Yay! Lida's finally posted another chapter! Sorry I've been slacking, readers, but senior year's a big, ugly, bitch!
Note: A good bit of this chapter is dialogue from the movie, therefore, I did not say who said what, I figured y'all would know the lines anyway.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sneaks poked her head through the door to make sure we were up. "Saaaay," she smiled, "Dem clothes look pretty sharp." She opened the door wider and called, "Hey, Ladies, dese goils got demselves some good lookin' rags." I smiled and smoothed my new mulberry skirt as Tooey, Trolley, and Boxie joined her at the door.
Ducky cut through the bunch, "Lemme see ya." Jazz, Cracker, and I quickly lined up, shoulder to shoulder. She paced back and forth in front of us, much like a drill sergeant, inspecting our new attire. She tugged the collar of Jazz's pink blouse and checked the hem of her long black skirt. She did the same to Cracker's dark green skirt and white blouse, nodding her approval. My white blouse received a few tugs, and when she examined my hem, she noticed my new white silk stockings. "These are nice."
"Thanks, I always wanted a pair."
"I'm impressed." Mrs. Nolan called ten 'til eight from the foot of the stairs. "Bettah move out, goils," Ducky grinned and winked as she turned and headed out of the bunkroom.
"Ready?" Jazz rooted through her marble bag for yesterday's earnings, "Let's sell some papes."
"Not quite," Cracker was still lacing up her boots. She hurriedly brushed her hair. While she was doing that, I brushed my teeth and dabbed a little lavender water on my neck. I put down the bottle and surveyed the room filled with our newly acquired belongings. The amount of money we spent last night… "Ok. I'm good to go."
"Me too," I grabbed a handful of change and led them out the door.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mush and Itey were waiting outside for us. Puck, Riley, and Tooey saw us all together and giggled when they walked by. We'll hear about this tonight. Cracker, Mush and I chatted while Jazz and Itey strolled ahead of us, arm in arm, glancing back every now and then to make sure we weren't listening in on them. We ran into Jack, David and Les about two blocks away. Mush introduced us and Jack grinned.
"Call me Cowboy. So you three's da goils put ol' Oscar in his place," he shook his head and chuckled, "Wish I'd seen it. I ain't evah been around when a goil's put 'im down."
The eight of us arrived at the distribution center together. David read the huge chalkboard outside the gates, "'Bloody Beatings In Trolley Strike'. That's a good one, just like you said, Jack."
"Yeah, think I'm gonna buy a hundred an' fifty today. How 'bout it, Dave, ya gonna get more'n twenty?"
"Sure. Maybe I'll try fifty."
Les tugged excitedly on his brother's sleeve, "We could sell way more than fifty! Let's buy a hundred." We entered the gates and saw all the newsies standing in groups talking amongst themselves.
"Hold on there, kid," Jack scanned the crowd, "Don't look like nobody's buyin' any papes. Hey fellas, what's goin' on? Why ain't ya got no papes?"
"Dey jacked up da price," Blink huffed disgustedly, "Ya hear dat, Jack? Ten cents a hundred!" Jack licked his lips and took in the information. Mush went and talked to Crutchy, while Itey, David, and Les joined the other newsboys. Jazz, Cracker, and I stood next to Jack. "Ya know, it's bad enough we gotta eat what we don't sell. Now dey jacked up da price! Can you belie' dat?" All through Blink's little rant, Oscar stood in the window behind him, flailing his arms and making faces. It seemed like only us girls noticed, and Jazz finally had enough. She picked up a rock and threw it as hard as she could. It just missed his head and hit the wood frame to his left. He scowled and shut the window as Jack began to snicker. None of the other newsies noticed.
"This'll bust me. I'm barely makin' a livin' right now."
"I'll be back sleepin' on the streets."
"It don't make no sense," Mush looked at Crutchy and walked over to me. He leaned his arm on my shoulder and continued, "I mean, all the money Pulitzer's makin'- why would he gouge us?" I shrugged. Stingy jackass.
"'Cause he's a tightwad, dat's why."
"So why da jack up, Weasel?"
"Why not? It's a nice day." Oscar and Morris sneered at Jack as he turned away. Jazz picked up another rock, but Cracker grabbed her arm before she could throw it. "Why don't ya ask Mister Pulitzer?"
"Dey can't do dis to me, Jack."
"Dey can do whatever dey want, it's their stinkin' paper," Race puffed furiously on his unlit cigar.
"It ain't fair. We got no rights at all."
"C'mon. It's a rigged deck. Dey got all da marbles, ok."
"Jack, we got no choice. So let's get our lousy papes while dey still got some, eh," Mush started up the steps to the window but Jack pushed him back. He came and put his arm back on my shoulder.
"No! Nobody's goin' anywhere! Dey can't get away wit dis."
I was suddenly inspired, "He's right! We can't let them do this to us. We've gotta fight." Jazz and Cracker looked at me like I was nuts. Mush stepped away from me.
"What can we do Lida? Dey control da papes," he looked down and kicked his feet in the dust, "I mean, it's only a dime. It can't be as bad as we all think." He glanced at Blink.
Blink shook his head, "How we gonna fight, Rosie?"
"I don't know. I just know we have to."
Race paced for a few seconds and stopped in front of me, "Look, Sweetheart, I don't know how it works wherever you're from, but around here, da big shots run da papes. An' if Pulitzer an' Hearst want another ten cents, dey're gonna get it. It's only a dime anyways."
"But it's ten whole cents! If that dime is so important to them, the millionaires, what does it mean to you? You guys depend on the money you make selling papers. It keeps your families fed and gets you off the streets. Don't tell me it's just a dime- if the rich guys need it, so do you."
"Smart broad," Race smiled and turned to Jack, "So what we gonna do?"
"Clear out. Clear out. Give him some room. Give him some room. Let him think!"
We all stared at Jack as Blink handed him a cigarette. He took a few puffs, enjoying the attention. 'Jack, ya done thinkin' yet?"
"Hey! Hey! Hey! 'World' employees only on dis side o' da gate!" A general chorus of 'Oh shut up' and other such comments rose from our group. We settled down and Jack spoke.
"Listen, one thing for sure, if we don't sell papes, den nobody sells papes. Nobody comes through dose gates 'til dey put da price back where it was," he winked at me, "We want dat dime back."
"What do you mean," David finally spoke up, "like a strike?"
Jack looked up at me and mouthed, "Is it?" I nodded and he turned to David, "Yeah, like a strike."
"What? Are you outta your mind?"
Cracker wheeled on Race, "We can do it!"
"Jack, I was just joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union."
"If we go on strike, then we are a union, right?"
"No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money. Maybe if we got every newsie in New York, but-"
"But we can organize and make a union," Cracker was on a roll, "We'll get all the boroughs together and strike!"
"Yeah, well, we organize. Crutchy, you take up a collection."
"Swell," Crutchy whipped off his hat, "C'mon guys, we're a union." I put all the change I had with me in. Crutchy grinned, "Thanks, Lida."
"We'll get all da newsies in New York together."
David looked at me and hissed, "What did you do that for?" He faced the newsboys again, "Jack, this isn't a joke. Jack, you saw what happened to those trolley workers."
"Dat's another good idea. Any newsie don't join wit us, den we bust their heads like da trolley workers." David whined about rushing into things and Jack reminded us all of the powerful men we were going up against. Then he said, "Are we just gonna take what dey give us, or are we gonna strike?"
"STRIKE!" But that wasn't Les' war cry, that "strike" belonged to Jazz. David shot her a look that would strike fear into the heart of Darth Vader.
"Keep talkin', Jack. Tell us what ta do."
"You tell us what ta do, Dave, Lida."
"Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights."
"All right. Hey listen, Pulitzer an' Hearst hafta respect da rights o' da workin' boys o' New York," the newsies cheered, "Dat's right! Well dat worked pretty good." He turned to me, "So what else?"
I sighed, "Tell 'em that they can't treat us like we don't exist."
"Pulitzer an' Hearst, dey think we're nothin'. Are we nothin'?"
"NO!"
"If we stick together like the trolley workers then they can't break us up."
"Pulitzer an' Hearst, dey think dey got us. Do dey got us?"
"NO!"
I hollered up at Jack, "We're a union now, the Newsboy's Union. We have to start acting like a union."
"Even though we ain't got hats or badges, we're a union just by sayin' so. And The World will know!"
"What's to stop someone else from sellin' our papes?"
"We'll talk wit 'em"
"Some of 'em don't hear so good."
"Well, then we'll soak 'em!"
"No! We can't beat up kids in the street, it'll give us a bad name!"
"Can't get any worse."
"What's it gonna take ta stop da wagons? Are we ready?"
"YEAH!"
"What's it gonna take ta stop da scabbers? Can we do it?"
"YEAH!"
"We'll do what we gotta do until we break da will o' mighty Bill an' Joe."
"And The World will know. And The Journal too. Mister Hearst an' Pulitzer, have we got news for you! Now the world will hear what we got ta say. We been hawkin' headlines, but we're makin' 'em today. And our ranks will grow."
"An' we'll kick their rear!"
"And the world will know dat we been here."
"When da circulation bell starts ringin', will we hear it?"
"NO!"
"What if da Delanceys come out swingin'? Will we hear it?"
"NO! When ya got a hundred voices singin', who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And The World will know that this ain't no game, that we got a ton o' rotten fruit and perfect aim. So they gave their word, but it ain't worth beans. Now they're gonna see what "stop da presses" really means. And the day has come, and the time is now, and the fear is gone."
"And our name is mud."
"And the strike is on."
"And I can't stand blood!"
"And the world will know..."
"Pulitzer may own The World but he don't own us!"
"Pulitzer may own The World but he don't own us!"
"Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won't whip us!"
"Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won't whip us!"
"And the world will know and the world will learn. And the world will wonder how we made the tables turn. And the world will see that we had to choose, that the things we do today will be tomorrow's news. And the old will fall, and the young stand tall. And the time is now, and the winds will blow, and our ranks will grow, and grow, and so the world will feel the fire and finally know!"
We all cheered as Jack wrote "strike" across the headline board, and began recruiting ambassadors. Messengers to all the boroughs and neighborhoods were dispatched, and Jack was left with Brooklyn. "Uh, so what about Brooklyn? Who wants Brooklyn? C'mon, Spot Conlon's territory."
I raised my hand, "We'll take Brooklyn."
"Ok. Anybody else? C'mon, ya gonna let a bunch a goils do 'stead o' you? What's da matter, ya scared o' Brooklyn? Y'all are gonna let goils show ya up?"
"Hey we ain't scared o' Brooklyn," Boots tried to look tough, "Spot Conlon makes us a little nervous."
"Well, he don't make me nervous. So you an' me, Boots, we'll go ta Brooklyn wit da goils. An' Dave can keep us company. Right, Dave?" David made Jack take our demands to Pulitzer and Denton came over and introduced himself. After a brief discussion of David and Goliath, we went to Tibby's where Denton treated us to lunch. Jazz decided to stay in Newspaper Row with Itey, and the rest of us were off to Brooklyn.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick." Wow, Spot is mighty good looking in person.
"So ya moved up in da world, Spot. Got a river view an' evr'ything."
"An' who are these pretty little skirts ya got wit ya," Spot jumped down onto the dock and looked us over, "goin' inta ya own business?"
He did NOT just call us whores! I stepped forward, ready to give him the beating of his life, but Jack put his arm out and stopped me. "Nope, just some friends o' mine," he smiled good-naturedly, "Dis is Lida Rose an' Crackah."
Spot smirked and spit into his hand. Jack followed suit and they shook. "Hey, Boots, how's it rollin'?"
"Hey, I got a couple o' real good shooters here."
"Yeah," Spot took the green marble from Boots' outstretched hand and held it up into the sunlight, "So, uh, Jacky boy, I been hearin' things from little boids," he aimed his slingshot, "Things from Harlem, Queens," he shot, "all over. They're chirpin' in my ear. 'Jacky boy's newsies is playin' like they'se goin on strike.'"
"Yeah, well, we are."
"We're not playin'. We are goin' on strike."
"Oh yeah," Spot got up in David's face, "Yeah? What is dis, Jacky boy, some kinda walkin' mouth?"
"Yeah, it's a mouth. A mouth wit a brain, an' if you got half o' one you'll listen ta what he's got ta say. Go on, tell 'im," Jack nudged David. He just stood there like an idiot, jaw dropped, staring at Spot. Please, he's not that intimidating.
"David," Cracker hissed, "don't just stand there. Tell him." He didn't move. She pushed him out of the way, "Well we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So we've been talking to other newsies all around the city."
"Yeah, so they told me," he crossed his arms and leaned back against the pole behind him. A tall, lanky, very handsome newsie, who'd been watching from behind the pole, stepped closer. Spot continued, "But what did dey tell you?"
"They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon does, that you're the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere."
I jumped onto the Spot bandwagon, "And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they'll join, and we'll be unstoppable."
"So ya gotta join us," David finally recovered, "Because, well, ya gotta." Jack grinned. He was glad he brought us girls along.
"Well you're right, Jack, brains. All of 'em. But I got brains too, an' more than just half o' one," he turned towards me and Cracker and pulled out his cane, "How do I know you punks won't run the first time some goon comes at ya wit a club?" He faced Jack again, "How do I know you got what it takes ta win?"
"'Cause I'm tellin' ya Spot."
"Dat ain't good enough, Jacky boy. Ya gotta show me."
By this point in time, I had already decided that Spot Conlon was a prick. As he stared us down, I charged him, "Oh, well show you, but will you be there to see it? How do we know you and your boys won't bail on us?"
He chuckled and backed away from me, "You must not be from around here, or you'd o' knowed not ta say dat ta me," he glanced over at Jack, "Where's dis broad from?"
"Someplace in Pennsylvania," Jack answered casually,. "Dese two an' another goil dat came wit 'em, Jazz."
"So you goils is from Pennsylvania, huh? Where at?"
"Central," I answered, "I grew up on a farm. Jazz and Cracker's fathers work in an iron mill." Where the hell'd that come from?
"Hayseed, huh? Shoulda guessed," he looked me over again, "you look pretty tough for a goil."
Cracker scoffed, "Wouldn't you like to know."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jazz and the guys were all waiting for us back at the Horace Greeley statue. Actually, they were shooting dice with Race, but they were all there.
"Jack, so, uh, where's Spot, huh?"
"Oh, he was concerned about us bein' serious. Can you imagine dat?"
"Well, ya know, Jack, maybe we should ease off a little, ya know?"
"Wit out Spot an' da others, there's not enough of us, Jack."
Maybe we're movin' too soon. Maybe we ain't ready, ya know?"
"I definitely think we should forget about it for a little while."
"Oh, do you?"
"Yeah, I mean, wit out Brooklyn ya know..."
"Hey, who we kiddin' here? Spot was right. Is it just as game ta you guys?"
The newsies insisted that they were serious about the strike, and Jack seemed reassured. I suddenly got the feeling that something needed to happen. For a moment I stood in agony, knowing that I had to do something, but not having the slightest clue what that something was. Then I did it.
"Open the gates and seize the day…" I was singing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, I sure hope you liked it! I'll try to get back on track with this and keep more chapters coming, but as I said, senior year's a bitch.
Please R&R, reviews are like watching Newsies with your squeeze! But no flames, they're like having the DVD player crap out on you and skip randomly...