The Son....
December 24th, 1899
"Jack you sure you don't want to skip out on the evening post and just come have dinner with my family?" David Jacobs asked for the fifth time. Jack smiled at his friend and threw his arm over the walking mouth's shoulders.
"Davy, I appreciate the offer really but I got to make a few more cents for the evening and I got plans." Jack rolled his eyes repeating the same answer he had given the first few times David had asked him.
"But Jack you can come and see the tree that Pa actually got this year! And Sarah will make one of her sweet pies." Les said dreamily tugging at his hero.
Before Jack had a moment to answer though a snowball came hurtling at the back of his head.
"Hey cowboy!" Blink's voice taunted as the blond boy ducked behind the Horace Greenly statue.
"Coward!" Jack hollered at him as he bent down to collect ice into his hand. Throwing snowballs in the cold winter of the city without gloves was an undesirable task but Jack couldn't let his honor go so easily. Elbowing David and giving him a nod to play along Jack's booming voice rang out.
"Check out that looker over there Dave, she's just about as pretty as the mayor's daughter."
"The cherry head over there?" David laughed knowing that Kid Blink had a soft spot for red hair.
Blink peeked out just enough behind the statue for Jack to clobber him with his perfect snowball. The tall newsie leader rolled his hands together immediately after hurling the snowball and blew what little hot air he could manage to warm them back up again. The warmth wouldn't last him long though as Blink chucked another ball of ice that hit his leader square in the jaw.
"That's how you want to play," Jack growled as he scooped up more snow. In moments the distribution square looked as if a snowstorm had settled directly over the newsboys of The World.
"We'll see you tomorrow!" David shouted at Jack grabbing Les and hurrying away from the crossfire. As the chiming bell of the selling dock sounded signaling the evening paper was off the presses the snow settled calmly over everything. Jack shivered as he shook the ice out of his long brown hair.
"Jacky boy has got good aim, maybe he's learning something from all those Wild West stories he reads." Racetrack mocked helping Jack shake out the snow with his hand. When the slightly colder but more satisfied leader stood back up Skittery handed him a lit cigarette.
"A smoke to warm you up?" He offered.
"Thanks Skitts." Jack greedily took the burning stick and puffed away regaining the little warmth he had before the snowy battle. Shuffling his feet to come face to face with an older man that didn't engage as much as Weasel had before him. Jack slammed enough money on the counter for 25 papers.
"Merry Christmas." Jack sighed as he finished counting his stack and skipping down the steps.
"Hey Jack you gonna disappear again tonight?" Crutchy demanded from further down the line.
"I'll be back sometime tomorrow morning." Jack nodded smiling.
"You going to stay with the Jacobs?" Racetrack laughed mischievously as he picked up his papers.
"About as much as youse spending it with the horses, Race." Jack shook his head laughing. It was a well-known fact that though Racetrack would love nothing better than to spend Christmas Day at the tracks they were closed during the winter months. Jack dragged his feet in the dirty snow of the streets moving to stand outside of a prestigious looking bank to wait for his customers. He tapped his feet maintaining movement to maintain his body warmth as he pursued the merchandise he was selling this evening. The end of December meant a variety of things in the city; mostly it was the usual recap of the year and celebration of the holidays. This year that idea was magnified as the 19th century was coming to a close.
At sixteen, Jack Kelly had already re-invented himself once. The young man had taken his life into his own hands and created a new world to live in. He smiled thinking about how well he had accomplished this feat and how his world had almost collapsed this year. 1899 had brought the leader of the Manhattan newsboys his greatest battles and his greatest triumphs. He had no idea what his future would bring in, at the turn of the century, nor did he waste too much time thinking about it. One day at a time, one edition at a time almost, that was the life of a newsboy living on the streets of the vast growing city of New York.
The oil street lamps had been turned on and Jack was resisting the temptation to lean against the frozen metal. He didn't have to stand on the corner long before the businessmen started walking out and purchasing their penny papers. As a crisp wind blew through the narrow street Jack pulled up his tattered red scarf over his ears. He jingled the pennies in his pocket, calculating how much he could spare for a cup of coffee before heading towards Brooklyn. Pushing his chin into his chest and trying to blow warm air into his shirt, Jack Kelly didn't notice where the black boots came from.
"Happy Christmas young fellow." An older voice brimming with an unrecognizable joy snapped Jack out of his planning.
"Sir," Jack stuttered being caught off guard by so many things. The businessman, as Jack assumed he must be, was standing unusually close to the newsboy. The man was dressed in a long overcoat and a cherry red scarf that didn't seem fashionable at all.
"Are you selling the evening paper there, son?" The older gentlemen pointed down to the last paper that Jack was clutching. Jack nodded starring oddly at the man's jovial round face and snow-white beard.
"Yes sir, penny a pape?" Jack held out the crumpled up paper without removing his gaze from the man's face.
"Ah yes, respectable paper is it?" The man nodded leaning down to place a bag near Jack's feet as he searched his pockets for money.
'Yes sir." Jack stuttered again. The man pulled out a quarter and handed it to Jack. Fishing into his pocket for his change the older man shook his head.
"No, no. Keep the change young man." The man insisted.
"But you only bought one pape," Jack frowned as he pulled out his handful of pennies.
"Well I was wondering if you might do me a favor in exchange? You see I'm running terribly late already." The man turned his round face to look skyward as the stars were starting to twinkle above them.
"Favor?" Jack said suspiciously, he knew this man was too generous.
"This bag," The man pointed. "Are a few items for the orphans at St. Mary's and I wanted them to get there tonight."
"St. Mary's, the Catholic Church?" Jack responded shocked.
"Yes that's the one, are you familiar with it?" The man smiled knowingly. Jack just nodded.
"Well then might you deliver these items to them? There is a wrapped item that is for the most charming young lady I've ever met. If you can just ensure that it gets to her as well? We can consider ourselves even?" The man held out his hand for Jack to shake.
"Yes sir. Of course." Jack nodded shaking the man's hand in a stunned trance.
"I commit you to God, may he send you a Merry Christmas." The man's eyes twinkled under the street lamp.
"You too sir," Jack smiled warmly and bent down to pick up the bag but once he stood back up the street was empty. Feeling a strange sensation of calm and inner warmth after the meeting, Jack carried the bag as he jogged towards his point of meeting.
Spot Conlon didn't look forward to many things in his life. Anticipation was expectation and both lead to being sorely disappointed on a regular basis. But there was something about Christmas that the tough Brooklyn leader couldn't shake. Even his newsies had pointed out that their leader was in an unusually good mood this morning. December was a cold month, which made it harder on boys of the streets than other months. Not to mention the sad memories that stirred whenever Spot saw snow. But Christmas Eve was the only night of the year that Spot Conlon had a past, a family, and above all a warm loving moment.
His step had a skip in it as he wandered the familiar path to his childhood neighborhood. He found himself reflecting on the year that had just passed, knowing that tonight was a beginning and an ending. Spot Conlon had achieved the impossible feat of organizing the toughest newsboys of the city the previous year. And this year the boy king had helped his oldest friend take down a tyrant; Joseph Pulitzer himself had bent to the will of street kids of New York. As he walked down a dark alleyway he smiled at the hopeful children pressed against windows. His blue eyes scanned the skies with the children of the buildings around him, looking for some faint sign of old St. Nick. He laughed as he thought he heard a faint jingling of bells.
"What are you laughing at Conlon?" The steam escaped Jack's mouth giving him away as the dark figure against the wall.
"Your ugly face Kelly," Spot spit into his hand and held it out to the taller boy. They hastily shook hands, Jack taking out a match before even asking if Spot would like a smoke. Lighting two sticks, Jack handed off one to Spot as he began puffing his for warmth. Smoking was not only a newsie nervous habit but also one of the main ways the boys maintained their warmth in the winter. Smoking together in a silent conversation is where Shandley and Sister Cecilia found their two lost boys.
"What an abhorrent habit you boys picked up smoking like chimney pipes in the city of London." Sister Cecilia waved at them to put out the cigarettes and the boys just smiled. Shandley stepped forward boldly. The sleeping babe of the Christmas Eve of 1889 had transformed over the years. She no longer had pudgy hands or dimpled cheeks. Instead Shandley had stretched out to be slender with long legs and long arms and her complexion had stayed the butter cream white of the Irish with sprinkled freckles along her cheeks and arms. Her white blond hair had never gotten any darker and still curled like it had when she was a toddler. The eleven year old stood tall enough to reach Spot Conlon's chin and her green eyes were looking straight at the boys.
"Sister Cecilia where is Shandley this evening?" Spot mocked looking over the girl standing in front of him. Shandley twirled dramatically once sending the pleats of her low-waist dress flying up over her knees.
"It can't possibly be this creature in front of us, she's far to big." Jack laughed as he threw his flickering cigarette bud to the ground. Shandley stuck out her tongue and stomped one of her petite feet over Jack Kelly's large toe.
"No it's definitely not Shandley Callaghan acting so naughty on Christmas Eve, of all nights." Spot mocked.
"Boys stop teasing her." Sister Cecilia laughed reaching out to hug the tough looking leader of Brooklyn.
"Santa Claus?" Shandley finally spoke to Jack the same first two words she always said to him.
"Nope, remember he doesn't come to see me." Jack bent down wrap his arms around her tiny waist. Swinging the little girl around once before putting her down to free his arms to hug Sister Cecilia. Jack was now taller than his guardian and his muscular arms enclosed the little nun in a way that was reminiscent of her holding him when he was just a boy.
"You know that St. Nick usually comes at night and yet you always ask if he's seen us before or after mass. I think you suspect he doesn't visit us." Spot poked at Shandley's side playfully.
"I'm still sure that one day you both will get off the naughty list." Shandley smiled as she pulled out three toffee pieces from her pocket. "Until then…"
Spot reached out his hand to pick up his piece first when Sister Cecilia smacked it away. Jack stifled a laugh at the all mighty Brooklyn being denied anything within his grasp. Avoiding the glare that Conlon was sending him Jack bent down to pick up the mysterious package he had been paid to deliver.
"Not before mass. Shandley you should know better." The nun pushed her children forward and into the church and out of the cold as people started trickling in.
"A man gave me this to deliver Sister Cecilia for the orphans. Where should I leave it during the service?" Jack looked around him for a place he might store the package.
"Give it here I will put it in Father O'Reilly's office, maybe he can hear your confessions after mass." Sister Cecilia took the package as she pointedly suggested the boys contrite for their sins of the year.
"Is it true that you lead the strike?" Shandley asked Jack happily bouncing on her toes.
"Well Spot helped." Jack laughed.
"Are boys still using those new names, whoever heard of naming yourselves. With such strong faithful names like Francis and Patrick to change them," Sister Cecilia mumbled as she scurried out of the dark office. Before anymore conversation could take place though the church bells started ringing. Shandley and Sister Cecilia moved towards the front of the church as Jack and Spot hung towards the back hoping not to be recognized by the community of churchgoers that had come over with their families' years ago.
Jack and Spot sat at the back of the church starring at Father O'Reilly's back. The boys listened to the familiar hum of the Latin mass recognizing phrases from the servers every so often.
"Et cum spiritu tuo." Echoed through the church as Jack started focusing on the flickering flames of the candles. While Spot was discreetly moving his lips softly humming prayers, the only thing his mother had ever been able to teach him.
"We keep Catherine Sullivan…" Father O'Reilly's voice brought Jack's attention back to the altar and proceedings of the mass. The homily had started and the old priest knowing the lost sons of two of his deceased parishioners were hiding in the back had made sure to mention their souls in his prayers.
"And Grace Conlon." Spot smiled remembering where he would sit in the church with his mother. Spot remembered crawling under the pews and could hear his father's laughter mixing in with the familiar telling of the nativity from Father O'Reilly. The Latin chanting of earlier in the evening was suddenly explained, not that the boys weren't familiar with the story. Jack watched Sister Cecilia take in a deep breath her body settling into a reverent calm as the angel came upon Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus.
"And the angel said unto them. Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people." Father O'Reilly explained to his flock. And so the celebration of devotion continued as a living memory of everything from a past life for both legendry leaders of street kids. It wasn't that Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon were extremely devout by any standard, quite the contrary, the boys might be considered closer to heathens than Catholics. But though their daily lives were full of fistfights and shouted lies but boys knew that even the heroes of the bible had lived harsh times and hope was always present. The fact was that they had always attended this mass; this service was like their Christmas tree, a celebration of the holiday more than anything else.
As Father O'Reilly walked pass the back pew the old Irish man winked at the two boys with a smile. The priest was proud of them, the boys had left their little community of hardships and made a name for themselves and helped others. Father O'Reilly had read the papers during the strike and laughed at the images of little Francis Sullivan with a big mouth and bigger heart. Or of the description of the spunky Patrick Conlon with an iron fist and piercing stare that could make the greatest men crumble.
Spot settled his hat back on as the mass ended pushing his blond hair underneath the rim. Jack had moved towards the candles already and lifted one to light another.
"God bless her. I know she's watching over you." Sister Cecilia had appeared next to him, her cloth covered head leaning against the boy's shoulder. Jack's smile was reflected in the stain glass he stood in front of as he nodded. Spot had moved to another table of candles and was lighting his quietly when Shandley slipped her hand into his. The little girl didn't say a word but squeezed her soft child fingers around his rough hand.
"No more sadness this is a time for celebration, come! Come, young heroes I must hear about your year!" Father O'Reilly had clasped his hands together and the sound rang through the empty church.
"I have saved some warm dinner for you boys over at the orphanage." Sister Cecilia ushered Jack towards the entrance of the church. While Shandley pulled Spot away from the candles, Spot teasingly pulling her towards him not allowing her much success in moving him.
"The package sister," Jack reminded her. As the nun scrambled into the room where she had left the package, Father O'Reilly placed his arms paternally around both boys' shoulders as he ushered them into the snow. Shandley skipped around letting her shoes imprint onto the shoe.
Father O'Reilly had taken a particular interest in the two newsboys the previous year. There was something about their gumption that attracted the old man. He believed that the boys were carrying out the true American dream of working their way up. And he was truly touched by their insistence to visit their past once a year on such a holy night as Christmas Eve. Being the Irish man that he was, he of course attributed the boys working spirit to the fact that they came from Kilkenny County.
After only moments in the harsh icy cold of the city's winter night, the little group found themselves in a warm kitchen. Sister Cecilia placed the package that Jack had carried from Manhattan near the door.
"Some tea then Francis? Patrick?" Sister Cecilia asked as she hovered over the stove.
"Jack and Spot, Sister?" Jack pointed at himself and Spot trying to emphasize his point. The nun's refusal to acknowledge the boys new lives was frustrating to say the least.
"The new names stuck then?" Father O'Reilly laughed delightedly. "They are like all the great men of the bible Sister, once they found their new calling they took on new names to reflect their new lives with God!"
"They had good saint names to begin with and if anything I think the boys have moved further away from God." Sister Cecilia grumbled annoyed.
"It's a present for me!" Shandley squealed delighted having peaked into the package that Jack had brought with him. All the older eyes in the room turned to stare at her surprised.
"A present for me!" Shandley lifted a flatly wrapped object that had a note attached.
To a little girl with the unwavering belief in Santa Claus, Merry Christmas Young Shandley.
Jack blinked as the Shandley shoved it in his face. Spot's eyes read over Jack's shoulder and smiled.
"Speaking of Santa Claus, where is my piece of toffee?" Spot held out his hand out demandingly.
"What were you doing snooping over there Miss Shandley? How rude of you." Sister Cecilia shook her head placing the teacups in front of her boys.
"I thought there might be something in there for you, the older gentleman mentioned there being something for a charming young lady. You were the rascal that came to mind." Jack took his piece of toffee before Spot could steal a second piece.
"May I open it! Please Sister Cecilia! It is Christmas already!" Shandley begged holding the object close to her chest lovingly. The lines around the woman's face creased forming a slight frown but before she could refuse Spot spoke up.
"I haven't seen anyone open a Christmas present in years." He commented slipping at his tea. No one but Jack caught the mischievous look of triumph that flickered in his features. Sister Cecilia's honey eyes widen and her mouth dropped open into a little "o" shape and she found herself nodding quickly.
Shandley scurried around Jack and squirmed her way to sit nicely between Spot and Jack at the little table. She set down the package adoringly in front of her on the table and carefully undid the string that was holding the paper together. In a nervous slowness, her delicate cream-colored hands unwrapped her gift from a mysterious benefactor. Five pair of eyes stared down at the table to find a book. The cover was a beige color with green holly bordering the large letters of the title and in red and green letters it read "A Visit from St. Nicholas."
"Look! Look! See Santa Claus has a book about him! He must exist!" Shandley pushed her shoulders into both Spot and Jack as she bounced back and forth between them. Spot rolled his eyes and Jack shook his head eyeing Sister Cecilia.
"Well a Saint Nicholas did exist." Father O'Reilly provided as the excited child opened the pages of the book as carefully as she could. Her green eyes read the words on the pages, as she entered a sort of trance.
"Story books aren't fact, maybe if it was in the paper," Jack suggested but Shandley didn't even look up from her book. Spot and Jack shrugged knowing that she would be consumed in her present for most of the night.
"So tell us about your year, what is this about a strike? Were you boys misbehaving?" Sister Cecilia asked as she placed two plates of warm food in front of the boys carefully before she sat down.
"Sister these aren't boys, they are young men! And they did a good thing!" Father O'Reilly boomed. So Jack and Spot went into the re-telling of their memorable year, interchanging from their different point of views. When Spot was talking Jack would look down at the page of Shandley's book and read the words. And when Jack was talking Spot would do the same, intrigued by what this story had to say.
"Who would name a reindeer dasher?" Spot frowned as he whispered the demand into the girl's ear.
"Who would name themselves Spot?" Shandley responded smartly. Jack laughed at the interchange and placed his arm around the girl's shoulders. Shandley rested her head on the side of Jack's torso, still holding her book reading the pages about how Christmas came to the family in the story. Spot reached out to pinch her nose but Shandley's hand stopped him and instead the girl brought his hand down to sit intertwined with hers on her lap.
"And still no word for your fathers?" Sister Cecilia asked ignoring their childish exchange.
"Pop's still in prison from all I know…" Jack sighed chewing with his mouth open.
"Unless you've heard something? I don't think he's ever coming back but who needs him." Spot murmured angrily. As the night hours passed, Father O'Reilly excused himself to sleep before his Christmas Day dawn mass. He wished the boys luck in their upcoming year before ducking out the kitchen door. Sister Cecilia was telling about Shandley's outstanding academic work when they noticed the child had fallen asleep.
"It's late Jacky Boy." Spot yawned noticing for the first time that evening that he was unbearably tired.
"We've over stayed our welcome." Jack nodded tucking his hands under the girl's knees. Spot grabbed the book from her lap so it wouldn't fall to the ground. He stared at the page that she was on, reading the description of St. Nick himself over the illustration of a pump jolly old fellow on the page.
"This is going to make her believe in this nonsense longer." Spot sighed. "Ain't she getting to old for this?"
"You should really tell her that the toffee is from you Sister, though" Jack nodded cradling her in his arms. His brown eyes wandered to the open page that Spot held. "That gentleman that gave me the package did look like, no that's impossible." Jack shook his head forcefully.
"Jack needs to sleep." Spot patted Jack on the shoulder, closing the book and placing it on the table.
"I think she knows boys. But something keeps her believing in the tale of Old St. Nick. I wouldn't take away that kind of faith from anyone." Sister Cecilia hugged Spot as she shook her head. Kissing Jack on the cheek she held out her arms to accept the sleeping Shandley Callaghan. It seemed that this was always the ending to the girl's meeting with the young Sullivan and Conlon, asleep in someone's arms.
As Sister was accepting her though Shandley clutched to Jack's shirt.
"You'll come back next year, you and Spot?" She whispered, with her eyes still closed.
"As long as Santa Claus keeps visiting you." Jack sighed. He was starting to worry that one-day they wouldn't be able to come, but there was no use worrying the girl.
"You'll see one day he'll visit you too. Maybe he just can't find you with your new names." Shandley yawned as she let go of Jack's shirt.
"Happy Birthday Shandley." Spot kissed the sleeping girl on the forehead.
"Happy Birthday and Good night." Jack patted her head and the boys adjusted their clothing to go back out into the cold of the night. The two old friends stepped out as the snow started falling and with a slight adjustment in their shoulders their whole world changed again. Sister Cecilia watched as the two happy young men that had been sitting in her kitchen returned to their cold harsh world. She watched them until they disappeared into the darkness, where she knew they would part ways and head back to their lodging houses alone. At least there was one night a year that they felt they could come home.
"And Merry Christmas to all…" Shandley whispered the words from her new book before closing her eyes and slipping into a deep sleep.