Okay, so now we're actually starting the story, this is a little freaky.
I can't wait to figure out all the details haha.
Enjoy! :)
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It's been nearly a year since Jack Kelly visited the Calvary Cemetery in Queens. He was here nearly a year ago for the funeral of one of his friends from his newsie days, Kid Blink.
A year ago from today was the day that Kid Blink died.
It says it right there on the tombstone:
LOUIS BALETTI
DIED JULY 18, 1913
AGED 32 YEARS.
He died so young. Especially compared to his father's name above his, which says Bartolomeo Baletti lived to be 56 years old.
He did better than Crutchy did, though, Jack thinks to himself. Poor Crutch never made it to see the year 1911.
It's been four years since Crutchy Morris died of pneumonia. Jack thinks about him every day.
Just like he thinks about Kid Blink everyday.
He came here simply wanting to pay his respects for Kid Blink, but now that he's here, staring at the grave ... he really isn't sure what he wants to do.
"I can't believe it's been a year," Jack murmurs for himself, and possibly for Kid Blink. He's met with silence. He is alone in a cemetery. "Can't believe you only lived 32 years."
Jack turns 32 this year. He can't imagine Kid Blink, not even at 32 years old, learning that he was going to die and there was nothing anyone could do about it, then passing away a couple months later on his birthday. Jack can't even begin to imagine what that would be like.
But there's nothing that any of them can do about it; they have no say in whether they'll live another day or pass away tomorrow. Death just comes, and they can't stop it.
Jack holds his fingers up to the engraved letters of Kid Blink's name on the tombstone, but stops before he actually touches it. "You know, Mush hasn't been the same since you left us."
Jack cringes. He makes it sound like Blink walked out on them, when in reality he was taken from them.
But what he said about Mush is true. To his knowledge, no newsie has seen Mush since the funeral. He was distraught then. Because while all the relationships everyone had had when they were newsies, only Kid Blink's and Mush's lasted into adulthood, and even ultimately until the bitter end.
"And the thing is, it was your death that brought everyone together again. Not many of us really saw each other before that." Or after that. It had been surreal seeing everyone's faces, all grown up, most people who hadn't seen Kid Blink in over a decade. And then they had all parted ways once again.
This isn't the first time that the newsies were brought together by a funeral. There was Crutchy Morris' death in 1910.
Jack also remembers nearly ten years ago, 1905, when he was the one who took up a collection to give Dutchy a proper funeral when he passed away. And they did. Everyone contributed. They rasied enough money to buy a grave plot for him and a gravestone. That was when many newsies were still at the lodging house--including him; that was when many newsies still cared.
Jack only wishes that the newsies would actually gather again to celebrate life, and not just death.
But the job of newsies is dying, too. Newstands are popping up. The newsies strikes of modern times are not successful. Jack doesn't know how much longer he'll see young newsies scampering around the city, hawking headlines, eyes gleaming as they manage to score a nickel.
It's amazing what just fifteen years can do. He wonders what another fifteen more could do.
Suddenly, someone behind Jack coughs in the way one does to get attention. Suddenly, he's not just alone with his thoughts any more.
And since it startled him, he jumps a little as he turns around to face whoever it is.
It's a man who looks to be around Jack's age, possibly a few years younger, and who also has an uncanny resemblance to Kid Blink. However, this man has two eyes instead of one.
Jack stands there silently, waiting for this man to state what he wants.
"I am James Baletti," he introduces himself. "My brother was Louis."
Louis Baletti was Kid Blink's real name. This guy is Kid Blink's brother.
And because of the resemblance, Jack trusts him on this.
Then realizing that James probably came here on this day to visit his brother's grave, Jack steps aside. But it seems like James as something else in mind.
"Are you Jack Kelly?"
Jack stops.
Right now, he's conflicted over whether to answer or not. But he's too curious not to. "Yes, I'm Jack Kelly. Kid--Louis was a friend of mine."
James reaches into his coat pocket, and takes out an envelope, and hands it to Jack. Jack Kelly is written in Kid Blink's familiar scrawl on it. Jack holds it closer, examining it, curious.
"He ... he wrote this," James says, "right before he died. He insisted that this should get to you. Of course, I didn't know who you were, and it didn't seem right at the funeral to bug everyone there and ask which one was Jack Kelly."
"So how did you find me today?" Jack asks.
"Intuition, I guess."
Jack stares at the envelope, incredibly curious for why Kid Blink would write to him. They hadn't spoken in the longest time. Kid Blink must have had something big on his mind if he needed to write a letter for Jack.
"Thank you-" he looks up, but James is gone, just as fast as he came.
Jack is once again all alone in a cemetery.
And, dying of curiosity, he opens the letter, complete with a date in the top right corner: July 17, 1913.
And so he begins to read.
Dear Jack,
I know we have not spoken to each other and years, and I know I've done things that could make you hate me, and wish to never see my face again. I accept this wholeheartedly.
The thing is, I don't have much time left. I know I wrote the date as the 17th, but at this point, I think it is midnight, so I think I am writing this on my birthday. I am 32 years old now. What a thought. I'm dying, Jack. I don't know if I'm even gonna make it to the 20th.
I know I've done many wrong things in my life, and I'm not just talking about with the strike of '99. In my life after being a newsie, I have done so, so many wrong things in my life. I shouldn't have gotten mixed up with Chuck Connors. Yeah, I looked up to him, and at the time being with him was absolutely thrilling, but I can see now that it was wrong.
I knew a guy we called "Dopey Gus" a few years back. He died in 1907 in Philideplhia alongside two Chinese men. Chuck Connors and Chinatown ... there's a lot I shouldn't write about. But Dopey Gus was my friend. We were close. He was Sicilian by birth, and had an ear for many languages. He was taken too young. But I'm not expecting you to care too much about Dopey Gus. Instead, there are two things I need you to do for me, Jack.
In 1905, me and a bunch of other guys were arrested for bragging about having killed a guy infamous amongst mobsters and gangsters--gangster Jack McManus. It was all a lie. We were doing it to protect the guy who did it. But it's a messy situation, Jack--it ain't simple at all. Who murdered him, and why they murdered him, and what all was at stake ... I can't explain it all now. But I know who can explain it all. I need you to find Kid Griffo, who was there when Jack McManus died, who knows the full story. He can fill in all the blanks. Please, Jack. I'm not asking you to avenge McManus. I'm asking you to help the ones who he terrorized, the ones who had no choice but to make sure that he never terrorized anyone ever again.
I need you to get everyone together. I watched everyone grow apart, and I won't stand for it. You, David, Race, Mush, Spot, everyone. You all drifted apart. But you need each other. It was obvious in 1899, and I for one won't believe for a single second that fifteen years later that's still not true. I need you to find each other again. Because not only do you all need each other, you need each other if you're going to find McManus's murderer.
I know I'm asking a lot of you, Jack. But I know you can do this, if you all work as a team. And speaking of them all, I have a little something for you to tell some of them. The parting words I could never say.
For Mush- I love you. More than anything else, anyone else, in this world. Thank you for staying with me for all these years. You deserved much more than I could ever give you. Please, don't let me hold you back. Keep me in the back of your mind as you face the future. Never give up hope.
For Race- I'm so sorry we drifted apart. I'm sorry I never properly made it up to you. I wish we got past our petty differences. The Brooklyn newsies were in good hands when you led them. Back at Irving Hall, they were talking about you, saying you were a natural leader of boys, and may one day be of men. I know it's true. I don't expect you to forgive me for all I've done, but just know that I am sorry for it all, and I wish you the best.
For Dave Simmons- You were right. You were right the whole time. I'm so, so sorry.
I don't have anymore time, Jack. So please, find David and please make up. Find Racetrack, find Spot, find my Mush. Work together. Please.
I think I'm out of time.
Sincerely,
Kid Blink
Jack stares at the letter for a long time, reading over Kid Blink's scrawled handwriting (it looks like he was in a rush to write it) again silently, again and again, wanting to make sure he gets every word.
That was a lot to take in.
And he's not entirely sure how he feels about it all.
He moves him thumb over Kid Blink's signature, where his writing really seems to be hurried.
Still, the one line he wrote for Dave Simmons is what is giving Jack chills. You were right. You were right the whole time. I'm so, so sorry.
Jack has so many questions, about every part of the letter. Questions that he never will have answered.
Well. Some of them will be answered if he does what Kid Blink wants.
But it sounds like Kid Blink is sending him on a wild goose chase. How does he expect Jack to follow through with this?
And just how long will this take? Jack wasn't planning on staying in the city too much longer. Maybe a few more months, longer if need be. He's saving up to go to Santa Fe. It was a silly dream when he was a kid, one that he was forced to give up. But now he has a real job making real money, and he wants to make it to Santa Fe. For real this time.
But then he once again looks at the paragraphs about him getting everyone back together. How desparate Kid Blink is. He sighs.
Guess Santa Fe will just have to wait again.
It's time to get the group back together.
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Okay, so there's a lot to unpack there.
How is THAT for an opening chapter??
...does it make sense?? Does the conspiracy make sense?? I really don't know if it does.
Well, I mean, there is a lot unsolved. But that's what these chapters are for.
Okay, I just love the idea of Jack being given the role of a private eye and just being like what the heck am I supposed to do with this? haha.
Oh gosh. Soooo much research.
Funerals have been around for at least 300,000 years, just an interesting llittle fact.
There's a blog called Newsboys of 1899, and there's an article about a timeline of Kid Blink's life with links to more articles and/or primary sources, which is very helpful. A lot of those links lead to most of the information in this chapter.
The one article about Jack Kelly/Kelley was from 1905 when a newsie known as Dutchy died, and Jack Kell(e)y made sure that he got a proper funeral and everything.
So. It's been fifteen years since the strike, and now the newsies have to get back together. What can go wrong? What can go right? We'll just have to find out.
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE!!!!! :)
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Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section at all times.
Best,
~Your Beloved Author (who has been in hyperfocus for the past 3 hours)