Chapter Seventeen: In Which the Phones are Ringing and the Newsies are Singing
Word count: 2,023
Manhattan, 1899
The phones were ringing off the hook.
They had been all morning, in fact. While Pulitzer stared dramatically into the distance probably thinking about how to reverse this problem he had undoubtedly caused, Hannah and Bunsen had to answer the phones with the same response every time: "Mr. Pulitzer's not available right now, he'll have to call you back!" It was tiresome.
If only someone had cautioned him against raising the prices, Hannah thought wryly as she sighed softly and moved to pick up the phone – again.
"Silence those phones!" shouted Pulitzer at last.
Bunsen rather clumsily hung his phone up, and Hannah did so with relief. The phones would likely continue ringing, but Pulitzer commanded their attention, which meant that Hannah wouldn't have to answer them.
"The entire city's gotta be on their phones!" exclaimed Bunsen, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. "Every line is full. No one is working anywhere and everyone's blaming you!"
"They're all calling," Hannah chimed in. "The mayor, the publishers, the manufacturers – and such language."
The people on the other side could have at least had the decency to watch their tongues when calling into a place of business. Imagine if she'd actually put Pulitzer on the line and he'd heard their incessant swearing! In reality, Hannah knew that if she'd put Pulitzer on the line, that swearing would have gotten a whole lot worse.
"The newsies have convinced so many people! And, like I said, you're the one being blamed here!"
"I shouldn't be. I taught those boys something they'd never learn elsewhere. They need to understand economics before they get older or they won't make it anywhere in life."
Hannah pretended to scribble something on her ever-present notepad, mostly to look like she was concentrated and not just annoyed. You haven't taught them anything but how to stand up to bullies like you, she thought bitterly. "That may be so, sir," she began, "but obviously they didn't take it so well. They've managed to convince most of the working kids of the city to go on strike."
"I am not to blame for this," Pulitzer insisted. He stood up. "It's the workers' own fault for trading in valuable time and money to go stand around in the sun, doing what? Shouting till their throats are raw, waving signs till their arms are sore? I had nothing to do with that choice."
Bunsen pointedly looked anywhere but Pulitzer, so Hannah stepped in again. "Sir, I understand that it isn't directly your fault." She took a deep breath, not knowing how her employer would react to the next part of her claim. "But, you have to admit, none of this would have happened, at least not so soon, if you hadn't raised the price of papers."
To Hannah's surprise (and relief), Pulitzer didn't fire her on the spot. In fact, he seemed to consider this. He opened his mouth to respond, but Seitz burst through the door, with Jack Kelly, union leader, right next to him.
"You can't just barge in here - "
"Mornin', gents!" the newsie exclaimed, slamming a paper onto Pulitzer's desk and evidently in a good mood.
"You're behind this," Pulitzer said. "We had a deal."
"And it came with a money back guarantee." Jack smirked and flipped the (untouched) wad of dollar bills onto Pulitzer's desk – then made himself comfortable on one of the chairs. "And I didn't forget your lesson on the powers of the press. Thank you for that, by the way."
Seitz snatched up the paper that the newsies had apparently produced and started skimming over it. Hannah read over his shoulder. For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughterhouse in this city, we beg you, join us.
"Have you read this, boss?" Seitz asked, then paused. "These kids put out a pretty good paper!"
"No doubt written by my daughter."
Right. Katherine Pulitzer. She had the opportunity to choose convenience, and she chose to work hard and pursue her own career. It was actually quite admirable.
"Uh, I would sign her before someone else does," Jack cut in, shrugging.
"I demand to know who defied my ban on printing strike material."
"Oh, well, we're your loyal employees. We'd never take our business elsewhere. We only used the best of the best, Joe."
There was silence as everyone processed this enigmatic statement, then Seitz said, "That old printing press in the cellar!"
"Ohhhh…" Hannah knew it had been a mistake to lock a little boy in a cellar – though for a different reason.
"I made you the offer of a lifetime. Anyone who does not act in his own self interest is a fool."
"What's that make you?" asked Jack's friend, who had apparently come in with him.
Pulitzer looked at him quizzically.
"This all started because you wanted to sell more papers. But now, your circulation is down by seventy percent. Why didn't you just come…talk to us?"
The boy made a point. Hannah remembered that day when her boss had just decided to charge the newsies extra, on only the supposition that they'd accept that change and even adore it so much they'd ask to pay more.
"Oh, 'cause guys like Joe don't talk to nobodies like us." Jack stood, looking more serious now. "But as a very wise reporter told me, bein' boss don't mean ya got all the answers. Nah. Just the smarts enough to snatch up the right one when ya hear it."
They all moved to the window. Hannah gasped quietly as she saw how many newsies there were outside, and she couldn't help but smile. They were all joined together and fighting in their own way. Who would have thought that the newsies, of all people, could be so powerful?
"Take a look out there, Mr. Pulitzer," said a short newsie in red and black. "In case you ain't figured it out, we got ya surrounded." They waved down at the newsies.
"New York is closed for business. Paralyzed. You can't get a paper or a shoe shine. Ya can't send a message, ride an elevator, or cross the Brooklyn bridge. You can't even get out of your own office. So what's your next move?" Jack stared Pulitzer down, his gaze unwavering and defiant.
Bunsen came back in (Hannah hadn't even noticed he'd left) running with more people behind him. "Mr. Pulitzer! Your daughter is here, along with the mayor and – oh! You won't believe who else!"
Indeed, the mayor strode casually in. "Mr. Pulitzer. I trust you know the governor? "
The governor?
The governor, Theodore Roosevelt, walked in alongside Katherine and the famous opener for the Bowery Beauties, Medda Larkin.
Hannah couldn't hide the grin on her face as Governor Roosevelt shook his head and smiled, then said to her boss:
"Joseph, Joseph, Joseph – what have you done now?"
"I'm certain when you hear my explanation - "
"Thanks to Miss Medda Larkin bringing your daughter to my office, I already have a thorough grasp on the situation – graphic illustrations included." He waved the container full of Jack's rolled up drawings.
Jack would have laughed at how nervous Pulitzer seemed in the presence of the governor if it weren't for how nervous he was himself. He met Katherine's eyes and gave her a small smile.
"'Bully' is the expression I usually employ to show approval." The governor walked up to Pulitzer and looked him in the eyes. "But in your case, I simply mean 'bully.'" He nodded at Jack, and then looked at Katherine and Medda. "And is this the boy of whom you spoke?" When Katherine nodded, he said, "How are you, son? I'm told we once shared a carriage ride!" He laughed heartily.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Governor," Jack managed to get out. Governor Roosevelt shook Jack's hand with an impossibly firm grip, then turned to Pulitzer.
"Well, come along, Joe. Don't just stand there letting those children sing...endlessly...give 'em the good news!"
"What good news?"
"That you've come to your senses and rolled back prices! Unless, of course, you want to invite a full senate investigation into your employment practices?"
"You wouldn't."
"After all the pressure you wielded to keep me from office, I'd do it with a smile!" The governor continued. If he was even the slightest bit put off by Pulitzer's icy stare, it didn't register in his expression. "Come along, Joseph. There's only one thing worse than a hard heart – and that's a soft head. And besides, think of the happiness you'll bring to those children!"
Pulitzer didn't respond.
"He doesn't do 'happiness,' does he?"
No, Governor, he does not.
Finally, Pulitzer spoke. "Mr. Kelly, if I may speak to you alone?"
One by one, everyone in the room (besides Pulitzer, of course) exited. Pulitzer's secretary clapped quietly for Jack as she left, and Governor Roosevelt put his hand on Jack's shoulder and whispered, "Keep your eyes on the stars and your feet on the ground. You can do this."
It was sort of encouraging, but it only all but calmed his nerves.
He was doing this for the newsies, he reminded himself. They were like family, and they didn't deserve this.
Pulitzer was silent for longer than was comfortable, so Jack looked around the office.
"I cannot put the price back where it was," he said finally. "I'm sorry, I can't. There are other things to consider."
"I get it, Joe. Ya gotta save face in fronta all the other folks. I'm young, I ain't stupid."
"Thank you for understa - "
"But I got constituents with a legitimate gripe!"
"What if I reduced the raise by half? And get the others to do the same? It's a compromise we can all live with!"
Is it, Joe? Pulitzer couldn't be talking about compromises that "everyone could live with" when the newsies could barely even live before he raised prices. "But you eat our losses. From now on, every pape we can't sell, you buy back, full price."
"That was never on the table! What's to keep the newsies from taking hundreds of papers they cannot sell? My costs would explode!"
He really didn't know anything about the newsies, did he? They took as many papes as they were comfortable with, and it was routine. With a decent selling spot and some basic truth-improving skills, a newsie could sell almost all of their papers by evening. Jack practically laughed in disbelief. "No newsie is gonna break his back haulin' around papes he can't sell! But if he can take a few extra with no risk, oh, he might sell them and then your circulation would begin to grow!" And, because he couldn't help himself, he mocked, "It's a compromise we can all live with."
Pulitzer was silent in cogitation. After a while he finally said, "That's not a bad head you've got on your shoulders."
"So do we have a deal?" Jack spit into his palm and held it out.
"That's disgusting."
"That's just the price of doin' business."
Pulitzer scrunched up his face, but reluctantly spit into his hand and shook Jack's.
It was a deal.
A/N: Hello! I'm sorry if this chapter makes it seem like I'm dragging these last few scenes out – I'm not trying to. The next section I wanted to write, though, wasn't turning out the way I wanted it to, so I figured instead of waiting longer, I'd just post that section as part of the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this one, and I'd love it if you could leave a review and let me know your thoughts!
-mouse :)