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


Chapter 13: Davey's Defense

If Mayer's leg hadn't been injured, Esther Jacobs knew without a doubt that her husband would have been wearing the floor clean through with his pacing. Instead, he was sitting restlessly at the table, his injured leg propped up on a stool, drumming his fingers softly against the worn wooden tabletop and looking ill-at-ease.

It was getting later and later, and David still had not returned. Esther's candle, which she had customarily lit earlier in the evening, was burning low, and her composure was diminishing with it.

It was out of character for her older son to willingly go somewhere at night. David was the kind who preferred a quiet evening at home, usually with a book, (though occasionally she'd seen him scribbling away in the journal that he'd gotten as a birthday gift several years ago), so when he had approached them for permission to run an errand that night with one of the newsboys he'd met on the job, they had given their consent out of surprise as much as anything else.

Of course, they hadn't allowed David to leave before Esther had extracted a promise that he would explain everything to them upon his return. She could see that he wasn't surprised by her stipulation, which he quickly agreed to, but she also caught the look of reluctance in his eyes as he gave his assent.

David, while naturally reserved, had never been particularly adept at hiding things. Voluntary disclosure was not his way, but neither was subterfuge, and it only took someone knowing the right questions to ask or the right points to press for him to open up. It took time, however, to learn the art of drawing him out, and though Esther had become better at it over the years, she sensed that there was still so much about her older son that yet lay undisclosed.

The significance of choosing to give permission first and request answers later would not have been lost on David. It would have been well within Esther and Mayer's rights as parents to demand an explanation for his uncharacteristic behavior before determining whether or not they would grant their consent. But Esther had seen the urgency in her son's face as he'd made his request and had sensed that this was something he felt he needed to do, so she'd trusted her instincts, subtly signaling to Mayer her assent, which he then gave as well. And David had responded with a relieved and grateful look that had been the closest thing to a smile she'd seen on his face in days. He knew that they were trusting him and that letting him go without requiring him to account for himself first was a mark of respect. Esther might have been imagining it, but she thought that David stood a little straighter and seemed a bit more confident as he left the apartment that night, and she hoped that his parents' show of confidence in him had given him the fortitude he needed to face whatever it was that awaited him.

She trusted David and knew that her responsible older son wasn't going to make any unwise decisions. But that didn't mean she wasn't worried about him. And it certainly wouldn't stop her from interrogating him soundly once he got home.

"Would you like to go to bed, Mayer?" Esther asked, giving her husband a concerned glance. She knew that the pain of his injury had been taxing on his stamina, and it was already much later than when he normally retired for the night. "I can wait up for David."

"We'll wait together," Mayer answered, shifting slightly in his chair. "I'm as impatient as you are to hear his explanation." He glanced at Esther's sputtering candle, shaking his head at the lateness of the hour. "And it had better be a good one," he muttered.

No sooner had he said this, when they heard the sound of a key being inserted into the door of the apartment. The lock clicked softly and the door opened, revealing their son who looked weary and apologetic but none the worse for wear.

Esther sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry," David whispered, closing the door. He stole a quick glance in the direction of his brother, asleep in their bed in the corner of the room, then made his way quietly over to where his parents were sitting. "Things took a little longer than I expected."

"You did tell us that you might be out late," Esther answered, resting a hand on his arm as he took a seat across from them at the table.

"That being said, your mother and I are quite keen to know why, exactly, you were out so late, David," Mayer added. His tone wasn't exactly stern, but it was commanding, and David sat up a little straighter.

"Yes, sir," he answered, giving a nod of deference to his father. He paused for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts, then said slowly, "I'm sorry that I had to rush off earlier, and I'm sorry that I kept you up so late waiting. I'm not sure if Les has told you anything, and even if he hasn't, you probably suspect this by now...but today wasn't an ordinary day of selling for us."

"Les has been uncharacteristically closed-mouthed about whatever has transpired," Mayer answered shortly. "Please continue."

David looked shocked that his brother hadn't given away whatever confidential information they shared and seemed to be a bit at a loss.

"Well..." he said, fiddling nervously with his necktie, "I suppose there's no easy way of breaking this news…" he glanced first at Mayer, and then at Esther, and then the words came out in a rush: " - but this morning the newspaper owners raised the price of papers by ten cents per hundred for the newsboys all over the city, so we went on strike."

None of them had been speaking loudly, and David's confession had been delivered in a rather muted tone, but the silence, by contrast, was deafening.

Esther's mind struggled to make sense of what she had just heard. This wasn't something her responsible, cautious son would do. How could he allow himself and Les get drawn into something so risky when he knew that their entire family's welfare was at stake? And on only his second day at the job? It wasn't like David at all...

"You went on strike?" Mayer finally broke the silence, sounding both incredulous and irate.

"I know it sounds crazy," David pleaded. "But please, Dad, just hear me out. I've thought a lot about this, and I promise you, I didn't agree to strike along with the rest of the newsboys without first weighing the consequences - "

"Weighing the consequences?" Mayer interrupted angrily. "Weighing the consequences? Don't you understand, David? If you and Les don't sell papers, we don't eat!"

"I know!" David's voice was anguished. "I know, Dad. Just - please - please let me explain."

Esther could see that he was fighting to keep his emotions under control, and she could also sense her husband's growing indignation, so she quickly stepped in.

"Why did you feel that you and Les needed to join the strike, David?" She wasn't going to feign an acceptance that she didn't feel, but she didn't want all of the work that she'd done trying to reassure David of their trust in him to be unraveled in a few moments of reactionary anger.

David didn't answer for a moment, clearly trying to calm himself down and to choose his words carefully before he spoke again.

"What the newspaper owners did wasn't very different from what Dad's bosses did to him after he got hurt on the job," he said finally. "By raising the price of papers, they were putting their own profits above the wellbeing of their employees." His eyes came up to meet Esther's. "Some of the newsboys can't afford to pay the ten cent increase," he added quietly, and she could see how troubled he was by the thought. "Losing that dime a day means losing a meal, maybe even lodging for the night. I haven't been around them long enough to fully understand all of the implications, but I do know that this isn't just about pinching pennies. It's about their survival."

David turned to his father. "Dad, when your bosses laid you off after your injury, they weren't thinking about how that would affect you or the rest of us. They were only thinking about their profit. And we had to accept their decision, because you didn't have a union to challenge them."

"I didn't think the newsboys had a union, either," Mayer interjected, sounding wary but a bit more calm than before.

David shifted in his seat. "Well..." he adjusted his necktie again. "You're right. They didn't." He cleared his throat. "Until today."

"What do you mean?" Esther asked.

"Jack - he's the leader of the Manhattan newsboys that sell The World - came up with the idea of going on strike, but he wasn't really sure how to go about it, so I helped him out a little," David explained, sounding mostly embarrassed but also slightly proud. "We organized the union first and then officially voted to go on strike. Since then, we've been trying to gather support from the rest of the city's newsboys. That's why I was out so late tonight. Jack and I went to Brooklyn to meet with the leader there to see if we could persuade him to join our cause. It'll be a lot more convincing to the newspaper owners tomorrow morning if we show up at the circulation gate with a big crowd of newsboys at our backs. And we're hoping that once they see that we aren't backing down, they'll reconsider and agree to roll back the prices to where they were."

"I assume you read the paper that you were selling yesterday before this business of the strike took place?" Mayer asked.

David nodded.

"Then you must know, from your familiarity with what the trolley workers are encountering, that going on strike isn't merely amassing a group of angry workers to shout and shake fists at the powers that be," Mayer continued. He looked his son in the eye. "It's dangerous. If the newspaper owners decide to hire reinforcements to break up the strike, you, Les, and the other newsboys could be hurt. You should be concerned about your physical safety."

"I am," David responded. "Especially Les's safety. The last thing I'd want is to put him in danger." He returned his father's level gaze, and Esther could see that he was gathering his courage. "But we have to do this, Dad. I know it's a risk, and that the odds are against us, but if we don't take a stand now, what's going to stop the newspaper owners from treating us the way your bosses treated you? They've raised the prices once - what's going to keep them from doing it again?"

David paused as if to let the thought sink in, then added, "You always told me and Les that we had to stand up for people who couldn't stand up for themselves. The newsboys - they're just like me, except they don't have a home to go back to or parents to worry about them being out late at night. They don't have anyone to look out for them - they have to look out for themselves. This price increase is going to devastate them, and they don't have the strength to fight it alone. They have to stand together. And I have to stand with them. I have to try to help them through this...it's my responsibility."

He glanced over at Mayer's injured leg propped up on the stool beside the table.

"I'm not just doing it for the newsboys, Dad," he said quietly. "I'm doing it for you. I know it's not going to fix what happened to you after your accident, but if it keeps someone else from having to suffer from the same injustice...isn't that something worth fighting for?"

His eyes came up to meet theirs again, and for a minute, the silence hung heavily in the room. None of them stirred or made a sound. The only movement was that of the dwindling candle, its flickering light throwing shadows across the walls.

Then Mayer turned to Esther and remarked wryly, "Since when did our son become such a confident, well-spoken rebel?"

Esther considered the question for a moment before answering, "I believe it was right around two days ago, when you put him in charge of this family."

"In charge of being the breadwinner for this family," Mayer corrected, shaking his head in amusement at his wife's mild teasing. "It's an entirely different thing, my dear." He returned his attention to David, who looked extremely relieved to see that his parents' good humor was still intact despite his shocking news.

"Well, son," Mayer said, "it's clear that you feel you need to stand alongside the newsboys and see this through, and we want to let you follow your convictions." Mayer glanced at Esther, who gave a tiny nod, before continuing. "This doesn't mean that the issue of the money goes away, however. Your mother was able to find some additional work at one of the factories nearby, so we'll have a little more money coming in from that, but it won't be enough to negate the loss of both you and your brother's incomes."

"I'll find a way to make up for it, Dad," David interjected quickly. "I'll think of something. I promise."

"There may actually be another temporary solution," his father said, holding up his hand and looking thoughtful. "When you were born, your mother and I started setting aside money for you - just a few coins here and there. We were planning to give it to you as a gift next year when you finished school. It's not much, just a modest reserve, but along with the income from your mother's job, it could help us through the next few weeks." He looked David in the eye. "But it's your money."

"Use it," David answered firmly. "Until I can figure out what to do. It was my decision to go on strike, so the money should help offset that decision."

"Are you sure?" Esther asked doubtfully. "Those funds were meant to help you start your career or your own family..."

"I suppose you could say that I've already started a career," David responded, a bit jokingly. "Though it's been put on hold for now, and the family is still forthcoming."

"Don't even think it," Mayer warned. "As soon as I go back to work, you and your brother go back to school." He gave his son a stern look.

"Of course, Dad," David answered, looking slightly chastened but not cowed. Esther couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something different about his bearing. A kind of quiet confidence had replaced the aimlessness that had been in her son's voice when he'd spoken to her only the night before about his first day as a newsboy. Something about this strike had grounded him, had made the pieces in his mind all fit together, and this synthesis had crystallized into a determined conviction that was nothing like anything she'd ever seen in David before.

And yet, she wasn't surprised. He'd always been a thinker, and then a deliberate and methodical doer. It made sense that he would want to act on the principles that he'd been taught and shaped by for so many years. He had only lacked something to force him past his cautious and hesitant nature and into action. The newsboy strike had been the very impetus that he'd needed.

Esther was suddenly taken aback, remembering her fervent prayer from the night before. Was this the deliverance that she'd unknowingly prayed for and felt that she had been promised for David? Not deliverance from his work as a newsboy (although ironically that supplication seemed to have been granted as well, at least temporarily)...but deliverance from a lack of confidence, from hesitation, from fear? She knew that David often refrained from speaking, choosing to bottle up his ideas and emotions instead of giving voice to them. He'd always been quiet, rule-following, tentative, and safe.

But now he was being anything but that. And it had brought something to life in him. It wasn't joy. But it was purpose and determination and resolve. It sat upon his countenance and rested upon his shoulders, and he carried it well, as though he'd been preparing his whole life to carry it. Esther had always known that David wasn't ordinary. But this was the first time she'd gotten a glimpse of what that could possibly mean. It wasn't that he had suddenly become someone else - the deliberateness, the thoughtful weighing of choices and of words, the seriousness, all were still there. But the fear and hesitation that had been equally characteristic of David's way of operating had somehow been diminished to second place. And it was in this subordination that he had somehow become a braver and truer version of himself, perhaps the David he needed to be for a time such as this. Perhaps something closer to the David he was meant to be all along.

Mayer, ever the practical one, pulled Esther out of her reflection. "Well, it seems like we've settled everything then," he remarked, stifling a yawn. "It's late, and we should all get to bed - especially you, David. That newsboy union won't run itself."

David nodded gratefully. "Yes, Dad. Thank you - you too, Mom. I promise, I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

"I'd say you've done a decent job of that so far," Mayer remarked, "so I won't be expecting anything less." It was the closest that he would get to complimenting his son, but Esther could see that David took the affirmation for what it was.

"What your father is trying to say is that he's proud of you," she said. "We both are. What you're doing takes conviction and bravery. It's not easy."

David shook his head. "I don't feel brave, Mom," he admitted. "I know I'm doing the right thing...but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't afraid."

"Well, a wise man once said, 'Courage is not the absence of fear, but the fortitude to face it,'" Mayer remarked. "A little fear can be a good thing - it keeps you from making rash decisions. But you can't let fear make your decisions for you, either." He gave David a nod. "You'll figure it out, son. I know you will. And with that being said…" he glanced at Esther, "...it really is time for all of us to get some sleep."

She nodded in agreement and was about to rise to help him to their bedroom when David got to his feet.

"I'll help Dad get settled, Mom," he said, taking Mayer's arm. He gave Esther an understanding look, and she knew that he was thoughtfully giving her some time alone, sensing that she would need the space to process and reflect on the conversation that had just taken place. He would probably carve out his own time to be alone with his thoughts once everyone had gone to bed, or perhaps early the next morning.

With a word of thanks, Esther bid David and Mayer good night, waiting until they had disappeared into the other room before going to fetch her little stub of a candle. She contemplated blowing it out - the glow of the kitchen lamp provided more than adequate lighting - but decided to let it burn instead. The hour was indeed late, and she had a full day of work ahead of her come morning...but for the moment, she was content to simply sit and ruminate on all that had been said around the table.


A/N: The adage that Mayer quotes in this chapter is a slightly altered version of a saying that has been attributed to so many different people that I'm not sure who to credit for originally coining it. But whoever said it first was indeed very wise.