It was foggy and mournful day as a large crowd gathered around an aging wooden coffin. Sobs and sniffles could be heard from the women in the crowd while their men clutched them close. A small ten year old boy, stood at the forefront, nearest the coffin. He grasped a wooden slingshot tightly in his hands; he tried to cry but no tears would come. His father had always told him, "You're a man, men don't cry, no matter what happens in life always remember I will be watching over you. I love you, kiddo." He wanted to be a man and do as his father told him but now with his father lying dead in the coffin before him, he couldn't hold back his tears. A woman knelt down to comfort him, it was his new caretaker, an old friend of his father's, Sara Jacobs Kelly. She was caring and kind, having three children of her own and married to Jack Kelly, but the boy, Joshua, wanted no part of any other family but his own.
His mother had died in childbirth, his childbirth, and his father limped on ever since, taking good care of his son, giving Joshua the love and attention he deserved but always feeling incomplete. For eight long years, he struggled and agonized with his life, trying his best to raise his child. The task was hard for any single parent but it was even harder for a teenager to do. Joshua's parents met as newsies one night at Medda Larkson's theatre; his father was 16 and his mother was 15. They dated for a year before Joshua was conceived. Though his father spoke often about his mother, Joshua had to learn about both his parents and their budding romance from others, such as Jack Kelly, David Jacobs or Blink. Joshua's father gave his heart to his woman, there was not a thing he would not do for her, even willing to give his life for her. But it was she that gave her life first, for his sake, for her son's sake and she did it out pure love. Joshua had often watched his father within his last year sitting quietly at the table, gazing at her picture, in pain. He would suddenly shout out in agony before clutching his chest. Joshua recalled this happening increasingly in recent weeks.
Then one morning Joshua woke up and went to wake his father, but his father would not wake up. "Papa, Papa it's time to get up." No answer. His father's body felt cold. After several attempts to wake his father, he realized his father was gone. The tears began to stream down his cheeks "Papa! Don't leave me here, alone."
The coroner had inspected the body and ruled the death as a heart attack. The truth is, Papa died of a broken heart. Even though it was broke when Joshua's mother died, the pieces stuck together for as long as they could before at last he gave up the ghost.
Now, young Joshua stood within an inch of his father's coffin. "I love you, Papa," was all the poor boy could muster before he tearfully pressed his lips to the wood that entombed his friend, his role model, his Papa. The grave, which was dug next to Joshua's mother, was filled in and a marker placed over it reading:
The king has gone to be with his queen, his love, his angel.
Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn
Beloved Husband, Father, Friend, and Newsie
1884 – 1908
When the funeral had ended and it had come time to leave with the Kellys, Joshua turned slowly, thanked his father's friends, then took off down the road, vanishing into the fog. Jack tried to follow him but could not track him through the dense mist.
The son of Conlon was not heard from again until five years later, when he assumed the role his father had once held as leader of Brooklyn. He was the spitting image of Spot. His name echoed the streets and talk spread quickly of the return of the Conlon line. He knew he was where he was supposed to be, it was always his destiny to follow in his father's footsteps and he knew his father was looking down with pride on his son.