Chapter Eight
"STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!" Were the yells of the Manhattan newsies as we made our way to the front door of Pulitzer's World office building.
"Alright we gotta get word out to all the newsies in New York! I need some of those, uh, what'd ya call 'em?" Jack asked Davey.
"Ambassadors?" he replied.
"Yeah. Right, you guys, you gotta be am-bastards, and go tell the others that we're on strike!" Jack proclaimed. Everyone cracked up at 'am-bastards.'
"Say, Jack! I'll take Harlem!" Blink yelled, though he was in the front of the crowd. I guess it was so that no one else would go to Harlem because in his mind he called "dibs" on it.
"Yeah, I got Midtown!" Race also shouted. Hmmm... I really wonder why he chose Midtown. No, I don't. Midtown is where most of the races take place in New York. I bet that after he tells the newsies there that we're on strike, he'll stick around for the rest of the day betting on races with money he doesn't have.
"I got the bowery, Jack!" Mush, said. Finally, someone in the front who doesn't blow out my eardrums! I bet that Mush chose the bowery because of all the pretty girls there. You ever heard of "Bowery Girls"? Well, if not, Bowery girls are poor, but pretty girls who hang around in bars. Cheery, huh?
"I'll take the Bronx!" Crutchy squeaked. I'm sure he chose that area because it's not really a long walking distance, and with his leg and everything.
"Alright, Bumlets, Specs, Skittery, you take Queens!" Jack ordered.
"Pie Eater, Snoddy! East Side! Snipeshooter, you go with 'em! I said.
"What about Brooklyn? Who wants Brooklyn?" Jack asked. I tried not to be the first one to volunteer because the guys would suspect something. You see, I've been "going out" with Brooklyn's leader, Spot Conlon. No one knew about it except us. I didn't even tell Jack, and that you don't get to see often. It had all started when I had just become a newsie and Jack took me around to all the different parts of New York. When we arrived in Brooklyn and I met Spot, we just hit it off. We had secret "dates" whenever we could. That started a week after I joined, and that was just under two yearsago. We were slowly falling in love. Some people say that Spot Conlon is a womanizer and a jerk, but that's only from girls that he meant nothing to and he had to get rid of their relationships. Spot told me himself that he wanted to find someone that was more than a regular prim and prissy, delicate, skirt hanging all over him. He said he wanted a girl who could hold her own and could do just about anything with little to no help. I'm getting sidetracked, back to the story.
"Come on! Spot Conlon's territory!" Jack tried again.
No one volunteered. 99% of the New York newsies were afraid of Spot Conlon. The only people who weren't were Jack, me, himself, and his newsies. Davey looked like he had no idea on Earth who or what Spot Conlon was. Honestly, that didn't shock me. Davey looked like he didn't get out much. I mean, he's lived in New York all his life and ain't got a New York accent. I've only been in New York two years and I have a thick New York accent. I mean, really!
"What's the matter, you scared of Brooklyn?" I asked.
"Hey we ain't scared of Brooklyn! It's Spot Conlon that makes us, a little noivous." Boots defended. See what I mean?
"Well he don't make us noivous!" I gestured that I meant me and Jack." So us and you Boots, we'll go to Brooklyn." I said.
"All right." Boots relented.
"And Dave can keep us company!" Jack added.
"Sure, just as soon as you take our demands to Pulitzer." Dave countered.
"Us to Pulitzer?" We asked in unison.
"You're the leaders, guys!" Dave responded.
"I'm not going in! I'm gonna go on ahead to Brooklyn, 'kay?" I said as I walked in Brooklyn's direction.
"Yeah, okay!" Jack replied. He looked at Dave for a minute, then to Les, then said, "Well maybe the kid'll soften him up." And with that, Jack and Les entered the building.
As I walked off, I could hear my friends back in the square, chanting, "STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!"
-
On the way to Brooklyn, I ran into my friend Allison, who the guys had whistled and "Hubba hubba"-ed at. I apologized for them, we talked for a bit, then I was on my way again. It didn't take long to walk to Brooklyn, I think because I was the only one going there, and it seems that when someone goes with me, it takes longer to get there.
After I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and gotten past the rougher newsies of Brooklyn, I came across my "Lover-boy" at his perch of crates, taking in his beautiful view of the bridge and the rest of New York. I climbed up and stood behind him. After a minute or two and he hadn't realized I was behind him, I pulled the whole "Guess Who?" game. I disguised my voice to try to sound like Jack.
"Guess who?"
"Archer!" He exclaimed, almost falling off his crate tower perch. I had to laugh.
"Who else would it be?" I said through laughs.
"What are you doing here? People will see you."
"I've already been seen. Some of your diving boys hit on me as I walked by. No one saw me come up here, though. We need to talk somewhere lower." I explained.
"I need something first," He said, stopping me from climbing down.
"What?" I could sort of ask before he pressed his lips to mine. He put his hands around me and I did the same to him. I was overjoyed to be kissing Spot, but I was worried that we would be seen by some of his newsies, or worse, some of mine. If that happened, I'd never hear the end of it. I had to pull away, though I really didn't want to. "I'm serious, Spot. We need to talk."
"Let's go, then." Spot agreed. We climbed down and sat down at the base of the crate tower. "What do you need to talk to me about, then?"
"The price for our papes went up. Most of us can't get by paying ten more cents per hundred. Jack and I have-"
"Oh boy, Arch, Jack has something to do with this?" Spot interrupted.
"He's our leader, Spot! Of course he has something to do with it. Anyway, we've decided to go-"
"Well, if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick!" Spot had spotted Jack, Boots, and Davey. Here we go, I thought.
"So you moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything." Jack said. Jack then spit in his hand for a spitshake. Spot spit, but it was over his hand. That was what Spot did for a spitshake with someone not from Brooklyn. Except for me, of course. But then again, we didn't really spitshake.
Spot put away his cane in his belt loop, then turned to Boots. "Hey Boots, how's it rollin'?"
"Hey, I got a couple of real good shooters, here." Boots held out his hand containing two clay marbles. "Shooters" are marbles, pebbles, etc. for shooting in a slingshot. Spot was famous for his legendary slingshot accuracy, and for his cane, or what some people call, a "pimp" cane, but Spot was no pimp.
Spot held out his hand and Boots dropped them in it. "Yeah," Spot then took one, brought out his slinghot, loaded it with the marble, aimed at a bottle of some sort, and fired, hitting the bottle and turning it into hundreds of thousands of shards of glass. During the process, Spot spoke to Jack, "So, uh, Jackie boy, I've been hearin' things from little boidies." As Spot aimed, though, Davey flinched and stepped back a little. What a wimp.
"Yeah?"
"Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They're chirpin' in my ear. 'Jackie boy's newsies is playin' like they goin' on strike'."
"Yeah, well we are. Didn't Archer tell ya'?" Jack asked.
"I tried to." I defended.
"But we're not playin'. We are goin' on strike." Davey said to Spot.
"Oh, yeah, yeah? What is this, Jackie boy, some kinda walkin' mouth?" Spot got up in Davey's face. That wasn't a good sign.
"Yeah, it's a mouth. A mouth with a brain. And if you got half a one, you'll listen to what he's gotta say." Jack said. I tried to keep quiet. I really didn't want to be in the middle of a Jack/Spot blowout. I mean, I have strong loyalties to either side. Spot walked over to where we were sitting before and sat down next tome, carefully not sitting to close. That would tip someone off about us. He crossed his arms, put on a sarcastic face on, cocked his head, slumped over a bit, and listened.
"Go on, tell him." Jack egged Davey on.
"Well ,we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So we've been talkin' to other newsies all around the city." Davey started.
"Yeah, so they told me, but what'd they tell you?" Spot interrupted. one of the things he does best other than fighting, using his slingshot, and kissing.
"They're waitin' to see what Spot Conlon does. You're the key." Davey replied, lying through his teeth. They would not be waitin' to see what Spot did, they're all scared to death of Spot. But I am proud of Davey though, he caught on to Spot's proud ego quickly, and he fueled that by saying he was the key. Davey continued, "That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York. And probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they'll join. And we'll be unstoppable. So you gotta join us because-- Well, you just gotta!" Easy there Dave, don't fuel him too much. This is starting to sound scripted!
"Well, you're right, Jack. Brains. But I got brains too." Spot took his cane out and walked over to Davey. He stuck one end of it right in to Davey's face, and said, "And more than just have of one." He then walked over to Jack. "How do I know you punks won't run the first time some goon comes at ya' with a club?" Yup, Davey went too far. "How do I know you got what it takes to win?"
"'Cause I'm tellin' ya', Spot." Jack replied.
Spot walked over a little to where some of his buddies were standing, and some were smoking. "That ain't good enough, Jackie boy. Ya gotta show me."
The guys went back to Manhattan, but I told them I'd stay and "knock some sense into him". We walked to the Brooklyn Lodging House and over to his bunk. We made sure no one was around to see me. No one was, luckily. We talked about the strike at length.
"Spot, please. You have to. With out everyone else, some of us could get hurt really bad. Some could die against the men workin' for Pulitzer in a fight. I could get killed." I pleaded.
"I won't let that happen to you." Spot replied.
"If you don't join, how can you make sure that won't happen?" I asked. "I need you Spot. Please! Help us out!"
"I'll think about it." Spot relented.
"Thank you so much!" I hugged him so tight, I was so happy.
"I only said I'd think about it, though." he reminded.
"Yeah, I know, but that means you might! And that means there's a chance of us winning this thing!" I leaned over and kissed him. We laid down and continued kissing on his bed. He put his arms around me again, because mine were still around him. It was a dream come true. We could win the strike!
-
Back in Manhattan, some of the guys were back from their assigned sections of New York and were playing Craps at the base of the statue. Jack, Boots, and Davey walked up just as the game ended. Obviously, Race won, and everyone walked off disappointedly. Everyone, that is, except Race, Skittery, Blink, and Mush.
"Jack, so, uh, where's Spot?" Race asked.
"Yeah, and where's Archer? She's been gone a while. She left before you guys did, and stayed longer than you guys did, apparently." Mush explained.
"she stayed to try to knock some sense into him so he would join." Davey said.
"Sure," Blink said sarcastically.
"What?" Davey asked.
"You don't know?" Race asked.
"Know what?" Jack asked for Dave.
"We've concluded that Arch and Spot are most likely, ya know, 'steppin' out'." Mush said.
"Are you kiddin'?" Jack asked. "She wouldn't do that!"
"Don't be so sure, Jack. Where do ya think she goes when she leaves at odd hours of the night?" Blink asked.
"Yeah, you gotta be more observant, Jack." Boots agreed.
"You knew? Why didn't you say so?" Jack turned to Boots.
"I didn't know, but you do need to be more observant."
"Yeah, you do." Skittery concurred.
"Well, anyway. Spot was concerned about us bein' serious. You imagine that?" Jack changed the subject.
"Jack, maybe we should ease off a little." Race said.
"Without Spot and the others, there's not enough of us, Jack." Blink agreed.
"Yeah, maybe we're maybe movin' to soon, maybe we ain't ready." Mush said.
"I definitely think we should forget about it for a while." Skittery stated.
"Oh, do ya'?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, I mean, we're not Brooklyn." Race stood up for Skitts.
"Hey who we kiddin' here? Spot was right. Is it just a game to you guys?" Jack yelled.
"It's not, Jack, it's just-" You'd be surprised how many of the newsies said that all at once.
"Hey, Crutchy." Jack barely said.
"Hiya, Jack!" Crutchy replied.
Everyone walked off.
DAVEY: Open the gates and seize the day. Don't be afraid and don't delay. nothing can break us, no one can make us give our rights away. Arise and seize the day! Now is the time to seize the day!
NEWSIES: Now is the time to seize the day!
DAVEY: Send out the call and join the fray!
NEWSIES: Send out the call and join the fray!
DAVEY: Wrongs will be righted, if we're united!
NEWSIES: Let us seize the day!
DAVEY: Friends of the friendless, seize the day!
NEWSIES: Friends of the friendless, seize the day!
DAVEY: Raise up the torch and light the way!
NEWSIES: Raise p the torch and light the way! Proud and defiant, we'll slay the giant! Let us seize the day! Neighbor to neighbor! Father to son! One for all and all for one!
Race was dancing in place on the sidelines, playing his harmonica.
NEWSIES: Open the gates and seize the day! Don't be afraid and don't delay! Nothing can break us! No one can make us give our rights away!
The guys ended up playing a little game of tug-o-war with jack's lasso. Let's just say both sides won, I really don't know who did.
NEWSIES: Neighbor to neighbor! Father to son! One for all and all for one!
"Yeah!" Davey and Jack yelled.
The circulation bell started ringing as I walked back. I heard Jack yell, "Anybody hear that?"
"NO!"
"So what are we gonna do about it?" I asked, running over.
"SOAK 'EM!"
We all ran to the circulation center where we normally would've gotten our rotten papes. We could hear Weasel yellin', "Come on! Come on! It's a beautiful day! Let's go, let's go!" unbelievably, there were newsies in line for their papes. We mobbed up at the bas of the stairs they'd have to walk down so we could stop them.
Weasel was still sayin', "Come on, buy a pape! What's goin' on here?" When he saw the mob of us staring at the boy with papes in his hands coming down the stairs and stopped him dead in his tracks. Bumlets had walked up the stairs, stick in hand, standing patiently, waiting for him to dart that way, but surrounding him. The boy lifted his papes up, and threw 'em on the ground.
"Atta boy!" I said to him, patting on the back as he walked by.
"All right!" Jack exclaimed.
Two more boys came down the stairs behind him, hands in the air, surrendering. Race said to one of the boys, "It's 'bout time, South, Where ya been?" The boy after them wasn't as accommodating. he had his papes on his shoulder, and didn't look like he was surrendering anytime soon.
"We got a big one, fellas," I heard Blink say. The boy took off his hat and came down to stare Jack in the eyes, which Jack was doing to the other boy in the first place.
"Are ya a newsie, or what?" I asked him. He turned my way and pushed me away, quite forcefully in fact. The guys all got to push him away and got up in his face. No matter how much I disliked it, they never let anyone hurt me without getting a piece of him first. "Guys, guys! It's fine. Let's get this over with!"
They didn't listen to me though. They continued to shove and push the boy. Davey was trying to calm them down, "Fellas, fellas. Blink." Jack stepped up to face the boy, who I might add was a mite bigger than Jack. "Now, Jack, just don't-" Davey tried. Jack pushed the papes out of the boy's hands. The boy bent down like he was gonna pick them up, but what he actually did was he had bent down and darted at Jack, almost knocking him over. Then he wet back up the stairs and we all chased him. This guy had gone too far. First, pushing me and then Jack. You don't do that. You just don't do that. if you haven't noticed, newsies retaliate. We started fighting with the boys in line and threw rotten tomatoes at the Delanceys and Weasel. It was hilarious how they scrambled away from the window. Some of the boys were throwing papes, some were ripping them up, and the rest of us were beating up the guys who pushed me and Jack. Jack had climbed up to the top window of the dome of the circulation center and started making faces at the workers inside. The window was filthy, I have no idea why Jack would want to do that. I mean he put his mouth on it and made even more faces at them. It was disgusting, yet hilarious!
A bunch of us got together and pushed over the pape wagon. It was heavy, but we made light work with about seven or eight of us pushing. Some of the guys made paper hats out of the papes and stated running around, testing their Indian war cries.
Inside the circulation center, Weasel picked up the telephone and called the bulls. When we heard the whistle, it was beat feet it out of there. Jack and I shouted, "Cheese it! Cheese it, it's the bulls!" Davey instantly yelled, "LES!" We all ran out of there as fast as we could. I was staying behind to make sure everybody got out. But you know, there was Crutchy, sitting there laughing and ripping up papes. I screamed, "Crutchy! Crutchy! Scram, scram!" I didn't wait too long after that before I ran out of there myself. I looked back to see Oscar and Morris pick Crutchy up, throw his crutch away from them, and drag Crutchy off. So much for getting everybody out of there.
-------------------------------------------
Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait on the chapters, but I've been really busy lately! And to make it worse lateness wise, I'm going to be in the Land Down Under almost all of July, and then I have band camps for marching before school starts when I get back. After that, school starts, and the school musical is Peter Pan and I really want to be in it, any part at all, but preferably Tiger Lily, so I won't have mush time then, either. Then after Christmas, we're doing a play at school. Hectic year for a freshman, ain't it? Sorry again!