Chapter 50: Victory
"Davey," Katherine said shortly, "if you don't stop moving right now, I'm going to call over some of the boys to sit on you. I know that you're worried about Jack, but this pacing isn't helping anyone."
Race smirked to himself as Davey gave the former reporter an irritated look before he obediently ceased his restless movement, crossing his arms over his chest instead and looking out of sorts as he struggled to find some other way to express his anxious energy.
Katherine strode over to where Race had hunkered down with his back against the wall, idly observing the scene as he fiddled with his unlit cigar.
"Race," she commanded. "Go talk to him."
Then she walked off.
And that was when Race knew that she was nervous, too.
Obligingly, he stuck his cigar into his pocket, got to his feet, and sauntered over to where Davey was standing, staring up at the dome of The World.
"What're you so worried about, Dave?" Race asked, deciding to cut to the chase. "You's about to drive Katherine batty."
"I can't help it," Davey answered tersely. "Last time I let Jack face Pulitzer alone was when he ended up getting forced into that deal to speak against the strike and betray us. Pulitzer almost got into his head again when we were up there earlier. I just feel like the first time was my fault - I should have gone with Jack, or stopped him, or something. I don't want anything to happen to him again."
"Weren't nothin' you could've done," Race remarked sensibly. "Jacky-boy's always kept his own counsel and done what seems best to him."
"But I should have - "
"Stow the seriosity, Dave," Race interrupted. "Save it for when somethin' bad actually happens, all right?"
Davey frowned. "If we all adopted a reactionary stance to things rather than a precautionary one, the world would be in trouble," he retorted, anxiety making his incisiveness more biting than normal.
"The World is in trouble," Race quipped. "I bet'cha anything Jacky's got Pulitzer on the ropes right now."
Davey said nothing, clearly not in the mood for puns and determined that no amount of optimism would deny him his right to be vexed.
Race shrugged, then walked off, leaving his friend to stew. An attempt at reassurance had been made, but there was only so much that he could do.
Up and down Park Row, everywhere he looked, there were newsies - newsies from his own contingent, newsies from other boroughs, familiar faces and faces that were unknown to him. Some were actively protesting outside of The World, voices and signs and banners raised. Others stood by quietly, clustered in small groups slightly away from the action as they waited for an update on the negotiations taking place. Still others had opted to find ways to amuse themselves as they passed the time.
Sniper and Finch had just begun a game of marbles, and several other boys were crowding around to watch. Les, who had somehow managed to talk his way out of attending school that day to be present at the protest, ran over to join them, and Race shot a look over his shoulder at Davey, remembering the lighthearted banter that had taken place between himself and the newest newsie on the day of Davey's initiation into the lodging house. It had come up then that the dark-haired boy was a proficient player of marbles, and Race had been wanting to challenge him to a game ever since then.
Now, however, was probably not the best time to call next.
Race bypassed the small circle of newsies crowded around the just-formed marbles match and continued walking. He caught sight of a few other boys from the Manhattan lodging house sitting on a small patch of lawn, huddled around a deck of cards. Artie, who was on the fringes of the group, waved him over.
"You gonna get in on this, Race?" the ex-scab called. "The fellas say you's the one to beat around here."
Race gave the poker game a longing glance. Elmer, Buttons, Romeo, Mush - he knew he'd have an edge if he decided to join in, regardless of the hand that he was dealt - none of the younger boys were any good at bluffing, and Mush had a terrible poker face - but with Jack gone to negotiate with Pulizter and the conclusion of the strike still up in the air, the responsible thing to do would be to stay uninvolved for now.
"Wish I could," Race answered regretfully. "But I'm gonna pass."
The other newsies looked surprised.
"You never pass on poker, Race!" Elmer exclaimed. "You feelin' all right?"
"Hey, let him be, Elm!" Romeo admonished. "It's better for us if Racer ain't playin' - you know he always wins."
"That's true," Mush conceded.
"And don't you bummers forget it," Race muttered, pulling out his cigar and forcing himself to turn and walk away before the growing temptation to throw duty out the door got the better of him.
To his surprise, Artie jumped to his feet and followed.
"You feelin' good about the outcome of the strike, Race?" he asked conversationally. "Think Pulitzer's gonna finally back down?"
"That's the hope." Race's fingers twitched. He wanted to light his cigar, but he knew that if Artie was going to be in a chatty mood, there was little chance of being able to smoke in peace. He tucked the roll of tobacco back into his pocket. "You still glad you joined up with us, seein' how it's all played out?" he asked the other newsie.
"Think so," Artie answered. He inclined his head in the direction of the poker game that they'd just left. "Seems like a good group of fellas. Wouldn't mind gettin' back to sellin' soon though - I sure could use the money."
"Ain't that the truth," Race sighed.
They ambled along in silence for a moment longer, and Race caught sight of a group of newsies from the Bronx, Calico and Gar among them, clustered around the statue of Horace Greeley in Newsie Square.
"Hey, didn'tcha say you was from the Bronx?" he asked, a vague memory resurfacing of something that Artie had said on the way to Sheepshead.
"Sold over there for a while," the other newsie affirmed. "Why?"
Race gestured to the group assembled near the statue. "Figured you might wanna come with me to say hello."
Artie gave the coterie a quick glance. "Probably better I don't," he said, sounding a little intimidated.
"Aw, come on," Race grinned. "Ain't nothin' to be afraid of - they's a canny bunch, but most of 'em don't bite. Bet'cha they'd want to catch up with one of their own."
"I wasn't part of their lodging house when I sold over there," Artie reminded him. "They ain't gonna know me from Adam."
Race gave a little snort of disbelief. "Pretty sure Calico knows everyone sellin' in her territory, even if you ain't aware that she knows about you."
Artie shook his head. "Better I don't," he repeated more forcefully.
Race shrugged. "All right then, suit yourself." It wasn't the newsie way to pry, so he wouldn't question further. There were a number of good reasons why a fellow wouldn't want to be reminded of the past - he certainly knew that well enough.
He was about to suggest that they circle back to see how the marbles game between Finch and Sniper was going, when suddenly there was an uproar from the newsies who had been actively protesting outside of The World. Race turned, and saw that the doors to the building had swung opening. He saw Katherine and Davey hurry towards the entrance as the rest of the newsies crowded in and Les pushed his way to the front of the throng.
And then Jack walked out of the building, Pulitzer just behind him.
"Newsies of New York City!" Jack bellowed, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs leading down to the street. Les ran over to his side, eager to hear the news, and Jack knelt down to whisper something in the younger boy's ear as the crowd quieted, straining to hear the result of the negotiations.
Then Jack hoisted Les onto his shoulders, and the voice of the smallest newsboy rang loudly through the air.
"We won!"
As soon as the victorious words left Les' mouth, celebration erupted all over. Davey felt himself being jostled left and right as the newsies whooped and hollered, jumping up and down and embracing each other and shouting at the top of their lungs. Newspaper Row was bursting with the sights and sounds of exuberant triumph, and the collective jubilation was almost overwhelming.
Davey felt his throat suddenly constrict a little, and tears sprang to his eyes as he felt a wave of relief wash over him.
It was over.
It was over, and they'd won. Everything that they'd worked so hard for, every frustration and fear, every agonizing decision...it had all come together. They'd done it.
Someone pounded him heartily on the back, and Davey quickly blinked back his involuntary show of emotion and mustered up a smile before turning to see that it was Race.
"We did it, Dave!" the gambler crowed, pulling the surprised Davey into a hug that had the latter almost tearing up again (and telling himself sternly that he would not - would not - let himself cry in front of the other newsie).
But before he could attempt to say anything in return, Jack was rushing over, Katherine not far behind him, and then the rest of the newsies crowded in, and for a moment all was a flurry of excitement and confusion and relief until suddenly Spot spoke up.
"Hey Jacky...you seein' what I think I'm seein'?"
Everyone turned in the direction the Brooklyn leader was looking, and Davey's eyes widened in surprise as he saw a carriage coming down Park Row, Governor Roosevelt seated inside, and beside him was the very familiar figure of -
"Crutchie!" Race cried out, his voice breaking in excitement. "It's Crutchie! It's him!"
"Heya fellas!" Crutchie called out as the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the excited newsies. "Guess who escaped The Refuge in the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage?" He was grinning from ear to ear. "Jack ain't the only one who can tell that story anymore!" Winking, he grabbed his crutch and stood, pausing for a moment to say something to Roosevelt while the rest of the newsies waited impatiently for their friend to disembark.
Jack turned to Katherine in disbelief. "How…?" he began.
"I may have mentioned Crutchie to Governor Roosevelt while we were on our way here to negotiate with my father," she answered, smiling a little. "I didn't know what he was planning to do...but I'm glad that he acted so quickly."
"And you ain't the only one!" Race exclaimed, shaking his head as a grin spread across his face. "You's an angel, Kath."
Jack didn't say anything, but Davey could see the gratitude in his eyes.
By this time, Crutchie had managed the dismount from the carriage, and the newsies crowded forward, eager to greet their friend whom they'd been sorely missing for the past two weeks, but before any of them could reach him, Jack was there, enveloping the rescued newsie in a bone-crushing hug.
The rest of the boys weren't far behind.
Davey watched them, hesitating a little at the edge of the group. He was glad that Crutchie was back and seemed to be in good spirits, even if he looked a little worse for wear, but it almost seemed wrong to jostle in with the rest of the crowd. He wasn't nearly as close to Crutchie as the other newsies were, and it seemed only right to let the rest of them have their turn first -
But before he could hang back any longer, someone (he never figured out who) pulled him into the collective embrace, and he gave up trying to figure out exactly what the proper protocols should have been in that moment.
Maybe they didn't really matter so much after all.
"Ya know, it gets better too," Crutchie said, his voice taking on a mischievous tone as he pulled back just slightly.
"Better, huh?" Jack was still looking at him as though he still couldn't believe that he was there, in the flesh, safe and sound. "How's that?"
Crutchie looked over his shoulder at Roosevelt, who was standing off to the side a few feet away, watching the proceedings with a smile. "Can I tell 'em now, Mister Governor?" Crutchie asked excitedly. "About...you know?"
The burly man nodded, and Crutchie turned back to the newsies. "I ain't the only one who rolled out of The Refuge in the back of a carriage," he disclosed. "Snyder the Spida got carted out too - but instead of comin' here to greet you all, he's on his way straight to the slammer!"
"Ya serious?" Race demanded eagerly.
Crutchie nodded. "The governor said he's gonna be investigatin' what Snyder's been up to. If he finds out what's been goin' on at The Refuge ain't right, they's gonna shut it down for good!"
This time, Race was the one who was left speechless.
The other boys, however, had no trouble giving voice to their elation.
"Finally, the Spida's gettin' what he deserves!"
"Sure wish I could've seen that coot get hauled off!"
"He ain't gonna be botherin' anyone else for a while!"
Jack said nothing at first, but Davey saw him turn towards Roosevelt with a look of gratitude.
"Thank you, Governor," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.
The politician smiled in return. "You have yourself to thank, son," he declared. "It was your drawings - the ones that Ms. Plumber brought to my attention - that instigated Mr. Snyder's arrest. As your friend has said, we'll be investigating his abuses - and the conditions at The Refuge - very closely in the near future."
The newsies murmured their elation and gratitude, still a bit in awe of the burly politician, but excited at the thought that the man who had caused them so much grief would soon be behind bars, and that if all went well, the place that had been synonymous with heartache and pain would soon close its doors for good.
Roosevelt acknowledged their words of thanks with a gracious smile. "I'm glad all's been set to rights," he declared. "You young people should be proud of what you have achieved. With this strike, you've proven that it's never too early to begin striving for change. You have accomplished a great victory today...but remember that the greatest triumph is not in the success, but in the endeavor. The credit belongs to those who are actually in the arena, who strive valiantly...and spend themselves in a worthy cause…whether or not they win the day when the dust has finally settled. Our world needs your zeal, action, and idealism to galvanize us from complacency, and if you continue to fight for the betterment of our society and our world, the future ahead will be bright for all! So do not shy away from daring to do the impossible, and do not give up on your dreams. Believe you can…" his eyes swept around the group of newsies, "and you're halfway there."
With a final smile and a nod to Jack, Roosevelt started towards his carriage, but before he reached it, a voice cut dryly through the crowd.
"Bravo, Governor. Bravo."
Everyone turned in surprise to see Pulitzer making his way towards them.
"An inspired bit of allocution, advocating for the involvement of our young people in the business of running things and inciting change," Pulitzer continued, a cunning gleam in his eyes as he came to stand next to the politician. "But I wonder if you would be so supportive of their zeal and idealism if they were investigating your dealings, rather than those of your opponents."
Pulitzer smiled his humorless smile, then turned to Jack. "You're quite the artist, Mr. Kelly. What do you say to a job at The World as a political cartoonist? You seem to like giving your opinion on things; how would you like to be on the front lines of journalism and social commentary? You'd be exposing some of the darkest secrets of our government's civic leaders - starting, perhaps, with our friend the governor here. And you'd be handsomely paid for your trouble."
Roosevelt was about to say something, but Jack spoke up first. "Hey, it's okay, Gov," he said quickly. "I ain't gonna be a problem."
Pulitzer frowned, but before he could say anything more, Roosevelt pointedly suggested that if accusations and threats were going to be levied, they ought to at least be exchanged without unnecessarily involving "the children."
Accordingly (and unwillingly on Pulitzer's part), the two men walked off, leaving the newsies alone.
"Well, if that don't beat all…" Race muttered, watching them retreat. "Hey, speakin' of Pulitzer, Jacky, what'd he say about the pape prices? He gonna roll them back?"
"Yeah," Jack nodded. "The terms of our deal was that the price would be reduced to fifty-five cents per hundred, which ain't as much as we was hopin' for, but The World's also gonna start buyin' back whatever we don't sell at the end of the day."
"You mean pape buybacks?" Elmer exclaimed. "We's been wantin' that for a long time!"
Jack nodded again, smiling a little at the younger boy's excitement. "There ain't no risk in takin' a few extra papes now, fellas," he proclaimed. "It's a compromise you all can live with, right?"
The newsies chorused their agreement.
"Good." Jack looked satisfied. "So now that everything's been settled…" he adjusted his cap on his head, his voice and expression abruptly changing, "I, ah, thought I'd be headin' over to Grand Central." He cracked an unconvincing half-smile. "I got a train waitin' for me, and a dream to chase out West."
Stunned silence greeted his declaration.
Wait - wait, what? Where did that come from? Davey thought. The sudden about-face seemed completely absurd. Hadn't they just won the strike? Hadn't they just gotten Crutchie back? Was Jack really thinking of packing up and leaving now? Davey's utter disbelief overrode his characteristic reticence, and he found himself suddenly speaking out.
"I don't get it, Jack!" he exclaimed. "I mean, I could see why the thought of going West might be thrilling...but practically speaking, there's nothing really out there in Santa Fe right now, just a lot of...tarantulas. And sandstorms." Perhaps that wasn't exactly true, but the logic still held, even if the examples were a bit faulty. "Why don't you at least wait another fifteen years or so until they've built the place up a little more?" he suggested, hoping a bit of logical persuasion would get Jack to see reason.
"And in the meantime, we's better than a dust bowl and a buncha hairy spiders, right Jack?" Crutchie gave the newsie leader a little shove in the arm. "Maybe we's a handful...and maybe we gets on your nerves sometimes...but we's your brothers." His voice took on a note of gentle pleading. "Ya can't just go leavin' us like that."
"You better not go leavin' us like that," Race muttered forcefully from behind him.
Jack's expression wavered as his gaze darted between the three of them, then took in the rest of the newsies standing silently by. He said nothing, but Davey saw a look of conflicted indecision cross his face, and it was clear that his resolution to go had been shaken by the opposition voiced by his brothers, and perhaps even by the wordless dejection of those who hadn't spoken up.
After a moment, Jack turned to Katherine, looking into her eyes as though trying to find the answers that he sought.
"It's your choice," she said simply, giving him a little smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I think you've got some pretty compelling reasons to stay in New York…" she gestured to the newsies, "but if you're heart's set on going to Santa Fe, I'll be there too, right by your side."
Jack looked amazed at the thought. "That so?" he asked, almost faintly.
Katherine nodded. "That's so," she declared firmly.
Davey held his breath, waiting to see what Jack would decide. He almost wished that Katherine hadn't been so quick to divulge her willingness to follow Jack wherever he went (the newsie leader might have been more willing to stay in New York if he thought that his friends and his sweetheart would be in Manhattan and in Manhattan only), but he knew that it was best for Katherine to say whatever she felt was necessary. It was Jack's choice, after all, and he needed to make his decision fully aware of all of his options. He'd been through a lot, and if he really felt that it was the best time for him to leave, well, they would miss him, of course, but Davey at least knew that he could find it in himself to respect the other newsie's decision, even if that decision didn't make any sense to him.
Still, if Jack did decide to leave...things would be in a bit of a mess. Race (only recently released from the unwanted yoke of leadership) would not be eager to reassume command of the newsies, and Davey himself knew that he wasn't experienced enough to handle that kind of responsibility. One of the other newsies could perhaps step up; Crutchie seemed to be the most logical choice, but given all that he'd been through over the past two weeks (compounded by the devastation that he'd likely feel from losing Jack), it might be too much to ask. If the newsies went without a leader, even temporarily, how would that look to Spot and the rest, when the Manhattan lodging house had only just recently begun to regain their respect? Equally concerning, if Pulitzer knew that Jack was out of the picture (and Katherine too), would he try to raise the price of the papers again? And how would the younger newsies - Les included - cope with Jack's sudden departure? How could such a departure even be explained? They'd have to figure out some way to make sure that -
"Hey, look!" Les exclaimed, bringing an abrupt halt to Davey's rapidly growing consternation. He turned in the direction that his younger brother was pointing and saw that Jack and Katherine had moved a few feet away and were kissing none-too-discreetly (though it was clear that they'd tried to put at least a little distance between themselves and the rest of the newsies).
"Guess your logical arguments must've worked on him, Dave," Race jibed as he sauntered over, pulling out his cigar.
"Pretty sure it was your subtle threat that did the job," Davey replied, shaking his head in dismay.
They really were chopped liver next to Katherine. They might as well accept it by now.
"Hey, it's all right," Crutchie said softly as he hobbled over to join them, a smile spreading across his face. "He's gonna stay - I can tell."
"Like I said, that bummer better stay," Race reiterated, lighting his cigar. "He don't really have a good reason to leave, anyway - he just got offered the chance of a lifetime in that job of Pulitzer's. He'd be a nitwit not to take it."
"You think he's going to?" Davey asked.
Race shrugged. "Why not? The World is his erster. Havin' a cushy job like that has gotta beat sweatin' and sneezin' out here on the streets, and then he won't haf'ta worry about gettin' too old to be a newsie and findin' himself out of a job. Jacky's always loved drawin' - if Pulitzer thinks he's good enough, I betcha other papes is gonna want his services too, and then he can charge top dollar for his drawin's or work exclusively for whoever's gonna give him the best deal. Then he'll be rakin' in the dough real quick, and probably gettin' famous besides, with his drawings bein' published in the papes."
"I guess that does make sense," Davey acknowledged, hoping that the optimism of the other two newsies would prove to be warranted, and that Jack would indeed stay. "I'd imagine having a more stable income would help make things easier if he intends to pursue his relationship with Katherine."
"Seems like that's the plan,'" Race agreed, eyeing the still-kissing couple with a look of mild amusement. "Guess we's gonna have more than enough excitement around here to keep things interesting, even with the strike bein' over."
Davey had the uncanny feeling that Race's dry remark was going to be the understatement of the turn-of-the-century, but he couldn't put his finger on why, so he let it go. Things would be back to normal soon enough, but in the meantime, there was still much work to do.
As if on cue, Weasel's bellowing voice suddenly rang out: "Papes for the newsies! Line up, boys, and get'cha papes!"
Davey turned to see that several wagons bearing copies of The World had rolled into Newsie Square. Clearly, Pulitzer was impatient for his employees to get back to work and had brought the newspapers to them rather than electing to wait for the crowd to trickle over to the distribution center.
Race grinned, eager to get to selling. "That's us, fellas!" he exclaimed, straightening his cap on his head. "Come on - bet'cha dinner I can trick Weasel into spottin' me fifty papes right outta the gate!" He sauntered off in the direction of the wagons, whistling as he went.
"Nice to see that Race hasn't changed," Crutchie remarked as he and Davey followed at a slower pace. "I have a feelin' there's a lot I'll haf'ta get caught up on, but right now, just seein' you all is good enough for me."
Davey smiled in reply. Leave it to the plucky, optimistic Crutchie to shift the focus away from himself and onto his brothers. Davey wasn't sure if it was just the other newsie's nature to do so, or if it was his way of re-orienting himself after the trials that he'd endured in The Refuge, but he could sense the simple contentment in Crutchie's voice, and he couldn't help but settle into a feeling of peaceful satisfaction himself.
He didn't know Crutchie well at all, but he could understand now why Jack was so attached to the younger newsie. There was a kind of quiet strength about him.
The two of them got in line to purchase their papers, and Davey felt an odd sense of déjà vu as Les ran over, shouldering his way into the queue. Had it really been only two weeks ago that they'd been doing this very same thing for the first time? It felt oddly familiar: there was Race, heckling the exasperated Weasel, there were the Delancey brothers, sneering and scornful, and there were the newsies - boys whose names Davey hadn't even known at the time but who had now become friends and allies and co-laborers in what had become something so much bigger than themselves.
The strike had changed everything. And yet, in the strangest way, nothing had changed.
The line inched forward as the newsies paid for their papes, and Davey found himself wondering, in the same way that he had on his first day as a newsboy, how many copies he ought to buy. Twenty - he'd barely managed to sell twenty. But that was before. Before the strike, before the rally, before the compromise and the buyback policy, before becoming who he was now, still the same and yet, in the smallest but most significant way, unalterably changed...
He watched as Les purchased his bundle of papers, and then it was his turn.
Davey stepped up to the head of the line, fished his coins out of his pocket, then placed them down on the money box, hesitating only a moment before saying firmly, "I'll take fifty newspapers, please."
