Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 20: A Voice and a Vote
Race drummed his fingers intermittently against the tabletop, looking vaguely troubled, and Davey almost didn't have the heart to ask him to stop the mildly distracting sound. But eventually he did, and to his surprise, Race ceased the restless movement almost immediately without a quip or a word of protest.
It made Davey a bit uneasy.
The two of them were sitting at the table in the bunk room of the lodging house, Race focused on the scrap of paper he'd been scribbling numbers on and Davey resting his head in his hands, trying to massage the tension out of his temples as he waited for Race to finish his calculations.
They were several days into the strike, and the routine was beginning to wear on all of them. After another morning of protesting at the distribution center, they had returned to the lodging house, where Race and Davey had doled out the food that they'd purchased the day before (a few complaints about the rather stale biscuits were heard, but the grumbling eventually died down). Race had then sent the newsboys outside to burn off their excess energy, charging Specs and Henry with the unenviable task of making sure that no one got hurt or into trouble. Then, he and Davey had made their way upstairs to the bunk room, where they'd sat down at the table and Race had asked for a moment to (of all things) think. He'd procured a scrap of paper and a pencil, then had hurriedly written down a series of numbers, crossing lines out at intervals, scratching his head, sitting back to drum his fingers on the table, then frowning and repeating the entire sequence all over again.
This continued on for several moments before Race stood up abruptly, tossing the paper aside and walking over to one of the bunk beds where he deftly lifted up the floorboards nearby to retrieve a battered-looking strong box.
"About to let'cha in on a little secret, Dave," he grunted, returning to the table and setting the box down with a thud. He then disappeared briefly into the washroom. Davey heard the sounds of items being moved and Race's mild cursing after a particularly loud crash, but soon the gambler re-appeared, holding a key in his hand. He unlocked the box, then opened it carefully, setting the contents on the table.
Davey peered at them curiously. There were several silver certificates and a pouch that looked like it was full of coins, as well as a tiny notebook, a gold ring, and a pair of dice. Race placed the latter two items back into the box before opening up the notebook.
"This here is the Newsie Fund," he said, indicating the small stack of certificates and the bag of coins. "Guess you could call it our cash reserve for when we's in a bind or when a big expense comes up that we wasn't expectin'. Whenever one of the boys has a little extra to spare, he adds it to the pot, an' if he needs a bigger sum than what he can scrape together on his own, he can draw from the Fund. Crutchie's usually the one to keep track of it, but we always keep the key here at the lodging house in case somethin' like this happens where he ain't here to see to it himself.
"We try not to use this unless we really haf'ta," Race continued, flipping through the book to the page where the neat lines of numbers stopped, "but a couple of the boys ain't gonna be able to sleep here tonight if we don't pay their fees. I'm gonna see if some of the older ones'll be willing to go on the roof for a few nights - that'll really help us cut our costs - but even with that, we's gonna need to do somethin' if this strike's gonna drag on like this."
Glancing again at the calculations on the piece of paper and then at the numbers in the notebook, he shook his head. "I don't think Jacky would be happy with us blowin' through this money," he muttered, "but I ain't sure what else we can do."
Race paused for a moment, as if considering something, then turned to look at Davey.
"I know you ain't gonna like this idea," he said quietly, "but the other option would be for some of the boys to go back to sellin' - just a few of 'em, so that we could make enough to get by. I'd only send the best out so that we wouldn't need to lose so many, and the rest of us could probably still make a scene at the distribution center. Course, then we'd have to lay off on roughin' up the strikebreakers, since our own boys would be crossin' the picket line, too."
Davey grimaced. Here they were, once again faced with a conundrum and two equally unappealing solutions to the problem (though at least Race hadn't suggested the obvious third option of calling off the strike altogether). Sending some of the newsies back to sell wasn't ideal, but maybe it was better than depleting their precious emergency fund, especially since there was no telling how long the strike could last. The newspaper owners had shown no signs of capitulation, and while the newsies had managed to stand their ground so far, they certainly had less to fall back on and more to lose.
Davey sighed. This business of going on strike was a lot more complicated than they'd thought.
"I suppose we'd better think of what we can sustain indefinitely," he said slowly in response to Race's question. "Even if we were to use the Newsie Fund so that we didn't have to go back to selling now, there's no telling if it would be enough to outlast the strike. I'd be more inclined to take the risk if we had any kind of sign that things were turning in our favor - but it seems like we've reached an impasse."
Race nodded his agreement. "So you's thinkin' some of us go back to work, then?" he asked.
"I guess so," Davey agreed reluctantly. "If that's what you think would be best." It didn't feel entirely right, but it seemed to be the safer of the two options.
"It's your call, Dave," Race insisted. "Jack's orders - if he goes missing, you's the final word when it comes to the strike."
Davey stared at him in astonishment. "Wait, I don't understand. Why would he...why would he say that?" He'd helped to start the strike, perhaps, but he was no more well-equipped than Race or any of the other boys to make decisions about how it should play out.
The other newsie shrugged, sitting back in his chair. "I ain't gonna pretend like I know what goes on in Jacky's head - but I woulda told him if I'd thought it was a bad idea."
It wasn't exactly a vote of confidence, but it wasn't a put-down, either.
Davey shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that responsibility. Helping Race out - being a second opinion or a second set of hands - was one thing. Being expected to make the final decision on something this big was an entirely different matter. And he really wasn't the only one who should have a say.
"What if we let the boys decide?" he suggested after a moment.
Race looked at him in surprise.
"They've held out for this long, and they know what's at stake now," Davey continued. "Why not give them the choice to keep striking or to go back to work?"
"Pretty sure if we do that we's gonna have a disbanded union on our hands," Race remarked dryly.
"We'll talk to them first," Davey clarified. "Present the pros and cons." Seeing that the other newsie still looked unconvinced, he tried to explain himself. "It just seems like at this point we should give them a chance to ask their questions and voice their concerns...maybe let them think things through on their own. If they take more ownership of the decision, maybe they'll feel more confident in whatever choice is made going forward."
He'd been wondering about this ever since he'd seen Jack rally the newsies to go on strike. Clearly, the boys were used to following a leader and going along with what he suggested (and Jack did have a knack for persuading people - Davey himself knew this from experience). But what if someone were to challenge the newsies to think for themselves a bit, to put their heads to the issue and to try to reason through the best possible solution? Certainly, there was a time and place for executive decisions, but in this case, could some good come from arriving at a collective conclusion? Would the process of coming up with an answer together be fruitful, even if the final decision ended up being the same as what he and Race would have chosen anyway? Davey wasn't sure - and he knew that it was a bit of a risky move, but they had to do something at this point to get out of the rut that they were in.
"I know it sounds a little ridiculous, Race," he admitted. "But we're going to need the newsies to be fully on board moving forward. Giving them a say in the decision could draw them together, and you said it yourself - we need to keep our morale up if we want to have a chance of outlasting the newspaper owners."
"And what if we give the boys a say and it turns out they's not on board with the strike anymore?" Race pointed out.
"Well…" Davey trailed off. "I guess if they're not on board, then it's better to know now rather than later. I don't know how much longer we'd last anyway without a united front." He hoped that calling off the strike wouldn't be the decision - but again, that was a risk they'd have to take.
For a moment, Race didn't answer, still clearly conflicted. Then finally, he nodded.
"All right, Mr. 'The membership's gotta vote,'" he sighed. "I ain't sure how I feel about it, but I hear ya." Sitting up in his chair, he began putting the items on the table back into the strong box. "So we call a meetin' tonight to talk to the fellas about everything."
Davey reached over to help him. "That sounds good," he agreed. He didn't have a tutoring session planned for that evening, so he would be free to return to the lodging house. "I've got to head back home to take care of some things, but I'll come by tonight after dinner." He put his hand on Race's shoulder, standing with the other boy as he rose to return the box to its place beneath the floorboards.
"Hey…" he said, catching the gambler's eye, "I know it's taking a chance, letting the boys weigh in on the decision, and maybe it's not how Jack would have done things...but thanks for being willing to give it a try. If it ends up being the wrong decision, it falls on me - I'll take full responsibility."
Race shrugged him off. "You ain't exactly twistin' my arm to make me agree to this, Dave," he said matter-of-factly. "We's in this together." Turning away, he headed towards the open space in the floor. "Now am-scray, punk. Go take care of your business so you can get back here. I ain't runnin' that meetin' by myself."
Davey smiled a little. "All right, Race," he answered. "See you tonight."
Receiving a grunt of acknowledgement from the other boy, he turned and headed down the stairs and out of the lodging house, shading his eyes against the sudden brightness of the afternoon sun and calling out to Les, who was playing with the other newsies a bit of a ways down the street. Once his younger brother came running over, Davey waved a farewell to the other newsies, and the Jacobs brothers set off in the direction of their tenement.
Les, true to form, chattered excitedly the entire way home, and Davey did his best to listen attentively, but his mind was already working feverishly at something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to push for including the newsies in the decision-making process regarding the strike's continuation. It would have been easier to just settle on a course of action and implement it without soliciting what could turn out to be contrary popular opinion. But at this juncture, with morale and money quickly dwindling, getting the newsies to take ownership of the strike was pivotal, and it seemed like the best way to do that would be by giving each of them a say and a vote.
Something clicked in his mind.
Davey had to stop himself from snapping his fingers at the epiphany. Giving every newsie a say and a vote. That was it! That was what they had been missing. They were in desperate need of reinforcements, and so far Brooklyn and the others had failed to join the cause, but what if they were offered a chance to learn about the strike without committing to it yet, if they were invited to share their concerns and to help determine how things would progress...would they then be more willing to buy in?
There was a time and place for putting up a bold front - and Davey understood why Jack had taken this approach initially when they'd met with Spot in Brooklyn - but there was also a time and place to admit that you didn't have all the answers and that you needed help. And that was certainly the place where they found themselves at the present.
Could the concept that they were attempting to put into play at the lodging house meeting be replicated on a larger scale with all the newsies of New York? An informational meeting - no, better yet, a city-wide rally - that would allow Spot and the rest to learn about the strike and offer their opinions - maybe that could be the key to unifying their forces. And if they could get the rest of the city's newsies on board...well, at that point they would be a lot harder for Pulitzer and the rest to ignore.
"David!" Les scolded, forcefully interrupting Davey's train of thought. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Sorry, Les," Davey muttered apologetically. "Just got distracted there for a moment." He looked at the younger boy, doing his best to show that he was giving him his full and undivided attention. "Tell me again what you said just now?"
"I said, I need your opinion about my girl problem," Les answered.
"Your...girl problem?" Davey repeated.
"You heard me. While you and Race were meeting, I was outside with the rest of the newsies, and a bunch of girls from school walked by. I guess they must have seen my picture in the papes, because as soon as they saw me, they were all over me like bees on honey. Some of them wanted to know if I had really gotten injured in a fight with the police, and two of them asked me straight out if they could be my girl! Seems like Race was right - fame sure has a way of making a fella popular.
"Of course," Les continued, "I couldn't choose between the two of them right then and there, so once the girls left, I asked the rest of the newsies what they thought about my little dilemma. Romeo said I should just keep both of them around, but I wasn't sure about that, because despite all his flirting, I'm not sure how much success he's actually had with girls. So I told him I was going to ask you." Les gave Davey a scrutinizing look. "Though...come to think of it, I'm not sure how much success you've actually had with girls, either. Anyway," he continued, "you're supposed to be the smart one. What do you think? Alice is funny, and she always has cookies at lunch, but Sally's a plum."
Davey grimaced. "You shouldn't be calling Sally a plum, Les - " he began.
"But it's true," his brother protested.
"Even if it is, I really don't – "
"So, you're saying that I'm better off with Alice, then?" Les interrupted.
Davey exhaled, then tried to answer as patiently as possible. "I'm saying that you're a little too young to be going after girls like that."
Les scowled. "Were you even listening to me, David? I'm not going after them. They're the ones who've come flocking to me." He threw his hands in the air. "I can't help it if I'm irresistible!"
Davey found himself pinching the bridge of his nose. His mind wasn't made for these kinds of conversations. Fame was definitely getting to Les' head, and all of the idle time that he'd had on his hands since the strike began wasn't helping. Davey was going to have to speak to his mother that night about sending his brother back to school until the strike was over - though now that Les had amassed a gaggle of overnight admirers from among his classmates, there was no telling whether or not it would prove to be an effective solution in the long run.
They reached the tenement, and Les, clearly disgruntled at his older brother's inability to provide any relevant advice, hurried up the stairs. After opening up the apartment, Davey peeked into his parents' room to check on his father, then made his way over to the kitchen table where his mother had left some money and a list of groceries that she needed. He'd promised her that he would take care of picking up the items for her once he got home, so after a quick reminder to Les to stay out of trouble and to help their father should he need anything, Davey left the apartment again.
As he made his way down the street, he found himself grateful to have a moment alone, as his thoughts returned almost immediately to the idea of holding a rally for the newsies. It wouldn't be an easy undertaking - they would have to find a location large enough where they could assemble everyone, somewhere out of the public eye where the cops wouldn't come after them and the newspaper owners would be unaware of their presence. They'd have to figure out how exactly they'd want to run the rally, who should speak, and how they would facilitate receiving questions and concerns. And then there was the challenge of making sure that the word got out…
And Jack. They definitely needed to find Jack. His presence at the rally would be indispensable.
Slow down, Davey reminded himself. One thing at a time. He would broach the subject with Race that night after the meeting to see what the interim newsie leader thought of the idea. It was a little bit of a reach, and pulling it off would take some doing, but Davey had a good feeling about it, and if Race didn't object, he was ready to take the idea and run with it. There had to be a way to make it happen.
He would find a way.
A/N: I'm not sure if the concept of a "Newsie Fund" has been proposed somewhere else in the fandom, but the idea behind this - at least, as I conceive of it here - actually came from a really interesting conversation I had with a friend about something completely unrelated (but historically grounded). I don't want to put a long explanation for it here, but if you're interested, ask me about it sometime! :)
Thank you for reading! If you're so inclined, please leave me a review letting me know what you thought of this chapter!
