Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 18: New York Royalty
Davey could feel sweat dripping down his face as he and the other newsies continued their protest outside of the distribution center. The day had dawned hot and humid, and he was glad that he'd elected to forgo the necktie that morning and had worn his blue and white work shirt instead, leaving his vest unbuttoned the way the rest of the newsies did. He wondered why he hadn't thought of doing this before; it helped him blend in with the crowd, and he had to admit that he didn't miss the formality of his usual attire.
The newsies were in decently good spirits considering the drubbing they'd taken the day before. Jack still hadn't shown up, but Race and Davey (who had purposely arrived early at the lodging house that morning) had been able to rally them sufficiently to undertake another day of the strike, so they'd headed to the distribution center and had taken up their stand in front of the metal bars of the circulation gate.
Predictably, more strikebreakers had shown up to challenge the newsies, and eventually the wagons bearing stacks of the morning edition also rolled onto the scene.
The newsies were angry, nervous, and brimming with pent-up energy from the sluggish afternoon and evening they'd spent cooped up in the lodging house the day before. They were raring to brawl, and this time, Davey wasn't able to hold them back. The wagons ended up being overturned, the papers shredded beyond recovery, and the strikebreakers...well, Davey didn't really want to think about what had happened to them.
The idea of using physical force to prove a point unsettled him, but he had to admit that after witnessing the violence unleashed against the newsies the day before, things weren't as simple in practice as they were in his mind. Where did tangible advocacy and necessary self-defense end and egregious retaliation and rioting begin? He didn't know the answer, certainly not in this situation.
The goons from the previous day's conflict were conspicuously absent, and the newsies were on their guard, so they fared better against their opponents the second time around. Only a few were injured in the scuffle, and these were patched up quickly enough by Race (who surprisingly had exercised some foresight and had brought along a makeshift first-aid kit).
Once the wagons had been overturned, the papers lay in shreddings all about the distribution center, and the strikebreakers had been successfully repelled, Race (after getting the nod from Davey) declared that they'd made their point for the day - it was time to go to Jacobi's to cool down. Sending Specs off to collect Henry and Elmer who had been ordered to stay back at the lodging house despite their protests that they were fine, Race gathered the rest of the newsies, and they set off in the direction of the deli.
Davey found himself falling into step with one of the former scabs, the boy he had confronted directly only the day before. He looked fairly young, with a shock of dark hair sticking out of his newsboy cap, and he seemed to keep to himself, not having said a single word that Davey could remember since tossing his newsboy bag back at Weasel to join the strike.
"Hi there," Davey said, trying to sound as friendly and approachable as possible. "I don't think we've officially met before. I'm Davey."
"Tucker," the other boy answered shortly without looking up.
A little reticent, it seemed, but maybe that was just due to shyness or discomfort in a new situation. Davey certainly knew what both of those things felt like. He forged ahead.
"So, how was your first night at the lodging house?" he asked. "And how did you sleep?"
"Unremarkable, and on my back," came the short reply.
Davey rubbed the back of his neck, sensing that he was getting nowhere. "Okay, well...that's...that's good!" he said, telling himself not to abandon the endeavor completely. "I'm sure that it takes some getting used to. I mean, even if you've lived in other lodging houses before, it's probably different every time you're with a new bunch of newsies. I haven't really been a part of this group for very long myself, but they seem like a good crowd from what I've seen so far, and I hope that you'll find your experience to be the same with time..." Davey trailed off as Tucker gave him a sidelong look.
"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked bluntly.
Davey fell silent, a bit taken aback. He'd always been self-conscious about his verbosity, and to be called out on it so curtly when he'd only been trying to be friendly stung a little. But he shook it off as best as he could. If nothing else, the brief "initiation" with the newsies the day before, as well as the chummy joking that had followed, had reassured him that, despite his quirks, he was a part of this group. They'd invited him in, he'd accepted their invitation, and that was that. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to make friends with everybody - but the fact remained that he had friends now, and that ought to be enough to satisfy him.
Tucker was silent for the rest of the walk to Jacobi's, and Davey didn't try to engage him again, letting his thoughts wander instead to the events of the past twenty-four hours.
He hadn't had much time to think since the previous day's brawl. His mind had been focused on getting Les home and making sure that he was safe, then attending to the needs of the newsies and trying to support Race in whatever way he could. Once he'd been assured that things were settled at the lodging house and that there was nothing more that he could do, he'd returned to the tenement, only to find a note from Sadie saying that Margaret had stopped by to catch her up on the day's lesson, and that if Davey wanted to be filled in, he could stop by the landlord's office that night.
So, after dinner, he'd gone up to the third floor and had knocked on the door, surprised again at the little rush of happiness he'd felt when Sadie answered and immediately gave him a quick once-over. Seemingly satisfied that he was all in one piece, she'd asked after Les and then had ushered him into the office where they'd spent the next hour in study, interrupted only occasionally by Abby's exclamations as she made her way through a particularly riveting book. It was a much-needed break for Davey after the intensity and physical exertion of the day's earlier events, and he found himself feeling settled and content as he made his way back to his family's apartment after the tutoring session had been completed.
He'd slept well, woken early, and had hurried over to the lodging house with Les in tow. His brother had insisted on coming, and despite Davey's appeal to his parents to make Les stay at home, the fact was that their father needed peace and quiet at the apartment so that he could rest, and their mother was going to be at work for nearly the entire day. There was no one available to watch the younger Jacobs brother, so he ended up tagging along with Davey after all, much to the latter's dismay.
Maybe it would be better if Les went back to school, Davey thought to himself. He knew that Les would not be happy with the suggestion, but a disgruntled Les was preferable to an injured one, and Davey already felt guilty every time he looked at his little brother with his arm bound up in a sling. It wasn't a broken bone - thank God - but it was a sprain, and though Les was chipper enough about his "battle wound," Davey was sure that it had to be hurting him at least a little.
Mentally tucking the idea away to broach with his mother at a later time, Davey's thoughts turned back to the strike. He was thankful that the second day of protesting had been more or less successful, but he wondered how long they would be able to keep up their resistance. The newsies' morale could change at the drop of a hat - yesterday had proven this both ways - and Davey felt a bit uneasy as he considered the effect that Jack's continued absence could have on the group's resolve.
Where was Jack, anyway? he wondered. He had lost track of almost everyone once Crutchie had been dragged away, and the last he remembered of the newsie leader was seeing Jack take off in the opposite direction, away from the distribution center. Davey had watched him go, only half aware of the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. He'd been focused at the time on making sure that Les was stable, but somewhere in his mind he'd sensed that all was not right with Jack, and when he'd arrived at the lodging house several hours later to check on the newsies, he almost wasn't surprised to see that their leader was not among them. He'd quietly asked one of the boys about it before approaching Race, and his suspicions had been confirmed - Jack had not returned.
It made sense to Davey why Jack would run - maybe in the panic of the moment, he'd been acting on instinct or hadn't been able to bear the sight of Crutchie being beaten and arrested (Davey himself still found even the thought of it hard to stomach). He didn't fault Jack for running away when things had unexpectedly fallen apart and everyone was simply trying to do the best that they could on the fly. But what didn't make sense to Davey was why Jack hadn't come back. The newsies needed him - more now than ever.
And the strike needed him, too. They were at a watershed moment - they'd survived the first attack and had held their ground this morning, and Davey could feel that they were just on the brink of things beginning to turn in their favor - but in order to keep the momentum going, they needed to get the rest of the city's newsies on their side, and he was fairly certain that none of the other leaders would be willing to do that without Jack leading the charge.
Three primary objectives, then: first, to keep the newsies committed to the strike, second, to find Jack, and third, to figure out a way to convince Brooklyn and the rest to show up. But how should he go about accomplishing any of those things?
One minute at a time, Davey reminded himself. They were making progress in the right direction - the attack from the distribution center employees and the bulls had only convinced him of that. The newsies' outcry was being heard - why else would such a quick and forceful response be employed to stop it?
He was pulled out of his musings by the group's arrival at Jacobi's Deli. Race held open the door as the newsies filed in and dropped down at several of the larger tables that sat unoccupied due to the late-afternoon lull in customers. Henry and Elmer, having just arrived with Specs, murmured their greetings to the rest of the group. They were all tired and worn out, Davey noted, the intensity of the heat and the confrontation with the strikebreakers leaving them unusually subdued. Even Mr. Jacobi's wry joking and cups of water on the house didn't seem to lift the mood.
Davey sat idly staring at the glass of water in his hands, still trying to sort out his thoughts and wondering what their next move should be. He was about to get up and walk over to Race, when a familiar voice called out cheerfully, "I thought I might find you here!"
Katherine Plumber waltzed into the deli, a bright smile on her face and a newspaper in her hands. She stopped short at the sight of the listless newsies, who regarded her warily, then shook her head.
"Well, this is a sorry looking group," she lamented. "I was hoping for a warmer reception from the boys who just made the front page of the New York Sun."
That got a reaction.
The newsies sprang up from their chairs, almost knocking each other over in their eagerness to view the paper Katherine that held out and excitedly jabbering amongst themselves in giddy disbelief. Davey had to wait a moment for his turn to see the paper - and Romeo stepped on his foot again as he pushed his way to the front - but once he was holding the copy of The Sun in his hands, he felt a little giddy himself.
There they were: front page news, above the fold.
The paper was snatched out of Davey's hands before he could read any of what Katherine had written, but if the editors of The Sun had deemed it fit for the front page, she must have done a good job on it. Davey's glance fell upon the reporter as she laughed and joshed with the other newsies, and suddenly he felt remorseful. He'd underestimated her, just like they all had - but he should have known better.
"Hey, hey!" Race's voice broke into Davey's thoughts. "Back off, you bummers - and getcha fingers off of my face!" He swatted Albert's hand away from the paper. "Let a fella have his fifteen seconds of fame, will ya?"
"Ah, leave him alone, Al," Finch suggested. "He's just in shock because he got his mug in the papes and he ain't even dead yet!"
A few of the newsies chortled, and Race rolled his eyes. "Geez, Finchy," he groused, turning over his shoulder to look at the other boy. "You always gotta be a downer?" He smacked Finch on the arm with the newspaper.
"All I'm sayin' is there ain't no reason to be gettin' so excited," Finch countered. "A headline's only a headline. Maybe we's front page news today, but we's gonna be wrappin's for someone else's fish n' chips tomorrow."
Race waved him off, shaking his head. "Come on! Stow the seriosity for a moment, will ya? You's missin' the point here!" He snapped the paper open dramatically, then declared, "We's famous!"
"Yeah...so what?" Henry broke in from the back of the group. Race whirled around to face him, looking like the other newsie had just said something incredibly stupid.
"Don'tcha get it?" he demanded. "We's fa-mous." He smacked the paper with his hand, emphasizing each syllable. "We's gonna be sittin' pretty with the entire city at our feet soon, just you watch!"
Davey looked on, half incredulous and half amused as Race began extolling the virtues of fame and waxing eloquent about the luxuries that it could bring. The gambler was bringing all of his exaggerative powers to bear, and as he painted a picture predicting the high life that awaited, the other newsies couldn't help but gradually join in, caught up in their own dreams of what could come from their overnight rise to greatness. Before long, the skeptical Henry had been inveigled, and Finch wasn't too far behind.
Even Davey found the enticement of Race's song and dance difficult to resist. What would he do if he could have anything - anything that he wanted? What kind of life would he give his family? What places would he go or things would he do? What problems would he solve - what wrongs would he right?
He caught sight of Katherine again as she stood watching the newsies' excitement with a small smile on her face. Well...there was one wrong that he didn't have to be rich or famous to make right. He owed the reporter an apology for his earlier misjudgment. Resolving to make amends at the first available opportunity, Davey tucked the thought away. Then he joined the rest of the newsies in celebrating. Finch was partially right - a headline was only a headline - but maybe a headline was all that they needed to win this thing. It certainly wasn't going to hurt. (And, truth be told, there was something quite heady about seeing your picture on the front page; Davey wasn't going to fault anyone for becoming just a bit intoxicated over that).
After a whirlwind of high-spirited revelry, Race declared them all "Kings of New York" to the cheers of the jubilant newsies and the laughter of Katherine before the entire group made its way merrily out of Jacobi's. The reporter called out a goodbye as she headed down the street towards the office of The Sun, and the newsies set off in the opposite direction.
Davey looked both ways, hesitating only a moment before pushing down the last bit of his pride and hurrying after Katherine, catching up to her quickly with his long strides.
"Katherine," he began, "I really need to apologize to you. For something I said earlier."
She looked up at him in surprise. "Tell me your name again," she said pleasantly, "and then you can tell me what you think you need to apologize for."
Davey introduced himself and was surprised when Katherine's laugh bubbled up upon hearing his name. "So you're the one Jack says is the brains behind this whole thing!" she exclaimed. "I should have guessed that you'd be the one challenging me from the beginning."
"That's actually what I need to apologize for," Davey admitted. "I had my reasons for being hesitant, but I shouldn't have said anything to imply that you weren't a real reporter. I'm sorry." He gestured to the newspaper she had tucked under her arm. "You proved me wrong."
Katherine's expression softened noticeably at his words, and Davey wondered if it was rare for her to receive such concessions in her line of work.
"Well, I appreciate and accept your apology," she said simply. "And I hope that the article will get you and the newsboys the attention that your cause deserves."
"It's definitely going to do that," Davey replied. "And in the meantime, it's given us a boost that we really needed. I think it's going to be a tough climb going forward, so we need all the help we can get, especially without Jack."
Katherine nodded soberly. "Do you think he got arrested?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "I heard they took Crutchie to The Refuge."
"I'm not really sure," Davey admitted. "But if Jack doesn't show up soon, I'm going to try to find him. It could be that he's laying low for a while, but hopefully he'll come back. We need him."
"Well, bring me along when you start searching," Katherine suggested. "Two are better than one, and Pulitzer's imposed a blackout on strike news, so if I can't use my pen to help the cause, I can at least use my eyes and ears." She pulled out her pad of paper and scribbled something on it, handing it to Davey. "I'll still be at the office this week - I've got plenty of other stories to cover - but if you come by The Sun, there's the location of my office. Just ask the guard downstairs to show you the way."
Before Davey could answer, he heard Les' voice calling to him from down the street. "Hey, David, what's the hold up? Race and the guys are goin' back to the lodging house, and they said we could come, too!"
Katherine smiled. "Well, you'd better get going," she said.
Davey nodded in agreement. "I'll make sure to let you know when I start searching for Jack," he promised. "It'll be great to have your help."
Bidding the reporter goodbye, he turned and hurried down the street to where the rest of the newsies were waiting. "Sorry," he apologized. "You didn't have to wait for me."
Race clapped him on the shoulder. "You gonna come back with us to the lodging house, Dave?" he asked. "The kid is dyin' to see what it's like, and I'll make the fellas promise not to ask you any questions today."
"Please?" Les pleaded, widening his eyes and giving his older brother a winning smile.
"That may work on some people, but not on me," Davey informed him dryly, letting Les pout for a moment. He didn't really want to encourage his brother's use of manipulative tactics to "make a sale," but in this case there really wasn't anything wrong with the request, so Davey found himself adding, "but if it's that important to you, Les, I guess we can stop by for a short visit...as long as we get home in time for dinner."
"Yeah!" Les pumped his fist in the air, then immediately ran over to the rest of the newsies, shouldering his way in between Buttons and Elmer as the group began walking in the direction of the lodging house.
A/N: I've already touched on the "King of New York" sequence in another one of my stories ("Kings and Kingdoms," if you're interested), so I didn't want to re-hash too much of it here, which is why this is a bit of a different angle than probably what you'd expect. I'd apologize again for all the artistic liberties being taken with the canon scenes, but "slightly different" has pretty much become the norm at this point, so I probably shouldn't keep apologizing for an offense that I commit on the regular ;)
Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought of this installment and my KONY interpretation!
