CHAPTER TWO

A leader is a dealer in hope.
- Napoleon Bonaparte

In every lodging house there was a leader. In Kloppman's, the boy to hold that title was Francis Sullivan, better known as Jack Kelly. A somewhat lanky figure at seventeen years old, Jack stood barely under six feet tall. While his greasy brown hair and overall dirty appearance fit in right with the other newsboys, his poise was the feature that set him apart from the crowd. Even at his young age, Jack knew how the city worked. He knew the streets, the people, and the art of conning his way out of trouble. In his lodging house, loyalty and friendship were the most important, and while these ideals weren't always followed, anyone with eyes could see the devotion these boys had to each other and their leader. Together they were a united, unbreakable team – apart they were a hungry pack of street urchins.

Jack's team included boys with names such as Skittery, Pie Eater, and Kid Blink. Each boy earned their nickname in accordance to the way they presented themselves, a hobby, or even a physical attribute that separated them from the rest. Snitch, for instance, was the best pickpocket this side of the Brooklyn Bridge, Swifty could outrun any bull, and Specs obviously wore glasses.

The boys ranged in age from four to twenty, those above that age usually graduated to jobs in the factory where the heavy atmosphere would eventually wear down their lungs and severely harm or kill them. Others went to work as apprentices in various shops around the city (if they were lucky), some traveled to different states or territories and worked on ranches, but the majority of the boys eventually died of disease or starvation.

The female street urchins of the city weren't allowed to live anywhere near the boys' houses. It wasn't proper for an unmarried girl or lady to be growing up in a home full of boys, and thus female boarding houses were constructed around the city. Housed in these establishments were girls that mostly worked in factories, dance halls, and less-than-respectable establishments. There were a few newsgirls in the pack, but most preferred a working environment that was predominantly female and migrated to the factory life.

Female boarding houses were lined without the pleasantries of a comfortable home. The walls were usually a drab brown, the painting job was never quite finished, the kitchen and dining area could barely hold a quarter of the lodgers, and the beds squeaked so much that if one dared move during the night, they were lucky if only three girls woke up. The lodging house was always too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, with never enough wood to keep a long-lasting fire.

The owner of such an establishment was usually a hardened old lady who answered to a landlord on the Upper East Side. It was rare to see the actual owner of the building visiting one of his profit machines. Instead, an assistant was assigned to visit weekly, picking up the rent monies that the lady collected from the overworked girls.

On the corner of Greenwich and Chamber streets, the owner of the boarding house was one Victoria Noble. While 'noble' she was not, Victoria ran the house like a true businesswoman. She always knew what was going on in her house, for she enlisted the help of several of the poorest girls living there, tempting them with lower rents if they ratted out any lodgers illegally staying under her roof.

A stout woman in her forties, Victoria's face was unforgiving and cold. Her eyes alone told any new lodger that if they crossed her, they'd see the door before the morning, and they'd feel the sharp pain of her broom on their backside while ushered out the door.

The building itself echoed the looks of its owner. Barely up to minimum city codes, the place desperately needed a facelift, including new paint, plumbing, and flooring, but it'd be years before anything would be done. There were four floors all together, each with just one washing room, consisting of two stalls and several bathtubs. Towels and soap were scarce, and if one brought their own supplies, they knew well enough to lock them in their trunk after each use, or they'd be "lost" by day's end. Once a tenement building, the upper three floors had all the walls (minus the washing room area) torn down, leaving no privacy for any girl. The first floor consisted of Victoria's rather large living quarters, a kitchen that could only provide food for a quarter of the lodgers at a time, a front desk where the girls were to sign in and pay their dues, and a living area that could fit a small group at a time. Nightly parlor games were played downstairs until 9pm, when the girls were expected to be in bed. The doors were consistently locked at 9, and any girl unfortunate enough to be left outside was out of luck.

Like the Newsboys' Lodging House, the girls' house had a leader. A proud, mother-like figure, Filly watched over the rest of the girls as best she could. Australian by birth, Filly was proud of her heritage and her people. She used her affiliation with the small town where she grew up to hide her past, spouting stories of great turmoil to the younger girls, thus directing their interest to something besides Filly's own personal experiences. She had few close friends in the boarding house and maintained that while she was looking after the girls, "the fewer the friends, the better. Lord knows they'll all want to befriend me just ta hear da latest house gossip!".

New York City was still growing at an astounding rate in the year 1900. Immigrants poured through Ellis Island by the thousands, and as such, the girls' boarding house had an array of ethnicities, backgrounds, stories, and personalities. It was a melting pot of girls and ladies, a history lesson spanning not only the globe, but generations. And it was all under one single roof. From the Irish, to the Germans, Russians, Australians, Native Americans, and everything in between; they could all be found on the corner of Greenwich and Chambers in Lower Manhattan.

Thanks to Relic, Bookie, Holiday, and Bon Bon for reviewing!