Part III
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So, Sally and Michael arrived in New York City with a friend. Conlon's Boarding House was in Brooklyn, near a pier. Sally and Michael had a small room on the top floor with two small beds, a table, a small stove, and a window looking onto the pier.
During the day, Sally was busy washing windows, sweeping the floors, and making meals for Mr. Conlon. She earned their stay, but she wanted more money for new dresses and things that she'd enjoy. She was growing sick of the only dress she had, and desperately missed her powder, rouge, and other cosmetics. So, Sally turned to… other work…
Meanwhile, every morning Michael went out to play with the boys on the pier. Most of them were newsies, boys who sold the papes for a penny a piece to make their living. They lived in a Newsboys' Lodging House near Conlon's, and always seemed to enjoy each other's company. They were tough boys and often beat up other newsies, but they seemed to like Michael from the first day.
"What's yer name, kid?" one asked.
"What's it to ya?" challenged Michael.
The kid came over to him. "Tell me yer name, or I'se gonna t'row ya in da rivah!"
"I ain't gotta name," said Michael. He didn't want to tell those boys his name.
"Ev'rybody's gotta name, kid!"
"Well, I don't."
"Well den what are we s'posed ta call ya?"
"I dunno," Michael said with a shrug.
"Well, I dunno 'bout you, but I wouldn't wanna be called da kid wit da spotted shoit," the leader of the Brooklyn newsies said.
"Well I ain't got no uddah name, so I guess dat's what it'll be," said Michael. "I gotta last name, dough."
"Well what's dat?"
"Conlon."
"Like da boardin' 'owse?"
"Yeah, like da boardin' 'owse," replied Michael, already beginning to pick up the Brooklyn accent. He liked the Brooklyn accent. Plus, he knew that it would annoy Sally.
"So I guess ya don't need no money. Dat why you ain't a newsie?"
"I ain't a newsie cause I don't know nuttin' 'bout bein' a newsie."
"Well den we'll teach ya," the leader offered.
Michael paused. Money in his pockets… maybe eventually enough to get away from Sally… "Awright," Michael said.
The leader spit on his palm and held his hand out. Michael glanced at him, then imitated the gesture. The Brooklyn newsies cheered as a new newsie was admitted to their clan.
So, Michael began his life as a newsie. He was only seven, the youngest newsie, but could sell as many as any of them. He enjoyed walking around all day long, selling papes. Most of the other boys sold their papes with a partner, but Michael enjoyed the privacy. He had never had privacy, so he wanted as much of it as he could get. Michael had a good sense of direction and soon knew the streets of Brooklyn like the back of his hand.
Michael hid all his money in a sock, which he kept in his pillow. Sally had no idea the money was there. She was beginning to hate her new job. It was stressful and tiring, and she didn't want Mr. Conlon to find out. He was like a kind, loving father to both of the children.
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One morning, as Michael was heading down the stairs to go out and buy his papes for the day, Mr. Conlon stopped him. "Hello, Michael!"
"Aww, hiya Mistah Conlin! How ya doin'?"
"I'm well, and how are you, Michael?"
"I'se real good." Michael was heading for the door when Mr. Conlon stopped him.
"How would you like to go shopping, get some new clothes? Those ones are getting awfully small for you."
Michael wrinkled up his nose. What would the newsies say when he didn't show up that day? Then he decided that it would be nice to get something new for once. "Awright, I guess so." Mr. Conlon put a hand on Michael's shoulder as they headed out the door. A boy who Michael had seen a few times walked by. The boy was about a year older than Michael was and quite a bit taller, with brown hair. He wasn't a Brooklyn newsie, and Michael didn't know why he was always in their territory. Michael glared at him as he walked by. The newsie laughed.
"What's da mattah witcha, kid? Geemaneez, dese Brooklyn newsies, so territorial…" he laughed. Two other Brooklyn newsies pounced on him, or Michael would've done it himself.
Mr. Conlon and Michael didn't return to the boarding house until nearly noon. Michael ran up to the attic to change into his new clothes. Pulling his gray cap on, he darted out the door and ran to the pier to meet the newsies before the afternoon edition came out. He still had a chance to make some money.
"Hey spotted shoit Conlon, ya ain't got a spotted shoit no more!" noted Red, an older newsie with bright red hair, as he came over to Michael.
"Yeah! Me an' me fadda went shoppin' taday." Michael stopped as that newsie walked by again. The newsie glanced at Michael, laughed, and then continued walking.
"See ya, Cowboy! Ya come back real soon, awright?" called Fish, the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He got his nickname because he loved swimming.
"'Ey Fish, who's dat?" asked Michael.
"Dat's Cowboy. 'E's da leadah a da Manhattan newsies. An' wheah was ya all day, Spotty?"
"Me fadda took me shoppin'," he replied casually. "C'mon, let's go get some papes, huh?"
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When Michael returned late that evening, he heard shouting inside the boarding house. As he approached, he could tell it was coming from Mr. Conlon's parlor. He opened the front door and peered in the keyhole. Sally was standing in there, apparently arguing with him.
"I feed you, I clothe you, I give you work here, I provide you with a room for you and your bratty little brother-"
"He is not my brother!"
"And what do you do? You go and do something disgraceful like this!"
"I'm tired of not having any money of my own! Besides, no matter how much you want to be, you're not my father! My father's dead and so is my mother. There isn't anyone left to tell me what to do and I certainly don't need you telling me what to do!"
"Young lady, while you live under this roof, you will obey my rules!"
"If you didn't already know me, you would've hired me and you know it!"
There was a slapping sound. A moment later, the door was thrown open and Sally was thrown to the floor. "I'm giving you ten minutes to get out of my boarding house. You are a disgrace! I hope you end up on the streets with no one to care for you."
Sally glared at him, her cheek beginning to redden. "I hope this awful place burns to the ground! Come on, Michael. We're leaving."
"No, the boy stays with me."
"He is not your concern!"
"You don't care for him the way I do."
Sally grabbed Michael's wrist and nearly dragged him up the stairs.
"Wheah's we goin'?" asked Michael.
"We're moving out. And get rid of that awful accent! It sounds so uncivilized." Sally began shoving her things into pillowcases. "Michael, you are never to talk to Mr. Conlon, ever again. Do you hear me?"
"Wheah's we gonna live now, Sally?" asked Michael as he grabbed his own pillow.
"I told you to stop with that accent!"
Michael sighed and rolled his eyes. "Where are we going to live now, Sally?" asked Michael, pronouncing each syllable separately.
Sally rolled her eyes. "I don't know. There's quite a few boarding houses we can live in." She paused. "Well, that's all. We're leaving right now."
Michael paused in the doorway, looking back at the fourth home he was leaving. He wondered if he would ever find a true home.
---------
So, Sally and Michael arrived in New York City with a friend. Conlon's Boarding House was in Brooklyn, near a pier. Sally and Michael had a small room on the top floor with two small beds, a table, a small stove, and a window looking onto the pier.
During the day, Sally was busy washing windows, sweeping the floors, and making meals for Mr. Conlon. She earned their stay, but she wanted more money for new dresses and things that she'd enjoy. She was growing sick of the only dress she had, and desperately missed her powder, rouge, and other cosmetics. So, Sally turned to… other work…
Meanwhile, every morning Michael went out to play with the boys on the pier. Most of them were newsies, boys who sold the papes for a penny a piece to make their living. They lived in a Newsboys' Lodging House near Conlon's, and always seemed to enjoy each other's company. They were tough boys and often beat up other newsies, but they seemed to like Michael from the first day.
"What's yer name, kid?" one asked.
"What's it to ya?" challenged Michael.
The kid came over to him. "Tell me yer name, or I'se gonna t'row ya in da rivah!"
"I ain't gotta name," said Michael. He didn't want to tell those boys his name.
"Ev'rybody's gotta name, kid!"
"Well, I don't."
"Well den what are we s'posed ta call ya?"
"I dunno," Michael said with a shrug.
"Well, I dunno 'bout you, but I wouldn't wanna be called da kid wit da spotted shoit," the leader of the Brooklyn newsies said.
"Well I ain't got no uddah name, so I guess dat's what it'll be," said Michael. "I gotta last name, dough."
"Well what's dat?"
"Conlon."
"Like da boardin' 'owse?"
"Yeah, like da boardin' 'owse," replied Michael, already beginning to pick up the Brooklyn accent. He liked the Brooklyn accent. Plus, he knew that it would annoy Sally.
"So I guess ya don't need no money. Dat why you ain't a newsie?"
"I ain't a newsie cause I don't know nuttin' 'bout bein' a newsie."
"Well den we'll teach ya," the leader offered.
Michael paused. Money in his pockets… maybe eventually enough to get away from Sally… "Awright," Michael said.
The leader spit on his palm and held his hand out. Michael glanced at him, then imitated the gesture. The Brooklyn newsies cheered as a new newsie was admitted to their clan.
So, Michael began his life as a newsie. He was only seven, the youngest newsie, but could sell as many as any of them. He enjoyed walking around all day long, selling papes. Most of the other boys sold their papes with a partner, but Michael enjoyed the privacy. He had never had privacy, so he wanted as much of it as he could get. Michael had a good sense of direction and soon knew the streets of Brooklyn like the back of his hand.
Michael hid all his money in a sock, which he kept in his pillow. Sally had no idea the money was there. She was beginning to hate her new job. It was stressful and tiring, and she didn't want Mr. Conlon to find out. He was like a kind, loving father to both of the children.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One morning, as Michael was heading down the stairs to go out and buy his papes for the day, Mr. Conlon stopped him. "Hello, Michael!"
"Aww, hiya Mistah Conlin! How ya doin'?"
"I'm well, and how are you, Michael?"
"I'se real good." Michael was heading for the door when Mr. Conlon stopped him.
"How would you like to go shopping, get some new clothes? Those ones are getting awfully small for you."
Michael wrinkled up his nose. What would the newsies say when he didn't show up that day? Then he decided that it would be nice to get something new for once. "Awright, I guess so." Mr. Conlon put a hand on Michael's shoulder as they headed out the door. A boy who Michael had seen a few times walked by. The boy was about a year older than Michael was and quite a bit taller, with brown hair. He wasn't a Brooklyn newsie, and Michael didn't know why he was always in their territory. Michael glared at him as he walked by. The newsie laughed.
"What's da mattah witcha, kid? Geemaneez, dese Brooklyn newsies, so territorial…" he laughed. Two other Brooklyn newsies pounced on him, or Michael would've done it himself.
Mr. Conlon and Michael didn't return to the boarding house until nearly noon. Michael ran up to the attic to change into his new clothes. Pulling his gray cap on, he darted out the door and ran to the pier to meet the newsies before the afternoon edition came out. He still had a chance to make some money.
"Hey spotted shoit Conlon, ya ain't got a spotted shoit no more!" noted Red, an older newsie with bright red hair, as he came over to Michael.
"Yeah! Me an' me fadda went shoppin' taday." Michael stopped as that newsie walked by again. The newsie glanced at Michael, laughed, and then continued walking.
"See ya, Cowboy! Ya come back real soon, awright?" called Fish, the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He got his nickname because he loved swimming.
"'Ey Fish, who's dat?" asked Michael.
"Dat's Cowboy. 'E's da leadah a da Manhattan newsies. An' wheah was ya all day, Spotty?"
"Me fadda took me shoppin'," he replied casually. "C'mon, let's go get some papes, huh?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Michael returned late that evening, he heard shouting inside the boarding house. As he approached, he could tell it was coming from Mr. Conlon's parlor. He opened the front door and peered in the keyhole. Sally was standing in there, apparently arguing with him.
"I feed you, I clothe you, I give you work here, I provide you with a room for you and your bratty little brother-"
"He is not my brother!"
"And what do you do? You go and do something disgraceful like this!"
"I'm tired of not having any money of my own! Besides, no matter how much you want to be, you're not my father! My father's dead and so is my mother. There isn't anyone left to tell me what to do and I certainly don't need you telling me what to do!"
"Young lady, while you live under this roof, you will obey my rules!"
"If you didn't already know me, you would've hired me and you know it!"
There was a slapping sound. A moment later, the door was thrown open and Sally was thrown to the floor. "I'm giving you ten minutes to get out of my boarding house. You are a disgrace! I hope you end up on the streets with no one to care for you."
Sally glared at him, her cheek beginning to redden. "I hope this awful place burns to the ground! Come on, Michael. We're leaving."
"No, the boy stays with me."
"He is not your concern!"
"You don't care for him the way I do."
Sally grabbed Michael's wrist and nearly dragged him up the stairs.
"Wheah's we goin'?" asked Michael.
"We're moving out. And get rid of that awful accent! It sounds so uncivilized." Sally began shoving her things into pillowcases. "Michael, you are never to talk to Mr. Conlon, ever again. Do you hear me?"
"Wheah's we gonna live now, Sally?" asked Michael as he grabbed his own pillow.
"I told you to stop with that accent!"
Michael sighed and rolled his eyes. "Where are we going to live now, Sally?" asked Michael, pronouncing each syllable separately.
Sally rolled her eyes. "I don't know. There's quite a few boarding houses we can live in." She paused. "Well, that's all. We're leaving right now."
Michael paused in the doorway, looking back at the fourth home he was leaving. He wondered if he would ever find a true home.