Chapter4- way of the fourth and profit
Note: I checked it out. Apparently, Chinatown was around at the time. The lower east side was a melting pot for all ethnic backgrounds. happy! Heeheehee!!!
fourth lee's name is used without his permission. :)
It was decided that for a dry-run, pagan would team up with fourth and race would team up with profit. If that went well, their partnership would be sealed. Word would be spread among the newsies in manhattan about pagan's new alliance before the "crossover". fourth would also take care of business inside the arch. Each team-up would orient the other about his territories, and at the same time, compare notes on selling techniques. Racetrack looked forward to selling with profit. And besides, fourth made him a bit nervous. Kinda reminds me'a spot, he thought. fourth was like a Chinese spot conlon, except that he wasn't strictly a newsie.
Among the manhattan newsies, jack Kelly was considered the best. Most of them learned all about being a newsie from him. Learn from jack, learn from the best, it's been said. Jack's style was a mixture of honest-to-goodness hard work with a little bit of improvisation. Cowboy always did like to pretend.
Profit on the other hand, although this being his first time selling papes, was a fast learner. He liked to pretend as well, but his idea of "improving the truth" was exploiting his ethnicity and wringing it for what it was worth. Sort of like their old friend crutchy, jack's former bunkmate. A real crip, he played it up to his advantage and worried all the time about whether he was being out-cripped by the fake cripples. Profit had no such worries.
Racetrack stepped back to watch the kid in action as he sold his first batch of papes. " foist t'ing ya gotta loin," racetrack said, reciting the newsie credo: " headlines don't sell papes. Newsies sell papes."
Profit perused the headline and wrinkled his nose. " damn right," he muttered.
Profit was a good actor, too. He was great. He played up his being Chinese so much, racetrack sometimes had to bite into his hat to keep from laughing.
"bes' pwice on'y po' you!" profit would say, waving his pape at any unsuspecting prospective client. He conveniently slipped into extreme oriental mode and pretended not to understand any English. " a vely vely goot mo'nin to you too, sah!" he would say, bowing in "gratitude", before speeding off without even returning change.
Back in Chinatown, fourth lee was busy showing pagan around and teaching her the ropes. He showed her where the new york world would sell like hotcakes, and she showed her where locals papes were preferred. More importantly, he showed her where to get the best food and shed some light on possibly the weirdest Chinatown myth of all. Meow burgers, fourth called it, made from what else? Well it ain't cow, that's for sure.
"see this street," fourth said, maneuvering his way towards a row of hardware stores. " Ise wanna show youse someti'n. it's peaceful, harmonious competition. No client stealin'." A group of men stood around talking in one corner, and that's when fourth steered her clear. "but, best if we avoid those guys," he said, crouching low.
"why?" pagan asked. " who are they?"
"ever heard of the tong wars?" fourth said. " big t'ing happened sometime last year. Majah gang war. I ain't seen no one that crossed them that got out of here alive."
" I prefer not to associate with them altogether," fourth said. " a little protection is one thing, but when you spend the rest of your life owing some dragon for their so called protection, bye-bye freedom." He looked at her pointedly. " so don't evah try screwin' around wit' 'em, y'heah?"
"how would I screw wit' dem?" pagan asked.
Fourth put a hand on her shoulder. " you never go to them for any favors."
The red light district. Fourth was friendly with the red lotus girls. His ex-girlfriend had been a red lotus before getting mixed up with the dragons.
The red lotus was a run-down building, much like kloppman's lodging house, except here, rooms were rented out not by the day, but by the hour. It was run by an aging transsexual named madame Vivienne. Not many of the girls could read or speak in English, so pagan decided it might be worth spending time to teach them the language through the papes she sold madame Vivienne, who, pagan was almost sure, miss medda larkson would adore.
For a whorehouse, it wasn't a bad place, really. The girls were taken care of, were provided shelter and clothing and were given a meal allowance. Most of them were quite shy and sweet, unlike most girls around that area. Blink would like it here, pagan thought. So would skittery, actually.
"please teach us to talk English," one of them, a girl who went by the name ming-na said to pagan haltingly.
"I will," pagan said. If it gets youse outta here, so help me god, I will.
Racetrack couldn't help himself- he had to bring profit to the races. He needed profit's expert opinion.
"and you never won a bet in your entire life?" profit was saying to race as they entered the tracks. The boy whistled incredulously at the most pathetic better he has ever met.
"got a hot tip on mary queen'a scots right dere!" racetrack said, pointing towards an old filly who was struggling to keep up with the rest of the horses on the track.
"what, youse nuts, race?" profit snorted, putting his feet up on the seats. " she ain't gonna win, not by a longshot, sorry tah disappoint yah."
Here it comes, racetrack thought. For years he had wondered why the horses he bet on never won.
"how can yah tell?"
" I can see why from wheah we's at," profit said. " lookit her mout' f'god's sake!" he shook his head. "dat horse ain't well."
Racetrack squinted and tried to see what profit saw from a mile away.
"she's foamin' at da mout'," profit explained patiently.
"so?" race said. "dat's normal, ain't it?"
"it's normal a'right if youse ain't feedin' her propah!" profit said. "what dey feedin' dem horses here, race?" he shook his head. "yah wastin' yah goddamn money."
"Ise aware," race replied. "so uh.. who should I bet on next?"
Racetrack and profit made their way back to Chinatown. They had a considerable amount of money, but the splitting of profits would be done when pagan and fourth joined them. Taking another route back to the arch, racetrack looked around and noticed that they were passing by a different route than the one he and pagan used when she brought him there the day before.
"you never been to Chinatown before?" profit asked race as race walked double time to keep up with the tall boy.
"never seen it up close til yestaday" race said, not wanting to show his ignorance to profit. That would be showing a weakness, and race wasn't about to do that.
"so, uh" profit said, a small grin playing at the side of his mouth. " you never knew before dat my people and yaw people are actually, how shall I say… neighbors?"
racetrack looked around, disoriented. He knew the place they were passing though, but felt displaced because they had taken a different route. Profit was smiling at him, waiting for race to figure it out for himself. And that's when it clicked into place. He knew why the place was so disorientingly familiar.
Chinatown was right next door to little italy.
Note: I checked it out. Apparently, Chinatown was around at the time. The lower east side was a melting pot for all ethnic backgrounds. happy! Heeheehee!!!
fourth lee's name is used without his permission. :)
It was decided that for a dry-run, pagan would team up with fourth and race would team up with profit. If that went well, their partnership would be sealed. Word would be spread among the newsies in manhattan about pagan's new alliance before the "crossover". fourth would also take care of business inside the arch. Each team-up would orient the other about his territories, and at the same time, compare notes on selling techniques. Racetrack looked forward to selling with profit. And besides, fourth made him a bit nervous. Kinda reminds me'a spot, he thought. fourth was like a Chinese spot conlon, except that he wasn't strictly a newsie.
Among the manhattan newsies, jack Kelly was considered the best. Most of them learned all about being a newsie from him. Learn from jack, learn from the best, it's been said. Jack's style was a mixture of honest-to-goodness hard work with a little bit of improvisation. Cowboy always did like to pretend.
Profit on the other hand, although this being his first time selling papes, was a fast learner. He liked to pretend as well, but his idea of "improving the truth" was exploiting his ethnicity and wringing it for what it was worth. Sort of like their old friend crutchy, jack's former bunkmate. A real crip, he played it up to his advantage and worried all the time about whether he was being out-cripped by the fake cripples. Profit had no such worries.
Racetrack stepped back to watch the kid in action as he sold his first batch of papes. " foist t'ing ya gotta loin," racetrack said, reciting the newsie credo: " headlines don't sell papes. Newsies sell papes."
Profit perused the headline and wrinkled his nose. " damn right," he muttered.
Profit was a good actor, too. He was great. He played up his being Chinese so much, racetrack sometimes had to bite into his hat to keep from laughing.
"bes' pwice on'y po' you!" profit would say, waving his pape at any unsuspecting prospective client. He conveniently slipped into extreme oriental mode and pretended not to understand any English. " a vely vely goot mo'nin to you too, sah!" he would say, bowing in "gratitude", before speeding off without even returning change.
Back in Chinatown, fourth lee was busy showing pagan around and teaching her the ropes. He showed her where the new york world would sell like hotcakes, and she showed her where locals papes were preferred. More importantly, he showed her where to get the best food and shed some light on possibly the weirdest Chinatown myth of all. Meow burgers, fourth called it, made from what else? Well it ain't cow, that's for sure.
"see this street," fourth said, maneuvering his way towards a row of hardware stores. " Ise wanna show youse someti'n. it's peaceful, harmonious competition. No client stealin'." A group of men stood around talking in one corner, and that's when fourth steered her clear. "but, best if we avoid those guys," he said, crouching low.
"why?" pagan asked. " who are they?"
"ever heard of the tong wars?" fourth said. " big t'ing happened sometime last year. Majah gang war. I ain't seen no one that crossed them that got out of here alive."
" I prefer not to associate with them altogether," fourth said. " a little protection is one thing, but when you spend the rest of your life owing some dragon for their so called protection, bye-bye freedom." He looked at her pointedly. " so don't evah try screwin' around wit' 'em, y'heah?"
"how would I screw wit' dem?" pagan asked.
Fourth put a hand on her shoulder. " you never go to them for any favors."
The red light district. Fourth was friendly with the red lotus girls. His ex-girlfriend had been a red lotus before getting mixed up with the dragons.
The red lotus was a run-down building, much like kloppman's lodging house, except here, rooms were rented out not by the day, but by the hour. It was run by an aging transsexual named madame Vivienne. Not many of the girls could read or speak in English, so pagan decided it might be worth spending time to teach them the language through the papes she sold madame Vivienne, who, pagan was almost sure, miss medda larkson would adore.
For a whorehouse, it wasn't a bad place, really. The girls were taken care of, were provided shelter and clothing and were given a meal allowance. Most of them were quite shy and sweet, unlike most girls around that area. Blink would like it here, pagan thought. So would skittery, actually.
"please teach us to talk English," one of them, a girl who went by the name ming-na said to pagan haltingly.
"I will," pagan said. If it gets youse outta here, so help me god, I will.
Racetrack couldn't help himself- he had to bring profit to the races. He needed profit's expert opinion.
"and you never won a bet in your entire life?" profit was saying to race as they entered the tracks. The boy whistled incredulously at the most pathetic better he has ever met.
"got a hot tip on mary queen'a scots right dere!" racetrack said, pointing towards an old filly who was struggling to keep up with the rest of the horses on the track.
"what, youse nuts, race?" profit snorted, putting his feet up on the seats. " she ain't gonna win, not by a longshot, sorry tah disappoint yah."
Here it comes, racetrack thought. For years he had wondered why the horses he bet on never won.
"how can yah tell?"
" I can see why from wheah we's at," profit said. " lookit her mout' f'god's sake!" he shook his head. "dat horse ain't well."
Racetrack squinted and tried to see what profit saw from a mile away.
"she's foamin' at da mout'," profit explained patiently.
"so?" race said. "dat's normal, ain't it?"
"it's normal a'right if youse ain't feedin' her propah!" profit said. "what dey feedin' dem horses here, race?" he shook his head. "yah wastin' yah goddamn money."
"Ise aware," race replied. "so uh.. who should I bet on next?"
Racetrack and profit made their way back to Chinatown. They had a considerable amount of money, but the splitting of profits would be done when pagan and fourth joined them. Taking another route back to the arch, racetrack looked around and noticed that they were passing by a different route than the one he and pagan used when she brought him there the day before.
"you never been to Chinatown before?" profit asked race as race walked double time to keep up with the tall boy.
"never seen it up close til yestaday" race said, not wanting to show his ignorance to profit. That would be showing a weakness, and race wasn't about to do that.
"so, uh" profit said, a small grin playing at the side of his mouth. " you never knew before dat my people and yaw people are actually, how shall I say… neighbors?"
racetrack looked around, disoriented. He knew the place they were passing though, but felt displaced because they had taken a different route. Profit was smiling at him, waiting for race to figure it out for himself. And that's when it clicked into place. He knew why the place was so disorientingly familiar.
Chinatown was right next door to little italy.