Now we hear a heartbreaking tale
Of love
Betrayal
And realizing our rights and wrongs.
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It is late in the evening, almost night, when most of the lower East Manhattan newsboys return to their lodging house every night. I know you wonder how I know this. It is because my dear son, Mark, is a newsboy, or a 'newsie,' as the boys call themselves. He doesn't know I am here. I don't think he would accept me if he knew. But, I watch over him every day from my tenement window.
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"Wake up!" Kloppman yelled to the groggy newsies, "The presses are rollin'!" Specs never had to be woken up by Kloppman. He was awake nearly a half hour before everyone else every day. Only himself and God knew what he did during that time. That was the way he wanted to keep it. He didn't know that there was someone else in on the secret.
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Every morning I wake up at four o'clock, an hour before the newsies are roused. Mark wakes himself a half-hour before anyone else. During that time he takes out his bible and prays. Today he takes a tattered photograph out from under his mattress, and cries. The picture is of me. He believes I am dead. I cannot bear to be the reason for his tears. I must tell him of my existence.
There is a sound from the corner of my tiny apartment. The baby is no longer asleep. I will have Mary take care of him. Mary is fourteen now, and should learn how to take care of the baby. After all, I wont be strong enough to even walk soon. My days are numbered.
I must confront my son before I die. I cannot bear the thought of leaving this earth without him knowing how much I love him.
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"Hey Specs," Duchy called out to his best friend, " Ya gat a lettah!" At the mention of mail the newsies all stopped in their tracks. No one ever got mail at the lodging house. There was no reason for anyone to send anything to the newsies.
"What's it say?" Jack pleaded Specs to share.
" Ya' gotta' give him a chance ta' open it foirst, Cowboy," Kloppman reminded the eager teen.
Specs opened the plain envelope with trembling fingers. The few letters received at the lodging house were always bad news. But who did he know that would send him any news? He had no family- anymore, and all of his friends were newsies, like him. He began reading the letter out loud.
"Dear Mark,"
"Mark?" Race asked, clearly amused, "you'se name is Mark?" Specs, or Mark, just ignored the short Italian.
"You most likely do not know who I am, or why I am writing this letter to you. Rest assured that I am someone who loves you very much. I am someone who has watched over you since you were born. I am also someone with a lot of explaining to do. Please join me and my family for supper tonight at six o'clock. You should be done selling by then.
Love,
Someone who cares
(*author's note- he can find the apartment by using the return address*)
"Are ya' gonna' go, or not?" Jack asked, breaking the tense silence.
"Yeah, I feel like it's da right 'ting foah' me ta' do. Ya' know?" Specs looked at Jack with the question in his eyes. Jack just nodded his head somberly in response. Then, all the newsies left the lodging house to sell the afternoon edition.
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I wrote him a letter. I am too afraid to tell him who I am. I must be braver if I am going to meet my son. He looks so much like his father.
~ Begin Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
" You bitch!" He hit her "I will not take care of this baby! This is a whore's baby! I'll bet it's not even mine!" He hit her again.
"He looks just like you, though, Dan!" She had responded. Stupid! Her husband would probably hit the baby too, now that she had said that. To her surprise, he didn't. What he did do was much worse. He evicted her.
"Get out of my house, and don't ever come back. If I ever see you, or that boy again, I'll kill you both!" With that she picked up her screaming child and ran. She had nowhere to go, and no money. She could not possibly care for a baby.
Around day three of her new life she decided it was better for everyone if she gave the boy away. The orphanage would not do. She only had one other person to turn to, her deceased father's best friend, John Kloppman. So she left her son on the front stoop of the Duane street lodging house with a note and a photograph of herself. She knocked on the door, and hid in a nearby alley.
~End Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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"I dunno, Dutch. I'm startin' ta 'ave second thoughts 'bout dis. I mean, I dunno who I'm gonna meet or anything! What if it's a trick? Me fadda's been afta' me foah yeahs!" Specs was a nervous wreck. Dutchy knew that there was no way his friend was going to make it though this ordeal on his own. Besides, it's always safer to have someone else with you, especially with a rich murderer, like me pop, on your tail. "I'll come wit' ya'," Dutchy offered, "If ya' want me ta', dat is." He recovered quickly.
"Please come wit me? Ya' aint gotta say nuttin, or do nuttin." Specs was so worked up that he hadn't noticed when Dutchy proposed that very idea a moment ago. Duchy smiled.
"Soah."
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He should be here any minute. Everything is ready. Well almost everything. Mary still has no idea that she has a brother. I hope to God that his father doesn't find him here. From what I've seen, the other newsboys have made sure that Dan doesn't see Mark. Like I said, Mark looks just like his father. I look out of my window. Mark is crossing the crowded street with his closest friend. He will be knocking on my door any second. I panic. What if he doesn't accept me? What will I say to him?
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"I dunno 'bout dis, Dutch." Specs confided, "I feel like I's got a hundred buttahflys in me stomach."
"Don't worry 'bout it," Dutchy reassured Specs, "I'll be dere ta help ya if ya get inta any sticky situations."
"Well, heah we are, it's now or never," Specs practically sobbed. His voice was several octaves higher than usual with an occasional squeak. Dutchy internally thought Specs sounded like an awkward fourteen-year-old boy.
"Just knock, dumbass," he joked, trying to lighten his nervous friend's mood.
"OK," Specs tried to sound calm, but failed dreadfully.
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Bang! Bang! Bang! Three knocks resounded on the outside of Martha Mitchell's small apartment. Her son had finally arrived.
"Mary!" she called, "Answer the door for me, please." (The doctor, himself was amazed at her miraculous recovery from her deathly illness) While Martha still wasn't able to walk yet, she was going to survive. That was all that mattered to her.
Mary went to open the door. She was surprised to find two newsies at her door.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"I," The light haired young man said with a flourish, "am Dutchy, an dis here is your beloved Mark." He motioned to the brown haired teenager shaking in the doorway.
"Sorry," the girl replied politely, "But I don't know anyone named Mark."
Dutchy noted that Specs look considerably relieved by this statement.
"But I do know someone named Mark," a raspy voice declared from across the room. Specs looked towards the middle-aged woman speaking, and nearly fainted. It was his mother.
"Ma?" He queried, unsure of the verdict.
"Son!" She cried, "I love you." Little did she know how much Specs had yearned to hear those words she uttered.
"What is going on here?" Mary practically screeched.
"Mary, this is your brother, Mark."
Specs had never been happier in his life.
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Now we leave this heartwarming scene,
Without yet filling the gaps in between
Will Spec's father ever find his wife or son?
Will Mary realize that Dutchy's 'the one'
What other arguments will be started and repaired?
Look for the next installment of: "Someone Who Cares"