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Chapter

18

Kid

Blink on the Brooklyn Bridge

          I was

sleeping in an empty wooden barrel after a long day of playing hide-and-seek

with Lance and James, and felt more pooped out than a mine worker. I was

sleeping like a baby cub with me eyes closed when suddenly-

          "Peter?

Peter! It's Blink yer frien," I opened me eyes to the whispering voice, and saw

fur and clothing through the barrel's holes. "Peter, are ya wakened? If youse

are, den I hafta tells ya somedin'."

          I remember

mumbling, "What?" like I were a drunk. I was so darn sleepy that I felt like I

was drunk.

          "We talked

in de City Hall Park about de striking, and we's doing it now," Blink whispered

down to me. "I's was wonderin' if ya gonna join us tomorrow?"

          "The one..." I

yawned dreary eyed, "in...in New York?"

          "No de one

on de Moon, of course de one 'ere Peter!" Blink nicked me shoulder softly. I

grumbled and kept asking him to tell me more in the morning. "Fine, but if yaw

anta find me, me and de odder boys are at de Brooklyn Bridge. Sees ya!" And I

fell asleep after that, the memory making me fur tingle and me tail wag in

excitement.

          Hours later,

I smiled while stretching outta the barrel. What did I dream again? I asked

meself. Not recalling it, I shrugged and stretched me cramped tail and walked outta

the alley. Oh well, probably ain't that

important anyway.

It was past sunrise as I

treaded meself along the street, smiling at the sunshine and fresh air. Looking

to me right and left, I spotted Joseph's Bakery and grinned to meself with

hunger. It was Friday and Joseph's trash bin had to be full of burnt bread and

tasty muffins that fell on the floor. Joseph was kind enough to leave it all in

a bin just for me, and it made me tail wag.

          The old wolf does care for me after all,

I thought gleefully.

          As I went

down the alley to the bins of the bakery's trash, something caught me eye.

Bromley wasn't at his usual spot selling papers for sixty cents a roll. In

fact, it felt...eerie.

          Where is the little shepherd? I thought

confused. Maybe he went on strike? Me

paws suddenly froze in place and the hairs on me neck stood. Wait a minute-

          "Peter!"

          I jumped a

mile high and dropped the trash cover, causing an echo through the alley. I

turned fast to see a startled James nervously smiling at me. Before I could

growl, me left ear heard shuffling on the other side of the wooden door, and I

pulled me dumb human friend outta the place and around the corner, just as a

sleepy Joseph stormed out the door.

          Soon as he

left for inside, I turned to me friend. "Jamie, ya nearly turned me into Joseph

Kinnick's new skinned rug!" I hissed in a whisper.

          James held

his bare hands up and chuckled nervously. "Hey I'm sorry I stopped ya from

stealing from Mr. Kinnick," he said to me.

          I folded me

ears and let go of the twerp. "He threw the food outta his bakery, so," I

grinned and pointed me thumb at meself, "it doesn't count as stealing dear

Jamie." James gave me a smirk, and I smirked back while shaking me muzzle. "So

what are ya here for today? From the way ya been breathing heavily, I guess ya

didn't scare me to death for kicks and giggles?"

          "Sadly no

Peter," James straightened himself and breathed heavily. "I was trying to find

you because of what's been happening at the bridge. I was getting groceries for

my parents when I saw..."

          I perked me

ears and leaned closer. "The Brooklyn Bridge? What about it?" I asked

curiously. I eyed the street and noticed several fursons appearing for the day,

and did notice the streets more crowded with wagons than before. "Was there

a...accident or something?"

          "Follow me!

Ya have to see it to believe it!" James grabbed me paw and pulled me south for

the bridge to Brooklyn. Seeing how I hadn't completely woken up for the day, I

bumped into a couple fursons and workers, but they were more occupied with

something else.

          "Did ya hear

about? The newsies all over Brooklyn and Five Points are striking!" I heard a

gray wolf say to a dark furred wolf. "Now how am I gonna get my paper this

week?"

          "Where are

the newsies mommy?" a cub nearby asked her mother. "And what is a 'strike'

mommy?"

          I felt my

eyes turn into giant plates the size of a sewer cap, and a thousand thoughts

ran through me noggin' like racehorses while Jamie went on explaining what's

been riling up everyone in the city.

          "Word's

gotten 'round that almost every newsie is not going to their posts and refusing

to sell papers unless they drop the price from sixty cents to fifty cents, and

give them better pay," he shouted as we ran. For being only twelve, I had to

admit that the human boy's grip on me paw was a strong as the Presser Lessor's.

"The while city's gone bonkers since this morning, and no one's been getting

papers."

          So it was

true. Blink and his newsboys were striking for real!

          As we went

through a crowded street on our way to the bridge, a thought crossed me

noggin'. "Wait a minute Jamie, which papers aren't being given out?!" I asked.

          "All of them

Peter! The New York Journal and the New York World!" James chuckled like a maniac.

"M-Man, Pulitzer and Hearst must be kicking their desk about what's been

happening at the bridge!"

          Those name

sounded familiar to me ears. From what I knew, Joseph Pulitzer was the name of

the gentlewolf who owned the New York World while William R. Hearst was the

gentletiger who owned the New York Journal. Both of their papers were good in

me taste, but them tycoons were richer than a joke.

          Before I

could ask what the heck was going on, I saw her ahead of us; the Brooklyn

Bridge. Towering over the clay building and sitting next to docked ships, it

stretched over the East River like a brick log over a creek. Just looking up at

the top of the darn thing made me head spin for a second. And like the river,

it smelled as awful as a pile of rotten cabbages and dated olives, and was more

crowded than I thought.

          But when I

got closer, I heard shouting, and realized why

it was crowded.

          At the foot

of the bridge were a group of newsies holding picket signs above their muzzles

and heads. I saw mixed breeds, foxes, mice, lots of raccoons, and a dozen or so

humans wearing newsie attire. I couldn't make out the words on their lips, and

the stuck traffic in front of them didn't help either.

          "Strike!

Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!" they chanted. Lord, I never seen so many

newsies crowded in one place. On and on they and others flew their signs high

in the air, chanting "Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!

Strike!"

          Meanwhile,

down among the streetcars stalled and crowded with fursons, a group of police

officers and a few workers were offering their opinions on the strike. Raccoons

and mice shouted encouragement like coins to a homeless wolf, while the dang

coppers offered venom.

          "Screw yer

strike ya filthy brats!" a wolf copper in blue attire shouted at them. Another

wolf officer next to him shouted a taunt that, if I spoke to Mrs. Turner, would

earn me a bar of soap in me maw. "Yer nothing but a buncha worthless and whiney

pinkies!"

          James tensed

next to me, and both of us backed a foot when a couple of human newsies, one

with darker skin and the other with olive skin, tried to break from the newsie

crowd and attack the officers. Luckily, someone grabbed them by the shirt and

pulled them away, and me eyes adjusted into the crowd to see who it was. I was

surprised to see it was Bromley.

          "We's de one

carrying de banner through New York, copper! Why do we git scraps whiles

Pulitzer and Hearst gits de money?!" someone shouted, followed by cheers and

hats being thrown up in the massive crowd.

          "This is

crazy! I haven't seen something this big since the time my dad told me about

his newsie days," James gasped and laughed at me awe. Later in life, I'd learn

from his parents that when James' father Henry was a little human boy, he'd been

in a strike, except it wasn't as large as this.

"This is huge!" I shouted over

their chanting. I stepped closer to the bridge and stared at the newsies like

they were made of gold, maybe their hearts were. "If only Lancie were here, aye

Jamie?"

"He was, but his mum forced

him back home!" James shouted in me ringing right ear, then guided me paw

toward where the officers were; no, behind them. "Mrs. Turner is actually over

there, arguing with the officers on striking."

I followed where he pointed,

and saw the aging raccoon holding a Bible while preaching verses about

believing yourself. So Mrs. Turner is for

striking? I thought in shock. Well, I

guess her heart ain't as shallow as I thought...

"Peter!"

I suddenly heard me name, and

so did James. "Did you hear that?" he asked me with confusion.

"Over 'ere Peter!" I spotted

the voice coming from a waving paw on the edge of the striking area, along the

raining as pedestrians did their best to ignore the newsies in the middle of

the road.

Now it was me turn to grab

James, and pull him with me through the smelly crowds and toward that

fox/raccoon newsie I knew and loved.

"Peter ya wolf, it's greats to

sees ya!" Blink hugged me roughly and ruffled me headfur. "And Jamie! Ain't

whatya sees a beauty?!" He moved his eyepatch a bit and laughed at the

spectacle like a loon on vacation.

"You did this Kid?!" James

asked incredulously. "But..how is this possible? There's gotta be a thousand

newsies on this bridge!"

"More den dat to be exact me

friens!" Blink shouted over the strikers. "Ooh ooh, be quiet fer a moment!

Boots McAleenan's makken' a speech!"

As we stood against the

railing for a moment, our eyes looking from the view of the East River past

them, and back to the newsies chanting, it stopped abruptly when a newsie of

raccoon fur stood tall on a box above the newsies. A few whistles and shouts of

silence later, the newsie cleared his throat and spoke.

"Dey put up prices to six

papes fer a dime w'en de war began. Den de war quit an' dere wasn't no such

sale fer de papes, an' we wanted to get 'em two fer a cent again, but dey

wouldn't. Dat's what we're goin' on strike 'er now. We're doin' it now because

de cops is all busy, an' we can do any scab newsboy dat shows his face widout

police interference. We're here fer our rights, an' we will die defendin' 'em.

At de rates dey give us now we can't make on'y four cents on ten papes, an' dat

ain't enough to pay fer snipes!"

Good Lord, me ears hadn't been

the same when the crowd cheered. A few newsie caps and papers flew above us

like seagulls, the flashes of nearby reporters and shouts from policemen

turning me head into the Liberty Bell.  

"Why ain't ya up there making

a fancy speech yerself Blink?" I called into me hybrid friend's ear. I had to

repeat it to him a second time, and the question oddly made his tail curl and

scrape against the dirty floor. "Blink? Ya on Earth?"

"Huh? O-Oh well," he smiled

down at me and shook his muzzle, "ya can say I hadn't gotten me turn yet.

Hehe..." The hybrid sighed and turned back to the crowd chanting the reason they

stopped Brooklyn Bridge's traffic.

The look of nervousness in me

eyes questioned Blink. The fox/raccoon hybrid next to me and James was acting

weird. Oh well, I coulda asked him later, maybe when all this was over.

After the cheers and jeers

turned into the chanting again amid the honking horns from automobiles, a

couple of newsies jumped outta the crowd and staggered happily toward us. One

was the Boots McAleenan raccoon and the other was the human with dark skin and

white teeth, both of them wearing the newsiest clothes a newsie coulda worn.

"Dave! Boots! Come 'ere ya

dang dogs youse!" Blink happily walked over to them and hugged both along with

a pawshake. He turned to the light-furred raccoon and gave a curious look to

the human named Dave. "Where de 'eck es Crazy Arbonne?"

"Dat coward ain't 'ere,

probably getting' friendly wit de mayor's daughter Kid Blink," Dave laughed

with widened green eyes. "Still, I's glad youse brought us sum friens of yers

Blink. Who are dey?"

The hybrid turned to me and

James with a grin. "Dave Simmons, Boots McAleenan," he announced over the

striking chant and taunts from officers, "I's like youse ta meet me friens frem

Five Points." Blink opened his paw and pointed to us. "Dis is Peter Gray and

James Lawton. Peter, James, I's like youse to meet me friens frem Brooklyn

likewise."

Dave shook hands with James.

"It's nice to meets a feller human once en a while James," he chuckled in a

friendly manner. "Being en Brooklyn, I's feels like I'm de onlies human alive."

"You're telling me. It can be

hard," James let go of Dave's paw. "So all three of you made this?" Me human

friend opened his arms out and chuckled. "I never knew New York had so many

newsies."

"We's hope to let de city

knows dat too," Blink patted me and James shoulders. "We's want de city to know

dat just 'cause we's been through so much dat doesn't mean de cans throw us out

like trash."

Now that was the voice of a

speaker! Why won't he make a fancy speech

like the others? I wondered in confusion. Is it that he's-

"Strikebreakers!"

Suddenly, me eyes looked down

the metal road to see officers on horseback coming this way, carrying bayonets

and clubs in their paws. I nudged Blink on the shoulder and pointed toward

them. And their faces were as colorful as kinescopes.

"Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!

Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!"

"Oh crud-doggies!" Blink

quickly grabbed me paw and James' hand and pulled us away from the crowd.

"Don't falter me friens! Stay where's youse are!"

"Don't attack friens! Keep

striking! We're de king of New York 'ere, not dem!" Dave Simmons shouted as he

jumped onto the edge of the railing and grabbed onto a nearby suspension wire.

As the strikebreakers came

closer to us from the other side of the bridge, every newsie in sight kept

chanting that beautiful word over and over. "Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!

Strike! Strike! Strike!" It didn't even stop until the strikebreakers and

coppers on horseback came charging forward.

"Come wit me!" Blink grabbed

me and James and pulled us in the opposite direction. "We's gots to git outta

'ere now! Dave, Boots, git as many of 'em outta 'ere as ya can!"

Chaos. As I glanced back to

the strike and the strikebreakers, it became another Civil War all over again. Strikebreakers

clubbed newsies as young as ten, other ones punched and pulled them away from

the disbanding crowd. It was madness and awful to see at the moment.

Blink pulled me and James into

a nearby alley a block from the bridge, and as the noise of shouting and cries

continued in the background, I saw Blink look as broken as a homeless

gentlewolf in Five Points.

"This is crazy Blink!" James

breathed heavily in disbelief. "They can't do that to you and your friends!

T-They can't!"

I immediately noticed Blink

doing his best to pull himself together, but still kept his ears folded down in

shame. "We's knew they'd do sometin' likes dat, like with what dey did when de

trolley workers went on strike," Blink explained slowly in confidence. "Me and

me feller newsies got a few tricks up our's sleeves. But," Blink glanced at us

and back to the Brooklyn Bridge like it were on fire, "I'd needs to know if ya

both are wit me. Are ya?"

Me and James glimpse to each

other, and looked to Blink like he were as crazy as the police out there. "Do

ya even need to ask, Blink?" I asked deadpan, then slapped his shoulder.

"Unlike the guys making yer like a living 'ell, I stick with me friends for

life." I smiled, and Kid smiled back with a foxish grin.

"Me too," James nodded in

approval. "My father was once a newsie in Buffalo, and he'd want to help you

out too." I looked to James and reminded meself to give the young lad a hug.

"Are's ya sure me friens?" Kid

asked again, this time with a serious gaze and perked ears. "It'll be as tough

as nail, and I doubt dat de police'll be kinds to ya two."

I chuckled and wagged me tail

wildly. "I've always wanted to mess with the police anyway Blink," I proudly

spoke, "and helping yer friends will be an honor."

"Me too," James said with a

human grin. "I even bet that my parents will be glad to support the newsies

too."

Blink smiled at us and gave a

strong hug to both of us. He told us that we were good friends, and ran off

into the alley while we ran for Five Points.

          We

eventually stopped by James' tenement building, with the streets almost empty

of folk save for cubs playing with a vegetable can. When we went inside me

human friend's apartment, Laura and Henry just started dinner and saw us all

dirtied up and beaten.

"How are ya doing slugger?"

Henry asked us curiously. "What happened to you two?" Me and James glanced to

each other, and explained everything.

"Hmm, that's very interesting

James," Laura said after she listened. "But did you get the groceries for me

honey?"