DISCLAIMER: Crying beans! I don't own any of the characters from Newsies!
Seriously, now. Is this necessary? Obviously I don't! In any case, they
belong to that place called Disney that likes to ruin movies by making
sequels for them. : ) Anywho, the 52 other characters in this story are
MINE! And yes, I said 52. And then, Dimples owns herself. ^_^
A.N. FINALLY FINISHED! Thank You to EVERYONE who reviewed! You guys rock! It was so much fun reading all your comments and feedback! I'm glad you all have enjoyed this story so much! Look forward to reading more from me in the future. Right now, I'm working on "Just A Little Bet" which will soon be finished. Forthcoming story: "Eternal Avenger" and "Impressions". Anyways, THANK YOU for all the reviews once again!
*~*~*~*~THE BROOKLYN BOYS~*~*~*~*
52 Newsies, 1 Lodging House, Countless Stories
Alas, my story comes to an end, but the memories are eternal, like the waters of a great unchanging ocean. It brought me much merriment these past few entries to relive my moments of hardships and tribulations, for I was shown through their reiteration that there is yet enough strength within the human spirit to persevere and make beneficial a seemingly misfortunate occasion.
As I go on to pursue whatever destiny Fate has in store for me, I hope that my records never go unnoticed by my successors. May they acquire some grain of wisdom through reading how I vanquished my tribulations; may they be encouraged to never falter in their steps. Never was leadership a leisurely task, never was it a mere hobby for anyone's undertaking. It takes time and labor, and it takes the strength of a stout heart.
Surely I don't mean to daunt Brooklyn's future princes, but as dreamers we are yet responsible to acknowledge Reality's beckoning. Being a leader consumes you, it takes all the endurance you are capable of expiring. Failures will constantly surmount the ashes of your mistakes, and there'll come times when you wish death upon yourself. But never give in, and never hold back! Fight with the passion of a true Brooklynite and know that we are the warriors of New York!
Addressing my younger cousin, Lucas 'Runner' Conlon, I remember how infantile his mannerisms were upon first joining the Brooklyn brood, how mischievous his nature. He acted without first thinking, and very much harbored a rebellious spirit too unruly for even me to tame sometimes. He was brash and foolish, apt to involve himself with brawls that could have otherwise been avoided had he enough sense to practice rationality. I was a powerful, almighty Oberon and Runner was the borough's roguish Puck, scampering here and there to meddle about like a child.
But in time, Runner obtained his maturity as he began to understand the serious nature by which he was expected to conduct leadership affairs. He finally understood that life was not a game anymore, that one wrong slip could end him in the Refuge...or even six feet under a mound of dirt. He learned to hold his tongue until his thoughts processed the right words, and he developed a way of diplomacy that tickled our enemies' ears and fooled them into clever trappings. He was a sharp thinker, and finally applied that gift in a way that would benefit the borough he was to inherit.
Such is life. For the most part, we go through childhood and adolescence living as carefree individuals, doing as we wish and never having to be burdened with the rough nature of street-life. At least, those of us who are fortunate to be raised with a family in a fitting home and with access to education exhibit such beginnings. But being with the newsies for the past years has taught me volumes of lessons, has taught me to appreciate all that I have and all that I have the potential to become!
First there was the matter of individuality. Why strive to be just another specimen of some confounded mold? Why be a second-rate muckety-muck when you could be a first-rate YOU? My ruffian life freed me from the constraints society was trying to bind me with. I was finally at liberty to be the person I wanted to be, and I didn't have to impress anyone but myself!
Often times, as I sold my papers on the street corners I would watch the aristocrats pass by with their tidy suits or dresses and only pity them. Why did they think it a necessity to conform to the masses? The ladies suffocated in those blasted corsets and ridiculous dress accessories...but why? What was wrong with simple slacks and a blouse? To whom were they putting on this meaningless charade? I never understood it, but I always hoped that one day they'd come around to realizing all the possession they strived so hard to acquire in life would only stay behind when they neared their deathbed.
The freedom to be your own person is truly a gift many people take advantage of, but one that I would never forsake. If people choose to judge me by my past, by my appearance, or by whatever idiotic means they see fit, they would be missing out on having a wonderful friendship.
Following close behind was Patience, and the Brooklyn spies who taught me the virtue through their trying personalities. If one wishes to lead dozens of newsies, patience is something he'll need in abundance. It's man's folly to think everything evolves into good within seconds, that it takes no time for hardships to transform into wonderful circumstances. On the contrary, we're often called to exert all our energy into something...and then afterwards wait days, weeks, even months before we see likable outcomes.
I'll be the first to admit that I desired to set up my network of spies within a day's time. Never did I think it would be as great a difficulty as it proved. When the hours kept ticking by and the results were not to my approval, I had every notion to simply give up! I was anger- driven and stressed beyond all limits.
But had I quitted the race right then and there, what would that say about me? How could I have the audacity to face a kingdom of Brooky's with authoritative power if I hadn't even the willpower to deal with them one-on- one? It would reflect poorly on my determination no doubt. It would show that my suave violent front coated nothing but shallow resolve.
No, I needed the patience to help me through it all. Without the persistence, I would have thrown in the towel by the end of day one. Without the tolerance, I would have lashed out at my newsies with a fierce rage. But without the patience, I would never be the leader Brooklyn needed...a leader not afraid to be cruel and disciplining, but one that understood his boys well, and knew each one needed to feel accepted.
Wisdom I've already partially discussed through Runner's development as a succeeding leader. What good are all the riches in the world if you're too foolish to understand how to use them to your benefit? Wisdom and leadership go hand in hand. Numerous times have I seen a borough go under the rule of an ignorant jackass, and each time those kingdoms fell as if they were made of paper.
A leader needs to know how to handle his charges, and how to resolve the differences among them. He should not be bias in any respect, and he must skillfully learn how to avoid favoritism. He must execute his decisions with precision and accuracy, and must examine how those decisions will affect not only him, but those whose lives are entrusted into his hands.
Wisdom will get you far as a leader. As I've learned over and over these past years, it comes to be a close companion to you. As a muse is to its writer, so is wisdom to the one who holds such large responsibility.
Grace under fire in my opinion best defines Courage. When you're back is up against a wall and it seems like there is no way out but through the scorching fire of your enemy's interrogations, yet you have within you an unmatchable serenity, that is courage. When it seems as if all have turned on you and there's not a single comrade to whom you can spill your troubles, yet you have the strength to greet another day, that is courage. When life threatens to drown you with its troubles and you know no ways to make ends meet, yet you maintain your pride in hopes that all will go well in the end, that is courage.
And having gone through all like scenarios, could I be any more courageous? I let nothing get the better of me, and anyone in New York who knows me well can attest to that fact. I wear an infallible shield of valiance upon me, and perhaps that's why they call me fearless, for I fear nothing. Why should I? I know in my heart that Fate will see me through and that no matter what schemes my enemies have planned for me, I'll have the means by which to see myself through.
Lastly, that ageless need all of mankind undoubtedly live for. Family...or in simpler dictation, Love. Of course I'd never speak of it openly, but there is a bond that links me to my newsies, a web of familiarity that binds and attaches us in unexplainable ways. We're a unit, members of a like kin. Though not related in blood, we share the background of a life that didn't suit us, and we share the want for friends who accept us.
The newsies are like a family to me. They're always there when I need someone to hear me rant, and they make sure to keep me in check whenever my temper becomes a wrath. They support me in all that I do, and speak proudly of our borough and its 'king'. Together, what a force we make! Like a modern day cavalry of heavy caliber. We're a union, a fellowship. We watch out for each other, and always defend each other no matter what the costs. You'll never find a more closer family.
And so it is with a heavy heart that I finally relinquish my reign over Brooklyn and entrust it into younger hands. Just weeks ago I reached my nineteenth year in life and no longer do my days of peddling papers suit me. It's become a boy's task to me, and it's time that I become a man and find other work.
I'm a bit hesitant about going out into the big world, for my ranks were high when I was Brooklyn leader and I must once again start at the bottom of the social ladder, limping about the lower rungs like an unworthy beast. It is my wish to attend a university and then head off to study law at some graduate school, but I know small steps are the primary rules for such expensive dreams. As for now, a simple job will get me by until I find other work.
I've finally reunited with 'the one that got away'...or at least, the one who would've gone away had I not been man enough to finally reveal my feelings to her one winter's day at Central Park.
On December 30, 1901, I knelt before the love of my life, offered to her a silver band, and asked her to marry me. Dewey's eyes were tearful when she exclaimed that she couldn't imagine herself spending her life with anyone else and happily accepted my proposal. Life can't get any better. Currently, she still resides with her brother and aunt in a downtown apartment, but once I save enough money, we'll have a 'fairy-tale' wedding (as she so affectionately puts it) and move in together to start a new life as one.
She enlivens my days, that girl. I had spent so much time in life remaining indifferent to love and trying ever hard from falling too deeply for someone, but on the verge of losing her, I realized my nonchalance would only see me as a lonely, bitter man until death. True, love hurts...but the joys it brings with it are worth the trouble.
In a few weeks, Runner will ascend to my position as leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He's nervous as all hell, but I endlessly tell him that as long as he writes the lessons I've learned on the tablet of his heart, he'll make a great leader. I truly believe this. As a Conlon, he naturally has wonderful potential, but he owes much of his passion to his youthfulness (for the young are known for their zeal) and to his high spirits.
I'm briefly reminded of the time shortly before the summer of 1899 when Runner and one of his younger companions approached me with a cane in hand and passed the object over to me with the utmost reverence. When I arched my eyebrows in question, the smaller of the two-who happened to be one of my half pints-said:
"Everyone in New York's talkin' 'bout ya, Spot! Brooky's is stopped in the streets every day and asked 'bout Spot Conlon. Youse is a legend!"
Runner nodded with a grin. "Yea, youse is more than just a leadah now, Spot. You're a damn god!" He shoved his hands down his pant pockets a bit bashfully and diverted his gaze to the hard wooding of the docks. "And well...since we'se all consider ya a king, we thought youse should have a scepter of some sort."
With a smirk, I examined the cane, much honored by their thoughtfulness. It was a fine make, with a polished black shaft and a tip that glimmered like a nugget of gold. I would always carry the cane with me thereafter to remind me of how my boys looked up to me, and of how I needed to conduct myself reasonably if only for that reason. And now I twirl it in my hands, my soul feeling torn by the decision I've made to step down from my ranks.
As I write the last words of this entry, I feel a part of me is being left behind here in Brooklyn. The history of my leadership will ever be remembered in the minds of my newsies, but what of those who are born generations from now? Decades past, will people still talk about the great Spot Conlon and how all of New York revered him like a king? Will people still talk about how Brooklyn came to Manhattan's aid during the 1899 Newsboy Strike, and how eventually we showed the nation that underdogs can still win when the deck's been rigged? Will anyone remember my newsies, those who often proved to be enigmatic and troubled souls, those who made Brooklyn the mystery it still is?
They say legends can stretch over vast lengths of times...but can't they still fade? A century from now, will I be remembered as a wrathful tyrant whom everyone despised, or a gracious leader who cared for every single one of his charges? Will I be remembered as one whom everyone avoided, or as one from whom my friends extracted patience, wisdom, courage, and the feel of family?
Let us hope that my impact on history will be smiled upon, and that history etches out my life as one that touched and inspired the lives of many.
~*~*~*~*~
A.N. FINALLY FINISHED! Thank You to EVERYONE who reviewed! You guys rock! It was so much fun reading all your comments and feedback! I'm glad you all have enjoyed this story so much! Look forward to reading more from me in the future. Right now, I'm working on "Just A Little Bet" which will soon be finished. Forthcoming story: "Eternal Avenger" and "Impressions". Anyways, THANK YOU for all the reviews once again!
*~*~*~*~THE BROOKLYN BOYS~*~*~*~*
52 Newsies, 1 Lodging House, Countless Stories
Alas, my story comes to an end, but the memories are eternal, like the waters of a great unchanging ocean. It brought me much merriment these past few entries to relive my moments of hardships and tribulations, for I was shown through their reiteration that there is yet enough strength within the human spirit to persevere and make beneficial a seemingly misfortunate occasion.
As I go on to pursue whatever destiny Fate has in store for me, I hope that my records never go unnoticed by my successors. May they acquire some grain of wisdom through reading how I vanquished my tribulations; may they be encouraged to never falter in their steps. Never was leadership a leisurely task, never was it a mere hobby for anyone's undertaking. It takes time and labor, and it takes the strength of a stout heart.
Surely I don't mean to daunt Brooklyn's future princes, but as dreamers we are yet responsible to acknowledge Reality's beckoning. Being a leader consumes you, it takes all the endurance you are capable of expiring. Failures will constantly surmount the ashes of your mistakes, and there'll come times when you wish death upon yourself. But never give in, and never hold back! Fight with the passion of a true Brooklynite and know that we are the warriors of New York!
Addressing my younger cousin, Lucas 'Runner' Conlon, I remember how infantile his mannerisms were upon first joining the Brooklyn brood, how mischievous his nature. He acted without first thinking, and very much harbored a rebellious spirit too unruly for even me to tame sometimes. He was brash and foolish, apt to involve himself with brawls that could have otherwise been avoided had he enough sense to practice rationality. I was a powerful, almighty Oberon and Runner was the borough's roguish Puck, scampering here and there to meddle about like a child.
But in time, Runner obtained his maturity as he began to understand the serious nature by which he was expected to conduct leadership affairs. He finally understood that life was not a game anymore, that one wrong slip could end him in the Refuge...or even six feet under a mound of dirt. He learned to hold his tongue until his thoughts processed the right words, and he developed a way of diplomacy that tickled our enemies' ears and fooled them into clever trappings. He was a sharp thinker, and finally applied that gift in a way that would benefit the borough he was to inherit.
Such is life. For the most part, we go through childhood and adolescence living as carefree individuals, doing as we wish and never having to be burdened with the rough nature of street-life. At least, those of us who are fortunate to be raised with a family in a fitting home and with access to education exhibit such beginnings. But being with the newsies for the past years has taught me volumes of lessons, has taught me to appreciate all that I have and all that I have the potential to become!
First there was the matter of individuality. Why strive to be just another specimen of some confounded mold? Why be a second-rate muckety-muck when you could be a first-rate YOU? My ruffian life freed me from the constraints society was trying to bind me with. I was finally at liberty to be the person I wanted to be, and I didn't have to impress anyone but myself!
Often times, as I sold my papers on the street corners I would watch the aristocrats pass by with their tidy suits or dresses and only pity them. Why did they think it a necessity to conform to the masses? The ladies suffocated in those blasted corsets and ridiculous dress accessories...but why? What was wrong with simple slacks and a blouse? To whom were they putting on this meaningless charade? I never understood it, but I always hoped that one day they'd come around to realizing all the possession they strived so hard to acquire in life would only stay behind when they neared their deathbed.
The freedom to be your own person is truly a gift many people take advantage of, but one that I would never forsake. If people choose to judge me by my past, by my appearance, or by whatever idiotic means they see fit, they would be missing out on having a wonderful friendship.
Following close behind was Patience, and the Brooklyn spies who taught me the virtue through their trying personalities. If one wishes to lead dozens of newsies, patience is something he'll need in abundance. It's man's folly to think everything evolves into good within seconds, that it takes no time for hardships to transform into wonderful circumstances. On the contrary, we're often called to exert all our energy into something...and then afterwards wait days, weeks, even months before we see likable outcomes.
I'll be the first to admit that I desired to set up my network of spies within a day's time. Never did I think it would be as great a difficulty as it proved. When the hours kept ticking by and the results were not to my approval, I had every notion to simply give up! I was anger- driven and stressed beyond all limits.
But had I quitted the race right then and there, what would that say about me? How could I have the audacity to face a kingdom of Brooky's with authoritative power if I hadn't even the willpower to deal with them one-on- one? It would reflect poorly on my determination no doubt. It would show that my suave violent front coated nothing but shallow resolve.
No, I needed the patience to help me through it all. Without the persistence, I would have thrown in the towel by the end of day one. Without the tolerance, I would have lashed out at my newsies with a fierce rage. But without the patience, I would never be the leader Brooklyn needed...a leader not afraid to be cruel and disciplining, but one that understood his boys well, and knew each one needed to feel accepted.
Wisdom I've already partially discussed through Runner's development as a succeeding leader. What good are all the riches in the world if you're too foolish to understand how to use them to your benefit? Wisdom and leadership go hand in hand. Numerous times have I seen a borough go under the rule of an ignorant jackass, and each time those kingdoms fell as if they were made of paper.
A leader needs to know how to handle his charges, and how to resolve the differences among them. He should not be bias in any respect, and he must skillfully learn how to avoid favoritism. He must execute his decisions with precision and accuracy, and must examine how those decisions will affect not only him, but those whose lives are entrusted into his hands.
Wisdom will get you far as a leader. As I've learned over and over these past years, it comes to be a close companion to you. As a muse is to its writer, so is wisdom to the one who holds such large responsibility.
Grace under fire in my opinion best defines Courage. When you're back is up against a wall and it seems like there is no way out but through the scorching fire of your enemy's interrogations, yet you have within you an unmatchable serenity, that is courage. When it seems as if all have turned on you and there's not a single comrade to whom you can spill your troubles, yet you have the strength to greet another day, that is courage. When life threatens to drown you with its troubles and you know no ways to make ends meet, yet you maintain your pride in hopes that all will go well in the end, that is courage.
And having gone through all like scenarios, could I be any more courageous? I let nothing get the better of me, and anyone in New York who knows me well can attest to that fact. I wear an infallible shield of valiance upon me, and perhaps that's why they call me fearless, for I fear nothing. Why should I? I know in my heart that Fate will see me through and that no matter what schemes my enemies have planned for me, I'll have the means by which to see myself through.
Lastly, that ageless need all of mankind undoubtedly live for. Family...or in simpler dictation, Love. Of course I'd never speak of it openly, but there is a bond that links me to my newsies, a web of familiarity that binds and attaches us in unexplainable ways. We're a unit, members of a like kin. Though not related in blood, we share the background of a life that didn't suit us, and we share the want for friends who accept us.
The newsies are like a family to me. They're always there when I need someone to hear me rant, and they make sure to keep me in check whenever my temper becomes a wrath. They support me in all that I do, and speak proudly of our borough and its 'king'. Together, what a force we make! Like a modern day cavalry of heavy caliber. We're a union, a fellowship. We watch out for each other, and always defend each other no matter what the costs. You'll never find a more closer family.
And so it is with a heavy heart that I finally relinquish my reign over Brooklyn and entrust it into younger hands. Just weeks ago I reached my nineteenth year in life and no longer do my days of peddling papers suit me. It's become a boy's task to me, and it's time that I become a man and find other work.
I'm a bit hesitant about going out into the big world, for my ranks were high when I was Brooklyn leader and I must once again start at the bottom of the social ladder, limping about the lower rungs like an unworthy beast. It is my wish to attend a university and then head off to study law at some graduate school, but I know small steps are the primary rules for such expensive dreams. As for now, a simple job will get me by until I find other work.
I've finally reunited with 'the one that got away'...or at least, the one who would've gone away had I not been man enough to finally reveal my feelings to her one winter's day at Central Park.
On December 30, 1901, I knelt before the love of my life, offered to her a silver band, and asked her to marry me. Dewey's eyes were tearful when she exclaimed that she couldn't imagine herself spending her life with anyone else and happily accepted my proposal. Life can't get any better. Currently, she still resides with her brother and aunt in a downtown apartment, but once I save enough money, we'll have a 'fairy-tale' wedding (as she so affectionately puts it) and move in together to start a new life as one.
She enlivens my days, that girl. I had spent so much time in life remaining indifferent to love and trying ever hard from falling too deeply for someone, but on the verge of losing her, I realized my nonchalance would only see me as a lonely, bitter man until death. True, love hurts...but the joys it brings with it are worth the trouble.
In a few weeks, Runner will ascend to my position as leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He's nervous as all hell, but I endlessly tell him that as long as he writes the lessons I've learned on the tablet of his heart, he'll make a great leader. I truly believe this. As a Conlon, he naturally has wonderful potential, but he owes much of his passion to his youthfulness (for the young are known for their zeal) and to his high spirits.
I'm briefly reminded of the time shortly before the summer of 1899 when Runner and one of his younger companions approached me with a cane in hand and passed the object over to me with the utmost reverence. When I arched my eyebrows in question, the smaller of the two-who happened to be one of my half pints-said:
"Everyone in New York's talkin' 'bout ya, Spot! Brooky's is stopped in the streets every day and asked 'bout Spot Conlon. Youse is a legend!"
Runner nodded with a grin. "Yea, youse is more than just a leadah now, Spot. You're a damn god!" He shoved his hands down his pant pockets a bit bashfully and diverted his gaze to the hard wooding of the docks. "And well...since we'se all consider ya a king, we thought youse should have a scepter of some sort."
With a smirk, I examined the cane, much honored by their thoughtfulness. It was a fine make, with a polished black shaft and a tip that glimmered like a nugget of gold. I would always carry the cane with me thereafter to remind me of how my boys looked up to me, and of how I needed to conduct myself reasonably if only for that reason. And now I twirl it in my hands, my soul feeling torn by the decision I've made to step down from my ranks.
As I write the last words of this entry, I feel a part of me is being left behind here in Brooklyn. The history of my leadership will ever be remembered in the minds of my newsies, but what of those who are born generations from now? Decades past, will people still talk about the great Spot Conlon and how all of New York revered him like a king? Will people still talk about how Brooklyn came to Manhattan's aid during the 1899 Newsboy Strike, and how eventually we showed the nation that underdogs can still win when the deck's been rigged? Will anyone remember my newsies, those who often proved to be enigmatic and troubled souls, those who made Brooklyn the mystery it still is?
They say legends can stretch over vast lengths of times...but can't they still fade? A century from now, will I be remembered as a wrathful tyrant whom everyone despised, or a gracious leader who cared for every single one of his charges? Will I be remembered as one whom everyone avoided, or as one from whom my friends extracted patience, wisdom, courage, and the feel of family?
Let us hope that my impact on history will be smiled upon, and that history etches out my life as one that touched and inspired the lives of many.
~*~*~*~*~