Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 26: Convincing Jack
Not entirely to Davey's surprise, it turned out that Race wasn't ready to see Jack yet.
The gambler had listened to Davey's report the next day about the conversation at the theater and had received the news without saying a single word, but upon the report's completion, Race had loudly announced that he needed to blow off some steam and was headed to the Sheepshead Bay Racetrack for the rest of the day. He placed Specs in charge of the newsies, tasked Henry with purchasing food for their lunch, and ordered Davey to "go work it out" with Jack and to report back the following day. Then Race pulled his cap onto his head, tucked his cigar into his vest pocket, and promptly left the lodging house without saying another word to anyone.
Davey and Specs shared a look, the former shrugging apologetically and the latter shaking his head in dismay before going over to break up a scuffle that had broken out between Finch and Sniper. Henry silently tucked the money that Race had given him for the newsies' lunch into his pocket, then, with a little nod to Davey, left to fulfill his task.
Davey waited a few moments before heading out himself; he wanted to make sure that the newsies wouldn't prove to be too much for Specs to handle, but after a few minutes of observation, it was clear that the other boy had things well in hand, so Davey took his leave, heading down the street. It felt odd to be walking anywhere by himself, but Les (despite his rather vocal protests) had been sent back to school that morning, sentenced to resume his scholastic obligations until the strike resolved. This left Davey without anyone to look after, and it was an oddly freeing and yet unusual feeling.
It probably had turned out for the best that Les hadn't been there to witness Race's strong if wordless reaction to the report on Jack's whereabouts. The younger boy would have certainly had questions - questions that would have been beyond the scope of Davey's ability to explain in a tactful manner (though in general, prudence was never easy to maintain when it came to explaining things to Les).
Truth be told, Davey didn't fault Race for his outburst. It had been a stressful time, and Race had borne the brunt of the fallout from Jack's absence, so it really wasn't surprising that he would need some time and space to vent his frustrations. Furthermore, the unexpected responsibility of leading the newsies had left Race cooped up in the lodging house without his usual methods of respite, so his reaction was to be expected. Davey just hoped that the gambler wouldn't make any resentment-induced decisions at the track.
Trying his best not to worry about the other newsie, Davey turned his attention to the duty that he'd been tasked with - to work out the details of the rally with Jack, who, it seemed, had elected not to return to the lodging house the night before and had likely remained at the theater (perhaps, Davey mused, Race wasn't the only one not ready for a face-to-face reunion). It wasn't a position that Davey relished, playing go-between, but he could understand the hesitation on both sides, and he wasn't going to fault either newsie for that. Jack and Race would eventually have to see each other at the rally, and that would be soon enough.
Making his way to Irving Hall, Davey let himself in through the same back door that he'd used the day before, making his way through the labyrinth of backstage passages easily this time. He found Jack dozing off on the stage behind one of the canvas backdrops, slouched awkwardly on a stool and leaning against the wall, a paintbrush slowly sliding out of his fingers.
Davey reached out and managed to catch the brush before it fell, grimacing at the flecks of white paint now dotting his shirt sleeve (he seemed to have the most unfortunate luck when it came to these things, but at least the shirt was white, too, so it didn't really show). Jack startled awake, roused perhaps by the sound of the sudden movement, and he seemed to be disoriented at first, his eyes darting between Davey and the paintbrush in confusion.
"What the…?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Where am I?"
Davey set the brush down on the nearby table of painting supplies. "You're at Irving Hall, Jack," he said calmly, trying to hide his slight concern at the other boy's disorientation. "You've been painting backdrops for Miss Medda. Katherine, Les, and I found you here yesterday, remember?"
"Oh...right." Jack straightened up, rolling his neck a bit and wincing. "Must've fallen asleep for a while there. I was havin' the strangest dream." He rose and began sealing up the nearby cans of paint, as though needing to do something concrete to bring himself back to reality. "What're you doin' here, Davey?" he asked, sounding tired. "Did Racer send the Walkin' Mouth over to give me the tongue-lashin' he thinks I deserve?"
Davey was grateful that Jack wasn't looking at him right then. "N-no," he answered, trying not to grimace at how unconvincing he sounded. "That's not why I'm here, Jack. I wanted to talk to you more about the rally."
"What about it?" Jack questioned, still busy with the paint.
"Well...did you get a chance to ask Miss Medda about whether or not we could use the theater?" Davey asked, deciding that they might as well cover the easy details first.
Jack nodded. "Yeah. She said Saturday night's ours if we want it."
Saturday night. That gave them almost two days to prepare, probably just enough time if they stayed on track.
"Okay, great," Davey answered, his mind already adjusting its numerous mental checklists. "That's a big relief to know that we've got a place to hold the rally. Now we can spread the word to the rest of the newsies around the city." Race and the boys would be able to get to that the following day.
Now to discuss the slightly-less-innocuous details.
"Jack..." Davey began hesitantly, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I was actually hoping - " Jack brushed past him, moving several cans of paint to the other side of the canvas backdrop. "I was hoping to talk to you about something else, too," Davey continued, raising his voice a notch so that the other newsie could hear him behind the backdrop. He wished that Jack would stop moving for just a moment so that they could discuss things - it was hard enough to broach the subject without having to speak to a moving target - but if Jack needed to express his restless energy, so be it.
"What's that, Dave?" Jack asked, sounding affable enough from the other side of the canvas.
"Well…I was wondering if you were planning to speak at the rally or not," Davey hedged, inwardly chiding himself for turning what should have been a direct question into a passive statement.
Come on, Davey - you can do better than that.
He cleared his throat and walked around to the other side of the backdrop where Jack had begun painting again.
"I think it would only be right for you to address the crowd since you're the face of the strike," he said, more assertively this time. "It would start the night off strong if you could give a welcome and maybe a speech of some kind like you did with the scabs at the distribution center."
Jack was a charismatic orator, and even if his manner of speaking wasn't the most polished, he had a way of mesmerizing and inspiring others. He really was the only logical choice, and Davey fervently hoped that he would agree to be the first one to address the crowd on the night of the rally.
"You sure you want to leave the speechifyin' up to me, Davey?" Jack asked, making short, quick strokes across the canvas. "I ain't exactly a shinin' example of stickin' with the strike, ya know. I ain't even sure the fellas'll want to listen to me."
"They will," Davey said firmly. "They'll be overjoyed to see you, Jack." He was sure that, despite the disappointment the other Manhattan boys felt with regards to Jack's absence, there would be a warm welcome waiting for the newsie leader when he made his reappearance. Race was the exception - and he had good reason to be upset - but Davey didn't think that the others would be anything but excited at Jack's return.
"Besides," he added sensibly, "Brooklyn and the others don't know that you took some time away. Race didn't tell them anything, so they won't be the wiser."
Jack paused, seemingly surprised at this, but Davey saw a grateful look flash briefly across his face before he began painting again.
"I still ain't sure it's a good idea," Jack muttered, sounding conflicted but (Davey noted hopefully) not completely opposed to the idea anymore. They were making progress in the right direction.
Having deployed his emotional and logical reassurances, Davey now turned to the final tactic left in his arsenal.
"If you would really rather not give a speech, Jack, then that's all right," he said appeasingly. "You were my first choice, of course, but I've got some other boys in mind for back up, so I guess I'll just ask them."
Jack dipped his brush into the can of paint by his feet, looking a little agitated at first but saying nothing as he continued to dab at the canvas.
Davey waited a moment.
"Which, ah...which one of the fellas did you have in mind?" Jack asked with poorly-concealed curiosity.
"Well, I was actually thinking about Albert," Davey said, willing himself to keep a straight face. "He's got above-average volume and great comedic timing, so I'm sure he could pull off a decent speech in a pinch."
"Hrm," was Jack's only reply. "Albert, huh?"
The paint dabbing became a bit more aggressive.
"Or maybe Elmer," Davey continued easily. "With all of the interest that he seems to have in politicians and their doings, he's probably heard a campaign speech or two - or at least I'm sure he's read about one in the papes. It couldn't hurt to give him a shot."
"Elmer?" Jack exclaimed, his attempted nonchalance abandoned. He was clearly agitated now.
"Or if they both say no, I thought that maybe even Les could do a pretty good job of it," Davey offered, as though it was the most reasonable idea in the world.
Jack finally stopped painting to look up at him. "Your brother?"
"Sure," Davey shrugged. "He knows how to make a sale - 'born to the breed" as you said yourself. If his charm can sell a thousand papes a week, I'm sure it's got to be good for persuading several hundred newsies to - "
"You's playin' with me, Davey, ain'tcha?" Jack growled, comprehension suddenly dawning. "You ain't really plannin' on askin' any of those bummers."
Davey allowed himself to smile a little. "What makes you think that, Jack?"
The newsie leader scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "You really had me goin' there," he admitted, as though he wasn't sure whether to laugh or to scowl, and Davey could see that his pride had been pricked a bit.
"So...you'll speak at the rally, then?" Davey asked. "I've managed to convince you?"
"I'll speak at the rally if it'll keep the likes of Albert and Elmer from makin' us the laughin' stock of all of New York!" Jack blustered, still looking a bit put out.
"Okay, that's great!" Davey answered brightly, unable to keep himself from indulging in a little good-natured mocking. "I'm glad to hear that you've finally warmed up to the idea." He grinned as the other newsie gave him a friendly shove.
"Shaddup," Jack groused. "You's just as bad as Racer, only worse, 'cause no one would've expected that kinda crazy flimflam comin' from a straight-laced guy like you."
"Crazy or not, you fell for it."
"Shaddup." Jack combined his repeated directive with a good-natured but forceful punch that had Davey protesting in response.
"Jack! Was that really necessary?" he demanded, wincing as he rubbed his arm.
The newsie leader paused for a moment as if considering the question. Then he shrugged unremorsefully.
"Nah," he answered with a grin.
Davey gave him an exasperated look.
"Anyway," Jack said, "now that you's finished with your convincin,' I take it you got some other things you want to discuss?"
"Yes, actually," Davey answered, drawn back to the task at hand. "I wanted to see if you had any thoughts on our financial situation. Something has to be done about paying for the lodging house fees - "
"Have as many of the fellas go up on the roof as you can," Jack suggested immediately. "And send some of 'em to hang around the deli at the end of the day. If Jacobi's in the right mood, he'll give us the day-old bread for half-off every once in a while. And if that don't work, try the Sisters at St. Peter's - sometimes they's able to help us out when the money is tight and the boys is hungry."
Davey nodded; Race had already implemented the first two suggestions, but they hadn't thought of trying the third.
"If you still ain't able to make ends meet," Jack continued, sounding reluctant, "...then you's gonna have to dip into the Newsie Fund."
Davey looked at him in surprise; only the day before, Jack had been vehemently opposed to even the thought of touching that money.
"Are you sure, Jack?" he asked. "I know you weren't happy about the idea of having to use it."
Jack huffed. "Yeah, well I still ain't happy about it, but I ain't gonna be a nitwit about it either." He didn't offer further explanation, and Davey sensibly decided not to press him for one; if Jack was giving his consent, that was good enough.
"Okay," he said. "I'll tell Race that you gave him the go-ahead."
There was more he wanted to discuss with Jack about the rally - namely, the many ideas that he had for the program and some of the logistical details that he'd come up with which could be particularly strategic - but he wondered if it would be unwise to try to involve Jack any further at this point. The newsie leader's advice and insight would be helpful, but Davey could sense that he was drawing near an unacknowledged line that he should be wary of crossing. Jack clearly wasn't ready to jump back into his role as leader yet (though their conversation certainly proved that he wasn't willing to relinquish total control, either), and the ambiguity of who was in charge now that Race seemed to have half checked out as well made things just a bit sticky.
So Davey kept his ideas to himself, reasoning that he would run them by Race once the other newsie had returned from his day at the track. Jack had agreed to speak at the rally, and that was victory enough for now.
"Will you be coming back to the lodging house soon, Jack?" he asked, already suspecting the answer but wanting to be sure.
Jack shook his head. "Not for now - I got a free place to sleep here, and Miss Medda's given me another backdrop to finish. Besides, I don't want to take away a spot on the rooftop from one of the other fellas, 'specially with things bein' tight as it is."
It was a logical explanation, but Davey could read between the lines, and he sensed that Jack knew he could, too.
Well, the rally - and Jack's reunion with the other newsies - would come soon enough. Davey was about to start wrapping up the conversation to let Jack get back to his painting, when the newsie leader said abruptly, "I actually got a question for you too, Dave, if you's finished."
"Sure, Jack," Davey answered, a little caught off guard. "What is it?"
"Well…" Jack scratched his head. "Last night, I kinda got to thinkin'...what if we was to invite Pulitzer to come?"
"Come...to the rally?" Davey asked, failing to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
"Yeah." Jack nodded. "Give him a chance to speak with the fellas himself, ya know? Maybe if he sees us up close - real faces, real bodies - it'll finally get through to him that we's not just some penniless nobodies playin' strike."
"I...I suppose I could see the advantage of that," Davey agreed reluctantly. Something about the idea didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on why. It was a reasonable proposition - the kind that Davey himself would have usually been on board with since it favored negotiation and building trust rather than defaulting to angry defiance.
Why, then, did it unsettle him so much?
It was probably just his own predisposition to worst-case-scenario thinking, he concluded quickly. There was a reason why Jack was the leader of the newsies and Davey was not.
"If you think it's a good idea, Jack, then I say we give it a shot," he said, pushing aside his qualms. "Were you thinking of sending a written invitation?"
"Nah," Jack shook his head. "Figured I'd go speak to him myself."
That idea somehow alarmed Davey even more, but he didn't say so. "All right," he agreed. "That sounds good. I'll leave a spot in the program for Pulitzer to address the newsies, and you can let me know after you've spoken to him whether or not he's agreed." It was unlikely that the powerful newspaper owner would even deign to have an audience with Jack, let alone the newsies (there was Davey's pessimistic outlook again), but he would let Jack run with his idea. It couldn't hurt, he supposed.
Unless…
"Jack," he said hesitantly, "do you think that there's any chance Pulitzer might try to break up the rally if he knows where it's being held?"
A surprised look crossed Jack's face. Apparently, he hadn't considered the possibility.
"I'm all for face-to-face diplomacy," Davey said quickly, not wanting to discourage the newsie leader too much, "but I'm just not sure that Pulitzer won't take advantage of the goodwill gesture to try to stamp out the strike. It'd be the perfect place for him to make a big statement with all of the city's other newsies being there, too."
"Yeah...guess we gotta be careful of that," Jack agreed, his brow furrowing. He was silent for a moment, and if Race had been present, no doubt he would have made a sarcastic comment about the metaphorical smoke that he could smell whenever Jack put his mind to thinking.
"What if I don't mention to him where we's gonna have the rally?" Jack suggested finally. "If he agrees to speak, I'll tell him one of the fellas will come by his office to walk him over."
It wasn't a completely foolproof solution...but it was better than giving away their location altogether.
"That would probably help," Davey said warily. He'd been hoping that Jack would have abandoned the plan, but the newsie leader seemed determined to go through with it, and Davey respected him enough not to oppose him any more on the subject. "When were you planning to visit Pulitzer, Jack?"
"Probably tomorrow," the other boy answered. "Miss Medda's havin' a show here tonight, so I gotta hurry and finish this backdrop - plus, I gotta think about what I'm gonna say to the old man." He grinned at Davey. "Probably hard for you to believe, Dave, but we ain't all smooth talkin' and good with words like you. Hey!" he exclaimed, a sly look spreading across his face, "You sure you don't wanna just give the openin' speech for the rally yourself? Whaddya need me for, anyway?"
"Don't say that, Jack," Davey answered, more vehemently than the mild teasing warranted. He hated public speaking - even just the thought of it was terrifying - and if there was one thing that he knew for sure, it was that no one was going to get him in front of that crowd of newsies. It was one thing to address the smaller group of Manhattan boys - it was quite another to try to motivate an entire theater full of strangers.
"Okay, okay, calm down," Jack chuckled. "You'd think I was suggestin' walkin' barefoot over hot coals or somethin', not just givin' a little speech."
"It's practically the same thing for me," Davey answered humorlessly, still trying to calm the slight anxiety brought on by the other boy's joking suggestion.
"Well, you don't haf'ta worry," Jack reassured him. "I gotcha covered, alright?"
Davey shot him a look. "Yeah, well...you'd better," he muttered.
Jack only smiled.
"Hey," he said, obligingly changing the subject, "you gonna be seein' Katherine any time soon?"
"I wasn't planning on it," Davey answered. "Why?"
Jack pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket. "I'm takin' her out to see a show on Saturday before the rally - told her I'd let her know when I figured out all the details." He glanced at Davey. "I was gonna go tell her myself, but with Miss Medda needin' this extra backdrop done before tonight…" he trailed off.
"Sure, Jack," Davey said, holding out his hand for the paper. "I can stop by The Sun on my way home and give Katherine your message." He probably ought to tell the reporter that the date for the rally was confirmed, anyway. He wasn't sure if she was planning to be there or not, and he wouldn't bore her with the details of what was being planned behind the scenes, but at least he could give her the option to attend if she desired. She was just as much a part of the strike as they were.
"Thanks for doin' that, Dave," Jack said gratefully as he handed over the paper with the show's details written down. "I owe ya one."
"We'll call it even," Davey answered, "since you're keeping me from having to speak at the rally. I'm pretty sure I'm getting the better end of the deal." He tucked the paper into his pocket, then instinctively spat in his hand and held it out, surprised to find himself almost not quite disgusted. "You'll update me after your meeting with Pulitzer?" he asked.
Jack spat in his own hand. "Yup. I'll be in touch," he promised with a grin. "Talk to ya soon, Dave," he said.
And the two of them shook on it.
A/N: I'm pretty sure that no one has ever devoted this many pages of fanfiction to the logistics of the rally, but if you're still hanging in there with me, my newsie cap's off to you ;) Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Your feedback is much appreciated.
'Till next time, gracious readers!
