Oooh, Brooklyn!

*cue the Irish music that plays in 92sies when they go to Brooklyn because Brooklyn was the city where most of the Irish immigrants went*

Also, I looked it up, walking from Manhattan to Brooklyn is like 3 hours ... that's long haha.

Enjoy! :)

-----------------------

Jack, Boots, and David begin their journey across the Brooklyn Bridge into the infamous Brooklyn.

David can honestly say he's never been to this part of New York before. This is going to be an experience for him.

Jack and Boots are having fun making their way across the Bridge. David trails behind them, amused, watching them and looking at the stunning view.

"You've ever been to Brooklyn, Davey?" Jack makes conversation.

"No I haven't," David answers honestly.

"Really?"

"I spent a month there one night," Boots adds.

David plays that in his head again and again, seeing if emphasizing a certain intonation or word or phrase will make the sentence make more sense.

About half way across the Bridge, Jack and Boots rush over to the side.

"Hey Davey!" Jack shouts to David. "You have to try this!"

Suddenly, Jack and Boots lean over the edge. "OH-OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The three laugh. It does look fun. But they have a mission.

"So, is this ... Spot Conlon really dangerous?"

Instead of answering his question, Jack and Boots laugh.

I suppose I'll get an answer once we get there.

Not that this is too promising.

He sighs, trying to figure out how this is how his life is going.

Finally, they reach the docks of Brooklyn; in the heart of Spot Conlon's terf. 

David keeps his head down and averts his eyes. He's aware that most of the newsies here will be Irish, and while yes, not all Irish boys are like the ones he hears about, he still has what's been ingrained into his head up and center in his mind. Just keep your head down, and these Irish newsies won't want to pick on the little Jewish boy.

Jack walks with confidence, although not feeling as sure as he seems. Whether the act is for him or for these newsies, he's not entirely sure.

"Goin' somewhere, Kelly?" a newsie asks Jack, challenging him. Jack stares him down, and the newsie loses interest.

David's eyes go wide. This guy has got to be at least half a foot taller than Jack. Maybe; David's gaze is moving around too wildly to actually make a solid observation.

If this guy answers to Spot Conlon ... just how big and intimidating is Spot Conlon?

"Well if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick," Spot Conlon declares from his perch, high above it all.

David cranes his neck to see a small kid with a face full of freckles and some of the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

Jack grins up at him. "I see ya moved up in the world, Spot."

Spot. So this is the Spot that had all the other newsies worried. But he looks like a kid...?

Spot grins back at Jack. He hops down. He's even shorter than David thought he would be. Then, to David's further surprise, Spot spits into his hand, Jack does the same, and they shake.

Jack pats Spot on the shoulder with his other hand, smiling. This is his 'brother' from Brooklyn; not blood-related, but close all the same.

"Now, what happens to your posture when you're up there?" Jack asks in a low voice, a quick nod up at the perch. "You know it ain't good to bind your chest and have bad posture."

"Relax, I'm fine," Spot answers. "I appreciate ya checkin' in on me, really, but I got this. 'Sides, I ain't up there too much."

"Just long enough before havin' the need to jump down to make a cool entrance, yeah?"

"Mmm, yeah."

Jack smiles. "Cool."

"Don't I get any greeting?" Boots calls to them, feigning hurt.

They turn out to face Boots. Spot smiles. "Hey, Boots. How's it rollin'?"

Boots was ready for this. He pulls marbles out of his pocket. "I got a couple of really good shooties for you."

"Oh yeah?" Spot takes the marbles with a smile. "Yeah, they are."

Boots can't help smiling. Even though David views Spot as a kid, that kid is still fifteen years old; three years older than Boots; so Spot liking something Boots gave him makes Boots feel appreciated and gives him a little confidence boost.

Spot puts a marble in his slingshot. "So, Jackie Boy. I've been hearin' things from little birds. They've been chirping in my ear." He pulls the strap back. David makes sure he's far away from the aim. "Things from Harlem, Queens..." He lets go, and hits a glass bottle straight on. David's eyes widen as his heart pounds, finally getting an idea of why the newsies back in Manhattan were so reluctant to come here. "From all over." Spot looks back at Jack. "They say 'Jackie Boy and his newsies are playin' like they'se goin' on strike.'"

"Yeah, well, we are," Jack tells him.

"But we aren't playing," David clarifies quickly. He doesn't want Spot to get the wrong idea.  "We are going on strike."

Oh, right, Jack thinks. Good thing Davey's got quick thinking. He knew he was missing something in his fast response.

Spot's eyebrows raise. That's when it occurs to David and Jack in the same exact moment that they never introduced David and Spot; David had just kind of been in the background. Well, not anymore.

Spot gets in David's face. "Oh yeah? Yeah?" He leans back, eyes narrowing, trying to figure David out. "What is this, Jackie Boy? Some kind of Walkin' Mouth?"

David has no idea how to respond. Luckily, Jack's got this one.

"Yeah, a walkin' mouth," he says. "A mouth with a brain. And if you'se has half of one, you're gonna listen to what he has to say."

David's heart flutters at Jack's praise. Did he really mean all of that?

Spot leans back, eyes narrow, cane in hand. He's listening.

So David has to make this good. 

He swallows, trying to gather his thoughts together while he still can.

What to say, what to say, what to say...

And then he has it.

"Well, we were wanting to go on strike," David says. "And ... and ... we knew that we couldn't do it alone, no way. We needed help from all the other boroughs. Well, at least most of them. Anyway, there are boroughs out there that aren't that convinced that this is something that we need to strike for. But the newsies of Manhattan are tired of Pulitzer treating us all like we're nothing. So we want to strike. And we can't do that without support. And, the thing is, all those boroughs? They're looking to you, to Brooklyn, because ... because ... well, you're the key. Spot Conlon is the key. 'Cause if we have Spot Conlon on our side, then we have the most famous newsie on our side. And not just most famous newsie in Brooklyn--the most famous newsie in all of New York--and maybe—probably—everywhere else. So they're all waiting to see what you're going to do. And if they see you join us, then everyone will join us, and we'd be unstoppable. So ... well, you gotta join us--I mean, you gotta!"

He takes a deep breath, trying to play back all he said in his head, but he can't remember most of it. He just remembers rambling, reasoning, seeing the key around Spot's neck, and a weak ending point. He just hopes it went well.

Meanwhile, Jack stares at David in amazement, the smile that had slowly been creeping up Jack's face gradually is now a wide smile. Yeah. That's my selling partner. He's so proud of David. And he's feeling something else he can't quite describe.

David fidgets with his hands nervously as Spot continues to contemplate.

"You're right, Jack," Spot says at last. "A mouth with brains. But I got brains too."

Jack pulls his cowboy hat on his head, biting his lip nervously. This is where it could all go right, or all go wrong.

"How do I know you punks won't run at the first sign of danger once some goon comes at ya?" Spot asks. "How do I know you have what it takes to win?"

"You don't, Spot," Jack says. "You're just gonna have to trust me."

Spot turns his back to them, taking a few steps. "That ain't good enough, Jackie Boy." He stops and turns back around. "You got to show me." And with that, he turns around again and walks away.

Spot Conlon has made a decision, and it's not in their favor.

This mission was unsuccessful.

Jack, David, and Boots walk in silence for the most part across the Bridge.

David doesn't like seeing Jack in sullen silence. He has to think of something that will make him happier. A memory, a joke...

Or an action.

Actions speak louder than words. 

Suddenly, without warning, David rushes ahead of Jack and Boots, and goes straight to the edge of the Bridge. "OH-Ohhhhhhhhh!"

Boots lets out a happy sound of delight and rushes to join him.

"Hey!" Jack exclaims, smile on his face. "Warn a guy when you're gonna do somethin' like that, huh? Yellin' off the Bridge don't have to be a solo act." He leans over the edge next to David. "'Sides, you need to do it right."

At the same time, the three yell as loud as they can over the Bridge. "OH-OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

They come back up laughing. David and Jack stare into each other's eyes, and for now, this is all they need to focus on.

------------------------------------------------

Aww, wholesome ending.

How was that?

Like I said, many, many people in Brooklyn were Irish immigrants/descendants. And a guy with a last name like Conlon? Who canon/fanon has a first name of Sean Patrick? Yeah, definitely Irish haha. Oh, also, little history of Conlon--it's an anglicized version of Ó Connalláin; believed to be derived from the two Irish Gaelic words "Con" (or Cú, meaning "hound") and "Lón" meaning "lion." I think this is kinda cool.

Okay, so I don't really know how/where to write this in the story, but I wanna point out that there were POC newsies (like Boots; also Boots was a real newsie). The lodging houses weren't racially segregated, so kids from everywhere could stay as long as they could pay the lodging fees. At least two of the strikers mentioned in the articles of 1899 were Black (I won't get too far into details because of course there still is a lot of racist language involved even in the nicknames that they were called but if you want more info the website/blog/Tumblr Newsboys Of 1899 has a lot of info), and also at least one Native American newsie was mentioned. I just wanted to bring awareness to this, because I am aware of how much I'm talking about Irish this and Italian that and they were Jewish and so forth, and I don't really know where this sentence is going, but yes, there were newsies of color, and they played just an important role in the strike as everyone else.

(It still gets to me how back then Irish, Italian, and Jewish immigrants were considered POC; as well as many Eastern European immigrants. It's just ... wow. And also fun fact, Irish, Jewish, and Italian immigrants apparently made up 80% of the New York newsboys at the time of the strike.)

I think David's paragraph trying to convince Spot changes at least slightly every time I write it haha. I'm always like okay, what's believable, and what would he really want to say haha. But each time, Jack still looks at him lovingly.

And just. Neurodivergent rambling when trying to persuade someone (especially when you don't know them). Bad ending. Either forgetting what you said after you said it or never being able to forget what you said. ...Yeah haha.

Did anyone notice how in the movie anytime Jack is nervous he puts his cowboy hat on top of his head? I just think that detail is really important.

Yup, Spot is trans too. What, did you think I'd actually write all my newsies to be cis? *disappointed head shake*

Also Actions speak louder than words is a phrase that has been around since 1856 when Abraham Lincoln said it. 

Javid is developing :)

Can you imagine what the movie/musical would have been like if Spot actually said yes to join the strike the first time around?

We probably wouldn't have Seize the Day because of it.

Speaking of seizing the day ... one can only guess what the next chapter is...

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE!!!!!!! :)
<333

Please, no homophobia or transphobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who is really satisfied by how the length of this chapter turned out)