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#(maybe it's worth a shot) years (all I can catch is fleas) old
music-in-my-veins14 · 2 months
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Curdled
Just give me half a cup
Blessed children
Coffee
Somethin' to wake me up
Concrete donuts
I gotta find an angle
Sprinkled with mold
It's gettin bad out there
Homemade
Papers is all I got
Jesus loves you
It's 88 degrees
Biscuits
Jack says to change my spot
Wish I could catch a breeze
Just two
Maybe it's worth a shot
All I can catch is fleas
Years old
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the-meme-monarch · 6 years
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me, looking at my half drank cup of coffee that's been sitting on the coffee table all day: curdled... (jus' gimme half a cup) coffee... (somethin' ta wake me up)
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love-pyramus · 3 years
Note
N
NAME: ___________________________________ ROLE: ____________________________________ 2 NEWSIES ACT ONE PROLOGUE: Rooftop, Dawn #1- Overture (Summer, 1899. A figure sleeps peacefully on a rooftop amid the moonlit Manhattan cityscape. It is JACK, a charismatic boy of seventeen. Across the rooftop, another figure stirs. CRUTCHIE, a slight and sickly boy of fifteen, walks with the aid of a wooden crutch. He crosses to the fire escape ladder and fumbles, trying to climb down. JACK stirs.) #2- Santa Fe (Prologue)- Jack, Crutchie JACK: Where you going? Morning bell ain’t rung yet. Get back to sleep. CRUTCHIE: I wanna beat the other fellas to the street. I don’t want anyone should see; I ain’t been walkin’ so good. JACK: Quit gripin’. You know how many guys fake a limp for sympathy? That bum leg of yours is a gold mine. CRUTCHIE: Someone gets the idea I can’t make it on my own, they’ll lock me up in The Refuge for good. Be a pal, Jack. Help me down. (loses his footing and almost falls, yelps.) Whoa!!!! (JACK rushes to CRUTCHIE’S rescue, pulling him back from danger.) JACK: You wanna bust your other leg, too? CRUTCHIE: No. I wanna go down. JACK: You’ll be down there soon enough. Take a moment to drink in my penthouse high above the stinkin’ streets of New York. CRUTCHIE: You’re crazy. JACK: Because I like a breath of fresh air? ‘Cause I like seein’ the sky and the stars? CRUTCHIE: You’re seein’ stars all right! JACK: Them streets down there sucked the life right outta my old man. Years of rotten jobs, stomped on by bosses. And when they finally broke him, they tossed him to the curb like yesterday’s paper. Well, they ain’t doin’ that to me. CRUTCHIE: But everyone wants to come here. JACK: New York’s fine for those what can afford a big strong door to lock it out. But I tell you, Crutchie, there’s a whole other way out there. So you keep your small life in the big city. Give me a big life in a small town. THEY SAY FOLKS IS DYIN’ TO GET HERE, ME I’M DYIN’ TO GET AWAY TO A LITTLE TOWN OUT WEST THAT’S SPANKIN’ NEW AND WHILE I AIN’T NEVER BEEN THERE I CAN SEE IT CLEAR AS DAY IF YOU WANT, I BET’CHA YOU COULD SEE IT TOO 3 CLOSE YOUR EYES, COME WITH ME WHERE IT’S CLEAN AND GREEN AND PRETTY AND THEY WENT AND MADE A CITY OUTTA CLAY WHY, THE MINUTE THAT YA GET THERE FOLKS’LL WALK RIGHT UP AND SAY ”WELCOME HOME, SON WELCOME HOME TO SANTA FE!” (CRUTCHIE is taken under JACK’S spell.) PLANTIN' CROPS, SPLITTIN' RAILS SWAPPIN' TALES AROUND THE FIRE 'CEPT FOR SUNDAY WHEN YOU LIE AROUND ALL DAY SOON YOUR FRIENDS ARE MORE LIKE FAMILY AND THEY'S BEGGIN' YOU TO STAY! AIN'T THAT NEAT? LIVIN' SWEET, IN SANTA FE CRUTCHIE: You got folks there? JACK: Got no folks nowhere. You? CRUTCHIE: I don’t need folks. I got friends. JACK: How’s about you come with me? No one worries about no gimp leg in Santa Fe. You just hop a palomino and ride in style. CRUTCHIE: Feature me: ridin’ in style. JACK: I bet a few months of clean air and you could lose that crutch for good. JACK & CRUTCHIE: SANTA FE, YOU CAN BET WE WON’T LET THEM TOUGH GUYS BEAT US WE WON’T BEG NO ONE TO TREAT US FAIR AND SQUARE THERE'S A LIFE THAT'S WORTH THE LIVIN' AND I'M GONNA DO MY SHARE JACK: WORK THE LAND, CHASE THE SUN JACK & CRUTCHIE: SWIM THE WHOLE RIO GRANDE JUST FOR FUN! CRUTCHIE: (stands on his own.) WATCH ME STAND! WATCH ME RUN... (CRUTCHIE realizes his recover is just a fantasy, and turns away from JACK.) JACK: Hey... (CRUTCHIE looks at him. JACK wraps his arms around his friend protectively.) DON'T YOU KNOW THAT WE'S A FAMILY? WOULD I LET YOU DOWN? NO WAY JUST HOLD ON, KID 'TIL THAT TRAIN MAKES SANTA FE (CRUTCHIE leans against JACK as the sun rises behind them. The church bell tolls 5 a.m., which breaks the spell.) JACK: Time for dreamin’s done. (JACK takes CRUTCHIE’S crutch and bangs it on the fire escape metal, sounding an alarm.) Hey! Specs, Racer, Henry, Albert, Elmer. Get a move on, boys. Them papes don’t sell themselves! #2A- Prologue (Playoff) SCENE ONE: Newsboys’ Lodging House & Newsie Square (RACE, a little tough guy, calls to the others as he dresses.)
4 RACE: Hey, Albert, Elmer, Specs! You heard Jack. Get a move on. (ALBERT appears next to him, still wiping the sleep from his eyes.) ALBERT: I was havin’ the most beautiful dream. My lips is still tingling. RACE: A pretty girl? ALBERT: A leg of lamb! #3- Carrying the Banner- Jack, Newsies, Nuns (More BOYS begin to appear as they dress and wash. ALBERT smokes a cigar.) RACE: Hey! That's my cigar! ALBERT: YOU'LL STEAL ANOTHER. SPECS: (Referring to the other BOYS,) HEY, LOOK, IT'S BATH TIME AT THE ZOO. HENRY: I THOUGHT THAT I'D SURPRISE MY MOTHER. ALBERT: If you can find her. NEWSIES: Who asked you? ALBERT: Papes ain’t movin’ like they used to. I need a new sellin’ spot. Got any ideas? RACE: FROM BOTTLE ALLEY TO THE HARBOR THERE'S EASY PICKIN'S GUARANTEED. FINCH: TRY ANY BANKER, BUM OR BARBER. THEY ALMOST ALL KNOWS HOW TO READ. JACK: IT'S A CROOKED GAME WE'RE PLAYIN', ONE WE'LL NEVER LOSE LONG AS SUCKERS DON'T MIND PAYIN' JUST TO GET BAD NEWS! (The NEWSIES move outdoors to the Newsie Square.) NEWSIES: AIN'T IT A FINE LIFE CARRYING THE BANNER THROUGH IT ALL! A MIGHTY FINE LIFE CARRYING THE BANNER TOUGH AND TALL. WHEN THAT BELL RINGS, WE GOES WHERE WE WISHES. WE'S AS FREE AS FISHES, SURE BEATS WASHIN' DISHES. WHAT A FINE LIFE, CARRYING THE BANNER HOME FREE ALL! (KATHERINE, a lovely young lady, walks by with a friend. ROMEO spots her and starts towards her, but JACK sees her too.) ROMEO: Well, hello, hello, hello, beautiful. JACK: Step back, Romeo. Nothin’ what concerns you here. (moves ROMEO aside and shoots to KATHERINE.) Morning Miss. Can I interest you in the latest news? KATHERINE: The paper isn’t out yet. JACK: I’d be delighted to bring it to you personally. KATHERINE: I’ve got a headline for you: “Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing for His Troubles!” (KATHERINE brushes past JACK and joins her friend.) ROMEO: Back to the bench slugger. You struck out. JACK: (Feigning pain) I’m crushed. FINCH: Hey, Crutchie. What's your leg say? Gonna rain? CRUTCHIE: (shakes his leg) No rain. Partly cloudy. Clear by evening. FINCH: They oughta bottle this guy. RACE: And the limp sells fifty papes a week all by itself. CRUTCHIE: I don't need the limp to sell papes. I got personality. IT TAKES A SMILE THAT SPREADS LIKE BUTTER 5 THE KIND WHAT TURNS A LADY'S HEAD. RACE: IT TAKES AN ORPHAN WITH A STUTTER, FINCH: WHO'S ALSO BLINDALBERT: AND MUTEELMER: AND DEAD! JACK & CRUTCHIE: SUMMER STINKS AND WINTER'S FREEZIN' WHEN YOU WORKS OUTDOORS. JACK, CRUTCHIE, BUTTONS, SPLASHER, & TOMMY BOY: START OUT SWEATIN', END UP SNEZIN', NEWSIES: IN BETWEEN IT POURS! STILL IT'S A FINE LIFE, CARRYING THE BANNER WITH ME CHUMS, (STILL IT’S A FINE LIFE, CARRYING THE BANNER) A BUNCH OF BIG SHOTS, TOSSIN' OUT A FREEBIE TO THE BUMS. (A BUNCH OF BIG SHOTS, TOSSIN’ OUT A FREEBIE) FINCH: (calling to the NEWSIES) HEY! WHAT'S THE HOLD UP? WAITIN' MAKES ME ANTSY. I LIKES LIVIN' CHANCEY NEWSIES: HARLEM TO DELANCEY. WHAT A FINE LIFE CARRYING THE BANNER THROUGH THE... (A group of NUNS appears and distributes a breakfast of coffee and doughnuts to the NEWSIES) NUNS: BLESSED CHILDREN, THOUGH YOU WANDER LOST AND DEPRAVED, JESUS LOVES YOU. YOU SHALL BE SAVED. ELMER: Thanks for the grub, Sistuh. NUN 1: Elmer, when are we going to see you inside the church? ELMER: I don’t know, Sistuh. But it’s bound to rain sooner or later. (SIMULTANEOUS) NUNS: BLESSED CHILDREN, AH. JESUS LOVES YOU, AH RACE: CURDLED COFFEE, CONCRETE DONUTS SPRINKLED WITH MOLD, HOMEMADE BISCUITS, JUST TWO YEARS OLD. ELMER: JUST GIVE ME HALF A CUP. HENRY: SOMETHING TO WAKE ME UP. ROMEO: I GOTTA FIND AN ANGLE. TOMMY BOY: IT'S GETTING BAD OUT THERE. MUSH: PAPERS IS ALL I GOT. SPECS: IT'S EIGHTY-EIGHT DEGREES. JO JO: JACK SAYS TO CHANGE MY SPOT. ALBERT: WISH I COULD CATCH A BREEZE. FINCH: MAYBE IT'S WORTH A SHOT. BUTTONS: ALL I CAN CATCH IS FLEAS. JACK: IF I HATE THE HEADLINE. I'LL MAKE UP A HEADLINE. JACK & A FEW NEWSIES: AND I'LL SAY ANYTHING I HAVE'TA JACK & MORE NEWSIES: 'CAUSE AT TWO FOR A PENNY, IF I TAKE TOO MANY WEASEL JUST MAKES ME EAT 'EM AFTA.
(The NEWSIES continue their journey through downtown Manhattan.) NEWSIE GROUP 1: (SIMULTANEOUSLY WITH NEWSIE GROUP 2 BELOW): GOT A FEELIN' 'BOUT THE HEADLINE! I SMELLS ME A HEADLINE! PAPES ARE GONNA SELL LIKE WE WAS GIVIN' 'EM AWAY! 6 BET'CHA DINNER IT'S A DOOZY, 'BOUT A PISTOL-PACKIN' FLOOZY WHO KNOWS HOW TO MAKE A NEWSIE'S DAY NEWSIE GROUP 2: I DO, TOO! SO IT MUST BE TRUE! WHAT A SWITCH! SOON WE'LL ALL BE RICH! DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER WAY TO MAKE A NEWSIES DAY! NEWSIES: YOU WANNA MOVE THE NEXT EDITION? GIVE US AN EARTHQUAKE OR A WAR. ELMER: HOW 'BOUT A CROOKED POLITICIAN? NEWSIES: YA NITWIT, THAT AIN'T NEWS NO MORE! UPTOWN TO GRAND CENTRAL STATION, DOWN TO CITY HALL, WE IMPROVES OUR CIRCULATION WALKIN' 'TILL WE FALL! NEWSIE GROUP 1 (SIMULTANEOUS WITH NEWSIE GROUP 2 BELOW): BUT WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN. WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: NEWSIES ON A MISSION! KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! NEWSIE GROUP 2: GOT A FEELIN' 'BOUT THE HEADLINE! I SMELLS ME A HEADLINE! PAPES ARE GONNA SELL LIKE WE WAS GIVIN' 'EM AWAY! BET'CHA DINNER IT'S A DOOZY 'BOUT A PISTOL-PACKIN' FLOOZY! DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER WAY TO MAKE A NEWSIE'S DAY! I WAS STAKIN' OUT THE CIRCUS, AND THEN SOMEONE SAID THAT CONEY'S REALLY HOT, BUT WHEN I GET THERE, THERE WAS SPOT WITH ALL HIS CRONIES. HECK, I'M GONNA TAKE WHAT LITTLE DOUGH I GOT AND PLAY THE PONIES! WE AT LEAST DESERVE A HEADLINE FOR THE HOURS THAT THEY WORK US. JEEZ, I BET IF I JUST STAYED A LITTLE LONGER AT THE CIRCUS... (The NEWSIES have arrived at the locked gate in front of the World- a prominent newspaper owned by Joseph Pulitzer.) FINCH: Hey, look! They’re puttin’ up the headline. SPECS: I hope it’s really bloody. With a nice clear picture. ROMEO: Please be murder, please be a murder! (A large chalkboard looms above. The NEWSIES watch in anticipation as a MAN writes the headline in large letters, “TROLLEY STRIKE ENTERS THIRD WEEK.”) ELMER: The trolley strike? IKE: Not again! RACE: Three weeks of the same story. FINCH: They’re killin’ us with that snoozer. SCRUB: I was hopin’ to eat today. (Two tough-looking boys, OSCAR and MORRIS DELANCEY, unlock the gates.) MORRIS: Make way. Step aside. 7 RACE: Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night. PEPPER: Or could it be... NEWSIES: ...the Delancey brothers. FINCH: Hey, Oscar, word on the street says you and your brother took money to beat up striking trolley workers. OSCAR: So? It’s honest work. ALBERT: But crackin’ the heads of defenseless workers? OSCAR: I take care of the guy who takes care of me. RACE: Ain’t your father one of the strikers? OSCAR: Guess he didn’t take care of me! (As if to make his point, MORRIES grabs CRUTCHIE and throws him to the ground.) MORRIS: You want some of that too? Ya lousy crip! (JACK pulls CRUTCHIE back to his feet and then confronts the DELANCEYS. The NEWSIES back up to give JACK room.) JACK: Now that’s not nice, Morris. RACE: Five to one Jack skunks ‘em! SWISH: My money’s on Jack! JACK: One unfortunate day you might find you got a bum gam of your own. How’d you like us pickin’ on you? Maybe we should find out. (And with that, Jack takes CRUTCHIE’S walking stick and smacks the DELANCEYS in the shins, knocking them both to the ground.) OSCAR: Wait till I get my hands on you. JACK: Ya gotta catch me first. (A chase ensues as the NEWSIES sing and dance their way in through the front gate....) NEWSIES: WE'LL ALL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN. WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: “NEWSIES ON A MISSION!” KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! AH, AH, AH, GO! (The NEWSIES arrive at the distribution windows of the World. WIESEL, an ill-tempered, rumpled man,
appears with the DELANCEYS to collect the money and distribute the papers to the NEWSIES.) WIESEL: Papers for the Newsies! Line up! (JACK is first to the window.) JACK: Good morning, Weasel. Did you miss me? WIESEL: That’s Wise-el. JACK: Ain’t that what I said? (Slapping down his money.) I’ll take the usual. WIESEL: A hundred papes for the wise guy. (OSCAR hands over the papers and RACE moves up to the window.) RACE: How’s it going, Weasel? WIESEL: At least call me “mister.” RACE: I’ll call you sweetheart if you’d spot me fifty papes. (The other NEWSIES laugh.) WIESEL: Drop the cash and move it along. 8 RACE: (slapping down his coin) Whatever happened to romance? WIESEL: Fifty for the Race. Next! CRUTCHIE: Good morning, Mr. Wiesel. WIESEL: Fifty papes for Crutchie. (DAVEY, a 17-year-old-boy who appears out of his element, and his kid brother LES, are next in line.) Have a look at this: a new kid. LES: I’m new too! KNUCKLES: Ya don’t say. RACE: Don’t worry, kid- rubs right off. DAVEY: I’ll take twenty newspapers, please. WIESEL: Twenty for the new kid. Let’s see the dime. DAVEY: I’ll pay you when I sell them. WIESEL: Funny, kid. C’mon, cash up front. DAVEY: But whatever I don’t sell, you buy back, right? WIESEL: Certainly. And every time you lose a tooth I put a penny under your pillow. This kid’s a riot. C’mon. Cough up the cash or blow. (Davey hands over a dime, gets his papers, and looks them over.) Come on, move along. Albert, lemme see your money. ALBERT: You have a very interestin’ face. Ever think of getting’ into the movin’ pictures? WIESEL: You think I could? ALBERT: Sure. Buy a ticket, they let anyone in. WIESEL: Beat it, will ya? DUCKY: Twenty papers please. DAVEY: Sorry. Excuse me. I paid for twenty but you gave me nineteen. (EVERYONE freezes and watches. JACK swoops in and quickly counts the papers.) WIESEL: You seen how nice I was to dis new kid? And what did I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations. DAVEY: I just want what I paid for. OSCAR: He said beat it! (The DELANCEYS start to crack their knuckles.) JACK: New kid’s right, Weasel. Ya gave him nineteen. I’m sure it was an honest mistake on account’a Oscar can’t count to twenty with his shoes on. (OSCAR threatens to attack. WIESEL pushes him back and tosses another paper to DAVEY.) WIESEL: Here. Now take a hike. JACK: (flipping a coin onto the counter) Give him another fifty papes. DAVEY: I don’t want more papes. JACK: What kind’a Newsie don’t want more papes? (Oscar hands DAVEY a stack of papers. DAVEY follows JACK with them.) DAVEY: I’m no charity case. I don’t even know you. LES: His name’s Jack. CRUTCHIE: This here is the famous Jack Kelly. He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage. Made all the papes. JACK: (to LES) How old are you, kid? LES: I’m ten. Almost. JACK: If anybody asks, you’re seven. Younger sells more papes, and if we’re gonna be partners.... DAVEY: Who said we want a partner? CRUTCHIE: Sellin’ with Jack is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from him, you learn from the best. 9 DAVEY: If he’s the best, what’s he need with me? JACK: ‘Cause you got a little brother and I don’t. That face could sell a thousand papes a week. (to LES) Look sad, kid. (LES makes a sad face.) We’re gonna make millions. LES: This is my brother David. I’m Les. JACK: Nice to meet ya, Davey. My two bits come off the top, and we split everything 70-30. LES: 50-50! You wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on a little kid. JACK: 60-40 and that’s my final offer. LES: Deal. (JACK spits in his hand and holds it out to shake. LES copies him and they shake.) DAVEY: That’s disgusting. JACK: It’s just business. (to ALL) Newsies, hit the streets. The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain’t getting’ any younger! #3- Carrying The Banner (Tag)- Newsies NEWSIES: WE'LL ALL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN. WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: “NEWSIES ON A MISSION!” KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER!
SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! AH, AH, AH, GO! (The NEWSIES exit as the scene shifts to...) SCENE TWO: Pulitzer’s Office, Afternoon (Editor SEITZ, secretary HANNAH, and accountant BUNSEN huddle in a business meeting. The mogul, JOSEPH PULITZER, is having his hair cut by NUNZIO, the barber.) PULITZER: Staff, the World is in trouble. Our circulation is down for the third quarter in a row. SEITZ: But, Mr. Pulitzer, every paper’s circulation is down since the war ended. PULITZER: Whoever said, “war is a tragedy”, wasn’t trying to sell newspapers. BUNSEN: We could use an exciting headline. PULITZER: What have we got today? SEITZ: The trolley strike. PULITZER: That’s not exciting? It’s epic! HANNAH: It’s boring. Folks wanna know, “Is the trolley comin’ or ain’t it?” No one cares why. SEITZ: And the strike’s about to be settled. Governor Roosevelt just put his support behind the workers. PULITZER: That man is a socialist. SEITZ: Teddy Roosevelt is no socialist. He’s an American hero. PULITZER: The man wants to outlaw football for being too violent. Football! Violent?! You’re right. He’s not socialist. He’ a commie! NUNZIO: Mr. Pulitzer, please, you must try to sit still. PULITZER: Gentlemen, please, you are making Nunzio nervous. And when Nunzio gets nervous, I don’t look pretty. (PULITZER sits back.) HANNAH: You never liked Roosevelt. You wrote and editorial against him day after day when he ran for governor. And guess what? He got elected. PULITZER: How can I influence voters if they’re not reading my opinion? 10 SEITZ: Big photos attract readers. PULITZER: Do you know what big photos cost? BUNSEN: But without flashy photos or headlines, how are we supposed to sell more papers. PULITZER: There’s an answer right before your eyes. You’re not thinking this through. People... #3- The Bottom Line- Pulitzer, Seitz, Bunsen, Hannah PULITZER: NUNZIO KNOWS WHEN HE’S CUTTING MY HAIR TRIM A BIT HERE AND THEN TRIM A BIT THERE JUST A MODEST ADJUSTMENT CAN FATTEN THE BOTTOM LINE NUNZIO: Mr. Pulitzer, please. PULITZER: SHAVING IS TRICKY: THE RAZOR SHOULD FLOAT SHAVE ME TOO CLOSE, AND YOU MAY CUT MY THROAT IT’S THE SIMPLEST SOLUTIONS THAT BOLSTER THE BOTTOM LINE BUNSEN: But how does that help us sell more papers? HANNAH: We don’t sell papers, silly, Newsies sell papers. BUNSEN: I’ve got it! Right now we charge the Newsies fifty cents for a hundred papers. PULITZER: Yes... BUNSEN: But if we raised their price to sixty cents per hundred... PULITZER: Now you’re getting somewhere... SEITZ: A mere tenth of a penny per paper. BUNSEN: Every single Newsie would have to sell twenty-five more papers just to earn the same amount as always. PULITZER: My thoughts exactly. It’s genius. HANNAH: It’s going to be awfully rough on those children. PULITZER: Nonsense. I’m giving them a real life lesson in economics. I couldn’t offer them a better education if they were my own. GIVE ME A WEEK AND I’LL TRAIN THEM TO BE, LIKE AN ARMY THAT’S MARCHING TO WAR PROUD OF THEMSELVES AND SO GRATEFUL TO ME, THEY’LL BE BEGGING TO PAY EVEN MORE! WHEN THERE’S DIRT ON OUR SHOES, BOYS, YOU HAVE TO RELAX! WHY THROW THEM OUT? ALL WE NEED IS SOME WAX LISTEN WELL TO THESE BARBERSHIP LESSONS FOR THEY’LL SEE YOU THROUGH! SIETZ, HANNAH & BUNSEN: WHEN YOU’RE STUCK IN THE MUCK, YOU’LL BE FINEYOU’LL ERASE ANY TRACE OF DECLINE SEITZ: WHAT A TRIM! HANNAH: AND A SNIP! BUNSEN: AND A SHINE! PULITZER: AND THE POWER OF PRESS, YES! ONCE AGAIN IS MINE! PULITZER: The price for the Newsies goes up in the morning! PULITZER: JUST A FEW COMMON CENTS, GENTS, THAT’S THE BOTTOM LINE! SIETZ, HANNAH & BUNSEN: EV’RY NEW OUTCOME IS INCOME FOR YOU, THANKS TO THAT BOTTOM LINE! (The lights shift from the office to the NEWSIES during the scene transition.) #4A- Carrying The Banner (Reprise)- Newsies 11 NEWSIES: SUN UP TO SUNDOWN, KNOWIN’ WHERE MY CUSTOMERS’LL BE SUN UP TO SUNDOWN, WATCHIN’ ALL THE LADIES WATCHIN’ ME WALKED MY SHOES OFF, GOT THE DOUGH TO SHOW IT PROBABLY I’LL BLOW IT, THEN BEFORE YOU KNOW IT WE’LL BE OUT THERE, CARRYING THE BANNER….
(The scene shifts to...) SCENE THREE: A Street Corner (JACK leans against a building as DAVEY attempts to peddle papers to a GROUP OF GIRLS.) GIRL 1: And he said I couldn’t see him again! GIRL 2: Who? Your father? GIRL 1: Yeah, just because he didn’t… GIRL 3: Wait, I thought he worked for him? DAVEY: Paper. Paper. Evenin’ pape here. Care for a paper ladies? (The GIRL GROUP giggles) GIRL 2: No thanks. GIRL 3: He was cute! JACK: Sing ‘em to sleep why dontcha? (Snatches a paper from DAVEY and hawks it.) Extra! Extra! Terrified flight from burnin’ inferno! You heard the story right here! PASSERBY: Oh no! What burned down? (PASSERBY snatches the paper from JACK, hands him a coin JACK: Thanks madam! (PASSERBY opens the paper and exits in a rush.) DAVEY: You made that up. JACK: Did not. I said he heard it right here, and he did. DAVEY: My father taught us not to lie. JACK: And mine taught me not to starve. (LES comes up empty-handed.) LES: Hey! I just sold my last paper. DAVEY: I got one more. JACK: Sell it or pay for it. LES: Give it here. (takes the paper, sidles up to a WOMAN and SALLY passing by, and puts the saddest look on his face.) Buy a paper from a poor orphan boy? (LES coughs gently.) WOMAN: Oh, you dear thing. Of course I’ll take a newspaper. Here’s a dime. (The WOMAN and SALLY exit with the paper. SALLY turns and smiles at LES before leaving.) JACK: Born to the breed. LES: This is so much better than school! DAVEY: Don’t even think it. When Pop goes back to work, we go back to school. (While the boys talk, SNYDER, a sinister looking man, sees JACK and steps back again a building. He seems excited to have spotted the boy. Cautiously, he flags down a POLICEMAN and whispers to him.) JACK: So’s how about we divvy up the money, grab some chow, then find you’s somewhere save to spend the night? DAVEY: We gotta get home. Our folks will be waitin’ dinner. JACK: Ya got folks, huh? LES: Doesn’t everybody? DAVEY: (Elbows his brother) Our dad tangled with a delivery truck on the job. Messed his leg up bad, so 12 they laid him off. That’s how come we had to find work. JACK: Yeah, sure, that makes sense. Too bad about your dad. DAVEY: Why don’t you come home with us for dinner? Our folks would be happy to have you. LES: Mom’s a great cook. JACK: Thanks for the invite, but I just remembered I got plans with a fella. He’s probably waiting on me right now. (SNYDER and the POLICEMAN have been slowly moving toward the BOYS. LES spots them and points.) #5- The Chase LES: Is that the guy you’re meetin’? (JACK looks up and sees SNYDER.) SNYDER: Kelly! JACK: (grabbing LES) Run for it! SNYDER: Officer, grab him! You, Jack Kelly, stop! Kelly! (JACK, DAVEY, and LES leap onto a fire escape ladder and take off. The POLICEMAN and SNYDER try to follow. The BOYS climb over the roof and back down the other side, into the flies of a burlesque house.) SCENE FOUR: Medda’s Theater JACK: Slow down. We lost ‘em. DAVEY: Someone want to tell me why I’m running? I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy? JACK: That was Snyder the Spider. A real sweetie. He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he locks up, the more money the city pays him. Problem is, all the money goes straight to his own pocket. Do yourself a favor and stay clear of him and The Refuge. (MEDDA LARKIN, a burlesque star, appears in a revealing costume. The EMCEE and two showgirls, the BOWERY BEAUTIES, get ready for the performance.) MEDDA: Hey, you up there, shoo! No kids allowed in the theater. JACK: Not even me, Miss Medda? MEDDA: (recognizing the intruder) Jack Kelly, man of mystery. Get yourself down here and give me a hug. Where have you been keepin’ yourself, kid? (JACK, DAVEY, and LES come down to the stage.) JACK: Never far from you, Miss Medda. Boys, may I present Miss Medda Larkin: the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint. MEDDA: The only thing I own is a mortgage. Pleasure, gents. DAVEY: A pleasure. (DAVEY bows gallantly, but LES just stands wide-eyed, staring at the BOWERY
BEAUTIES. DAVEY smacks him.) What’s wrong with you? LES: Are you blind? She got no clothes on! DAVEY: That’s her costume. LES: But I can see her legs! MEDDA: (to DAVEY) Step out of his way so’s he can get a better look. Theater’s not only entertaining, it’s educational. (posing) Got the picture, kid? JACK: Miss Medda, I got a little situation out on the street. Mind if I hide out here a while? MEDDA: Where better to escape trouble than a theater? Is Snyder after you again? LES: Hey Jack, did you really escape jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage? DAVEY: What would the Governor be doing at a juvenile jail? JACK: So happens he was runnin’ for office and wanted to show he cared about orphans and such. So while he got his mug in the paper, I got my butt in the back seat and we rode together. 13 LES: You really know the Governor? MEDDA: He don’t, but I do! Say, Jack, when you’ve got time, I want you to paint me some more of these backdrops. (Indicates a park scene drop behind her) This last one you did is a doozy. Folks love it. And things have been going so well that I can actually pay. JACK: I couldn’t take your money, Miss Medda. LES: You pictured that? MEDDA: Your friend is quite an artist. JACK: I don’t get carried away. It’s a bunch of trees. DAVEY: You’re really good. MEDDA: That boy’s got natural aptitude. LES: Geez. I never knew no one with a aptitude. (The EMCEE calls to her.) EMCEE: Miss Medda, you’re on! MEDDA: (strikes a pose) Yeah? How’m I doin’? (to the BOYS) Boys, lock the door and stay all night. You’re with Medda now! EMCEE: (announcing MEDDA as she moves toward the stage) Ladies and gentleman, please welcome the star of our show.... Miss Medda Larkin! (MEDDA is captured in a spotlight. The BOYS watch from the wings, completely entranced, while she performs to the crowd of NY CITIZENS.) #6- That’s Rich- Medda MEDDA: I'M DOING ALL RIGHT FOR MYSELF FOLKS: I'M HEALTHY, I'M WEALTHY, I'M WISE. MY INVESTMENTS AND SUCH HAVE ALL GONE UP SO MUCHSEEMS WHATEVER I TOUCH STARTS TO RISE. I’VE BEEN ALL KINDS OF LUCKY AND YET THE THING I WANT MOST...I CAN'T GET. I LIVE IN A MANSION ON LONG ISLAND SOUND. I PULLED UP A WEED, THEY FOUND OIL IN THE GROUND. BUT YOU TELLING ME YOU DON'T WANT ME AROUNDNOW, HONEY, THAT'S RICH. (to audience members) SOME GUYS GIVE ME ERMINE, CHINCHILLA AND MINK AND GIVE ME DIAMONDS AS BIG AS A SINK, BUT YOU WOULDN'T GIVE ME AS MUCH AS A WINKNOW, BABY, THAT'S RICH. I GET BRANDY FROM ANDY AND CANDY FROM SCOTT. OH, AND FRANK AND EDUARDO CHIPPED IN FOR A YACHT. I GET STARES FROM THE FELLAS AND PRAYERS FROM THE POPE, BUT I RAN OUT MY LUCK GETTING STUCK WITH THIS MOPE! MEDDA: (to audience member) Oh, honey, I was just talking about you! (To “Him”) NOW, LISTEN, SPORT, THIS LIFE'S TOO SHORT TO WASTE IT ON YOU. IT MAY BE ROUGH, BUT SOON ENOUGH I'LL LEARN TO MAKE DO….WITH THE MANSION, THE OIL WELL, THE DIAMONDS, THE YACHT, 14 WITH ANDY, EDUARDO, THE PONTIFF AND SCOTT AND FRANK. AND MY BANK! SO SPILL NO TEARS FOR ME, 'CAUSE THERE'S ONE THING YOU AIN'T THAT I'LL ALWAYS BE, AND HONEY, YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, THAT'S RICH! THAT'S RICH! THAT'S RICH! MEDDA: That’s rich! (MEDDA bows. JACK’s eyes are drawn to a box seat out front where KATHERINE sits watching the show. The set shifts as he crosses the stage and climbs the stairs.) #6A- I Never Planned On You/Don’t Come a-Knocking- Jack, Bowery Beauties MEDDA: And now, gents, let’s have a big hand for the Bowery Beauties! (The BOWERY BEAUTIES begin to dance.) BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON’T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR JACK: (climbs into the box) Well, hello again. KATHERINE: This is a private box. JACK: (Moving closer) Want I should lock the door? (Moving closer still) Twice in one day. Think it’s fate? KATHERINE: (Dismissive) Go away. I'm working. JACK: A working girl, huh? Doin’ what? KATHERINE: Reviewing the show for the New York Sun. JACK: Hey! I work for the World. KATHERINE: Somewhere out there someone cares. Go tell them. JACK: The view’s better here. KATHERINE: Please go. I am not in the habit of speaking to strangers. JACK:
Then you’re gonna make a lousy reporter. The name’s Jack Kelly. KATHERINE: Is that what it says on your rap sheet? JACK : A smart girl. I admire smart girls. (Admiring KATHERINE) Beautiful. Smart. Independent. KATHERINE: (Getting loud) Do you mind!? MEDDA: (Hollering up to JACK and KATHERINE) You got in for free. At least pay attention. JACK: Sorry Medda. (KATHERINE returns to watching the show, but JACK only has eyes for her. He takes a piece of newsprint ad a pencil in his pocket and begins to sketch of portrait of her. The image of the drawing appears in projections behind them.) JACK: I GOT NO USE FOR MOONLIGHT OR SAPPY POETRY. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT'S FOR SUCKERS, AT LEAST IT USED TO BE. LOOK, GIRLS ARE NICE, ONCE OR TWICE, TILL I FIND SOMEONE NEW, BUT I NEVER PLANNED ON SOMEONE LIKE YOU. (Sings simultaneously with the Bowery Beauties) I GOT NO USE FOR MOONLIGHT OR SAPPY POETRY. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT'S FOR SUCKERS, AT LEAST IT USED TO BE. JACK: NO, I NEVER PLANNED ON NO ONE LIKE YOU. BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A KNOCKING ON MY DOOR. 15 YOU AREN'T WELCOME HERE NO MORE. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU STUNK LIKE YESTERDAY'S TRASH THE NIGHT YOU STOLE MY HEART PLUS FORTY DOLLARS IN CASH. TURNS OUT MY BEAU IS JUST SOME BUM. TURNS OUT THAT LOVE AIN'T BLIND, IT'S DUMB. YOU NEVER TOLD THE TRUTH OR WORKED A DAY IN YOUR LIFE. IN FACT, YOU'RE SO REVOLTIN', I FEEL BAD FOR YOUR WIFE. KATHERINE: What are you doing? JACK: Quiet down. There's a show going on. KATHERINE: You are the most impossible boyJACK: Shhh! KATHERINE: Ever. BOWERY BEAUTIES: I WON'T BE SHAVING YOUR BACK ANYMORE, NO, SENOR. JACK: NO, I NEVER PLANNED ON NO ONE LIKE YOU. BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR! BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR! BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR! (JACK places the newsprint on the empty chair as he exits. KATHERINE looks at it and sees the portrait of herself, beautifully rendered. We can almost see her blush.) #6B- To the Distribution Window SCENE FIVE: Newsie Square, Next Morning (A few NEWSIES convene outside the distribution window of the World as the circulation bell tolls.) SPLASHER: Them fire sirens kept me awake all night. MUSH: Sirens is like lullabies to me. The louder they wail the better the headline. And the better the headline, the better I eat. And the better I eat... SPLASHER: (cutting MUSH off) ...the further away from you I sleep! (LES and DAVEY arrive.) DAVEY: ‘Morning, everybody. Sorry we’re late. GUM GUM: You didn’t miss nothin’ yet. NEWBY: What made your mornin’ excitin’ this early? DAVEY: We had to help our mom with something. RACE: They gotta mudder? I was gonna get me one. ROMEO: What’d you do with the one you had? BUTTONS: He traded her for a box of cigars. RACE: They was Coronas! LES: We have a father too. BUTTONS: A mudder and a fodder. RACE: Ain’t we the hoi polloi? LES: So, how’s it going today? TOMMY BOY: Ask me after they put up the headline. (LES looks up to read it.) CHICKLET: Here it comes now. 16 ALBERT: (reading) “New Newsie Price: Sixty Cents Per Hundred.” MUSH: What’d you say? (The NEWSIES begin to take notice.) DAVEY: Is that news? MIKE: It is to me. ALBERT: They jacked up the price of papes. RACKET: Ten cents more a hundred! ELMER: I can eat two days on a dime. CRUTCHIE: I’ll be sleepin’ on the street. JO JO: You already sleep on the street. CRUTCHIE: In a worse neighborhood. (JACK arrives.) SALAMI: Wait’ll Jack hear’s about this. IKE: He’s gonna lose it. CRISS-CROSS: Here he comes now! KNUCKLES: Jack, check this out. JACK: What’re you all standin’ around for? CRUTCHIE: Get a load of this, Jack. ROMEO: Like Pulitzer don’t make enough already? CHICKLET: The rich gotta get richer…. CURLY: While we all gotta starve ta death. (WIESEL opens his window for business. He stares at the NEWSIES with a malevolent smile.) WIESEL: Papes for the Newsies. JACK: Relax. It’s gotta be a gag. WIESEL: Line up, boys. (JACK goes up to the window and slaps his money down.)
JACK: Good joke, Weasel. Really got the fellas goin’. I’ll take a hundred and be on my way. WIESEL: A hundred’ll cost ya sixty. JACK: I ain’t payin’ no sixty— WIESEL: Then make way for someone who will. (SPECS and a few more NEWSIES arrive.) JACK: You bet! Me and the fellas will take a hike over to The Journal. NEWSIES: YEAH!!! SPECS: I’ll save you the walk. They upped their price too. JACK: Then we’ll take our business to the Sun! WIESEL: It’s the same price all around town. New day. New price. BUDDY: Why the jack-up? WIESEL: For them kind’a answers you gotta ask a little further up the food chain. So, you buyin’ or movin’ on? JACK: C’mere fellas. (The NEWSIES huddle together as a gang.) FINCH: They can’t just do that, can they? RACE: Why not? It’s their paper. CRUTCHIE: It’s their world. HENRY: Ain’t we got no rights? CRUTCHIE: We got the right to starve. C’mon, let’s get our papes and hit the streets while we still can. HENRY: At them prices? CRUTCHIE: We got a choice? PICKLES: If it’s the same everywhere, then I don’t see another option. 17 JACK: Hold on. Nobody’s payin’ no new nothin’. TOMMY BOY: You got a idea? SCRUB: What is it Jack? JACK: Keep your shirt on. Lemme think this through. BUTTONS: What’s your angle? (LES pushes the other boys away.) SPLASHER: Let’s hear the idea, Jack! LES: Stop crowdin’ him. Let the man work it out. (The NEWSIES back up and watch JACK think.) Hey, Jack, you still thinkin’? RACE: Sure he is. Can’t you smell smoke? DUCKY: I don’t get it. JACK: All right, here’s the deal: if we don’t sell papes, then no one sells papes. Nobody gets to that window till they put the price back where it belongs. DAVEY: You mean like a strike? JACK: You heard Davey. We’re on strike. DAVEY: Hold on. I didn’t say— JACK: We shut down this place like them workers shut down the trolleys. FINCH: And the cops will bust our heads! TOMMY BOY: Half them strikers is laid up with broke bones. JACK: Cops ain’t gonna care about a bunch of kids. Right, Davey? DAVEY: Leave me out of this. I’m just trying to feed my family. JACK: And the rest of us is on playtime? Just because we only make pennies don’t give nobody the right to rub our noses in it. DAVEY: It doesn’t matter. You can’t strike. You’re not a union. JACK: And what if I says we is? DAVEY: There’s a lot of stuff you gotta have in order to be a union. RACKET: Like what? DAVEY: Like membership. JACK: What do you call these guys? DAVEY: And officers. CRUTCHIE: I nominate Jack President! (The NEWSIES cheer their approval.) JACK: Gee, I’m touched. DAVEY: How about a statement of purpose? JACK: Must’a left it in my other pants. RACE: What’s a statement of purpose? DAVEY: A reason for forming the union. JACK: What reason did the trolley workers have? DAVEY: I don’t know. Wages? Work hours? Safety on the job? JACK: Who don’t need that? Bet if your father had a union you wouldn’t be out here sellin’ papes right now. Yeah? DAVEY: Yeah. JACK: So, our union is hereby formed to watch each other’s backs. “Union’d we stand.” Hey, that’s not bad. Somebody write that down. LES: I got a pencil. JACK: Meet our Secretary of State. Now what? 18 DAVEY: If you want to strike, the membership’s gotta vote. JACK: So let’s vote. What do you say, fellas? The choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike? NEWSIES: Strike!!!!!! #7- The World Will Know- Jack, Davey, Les, Crutchie, Newsies JACK: You heard the voice of the membership. The Newsies of Lower Manhattan are now officially on strike. What next? CRUTCHIE: Wouldn’t a strike be more effective if someone in charge knew about it? RACE: It would be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself. JACK: Yeah? And who tells Pulitzer? Davey? DAVEY: I don’t know… I guess… (giving in) You do, Mr. President. JACK: That’s right, we do! (To DAVEY, a bit hushed.) What do we tell ‘em? DAVEY: The newspaper owners need to respect your rights as employees. JACK: (Loudly to the group.) Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the workin’ kids of this city. DAVEY:
They can’t just change the rules when they feel like it. JACK: That’s right. We do the work, so we get a say. DAVEY: (finally committing) We’ve got a union. NEWSIES: Yeah! JACK: PULITZER AND HEARST, THEY THINK WE'RE NOTHING'. ARE WE NOTHIN'? NEWSIES: NO! DAVEY: They need to understand that we’re not enslaved to them. We’re free agents. JACK: PULITZER AND HEARST, THEY THINK THEY GOT US. DO THEY GOT US? NEWSIES: NO! DAVEY: We’re a union now – the Newsboys’ Union – and we mean business. JACK: EVEN THOUGH WE AIN'T GOT HATS OR BADGES, WE'RE A UNION JUST BY SAYING SO. AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW. FINCH: What’s to stop some other kids comin’ along to sell our papes? ALBERT: Just let ‘em try! DAVEY: No! We can’t beat up on the other kids. We’re all in this together. JACK: (ignoring DAVEY) WHAT'S IT GONNA TAKE TO STOP THE WAGONS? ARE WE READY? NEWSIES: YEAH! JACK: WHAT'S IT GONNA TAKE TO STOP THE SCABBERS? CAN WE DO IT? NEWSIES: YEAH! JACK: WE'LL DO WHAT WE GOTTA DO UNTIL WE BREAK THE WILL OF MIGHTY BILL AND JOE. NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW. AND THE JOURNAL TOO. JACK & DAVEY: MISTER HEARST AND PULITZER, HAVE WE GOT NEWS FOR YOU. NEWSIES: SEE, THE WORLD DON'T KNOW, BUT THEY'RE GONNA PAY. JACK & DAVEY: 'STEAD OF HAWKIN' HEADLINES WE'LL BE MAKIN' 'EM TODAY. NEWSIES: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW, CRUTCHIE: AND WE'LL KICK THEIR REAR! NEWSIES: YEAH! AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW THAT WE BEEN HERE. JACK: WHEN THE CIRCULATION BELL STARTS RINGING, WILL WE HEAR IT? NEWSIES: NO! 19 JACK: WHAT IF THE DELANCEY'S COME OUT SWINGING? WILL WE HEAR IT? NEWSIES: NO! WHEN YA GOT A HUNDRED VOICES SINGING, WHO CAN HEAR A LOUSY WHISTLE BLOW?AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW THAT THIS AIN'T NO GAME, THAT WE GOT A TON OF ROTTEN FRUIT AND PERFECT AIM. SO THEY GAVE THEIR WORD. WELL, IT AIN'T WORTH BEANS. NOW THEY'RE GONNA SEE WHAT "STOP THE PRESSES" REALLY MEANS. AND THE OLD WILL WEEP, AND GO BACK TO SLEEP. AND WE GOT NO CHOICE BUT TO SEE IT THROUGH, RACE: AND WE FOUND OUR VOICE, SPECS: AND I LOST MY SHOE! NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL- (The scene transitions to the gate. JACK climbs up to the chalkboard and writes down “STRIKE” over the other headlines.) NEWSIES: Yeah!! JACK: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! NEWSIES: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! JACK: PULITZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! NEWSIES: PULTIZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW WE BEEN KEEPIN' SCORE. EITHER THEY GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES THEM A WAR. WE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG, AND WE PAID OUR DUES. (The NEWSIES make their way to the front door of the World.) CRUTCHIE: AND THE THINGS WE DO TODAY WILL BE TOMORROW'S NEWS. NEWSIES: AND THE DIE IS CAST, AND THE TORCH IS PASSED. NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND A ROAR WILL RISE… NEWSIES GROUP 2: …FROM THE STREETS BELOW, NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW… NEWSIES GROUP 2: …AND GROW NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND GROW NEWSIES: AND SO THE WORLD WILL FEEL THE FIRE AND FINALLY KNOW! (The NEWSIES open the doors. JACK, DAVEY, and LES enter and the doors close behind them. The NEWSIES wait in anticipation. Then the doors fly open and a GUARD throws JACK, DAVEY, and LES out.) GUARD: And stay out! LES: (yelling back) You can tell Pulitzer that a few days into this strike, he’s gonna be beggin’ for an appointment to see me! You got that? (Doors Slam.) He got it. NEWSIES: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! JACK: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! NEWSIES: PULITZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! JACK: PULITZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! NEWSIES: SO THE WORLD SAYS "NO!" WELL THE KIDS DO TOO! TRY TO WALK ALL OVER US, WE'LL STOMP ALL OVER YOU! CRUTCHIE: CAN THEY KICK US OUT? TAKE AWAY OUR VOTE? 20 NEWSIES: WILL WE LET 'EM STUFF THIS CROCK OF GARBAGE DOWN OUR THROAT? NO! EVERYDAY WE WAIT IS A DAY WE LOSE! NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND THIS AIN'T FOR FUN! NEWSIES GROUP 2: AND IT AIN'T FOR SHOW! NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND WE'LL FIGHT 'EM TOE NEWSIES GROUP 2: TO TOE NEWSIES GROUP 1: TO TOE! NEWSIES: AND JOE, YOUR WORLD WILL FEEL THE FIRE AND FINALLY, FINALLY KNOW!
SCENE SIX: Jacobi’s Deli & Street, Afternoon (The NEWSIES settle in at their favorite hangout. The proprietor, MS. JACOBI, arrives with a tray of glasses, which he proceeds to hand out.) MS. JACOBI: And here we go... a glass of water for you. And one for you. And one for you. And you. And, ah, who’s the big spender what ordered the seltzer? ALBERT: Over here. MS. JACOBI: And that’ll be two cents. ALBERT: Two cents for a glass of seltzer? Just gimme water. MS. JACOBI: (switching out glasses) How did I ever see that coming? SWISH: Could I get a water too? PEPPER: Oh! Me too! NEWBY: Me too! GUM GUM: Over here as well! MIKE: Just bring another round of waters please. MS. JACOBI: Yeesh. Let me do the dishes to get a few more glasses clean first. (She exits.) DAVEY: (toasting) I’d say we launched our strike in a most auspicious manner. (The NEWSIES try to figure out what DAVEY said.) MUSH: I don’t know about that, but we sure scared the bejeebers outta Weasel! CRUTCHIE: Did you see the Delanceys? PICKLES: They didn’t know which way was up. JACK: (to DAVEY) So, what’s next? DAVEY: Now you have to spread the word. Let the rest of the city’s Newsies know about the strike. JACK: You heard the man. Let’s split up and spread the word. MUSH: I’ll take Harlem. RACE: I got midtown. JO JO: I got the Bronx. BUTTONS: And I got the Bowery. JACK: Specs, you take Queens. Tommy Boy, you take the Eastside. And who wants Brooklyn? (The NEWSIES cringe and look away.) C’mon. Brooklyn. Spot Conlon’s turf. Finch, you tellin’ me you’re scared of Brooklyn? FINCH: I ain’t scared of no turf. But that Spot Conlon got me a little jittery. JACK: Fine. Me and Davey will take Brooklyn. DAVEY: (still struggling) Me? I have to...(KATHERINE enters) KATHERINE: Why’s everyone so scared of Brooklyn? JACK: (smiling) What’re you doin’ here? 21 KATHERINE: Asking a question. Have you got an answer? JACK: Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the entire world. You got Brooklyn, you hit the mother load. (sidling up to KATHERINE) For someone who works for the New York Sun, you spend an awful lot of time hanging around at the World. So, what’s that about? You followin’ me? KATHERINE: The only thing I’m following is a story. A rag-tag gang of ragamuffins wants to take on the kingmakers of New York. Think you have a chance? JACK: Shouldn’t you be at the ballet? KATHERINE: Question too difficult? I’ll rephrase: will the richest and most powerful men in New York give the time of day to a gang of kids who haven’t got a nickel to their name? CRUCHIE: You don’t gotta be insultin’. I got a nickel. KATHERINE: So I guess you’d say you’re a couple of Davids looking to take on Goliath? DAVEY: We never said that. KATHERINE: You didn’t have to. I did. JACK: I seen a lot of papers in my time and I ain’t never noted no girl reporters writing hard news. KATHERINE: Wake up to the new century. The game’s changing. How about an exclusive interview? JACK: Ain’t your beat entertainment? KATHERINE: This is entertaining... so far. JACK: What’s the last news story you wrote? KATHERINE: What’s the last strike you organized? ROMEO: (pushing his way in) You’re out of your league, Kelly. Methinks the lady needs to handled by a real man. KATHERINE: (waving him off) You thinks wrong, Romeo. ROMEO: How’d she know my name? DAVEY: (to JACK) I say we save any exclusive for a real reporter. KATHERINE: (Almost angry) You see somebody else giving you the time of day? (desperate) Alright, so I’m just busting out of the social pages. But you give me the exclusive, let me run with the story, and I promise you I’ll get you the space. CRUTCHIE: You think we could be in the papes? KATHERINE: Shut down a paper like the World and you’re going to make the front page. JACK: You want a story? Be in front of the circulation gate tomorrow morning and you’ll get one. And bring a camera. You’re gonna wanna snap a picture of dis. (MS. JACOBI comes to shoo the NEWSIES out.) MS. JACOBI: Let’s go, boys, play outside. I gotta set up for dinner. I got payin’ customers need tables. #8-
The World Will Know (Reprise)- Jack, Davey, Les, Newsies FINCH: C’mon. We got Newsies to visit. RACE: You won’t be shooin’ us off when we gets our mugs in the papes! (The NEWSIES exit the deli and head to the street.) NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW, WE BEEN KEEPIN' SCORE. EITHER THEY GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES THEM A WAR. WE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG, AND WE PAID OUR DUES. AND THE THINGS WE DO TODAY WILL BE TOMORROW'S NEWS. AND THE DIE IS CAST, AND THE TORCH IS PASSED. NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND A ROAR WILL RISE… 22 NEWSIES GROUP 2: …FROM THE STREETS BELOW, NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW… NEWSIES GROUP 2: …AND GROW NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND GROW NEWSIES: AND SO THE WORLD WILL FEEL THE FIRE AND FINALLY KNOW! DAVEY: Come on, Les. The folks are waiting. (The Newsies disperse as DAVEY and LES head home. JACK lingers behind with KATHERINE.) KATHERINE: So, what’s your story? Are you selling newspapers to work your way through art school? JACK: Art school? Are you kiddin’ me? (KATHERINE holds up the drawing that JACK did of her.) KATHERINE: But you’re an artist. You’ve got real talent. You should be inside the paper illustrating, not outside hawking it. JACK: Maybe that ain’t what I want. KATHERINE: So tell me what you want. JACK: (shamelessly flirting) Can’t you see it in my eyes? KATHERINE: Have you always been their leader? JACK: I’m a blowhard. Davey’s the brains. KATHERINE: Modesty is not a quality I would have pinned on you. JACK: You got a name? KATHERINE: Katherine... Plumber. JACK: What’s the matter? Ain’t ya sure? KATHERINE: It’s my byline, the name I publish under. Tell me about tomorrow. What are you hoping for? JACK: I’d rather tell you what I’m hoping for tonight. KATHERINE: Mr. Kelly.... JACK: Today we stopped our Newsies from carrying out papes, but the wagons still delivered to the rest of the city. Tomorrow, we stop the wagons. KATHERINE: Are you scared? JACK: Do I look scared? But ask me again in the morning. KATHERINE: (writes down the quite and starts to exit) Good answer. Good night, Mr. Kelly. JACK: Come on, where you runnin’? It ain’t even supper time! #9- Watch What Happens- Katherine KATHERINE: I’ll see you in the morning. And, off the record, good luck. JACK: Hey, Plumber. Write it good. We both got a lot ridin’ on you. (JACK walks off as KATHERINE heads to her office.) SCENE SEVEN: Katherine’s Office (KATHERINE sits down at her desk and begins to write her article) KATHERINE: You heard the man, “Write it good.” Write it good, or it’s back to wheezing your way through the flower show. No pressure. Let’s go. (typing) “Newsies Stop the World.” A little hyperbole never hurt anyone. (typing again) “With all eyes fixed on the trolley strike, there’s another battle brewing in the city...” (pulls paper out of the typewriter and rips it up) ...and if I could just write about it... (puts a fresh piece of paper in the typewriter) Come on, Katherine, the boys are counting on you. Oh, you poor boys.... 23 "WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW" SO THEY SAY, ALL I KNOW IS I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO WRITE OR THE RIGHT WAY TO WRITE IT THIS IS BIG, LADY, DON'T SCREW IT UP THIS IS NOT SOME LITTLE VAUDEVILLE I'M REVIEWING POOR LITTLE KIDS VERSUS RICH GREEDY SOUR PUSSES HA! IT'S A CINCH! IT COULD PRACTICALLY WRITE ITSELF AND LET'S PRAY IT DOES, CAUSE AS I MAY HAVE MENTIONED I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I'M DOING AM I INSANE? THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR WELL THAT, PLUS THE SCREAMING OF TEN ANGRY EDITORS “A GIRL?” “THAT’S A GIRL! HOW THE HECK?” “IS THAT EVEN LEGAL?” “LOOK, JUST GO AND GET HER!” NOT ONLY THAT, THERE'S A STORY BEHIND THE STORY THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN, EXPLOITED, INVISIBLE SPEAK UP, TAKE A STAND, AND THERE'S SOMEONE TO WRITE ABOUT IT THAT'S HOW THINGS GET BETTER GIVE LIFE'S LITTLE GUYS SOME INK, AND WHEN IT DRIES JUST WATCH WHAT HAPPENS THOSE KIDS WILL LIVE AND BREATHE RIGHT ON THE PAGE AND ONCE THEY'RE CENTER STAGE, YOU WATCH WHAT HAPPENS AND WHO'S THERE WITH HER CAMERA AND HER PEN AS BOYS TURN INTO MEN THEY'LL STORM THE GATES AND THEN JUST WATCH WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY DO! KATHERINE: (reads aloud what she’s written)
“A modern day David is poised to take on the rich and powerful Goliath. With the swagger of one twice his age, armed with nothing more than a few nuggets of truth, Jack Kelly stands ready to face the behemoth Pulitzer.” Now that’s how you turn a boy into a legend! PICTURE A HANDSOME, HEROICALLY CHARISMATIC PLAIN SPOKEN, KNOW NOTHING, SKIRT-CHASING, COCKY LITTLE SON OF A LIE DOWN WITH DOGS AND YOU WAKE UP WITH A RAISE AND A PROMOTION SO, HE'S A FLIRT, A COMPLETE EGO MANIAC THE FACT IS HE'S ALSO THE FACE OF THE STRIKE WHAT A FACE, FACE THE FACTS, THAT'S A FACE THAT COULD SAVE US ALL FROM SINKING IN THE OCEAN LIKE SOMEONE SAID, "POWER TENDS TO CORRUPT" AND ABSOLUTE POWER, WAIT! WAIT, CORRUPTS!? ABSOLUTELY, THAT IS GENIUS! BUT GIVE ME SOME TIME, I'LL BE TWICE AS GOOD AS THAT SIX MONTHS FROM NEVER JUST LOOK AROUND AT THE WORLD WE'RE INHERITING AND THINK OF THE ONE WE'LL CREATE THEIR MISTAKE IS THEY GOT OLD, THAT IS NOT A MISTAKE WE'LL BE MAKING NO SIR, WE'LL STAY YOUNG FOREVER! GIVE THOSE KIDS AND ME THE BRAND NEW CENTURY AND WATCH WHAT HAPPENS IT'S DAVID AND GOLIATH, DO OR DIE THE FIGHT IS ON AND I CAN'T WATCH WHAT HAPPENS 24 BUT ALL I KNOW IS NOTHING HAPPENS IF YOU JUST GIVE IN IT CAN'T BE ANY WORSE THAN HOW IT'S BEEN AND IT JUST SO HAPPENS THAT WE JUST MIGHT WIN SO WHATEVER HAPPENS! LET'S BEGIN! (Blackout.) #9A- Watch What Happens (Playoff) SCENE EIGHT: Newsie Square, Next Morning (JACK and the other NEWSIES nervously begin to assemble. As DAVEY and LES arrive, DAVEY pulls JACK aside.) DAVEY: Is anyone else coming? JACK: Don’t got a clue. RACE: Youse seen Spot Conlon, right? What’d he say? JACK: Sure we seen him. DAVEY: Him and about twenty of his gang. LES: And them Brooklyn boys is big. JACK: And I gotta say, Spot was very impressed. Wasn’t he? DAVEY: I’d say. RACE: So they’re with us? DAVEY: That all depends on how you look at it. If you look and see Brooklyn, then they’re with us. JACK: They wanted proof we’re not gonna fold at the first sign of trouble. FINCH: Are we? JACK: We are not! There’s us and Harlem— MUSH: Not so fast, boss. Harlem wants to know what Brooklyn’s gonna do. JACK: How about Queens? SPECS: Queens will be right here backing us up— JACK: Ya see! SPECS: ... as soon as they get the nod from Brooklyn. RACE: I got the same fish-eye in midtown. (The DELANCEYS walk by on their way to work.) MORRIS: Say, Oscar, looks like we got bum information about a strike happenin’ here today. Not that I’m complainin’. My skull bustin’ arm could use a day of rest. (The DELANCYES move on.) LES: Are we doing the right thing? DAVEY: Sure we are. RACE: Maybe we put this off a couple a days? DAVEY: No. We can’t... (desperately to JACK) Say something. Tell them if we back off now they will never listen to us again. #10- Seize The Day- Davey, Jack, Les, Newsies JACK: (to the NEWSIES) We can’t back down now. No matter who does or doesn’t show. Like it or not, now is when we take a stand. FINCH: How’s about we just don’t show for work? That’ll send a message. 25 JACK: They’ll just replace us. They need us to stand our ground. (turns to DAVEY) C’mon, Davey. Tell ‘em. DAVEY: (on the spot, timidly begins a pep talk) NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY. STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY. MINUTE BY MINUTE, THAT'S HOW YOU WIN IT. WE WILL FIND A WAY. BUT LET US SEIZE THE DAY. (CRUTCHIE arrives with a rag painted “STRIKE!” hanging from his crutch.) CRUTCHIE: Hey Jack. Look what I made! Good, huh? Strike! RACE: (To Crutchie) That’s great. (To Davey) That’s pitiful. LES: Don’t be so quick to judge. Maybe Pulitzer will it out his window and feel sorry for us. JACK: (call up to chalkboard platform) Hey Specs, any sign of reinforcements? (thumbs down) Davey…? DAVEY: COURAGE CANNOT ERASE OUR FEAR. COURAGE IS WHEN WE FACE OUR FEAR. TELL THOSE WITH POWER, SAFE IN THEIR TOWER, WE WILL NOT OBEY (DAVEY steps up next to JACK as the scene shifts to the distribution window.) DAVEY & JACK: BEHOLD THE BRAVE BATTALION THAT STANDS SIDE BY SIDE, TOO FEW IN NUMBER AND TOO PROUD TO HIDE. THEN SAY TO THE OTHERS WHO DID NOT FOLLOW THROUGH,
"YOU'RE STILL OUR BROTHERS, AND WE WILL FIGHT FOR YOU." (The circulation bell rings. The NEWSIES ignore it.) DAVEY, RACE, JACK & CRUTCHIE: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY. STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY. (Other NEWSIES gradually join in until all are singing.) NEWSIES: ONCE WE'VE BEGUN, IF WE STAND AS ONE, SOMEDAY BECOMES SOMEHOW, AND THE PRAYER BECOMES A VOW, JACK: AND THE STRIKE STARTS HERE AND NOW! (The circulation bell rings again. WIESEL pushes his window open.) WIESEL: The sun is up and the birds is singin’. A beautiful day to crack some heads, ain’t it? Step right up and get your papes. MORRIS: (stepping forward) You workin’ or trespassin’? What’s your pleasure? (EVERYONE tenses. Three SCABS walk on and head toward the circulation window to collect their papers.) DAVEY: Who are they? JACK: Scabs. What do you think? FINCH: If they think they can just waltz in here and take our jobs – CRUTCHIE: We can handle them! (The NEWSIES move menacingly forward as the SCABS collect their papers from the distribution window.) ROMEO: Let’s soak ‘em boys! FINCH: Yeah! Let’s get ‘em! DAVEY: No! We all stand together or we don’t have a chance! (calling for help) Jack! JACK: All right. I know. I hear ya. (Looks to his NEWSIES, then addresses the SCABS.) Listen, fellas… I know somebody put youse up to this. Probably paid ya some extra money too. Yeah? Well, it ain’t right. Pulitzer thinks we’re gutter rats with no respect for nothin’, includin’ each other. Is that who we are? Well, we stab each other in the back and, yeah, that’s who we are. But if we stand together, we change the whole game. 26 And it ain’t just about us. All across this city there are boys and girls who ought to be out playin’ or going to school. Instead they’re slavin’ to support themselves and their folks. Ain’t no crime to bein’ poor, and not a one of us complains if the work we do is hard. All we ask is a square deal. Fellas… for the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory and slaughterhouse in this town, I beg you… throw down your papers and join the strike. LES: Please? SCAB 1: (The SCABS look at each other, and the first steps forward) I’m with ya. (The first SCAB throws down his papers. The NEWSIES surround the two remaining SCABS.) DAVEY: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY! NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY! DAVEY: ANSWER THE CALL AND DON'T DELAY! NEWSIES: ANSWER THE CALL AND DON'T DELAY! WRONGS WILL BE RIGHTED IF WE'RE UNITED! LET US SEIZE THE DAY! (The second SCAB throws down his papers and joins the NEWSIES. MORRIS DELANCY reaches for the bundle, but JACK stops him.) SCAB 3: You’re kidding, right? SCAB 2: At the end of the day, who are you gonna trust? (to DELANCEYS) Them… (to NEWSIES) or them? (The second SCAB throws his satchel back at WIESEL as the NEWSIES surround SCAB 3.) JACK: NOW LET 'EM HEAR IT LOUD AND CLEAR! NEWSIES: NOW LET 'EM HEAR IT LOUD AND CLEAR! JACK: LIKE IT OR NOT, WE'RE DRAWING NEAR! NEWSIES: LIKE IT OR NOT, WE'RE DRAWING NEAR! PROUD AND DEFIANT, WE'LL SLAY THE GIANT! JUDGMENT DAY IS HERE! (The third SCAB throws down his papers.) SCAB 3: Oh… who cares? Me father’s gonna kill me anyway! (The NEWSIES cheer.) NEWSIES: HOUSTON TO HARLEM, LOOK WHAT'S BEGUN! ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE! STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, OH….. STRIKE! (JACK leads the NEWSIES in a triumphant dance. The DELANCEYS break in, punch DAVEY and JACK, and grab LES. The rest of the NEWSIES save LES, chase them off, and celebrate.) NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY! THEY'RE GONNA SEE THEY’LL HAVE TO PAY! NOTHING CAN BREAK US NO ONE CAN MAKE US QUIT BEFORE WE'RE DONE! ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE! (KATHERINE arrives with her PHOTOGRAPHER, who shoots a triumphant photo of JACK, DAVEY, LES, and the NEWSIES. The ecstatic NEWSIES toss newspapers all over the square.) #10A- Seize The Day (Tag)- Newsies 27 NEWSIES: NEWSIES FOREVER! SECOND TO NONE! ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR… ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR…
(The gates swing open to reveal WIESEL, the DELANCEYS, and several GOONS. The NEWSIES stop dead in their tracks. – then a fight ensues.) #11- The Fight WIESEL: Time these kids learned a lesson. (The MEN advance.) JACK: Newsies! Get ‘em! (The NEWSIES run to the wagons and toss bundles of papers at the MEN. The MEN surge forward and the fight is more or less even. Suddenly a POLICEMEN appears and blows his whistle. ROMEO runs excitedly to him.) ROMEO: It’s about time you showed up. They’re slaughtering us— (The POLICEMAN smacks ROMEO to the ground. SNYDER appears.) JACK: Cheese it, fellas! It’s the bulls! (As more POLICEMEN arrive, many NEWSIES take flight. Some are hit, others are snatched up and taken away. The NEWSIES are helpless against the MEN. SNYDER appears.) SYNDER: You can’t run forever, Kelly! (JACK sees SNYDER and starts to make his escape.) CRUTCHIE: Jack? Wait for me! (JACK reaches back for CRUTCHIE, but he is grabbed by OSCAR and MORRIS DELANCEY. JACK continues to run.) OSCAR: (to CRUTCHIE) Where ya think you’re goin’? CRUTCHIE: Jack! Help! Romeo! Albert! Finch! MORRIS: Shut it, Crip. (MORRIS punches CRUTCHIE, knocking him to the ground. SNYDER beats him with his crutch and slaps on handcuffs.) SNYDER: It’s off to The Refuge with you, little man. (to the POLICEMAN) Take him away. (JACK watches as the POLICEMAN drags CRUTCHIE off.) JACK: Crutchie! SNYDER: Jack Kelly! (JACK ducks out of the square and runs to the safety of his rooftop.) SCENE NINE: Rooftop (Papers flutter down on the emptying square under a haunting moon. Lost in the wreckage of the failed protest below, JACK paces, desolate.) #12- Santa Fe- Jack JACK: FOLKS, WE FINALLY GOT OUR HEADLINE "NEWSIES CRUSHED AS BULLS ATTACK" CRUTCHIE'S CALLING ME POOR CRIP'S JUST MOVES TOO SLOW GUYS ARE FIGHTIN', BLEEDIN', FALLIN' THANKS TO GOOD OLE' CAPTAIN JACK CAPTAIN JACK JUST WANTS TO CLOSE HIS EYES AND GO! LET ME GO FAR AWAY SOMEWHERE THEY WON'T EVER FIND ME AND TOMORROW WON’T REMIND ME OF TODAY AND THE CITY’S FINALLY SLEEPIN’ AND THE MOON LOOKS OLD AND GREY 28 I GET ON A TRAIN THAT’S BOUND FOR SANTA FE AND I’M GONEAND I’M DONE NO MORE RUNNING. NO MORE LYING NO MORE FAT OLD MAN DENYING ME MY PAY JUST A MOON SO BIG AND YELLOW, IT TURNS NIGHT RIGHT INTO DAY DREAMS COME TRUE. YEAH THEY DO. IN SANTA FE WHERE DOES IT SAY YOU GOTTA LIVE AND DIE HERE? WHERE DOES IT SAY A GUY CAN’T CATCH A BREAK? WHY SHOULD YOU ONLY TAKE WHAT YOU’RE GIVEN? WHY SHOULD YOU SPEND YOUR WHOLE LIFE LIVING TRAPPED WHERE THERE AIN’T NO FUTURE EVEN AT 17! BREAKING YOUR BACK FOR SOMEONE ELSE’S SAKE! IF THE LIFE DON’T SEEM TO SUIT YOU, HOW ABOUT A CHANGE OF SCENE? FAR FROM THE LOUSY HEADLINES, AND THE DEADLINES IN BETWEEN SANTA FE, MY OLD FRIEND I CAN’T SPEND MY WHOLE LIFE DREAMING THOUGH I KNOW THAT’S ALL I SEEM INCLINED TO DO I AIN’T GETTING ANY YOUNGER AND I WANNA START BRAND NEW I NEED SPACE. AND FRESH AIR LET ‘EM LAUGH IN MY FACE. I DON’T CARE SAVE MY PLACE, I’LL BE THERE JUST BE REAL IS ALL I’M ASKING NOT SOME PAINTING IN MY HEAD CAUSE I’M DEAD IF I CAN’T COUNT ON YOU TODAY I GOT NOTHING IF I AIN’T GOT SANTA FE! (End of Act One.) 29 ACT TWO SCENE ONE: Jacobi’s Deli, Next Morning #12A- Entr’acte (DAVEY and the NEWSIES are quietly ignoring their drinks. MS. JACOB enters.) MS. JACOBI: Drink up, boys. And don’t never say I don’t give you nothing. And before you say water is nothing, just ask a fish in the desert. (MS. JACOBI exits.) FINCH: Why do old people talk? RACE: To prove they’re still alive. (KATHERINE arrives with a newspaper.) KATHERINE: Good morning, gentlemen. Would you get a load of these glum mugs? Can these really be the same boys who made front page of the New York Sun? ROMEO: Front page of what? (The NEWSIES rush towards KATHERINE and snatch the paper.) SALAMI: Lemme see! Lemme see! BUDDY: Look at that!? RACE: Would you lookit? Dat’s me! Dat’s me! JO JO: Front page and you ain’t even dead. TOMMY BOY: There I am! (Pointing to the paper) ROMEO: Where’s me? Where’s me? BUTTONS: Wait till my old man gets a load of dis. I won’t be last in line for the tub tonight.
DAVEY: (to KATHERINE) You got us the pape? KATHERINE: You got yourself in the pape. MUSH: “Newsies Stop the World”- now, there’s a headline even Elmer could sell! ELMER: Hey! SPECS: What else do you got? KATHERINE: Mine’s the only story that ran. Pulitzer declared a blackout on strike news, so even I’m shut down now. I heard they arrested Crutchie. Did they get Jack too? ALBERT: The Delanceys are spreading a story that he took it on the lam, first sight of the cops. LES: (charges ALBERT) Jack don’t run from no fight! ALBERT: Take it down, short-stop. I’m just reportin’ the news. CRISS-CROSS: Where’d he go? SPLASHER: I checked the usual places. No luck. CURLY: Wonder where he ended up? RACE: For jumpin’ Jack’s sake. Can you stow the seriosity long enough to drink in the moment? I’m famous! HENRY: What of it? RACE: Are you stupid or what? You’re famous, the world is your erster? HENRY: Your what? RACE: Your erster! Your erster! Your fancy clam with a pearl inside. HENRY: How much does bein’ famous pay? RACE: Ya don’t need money when you’re famous. They gives ya whatever ya want gratis! HENRY: Such as...? 30 #13- King of New York- Davey, Katherine, Les, Newsies RACE: A PAIR OF NEW SHOES WITH MATCHIN' LACES... ROMEO: A PERMANENT BOX AT THE SHEEPSHEAD RACES... HENRY: PASTRAMI ON RYE WITH A SOUR PICKLE... FINCH: MY PERSONAL PUSS ON A WOODEN NICKLE.. RACE: LOOK AT ME: I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! SUDDENLY I'M RESPECTABLE, STARING RIGHT AT' CHA, LOUSY WITH STA'CHA. ALBERT: NOBBIN' WITH ALL THE MUCKETY- MUCKS, I'M BLOWING MY DOUGH AND GOIN' DELUXE. RACE: AND THERE I BE! AIN'T I PRETTY? RACE & HENRY: IT'S MY CITY. I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! JO JO: A SOLID GOLD WATCH WITH A CHAIN TO TWIRL IT... LES: MY VERY OWN BED AND A INDOOR TERLET... MUSH: A BARBERSHOP HAIRCUT THAT COSTS A QUARTER... DAVEY: (indicating KATHERINE) A REGULAR BEAT FOR THE STAR REPORTER! RACE: AM-SCRAY, PUNK, SHE'S THE KING OF NEW YORK! KATHERINE: WHO'D'A THUNK! I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! NEWSIES: WE WAS SUNK, PALE AND PITIFUL, KATHERINE: BUNCH OF WET NOODLES, KATHERINE & NEWSIES: PULITZER'S POODLES. LES: ALMOST ABOUT TO DROWN IN THE DRINK, BUTTONS: WHEN SHE FISHED US OUT RACE: AND DROWNED US IN INK! KATHERINE: SO LET'S GET DRUNK! NEWSIES: YEAH! KATHERINE: NOT WITH LIQUOR. FAME WORKS QUICKER WHEN YOUR KING OF NEW YORK. NEWSIES: I GOTTA BE EITHER DEAD OR DREAMIN', ' CAUSE LOOK AT THAT PAPE WITH MY FACE BEAMIN'. TOMORROW THEY MAY WRAP FISHES IN IT, BUT I WAS A STAR FOR ONE WHOLE MINUTE! (The NEWSIES and KATHERINE dance in the deli.) KATHERINE AND NEWSIES: LOOK AT ME! I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! WAIT AND SEE: THIS GONNA MAKE BOTH DELANCEYS PEE IN THEIR PANT-SIES. FLASHPOTS ARE SHOOTIN' BRIGHT AS THE SUN! I'M ONE HIHFALLUTIN' SON-OF-A-GUN! I GUARANTEE: THOUGH I CRAPPED OUT, I AIN'T TAPPED OUT! I'M THE KING OF NEW- 31 FRIENDS MAY FLEE. LET 'EM DITCH 'YA! SNAP ONE PIT'CHA, YOU'RE THE KING OF NEWHISTORY! FRONT PAGE STORY, GUTS AND GLORY, I'M THE KING… OF NEW YORK! #13A- King of New York (Tag) SCENE TWO: The Refuge #14- Letter From The Refuge- Crutchie (In an empty corner, CRUTCHIE is sitting on a bed holding a pencil and paper. A lighted candle sits nearby. Other REFUGE KIDS are sleeping on the floor around him. He reads what he’s written.) CRUTCHIE: “ Dear Jack. Greetings from The Refuge! HOW ARE YOU? I'M OKAY GUESS I WASN'T MUCH HELP YESTERDAY SNYDER SOAKED ME REAL GOOD WITH MY CRUTCH (writes) OH YEAH, JACK? THIS IS CRUTCHIE BY THE WAY (back to reading) THESE HERE GUARDS, THEY IS RUDE THEY SAY "JUMP BOY, YOU JUMP OR YOU'RE SCREWED!" BUT THE FOOD AIN'T SO BAD LEAST SO FAR, 'CAUSE SO FAR, THEY AIN'T BRUNG US NO FOOD! HA, HA I MISS THE ROOFTOP (stops reading, daydreams) SLEEPING RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN IN YOUR PENTHOUSE IN THE SKY THERE'S A COOL BREEZE BLOWIN' EVEN IN JULY (stops daydreaming, continues reading) ANY WAY, SO GUESS WHAT! THERE'S THIS SECRET ESCAPE PLAN I'VE GOT! TIE A SHEET TO BED, TOSS THE END OUT THE WINDOW CLIMB DOWN AND TAKE OFF LIKE A SHOT! MAYBE THOUGH, NOT TONIGHT I AIN'T SLEPT, AND MY LEG STILL AIN'T RIGHT!
BUT HEY, PULITZER! HE'S GOIN' DOWN! THEN JACK, I WAS THINKING WE MIGHT JUST GO, LIKE YOU WAS SAYIN' (daydreaming again) WHERE IT'S CLEAN AND GREEN AND PRETTY WITH NO BUILDINGS IN YOUR WAY AND YOUR RIDING PALOMINOS, EVERY DAY! ONCE THAT TRAIN MAKES (A KID on the bed kicks CRUTCHIE.) REFUGE KID REGGIE: Shut it crip. CRUTCHIE: Sorry. Ugh. This place (back to reading) I'LL BE FINE. GOOD AS NEW BUT THERE'S ONE THING I NEED YA TO DO 32 ON THE ROOFTOP YOU SAID THAT A FAM'LY LOOKS OUT FOR EACH OTHER SO TELL ALL THE FELLAS FROM ME, TO PROTECT ONE ANOTHER! (pauses, writes) THE END. YOUR FRIEND... (thinks, writes) YOUR BEST FRIEND... (hesitates, then crosses it out, writes) YOUR BROTHER...CRUTCHIE.” SNYDER: (offstage) You in there- pipe down! (CRUTCHIE blows out the candle.). #14A- Letter From the Refuge (Playoff) SCENE THREE: Medda’s Theater (JACK paints a backdrop of the Taos Mountains. It’s almost finished. MEDDA enters in a dressing robe.) MEDDA: Here’s everything I owe you for the first backdrop, plus this one, and even a little something extra just account’a because I’m gonna miss you so. (MEDDA hands JACK an envelope full of money.) JACK: Miss Medda. MEDDA: Jack. JACK: You’re a gem. MEDDA: Just tell me you’re going somewhere and not running away. JACK: Does it matter? MEDDA: When you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place, you can always go somewhere else. But you’re running away, nowhere’s ever the right place. (DAVEY finds his way in through the stage flies, excited to see JACK.) DAVEY: How ‘bout lettin’ a pal know you’re alive? MEDDA: I’ll leave you with your friend. (MEDDA exits.) DAVEY: Where’d you go? We couldn’t find you. JACK: Ever think I didn’t wanna be found? DAVEY: (indicating the backdrop) Is that a real place? That Santa Fe? (suddenly remembering, holds out the newspaper) Hey! You see the pape? We’re front page news, above the fold. Oh, yes. Above the fold. JACK: Good for you. DAVEY: Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelly. Even Spot Conlon sent a kid just to say: next even you can count on Brooklyn. How about that? JACK: We got stomped into the ground. DAVEY: They got us this time. I’ll grant you that. But we took round one. And with the press like this our fight is far from over. JACK: Every Newsie who could walk showed up this morning to sell papes like the strike never happened. DAVEY: And I was there with them. If I don’t sell papes, my folks don’t eat. JACK: Save your breath. I get it. It’s hopeless. DAVEY: But then I saw this look on Weasel’s face; he was actually nervous. And I realized this isn’t over. We got them worried. Really worried. And I walked away. Lots of other kids did, too. And that is what you call a beginning. (LES enters, calling to KATHERINE behind him.) LES: There he is, just like I said. JACK: For cryin’ out loud... where’s a fella gotta go to get away from you people? DAVEY: There’s no escapin’ us, pal. We’re inevitable. 33 LES: (to DAVEY) So, what’s the story? Can we have the theater? DAVEY: Pipe down. I didn’t ask yet. LES: What’s the hold up? I need to let my girl know we’ve got a date. DAVEY: Your girl? LES: You heard me. I’ve been swattin’ skirts away all morning. Fame is one intoxicatin’ potion. And this girl, Sally, she’s a plum. JACK: (sees KATHERINE) Word is you wrote a great story. KATHERINE: (tentatively approaches JACK) You look terrible. LES: (studying the painting) Hey, Jack. Where’s that supposed to be? JACK: It’s Santa Fe. KATHERINE: I’ve got to tell you, Jack, this “Go west, young man” routine is getting tired. Evan Horace Greeley moved back to New York. LES: Yes, he did. And then he died. JACK: Ain’t reporters supposed to be non-partisan? KATHERINE: Ask a reporter. Pulitzer’s had me blacklisted from every news desk in town— LES: Can we table the palaver and get back to business? Will Medda let us have the theater? DAVEY: (to JACK) it’s what I been trying to tell you: we want to hold a rally – a citywide meeting where every Newsie gets a say and a vote. And we do it after working hours so no one loses a day’s pay. Smart?
JACK: Smart enough to get you committed to a padded room. KATHERINE: The guy who paints places he’s never seen is calling us crazy? JACK: Want to see a place I seen? How about this? #14B- Jack’s Painting (JACK turns the backdrop around and reveals a large, passionately executed political cartoon of the Newsies being crushed by Pulitzer in Newsie Square. DAVEY, LES, and KATHERINE stare in awe.) JACK: Newsie Square, thanks to my big mouth, filled to overflowing with failure. Kids hurt, others arrested— DAVEY: Lighten up. No one died. JACK: Is that what you’re aiming for? Go on and call me a quitter, call me a coward. No way I’m puttin’ them kids back in danger. DAVEY: We’re doing something that has never been done before. How could that not be dangerous? JACK: Specs brung me a note from Crutchie at The Refuge. I tried to see him. Climbed down the fire escape. But they busted him up so bad he couldn’t even come to the window. What if he don’t make it? You willing to shoulder that for a tenth of a penny a pape? DAVEY: It’s not about pennies. You said it yourself: my family wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in now if my father had a union. This is a fight we have to win. JACK: If I wanted a sermon, I’d show up for church. #15- Watch What Happens (Reprise)- Davey, Jack, Katherine, Les DAVEY: Tell me how quitting does Crutchie does any good? (JACK doesn’t answer him.) Exactly. So... HERE'S HOW IT GOES, ONCE WE WIN AND WE "WILL" BE WINNING, MAKE NO MISTAKE JACK: WE'LL BE WHAT? DAVEY: WE'RE ALREADY WINNING 34 JACK: RIGHT DAVEY: AND WE'LL TELL THEM STRAIGHT OUT THEY LET CRUTCHIE GO OR THEY KEEP GETTING POUNDED JACK: DAVE, WHAT THE HECK? DID THEY BUST UP YOUR BRAINS OR SOMETHIN'? AS I RECALL, DAVE WE ALL GOT OUR BUTTS KICKED, THEY WON. DAVEY: WON THE BATTLE. JACK: OH COME ON DAVEY: JACKIE, THINK ABOUT IT, WE GOT THEM SURRONDED JACK: HERE'S WHAT I THINK, JOE'S A JERK! HE'S A RATTLE SNAKE DAVEY: YOU'RE RIGHT! AND YOU KNOW WHY A SNAKE STARTS TO RATTLE? JACK: NO WHY? DAVEY: ‘CAUSE HE'S SCARED. JACK: SURE. DAVEY: GO AND LOOK IT UP. THE POOR GUY'S HEAD IS SPINNING. WHY WOULD HE SEND FOR THE GOONS, AN ENTIRE ARMY? DOZENS OF GOONS AND COPS, ANDJACK: YOU KNOW YOU MAY BE RIGHT DAVEY: THANK YOU, GOD! JACK: IF HE WASN'T AFRAID - DAVEY: EXACTLY! JACK & DAVEY: HE KNOWS WE'RE WINNING JACK, DAVEY, KATHERINE, AND LES: GET THOSE KIDS TO SEE WE'RE CIRCLING VICTORY AND WATCH WHAT HAPPENS WE'RE DOING SOMETHING NO ONE'S EVEN TRIED AND YES, WE'RE TERRIFIED BUT WATCH WHAT HAPPENS JACK: YOU CAN'T UNDO THE PAST DAVEY: SO JUST MOVE ON DAVEY & KATHERINE: AND STAY ON TRACK LES: STAY ON TRACK JACK, DAVEY, KATHERINE, AND LES: ‘CAUSE HUMPTY DUMPTY IS ABOUT TO CRACK KATHERINE: WE'VE GOT FAITH! DAVEY: WE'VE GOT THE PLAN! LES: AND WE'VE GOT JACK! JACK, DAVEY, KATHERINE, AND LES: SO JUST WATCH WHAT HAPPENS... WE'RE BACK! LES: And I've got a date! #15A- Back to Pulitzer’s Office 35 SCENE FOUR: Pulitzer’s Office & Cellar, Afternoon (The MAYOR, SEITZ, BUNSEN, and PULITZER are in a heated discussion. KATHERINE sits, listening quietly.) MAYOR: ...but I’ve read your editorials, Mr. Pulitzer. How can you express so much sympathy for the trolley workers and yet have none for the Newsies? PULITZER: Because the trolley workers are striking for a fair contract. The Newsies are striking against me! MAYOR: I’d spare you the embarrassment if I could, but Miss Medda’s Theater is private property. BUNSEN: He can’t order a raid without legal cause. PULITZER: Mr. Mayor, would the fact that this rally is organized by an escaped convict be enough to shut it down? MAYOR: An escaped convict? PULITZER: A fugitive from one of your own institutions. A convicted thief, at large, reeking mischief on our law-abiding community. (turns his desk chair around to reveal SNYDER and holds out the newspaper.) Mr. Snyder, which one is he? SNYDER: (pointing to the photo) That one there: Jack Kelly. MAYOR: And how do you know this boy? SNYDER: His is not a pleasant story. He was the first sentenced to my Refuge for loitering and vagrancy,
but his total disregard for authority has made him a frequent visitor. MAYOR: You called him a thief and escaped convict. SNYDER: After his release I caught him myself, red-handed, trafficking stolen food and clothing. He was last sentenced to six months, but the willful ruffian escaped. PULITZER: So you’d be doing the city a service removing this criminal from our streets. MAYOR: If that’s the case, we can take him in quietly and— PULITZER: (exploding) What good would quiet do me??? I want a public example made of him!!! (HANNAH rushes into the office.) HANNAH: Mr. Pulitzer- the boy, Jack Kelly, is here. PULITZER: Here? HANNAH: Just outside. He’s asked to see you. PULITZER: Ask and ye shall be received. Mr. Snyder, if you please. Sit. (PULITZER directs SNYDER to retreat to the shadowy corner and spins KATHERINE in the swivel chair so she’s hidden as well. HANNAH escorts JACK into the room.) HANNAH: Mr. Jack Kelly. JACK: Afternoon, boys... PULITZER: And which Jack Kelly is this? The charismatic union organizer, or the petty thief and escaped convict? JACK: Which one gives us more in common? PULITZER: Impudence is in bad taste when crawling for mercy. JACK: Crawlin’? That’s a laugh, I just dropped by with an invite. Seems a few hundred of your employees are rallying to discuss recent disagreements. I thought it only fair to invite you to state your case straight to the fellas. So what’d’ya say, Joe? Want I should save you a spot on the bill? PULITZER: You are as shameless and disrespectful a creature as I was told. Do you know what I was doing when I was your age, boy? I was fighting in a war. JACK: Yeah? How’d that turn out for ya? PULITZER: It taught me a lesson that shaped my life. You don’t win a war on the battlefield. It’s the 36 headline that crowns the victor. JACK: I’ll keep that in mind when New York wakes up to front-page photos of our rally. PULITZER: Rally till the cows come home. Not a paper in town will publish a word. And if it’s not in the papers, it never happened. JACK: You may run this city, but there are some of us who can’t be bullied. Even some reporters... PULITZER: Such as that young woman who made you yesterday’s news? Talented girl. And beautiful as well, don’t you think? JACK: I’ll tell her you said so. PULITZER: No need. She can hear for herself. Can’t you, darling? Katherine stands up. JACK steps back in surprise.) I trust you know my daughter, Katherine. (lets that sink in) Yes. My daughter. You are probably asking, why the nom de plume and why doesn’t my daughter work for me? Good questions. I offered Katherine a life of wealth and leisure. Instead she chose to pursue a career. And she was showing real promise, until this recent lapse. But you’re done with all of that now, are you, sweetheart? KATHERINE: Jack, I— PULITZER: Don’t trouble the boy with your problems, dearest. Mr. Kelly has a plateful of his own. Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Snyder? (SNYDER steps into sight.) SNYDER: Hello, Jack. (JACK tries to run for the door, but is stopped by the DELANCYES. He realizes he’s trapped.) PULITZER: Ow! Does anyone else feel a noose tightening? But allow me to offer an alternate scenario: you attend the rally and speak against this hopeless strike, and I’ll see your criminal record expunged and your pockets filled with enough cash to carry you, in a first-class train compartment, from New York to New Mexico and beyond. (to KATHERINE) You did say he wanted to travel west, didn’t you? JACK: There ain’t a person in this room who don’t know you stink. PULITZER: And if they know me, they know I don’t care. Mark my words, boy. Defy me, and I will have you and every one of your friends locked up in The Refuge. I know you’re Mr. Tough Guy, but it’s not right to condemn that little crippled boy to conditions like that. And what about your pal Davey and his baby brother, ripped from their loving family and tossed to the rats? Will they ever be able to thank you enough? #16- The Bottom Line (Reprise)- Pulitzer, Seitz, Bunsen PULITZER: TIME’S RUNNING OUT, KID SO WHAT DO YOU SAY?
COWBOY OR CONVICT, I WIN EITHER WAY! YOUR ABJECT SURRENDER WAS ALWAYS THE BOTTOM LINE! PULITZER: Gentlemen, escort our guest to the cellar so he might reflect in solitude. (The DELANCEYS lead JACK out of the office and into the cellar.) TOO BAD YOU’VE NO JOB, JACK, BUT YOU DID RESIGN TOO BAD YOU’VE NO FAMILY, BUT YOU CAN’T HAVE MINE BE GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE, BOY- I’D SAY THAT’S THE BOTTOM LINE SEITZ: LIKE THE PIED PIPER YOU KNEW WHAT TO PLAY PULITZER: TILL THOSE KIDS ALL BELIEVED YOU WERE RIGHT BUNSEN: LUCKY FOR THEM ALL BUT ONE GOT AWAY PULITZER: THEY MAY NOT BE SO LUCKY TONIGHT The DELANCEYS deposit JACK in a dark space populated with nothing but a printing press.) MORRIS: We been given discretion to handle you as we see fit, so behave. 37 OSCAR: But, just in case, I been polishin’ my favorite brass knuckles. (Morris pulls the dust-covered tarp off of the old press and tosses it to JACK.) MORRIS: You can sleep right here on this old printing press. (slaps the hard surface) Now that there is firm. (OSCAR and MORRIS exit as JACK hopelessly takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, a familiar drumbeat sounds in military style. Voices are heard offstage.) #17- Brooklyn’s Here- Spot, Newsies SPOT: Come on Brooklyn! BROOKLYN NEWSIES: Newsies need our help today! (Newsies need our help today) Tell 'em Brooklyn's on their way! (Tell ‘em Brooklyn’s on their way!) We're from... (Brooklyn!) We are... (Newsies!) We are… (Brooklyn) Newsies! (The scene shifts to the Brooklyn Bridge as a cavalry of BROOKLYN NEWSIES make their way to the rally.) SCENE FIVE: Brooklyn Bridge & Medda’s Theater, Evening BROOKLYN NEWSIES: JUST GOT WORD THAT OUR BUDDIES IS HURTIN', FACIN' TOTAL DISASTER FOR CERTAIN. THAT'S OUR CUE, BOYS: IT'S TIME TO GO SLUMMIN'. HEY MANHATTAN, THE CAVALRY'S COMIN'! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 1: HAVE NO FEAR! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 2: YOU KNOW WE GOT YOUR BACK FROM WAY BACK! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 1: BROOKLYN'S HERE! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 2: WE'LL GET YOU PAY BACK WITH SOME PAYBACK! BROOKLYN NEWSIES: WE'RE THE BOYS FROM THE BEACHES OF BRIGHTON, PROSPECT PARK AND THE NAVY YARD PIER. STRIKES AIN'T FUN, BUT THEY SURE IS EXCITIN'. LOUD AND CLEAR! BROOKLYN'S HERE! SPOT: BOROUGH WHAT GAVE ME BIRTH, BROOKLYN NEWSIES: FRIENDLIEST PLACE ON EARTH. PAY US A VISIT AND SEE WHAT WE MEAN, AND WHEN YA DO, (WHEN YA DO, WHEN YA DO) WE'LL KICK YA HALFWAY TO QUEENS! (The BROOKLYN NEWSIES arrive at Medda’s Theater. With JACK’s political cartoon of Newsie Square as the backdrop, the theater begins to fill with NEWSIES from all five boroughs, singing and waving banners and placards.) BROOKLYN NEWSIES: NOW THEM SOAKERS IS IN FOR A SOAKIN'. WHAT A SAD WAY TO END A CAREER. THEY'S A JOKE, BUT IF THEY THINKS WE'RE JOKIN'. LOUD AND CLEAR! MANHATTAN NEWSIES: MANHATTAN'S HERE! FLUSHING NEWSIES: FLUSHING'S HERE! RICHMOND NEWSIES: RICHMOND'S HERE! WOODSIDE NEWSIES: WOODSIDE'S HERE! BRONX NEWSIE: SO'S DA BRONX! BROOKLYN NEWSIES: BROOKLYN'S HERE! ALL NEWSIES: LOUD AND CLEAR: WE IS HERE!! 38 (The NEWSIES go crazy. LES is seated with SALLY. SPOT shakes hands with DAVEY in the center of the stage as MEDDA steps forward.) MEDDA: Welcome, Newsies of New York City. Welcome to my theater and your revolution! (CROWD cheers.) DAVEY: Let’s here it for Spot Conlon and Brooklyn! SPOT: Newsies united! Let’s see what Pulitzer has to say to you now. SALLY: Hey Les, where’s Jack? FINCH: Yeah Davey, where is Jack? NEWSIES: Yeah. We want Jack! Where is he? (DAVEY looks to MEDDA for help.) MEDDA: Sorry, kid. No sign of him yet. Looks like you’re doing a solo. NEWSIES: JACK! JACK! JACK! JACK! (DAVEY timidly takes the stage.) DAVEY: Newsies of New York... look at what we’ve done! We’ve got Newsies from every pape and every neighborhood here tonight. Tonight you’re making history. (NEWSIES cheer.) Tonight we declare that we’re just as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor. (The cheers grow louder.) We’re done being treated like kids. From now on they will treat us as equals. (JACK appears from the back of the theater and starts down the aisle.)
JACK: You wanna be talked to like an adult? Then start actin’ like one. Don’t just run your mouth. Make some sense. DAVEY: And here’s Jack! NEWSIES: Jack! Jack! Jack! (JACK climbs up onto the stage as DAVEY heaves a sigh of relief. KATHERINE has arrived and stands in the balcony.) JACK: (quieting the NEWSIES) All right. Pulitzer raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us. That was a lousy thing to do. (The NEWSIES cheer.) So we got made and let ‘em know we ain’t gonna be pushed around. (More cheers.) So we go on strike. Then what happens? Pulitzer lowers the price so’s we’ll go back to work! And a few weeks later he hikes the price back up again, and don’t think he won’t. so what do we do then? And what do we do if he decides to raise his price again after that? (Davey and the NEWSIES look to each other, confused by what JACK is saying.) Fellas, we gotta be realistic. We don’t work, we don’t get paid. How many days can you go without makin’ money? However long, believe me, Pulitzer can go longer. (The NEWSIES boo.) But I have spoken to Mr. Pulitzer and he has given me his word: if we disband the union, he will not raise prices again for two years. He will even put it in writing. (The boos are now drowning out JACK.) I say we take the deal. Go back to work knowing that our price is secure. All we need to do is vote “NO” on the strike. Vote “NO”! (The boos overwhelm JACK. He walks toward the wings, where BUNSEN is waiting with a wad of cash. He holds out the money out and JACK pockets it, looking around guiltily. LES reaches out, but JACK muscles him away and rushes out. The NEWSIES are furious, and their booing echoes across the theater, and the city, as the scene transitions...) SCENE SIX: Rooftop, Night #17A- To The Rooftop (KATHERINE has discovered JACK’s drawings stuffed in an air vent pipe and opens them up. JACK arrives.) KATHERINE: That was some speech you made. JACK: How’d you get here? 39 KATHERINE: Specs showed me. JACK: (snatches his drawings) He say you could go through my stuff? KATHERINE: I saw them rolled up, sticking out of there. I didn’t know what they were. These drawings...? These are drawings of The refuge, aren’t they? (takes the drawings back and studies them closer) is this really what it’s like in there: three boys to a bed, rats everywhere, and vermin? JACK: A little different from where you were raised? KATHERINE: Snyder told my father you were arrested stealing food and clothing. This is why, isn’t it? You stole to feed those boys. (JACK, embarrassed, turns away.) I don’t understand. If you were willing to go to jail for those boys, how could you turn your back on them now? JACK: I don’t think you’re anyone to talk about turning on folks. KATHERINE: I never turned on you or anyone else. JACK: No. You just double crossed us to your father. Your father! KATHERINE: My father has eyes on every corner of this city. He doesn’t need me spying for him. And I never lied I didn’t tell you everything... JACK: If you weren’t a girl you’d be trying to talk with a fist in your mouth. KATHERINE: I said that I worked for the Sun, and I did. I told you my professional name was Plumber, and it is. You never asked my real one. JACK: I wouldn’t think I had to unless I knew I was dealing with a backstabber. KATHERINE: And if I was a boy, you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye. JACK: Don’t let that stop ya. Gimme your best shot. (JACK presents his face to her. KATHERINE, out of nowhere, grabs JACK and kisses him full on the lips. They part. A moment of silence and then JACK tries to get another kiss, but is blocked.) KATHERINE: I need to know you didn’t cave for the money. JACK: I spoke the truth. You win a fight when you got the other fella down eatin’ pavement. You heard your father. No matter how many days we strike, he ain’t givin’ up. I don’t now what else we can do. KATHERINE: Ah. But I do. JACK: Oh, come one... KATHERINE: Really, Jack? Really? Only you can have a good idea? Or is it because I’m a girl? JACK: I didn’t say nothin’...
KATHERINE: This would be a good time to shut up. Being boss doesn’t mean you have all the answers. Just the brains to recognize the right one when you hear it. JACK: I’m listening. KATHERINE: Good for you. The strike was your idea. The rally was Davey’s. and now my plan will take us to the finish line. Deal with it. (KATHERINE takes a piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to him.) JACK: (reading) “The Children’s Crusade”? KATHERINE: (snatches it back and reads) “For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughter house in New York. I beg you...join us.” With those words the strike stopped being just about the Newsies. You challenged our whole generation to stand up and demand a place at the table. JACK: “The Children’s Crusade”??? KATHERINE: Think, Jack, if we publish this- my words with one of your drawings- and if every worker under twenty-one read it and stayed home from work... or better yet, came to Newsie Square- a general city-wide strike! Even my father couldn’t ignore that. JACK: Only one small problem: we got no way to print it. KATHERINE: Come on, there has to be one printing press he doesn’t control. 40 JACK: (suddenly remembering) Oh no. KATHERINE: What? JACK: I know where there’s a printing press that no one would ever think we’d use. KATHERINE: Then why are we still standing here? (KATHERINE starts climbing down the fire escape ladder, but JACK stops her.) JACK: Wait. Stop. What’s this about for you? I don’t mean “The Children’s Crusade.” (indicating the two of them) What’s this about? Am I kiddin’ myself or is there something... KATHERINE: Of course there is. JACK: Well don’t say it like this happens every day! KATHERINE: Oh, Jack... JACK: I’m not an idiot. I know girls like you don’t wind up with guys like me. And I don’t want you promisin’ nothin’ you gotta take back later. But standing here tonight... lookin’ at you... I’m scared tomorrrow’s gonna come and change everything. #18- Something To Believe In- Katherine, Jack JACK: If there was a way I could grab hold of something to make time stop. Just so’s I could keep looking at you. KATHERINE: You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I never even saw it coming. JACK: For sure? KATHERINE: For sure. TIL THE MOMENT I FOUND YOU, I THOUGHT I KNEW WHAT LOVE WAS. NOW I'M LEARNING WHAT IS TRUE, THAT LOVE WILL DO WHAT IT DOES. THE WORLD FINDS WAYS TO STING YOU AND THEN ONE DAY, DECIDES TO BRING YOU SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN FOR EVEN A NIGHT. ONE NIGHT MAY BE FOREVER, BUT THAT'S ALRIGHT, THAT'S ALRIGHT. AND IF YOU'RE GONE TOMORROW, WHAT WAS OURS STILL WILL BE. I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. JACK: WE WAS NEVER MEANT TO MEET, AND THEN WE MEET, WHO KNOWS WHY. ONE MORE STRANGER ON THE STREET. JUST SOMEONE SWEET PASSIN' BY. AN ANGEL COME TO SAVE ME, WHO DIDN'T EVEN KNOW SHE GAVE ME SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN FOR EVEN A DAY. ONE DAY MAY BE FOREVER, BUT THAT'S OKAY, THAT'S OKAY. AND IF I'M GONE TOMORROW, WHAT WAS OURS STILL WILL BE. 41 I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. JACK AND KATHERINE: DO YOU KNOW WHAT I BELIEVE IN? LOOK INTO MY EYES AND SEE. (JACK and KATHERINE kiss until JACK pulls away.) JACK: If things were different... KATHERINE: What, if you weren't going to Santa Fe? JACK: And if you weren't an heiress. And if your father wasn't after my head. KATHERINE: (teasing) You're not really scared of my father. JACK: No, but I am pretty scared of you. KATHERINE: Don't be. JACK: AND IF I'M GONE TOMORROW... KATHERINE: WHAT WAS OURS STILL WILL BE. JACK AND KATHERINE: I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. JACK: I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, JACK AND KATHERINE: NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. (Lights fade as a drumbeat is heard.) SCENE SEVEN: Pulitzer’s Cellar #19- Seize The Day (Reprise)- Newsies (In the semi-darkness, the NEWSIES cross the stage, lanterns in hand, spreading the news to NY CITIZENS in conspiratorial whispers.) NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY
MINUTE BY MINUTE, THAT’S HOW YOU WIN IT. WE WILL FIND A WAY, BUT LET US SEIZE THE DAY. (JACK and KATHERINE enter the cellar. She hands him a ring of keys.) KATHERINE: I’ll get the lights. You get those windows unlocked. JACK: (goes to work undoing the window) You got enough keys here for the entire building. Has someone been picking daddy’s pockets? KATHERINE: The janitor’s been working here since he was eight year sold and hasn’t had a raise in twenty years. He’s with us one-hundred percent. (KATHERINE turns up the lights and uncovers the printing press. DAVEY, RACE, and a few other NEWSIES pour through the window. Two well-dressed kids, BILL and DARCY, go straight to work on the printing press.) JACK: (to DAVEY) You bring enough fellas to keep us covered? DAVEY: We could hold a hoe-down in here and no one would be the wiser. JACK: Good job. DAVEY: It’s good to have you back again. JACK: (apologizing, appreciatively, in his own way) Shut up. KATHERINE: Here she is, boys. Just think, while my father snores blissfully in his bed, we will be using his 42 very own press to bring him down. JACK: Remind me to stay on your good side. (RACE goes to the printing press) RACE: Is this what they print the papes on? DARCY: I can see why they tossed this old girl down to the cellar, but I think she will do the job. KATHERINE: Jack, this is Darcy. He knows just about everything there is to know about printing. JACK: You work for one of the papes? DARCY: My father owns the Trib. JACK: Whoa! KATHERINE: And this is Bill. He’ll be typesetting the article for us. JACK: (being funny) Bill? So I suppose you’re the son of William Randolph Hearst? BILL: And proud to be part of your revolution! JACK: (in awe) Ain’t that somethin’? KATHERINE: In the words of the little one, “Can we table the palaver and get down to business?” DARCY: A little grease and she’ll be good as gold. BILL: Great! Let’s get to work. #20- Once And For All- Jack, Davey, Katherine, Newsies DAVEY: All right. Here’s how it’ll work: as we print the papes, Race, you’ll let the fellas in and they’ll spread them to every workin’ kid in New York. After that…? (RACE takes his position at the window.) JACK: After that it’s up to them. THERE'S CHANGE COMIN' ONCE AND FOR ALL. YOU MAKES THE FRONT PAGE, AND MAN, YOU IS MAJOR NEWS. JACK & DAVEY: TOMORROW THEY'LL SEE WHAT WE ARE, JACK, DAVEY & KATHERINE: AND SURE AS STAR, WE AIN'T COME THIS FAR….TO LOSE! RACE: Here they come! (More NEWSIES take up their positions.) NEWSIES: THIS IS THE STORY WE NEEDED TO WRITE THAT’S BEEN KEPT OUT OF SIGHT, BUT NO MORE! IN A FEW HOURS, BY DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT WE'LL BE READY TO FIGHT US A WAR. THIS TIME WE'RE IN IT TO STAY. TALK ABOUT SEIZING THE DAY! JACK: WRITE IT IN INK OR IN BLOOD, IT'S THE SAME EITHER WAY: THEY'RE GONNA HAVE TO PAY! NEWSIES: SEE OL'MAN PULITZER SNUG IN HIS BED, HE DON'T CARE IF WE'RE DEAD OR ALIVE. THREE SATIN PILLOWS ARE UNDER HIS HEAD WHILE WE'RE BEGGIN' FOR BREAD TO SURVIVE. JOE, YOU CAN STOP COUNTIN' SHEEP. WE'RE GONNA SING YA TO SLEEP. THEN WHILE YA SNOOZE, WE’LL BE LIGHTIN’ A FUSE WITH A PROMISE WE’SE ACHIN’ TO KEEP. (BILL typesets the Newsies Banner.) JACK: ONCE AND FOR ALL, IF THEY DON'T MIND THEIR MANNERS WE'LL BLEED 'EM! NEWSIES: BLEED 'EM! 43 RACE: ONCE AND FOR ALL WE WON'T CARRY NO BANNERS THAT DON'T SPELL NEWSIES: “FREEDOM!" FIN'LLY WE'SE RAISIN' THE STAKES, THIS TIME WHATEVER IT TAKES, THIS TIME THE UNION AWAKES, ONCE AND FOR ALL! (DARCY pulls the first proof from the press and hands it to RACE. He passes it across the NEWSIES to KATHERINE.) KATHERINE: (reading) “In the words of union leader Jack Kelly, ‘We will work with you. We will even work for you. But we will be paid and treated as valuable members of your organizations.’” Riveting stuff, huh? JACK: (to KATHERINE) Get going. You’ve got a very important man to see. KATHERINE: Keep your fingers crossed. JACK: For us, too. (KATHERINE exits. The printing press churns away at a rhythmic pace. Papers are bundled. Bundles are passed between NEWSIES and collected for distribution.) NEWSIES:
THIS IS FOR KIDS SHININ' SHOES ON THE STREET WITH NO SHOES ON THEIR FEET EVERYDAY. THIS IS FOR GUYS SWEATIN' BLOOD IN THE SHOPS WHILE THE BOSSES AND COPS LOOK AWAY. I'M SEEIN' KIDS STANDIN' TALL, GLARING AND RARIN' TO BRAWL, ARMIES OF GUYS WHO ARE SICK OF THE LIES GETTIN' READY TO RISE TO THE CALL! ONCE AND FOR ALL THERE'LL BE BLOOD ON THE WALL IF THEY DOUBT US. THEY THINK THEY'RE RUNNING THIS TOWN BUT THIS TOWN WILL SHUT DOWN WITHOUT US! NEWSIES GROUP 1: TEN THOUSAND KIDS IN THE SQUARE! NEWSIES GROUP 2: TEN THOUSAND KIDS IN THE SQUARE NEWSIES GROUP 1: TEN THOUSAND FISTS IN THE AIR! NEWSIES GROUP 2: TEN THOUSAND FISTS! NEWSIES: JOE YOU IS GONNA PLAY FAIR, ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 1: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 2: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 1: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 2: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 1: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 2: ONCE AND FOR ALL! (Ready to hit the streets, the NEWSIES raise their papers in defiance.) NEWSIES: THERE'S CHANGE COMIN' ONCE AND FOR ALL. YOU'RE GETTING TOO OLD, TOO WEAK TO KEEP HOLDIN' ON. A NEW WORLD IS GUNNIN' FOR YOU, AND JOE WE IS TOO, TILL ONCE AND FOR ALL, YOU'RE GONE! DAVEY: ONCE AND FOR ALL! JACK: ONCE AND FOR ALL! DAVEY, RACE, SPOT, MIKE, IKE, & MUSH: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES: ONCE AND FOR ALL! (The sun rises as KATHERINE heads to her meeting, the Newsies Banner and JACK’s drawings in hand.) #20A- Once And For All (Playoff) 44 SCENE EIGHT: Pulitzer’s Office, Next Morning (The office is in full panic mode. HANNAH and BUNSEN scramble to answer phones as they continue to ring incessantly. PULITZER sits furiously at his desk.) HANNAH: (into the phone) I’m sorry, Mr. Pulitzer will have to call you back. BUNSEN: I’m sorry, but he’ll have to call you back. HANNAH: (next phone) He can’t talk. He’ll call you back— BUNSEN: I’m sorry, but he’ll— I’m sorry. I’m sorry. PULITZER: Silence those phones!!! (HANNAH and BUNSEN remove the receivers from their cradles.) BUNSEN: The entire city is shut down. No one is working anywhere. And everyone is blaming you. HANNAH: They’re all calling: the Mayor, the publishers, the manufacturers... and such language! (JACK, DAVEY, and SPOT enter merrily, chased by SEITZ.) SEITZ: You can’t just barge in... JACK: (offers up the Newsies Banner to PULITZER) How we doin’ this morning, gents? PULITZER: You’re behind this? We had a deal. JACK: (tosses bribe money on PULITZER’s desk) And it came with a money-back guarantee. And thanks for your lessons on the power of the press. SEITZ: (examining the article) Did you read this boss? These kids put out a pretty good paper. Very convincing. PULITZER: No doubt written by my daughter. JACK: (now reclining in an office chair) I’d sign her before someone else grabs her up. PULITZER: I demand to know who defied my ban on printing strike material! JACK: We’re your loyal employers. SPOT: We’d never take our business elsewhere. SEITZ: (examining the paper) The old printing press in the cellar. PULIZTER: (taking measured steps toward JACK) I made you the offer of a lifetime. Anyone who does not act in his own self-interest is a fool. DAVEY: What’s that make you? This all began because you wanted to sell more papers. But now your circulation is down seventy percent. Why didn’t you just come talk to us? JACK: Guys like Joe don’t talk with nothin’s like us. But a very wise reporter told me a real boss don’t need the answers. Just the smarts to snatch the right one when he hears it. (NEWSIES sing in Newsie Square below Pulitzer’s office.) #20B- Seize The Day (Reprise 2)- Newsies NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY MINUTE BY MINUTE, THAT’S HOW YOU WIN IT WE WILL FIND A WAY. BUT LET US SEIZE THE DAY. HMMMMMM……(The NEWSIES continue to hum as a drum beats steadily.) SPOT: Have a look out there, Mr. Pulitzer. In case you ain’t figured it out, we got you surrounded. JACK: New York is closed for business. Paralyzed. You can’t get a paper or a shoe shine. You can’t send a
message or ride an elevator or cross the Brooklyn Bridge. You can’t even leave your own building. So, what’s your next move? (BUNSEN rushes back into the room in a tizzy.) BUNSEN: Mr. Pulitzer, the Mayor is here along with your daughter and... oh you’re not going to believe 45 who else! (In walk the MAYOR, KATHERINE, MEDDA, and GOVERNOR TEDDY ROOSEVELT.) MAYOR: Good morning, Mr. Pulitzer. I think you know the Governor. PULITZER: Governor Roosevelt? ROOSEVELT: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. What have you done now? PULITZER: I’m sure when you hear my explanation— ROOSEVELT: Thanks to Miss Medda Larkin bringing your daughter to my office, I already have a thorough grasp of the situation- graphic illustrations included. (brandishes JACK’s drawings) Bully is the expression I usually employ to show approval. But in your case I simply mean bully! (to KATHERINE, referring to JACK) Is this the boy of whom you spoke? KATHERINE: Yes Sir. ROOSEVELT: (to JACK) How are you, son? I’m told we once shared a carriage ride. JACK: Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Governor. ROOSEVELT: (to PULITZER) Well, Joe, don’t just stand there letting those children sing… endlessly. Give them the good news. PULITZER: What good news? ROOSEVELT: That you’ve come to your senses and rolled back your prices. Unless, of course, you want to invite a full state senate investigation into your employment practices. PULITZER: (red with anger) You wouldn’t— ROOSEVELT: After the pressure you wielded to keep me from office? I’d do it with a smile. Come along, Joseph. There’s only one thing worse than a hard heart, and that’s a soft head. (PULITZER growls and postures.) And think of the happiness you’ll bring those children. (to HANNAH) He doesn’t do happiness, does he? HANNAH: (hushed) No sir. PULITZER: (cornered, shifting tactics) Mr. Kelly, if I may speak to you...alone. (The OTHERS withdraw from the room.) ROOSEVELT: (to JACK) Keep your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ground. You can do this. (ROOSEVELT exits. JACK and PULITZER are alone.) PULITZER: I cannot put the price back where it was. (JACK starts to move away.) I’m sorry, I can’t. There are other considerations— JACK: I get it. You need to save face front of all these folks. I’m young, I ain’t stupid. PULITZER: Thank you for understanding. JACK: But I got constituents with a legitimate gripe. PULITZER: What if I reduce the raise by half and get the others to do the same? It’s a compromise we can all live with. JACK: (he thinks…) But you eat our losses. From now on, any papes we can’t sell, you buy back- full price. PULITZER: That’s never been on the table! What’s to stop Newsies from taking hundreds of papers they can’t sell? My costs will explode! JACK: No Newsie is gonna break his back haulin’ around papes he can’t sell. But if they can take a few more with no risk, they might sell ‘em and your circulation would begin to grow...(mocking PULITZER) “It’s a compromise we can all live with.” PULITZER: (calming considerably) That’s not a bad head you’ve got on your shoulders. JACK: Deal? (JACK spits in his hand and holds it out for PULITZER to shake.) PULITZER: That’s disgusting. JACK: Just the price of doing business. (PULITZER spits in his hand. JACK grabs it and shakes. Deal sealed.) 46 SCENE NINE: Newsie Square #21- Finale Ultimo (Part 1)- Company NEWSIES/BROOKLYN NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW, WE BEEN KEEPIN’ SCORE EITHER THEY GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES THEM A WAR WE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG, AND WE PAID OUR DUES AND THE THINGS WE DO TODAY WILL BE TOMORROW’S NEWS. AND THE DIE IS CAST, AND THE TORCH IS PASSED NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND A ROAR WILL RISE… NEWSIES GROUP 2: … FROM THE STREETS BELOW NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW NEWSIES: AND GROW AND GROW AND GROW AND GROW AND GROW AND…. (JACK, KATHERINE, MEDDA, SPOT, DAVEY, ROOSEVELT, and PULITZER come out to the square. PULITZER, ROOSEVELT, and JACK mount a raised platform to address the CROWD.) JACK: Newsies of New York City... we won!!! (The CROWD cheers. JACK quiets them.) And now I’d like to
introduce my own personal pal, Governor Theodore Roosevelt himself!!! (The CROWD cheers.) ROOSEVELT: (recognizing this historical moment) Each generation must, at the height of its power, step aside and invite the young to share the day. You have laid claim to our world and I believe the future, in your hands, will be bright and prosperous. (to JACK) And your drawings, son, have brought another matter to bear. (signaling offstage) Officers, if you please. (A police whistle sounds. CRUTCHIE appears, blowing the whistle and waiving.) RACE: Hey lookit, Jack. It’s Crutchie! NEWSIES: (ad lib) Crutchie! CRUTCHIE: Hiya, fellas. You miss me? NEWSIES: (ad lib) Yeah. Sure. Ain’t been the same without ya. CRUTCHIE: And lookit what I got yis: straight from The Refuge. (calling offstage) Bring him in, fellas! (Two POLICEMEN enter with SNYDER between them.) RACE: It’s Snyder the Spider! MUSH: He ain’t lookin’ so tough no more, is he? ROOSEVELT: Jack, with these drawings you made an eloquent argument for shutting down The Refuge. Be assured that Mr. Snyder’s abuses will be fully investigated. (to a POLICEMAN) Officer, take him away. CRUTCHIE: (to ROOSEVELT) Please, Your Highness... may I do the honors? (ROOSEVELT gives him the approval. CRUTCHIE slaps handcuffs onto SNYDER.) SNYDER: You’ve got to be joking. CRUTCHIE: And you’ll be laughing all the way to the pen, “little man.” (CRUTCHIE gives SYNDER a kick in the rear.) So long, sucker! JACK: Thank you, Governor. (JACK races down to embrace CRUTCHIE. PULITZER steps forward, snatching JACK’s drawings away from ROOSEVELT.) PULITZER: (to JACK) I can’t help thinking... if one of your drawings convinced the governor to close The Refuge, what might a daily political cartoon do the expose the dealings in our own government back rooms? (to ROOSEVELT) What do you say, Teddy? Care to have this young man’s artistry shine a lantern behind your closed doors? 47 JACK: Don’t sweat it, Gov. With the strike settled, I probably should be hitting the road. (DAVEY and KATHERINE move towards JACK.) DAVEY: Don’t you ever get tired of singing that same old tune? What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t? Tarantulas? KATHERINE: Better yet: what’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t? CRUTCHIE: New York’s got us. And we’re family. PULITZER: (bellowing from above) Didn’t I hear something about a strike being settled? (WIESEL and the DELANCEYS open the distribution window as PULITZER exits.) WIESEL: Papes for the Newsies. Line up, boys. These papes ain’t gonna sell themselves. MEDDA: (exiting with ROOSEVELT) Come along, Governor, and show me that back seat I’ve been hearing so much about. KATHERINE: (teasing JACK) Well don’t just stand there, you’ve got a union to run. Besides, didn’t someone just offer you a pretty exciting job? JACK: Me work for your father? KATHERINE: You already work for my father. JACK: Oh, yeah. KATHERINE: And you’ve got one more ace up your sleeve. JACK: What would that be? KATHERINE: Me. Wherever you go, I’ll be right there by your side. JACK: For sure? KATHERINE: For sure. JACK: DON’T TAKE MUCH TO BE A DREAMER. ALL YOU DO IS CLOSE YOUR EYES. BUT SOME MADE-UP WORLD IS ALL YOU EVER SEE NOW MY EYES IS FINALLY OPEN. AND MY DREAMS, THEY’S AVERAGE SIZE BUT THEY DON’T MUCH MATTER IF YOU AIN’T WITH ME (JACK grabs KATHERINE in an embrace and they kiss.) LES: (pointing to the public display of affection) Guys! (The NEWSIES catcall and whistle their approval.) DAVEY: Well, Jack… you in or you out? (JACK leaves KATHERINE. With a big smile, he approaches WIESEL, slaps his money down on the counter, and snatches up his papes.) #21A-Finale Ultimo (Part 2)- Company COMPANY: WE'LL ALL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN! WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE, SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: NEWSIES ON A MISSION! KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! LOOK AT ME: I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK!
SUDDENLY I'M RESPECTABLE, STARIN' RIGHT AT'CHA, LOUSY WITH STA'CHA. GLORY BE! I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! VICTORY! FRONT PAGE STORY GUTS AND GLORY I’M THE KING…OF NEW YORK! (BOWS.) THE END
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himjopper · 4 years
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the flea & the acrobat (jim hopper fic)
pairing: hopper x reader, stranger things chapter: 1/? chapter rating: teen, 18+ (mention of violence, fear, mild swearing, mention of sexual intentions) summary: you’re an FBI agent from the behavioral analysis unit, living in the big city and enjoying the hustle and bustle of the 80’s crime scene. you’ve worked your ass off to get respect around a male dominated field, earning yourself a promotion as the head of your department after you helped solve a missing persons case that swept the nation just short of a year ago. the case closed, but something happening in a small town in Hawkins, Indiana is making your bones chill with its similarities to your closed case. a young girl, barbara holland, is missing and you’ve got a hunch on how to bring her home. little do you know, Hawkins isn’t exactly textbook and you need the locals’s help. a/n: helloooo!! so I actually only got back into writing literally from just reading all the drabbles and fics on here about hop and I was deserperate to get in there myself. this started as a one shot and bc I have a difficult time uhh shutting up, it became a full fic. pls enjoy and feel free to msg me with ideas and inspiration it helps a ton!! special thanks to @chiefharbour for existing and getting me out of a writers block that had actual cobwebs <3 gif credit: @hawkinslibrary​
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You loved the city.
You loved the traffic and the sound of cars honking, the occasional couple arguing, the screech of tires and never ending hustle. You loved the constant rain and the way it ruined your hair every morning at 8:07AM when you’d leave your apartment to get your double espresso before you stepped into the office just to be greeted with missing persons case after missing persons case. These were all things you told yourself, every day, every morning, and every night.
On cue, the pager on your hip beeps wildly. An involuntary groan comes from your throat while you try to preview the message and head into the building.
“Scotch, I need to talk to you about the Snake Hole Case-“
Your eyes look up to address the older gentleman in front of you who reeks of too much cologne and cheap cigars; he’s just a detective and he’s never been very confident in your abilities even though you’ve been the lead profiler in your division for the last two years and you have 36 solved cases under your belt.
Regardless, you give him your distracted attention as you both stride hurriedly down the hall leading to the conference room you should’ve been in ten minutes ago. The office is bustling and there’s a fax machine ringing in the distance but your rushed heeled steps are louder even on carpet.
“This better be worth my time, Hayes, I’m late for a meeting as is and I have a phone call with Seattle’s Chamber in fourteen minutes in counting.”
The shorter man quickens his step in attempt to catch up to you. “Snake Hole, the original killer was-“
You cut off his excitement with your bluntness as usual, “Gene Schwartzman, white male, 43-years-old, small town stores clerk, no children, never married, alcoholic, absolute low life...”
Hayes snorts, “Right, but he had a pattern, an obsession with younger women with a specific and detailed description, mirroring his own mother, and that’s why he would retaliate-“
Your heels come to a halt as you step in front of the older detective. His lips are chapped, his bottom teeth have ridges from obsessive grinding, the normally groomed hair is parted in every which way, there’s an ink stain on his dress shirt’s pocket. It’s not like him to be so out of sorts. He was obnoxious, sure, but not messy.
“That case was closed a year ago. What are you trying to tell me, Hayes?”
Nervously, his tongue darts out to lick his lips before he speaks. His voice remains low so only the two of you can hear.
“I think... I think we’re seeing an admirer of Schwartzmen mirroring his case. He never got to finish his pattern-“
“We were able to catch him before the final murder. We solved his puzzle first-“
“Someone in Indiana is trying to finish the job, Scotch. I think you need to see this.”
He holds your gaze for a moment as you’re replaying the details of the Snake Hole case in your memory. His hand grips the manilla folder that he extends out to you.
There’s suddenly an impatient call for you to go into the room just down the hall to join that meeting. You’re already twelve minutes late now and before you can respond, there’s another louder call of your name.
You take the folder from the detective and return his low volume, “Get one of the assistants to cancel the phone meeting I have with the Chamber, you and I need to talk. I want to know what’s going on in Indiana. Get me in contact with the local PD, as soon as possible.”
                           · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Everyone could tell you were distracted the whole meeting. Every second you weren’t looking at the file tucked under your half-assed notes was a second wasted. Your behavior was fidgety and as you clicked at your pen the whole half an hour, you couldn’t stop thinking about the secret admirer Schwartzmen has in Indiana of all places. The original murders took place a year ago in Alabama, made nationwide headlines for weeks and there was even a public memorial for the victims and their families. Schwartzmen confessed on tape and immediately thrown in prison to rot. Everything felt so final. What was the connection to Indiana? You finally got to read over the file on your lunch break with your third coffee before 1PM. Red nails drumming on the wood of your desk, frustrated. There’s a Missing poster of a younger girl, she’s sixteen, decorated with freckles across her face. Round cheeks, even rounder glasses, red hair and seemingly innocent. You hated that the bitter but smart detective Dennis Hayes of all people was going to be right. Unfortunately, Miss Barbara Holland of Hawkins, Indiana fit the description too well. She might even be closest in resemblance to Schwartzmen’s actual mother and it made the acid from your stomach rise up to the back of your tongue.
A knock at your door finally makes your eyes look away from the young girl’s school photo.
“Scotch?”
It’s Hayes and he’s holding two styrofoam cups, hopefully full of caffeine.
“Come in, please, sit.” You wave a manicured hand towards the chair in front of your desk and he takes a seat as he carefully places one of the cups next to your current (and nearly empty) mug.
“I’ll make this short,” Hayes begins. “I know your hands are full with other cases where they’re asking you to profile who kidnapped a dog from a park and robbed a granny at the mom and pop shop at noon-“
You roll your eyes at his brief condescending comment towards your line of work as if he could make his arrests without your insight.
“But you gotta admit, Scotch... the resemblance here is uncanny.”
And it was. Uncomfortably so. She was nearly a spitting image of Schwartzmen’s mother, down to the same yearbook photo we plastered on the screens of every television in America mirrored this young Barbara Holland’s. Schwartzmen was an orphan until the age of 12, he had grown up in his adolescence without a mother and resented the nameless redhead who left him at a church’s doorstep to be found. Angry and feeling abandoned, he grieved the loss of what he never had by murdering young women who resembled the only photo he had of his biological mother: her yearbook photo. The same yearbook photo you cleared with the media to be broadcast to America during the investigation a year ago.
A part of you feels responsible for a split second and there’s a tinge of guilt in your stomach thinking you put her at risk when you let the media have the photo of Schwartzmen’s mother, the very inspiration for all his heinous murders. Did someone see this young girl in Indiana and think she was an opportunity that couldn’t be missed? Was sixteen year old Barbara Holland just an innocent and unfortunate puzzle piece? You’re both staring at the file with some local news from Hawkins along with some notes from the Snake Hole case. It was more frustrating how little Hawkins had on Barbara’s disappearance. It was as simple as one minute was there, the next minute, she wasn’t. Good girl, good grades, good friends, what happened?
You break the thick and focused silence first.
“Did you get me the number for the state police?”
“Indiana State Police don’t have much on it, it’s mainly the Hawkins PD that seems to have more information. It’s a small town. They had two missing kids in the same month-“
Your brow furrowed together, “Two?”
Hayes leans back further in the chair, arms crossed over his chest nonchalantly.
“Young boy, no older than twelve, he turned up alive after some searches, seems unrelated to this case. There’s still no body found for the sixteen year old, goes by Barb. I think we need to get involved.”
This almost makes a snort leave your body.
“We? Hayes, no, I’m going alone.” He opens his mouth to protest but you continue with your voice stern, “I know the Schwartzmen case, I worked on it first hand, I’m going to Indiana. This is just another disorganized killer and the fact it’s only one girl missing gives me some hope. Some sad sack in the Midwest trying to get a shot of fame by comparing himself to Schwartzmen, recreating the profile, maybe make the public wonder if he’s still locked up, whatever. She’s a missing girl, but it doesn’t mean she’s dead. If this is mirroring Schwartzmen and the Hawkins PD hasn’t caught up to that, it’s my responsibility to involve myself to help them be a step ahead.”
Detective Hayes stands up from the chair then with a proud smirk on his face.
“You’re welcome, you know. You can say it.”
You scrunch your nose at him then.
“I could, but I don’t feel like it.”
Hayes chuckles as he turns on his heel to leave your office. “Well, enjoy Indiana, Scotch.”
You grunt in response behind the coffee cup, your lipstick leaving a print on the white foam.
As you’re about to hear the click of your office door closing signaling his exit, Hayes peeps his head back in. “Oh, you’ll have fun talking to that chief of police, by the way. Goes by Hopper, or somethin’ like that. Hung up on me twice and told me to go fuck myself on the third attempt. Seems like a hard ass, so. Maybe flirt a little, show a little leg when you touch down in Hawkins.”
His wink and sneering grin made you sick. Just when you thought this detective was useful. You draw in a patient sigh before looking back at him.
“Detective?” Your hands folded under your chin to appear sweeter.
Hayes steps more into the doorway to listen, he’s already eyed your crossed legs and heeled shoes. Pervert.
“The only time I’m going to show a little leg is before I kick your ass.”
The smile dropped from his face and it was followed by the slight slam of your office door. You smirk to yourself and prepare the arrangements to fly to Indiana to meet with Hawkins PD and hopefully bring Barbara Holland home.
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snarkandsarcasmftw · 5 years
Note
I’m gonna go with “Killer Queen”. It happened to come on.
SO... I feel like personally, I went waaay too overboard with backstory and set up here, but.... I also feel like maybe I haven’t written the last of these two and I love writing cocky / fighty Pete Dunne, so it was kind of a win. It was so much fun to write this, thank you for sending it to me!! I only hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it?
more fake fic titles here > YOooooo... if anyone wants to be tagged in my writing, just shoot me an ask or a DM stating what fandoms / couples / characters you want to be tagged for, I’ll happily tag you.
Tagging: @rampagewriting @andie01 @calwitch @vonschweetz @kittysilver86 
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The past few months had been a real eye opener for Eileen if she had to be perfectly honest. For starters, she learned that a lot of people she previously thought gave a damn were actually only using her because they knew she was easily taken advantage of, the biggest being her boyfriend.
Throwing his ass out after catching him balls deep in one of the hair and makeup girls she worked with who’d been ‘crashing on her couch’ while she sorted out her own mess of a life… That had been the first step to Eileen taking control of her own life back. Since that night, Eileen hadn’t really… Stopped. She’d gotten that much poison out of her system, why not continue?
Don’t like your weight? Join a gym, start jogging like you used to back in high school and start doing Pilates. Get Rollins to let you come to a few Crossfit sessions.  Talk Matt Riddle into teaching you the basic finer points of MMA.
Friends always using you but hiding it? Ditch them all. Who needs friends like that anyway? Just stop reaching out, stop jumping to return texts not even a second after they’ve been sent to you. Take that cruise during downtime and paint it all over your Instagram.. Do it alone. Start finding other ways to fill the time they previously occupied. Hell, Eileen had even taken up painting and photography again as of late, and she’d been doing quite well at it. She barely noticed when a few weeks slipped by.. Then a month.. And then two.. And then, one day, while waiting on the show to start for the night, Eileen found herself going through her phone and deleting all those so called friends. And then going out for drinks with some of the women on the roster when asked.
It had surprised her they even bothered. For the most part, she was used to just being hair / makeup / special effects makeup backstage. Nobody really knew her. Nobody seemed to care to, either.
That impromptu night out lead to a shopping spree in Florida next time she and Carmella both had downtime at the same time and that is how the new wardrobe and her, being talked into doing something that prior to then she’d have never even considered… Dying her hair and chopping about two inches off the length, even going for curtain bangs because she’d always wanted them. She ditched the glasses shortly after in favor of contacts, because a few drinks with the girls one night led her to realize that everything about her before had been a safety net. 
Defense mechanisms, so to speak. She’d been hiding herself away on purpose.. Because years of rejection and feeling like the outsider left her thinking it was the only way to go, the safe way to go.. Left her frustrated, hating herself and blaming everybody else around her for her own situation, created by her. 
And now, here she was.. About to go way out of her comfort zone, crammed into an SUV to go out to a nightclub for some Halloween party. Before?
She never would’ve believed that the women she worked with, the ones who intimidated her so much before, would have ever even given her the time of day, much less call and skype regularly to check in, inviting her for drinks, tag her in random things they saw that made them think about her on Instagram or Twitter..
But here she was. About to go to a party that before, she never would have thought she belonged at and she would have chickened out of going to.
In a costume that before a few months ago, she never would have been caught dead in, she’d have felt ugly wearing. Now it didn’t matter, because she didn’t care what anybody thought. She liked the costume and wanted to wear it, therefore, she was wearing it.
Rhea Ripley saying her name bought her into the conversation and out of her own mind. “Hey, is it true? What you told Nadine today about Karma?”
Mia turned to stare at Eileen intently and Eileen giggled, nodding as she shrugged. “ All I told her was that it was Karma. I mean what did she really expect, hooking up with the guy who screwed around on me, with her?” 
Mia burst into laughter and nodded, adding her input, “ Phew.. talk about a bullet dodged. That was a huge one you dodged, girl.” 
“Oh god yes. I really did.” Eileen smoothed her hands over the black velvet dress and took a deep breath. She was nervous, but in a more excited way than an anxious one. It felt good.
For the first time in a long time, Eileen was actually enjoying her life instead of just letting it pass her by.
“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” she leaned in to tell Rhea quietly. Rhea shrugged and smiled. “Thought ya might ‘ave fun at this.”
They were parking the SUV when Eileen caught sight of her ex nearby, dressed as a pirate, complete with stuffed parrot on his shoulder and to her surprise, she didn’t immediately want to get back into the SUV and demand to be taken home. Not even three weeks ago, she would have either been really hurt, seeing him out and about or really down, ready to slip back into her age old holding pattern of blaming herself and putting herself down.
He cheated on her because he was a dog. Because he didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself, she reminded herself mentally, taking a deep breath. Candice LeRae seemed to pick up on her being aware of her ex and she nudged her, nodding in his direction as she said quietly, “Don’t let that piece of toxic crap get to you. He’s clearly not worth it.”
Eileen nodded and to her surprise, when she opened her mouth, all she had to say on the matter of her ex being present was, “Oh trust me, I’m well aware.”
They made their way past, getting brought to the front of the line because Rhea was apparently best friends with the bouncer and just as she went to step through the red velvet ropes, her ex Sean called out to her. “Lookin good, Eileen. Sexy bunny… Really suits ya, baby girl.”
“That’s honestly more than I can say for you, Sean. Nice costume.. I’m assuming they were all sold out of inflatable dick costumes?”
Rhea smirked and Candice nearly choked on her laughter as Mia gave Eileen a high five. Eileen took a deep breath and turned away, slinking through the doors, leaving Sean to watch her intently.
She never would’ve even dared to wear a dress like the clingy little black velvet number she just pranced right past him wearing when they were together. She also never would’ve mouthed off, she never would have even bothered coming to a party because he tried a thousand times to get her to go out with him before and she always politely declined. He dragged his fingers through his hair and shook his head, confused.
The last thing he expected was to see her here tonight. His date sidled up, pressing against his back and he turned to look at her. Suddenly, she wasn’t nearly as appealing as she had been months ago.
Not looking at what he threw away to get her.
“Babe?” Nadine knit her brows, looking at Sean as he stepped away, staring at the door. Nadine glared, a hand on her hip. She’d seen Eileen get straight to the front of the line. She’d heard Sean call out to her. To say she was jealous was probably under-statement of the year. 
“That bitch, seriously? You said she wasn’t any fun.” Nadine was in full blown pout mode and while normally, Sean would have found it cute, tonight he just found it annoying. He hadn’t seen Eileen in months. Seeing her for the first time since she threw him out tonight.. Looking happy. Looking confident for once. Knowing the things he heard their old friends saying about her in the months since the breakup between him and her… Sean was having his full blown moment of truth.
By the time the bouncer finally got around to letting the crowd gathered outside the club into it, Sean was contemplating just ditching the party, but parts of him were curious.
It had to be an act, right? There’s no way she was hiding the real her for the entirety of four years they dated.. He made up his mind to watch her, to see how far she’d carry this act of hers. He smirked to himself and pulled Nadine against him, dragging her towards the dance floor. 
“Sean, you’re dragging me.”
“Don’t you wanna dance, baby girl?”
Nadine glared up at him, following his gaze as soon as she realized that it wasn’t fixed on her. “If you want her, go ahead. Doubt she’d have you.”
“Oh? She’d be glad to have me back, Nadie.”
“Right…. That’s not what she said earlier tonight.” Nadine smirked as her words hit their mark.
Across the club, Eileen felt the sensation of being stared at and as soon as she turned to find Sean staring at her, she rolled her eyes, taking the shot from Rhea’s hand, slamming it back and shaking her head as the burn of the liquid made it’s way from throat to stomach. Rhea followed Eileen’s eyes and snorted in derision, rolling her eyes at Eileen’s ex before stepping between them.
“He’s just tryin t’ get to ya.”
“It isn’t working, actually. I can’t believe I ever found… That… attractive at all. He’s got the iq of a flea and the personality of a doorknob.. Or maybe he’s a doorknob on both counts.” Eileen waved the bartender down, ordering herself another round and she started letting her eyes roam the crowded nightclub, leaning in to nudge Rhea, “Weren’t they having a costume contest thing tonight?”
“Mhmm.”
“I think… I wanna enter it.”
Rhea high fived her and Eileen gave a bit of a smirk, giggling softly to herself as the liquor in the shots took effect and she started to feel almost giddy. Rhea snorted. “Don’t tell me yer an easy drunk, woman.”
“Wouldn’t know.. I really haven’t drank much until recently. Don’t do it often enough to know for sure now.” Eileen admitted, Rhea snickering and shaking her head as she told her, “This is goin t’ be fun then. C’mon.” as she grabbed hold of Eileen’s hand, half dragging her through the crowd and straight towards the back… Where the dart boards and pool tables were.
“Rhea, what the hell?”
Rhea held her fingers to her lips and gave a playful wink. “Just wait. Got a surprise for y.”
“Rhea….” But Eileen got the feeling that either way this went, Rhea was going to do whatever it was that she had on her mind to do. And rather than be a stick in the mud, Eileen laughed softly, smiling. “Okay, alright. Let’s see this surprise.”
They stopped near the dartboard that the members of British Strong Style were all gathered around. Eileen found herself kind of momentarily shying towards the back, behind Rhea.
Tyler Bate looked up and promptly choked on the drink in his hand, nudging Pete Dunne.
“Someone brought y’ a present, Dunney. Might want t’ turn around.” Tyler was barely hiding a grin as he nudged his friend to get Pete to turn around.
Trent chuckled, watching it unfold with interest and delight, because it wasn’t a really big secret, Dunne was always watching the quiet brunette whenever she worked hair and makeup for their roster. He’d almost gone to war with at least one of the men on their roster over her, on more than one occasion.
If you asked him he’d just say the brunette in question was cute and drop the matter, giving a death glare as he did so. But Trent and Tyler weren’t stupid, they knew there was a lot more to it than that.
And if something wasn’t done to address it, Pete Dunne was practically a ticking time bomb.
Pete turned, scowl at the ready. That scowl turned to a smirk as he eyed the brunette with the sagging bunny ear headband standing behind Rhea Ripley. Rhea smirked at him, giving a teasing wink that had him glaring at her.
“Pete, Eileen. Eileen, I believe you know Pete? Pete, I know you know Eileen.” Rhea gave a teasing smirk at Pete and Pete glared at her in warning. Anyone who knew him knew full well by this point not, under any circumstances, to bring up his not so hidden feelings about the new hair and makeup artist.
Eileen’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to get her mouth and brain to work together, failing at it miserably. She cleared her throat, her hand raising, tangling in her hair as she stared up at him.
“I don’t, I just… Saw matches. And the one time I had to cover the bruise..”  - Christ, Eileen, snap out of it… He’s just a man. 
…. Just a man you happen to have a huge attraction to… you can’t even form words properly whenever you’re at NXT backstage and you see him around….
Pete chuckled, rubbing his chin as he continued to let his eyes roam slowly. He stepped a little closer, staring down at her. “ Y’ watch th’ matches, hm? Wouldn’t ‘ave taken y’ for a fan.”
“I...I…” - okay, I am totally out of my depth here, abort! Why the hell did I let Rhea drag me over here? Oh right.. Trying new things. Look how amazing I’m doing with that… Eileen’s mind was in overdrive as she bit her lip, meeting his gaze.
She’d come too far to simply be reduced to a hot mess by the likes of him. She wasn’t about to let it happen, either. One way or another, by God, she was going to salvage this whole introduction.
Pete eyed her, waiting on more of an answer. He remembered her being shy, which honestly didn’t track with the way the little black velvet slip dress fit her like a second skin. Rhea smirked to herself. Satisfied that her good deed for the year was done, she turned and walked away, calling out to both of them as she went, “Have fun, you two!”
“Dunney, it’s yer go at th’ board.” Trent cleared his throat, breaking Pete out of his slight dazed moment. Pete smirked and nodded to the dart board behind them. “Y’ play darts, Eileen?”
“Not very well.” Eileen answered, swallowing hard as Pete nodded to the board again. “I can show ya.”
When he stepped up behind her, those big and rough hands wrapping around her arms to help her aim the dart at the board, his chest pressing into her back, she bit her lip and listened to him, eyeing up the dartboard. 
Her first attempt fell short of the board and Tyler picked up the dart, holding it out to her, chuckling. Pete was pressing into her back again, his arms around her, his hands around her wrists as he raised her arm. “ Helps t’ imagine somebody standin ‘ere.. For example, if it were me? I’d imagine ‘at prick Riddle.”
…. And I did the entire night we were playing after I found out he was teachin y’ MMA…. the thought crept it’s way into his mind and he tried shoving it out.
Eileen gave a nod and stared down the board intently. Picturing Sean standing in front of the board gave her enough annoyance to get the dart closer to the board, but not close enough for the dart to stick to the board. She sighed and shook her head. “You do it. I’ll watch. I don’t want to mess up your score.”
“Y’ got closer that time.”
From behind them, a throat cleared. Eileen growled to herself and rolled her eyes, muttering “And here comes this motherfucker.” in a quiet tone that Pete immediately picked up on as his gaze settled on the man dressed as a pirate.
He’d seen him around at shows. Mostly flirting with the women on the roster or hanging out in the parking lot after like your typical fuckboy with no actual life. He honestly thought the guy was something of a male ring rat, and he’d said as much to Trent and Tyler on occasion.
“Who are you?” Pete stared the man down, stepping close to Eileen in a possessive move that neither Trent nor Tyler missed as they shared a smirk right after he’d done it.
“This Pete, is my ex. And he’s in the wrong costume.. But... if he wore a sign that said fuckboy or douchebag around his neck then he wouldn’t get laid, I suppose.”
Trent and Tyler snickered, nudging each other as they exchanged looks. Pete was in prime arrogant prick mode now, and that possessive side that he normally kept reigned in was starting to shine through on top of it.
“Babe, c’mon. It was a mistake.”
“You’re the mistake. Fuck off, Sean. And stop lurking and watching me. I know you’ve been doing it since you saw me outside. I came to have fun. You’re not going to stop me, nor do I give a fuck about you.”
Pete smirked from behind her. His hand went to her hip and as Sean stepped close, Pete stepped out from behind her. “She’s got no use for y’. Get fucked, Sean. Because if I see y’ around ‘er again tonight, yer goin’ to regret it.” Pete stared him down, both men squared up and ready to go at any second. Sean scoffed at Pete. “You think I’m scared of you? If  I want her back, man.. She’ll come back. We’ve got history. You’re just some pretty boy she’s flirting with to get under my skin.” his gaze turned to Eileen, who was seething by this point, her teeth gritted, her eyes blazing with anger.
More anger or emotion than she’d ever really shown before.
He gave her a hurt look that he knew worked well on her on many occasions before. “It’s workin, baby girl. I never woulda thought you’d turn yourself into a glorified fuck toy for one of the assholes you work for.”
Honestly, Eileen was about to step around Pete and just throw her drink right in Sean’s face, but before she could even think about doing it, Pete had Sean against a wooden column nearby, holding him by the collar, sneering at him. As calmly as possible, he leaned in and muttered quietly, “If y’ even breathe around ‘er… and I find out about it? I’ll break yer fucking neck. And I’ll enjoy every second of it.” before loosening his grip, letting Sean slump to the floor.
Eileen stood over Sean, her drink in her hand. “ If anyone’s a slut, Sean, it’s you.” she poured the drink over his head and turned, slinking away, back over to where Pete stood gathered around the dartboard with his friends.
Pete chuckled and shook his head, staring down at her. “Just couldn’t let it go, could y’?”
“Hell no.”
“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be botherin y’ again anytime soon.. Not unless he wants his arse ‘anded to him.”  Pete mused, stepping closer. He wanted no one around them to make any mistakes about it. She was leaving with him tonight if he had his way about things.
A slower song came on and Eileen bit her lip, torn between wanting to ask him to dance and thinking he’d probably say no.
To her surprise, Pete pulled her against him, slipping both arms around her as he turned the baseball cap he was wearing to the back so it didn’t bump her in the forehead. He chuckled and smirked down at her.
“Lucky I like y’.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t dance.” Pete muttered, leaning down, lifting her up slightly as he pulled her into a slow, rough and deep kiss….
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lilynoellerogers · 7 years
Text
Cuba, Libre
From the moment the plane hovered overhead, fought back by warm sweeping winds, I could tell we had entered a different world. Already the 5am wakeup, the disorientation of being alone on a voyage I had envisioned for two, and a five hour flight had left my head a bit spun out. But landing in Havana, and all that followed that day, gave me a sense of being suspended in time and place. It was pure magic. In the final miles that the plane descended on the lush tropical landscape of Cuba, small scenes caught my eye: a group crossing a green plain on horseback to check the crops, exuberantly bright old cars barreling along a highway going about 50 but looking like they were pushing themselves to the brink, pockets of dense jungle scattered within a mile or two of Habana Centro. The plane landed smoothly, despite the strong gales of wind,  and a ramshackle faded yellow airport building appeared. We were bussed over to it and were ushered in, where numbered cubicles that looked like small wooden phone booths were the vessels we would pass through to a land that felt like the Wild Un-West. A few quick questions from an immigration officer and then a mystery door, opening up to Cuba. An immediate rush of people appeared, some well intentioned, some not as much. In the bathroom a cleaning lady hoped to do an unofficial currency exchange with me. I navigated through the crowd to get a taxi, which ended up being a new vehicle with AC rather than the 51 Chevy convertible of my dreams. But those pushed along the road with us, some looking as though they had been worked to the bone and others as though they hadn’t exited a garage since whatever year in the 1950’s they had been made. An occasional pink Cadillac would sidle up alongside us. Men selling mangos rushed to do a quick exchange with a car in front of us on the highway - “only in Cuba,” my driver said with a chuckle. Cuba by and large felt safer than many places with a similar demographic, though some opportunists were emboldened by the recent rush of tourism. My driver began to tell me about trips I could take to the countryside, and I started to prepare a kind but firm defense, knowing that the pitch for his services was forthcoming. Instead, he surprised me by suggesting that I take the bus for a couple CUC, or to walk through Habana Centro rather than taking a taxicab. He really wanted me to have a good time, and that made me smile. Somehow it felt like everywhere else we had slipped into the era of young capitalists seeing the chance for a quick buck rather than the simplicity of people who loved their country and wanted others to experience it’s beauty too. Walking down the streets also felt safe. The only frustrations were people begging for money and men hitting on me in Spanish (for which I didn't have a full enough Spanish vocabulary to adequately warn them off). I arrived to the building where my homestay was located, and a man smoking a cigar lingered in the doorway. He grunted a bit and directed me where to go. Another ancient looking man with a bulbous nose was slumped on the stairs, and his eyes smiled at me. I found my host, Magalys, who I exchanged excited noises of greeting with in lieu of a common language. My mind flashed to google translate - but there’s truly no service anywhere in Cuba. Not even easy wifi. It’s complicated. So with no raft to save us, she rattled on in Spanish, I caught every fourth word and the general gist, and smiled inside at how much I appreciated the simplicity of it all. This was a different world. The lack of technology and virtually no internet was one of the most striking things I first experienced in Cuba. I used a paper map to navigate and made educated guesses. I gestured a lot with my hands and employed a broad smile. I seemed to over-rely on the word “perfecto” for everything. Low-tech seemed to change the nature of everything. Even the fact that I pushed through a writer’s block the minute I arrived was telling. When I first found Magalys I walked past apartment doors, all mostly open but some with a barred door just to stop people from walking in. Small windows into small worlds, and again a different era. Ancient TV sets and photos of granddaughters alongside renderings of Jesus were the pretty vignettes through the bars. Beams of golden light, brightly colored walls, overgrown plants, and indoor/outdoor living abounded. I was loving Cuba. My apartment was clean, bright, and perfect. Twin balconies overlooked the streets of Havana. The capital shone in one direction and Plaza Vieja in the other. An old cherry apple red Ford convertible idled below while a group of men chatted. Stray kittens mewed and meandered across the street while street puppies play fought beside them. I ventured out in the world after unpacking a bit. I ended up At El Del Frente, a place I could tell would be my new home base. Fresh juice and a welcoming environment, as well as some young English speaking Cuban guys who told me I was their “favorite customer ever.” I’m a sucker for feeling special. I had baked plantain chips, a sweet potato puree, and some incredibly fresh cold lobster tacos. I met an English couple from Yorkshire who were incredulous I was alone, and the woman in particular seemed to feel a bit of motherly responsibility for me. As we ate on a small terrace one floor up, able to somewhat invisibly observe the happenings down below, a Michael Jackson impersonator very enthusiastically (but not too adeptly) performed some renditions of “Black or White” and “Thriller,” complete with sparkly glove. I became lost in my own imaginings of this man as a young boy, watching the only VHS tape in the house of a Michael Jackson concert, drilling himself on the moves and sounds so that someday he could voyage out with a very particular set of skills. My new friends from the UK, Shelley and Rick, took me afterwards to a bar they had been to before dinner, where there was live music. A group of women ran through songs that seemed every Cuban person in the room knew, and brayed along drunkenly. People were salsa dancing, smoking, imbibing in the crowded but pulsing space. This felt like Cuba. “Stand by Me” was also thrown into the mix and we had a chance to sing along. My usual judgments or self-consciousness in this was nowhere to be found. A city, colorful and alive, was allowing me to feel like me.
But it’s funny how days can go. The last line of this, both poignantly true and utterly false on day two. The thing I thought would be tough about traveling as a single woman alone in Cuba, my (lack of) safety or being an easy target, was only partly true. I felt pretty safe, even on blocks that looked as torn apart as Aleppo, but I was constantly catcalled and targeted for the scam du jour. Every block I walked, multiple no’s. The interaction exhaustion I experienced after only one hour “out” forced me back to my apartment to recoup. It reminded me of parts of Asia or Istanbul, for slightly different reasons. Third world with a side of being hit on constantly made it tough. The language barrier was the cherry on top. There’s not many creative ways to couch “NO” when you don’t speak the language. And sometimes they don’t listen. Yesterday a guy followed me home for 30 minutes babbling drunkenly while I completely ignored him (full disclosure: I spoke to him for a couple sentences as “nice American”) before starting to completely ignore him. But that’s the problem with going full “feminist at a frat party” NO. I feel vulnerable here. This is not my country. A way I might feel safe communicating in LA, with a full grasp of the English language, a car in clicker shot, my complete bearings of where I am…that doesn’t apply here. So in a way, you put up with it. “Nice American” it is. It’s brought up a lot of internal questions about feminism here. Sometimes I think many of our male-dominant culture issues are American ones. But as I think about it, there’s really not a single place I’ve been, with the exception of maybe Australia and New Zealand, where that’s not an issue. For some reason, I imagine Tokyo might be the same. However, everywhere else I’ve been catcalled, treated as lesser than, touched without permission. Yesterday, even my well-meaning driver touched my leg an awful lot over my virgin Mojito and his Cuba Libre - and I was the one who felt like it would have been impolite to ask him to stop. It’s truly a global issue. And I’ll be honest, in the case of Havana, it’s making me want to jet to Cancun sooner than later, as much as I also love it here.  I think being a single woman traveling here is truly not an easy task. Despite all this, yesterday was still fun. I found an old flea market near the Plaza de Armas with loads of precious small things: pins, old books, sentimental trinkets. This was nothing like the tourists markets with maracas, cheap drums, and Club Havana t-shirts. I bought a pin that spoke to me - 1972 Blood Donor - as well as an old 1988 Dave Stewart baseball card. Funny to travel all this way for that! The rest of the day was spent wandering out of old Havana and into other areas on the outskirts. I got caught in a sudden tropical rainstorm and kids emerged from every door in underwear, dancing and yelping. I took refuge in a dark corner of Cafe Miglis and had some meatballs that seemed a million miles from Cuba. I took a wander after the rain died down to the nearby Ocean Wall, the Malecon, where young lovers canoodled and fisherman sat on the wall, kicking, looking for the catch of the day while simultaneously hissing at me with approval. I made my way up to the Hotel Malecon, a grand decaying old Hotel but well worth popping in to spend time in the rolling gardens with a drink or a cigar. I exited the hotel quickly and immediately met Michael, a driver with a pink Chevy who beckoned me to come on a city tour with him. I hadn’t planned on this, but why not. I was tired and could use to take a rest and see some sights. So out we went, past the old University with the broad stairs and broken windows, through Revolution Square, a bleak places with a couple outlined portraits of Che Guevara and Fidel Castro, and up to the somewhat mythical Bosque of Havana. The bosque is a forest right in Miramar, on the outskirts of Havana, and though I cringed a little at parts of it being trashed, it still felt like something out of Avatar. People were even bringing dead things down to the river for a Santeria ceremony. We rolled home through Miramar and after a mojito on the Malecon. I fell into a deep sleep at 8pm and slept for 13 hours, exhausted by the stimulation of it all.
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inroomdiningtable · 7 years
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“Warning: incoming object, port side”.
Hopper checked her display – sure enough, there was a medium-sized hemi-circle heading toward her bike at high speed. “Oh my god – a blue turtle shell? Really?! Delores – engage the thrusters and hold on.”
“Engaging thrusters – holding on irrelevant as I have no corporeal form.”
The cycle shot forward. Hopper turned slightly towards the right as the shell rocketed towards her, then, then quickly veered left as the projectile just passed behind her back tire and crashed into a pylon. Though the shell had missed her, it took Hopper a moment to get the bike under control from the shock wave. “Delores – I think  I know who’s after us, but do we have an ID on the Guild jerk?”
“Scanning… silhouette suggests Operative 648-J3.”
Hopper sighed. “Great – Gratik’s on my tail. Figures. Distance?”
“Point seven five kilometers and closing.”
At that point, Hopper realized she really didn’t need to ask. Gratik was a large reptilian who rode an old-school bike with a massive engine and a hole in the muffler; you could hear it from the other side of the city. Hopper checked her display again and started mumbling a few swear words; the lizard was a lot closer than she was happy about.
“Incoming message from Operative 648-J3”.
“Not that I need this now, but go ahead.” Hopper waited for the tiny beep. “Hey there, Snoot – out joyriding?”
“Give it up, Flea – just hand over the package and maybe I won’t have to break up that tinker toy you ride.”
Hopper shook her head. “No way, Snoot – Agency delivers only to its customers, not Guild losers. You want this package? Come get it.”
“That’s the plan. Would have been boring if you handed it over.”
“Delores, how long until Snoot has a visual on us and how far is the delivery?”
“With traffic conditions, two minutes until visual established. Distance from delivery: one point five kilometers.”
Hopper grimaced: not nearly enough time for a chase, but just enough for a decoy. She scanned the vehicles around her until she found a likely match. “Delores: plant a decoy bug on that Vespa.”
“Deploying decoy now.”
Hopper knew it was risky taking a service road, but she had to get out of sight. She flew down the off-ramp, then quickly stopped under the overpass and cut her engine and lights. Within 20 seconds, she heard the roar of Graitk’s engine continuing on.
As Hopper restarted her engine and began to pull away, Delores’ voice came through her helmet.
“Taking this route will add five minutes in travel time; you now have less than ten minutes to reach your destination.”
Hitting the acceleration, Hopper grinned to herself. “One point five K… how bad can it be?”
Hopper turned her bike into the driveway and checked her timer: two minutes to spare.  As she approached the front door, it was suddenly thrown open and a man rushed out. “Are you from the agency? Do you have it?!”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, carefully opening her pack. “One dozen roses, soft pink; one box of assorted dark chocolates; one Barry White CD; and…” She paused as she pulled out the last item. “And… one morning star”.
The man looked a bit sheepish at her. “We met at a Renaissance Faire; she was looking at weapons and I thought it would be cute. It’s our anniversary.”
“Many happy returns to the both of you. Please sign here.”
The man took the tablet and scrawled his name. “Thanks so much for getting here so fast. I wanted to get everything myself, but late meetings and traffic…”
“Don’t worry, sir – that’s what we’re here for. You have a lovely evening and if you can, please leave us feedback on the survey you’ll get tomorrow.” With that, she walked back to her bike and set off at a more reasonable pace.
Ten minutes later, Hopper stopped at a recharging station.  Sure, Delores said the batteries were fine, but it never hurt to be full-up. You never knew when the next signal would show. As she was nursing her coffee, she heard a familiar low rumble behind her.  “You know, you really ought to get that hole in your muffler fixed, Gratik.”
“Nah – I likes the sound. Makes my bike sound mean.” The lizard hung her helmet on the handlebars. “You know, that bug was a nasty little trick. Without that, I almost caught you.”
Hopper smirked at her. “Hashtag almost. You haven’t caught me yet.”
Gratik folded her arms and leaned back against her bike. “Flea, you’re a decent rider. Why don’t you come work for the Guild? We could use someone like you to get the coffee back to us before it gets cold.”
Rolling her eyes, Hopper tossed her empty cup into the trashcan and started unplugging her cycle. “Grunt work, Snoot? That’s all you think I’m worth?”
“As a start. You mights graduate to donut run in a year or two.”
Hopper got onto her bike and fastened her helmet. “No, thanks – quite happy with my current position. Besides, it’s nice to be on the side of love.” She was about to continue when Delores broke in.
“Alert: new package ready for delivery. Your arrival expected at agency within five minutes; package to be delivered in twenty minutes.”
Hopper started her engine. “Sorry, Snoot – duty calls. Maybe you’ll have better luck with the next Agency driver.” Pulling away from the station, she yelled back, “See you later!”
The lizard growled and kicked the tire on her bike. That damn flea was so annoying; one of these days, she was going to catch her and slice off her…
Her train of thought was interrupted by a buzzing noise from her helmet. Gratik put it on and turned on the display.
“INCOMING DELIVERY DETECTED. MAYOR PROPOSING TO GIRLFRIEND; MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO SUCCEED. INTERCEPT TIME: 24 MINUTES OR LESS.”
Gratik turned off the display and chuckled. “Maybe sooner that you think, little flea.”
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