After that first conversation I made it my mission to get her talking. I have no idea why, but it seemed of vital importance that she open up a bit and that I be the one to draw her out. Mr. Fischer's back injury gave me the perfect excuse to come over to their bench each day to bring them a pape, and I found that he was much easier and more relaxed than his daughter. I used that to my advantage, getting to know him and trying to engage in three-way conversations with Katja. She seemed equally determined to try to talk, especially in front of her father. It seemed to take months, but in hindsight it was probably only a few weeks before she started to feel at ease around me.
I was enjoying myself far more than I should. I actually liked talking to Mr. Fischer more than I thought I would. When I was with the newsies, I had an image to maintain. I had to play dumb. The strong Brooklyn accent was native to me, but years of working the business district taught me proper English. Most of us can do it—play our accent to our audience—but I am especially good at it. It was fun meeting someone who saw through me, though. My first impression of Mr. Fischer was right—there was no pulling the wool over his eyes. The man was perceptive in an almost uncanny way. Now, I can read people, but Mr. Fischer? He put me to shame. He was also smart. He read the paper every day, and I knew he kept a book on his carriage for times between fares.
That was a welcome change. The newsies read the papes so we can sell 'em, but most of the boys don't give a shit about what's actually going on. Can't say I blame 'em. The government doesn't exactly care much for a bunch of street urchins; we make our own way, and if they leave us alone, we're generally pretty happy. But I also know that those of us newsies who are involved in the running of things in the borough are the ones who get what we want. The other guys just complain. I guess governments are kind of the same way, so you could say I've always had a passing interest in politics.
Mr. Fischer and I talked a lot about the war. He seemed to enjoy talking about it. Katja joined us, and while she was mildly interested and certainly capable of conversing intelligently, her passions lay elsewhere. I watched her dote on the horse, and she loved anything related to travel. I started pointing out the articles they might like. I learned years ago to speed read; it just came naturally to me, and it helps me come up with headlines. Reading is actually a secret vice of mine—not that any of the boys knew it. I've read everything we have at the lodging house, which isn't much. Though honestly these days, with the summer dock wars, a poker tournament almost every weekend, and the general restlessness of the last few weeks, I haven't had much time for it.
It was nice talking with the Fischers every day. I tried hard never to overstay my welcome, but I admit that it almost felt, for those few minutes each day, like I had a sort of father figure in my life. It's hard to say it when you're as independent as I've become over the years, but I enjoyed having someone there for me. Katja was quickly becoming a friend, but Mr. Fischer was becoming the father I never had. It was frustrating that just as I was getting to know them, they began withdrawing. Apparently Mrs. Fischer had taken ill. She came out once or twice that summer, so I did meet her, but I didn't really get to know her.
It was also welcome break from running Brooklyn, that's for sure. I was always having to look out for the younger boys, so I had actually made it a rule that littler guys had to be paired up with bigger boys. It actually worked well; sales improved with the boys playing off each other, and there were fewer scrapes with the local bootblacks, messengers, and other street kids. The boys spent more time trying to catch fish in the fountains and other, more frivolous activities. I did most of the fighting—at least back in those early days—for the whole group. It worked well.
We also developed rules around manners and schooling. Those boys who didn't attend school in the mornings had to attend lodging house lessons in the evenings. Women were to be treated respectfully, and money had to be saved for winter lodging. Loyalty was paramount. I even allowed Johnny and Rut back to sell with us, but both had moved on. Better that way, I figured. The boys came to trust my judgment and leadership, and I was becoming comfortable with the role. All in all the summer was nice, and by early fall I was feeling pretty good about life.