But then we learned of the price hike for both the World and the Journal. Now, instead of fifty cents per hundred, it was sixty cents per hundred. We'd more than likely starve to death at that price and, as it was, we were already pretty close to starvation with the old price—I'd only be able to get about forty-five papes—not even close to enough to get food. I'd never get out of New York—none of us would. I grimaced as Henry asked, "What is we gonna do, Jack?"
He shrugged and I asked, "Jack, counting the other boroughs, how many newsies are there?"
"Close to ten thousand," Davey answered.
"Then we go on strike," Jack caught up to my plans immediately.
"Spread the word to the other newsies, immediately," I added. "It's our day!" I finished, raising my voice so the others could clearly hear me.
Jack sprang to his feet and called, "Pulitzer and Hearst—they think we're nothin'. Are we nothin'?"
"No!" we yelled.
"Pulitzer and Hearst—they think they got us. Do they got us?" Jack demanded.
"No!" we yelled, more forcefully.
"Though we ain't got hats or badges, we're a union just by saying so and the World will know!" Jack declared.
"What's it gonna take to stop the wagons? Are we ready?" Jack asked.
"Yeah!" we cheered.
"What's it gonna take to stop the scabbers? Can we do it?" Jack asked.
"Yeah!" we all cheered again.
"We'll do what we gotta do until we break the will of mighty Bill and Joe!" I yelled.
"And the World will know! And the Journal too!" everyone called.
Jack and I cupped our hands around our mouths and, turning toward the distribution office, called, "Mister Hearst and Pulitzer—have we got news for you!"
We all called, "See the World don't know, but they're gonna pay! 'Stead of hawkin' headlines we'll be makin' 'em today!"
Specs yelled, "And our ranks will grow..."
"And we'll kick their rear," Crutchie added.
"And the World will know that we been here!" we all chorused.
I asked, "When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it?"
"No!" everyone yelled.
"What if the Delanceys come out swinging? Will we hear it!" I demanded.
"No!" everyone screamed.
"When you got a hundred voices singing, who can hear a lousy whistle blow?" we asked each other.
We all exchanged glances. We would rebel until we got our rights back. "And the world will know that this ain't no game, that we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim. So they gave their word, well, it ain't worth beans. Now they're gonna see what "Stop The Presses" really means. And the old will weep and go back to sleep. And we've got no choice but to see it through!"
"And we found our voice!" Romeo called.
"And I lost my shoe!" Henry added.
We called, "And the World will... Yeah!"
Jack yelled, "Pulitzer may own the World but he don't own us!"
"Pulitzer may own the World but he don't own us!" we echoed.
"Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won't whip us!" I called.
"Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won't whip us!" everyone else echoed.
"And the World will know! We've been keeping score! We've been down too long and we paid our dues! Either they gives us our rights or we gives them a war! And the things we do today will be tomorrow's news! And the die is cast and the torch is passed! And a roar will rise from the streets below! And our ranks will grow and grow and grow and so the World feel the fire and finally know!" we all called.
"Pulitzer may own the World but he don't own us!" the majority of the Newsies called.
"Pulitzer may own the World but he don't own us!" Jack and I echoed.
"Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won't whip us!" the majority of the Newsies called.
"Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won't whip us!" Jack and I echoed.
"So the World says 'No!' Well, the kids do too! Try to walk all over us—we'll stomp all over you!" We chorused.
"Can they kick us out? Take away our vote?" Crutchie demanded.
We all looked at each other and then continued, "Will we let 'em stuff this crock of garbage down our throat? No! Every day we wait is a day we lose and this ain't for fun and it ain't for show and we'll fight 'em toe to toe to toe and, Joe, your World will feel the fire and finally, finally know!"
Then a female reporter arrived and said, "I'm Katherine Plumber of the New York Sun. I'd like to cover the strike."
I nodded and shook hands with her, confirming our alliance against Joe.