March 11, 1909
Time moved with the same relentless momentum as the Kingston assembly lines. Since its premiere in December, The Crimson Glory had become a cultural phenomenon, grossing nearly half a million dollars—approximately $18 million in 2025 dollars—in just a few months. Across the country, theaters were gradually tearing out their old stages to make room for Kingston sound equipment. To keep these screens filled, Kingston Studios was officially registered in Los Angeles. A dedicated crew of fifty people had already begun producing films between thirty and sixty minutes in length. They were mostly Westerns, based on rugged stories of the Wild West. Michael didn't consider them great art, but they served their purpose: filling the insatiable demand of theaters that had been converted to the Kingston sound system.
As March arrived, the nation turned its eyes to Washington D.C. for the inauguration of William Howard Taft, the 27th President of the United States. The Kingston family traveled to the capital to witness the historic transition of power, but Michael stayed back in New York. While the politicians celebrated, Michael remained in the executive suite of Kingston Bank to oversee the most important financial move of the century.
One week after the inauguration, as America adjusted to its new President and John Kingston was officially confirmed as the Secretary of the Treasury, the "Big Five"—Kingston Steel, Kingston Oil, Kingston Mining & Metals, Kingston Motors, and Kingston General Stores—were prepared for a Direct Public Offering (DPO).
The distinction between a DPO and a traditional Initial Public Offering (IPO) lay in the fundamental structure of the sale. In an IPO, a company hires investment banks to "underwrite" the sale. The banks buy all the shares at a discount, take a massive commission, and then resell those shares to their own wealthy clients before the public ever got a chance. In a DPO, however, the company bypasses the bankers entirely, selling shares directly to the public at a set price.
A group of senior partners from J.P. Morgan & Co. and Kuhn, Loeb & Co. sat in Michael's office, their faces tight with frustration. Among them was J.P. Morgan Jr., known to the street as Jack, the senior partner and heir apparent to the House of Morgan, who had been sent as his father's personal envoy. Their interest was purely financial; by pushing for an IPO, they stood to make tens of millions in fees and control who owned the stock.
"Mr. Kingston," Jack Morgan said, speaking with the clinical authority of the House of Morgan. "My father, J. Pierpont Morgan, has asked me to personally request that you reconsider this course. He feels that a Direct Public Offering is a dangerous gamble with the nation's financial equilibrium and would prefer to see this managed through the proper channels."
Michael looked at the younger Morgan calmly. "Tell your father that after careful consideration, we regret that it is not possible."
A flash of sharp, visceral fury crossed Jack's face. He was the son of the most powerful man on Wall Street, a senior partner in the nation's most influential bank, and he was being dismissed with a single, blunt sentence by a youth still in his teens. His jaw tightened, and for a second, the room felt the weight of the Morgan temper. But Jack reigned it in, his eyes narrowing as he realized Michael was not moved by status or intimidation. He was the heir to an empire that no longer needed the Morgans to survive.
As the banker from Kuhn, Loeb began to splutter an angry protest, Jack held up a gloved hand, silencing the man instantly. He knew when a battle was lost, and he would not allow the "Old Guard" to look like beggars in front of a nineteen-year-old.
"Gentlemen," Michael continued, noticing the silent command Jack had over his peers. "The answer remains no."
"Mr. Kingston, you must understand," the banker from Kuhn, Loeb persuaded, still trying to find an opening despite Jack's warning. "A DPO is risky. Without our guarantee, the market may not support the price. It is simply not in your best interests to do this alone."
Michael leaned back, a small, confident smile playing on his lips. "If the public trusts the Kingston name as much as I believe they do, then the price will find its own level. Tell me—is there anyone in this city who truly doubts the reliability of the Kingston family?"
The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of Michael's words. The bankers knew that Michael was referencing a cultural reality they couldn't deny. By 1909, the Kingston family had become a household name across the vast breadth of the United States. From the bustling tenements of New York to the growing suburbs of Chicago, the Kingston brand was synonymous with modern life. Most Americans interacted with the empire every single day; they read the morning news in Kingston newspapers, spoke to loved ones through Kingston telephones, drove to work in Kingston motors, and shopped at Kingston General Stores for their daily necessities. Except for the most isolated pockets of rural America, every citizen knew the Kingston name and, more importantly, they trusted it.
The bankers looked toward John and George Kingston, hoping for an ally. Both men simply gave a helpless look, signaling that they could not intervene in Michael's decision.
They had heard the rumors for years about Michael's absolute authority in family decision-making, but seeing it first-hand was unbelievable to them. The bankers were powerless. The Kingstons had zero debt and no need for bank loans. Furthermore, with John Kingston now the Secretary of the Treasury, the bankers knew that any underhanded tricks or market manipulation would likely result in a federal investigation they couldn't afford.
As the frustrated bankers finally gathered their hats and left the room, Michael watched them go. "Vultures, all of them," he muttered.
John and George broke into shared laughter.
"Is everything truly okay, Son?" John asked, his voice softening.
George added, "It's not a wrong step, right? This is uncharted territory."
Michael looked at them both. "Father, Dad... have you ever seen me make a wrong step?"
They knew the answer. Michael never moved until he was absolutely sure of the ground beneath him.
John looked at his son, a sudden wave of nostalgia hitting him. "Time flies. It feels like just yesterday I was looking at a cute kid, and now... where has he gone?"
"It seemed like you were a kid one minute," George agreed, shaking his head. "And now, you are a man leading a massive enterprise."
Michael smiled at the sentiment, knowing that once the companies went public, the status of the Kingston family would change forever.
March 12, 1909: The New York Stock Exchange
The morning air at 18 Broad Street was frigid, but the crowd gathered outside was massive. Michael arrived at the Exchange with his family—John, Mary, George, and Elizabeth. As they walked toward the entrance, Michael paused, looking up at the towering columns of the Exchange.
Mary Kingston stood beside her son, pulling her coat closer against the cold. "You look like a general surveying a battlefield," she said softly.
Michael didn't look away from the hall below, which was a roiling sea of black silk hats and frantic energy. "In a way, I am, Mother. But today, the battle is won with money and public trust."
Elizabeth leaned over the railing, staring at the thousands of people packed into the streets. "I have never seen a crowd this immense in the Exchange," she said. "Not since U.S. Steel went public like this."
"That's because the people know we are a sure thing, Mom," Michael replied.
"The bankers are furious," George whispered, leaning over the railing. "I saw Morgan's men earlier. They look like they've been robbed."
"They have been robbed, Dad," Michael replied. "We've robbed them of their control."
John Kingston stood on Michael's other side, his face a mask of professional calm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. "Forty dollars, Michael? It seems far too low. The Street thinks you've lost your mind. They say you're leaving hundreds of millions on the table by not starting at a par of one hundred."
"Let them talk, Father," Michael replied. "It is a 'Deep Discount' for a reason. You must remember that although we are only issuing two million shares per company to the market—ten million in total—that volume is still massive. We are managing twenty-five million shares across these five entities, which is significantly higher than most of our peers. At this scale, a forty-dollar entry is perfectly normal; it's a standard of accessibility. Most prestige stocks like U.S. Steel are out of reach for the common man. By setting our price at forty, we make it possible for a clerk or a factory hand to own a piece of us."
Michael looked at his parents, his voice dropping an octave as the tension in the room reached its peak. "Watch that clock carefully. By the time the closing bell rings this afternoon, the Kingston name will be more than just a brand—it will be the foundation of a million American homes. Our family wealth will soar to new heights, far beyond anything this city has ever witnessed."
At 9:30 AM, the President of the Exchange rang the brass bell.
The "Open Outcry" erupted with a sound like a physical explosion. Brokers surged toward the five specialists' posts—the heavy, horseshoe-shaped stations on the floor where each stock was uniquely managed and auctioned. Because this was a DPO, every share was up for grabs on the open floor, bypassing the usual back-room deals.
Simultaneously, at every one of the 70 Kingston Bank branches across the country, the doors opened to lines that stretched for blocks.
The system worked with clinical efficiency. At the bank counters, ordinary citizens bought their shares at the promised $40.00. Michael had given his word, and he would not move from it. However, the moment those shares touched the hands of the public, the secondary market took over.
"I have ten thousand for Kingston Steel at 45!" a broker screamed on the floor. "Bid 50 for Motors!" another yelled.
By 11:00 AM, on the floor of the Exchange, people who had just bought shares at $40 from the Kingston branches were already selling them to desperate bankers for $50, $60, or even $80. Even though the family lost potential profit at the counter by sticking to the $40 price, the market was now valuing the companies at their true industrial potential.
That evening, in the quiet of the family library, Michael tallied the final results. The family had sold 10,000,000 shares at the promised $40.00, generating $400 million in gross proceeds. After roughly $9 million in logistical costs, the family's private accounts were credited with $391 million in pure liquid cash. Their retained 15,000,000 shares were now valued at the market closing prices, which had soared far beyond the entry point.
The market closing prices had soared, and the market now valued the companies individually as follows:
Kingston Motors: $410,000,000 ($82.00 per share)Kingston Steel: $370,000,000 ($74.00 per share)Kingston Oil: $340,000,000 ($68.00 per share)Kingston Mining & Metals: $310,000,000 ($62.00 per share)Kingston General Stores: $280,000,000 ($56.00 per share)
Mary looked over the ledger, her brow furrowed. "Michael, the newspapers are reporting that by midday, those same shares were trading for over eighty dollars on the floor. We could have sold them at those prices ourselves. We've left hundreds of millions of dollars for the brokers and flippers to take."
Michael looked at his mother and smiled gently. "That's not the issue, Mother. I gave my word in the newspapers. I promised the American people that the price would be forty dollars at the window, and I intended to stick by that promise. If I had sold them for more, it would have been a betrayal of that trust."
"But the profit—" Mary started.
"The profit we 'lost' today is an investment in our name," Michael interrupted. "In the long run, we will be known as the family whose word is their bond. The bankers can have their quick buck. But the people who stood in line at our branches know that we didn't gouge them when we had the chance. We've bought a level of loyalty that no amount of capital can replace. Today, we didn't just sell stock; we proved we are the only institution in this country that does exactly what it says it will do."
John nodded slowly, impressed. He looked at the bottom line of the consolidated ledger. "Exactly as you predicted, Michael. With the closing bell, the Kingston family net worth has been unified into a single, staggering figure."
John pointed to the final calculation: $1,642,000,000.
Liquid cash of $391 million capital raised: This represented the net proceeds from today's stock sale after all logistical and filing costs.$1.026 Billion in Public Equity: This represented the 15 million shares the family retained across the "Big Five" (3 million shares per company), valued at today's closing prices.$225 Million in Private Assets: The consolidated value of the family's wholly-owned interests, including Kingston Bank, the publishing empire, Kingston Construction, Kingston Electric, and their extensive real estate holdings.
"It is a tectonic force," George said, looking at his son. "You've created an economic entity that rivals the treasury of a European power. "
"It's more than just money," Elizabeth said. "We aren't just business owners anymore; we've become a fundamental part of the nation's financial structure."
John nodded slowly. "Remember Michael—as Secretary of the Treasury, I will be watching. If this bubble bursts, it won't just be our money that disappears. It will be the savings of nearly a million Americans."
"It won't burst, Father," Michael said. "Because we aren't selling air. We are selling steel, oil, and the future. As long as the country grows, we grow."