The Newsies Decide To Strike

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Jack's POV

"Jack? What are you sketching?" Les' voice made me jump out of my trance.

"Oh, ummm. . ." I cleared my throat when I saw the picture I had been working so deliberately on was a rough sketch of Rose. "Nothing."

"You sketchin' that Rose girl, again?" Specs teased.

"You really can't get her out of your head, huh?" Davey laughed.

"Shut up," I said before hiding my drawings and finishing gettin' ready for the day.

**********

I walked to Newsie's Square to see everyone talking. "All right, what are you all waiting around here for?"

"Hey, Jack, get a load of this." Crutchie said, pointing at the chalk board with today's headline.

"Like Pulitzer don't make enough already," Romeo added.

"Papes for the Newsies." Weasel announced.

"Hey, relax. It's gotta be a gag." I laughed.

"Line up, boys!" He yelled.

"Hey, good joke, Weasel. You really had the fellas going." I said as I walked over to get my papes. "I'll take 100. Be on my way." I put my money in front of him and waited for him to hand me my papes, but he didn't.

"100 will cost you 60," Weasel corrected.

I count stop the scoff that escaped my lips. "I ain't payin' no 60."

"Well, then make way for someone who will," Weasel said with a smirk that I wanted more than anything to wipe off his face.

"You bet," I said taking my money back. "Me and the fellas will take a hike over to The Journal."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! I'll save you the walk." Specs said, stopping me. "They upped their price, too."

"Then we'll take our business to The Sun," I said rolling my shoulders.

"Same all around town," Weasel corrected. "New day. New price."

"Hey, hey. Why the jack-up?" I said, clenching my fists.

"Well, for them kind of answers, you gotta ask further up the food chain." Weasel smirked. "So. . . You buyin' or movin' on?" I sent him a glare before quickly turning around.

"Come here, fellas. Get over here."

"They can't just do that, can they?" Albert asked.

"Hey, why not?" Asked Elmer. "It's their paper."

"It's their world," Crutchie mumbled.

"Ain't we got no rights?" Romeo asked.

"We got the right to starve. Let's just get out papes and hit the streets while we still can." Crutchie looked at me for back-up, but I just couldn't give it him.

The guy started yelling in objection, some in agreement until I shushed them. "Hey! Nobody's paying no new nothing."

"You got an idea?" Asked Albert in an accusing tone.

"Would you keep your shirt on? Let me think this through." The boys continued shouting.

"Stop crowding him!" Les yelled, making everyone back up a little. "Let the man work it out!" It was quiet for a few seconds while I tried to think my way out of it. "Hey, Jack, you still thinking?"

"Sure he is. Can't you smell smoke?" Race teased.

"Hey," I said ignoring his comment. "Hey, hey, hey. Come here. Hurry up. All right, here's the deal.If we don't sell papes, nobody sells papes. Nobody gets to that window til they put the price back where it belongs."

"What? You mean like a strike?" Davey joked.

"Well, hey, you heard Davey, we're on strike!"

"Hold on, I didn't say that."

"We shut down this place just like them workers shut down the trolleys."

"And the cops will bust our heads," Albert interrupted. "Half of them strikers is laid up with broke bones."

"Cops ain't gonna care about a bunch of kids.Right, Davey?" I asked, turning towards him.

"Leave me out of this. I'm just here trying to feed my family." Davey reached for Les's hand and started to leave.

"What? And the rest of us is here on play time?" I asked as I followed them. "Hey, hey. Just 'cause we only make pennies don't give them the right to rub our noses in it."

"It doesn't matter," he sighed. "You can't strike. You're not a union."

"What if I says we is?" I scoffed.

"There's a lot of stuff you gotta have in order to be a union. Like membership."

"What do you call these guys?" I laughed, turning towards the boys behind me. I held back another laugh as the boys jokingly waved to him.

"And officers," he added.

"I nominate Jack president!" Cruthcie said with a big smile on his face.

"Gee, I'm touched."

"How about a statement of purpose?" Davey stuttered.

"Yeah," I scoffed. "I must've left that in my other pants."

"What's a statement of purpose?" Race hesitated.

"A reason for forming the union," Davey explained.

"Well, what reason do the trolley workers have?" I asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Wages, work hours, safety on the job."

"Who don't need that? Hey. I bet if your father had a union, you wouldn't need to be out here selling papes right now, yeah?"

"Yeah"Davey said under his breath.

"So! Our union is nearby formed to watch each other's backs. Union'd we stand. Hey, that's not bad. Somebody write that down."

"I got a pencil," Les said reaching in his bag and pulling out a pencil.

"Well, meet our Secretary of State." I laughed, patting him on his shoulder. "Now what?"

"If you want a strike," Davey started, "the membership's got to vote."

"Okay, so we'll vote," I shrugged. "What do you say, fellas? The choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets or do we strike?"

"Strike!" The boys yelled.

"Yeah! You heard the voice of the membership. The Newsies of Lower Manhattan are officially on strike. What's next?"

"Wouldn't our strike be more effective is someone in charge knew about it?" Crutchie asked.

"Well, it would be a pleasure to tell Wiesel myself." Race said yelling towards Weasel.

"And who tells Pulitzers?" Romeo asked.

"Davey?" I said, making everyone turn back to Davey.

"I don't know," he sighed. "I guess you do, Mr. President."

"That's right," I smirked. "Hey, we do. . . So what... What do we tell him?"

"Well, the newspaper owners need to respect your right as employees." Davey said as he finally got into the idea of a strike.

"Yeah, yeah. Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the working kids of this city!" 

"Well, they can't just change the rules when they feel like it!" Davey added.

"Yeah, that's right. We do the work! So, we get a say!"

"Yeah!" The boys cheered.

Davey looked around before smiling. "We got a union!" 

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