AAA I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER! The real Irving Hall Rally took place on July 24th. At least, that's what some sources say. Others said July 25th. But most said July 24th, so that's the one I went with. So, for our sake, on Monday, July 24, 1899, this is a rally that I am pretty sure I can guarantee no one has written quite like this. So a lot of the things Racetrack is going to say comes straight from transcripts I found of the actual speech he made at the rally. Some of it I'll include, some I'll alter, and other parts will just be me on the spot. Like said, this is going to be different from everything else. Enjoy! :)

Race is nervous.

Excited, but definitely nervous.

They didn't get everyone. He wasn't expecting everyone anyway.

But there are still a lot of people coming here.

People to hear what he has to say.

Newsies are coming to listen to Racetrack Higgins talk.

There's an idea that he can get used to.

Right now, he's standing backstage, Spot right beside him. They agreed that Race would do most of the talking. It is his idea after all. If needed, Spot will talk. If there's anyone who they think should talk wants to, they'll let them talk. 

Medda's there, too.

"Thank you so much for lettin' us use the theatre, Medda," Race says sincerely. 

"Of course!" she embraces him. "You've grown so much since you first came to this theatre."

Race feels warm inside. It's true. He has. Literally and figuratively. And now he's here.

He's here, about to give the speech of his lifetime.

What in the world was he thinking?

Spot eyes Race. "Hey, I know that face. You're having self doubts. Don't," he advises.

"It ain't that easy, Spot," Race retorts reproachfully.

"Come on, what could go wrong?"

"Literally everything."

"And why would literally everything go wrong?"

"Remember three nights ago?"

"Okay, you got me there."

This time, they only told newsies about the rally. Of course, people who aren't newsies showed up--just like last time. But this time, it won't have the same publicity as the last one. This one is for them. No one else.

"You are going to do absolutely amazing," Medda tells Race. "And always remember that you have a friend in the wings."

Race loves theatre terms. "Thanks, Medda."

He turns to look at Spot, who is smiling.

"It's time," Spot tells him.

"It's time," Race repeats. He takes a deep breath in. It's time.

Seize the day, Racetrack.

Carpe diem.

He walks out onstage with Spot. Everyone goes quiet, ready to hear him speak. Race takes in his surroundings. Blinding stage lights. The feeling in the air from on the stage. Newsies from everywhere in New York all over the theatre. Blink and Mush and all of his other friends (all except for David--who couldn't make it; no one pushed why he couldn't come) in the front row, ready to support him. He knows Medda is behind him. And he has Spot right next to him. With one last deep breath, Racetrack Higgins begins his speech.

"Thank you all for coming tonight. In truth, I wasn't sure how many of you I could convince to come here. Considering the bad luck we had last time, I was afraid you would all be scared off a little."

A chuckle from the crowd.

Gaining confidence, he keeps going. "Say, we've been carrying overweight long enough, and it's just about time we was getting some of the odds in the betting. There was a 75 to 1 shot that we was going to win this here fight at all. And we won. We got in the newspapers."

He takes a deep breath. "I want to tell you all about Chief Devery. Last time we was gathered here, the night before, we took up a collection and got enough money to hire a band to lead us over here. I went up to Chief Devery that day to get a permit, and I says, just as polite as I knows how: 'Mr. Devery, I wants to get a permit, please, to have a brass band lead my newsies to the meeting tonight.'" Race swallows. "He says: 'Get out, you slob.' and I says, 'Mr. Devery, don't call me a slob. I'm trying to make my living. I ain't so high in office as you, but some day I might be higher.' But he wouldn't give up the permit, so we had to leave the band home. Sorry 'bout that, fellas."

He gets another collective chuckle from the crowd.

Spot is so proud of Race. They had rehearsed parts of this several times earlier. Some of this, Race is making up as he goes. But this is the first time Spot's heard the story about the band all the way through. He wants to do something about it, but now is not the time. So instead, he continues to watch and listen.

Race breathes in. Now, he's going off the script. "We were betrayed yesterday. All of us. We thought that Jack Kelly was our leader. He was our friend, and for some of us..." very quietly, he says, "our brother." He stands tall again. "And our man Denton. He didn't do what we thought he was going to do, didn't he? Our problem was that we put a lot of trust in them. They caved in to the very powers we'se are striking against. Are you going to cave in to those powers?"

"NO!" is shouted back enthusiastically at him.

"Good. Because the Journal is paying $2 for anyone willing to sell us out. But the Journal also refuses to contract to pay hospital expenses."

He lets that last note resonate a little, letting the meaning sink in.

(A/N: so that was definitely one of the parts of his speech that went over my head haha. But I found someone who defined it. So in other words, Race is telling them that if he catches them selling the newsies out, he'll soak them himself--and when they're injured, the Journal won't pay for their hospital bills. That's pretty hardcore.)

"Who needs Jack?" Race asks them. "Who needs a leader who said he would be there but never was? We don't need 'em, that's for sure. Who needs a newspaper writer who backs out of the story? We don't. We don't need any of 'em. We got each other. We stick together, the World won't be able to break us up. We had a weak link in our chain. Now that it's gone, we'se good. Now, I don't know how long this strike is going to take, but I think you all can agree with me when I say that the prices goin' up has been tough, and I'm eager to see the prices go on down, no matter how much time it takes."

There's a collective murmur of agreement from the crowd.

Spot smiles. Race is doing it. He's really doing it.

"I think we'll win this fight all right," Race finishes strong. "I ain't made 20 cents this week, but I can stand a heap of that and so can all the Manhattan boys, and Brooklyn boys, and the rest of you. Don't you touch World's or Journal's until they give us a decent deal. We're putting them out of business fast and they know it. We can finish what we started. On the 18th, we started a strike. Now, with or without help, I am going to make sure that we see this strike through until the end."

He steps back.

And instantly, the theatre erupts with cheering.

"LET'S HEAR IT AGAIN FOR RACETRACK HIGGINS!" Spot bellows.

"YEAH!" the crowd hollers back.

Spot grabs Race's hand and holds their hands high above their heads, just like what he and Jack did the other night.

Race has never felt this much attention and praise in his life. He never wants it to end.

When the cheering dies down, they notice someone in the crowd standing up, moving closer to the stage. Two people, in fact. They look around their late twenties. And even though they've aged and wear nicer clothes, Race still knows that they look familiar.

"Hiya, Antonio!" they smile. "Ya wouldn't forget us, wouldya?"

Antonio.

Race puts his tongue in his cheek, thinking hard. That voice...

"Morris," he realizes. He looks at the other. "And Henry."

"You remember!" Henry exclaims, smiling.

"What are you doing here?" Race asks them incredulously.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Henry tells him.

"We were wonderin' if we could get a word in," Morris says.

Race looks at Spot. Spot would know what to do. Once Spot nods, Race invites them on stage.

"We won't take too much of your time," Morris begins. "But we do have a couple of things to say. First, we were newsies, years ago. Now, I know we're all older than all of you, and can't call ourselves newsies of the current day and age."

"But we can support you in anyway that we can," Henry steps in. "I remember those years when I was younger being a newsie. We can empathize with you. And I fully believe in the goals you want to achieve with the strike."

They put their arms around Race. Morris says, "I've known this kid for a good long while. Even though I missed the last few years of him growing up, I saw for myself tonight that he grew up just fine. What do you think, Henry?"

"I say he's a born leader of boys," Henry declares. "and he may yet be of men."

There's a supportive cheer from the crowd.

They agree with that. They are saying these things about me. Is this really happening?

After they give him one last bit of congratulations, they leave the stage.

Race turns to Spot, smiling, feeling lighter on air. Is that it? he silently conveys.

Except that's not it.

Spot has something to say.

"Three nights ago we got together for what we thought was gonna be the greatest thing we've ever done," Spot begins. "We got five thousand newsies to unite. That's a success, right?"

The crowd cheers back at him.

"But I say tonight is the greatest thing we've ever done. We lost our main leader of the strike. But tonight we proved our determination. We'se putting our cause above falling when leaders scab. That is the greatest thing we've ever done."

There's more cheering.

But Spot isn't done.

"Last time, it was agreed that Jack and I were leaders of the strike. But I think we've overlooked someone. You see, it wasn't my idea to get us here tonight. It wasn't my idea to figure out what we were going to do after Jack left us. That was all this man beside me. And he's proven to have all it takes to be a leader, and more." he takes a step back and offers his hand to Race. Facing the audience, he proposes, "whaddaya say I take Race up in the leadership position with me?"

Race was not expecting all the cheering that ensued.

They think Spot and I are the rightful strike leaders.

When Race takes Spot's hand, it's raised over his head again, for even more cheering.

"GO RACETRACK!" Blink and Mush shout from the front row. "WOOOOOO!"

That gets Race to laugh. I love them so much. And it's nice to know that they fully support him.

Spot turns his head to look at Race, and smiles. "You did it, Race!"

"Mm-nn." He squeezes Spot's hand. "You did it. You made sure they would all actually come."

"Can you settle on we did it?"

Race smiles back. "Sure. We did it."

They face outward, grinning.

Race has never been this happy in his life.

As they lower their hands, Medda comes onstage towards them, arms outstretched. "Racetrack, you did it!"

He starts walking toward her too, and gladly goes into her embrace. "I am so proud of you!"

He hugs her tighter. "Thank you for making this happen."

"Of course!" 

Then, when they pull away, Medda does a theatrical pose, and the music begins, getting the crowd to cheer Medda's name.

Now the nerves hit Race. Why is it after the fact of everything that he's now feeling weak in the knees from nerves and all out of breath?

Spot grabs his hand. "Come on!" he pulls Race down the stairs off the stage. "We get front row seats of Medda!"

And so they watch her perform, smiling.

A little bit away, Blink and Mush are watching Race. They are so, so proud of him.

"When did Race grow up like that?" Blink wonders.

Mush shrugs. "No clue. But we helped that happen, right?"

"'Course."

A couple moments of silence.

"Is this the little boy we carried?" Mush asks wondrously.

"When did he get to be so tall?" Blink adds nostalgically.

Then together, they say, "wasn't it just yesterday when he was small?"

They both smile, watching him.

Then they sigh.

"I wish Crutchy was here," Mush tells Blink. "He'd be happy to see Race like this."

"Yeah." Blink sighs. "I wish Jack was here."

Mush nods in agreement. Out of all the people they would have thought would be here to see Race at his finest hour, they thought it would be Jack.

They put their arms around each other's shoulders, and lean their heads in together. They love their brother Race.

Spot is so glad that he pushed Race to follow through with this idea. He knows he surprised Race by saying he wanted him to be a co-leader of the strike, but that made him happy. And Race totally deserves it.

Both Race and Spot feel euphoria like never before. They can do this. They've got each other. They already took the first step. And they'll stay until the last step.

Race is fully satisfied. He's shown all of them that he is more than just different.

He is Racetrack Higgins.

And as they say, a born leader of boys. And maybe some day, a leader of men.

I LOVED WRITING THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT

Okay so on my playlist I have Carrying the Banner, and I should know it's there, but every time I hear the opening "That's my cigar!" I'm surprised and I gasp and get excited. I am so weird haha.

Sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that Newsies is based on a true story. That I'm not just writing fanfiction on a realistic-fiction story. This is an actual event that actually happened. And the story of Newsies is so cool, and I just think that it's amazing that something like this actually happened.

Ok now to talk about this chapter.

https://newsboys-of-1899.tumblr.com/post/167593280083/race-track-higgins-speech-at-the-rally this is one of the links I used for Race's speech and I know it's a tumblr account but I have other sources too. Wikipedia isn't a good source, I know, but I used it. I also used a couple of articles from City Hall Park 1899, one called "The Looker-On" Observing Racetrack Higgins and July 31: "Striking Newsboys Elect Officers, which I didn't use too much, mostly I used July 25, 1899: "Newsboys Act and Talk" (like said before NO ONE can decide if the rally was July 24th or July 25th so I went with the one which more people agreed on). I gotta admit, with all the references the real Racetrack made to gambling combined with an older way of talking, a good portion of what he said went over my head haha. I chose the bits that I could understand, or ones that sounded like something Racetrack would say. Of course, everything he said about Jack I made up on the spot (HA! SPOT), and there were a few other differences I made. For example, the real Racetrack was from Brooklyn, so he would say Brooklyn more than he would in my story when he's from Manhattan, so it's just some minor differences.

The real Racetrack Higgins was voted for vice-president of the newsboys strike union. I kinda used different wording and such, but I mean, close enough.

Morris Cohen and Henry Butler were two strike leaders. Although they didn't speak at the rally (I think), I wanted to honor them as real strikers and brought them back to the story. You all remember them from when Race was little, right? Anyway, adults did come to the strike, most of them adults who had been newsies at one point, all coming to support the newsies in their actions, so I combined the details of Morris and Henry beings leaders and former-newsies showing up.

I based Race's after-the-fact jitters on what happens to me when I'm done with public speaking. It's kinda annoying haha.

So when Mush and Blink are like "is this the little boy I carried?" "when did he get to be so tall?" That came from Fiddler on the Roof. I got inspiration to reference that from Lion King 1/2 haha. I just thought it would be perfect for them to say.

In both rallies I almost accidentally wrote Crutchy into them but luckily stopped myself when I remembered no, he ISN'T there-

Now, I have another question. What do you think about me writing Race as neurodivergent? That's a huge part of the story. And I know that it's not unique to this story, but there are so many other things that go along with it. But what do you think of it? What do you think about my neurodivergent Race?

The quote "I say he's a born leader of boys, and he may yet be of men." is an actual way they described Racetrack Higgins. I think that says a lot about him.

This chapter was by far one of my favorites to write. Race validation! :)

What did you all think of it?

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section at all times.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who had really good music playing while writing the ending and author's note and it just added to the hype and good feels)