team is responsible for the first and most crucial part—security. I want you to comb through the entire factory area like a fine-tooth comb. All walls, blind spots, and entry/exit points must have defensive and patrol plans established. Before I turn this place into a gold mine, you must first turn it into an impregnable fortress."
"Yes, sir!"
Miller stood at attention and saluted, his eyes filled with a soldier's obedience.
"Jones," Allen turned to his other assistant, "you and your men are responsible for the second part—logistics and cleanup. All materials from the basement are to be transported here in batches. At the same time, recruit temporary workers to clean every floor tile and every wall of this factory with water and brushes. I want this place to be cleaner than any resident's kitchen."
"Yes!"
Allen's finger tapped the core area of the blueprint.
"And I will be responsible for designing and renovating this place. I want to build the most efficient food production line in New York—no, in all of America—right here."
He outlined some of his ideas to his team for the first time.
"We can no longer cook everything in one pot. We need division of labor; we need an assembly line."
He drew with charcoal on the ground, "Raw materials will be transported from the east gate directly into the washing area; then to the cutting area, where dedicated personnel will be responsible for cutting beef into uniform specifications; the cut meat will then enter the cooking area."
He pointed to the massive furnace in the distance.
"We will modify it to provide stable steam heating for ten huge copper cauldrons. This will be much more uniform and efficient than burning coal briquettes."
"The cooked stew will follow this line to the canning area. Then comes the sealing area. I will design a new canning machine driven by a foot pedal lever, which will allow a skilled worker to operate at more than three times the efficiency of a hand-cranked machine. Finally, there will be a high-temperature sterilization and cooling area, with finished products directly entering storage and being loaded onto trucks from the west gate for transport."
What he described was not the automated assembly line of later generations, but a revolutionary idea based on "process optimization."
It involved breaking down complex production processes into simple, standardized steps, with each worker responsible for only one part.
This "sequential" management philosophy, in that era, was enough to spark a revolution in production efficiency.
Miller and Jones listened dumbfounded. Although they couldn't fully comprehend all the details, they could feel that an unprecedented, efficient, and grand production model was being born from Allen's words.
However, the grander the plan, the more Allen found his energy being infinitely dispersed.
Over the next few days, he was swamped.
He had to discuss new equipment design and renovation plans with the blacksmiths and engineers he hired, supervise the workers' cleanup and relocation progress, and personally go to slaughterhouses and raw material suppliers to sign larger-scale procurement agreements.
At the same time, various paperwork flooded him like a tide.
New factory regulations, land deeds and tax documents, salary calculations for twenty newly recruited workers, daily records of raw material intake and finished product output, order verification and payment settlement with merchants like Gable... He spent at least five hours every day dealing with these tedious but vital numbers and documents.
This greatly encroached upon his time for strategic thinking and technical improvements.
Late one night, when Allen, annoyed by a messy account, once again threw down his pen, he admitted that he needed a helper.
Not a strategist to offer advice, because the most core strategies would always remain hidden in his own mind.
He needed someone who could translate his commands and ideas into clear entries, accurate figures, and ensure that everything was orderly and flawless.
He needed an office manager, a clear-headed, absolutely reliable secretary.
The next day, he found Mr. Gable, who was directing workers in moving the last batch of materials.
"Mr. Gable, excuse me for a moment. I'd like to ask your advice on something."
"Williams, look how tired you are!" Mr. Gable wiped his sweat. "Just say what's on your mind, no need to be formal between us."
"I'm looking for a reliable bookkeeper or..." Allen got straight to the point.
"I need someone to help me organize the factory's internal affairs. You've been doing business in New York for many years and have extensive connections. Do you have any suitable candidates to recommend?"
Mr. Gable stopped what he was doing upon hearing this and thought seriously.
"Bookkeepers... there are quite a few in the city. But you said reliable, and clear-headed—that's difficult."
He thought for a moment, then suddenly slapped his thigh, "Ah, how could I forget her! There really is such a person!"
"Oh?"
"A young lady named Catherine O'Brien."
Mr. Gable's face showed a look of recollection, "She worked in my shop as a finance officer for two years. I dare say, her mind is clearer than any accountant I've ever met! No matter how messy the accounts, they'd be clear and organized in her hands within half a day. And the girl has good character, never takes advantage, she's a truly respectable person."
"And now she's..."
"Alas, what a pity." Mr. Gable sighed.
"Her father was seriously ill a while ago, and she had to resign to go home and take care of him. But I heard she's looking for work again recently to raise money for her father's medical expenses. If you can get her, you've definitely found a treasure."
Allen immediately asked for the address.
Someone so highly praised by Mr. Gable piqued his interest, and he wanted to meet her in person.
Following the address, Allen arrived in front of a relatively neat apartment building.
He knocked on the door.
The door was opened by a young lady with a delicate face, bright eyes, and a cascade of black hair.
Her clothes, though simple, were spotless, and she carried a scholarly tranquility about her.
"Hello, may I ask who you are?"
Catherine looked at the stranger before her and asked politely.
"Miss O'Brien, hello. My name is Allen Williams." Allen introduced himself. "Mr. Gable recommended me."
A flicker of surprise crossed Catherine's eyes, but she quickly regained her composure.
She invited Allen into the house.
The room, though small, was full of life. Allen got straight to the point, explaining his purpose.
"...So, I need an office manager. Responsible for managing all company accounts, orders, inventory, and employee salaries. This is a position that requires immense patience, meticulousness, and wisdom."
Catherine listened quietly, without interrupting. Only when Allen finished did she speak.
"Mr. Williams, I've heard of you and greatly admire your business acumen. Forgive my presumption, but for such an important position, why would you consider a young woman with no background?"
"Because of Mr. Gable's recommendation, and my own judgment."
Allen looked into her eyes and said earnestly.
"Miss O'Brien, I don't care about an applicant's background, gender, or age. I only care whether he or she is the person who can solve problems for me. Therefore, I'd like to give you a small test."
"Please proceed."
"Suppose," Allen said slowly, "I purchased one thousand pounds of beef today, at ten cents per pound. After processing it into canned goods, I obtained a total of eight hundred pounds of finished product. So, what is my raw material loss rate in this process? If I want to calculate the final product cost precisely down to every ounce, how should I design my ledger?"
At the time, this was an extremely advanced and complex cost accounting problem.
Catherine didn't hesitate for a moment; she answered almost immediately.
"Your raw material loss rate is twenty percent. As for cost accounting, you cannot just calculate the beef. You also need a classified ledger to record the costs of tinplate, charcoal, salt, workers' wages, and even the lamp oil for your office. Then, add all costs together and divide by the total ounces of the final product. Only then can you get the most accurate unit cost, and use that as a basis to determine the most profitable selling price."
Her answer was not only clear, quick, and organized, but also filled with the rigor of business logic.
Allen smiled.
He knew he had found the right person.
"Miss O'Brien, you have perfectly passed my test."
He stood up and formally extended an invitation.
"I am willing to offer you a salary of eight dollars per week to serve as my chief clerk and personal assistant. You will report directly to me and be responsible for managing all affairs of the future factory office."
Eight dollars a week!
This was a high salary that would make even university professors take notice.
In Catherine's eyes, an expression of disbelief finally appeared.
But she quickly composed herself, knowing that behind the high salary lay immense responsibility and challenges.
She also stood up and replied solemnly.
"Mr. Williams, I accept this position. I guarantee that the company's ledgers will be as precise as a clock."
"Of course, I believe you." Allen extended his hand to her. "Welcome aboard, Miss Catherine. Our great voyage has only just begun."