The Jacobs family didn't have much.
Well, actually, that was a lie.
They had a lot of kids. Ten, in fact. Now, them Jacobses, they lived in a crammed, three-room flat in a Lower Manhattan tenement. Parents and the four youngest, they slept in the smaller bedroom. The littles all slept on one bed, and the 'rents in the other. An unused cradle is shoved in a corner, at least until the next baby arrived. The older six, they got to split three beds between 'em. At least they got the (slightly) larger bedroom.
Largest room is the "eatin' and livin' room," as the firstborn Jonny calls it. They got a rickety old table Pop found lying in the street. It was missing a couple legs, but Pop's pop was a carpenter back in Poland so he knew how to fix it. They got five chairs; only two of 'em match. Some they found in trash heaps on the street, or got real cheap at some secondhand furniture shop. Their tenement's too old for an icebox, but they got a fire escape that's like a fourth room in the spring, summer, and early fall. The kids sleep out there all the time during the warm months.
There's a couple photo frames and newspaper articles hung on the wall, along with prayer cards and a saint icon Mam got as a wedding present. Pop nailed four milk crates to the wall, too. They hold all of David's—he's the second oldest—books. He gets 'em real cheap, a penny a book. Knows some guy, he says. The family don't ask, don't really care, but they indulge the habit, even if it's a bit useless. What would a boy who'll start work in the factory in two years need book for? You see, Dave's a bit of sickly kid—he gets a fever or a cough of some sort once or twice a month. They spoil him a bit because of it.
Now, those kids. Ten of 'em, they were all dark-haired and dark-eyed like their pop. Before we get to 'em, we gotta talk about their folks first. The kids wouldn't be here without their folks. Pop's a Jew of Polish stock, the son of immigrants. His name is Henryk, but everyone at work and outside the family calls him Henry. Mam calls him Harry. It's more American, after all. Now, Mam's an Irishwoman. Most devout Catholic you've ever met. Born and bred in the stinking cesspit that is Dublin, and came to America when she was fourteen with her folks and six siblings. Her name's Alannah Kelly Jacobs. Kelly's her maiden name. Married Henryk when she was seventeen. He was twenty.
Had their first "bairn," as Mam says, ten months after they married. Baptized him Catholic, and gave him the name John. Three years later, they had David. An Old Testament name to satisfy his Jewish father. In true Irish fashion, Sarah came eleven months after David. Her father picked out the name. Next was Louise, two years younger than Sarah. With the same space between 'em, Mam birthed twins, a boy and a girl. Esther and Lester—Mam insisted on matching names. Little Eleanor followed with that same two-year gap. She had an Irish twin, though—Susan. Two years after Susan came Charlotte. Mam was so sure this one was a boy—she was gonna name him Charles. Charlotte came instead. After another two years, Mam got her son, a little lad she named Samuel. Fifteen years, ten kids. That Catholics for ya.
So, to repeat, there's Pop, Mam, Jonny, David, Sarah, Lou, Essie, Les, Ellie, Susie, Lottie, and Sammy. Can't keep their names straight? Imagine how it must be for poor Mam!
Now, they're poor, but they ain't starving. Pop's got a good job as a dock manager, overseeing carters and drivers loading cargo from the ships onto their carts and trucks. Mam works nights at the factory, when the girls are home from school to mind the littles. Jonny, who's seventeen, works as a hired muscle on the docks with Pop. The kids from David to Ellie go to the local parish school, run by Catholic nuns. At night, they sew shirts they sell at a market every Saturday. If Ma isn't too tired from her shift, she'll sew during the day, too.
Basically, the family got on fine. They ate lots of potato-and-meat-broth soups, the veggies in it depending on the season. Bread, coffee, and milk for breakfast. Lunch was more bread and the cheapest canned food they sold at the grocer's down the street. They usually had bread with their supper. Mam made tons of it. Around the day rent was due, Pop sometimes rubbed dirt on Ellie and Essie and sent them off to sell Mam's loaves on the streets. "Folks'll buy anything from orphan paupers," he'd say. Mam never found out, though. She'd call it dishonest and toeing the line of the devil.
So, this story began on an ordinary day for the Jacobses. In the small bedroom, Pop slept in his bed (Mam was at work), while the littles snoozed on their slightly larger one. In the bigger bedroom, David and Jonny snored on their bed. It was late spring, so they just slept in their undershorts. Same with Les, who bunked with Essie and Ellie. Sarah and Lou had the last bed.
Their cheap alarm clock went off at six. Everyone groaned a bit, but they staggered out of bed and started getting dressed. The older two girls minded the littles, while Essie and Ellie went to the grocer's across town to get milk and coffee. Les went to find chunks of wood for Mam to use as kindling when she cooked dinner that night.
Now, since this is about David, we gotta follow his day. He donned his pinstriped shirt, tied his striped tie, clipped on his suspenders, and finished off with his checkered vest. He walked into the "eatin' and livin' room," almost running into Pop.
"Morning, Pop," he said. Pop started laughing. "What's so funny?"
"Where's your shoes and cap, sport?" Pop ruffled his hair and went to go slice the bread for breakfast. David headed back into his bedroom to put on his boots and cap.
Jonny and Pop ate a quick breakfast before heading off to the docks. Mam got back at six forty-five. The kids talked with her a bit, tried to make her laugh while she ate breakfast and nursed Sammy. They did a bit of sewing until eight-fifteen, when David announced it was time to leave for school. They grumble a bit, but they head out. The walk's quick, at least—only a few blocks.
They went to a parochial school attended by mostly Irish and German kids. They were Catholic, of course. Nuns taught the classes. They were lumped together into three age groups. The dilapidated school was freezing in winter and hotter than the Devil when it was warm out. Still, David and his siblings were learning stuff, and that was invaluable.
David was studying for his Confirmation, along with history, mathematics, and arithmetic. The curriculum was kinda bad. He read stuff about economics sometimes. The parish priest would let him buy books wealthy benefactors donated to the poor parish for pennies. He learned more from those books than he ever did in school.
At the end of the school day, about two, David collected his younger siblings. Using a nickel, he bought three potatoes from a street seller. They split them amongst themselves for lunch and some bread they packed that morning. Feeling refreshed, they headed home and trooped up four flights of stairs to get to their flat.
As soon as David opened the door, he knew something was wrong. An unfamiliar man with an Irish accent was speaking to a crying Mam. Sammy and Lottie clung to her skirt, red-faced and wailing. Susie was nowhere to be soon. David froze in the doorway—they all did. Finally David asked, "What's wrong, Mam? Who's this fellow?"
Mam dabbed at her eyes. "There was an incident at the docks today. This be Dr. McKinley."
David smiled tightly. "How do you do, sir?" He turned back to Mam. "Pop and Jonny, are they alright?"
"Pop 'urt!" Lottie wailed. Mam stroked his dark curls. David's heart dropped, and Sarah and Lou started crying.
"A delivery truck ran his leg over and broke it. The injury is severe," Dr. McKinley said. Now Les and Essie and Ellie started crying, too. David blinked his tears away.
"Pop's not dead, though? He's here, sir?" David said frantically.
"He's in a lot o' pain, but aye, he's not dead. Praise God," Mam said. Everyone made the Sign of the Cross. "The doctor set the bone, an' he splinted it or sumthin'."
"Your dad's in the back bedroom, son," the doctor added kindly. "Your brother—John?—is minding him, and one of your sisters is snuggled against him. Let him rest a bit."
"That's where Susan is," David heard Sarah mutter to Essie.
The doctor looked at the crying kids and blubbering Mam. "I'd best be going. If you need me, send one of your boys to fetch me at this address." He handed Mam a bit of paper she wouldn't be able to read. She grabbed his hand and patted it.
"Thank you, Doctor. You're too kind. God bless you," she said.
"God bless you and your family as well, Mrs. Jacobs. I pray to the Virgin tonight in his name." With that, Dr. McKinley left.
The girls all went for hugs and kisses from Mam. Les, too, even though he was a bit too old for that sort of thing. David just grabbed the sewing box and started working on a shirt. He was decent at needlework, always lending a hand with his mam and sisters' side business.
After they all cried it out, Mam made the girls and Les pick up their sewing. "I used all the rent money to pay for Pop's doctorin'," she suddenly blurted. "All the savings, too."
Sarah and David gaped at her. Lou frowned. 'Rent's due in two weeks, Mam. We can't make that much money that quick."
"Pop can't work, neither," Sarah whispered.
"We might be sleepin' on the streets," Mam said gravely. "I dunno what to do." She hugged Sammy close to her chest. "So many mouths to feed…"
David didn't look up from his sewing. He wouldn't be able to bear seeing the heartbreak on his mam's face. "We kids are gonna have to work, Mam."
Mam and the girls and Les gaped at him. "Jonny started workin' at fifteen," Lou said.
"Well Pop dun have a job no more, an' there's no cash gettin' brung now," Mam told her.
"Jonny's and Mam's salaries won't be enough to provide for the family," David added.
"Where we's gonna work?" Les said, talking like some street kid. David didn't bother correcting him.
Just then, the door to the 'rents and littles' room clicked open. Jonny said, "Factories. David can join me at the docks."
Mam frowned. "I could get Sarah a job at the factory. If Ellie an' Lou an' Essie dun go to school no more, they can sew all day an' make a lotta shirts." She looked at her sons. "Jonny's, David's too frail for the factories or the docks. Remember how he got bronkis* last month, and a fever three weeks before that? What can he do?"
"Mam, I'm not an invalid!" David protested.
Jonny held up a hand to silence him. After a moment, he said, "There's money to be had as a newsie. Les could do it, too."
"Newsies are gutter rats!" Mam said. "Such dirty, dreadful lads."
"They makes decent money, Mam. Just see how David does—Les, too. It's that or starve!" His voice rose.
"Dun take a lip with me, ladies! I dun need it from my own bairns," Mam whisper-shoute, since Pop was sleeping.
Realizing his mistake, Jonny kissed her cheek and patted her hands. "I'm real sorry, Mam."
"God help me." Mam shook her head. "Lester, David?"
"Yes, Mam?" they said.
"You go in the mornin', tell the sisters you ain't able to come for schoolin' no more. You have to do catechesis at night or sumthin'. You hear me?"
"Yes, Mam!"
She sat down at the table wearily. "I'm exhausted, lads. David, get the Bible an' read me a psalm or two."
David obliged. He thumbed through the worn family Bible, until he found Psalms. He found one psalm he thought was fitting. "'God is our refuge and strength a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…'"* And so it went on.
Mam beamed at him when he was done. "My sweet David," she said. "Even if I can't read, I've got you to do it for me." She glanced around. "The Lord will guide us through these troubled times, my bairns. Ain't nothin' we gotta be scared of." David wished he could blindly trust in the future like that.
She stood up and told Lou to help her with dinner. While everyone sewed or cooked, they prayed a Rosary, and then another one. David didn't even have to focus on it. Mam was a devout Catholic, and she had trained her children well.
They ate dinner—bread and potato-and-meat-broth soup-, setting aside bowls for Susie and Pop. Mam headed to work at five-fifteen. Her shift was from six to six. She worked at a textile factory. "I'll see if they has an opening for you, lassie," she told Sarah before she left.
David, Sarah, and Jonny sent the younger kids except for Sammy to go play outside. "No use mopin' around till Pop wakes up," Jonny said. Dragging their feet a bit, they obeyed.
"Can't believe all the savings're gone," David said in a low voice.
Jonny looked at his younger brother and sister. "We gotta take as much burden off Mam as we can, so's she can focus on Pop. It's up to us to keep the family afloat."
"Think being a newsie will be hard? They're a rough crowd," David said.
"I dunno much about newsyin'. You're gonna learn, I guess," said Jonny. "'Sides, don't be a classist to 'em. You ain't much better off than 'em." He gestured around the dingy, crammed flat.
David thought of the hungry-looking, dirty boys who hawked papers on street corners. Some were barely seven, others seventeen. Many were apart of families with similar income levels to the Jacobses, but some were street children. Their folks were either dead or just abandoned them. "I know, Jonny, I know. I'll watch out for Les, too."
"Good lad." Jonny ruffled his hair. "Hold his hand, he's prone to wanderin'."
"I know," David said aain.
"You were, too, as a little. Sari was worse." Jonny winked at his sister, who was cuddling Sammy at the table. Babies were very soothing. Sarah struck out her tongue at him, something Mam would scold her for if she was there.
David went back to sewing. He finished a shirt by eight-thirty, and Jonny at nine. By then, the younger ones came back and helped, too. They didn't finish another shirt, though. When the city bell struck ten, Jonny sent everyone to bed. David opened the door to the smaller bedroom to see Pop starting out the window, at the city lights. Susie was cuddled up against him, humming some Polish song.
"Pop, you're awake! Why didn't you holler?" Not waiting for a reply, David went to go get the soup bowls set aside for him and Susie. They slurped it down real fast.
David finally saw the leg. His dad was in his undershorts and undershirt. His leg was splinted, but it still looked a bit crooked. It was wrapped in a white gauze bandage and a white overwrap. Pop's face, hands, and shins were all scraped up, too. "How do you feel?" David asked.
"Leg hurts," Pop grunted. He turned to Susie. "You go sleep in your room, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning." He kissed her head, and off she went. He turned back to David. "Got any bread? Be a sport and go get your pop some." David brought it to him.
"I'm finding work as a newsie tomorrow. Les is too," David blurted.
"Why's that?" Pop frowned.
"Doctor cost a lot."
Pop closed his eyes. "How much, sport?"
"All the savings and rent money."
"God damn it!" Pop growled. "Alannah would've never told me, would she've?"
"Probably not," David said.
"She at work?"
"Yeah. Gonna see if they'll hire Sarah."
Pop's eyes fixed on the hamsa and crucifix nailed to the wall. "Jonny says they'll probably lay me off at the docks, won't hold my job for me."
David said nothing.
"You and your brother, you have to be there for your mam," Pop said.
"I know," David said for the third time that night. "We'll get through this, Pop, I know we will."
"Will we?" Pop stared out the window again, at the city with all its twinkling lights. Those lights never did mask the unforgiving, ruthless nature of New York City.
That next morning, David and Les woke up at dawn. David put on his shirt, waistcoat, suspenders, trousers, and tie. They were a bit worn, but clean and mended. He remembered his boots and cap this time. Once he and Les ate breakfast, they hurried to get to Newsboy Square. Pop suggested selling for The World, since it was his favorite newspaper. David figured the newspaper handed out bundles the newsies would pay for later, and then he'd give back the ones he didn't sell. Just in case, he took the last dime from his Christmas stash.
David hoped they had a good first day on the job.
A/N:
- "bronkis" is bronchitis
- the psalm Davey reads to his mother is Psalm 46.
So, this is my first Newsies fic! This was just a quick little thing, hopefully it isn't too trashy. Critiques and reviews are always welcome in the comments.
A couple things I think I should explain:
- I've always loved large family dynamics, and how growing up in a large vs. small family affects a character. That's how I ended up creating eight more Jacobs kids :)
- I feel like Les seems a little OOC-he's not nearly as outgoing in this one-shot as he is in the musical. I toned him down a bit since his father did just get run over by a truck :). He cries because he's afraid for his dad, and what little boy doesn't seek comfort from his mom once in a while?
- Y'all may be wondering why I didn't make Davey and his siblings Jewish, since it is implied they are in the musical by the Jacobs' brothers names. I found myself struggling to write an accurate portrayal of life in a devout Jewish household, so I turned to Catholicism, my own religion. I didn't want to disrespect or not portray Judaism correctly. I'm by no means a hardcore Catholic; I make infrequent forays to church once or twice a month. However, I know a bunch about Catholicism and I know how hardcore Catholic families work. I made Henryk, their dad, Jewish to try and compensate for that. Hopefully my explanation makes sense!
This was originally posted on AO3 on February 24, 2018, under the same username.
Thanks for reading! I love reviews, they make my day! Much love~
