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


Chapter 79: An Evening with Joseph Pulitzer

Jack shifted uncomfortably in the high-back wooden chair where he'd been seated, stealing an uneasy glance at the place setting in front of him and trying to count the forks without making it too obvious that he was doing so.

One, two, three...four.

Fish, meat, salad, and…?

He couldn't remember Davey mentioning a fourth fork. It was a short, stubby thing, half the size of the other flatware, and instead of sitting next to the others of its kind, it was resting in a spoon on the other side of Jack's plate.

What would anyone need such an absurd-looking thing for?

At least he could remember the functions of the other items on the table: the spoon was for soup, the knives and forks were for the fish, meat, and salad, the glass closest to him at his right was his water goblet, while others were for various types of wine, and the napkin…

The napkin was supposed to go in his lap.

Jack plucked the cloth square from his plate and unfolded it, setting it in its proper place and noticing belatedly that his two dining companions had already done so. Pulitzer, at Jack's right, was currently speaking to one of his servants about the dinner, and Jack's stomach growled in anticipation. The delicious smells wafting through the air were mostly foreign to him, but Katherine had told him that there would be several meats involved as well as an assortment of vegetables and perhaps even some fruit, and his hunger, accustomed to the rather unvarying diet of a newsie, was eager to be sated with whatever delicacies were lined up for the evening meal.

Pulitzer finished his conversation and turned back to his guests with a smile that Jack noticed didn't reach his eyes.

"Apologizes for the interruption," he said briskly, pulling his chair closer to the table. "I was just taking care of a few final details regarding our last course. It isn't fashionable to serve, of course, but I've ordered your favorite, Katherine: chocolate cream pie."

"That's your favorite, huh?" Jack forced a grin of his own. "Sure sounds appetizin'."

"Oh, Katherine loves chocolate in any form," Pulitzer assured him. He paused, then added thoughtfully, "I'm surprised you didn't know that."

There was a beat of silence.

"Jack and I have much more interesting things to talk about, Father," Katherine interjected quickly.

"I'm sure you do," Pulitzer replied, all agreeability. "I'm sure you do."

Before anything more could be said, the door at the back of the room opened, and several servants entered carrying covered dishes. The first of these turned out to be oysters, and Jack relaxed a little - he'd seen them before and had even eaten them on occasion, not very recently, but when he'd been a youngster who'd often spent his days down by the harbor where he'd regularly buy (or steal) his lunch from the street vendors who sold the seafood in both its cooked and pickled varieties.

The oysters facing him, however, were a different animal - they weren't conveniently baked into a pie or piled atop a slice of bread. Instead, they were sitting in their own shells, topped with a sprinkling of something (the purpose and flavor of which Jack could only guess at) and arranged next to a tiny dish of sauce that was the same deep red color as Katherine's hair.

Jack wasn't sure how to go about eating them. Should he scoop them up with the spoon? But no, the spoon was for soup, he knew that much. Should he pick the shell up with his hands and then slurp up the meat? It seemed like a logical choice, but not very polite, so that couldn't be the answer, either. And where did the sauce play in?

"You seem to be a bit hesitant, Mr. Kelly," Pulitzer's brusque voice broke into Jack's internal deliberation. "Are oysters not to your liking?"

"Nah, they's to my liking," Jack said uneasily. "I was just...admirin' the presentation, that's all." He quickly glanced across the table at Katherine and saw that she had picked up the half-sized fork at her right hand and was now using it to delicately drop a bit of sauce onto the oyster.

Clumsily, Jack followed suit, using the tiny utensil to dot the red condiment on top of the shellfish, then scooping out the slimy flesh as best he could before bringing the entire thing to his mouth as he copied Katherine's motions.

He could feel Pulitzer's eyes on him the entire time and resisted the urge to scowl. This was all Davey's fault; he hadn't told Jack about the oyster fork.

Thankfully, Katherine must have noticed Jack's discomfiture, for she smiled pleasantly and began conversing with her father, giving Jack a brief moment of reprieve to finish the rest of his appetizer. The oysters were barely a mouthful all told, but he forced himself to eat them slowly and carefully (though he still somehow managed to dribble sauce on the tablecloth, a blunder that he knew did not go unnoticed by Pulitzer).

The soup and fish courses passed by mostly without incident; Jack only slurped the former once, and though he wasn't particularly fond of the latter, he managed to finish it all without making any glaring mistakes. The little goblet of lemon-flavored ice that came next was another head-scratcher that Davey hadn't mentioned, but Jack surreptitiously copied Katherine's movements again, and managed to down whatever it was without any trouble.

Thankfully, the conversation around the table thus far had only been mildly unpleasant; Pulitzer was at ease and seemed to be in an agreeable mood, though he had a frustrating habit of asking questions the moment after Jack had just taken a bite of food. This forced Jack to either chew and swallow quickly or else be put in the awkward position of making his dining companions wait for his response while he finished masticating the food properly. It was a lose-lose situation, and though he hadn't thought much of the first time it had happened, by the third and fourth occurrence, he was sure that Pulitzer was doing it on purpose.

The newspaper owner also managed to bring up Darcy Reid not once, but twice before the main course was even served. He'd played it off as a casual inquiry, of course, merely asking if Katherine and Darcy still met for lunch regularly, and later wondering aloud if the "bright young man" was continuing to ascend the ranks at The Tribune, but Jack saw the seemingly innocuous aside for what it was: a reminder of the kind of men Pulitzer deemed fit to associate with his daughter, men who had real jobs, real opportunities for advancement, and real money behind their names.

A meat course followed the curious dish of lemon ice, and Jack, pleasantly surprised by the entree's deliciousness, had to stop himself from sighing in pleasure once the first bite of beef entered his mouth. This - this wonderfully tender and exquisitely flavored bit of heaven - was what his stomach had been hankering for. It was juicy and thick and so decadent that it almost made the detestable business of dining with Joe worth it!

"I see that the filet is more agreeable to you than the oysters," the man himself remarked dryly, giving Jack a disdainful look before taking a prim bite of his own beef. "Really, Katherine - " he turned to his daughter, " - you ought to take your beau out to eat every once in a while; it's clear he hasn't enjoyed a decent meal in a long time, and you have money to spare, so it must fall on you to - "

"Actually, we go out to eat plenty, Joe," Jack interrupted, a bit more loudly than necessary. He was getting tired of sitting by in silence while Pulitzer made jabs at his expense. "We both take turns payin', too," he added, "'Cause in our relationship we's equal partners, ya know?"

"Equal? Is that what you think?" Pulitzer raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused as though Jack had just told him that the country was run by leprechauns. "Fascinating." He took another bite of beef.

"How has business been at The World, Father?" Katherine asked.

"Excellent as always!" the man declared. "Our circulation is up, and our reporters have been writing some fantastic stories."

"Heard from a pal that The Journal's circulation's been risin', too," Jack said casually, spearing a seasoned potato. "Seems like everyone's doin' pretty well this November with the news bein' what it is."

Pulitzer's eyes narrowed, and Jack bit into the potato, inwardly awarding himself a point. Joe wasn't the only one who could play the game.

"I'd expect you to be a bit more proud of the business that employs you, Mr. Kelly," Pulitzer remarked coldly, "seeing as The World is what's keeping you fed and off the streets."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's my own hard work doin' that." Jack set down his fork for a moment, looking Pulitzer in the eye. "And I was only makin' an impartial observation, Joe." He smirked. "There ain't no reason for you to get so up in arms about it."

He could see Katherine's look of displeasure in his peripheral vision, but it didn't matter at this point - he was done letting Pulitzer taunt him while maintaining a veneer of civility. If they were going to trade barbs, they might as well do it above board like men.

The growing tension at the table was once again interrupted by the arrival of Pulitzer's servants bringing yet another dish from the kitchen. Jack finished his last bite of beef, remembering to set his utensils properly across his plate, then took a drink of water, thinking to himself that it was getting uncomfortably warm in the room (or maybe it was just the cursed suit giving him trouble again).

His plate was cleared away, and a second goblet of lemon ice was set in front of him. Jack ate it slowly, appreciating the coolness of the tart and minty treat. He still wasn't sure what it was for, but it was nice to have something chilled; it soothed his agitation somewhat, though of course it could only go so far.

There were probably only a few more courses left, but at the rate he and Pulitzer were going, it would be no surprise if the meal ended in a full-scale argument, manners or no manners.

Jack held back a frustrated sigh. He was more than ready for the night to be over.


The door to the Pulitzer mansion clicked shut, and Katherine made herself count to ten as she and Jack made their way down the steps to the street before she allowed herself to start speaking.

"Jack, what is wrong with you?" she snapped the moment they were out of the earshot of any possible eavesdroppers. "Was it your goal tonight to offend my father at every possible opportunity? Because if it was, congratulations! You've done it!"

"Hey, hey, hold on!" Jack protested, coming to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face her. "It takes both match and tinder to make a fire, and I wasn't the only one doin' the burnin', all right?"

Katherine felt her anger growing. "You couldn't put aside your squabble for one night, Jack? One night? My father was trying to be civil, but you didn't even try to talk to him politely."

"Civil?" Jack echoed, giving her a disbelieving look. "He was baitin' me the whole time! I let it pass once or twice, but I ain't gonna just let him walk all over me like I'm some street rat who ain't got no pride!"

"All he did was make a few remarks about the food. You were wolfing down that meat like you hadn't eaten in days! How could you expect him not to talk about it?"

"Oh, the food ain't all he talked about!" Jack retorted. "What about him bringin' up that upper-cruster at The Tribune every chance he got, huh? You think that was him just tryin' to make polite conversation?"

"Darcy's father is a colleague!" Katherine tried and failed to keep the exasperation out of her voice. "And my father was just asking after someone who's been my friend for years. That's all it was, Jack! Polite interest, and nothing more."

"Well, how do you think it felt to me, huh?" Jack scowled. "Hearin' about how that swell's climbin' the ladder, makin' somethin' of himself, probably gonna inherit his father's empire someday?"

"What was wrong with that?" Katherine asked pointedly. "Darcy's hard-working and intelligent. He's earned his success. And he should rightly be lauded for it."

"Well pardon me for not scrapin' and bowin' low enough, then," Jack sneered.

Katherine clenched her fists. "No one was asking you to do that," she bristled. "But it would be nice, Jack, if you could manage to listen to another man being praised for his accomplishments without making it some kind of pig-headed competition or personal slight! It's what professionals do, even if they don't like the person who's being celebrated!" She couldn't help adding, "I thought you'd at least be capable of that."

Jack's eyes blazed. "Are you sayin' you's ashamed of me?" he barked, stepping closer. "'Cause if you is, you oughta just come out and say it!"

"I never said I was ashamed of you, Jack!" Katherine snapped back, holding her ground. "Don't you dare make this about me!"

"It is about you, Plumber!" he shouted, causing several passers by to look in their direction. "Or should I say 'Pulitzer'? 'Cause right now I ain't sure whose side you's on!"

Katherine gritted her teeth in frustration, but forced herself to speak in a quieter tone so that they wouldn't attract any further attention. "That is unfair," she seethed, "and completely uncalled for."

"You know what's uncalled for?" Jack hissed. "Your father invitin' us over like he wants to make nice and all and then spendin' the whole evenin' rubbin in my face that I ain't good enough for ya!"

"He never said that - "

"He was sayin' it all night, Katherine!" Jack threw his hands in the air, his voice cracking just a bit. "I know what I heard!"

Katherine crossed her arms, wanting to snap back but trying her best to reign in her temper. She and Jack could rile each other up far too easily; they were both hot-headed and defensive when they thought they were in the right, and even though she wanted him to see reason, she also knew that they would get nowhere until they had both calmed down

"Why did you feel like you needed to bring up The Journal?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even. "You know that my father is extremely competitive with Hearst, and that even the mention of the man or his paper sends him into a foul mood. We were going to try to convince him to publish my article about The Refuge...and I thought that if it went well, maybe he'd even agree to let me start working as a reporter again." She hadn't told Jack about the last part, but she'd been secretly hoping for it, and it had been devastating to watch the dinner conversation go south almost as soon as it had begun. "Couldn't you have put aside your pride for that?"

There was a note of rawness in the last question, and she saw his expression soften just a bit.

"I didn't know you was plannin' on askin' him about your job," he muttered gruffly, dropping his gaze and scratching his head in a gesture that made him look more boy than man.

"I wanted to prioritize getting our article published, first," Katherine explained, attempting to keep her voice even.

Jack didn't say anything for a moment, but she could see the anger beginning to drain out of him almost as quickly as it had come.

"I guess I just don't get it," he said finally. "What kinda father blacklists his own daughter, even after he's already gotten what he wants? Seems like a rotten thing to do."

Katherine hesitated. "Our business relationship has always been kept separate from our family ties," she answered. "It's...complicated."

"Can't say I understand it," Jack said softly, and the simple bewilderment in his voice made Katherine's heart begin to melt. Of course he wouldn't understand it - he was too straightforward and single-mindedly passionate for that. The cold and convoluted world of business, rife with uncertain alliances and calculating decisions, wasn't something Jack could comprehend; he wasn't the kind to talk out of both sides of his mouth, or the kind to stay quiet because it worked to his advantage. He was the kind to stand up and speak out, the kind to jump headfirst into the fray with little thought to self-preservation.

And he was so, so very different from her father.

"I don't expect you to understand, Jack," she said, allowing some fondness to bleed into her voice this time. "And actually, I'm glad that you don't understand." He looked at her in surprise as she came close to him, putting a hand on his arm. "I love the fact that you don't let money sway you."

He cracked a smile. "Yeah, well...guess that's one of the few things I got goin' for me." He put his hand over hers, adding roguishly, "that, and my dashin' good looks."

She gave him a playful shove, and by unspoken agreement, they continued walking down the street, arm in arm this time.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Jack," Katherine confessed. "I wanted tonight to go well, and I was disappointed that it didn't."

"You and me both, Kath," Jack sighed. "I know it probably don't mean much, but I was tryin' - you can ask Davey if you don't believe me. I spent an hour over at his place learnin' how to eat proper before I met up with you tonight. Next time I see him, I'm gonna give him an earful, since he didn't warn me 'bout the oyster fork and the lemon ice desserts in the middle of the meal."

Katherine laughed. "Those are palate cleansers, Jack - they're supposed to remove the taste of whatever you ate previously so that you can have a blank slate to enjoy whatever's coming next."

"Ah, makes sense," Jack grinned. "Figures that'd be somethin' high-falutin' folks would do."

They walked in companionable silence for several blocks, each lost in their own thoughts, until they came to the street where Katherine's apartment was located.

"Jack, you know I'm not ashamed of you, right?" Katherine asked, wanting to make sure they were clear on the matter before they said goodnight. "Because I'm not. I may get frustrated with you at times, but I never think of you as someone who's beneath me. It's like what you told my father at dinner tonight - we're both equals in this relationship, and we always have been." She looked at him, wanting to make sure that he knew she was sincere.

"Yeah, I know," he said, a little ruefully. "I shouldn'tve brought that up - that and you bein' a Pulitzer. You ain't nothin' like the old man." His grin was a bit unsteady, but she could tell that he was trying to be cheerful for her sake. "He's gonna be sorry he missed out on the chance to publish your article, Kath," Jack added. "I know it's gonna be one helluva story."

"That's the plan," Katherine concurred, going along with his clear desire to shift the subject of their conversation. "I'm going to begin gathering testimonies from the newsies soon about their experiences in The Refuge while I wait to hear back from my contact at The Sun. Do you think it would be a problem if I stopped by the lodging house sometime next week? It may hold more weight with the editors if I have a rough draft of my article to show them, and the driving force of the story will be the anecdotal evidence I get from the newsies - that's what's going to get people to sit up and listen."

"Yeah, the boys'll have plenty to tell ya," Jack agreed. "And next week should be fine, just let me know so we can get the place cleaned up a little." He grinned. "We ain't used to havin' company."

Katherine nodded as they reached the front door of her apartment building. "Thank you for coming to dinner tonight, Jack," she said. "I know it wasn't a pleasant experience for you, but I appreciate you making the effort. And even if we didn't get my father to agree to publish my article if The Sun won't, we'll still find a way to make our voices heard."

"Yeah, there ain't no stoppin' us once we get goin'," Jack declared. "Both when we's fightin' each other and when we's workin' together." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Plumber. You's the only girl I'd wear one of these cursed suits for, so I hope that tells ya you's somethin' special." He winked at her, and Katherine shook her head fondly.

"Goodnight, Jack," she said, thankful that they were ending the night on good terms. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya tomorrow, Plums," he responded, taking a few steps backward and flashing her his trademark grin before he turned around and headed down the street.