It's New York in the late 1800's . The city is ruled by Newsies. A young woman from the mountains has just moved into Manhattan to housekeep for her uncle and finds herself thrown into the middle of the Newsies world.
It was midmorning and I stood on the curb gazing across the street at the Newsboys Lodging House. When my mother had decided several weeks before that my Uncle Kloppman, whom I had never met, needed taking care of and decided to send me I had not pictured this. I had seen a small apartment above a flower shop or a restaurant. What I was getting was a lodging house for urchins with a small apartment for my uncle and I above it. And because my uncle was in charge of the place I was also receiving responsibility for the mess that was the whole lodging house.
Taking a deep breath, I looked both ways and marched across the street. There was no going back now. I was here to stay, with no money to get myself back home.
I entered into the small front room. A counter with a large account book dominated the space and behind it a small graying man sat. He looked up as the door closed behind me. "May I help you?" He asked.
"Yes," I replied gripping my carpet bag that contained all I possessed even tighter. "I'm Abigail. I've come to live with my uncle, Mr. Kloppman. I was told I could find him here."
"Abigail" The man harumphed. "Susanna's daughter. Welcome to New York. I'll show you where you can put your things."
"Thank you umm..." I was unsure what to call the man and if he was my uncle or just knew about my family.
"Just call me Kloppman," and he led the way up the staircase that sat off to the right of his counter.
As we passed the second floor he stated, "This is where the Newsies stay. I usually clean up in there about now, so after you put you things away you can come help me and I will show you how it goes."
On the third floor he unlocked the door to his apartment and held it open for me. The place had a slightly neglected look, though someone had recently made the effort to shift the furniture and create enough space for a cot and set of drawers in one corner. The same someone, I suspected, had also hung a curtain that could be pulled down for privacy in that corner.
I set my carpet bag on the cot then turned and followed my uncle back down the stairs.
The wide room full of bunk beds where the Newsies stayed had the look of a room that had endured many years of its current occupation. There was another room off of it with rows of wash basins and stalls with chamber pots that smelled, to my horror, like they needed emptying. We headed into this room first. From a closet on the third floor my uncle had gathered cleaning supplies. A mop, a bucket and two brooms.
"I will start here," he said pointing to the stalls and I relaxed a little. "You mop in here and sweep out there. Anything you find on the floor just set on the nearest bed. When your finished we will go have lunch."
I nodded and got to work, finding a water pump at one end of the row of wash basins. As I mopped I noticed with dismay the amount of effort it took Kloppman to lift each chamber pot. I tried to remember if my mother had mentioned him having a bad back.
When he had finished emptying the pots I suggested, "Uncle? You probably have things you need to work on. I can finish up here."
He nodded and left. Once I heard him retreat down the stairs I propped my broom against the wall and leaned next to it. I surveyed the room, it looked almost as neglected as the apartment upstairs. It took me only a moment to come to the decision that giving it a good solid cleaning now would save time later. I fetched some dust rags from the closet upstairs, discovered that the back windows overlooked a dirty alley that my wash water and dirt could be dumped out into and got to work.
Two hours later, after putting away my broom, mop and rags I surveyed the room. It was as clean as it was going to get right now, I would wash sheets tomorrow. Kloppman would know where I could wash and dry everything.
That afternoon I began my campaign against the grime in the apartment. By suppertime I had a mental list of things that needed to be done the next day. Finding the local grocer, butcher and baker, a lot of laundry, airing out the whole building. Not that an airing would do that much good in this city where the air was so clogged with smog.
Over a dinner of what I had scrounged from the cabinets in the apartment I told my uncle of my plans for the next day. He nodded and said, "The grocer, butcher and baker are all near the square where the boys pick up their papers in the morning. You can follow them out. The laundry is done on the roof."
I woke the next morning at dawn to have stale bread and coffee with my uncle then went down to wait at the front desk while he went through the bunk room hollering and waking the newsboys. From my place behind the desk I could hear him as he wandered between the bunks. "Boots! Wake up Cowboy!"
Within ten minutes the boys were pounding down the stairs some still pulling up their suspenders and Kloppman had appeared to count them off. He caught one of them before the boy could get out of the door.
"Cowboy, this here is my niece Abigail. She needs to get to the square. You show her where it is." And then he went back to counting off the newsboys that were galloping by as I followed the tall blonde Cowboy out into the early morning sun.
"Abigail, what brings you to New York?" he asked placing his hat, a true cowboy hat not the one of the caps like the other boys wore, on his head.
"I'm here to help Uncle Kloppman with keeping the place clean."
He nodded at this and 5 other lads all about the same age as Cowboy and I, joined us. I followed the introductions while trying to keep an eye on where we were going. The tall Italian with a crooked smile was called Racetrack beside him with thick blonde hair and an eye patch was Kid Blink. Next was a strapping boy with short curly brown hair named Mush. Lastly Cowboy introduced me to Crutchy, a thin young man with a limp and a high voice and Boots a short intelligent looking boy with skin the color of chocolate.