The Last Rose of Summer

10

Davey entered Medda's Theatre and yelled down from the top, "How about letting a pal know you're alive! Where did you go? We couldn't find ya!"

"I'll leave you with your friend," Medda told Jack softly.

"Did you ever think I didn't wanna be found?" Jack retorted harshly.

"Is that a real place?" Davey asked. "That Santa Fe? Hey, did you see the papes? We're front page news. Above the fold. Oh yes. Above. The fold."

"Good for you."

"Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelly. Even Spot Conlon sent over a kid to say next event, you can count on Brooklyn. How 'bout that?"

"We got stomped into the ground."

"They got us this time, I'll grant you that. But we took round one. With press like this, our fight is far from over."

"Every newsie who could walk was out this mornin' sellin' papes like the strike never happened."

"And I was right there with 'em. If I don't sell papes, my folks don't eat, but-"

"Save your breath. I get it. It's hopeless."

"But then I saw this look on Weasel's face. He was actually nervous. And I realized; this isn't over! We got 'em worried -- really worried! -- And I walked away. And lots of other kids did too and that is what you call a beginning."

Les entered, followed by Katherine and Ellie.

"There he is, just like I said!" Les exclaimed.

"For cryin' out loud! What's a fella gotta do to get away from you people?" Jack asked with a frown.

"There's no escapin' us pal. We're inevitable," Davey returned.

"What's the hold up?" Les asked. "I need to let my girl know we got a date."

"Your girl?"

"You heard me. Been swattin' skirts away all mornin'. Fame is one intoxicating problem. And this here girl Sally, she's a plum."

"Word is you two wrote a great story," Jack said sarcastically when Katherine walked over to his painting.

Ellie looked at Jack worriedly. "Hey, you look like hell."

"Hey, Jack. Where's that supposed to be?" Les interrupted.

"It's Santa Fe," Davey informed.

Katherine let out a groan. "I gotta tell you, Jack. This "go west young man" routine is getting tired. Even Horace Greeley moved back to New York."

"Yes he did," Les agreed. "And then he died."

"Ain't reporters supposed to be non-partisan?" Jack asked as he turned back to Katherine and Ellie.

"Ask a reporter," Elle shot back. "Pulitzer's had me and Katherine blacklisted from every news desk in town."

"Can we table the palaver and get back to business? Will Medda let us have the theater?" Les wondered.

"Pipe down," Davey told him. "I didn't ask yet." He turned to Jack. "It's what I've been trying to tell ya. We want to hold a rally! A city-wide meeting where every newsies gets a say and a vote; and we do it after working hours so no one loses a day's pay. Smart?"

"Yeah. Smart enough to get you committed to a padded room," Jack muttered.

"The guy who paints places he's never seen is calling us crazy?" Katherine stated with offense.

"You wanna see a place I seen? How about this," Jack shot back with a growl as he turned the backdrop. The picture featured Pulitzer stomping on newsies. "Newsies Square. Thanks to my big mouth, filled to overflowing with failure. Kids hurt, others arrested."