Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.


Chapter 11: Front Page News

"Miss Plumber, there's a call for you - a Hannah Blumberg from The World."

Katherine looked up in surprise to see Jenny, one of the secretaries, standing in front of her desk expectantly. "She says that it's urgent," the young woman added.

Worriedly, Katherine set aside the notes that she'd been jotting down and rose from her desk, following Jenny over to the telephone that sat on the secretary's desk. Jenny gave her the handset, then courteously stepped away to give her some privacy.

Trying to keep her voice level, Katherine spoke into the receiver. "Hannah?" she said tersely. "It's Katherine."

"Kathy, I'm sorry to bother you at work," came the older woman's voice. "I know you don't like us calling you at the office, but I've got something to tell you that can't wait. It might be a breaking story, even!"

Belatedly wishing that she'd thought to bring her notepad, Katherine snatched a pencil and a scrap of paper from Jenny's desk. "What is it?" she asked excitedly, trying to keep her voice level.

"Well, just a few minutes ago, I went downstairs to receive the mail," Hannah said. "When I got there, the constable informed me that a group of children had just tried to force their way into the offices and had been kicked out, but I could hear them pounding on the doors outside, so I ran upstairs to look out of the window. It was a group of newsies, Kathy, all riled up and carrying on!"

"Newsies?" Katherine asked. "The ones who sell The World?"

"I'm almost sure of it," Hannah answered. "Mr. Wiesel from the distribution center called over not long after that reporting that the boys had refused to purchase the morning's papers in protest of the price increase."

"A protest against The World?" Katherine repeated, hurriedly jotting down notes.

Now this was a story.

"Hannah," she asked quickly, "are the newsboys still demonstrating outside?"

"No," came the disappointing answer. "I don't know where they went - it was all over so fast - but if you're looking to find them, I'd check around the distribution center first. Maybe someone there will have a tip off; it can't be that hard to spot a group this large, especially when they're trying to be noticed."

"Thank you, Hannah," Katherine said, hoping that the other woman could hear the gratitude in her voice. "It's a great lead, and I'll get on it right away."

Saying a quick goodbye, she hung up the phone and hurried back to her desk to collect her notepad and pen, then hurried downstairs, out of the building, and down the street towards the distribution center. After walking for several blocks and failing to see a single newsboy, Katherine's excitement grew. Something was going on - something big - hopefully the big story that she'd been so desperately waiting for.

If she could find the newsies first and get the scoop on their protest before the reporters from The Sun's competitors did, she could be the one to break this thing wide open and maybe catapult her career to the next level in the process, permanently leaving the social pages behind. Katherine smiled, quickening her pace as the distribution center came into view.

It was shaping up to be a red-letter day, thanks to her father's saint of a secretary.


Davey quaffed his glass of water, letting the lukewarm liquid slake his thirst. He couldn't remember the last time he'd raised his voice so much, and he was thankful to have a reprieve from all of the impassioned shouting.

As exhilarating as it had been to storm the gates of The World, the results had been less than what he'd hoped for. There had been no audience with Pulitzer, no opportunity for appeal, and no negotiations. Davey's optimism that perhaps the issue of the price increase could have been solved by a reasonable conversation had all but disappeared when he, Jack, and Les had been thrown out of The World without so much as a "by your leave."

...which brought them to where they were now, sitting clustered around a group of tables in Jacobi's Deli with the rest of the newsies, still full of excitement and righteous indignation, but without a concrete plan for what to do next.

They would have to see the strike through, that much was clear. Now that The World was aware of their protest, it was unlikely that the newsboys would be able to catch them off guard again to force another entrance. They would just have to find a way to make their voices impossible to ignore.

They'd certainly made an impression already, though, and that much was worthy of celebrating.

Taking another sip of water, Davey cleared his throat and announced brightly, "I'd say we launched our strike in a most auspicious manner!"

Bewildered silence greeted his declaration.

"Ain't so sure about that," one newsie said finally after no one else seemed to know how to answer, "...but we sure gave Weasel and the Delanceys the surprise of the century!"

The rest of the boys began laughing and joking until Jack, clearly intent on keeping his easily-distracted troop from degenerating into complete hilarity, jumped onto one of the tables to catch their attention. "Alright, alright, keep it together," he chided good-naturedly. "We still got work to do. What's next, huh?" he asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Davey set down his glass of water. "The best thing to do would be to gather reinforcements from the city's other boroughs." They had to keep their momentum going while the newspaper owners were still off-balance. Fortifying their ranks with the newsboys from the other areas of the city would be pivotal so that when their opponents did recover sufficiently to counterattack, they would find themselves up against a much larger army than they'd initially encountered.

"You heard Davey!" Jack affirmed, sounding pleased at the suggestion. "Let's get the word out!

The newsies eagerly began volunteering to visit the different territories, with Jack assigning some of the districts that hadn't been picked up. All progressed quickly and efficiently...until he came to Brooklyn.

"Oh c'mon...none of you sorry bummers is gonna take on Brooklyn?" Jack scowled at the rest of the boys who were suddenly and studiously avoiding eye contact. He looked around the group, picking out the first newsie to flinch. "Hey Finchy, you tellin' me you's scared of Spot Conlon's turf?"

"I ain't scared!" the singled-out Finch retorted hotly. "Just a little...jittery." Mutters of agreement were heard all around, and Jack threw his hands up in disgust.

"Fine," he declared. "Me and Davey will take Brooklyn!"

"Me?" Davey exclaimed. "No, find someone else! I'm not going to - "

"Why does Brooklyn have you all so jumpy?" came a curious voice from the back of the deli.

All eyes turned towards the newcomer as she confidently made her way to the center of the group. She was a young woman with a pen and a pad of paper in her hand, well-off by the looks of it, and she was wearing one of the most eager smiles that Davey had seen in a while.

"What are you doin' here?" Jack asked, clearly caught off guard. He jumped down from his perch on the table, regarding the woman with what looked like a mixture of wariness and fascination. "How'd you find us, huh? You trackin' me or somethin'?" He ducked down behind Davey's chair.

The woman rolled her eyes at Jack's dramatics. "A witness at the distribution center tipped me off, and I'm a reporter, remember? The only thing I follow are stories." Glancing around the group of boys, she continued, "A scrappy group of ragamuffins is going up against the big shots of New York City." A laugh suddenly bubbled up, as though someone had just told her a particularly amusing joke, and Davey found himself huffing in irritation as she added patronizingly, "Do you actually think you have a chance?"

"'Scuse me for askin,' but ain't you supposed to be at the ballet?" Jack asked, his condescending tone making it clear that he was ready to fight fire with fire.

"Oh, did I confuse you there?" the reporter smirked, as though talking to a ten-year-old. "Let me simplify my question for you." She paused, then said slowly and deliberately, "Do you really think New York's big shots will bother to notice a group of boys who haven't got a nickel to their names?"

"Hey!" Crutchie broke in, catching everyone off-guard with his vigorous response. "That's insultin', and it ain't right. I got a nickel."

Surprisingly, it was his heated and straightforward response that sobered her up a bit.

"Well, I suppose instead you could call yourselves a group of Davids poised to take on Goliath," she amended, adjusting her description of the newsboys to a much less derogatory metaphor as she scribbled something down on her notepad.

"We wouldn't call ourselves that." Davey stood, reluctantly breaking into the conversation. Jack didn't seem to be interested in doing anything more than trade insults, but someone really ought to address this self-assured reporter before her conjectures got too out of hand. The sooner someone set the record straight, the sooner she could be on her way and out of their business.

She looked up at Davey, giving him the same indulgent smile that she'd flashed at the others. "You wouldn't have to," she said, returning to her scribbling. "I'd do it for you."

"Hey, what's your name, huh?" Jack broke in before Davey could say anything more.

"Katherine," she answered. "Katherine Plumber."

"You know, Plumber…" Jack sauntered towards her, "I've seen a lot of papes in my day, but I ain't never noted no girl reporters writin' serious stories like ours."

There was a brief flash of irritation in her eyes. "Well, catch up to the times," she retorted, finally looking up from her notepad. "Everything's changing. Now…" she spread her arms wide, her smile once again returning, "what about an exclusive interview for The Sun?"

"Ain't this a little bit outside of your field of expertise? You's in entertainment, ain'tcha?"

Jack's parade of deflecting questions puzzled Davey. Wasn't it obvious that this woman - Katherine - only dug her heels in further the more you attempted to belittle her?

"I'd call this plenty entertaining," she quipped, raising an eyebrow at Jack in challenge.

Hold on a minute. Were they...flirting? Davey didn't consider himself to be an expert when it came to these kinds of things, but there was something intense and charged about the way they were sizing each other up that made him think that coming to a reasonable and efficient end to this conversation really wasn't the top priority in either of their minds.

"When's the last time you wrote hard news?" Jack asked, taking a few steps towards Katherine until he was uncomfortably close.

"When's the last time you led a strike?" she shot back, leaning in so that her face was only inches away from his own.

They were definitely flirting, Davey concluded. He fought the impulse to roll his eyes in frustration. Whatever Jack's connection was to this reporter, it wasn't really the time or place for this kind of banter. They had the strike to think about, after all, and time was wasting.

Reluctantly, he interjected once again.

"I think we'll save any exclusive interview for a real reporter." It was a calm and matter-of-fact statement, but it succeeded in pulling Katherine away from her showdown with Jack.

"Do you really think there's any other reporter in this city who will care what you have to say?" she demanded, whipping around to look Davey in the eye.

He returned her stare without flinching. If the confrontation only moments before had been an arch exchange between two sparring partners intent on riling each other up, this stare-down was the calculated appraisal of two strategists trying to determine how to out-maneuver the other (but Katherine wouldn't find Davey nearly so easily distracted as Jack).

She was bluffing. Davey was almost certain of it. If the strike was really so insignificant that no one else would bother trying to cover it, why would she be so insistent on securing an interview, especially an exclusive one? She was desperate to break open the story, that much was clear - no manner of condescension on her part could hide the fact that she needed them to cooperate with her.

Could news exposure help advance the cause of the strike? Davey had never considered it before, but it made sense. More publicity could only help them, especially if it was written from a sympathetic point of view. Perhaps they should take Katherine up on her offer; they had the upper hand in this case, and while her patronizing attitude had not indicated her support of their cause per se, it had indicated at least an undeniable level of interest. If the newsies could negotiate for a compelling portrayal of their cause, this could turn out to be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Words - words were always the key, weren't they? Davey mused. The right words could have the city on their side in days, hours even. Could they trust this reporter to be their voice?

Katherine was the first to look away.

"All right," she admitted, breaking eye contact with Davey, "I'll come clean - I'm still a new reporter looking for my big break." She turned towards Jack again. "But if you give me a chance and let me run with it, I promise I'll get you in the paper. A story like this should be on the front page."

So, she had been bluffing, Davey thought, pleased with himself. They weren't just a bunch of nobodies that the newspapers wouldn't care to bother with; they were front page news!

He hid a grin.

"You want our story?" Jack asked.

Katherine nodded.

"Then come to the circulation gate tomorrow mornin'!" the newsie leader declared. "And make sure to bring your camera!"

The excitement in the room was palpable as the newsies talked excitedly amongst themselves at the prospect of getting their picture in the papes, and even Mr. Jacobi's appearance and instructions to vacate the premises did nothing to quell their growing enthusiasm.

"You's gonna be beggin' us to stay once we's famous and get our pics in the papes!" Race declared as he thumbed his nose cheekily at Mr. Jacobi.

The rest of the newsies cheered in agreement as they filed out of the deli, and this time Davey allowed himself to smile.


Sadie tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as she climbed the stairs to her family's apartment. The trip to the confectionery had turned into an extended shopping trip, as Margaret's parents would be throwing her a birthday party in a few days, and they'd needed her to pick up some supplies.

After dropping Abby off at a friend's house where she would be staying for dinner, Sadie had hastily made her way back to the tenement, a bit flushed and wind-blown from all of the hurried walking that she'd done that day. She would be just a few minutes late to dinner herself, and while her mother would probably understand, especially since Sadie had brought back a bag of Lilly's favorite candies, she'd already been tardy enough for one day.

As she stepped onto the landing, Sadie saw with surprise that there was someone standing just a ways down the hall from the Becker apartment, leaning against the wall and with his head down, clearly lost in thought.

"Davey?" Sadie peered at him curiously as she approached. "Is something wrong?"

He started a bit, straightening up and adjusting the cap on his head before answering her question.

"No - no, nothing's wrong," he said quickly. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure I caught you before you went to dinner." He paused, looking a bit distracted, and Sadie wondered if the newsboys' protest had not gone as he'd expected.

"I won't be able to come by for tutoring tonight," Davey finally continued, shaking his head a bit as if to clear his thoughts. "I'm really sorry, but something happened today. The newspaper owners raised the price of papers for the newsboys, and...well...we went on strike."

The words came out slowly, as though he was still trying to process it all.

"We're going to try to rally the newsies in the other neighborhoods to our cause," Davey added, "and we have to get to them as soon as we can, so I need to go to Brooklyn. I don't know how late I'll be back." He ducked his head. "I know I said I'd come over to the office tonight, and I don't usually break my promises...but I really have to do this. I'm sorry, Sadie."

He gave her a regretful look, and Sadie found herself readily forgiving him, even if she wasn't going to let him see how easily she'd been won over.

"Fine," she answered. "But you owe me, Davey Jacobs."

She stepped past him, walked down the hall, and was about to open the door to her family's apartment, when he said hesitantly, "If we're keeping score...I did save you from falling that one time with the paint."

She glanced back in surprise as he added, "Shouldn't that count for something?"

So, he was actually bantering back! Sadie hid a smile, curious to see if he would keep up his mild resistance.

"Well, you got a new shirt out of it," she said.

"Because my favorite one got ruined," came his rebuttal.

"I am sorry that I ruined your favorite shirt. It was completely unintentional. But in my defense, I didn't force you to catch me."

A smile grew on Davey's face. "I don't recall forcing you to tutor me, either."

The smile caught Sadie off guard, and she huffed, abandoning their exchange.

"Davey, I paid attention in class all morning, took detailed notes, and told Margaret that I couldn't go over to visit her tonight because I had to review the lesson before teaching it to you!" she groused, wanting him to hear at least a little bit of the inconvenience that he had caused her if he was going to be audacious enough to make jokes about it.

His smile slipped. "You did?"

"Yes, Davey, I did. In case you haven't noticed, these things don't come naturally to me like they do to you." Seeing the guilty look on his face, Sadie raised her chin imperiously. "So I do believe this puts you in debt for bailing on me tonight." Before he could say anything, she added, "I'll figure out how you can make it up to me later...but I promise that it will involve you doing something ridiculous."

"Wait, but - Sadie, that's not fair!" Davey protested.

She shrugged indifferently. "You're the one who's backing out on me. Don't worry - it won't be something outlandishly ridiculous - just moderately so."

"That's not very reassuring," Davey muttered.

"Well, maybe you should have thought of the consequences before canceling tonight," Sadie said playfully, having entirely too much fun watching him agonize a bit. He may have caught her off guard earlier with his pleading look and unexpected smile, but she wasn't going to give him the upper hand that easily.

Davey's expression turned sober, and Sadie realized, too late, that he'd taken her teasing statement seriously.

"You're right," he admitted. "I'm the one at fault here, and I shouldn't be complaining." The regret was there again as he added, "I'm sorry for backing out on you at the last minute, and that you had to go through so much trouble to help me, Sadie. I promise, I'll make it up to you in -" he gulped, " - in whatever way you decide."

He really was worried about the consequence she was planning to mete out, and Sadie found herself both perplexed and amused that the same boy who had passionately rallied a band of newsboys to go on strike just hours ago could be so intimidated by someone like her. Davey stood at least a full head taller and was unarguably far brighter than she, but somehow she'd managed to subdue him, even when she'd only meant to tease.

Perhaps she should lay off the teasing for just a bit.

"Davey, I'm not upset at you," she said gently, seeking to reassure her anxious neighbor. She stepped closer, giving him a persuasive smile. "Don't look so distressed, all right? All joking aside, I understand why you need to go, and I promise that there are no hard feelings." She really wasn't angry at him after all, and didn't want him to feel guilty over something as minor as this, especially when he clearly had so many other things on his mind.

"Really?" he asked, sounding doubtful. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, really," Sadie repeated. "Don't give it a second thought."

Davey sighed, relief evident in his voice and in his posture.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "That means a lot. And I really do appreciate you helping me with my schoolwork." He paused a moment, then glanced at her hopefully, "So...I'm off the hook then? About doing something ridiculous?"

Sadie laughed. She'd capitulated enough for tonight, and Davey was mistaken if he thought that he'd get away so easily.

"Not a chance!" she retorted. Tossing a smile in his direction, she walked over to her family's apartment and unlocked the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Davey," she called over her shoulder as she stepped inside. "Good luck in Brooklyn - be careful, all right?" And before he could answer, she shut the door behind her.

If Davey was brave enough to lead a group of newsboys into a strike, she thought to herself, he could certainly handle doing something a little ridiculous.