Author's Note: Well here it is- my first Newsies fic. This is "The Spoon River Anthology" (it's a collection of poems, like epitaphs, monologues, each named after and dedicated to the life and death of an inhabitant of Spoon River Iowa at the turn of the century. It's by Edgar Lee Masters and I suggest that everyone read it). Except instead of the Spoon River Anthology, this is the newsboy's anthology. It's just the beginning, I plan to add more newsies to this list. Feel free to contribute- look over what I've got here and email me.
Jack Kelly
I never got a chance to get to Santa Fe
But Sarah always told me we'd get there
Someday
You know the way that works
My real name is Francis
Named after some saint or something
Imagine that…
Me a saint.
Sarah Jacobs-Kelly
I don't know why my parents let me marry him
Thought it was cute the way he looked at me
It was joy at first
And then the love settled into
Lilted amusement
All I wanted was to make him happy
Our kids
Our vows
This is it.
Racetrack
Every day since I was nine
I spent my days wasting my money on
Big dumb sweaty animals
I loved it
I stopped peddling papes
And left New York entirely
Bent on purchasing a winner
Years later I came back
Got to watch the kiddies
Most of them don't even know me
And I ain't a hero
But ain't never anybody got my goat
I ain't never had a goat to get
Kid Blink
I only got one eye
The other one fell out somewhere
But I can't remember too good
But since it was missing I got a patch
Don't figure anybody'd want to see a big hole in my face
But there was always that part of me people never saw
David Jacobs
I died
They always told me I was invincible
But I died too, just like everybody here
It's amazing we're even in a cemetary
Jack… Jack what are you doing there?
Get up get up!
Time to carry the banner, eh?
Mush
Do the nuns still give the newsies bread
every morning as the sun rises over the Atlantic?
Now where are we Jack?
What you gave us…
Made it seem like we'd be newsies forever.
But that wasn't so, was it Davy?
Boots? Specs? Race?
One by one…
I watched you all slip forever into these cursed craters…
Just one question
Why'd I hafta die last?
Brian Denton
My life was always characterized by something about society
Wouldn't you say- passer by?
I know what you're thinking… standing over this stone like that…
You're thinking that your man Denton's led a good life
And now he's somewhere else, happy.
Well… I'm not happy kid.
And I'm here still
Watching my kingdom pass me by.
Morris Delancy
So what I couldn't count?
Oscar Delancy
Why the newsies picked on me
I never figured it out.
I just wanted to make a buck
Just like Jack.
Boots
I was lynched in Georgia
In nineteen twenty nine
There was never a time
When I didn't remember
My days as a newsie
Back in Manhattan
But now there's better
Stories in the news
And headlines aren't
Such a hard-sell
I don't think that anybody
From New York
Read my obituary
Crutchy
It never bothered me when they said I was a gimp
Cripple doesn't hurt.
Look at me here- leg all healed up.
That's what death does to you.
But where have I got to walk?
This is where I belong… here in the clover
With the rest of the boys.
We breathe all the same,
If you could imagine such a thing.
Spot Conlon
Oh I was the Mercutio of the newsie business
Murdered just the same
By time
In Brooklyn, the old ones maybe remember
But, they never come over the bridge
Oh look, this cane, that hat
Those strong eyes, growing these daisies…
What's it feel like to be a legend?
Not much. Not much.