Hi, all!
As I told my fantabulously awesome friend/editor person, this plot... just kind of happened? When I saw the requirements for this round I knew it gave me lots of opportunities to do research. And somehow me researching central park led to me finding out about the sheep that lived there up until the Great Depression, which lead to me wanting to have a few of the newsies try to ride the sheep, which led to me building a story around that.
I don't know why the sheep caught my attention more than anything else about the history of central park. I don't even like sheep that much. I mean… they're sheep. My best quess is that this is what comes of writing during finals weeks. But, yeah.
Mini history lesson at the end! You'll learn more than you ever wanted to about the central park sheep!
Requirements:
Task: Pick a newsie and write about a time before he was a newsie. How did he end up living on the streets? What happened to his family? How did he become a newsie? Your story should end with your main character joining the newsies (or at least an ending that would strongly imply it).
Newsie: Tumbler, before he became Tumbler
Adult: Mrs. Jacobs
Neighborhood: Central Park & surrounding area. Specifically, the sheep meadow
Word count: 2057
The boy pulled on his father's arm, dragging him down the street as fast as he was able. Every day at seven o'clock, shepherds led the Central Park sheep from their pens to the sheep meadow on the west side of the park. And if his father didn't hurry up, they were going to miss it.
"Slow down, son!"
"No! We'll miss the sheep!"
He grabbed a fistful of his father's jacked and pulled, nearly tumbling into the street when his father stood firm.
"If you'd slowed down, you'd have noticed we're already at the park."
Sure enough, Central Park was right across the street, its shaded walkways and open fields enticingly green.
His father checked his watch. "Do you want to wait here to see the sheep cross? They should be coming soon."
"Yes!"
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, please."
His father nodded in approval. "Good boy. I have to head off to work, but I trust you'll behave. When the sheep come I want you to follow the flock to the park. Don't bother the shepherd, and stay in the park, got it?"
The boy nodded absentmindedly, scanning the street for a glimpse of hundreds of sheep that called Central Park home. Every day his father gave the same speech. And every day the boy didn't listen, too excited to see the sheep and spend another day in the park.
Heedless, his father continued. "I'll meet you by our usual tree at suppertime. If you need me, you know where to find me."
"With the sea lions." The boy fidgeted impatiently, scanning the street for the sheep.
"Alright. I'll see you tonight. Be good." He ruffled his son's hair, and set off down the street.
The boy watched his father go briefly, before a commotion down the street caught his attention.
The sheep!
Pedestrians were jumping out of the way, and carriages were pulling over to the side of the road as multitudes of sheep lumbered down the road. The boy stood, staring, as the shepherds tried to move the flock along. For some reason, it was taking longer than usual to cross the sheep today, and several people were yelling and cursing at the poor animals. He didn't understand why someone would curse at sheep. Sheep were the best animals in the whole wide Earth, and he should know. He spent every day watching the sheep in the meadow while his dad was at work at the zoo.
When the sheep had finally cleared the roadway, the boy noticed a commotion down the street. People were gathering around a taxi lying in the middle of the road, and there was something lying the street. He tried to get a better look at what was going on, but when the crowd didn't budge, he just shrugged. Whatever it was, his father would have walked by it on the way to the zoo, and he could ask him about it later. Right now, he needed to catch up to the sheep.
He followed the flock at a distance. One of the shepherds had tried to chase him off the day before, and he didn't want that to happen again. When they reached the sheep meadow he settled into his sheep watching position on his stomach, ready for a leisurely morning spent with the sheep.
By the time the sun was high in the sky the boy was quite hungry. It had been hours and hours since breakfast, and if he didn't have lunch soon, he'd have to start eating grass like the sheep. He stood up, stretched his stiff muscles, and dug around in his pocket.
Empty.
That was odd. His father usually gave him a few pennies to buy himself lunch. He could have dropped them, but he didn't remember having them in the first place. No matter. He was sure he could find food somewhere, so he set off towards the reservoir in search of something to eat.
It took him a good ten minutes, but he finally found what he was looking for. A vending cart that was selling roasted nuts. The smelled wafted towards him, and his mouth watered. Squinting, he could just about read the vendor's messy handwriting. The words were written in several languages; five cents a bag. The boy didn't have any money, but the vendor had so many nuts, surely he wouldn't mind. If he timed it just right…
The next time the vender turned his back to help a customer he snuck up, grabbed a bag of nuts, and took off running. As he did so, he glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had noticed
He probably should have watched where he was going.
The next thing the boy knew, he was flat on his back, staring into the concerned face of a middle-aged woman.
She helped him stand up, and her kind eyes looked him over for injuries.
"Are you alright? That was quite the tumble."
"I'm fine." He was fine, but it would be rude to leave it at that. He thought about what his father would tell him to say if he were there. "Thanks ma'am, I—my nuts!"
During his fall, the bag of nuts he had procured had gone flying. His lunch was all over the ground.
"I'm sorry?"
"My nuts. They've spilled." He bent down and started to collect them and put them back in the bag.
"Are these from the stand back there?" The lady bobbed her head in the direction of the vendor as she crouched to help him. The boy nodded.
She made a small humming noise. "I have a son who's about your age, Les, and he likes the nuts from there, too." She stood, brushing off her skirt. "Well, you certainly can't eat them now they've been on the ground. Do you have enough money for a second bag?"
"No, ma'am."
Of course, he hadn't had money for the first bag, either, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
"And that was your lunch?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She patted the pocket of her skirt briefly, before fumbling with the metal pail on her arm.
"I don't have enough money for one either, but I'm on my way to bring my husband his lunch at the factory, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind sharing."
She handed him a sandwich from within the pail.
"Thank you!"
"It's no problem dear. Just do try to watch where you're going next time."
The boy thanked her again, before heading back to his spot to enjoy his stroke of luck with the sheep.
When the boy awoke, the light was bleeding from the sky, and he was sprawled underneath a tree in the sheep meadow. The combination of the afternoon heat and his full belly must have lulled him to sleep. His neck ached something fierce, and there was a stick jabbing in his side.
There was a scuffle, and the whisper of voices to his left, and he realized that whatever was making the noise must have woken him up.
Three boys, all much older than him, were hiding in a bush next to the tree. The boy sat up, trying to hear as much of their conversation as possible.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"'Course it is! We're going to ride the sheep, just like O-dee-pus does in that book of myths the Children's Aid Society gave us."
"But he hung under the sheep, didn't he?"
"So? I'm sure we can still ride them."
He wondered if the other boys were crazy. Ride the sheep! Sheep weren't for riding, they were for watching and petting. Even a half-grown person could squash them. Those poor sheep!
"Can you hurry this up? It's almost eight o'clock. I don't even know how you talked me into this."
The boy startled. Had he heard that right? Eight o'clock! Supper was at six! He was supposed to meet his father under their tree two hours ago.
He had to get to the tree; his father was waiting for him.
The boy took off running. The tree was on the other side of sheep meadow, and he had to get there as fast as possible.
The sheep weren't having any of it. They formed a nearly impenetrable wall as the shepherds began rounding them up to herd them back to their pen. The boy found himself mad at the sheep for the first time since he knew of their existence. They were keeping him from his dad! He wove his way through the sheep, then made a beeline for the tree.
When he finally reached the tree, he was out of breath, and his father was nowhere to be seen.
"Papa? Papa!"
He circled the tree. Nothing. He ran from one end of the pathway to the other. Still nothing.
The boy felt panic rising in his throat. His father had to be here. He had to be. There was no way his dad had gone home without him. He was somewhere in the park, looking for him. If he climbed the tree, maybe he could see him.
The boy climbed the tree with wobbly limbs. He climbed higher, and higher, until he was high enough to see all the way to the reservoir. Balanced precariously on a branch, he craned his neck to see in all directions. His dad wasn't by the zoo. He wasn't by the exit to 59th street. He wasn't anywhere. The boy felt his heart plummet.
He barely noticed it when he started falling; tumbling head over heels, before hitting the ground hard.
"Ouch! That looked like it hurt."
"Yeah, but did ya see how he fell? He probably went head over heels four times!"
The boy stared, blinking up at the horrible, sheep torturing boys from the meadow.
The messiest of the three boys, who smelled strongly of sheep poo, reached out and put a hand and his shoulder. "You okay, kid?"
The boy burst into tears at the touch. He couldn't take it anymore. The urgency from his rush to get to the tree was gone. His back, shoulders, and head hurt from the fall. While he was climbing, dusk had settled over the park giving the trees a sinister feel. He was alone, in pain, with three strange boys. His dad had left him in the park.
"Kid?" All three boys were staring at him now.
The boy let out a sob, tears pooling in his eyes. "I can't find my dad!"
"Don't worry we'll help ya find him."
"Yeah. Do you have any idea where he could be? Or maybe where he works?"
He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Zoo."
"Okay, that's right nearby. We can walk ya there."
He timidly stood up, only to tumble over again, his ears ringing and eyes blurring.
The tallest of the three boys bent to his level. "C'mon. I can give you a piggyback, if you want."
"I'd take it if I were you. Skittery doesn't give piggybacks to just anyone."
The boy considered this. He didn't know them, but there was no way he could get to the zoo on his own. "M'kay."
The bigger boy, Skittery, turned around so he could climb on.
"Hold tight."
As they group began walking in the direction of the zoo, the boy felt himself begin to drift. He wanted to stay awake. He needed to stay awake. But his brain was pounding in his skull, and he was exhausted mental and physically. His ordinary day in the park had taking a sudden, scary turn, and all he wanted to do was sleep. As his eyes slid shut, he heard his rescuers begin to talk, their words little more than nonsense to his ringing ears.
"Poor kid. He must be feeling awful. We have to find his dad. He must be, what, five? Six?"
"I know. But what do we do if we can't find his dad? I'd hate to see him end up in an orphanage."
"We take him back to the lodging house with us. If everything else fails, he's cute enough to turn a decent profit. We'd just have to watch out for him."
"That's a good idea! What do ya say, kid? Wanna be a newsie?"
The boy didn't answer. He was already asleep.
This mini history lesson comes to you in 2 parts:
Part 1: The Park
-Central Park was established in 1857 on 778 acres of landed owned by New York City
-In 1858, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, a landscape architect and an architect, respectively, won a design competition to improve and expand the park with a plan they titled the "Greensward Plan". Construction began the same year and the park's first area was opened to the public in the winter of 1858
-Construction continued during the American Civil War farther south, and was expanded to its current size of 843 acres (341 ha) in 1873
Part 2: The Sheep
-Sheep Meadow is a 15-acre preserve located at the west side of Central Park from 66th to 69th Streets in Manhattan, New York City
-It is called such because, starting in 1864, Sheep Meadow housed a flock of roughly 200 pedigree Southdown (Dorset) sheep
-The sheep housed in a fanciful Victorian building or "Sheepfold" created by Jacob Wrey Mould under the direction of Calvert Vaux
-Although the main purpose of the sheep was to serve as living decoration, they served a practical purpose as well—they trimmed the grass and fertilized the lawn
-In 1870 a sheep crossing was built and twice a day a shepherd would hold up carriage traffic, and later automobiles, as he drove the animals to and from the meadow
-IIn 1934, 5 years into the Great Depression, the sheep were moved to Prospect Park in Brooklyn, and later to the Catskill Mountains. Why? Because as NYC's homeless population grew, there was much fear for the sheep's safety. Officials were concerned that starving men would turn the sheep into lunch