thegreatbuttoneer · 5 months ago
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Jack "Oh no" Kelly
Davey "That's DISGUSTING-" Jacobs
Les "SHE AIN'T GOT NO CLOTHES ON" Jacobs
Katherine "Good for you 😃" Pulitzer/Plumber
Racetrack "Ya erster" Higgins
Crutchie "I gawt poisonality!" Morris
Spot "On the grounds of BROOKLYN. 😏" Conlon
Joe "I don't look as pretty 😔" Pulitzer
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jackmkelly · 5 months ago
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jack kellys at his prime when he thinks hes hot shit … whenever an actor makes a choice and its the most asshole teenage boy one can do im just so sat
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make-friends-with-the-rats · 6 months ago
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part one
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xtruss · 9 months ago
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Joe Rosenthal And The Flag-Raising On Iwo Jima
Read Rosenthal’s own story about his picture of six U.S. Marines raising the American flag on Mount Suribachi — perhaps the best-known Pulitzer Prize-Winning Photograph.
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Perhaps no Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph is better known than Joe Rosenthal’s picture of six U.S. Marines raising the American flag on Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima. It was taken on Friday, Feb. 23, 1945, five days after the Marines landed on the island. The Associated Press, Rosenthal’s employer, transmitted the picture to member newspapers 17½ hours later, and it made the front pages of many Sunday papers.
The photo was the centerpiece of a war-bond poster that helped raise $26 billion in 1945. On July 11, before the war had ended, it appeared on a United States postage stamp. Nine years later it became the model for the Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington, Va.
Normally, the Pulitzer Prize Board considers journalism published in the previous calendar year for the prizes. It made an exception for Rosenthal’s picture, awarding it the 1945 prize for Photography a little over two months after it was taken.
F.A. Resch, The AP’s executive newsphoto editor, submitted it, supplemented by others taken by Rosenthal on Iwo Jima, on March 29, 1945. The Photography jury was just finishing its work and apparently did not consider it.
“We felt the material was so outstanding that it merited consideration accordingly,” Resch wrote to a Pulitzer Advisory Board member.
“The endless citations which have been made in connection with the flag-raising picture — in Congress, as the basis for the Seventh War Loan drive, as the basis for numerous statue and memorial suggestions — are unprecedented in the history of news pictures.”
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The War-Bond Poster Inspired By Rosenthal's Prize-Winning Photo
Resch pointed out that the AP had transmitted to its members half the 60 pictures Rosenthal made on Iwo Jima. “To the best of my knowledge no newsphotographer on any assignment before or during this war has achieved such results either in terms of so many newsworthy pictures taken under dangerous conditions, or in terms of consistently high technical quality of the product.”
The Pulitzer Advisory Board acknowledged receipt of the photos on April 18 and assured Fesch they would receive consideration.
A short time later, it was announced that the Rosenthal photo had won the prize.
A misunderstanding later led to repeated allegations that the photo had been staged. Sgt. Bill Genaust, who had been with Rosenthal at the time of the flag-raising and made a film of it, was later killed in action. His film proved that Rosenthal had not staged the picture.
Here is Rosenthal’s own story about the picture, which the AP put out on March 7, 1945, less than two weeks after the flag-raising.
‘I hope this was worth the effort’
“See that spot of red on the mountainside?” the bos’n shouted above the noise of our landing craft nearing the shore at the base of Suribachi Yama.
“A group of Marines is climbing up to plant our flag up there. I heard it from the radioman.”
He was plenty excited — and so was I.
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The Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington, Virginia, United States
The fall of this 560-foot fortress in four days of gallant marine fighting was a great thing. A good story and we should have good pictures.
So in I went, back to more of that slogging thru the deep volcanic ash, warily sidestepping the numerous Japanese mines. On past the culverts where the Japanese dead lay among the wreckage of their own gun positions and up the steep, winding, always sandy trail.
Marine Pvt. Bob Campbell, a San Francisco buddy of mine, and Sgt. Bill Janausk of Tacoma, Wash., were with me and carried firearms for protection (which is disallowed to correspondents).
There was an occasional sharp crack of rifle fire close by and the mountainside had a porcupine appearance of bristling all over, what with machine and anti-aircraft guns peering from the dugouts, foxholes and caves. There were few signs of life from these enemy spots, however. Our men were systematically blowing out these places and we had to be on our toes to keep clear of our own demolition squads.
As the trail became steeper, our panting progress slowed to a few yards at a time. I began to wonder and hope that this was worth the effort, when suddenly over the brow of the topmost ridge we could spy men working with the flagpole they had so laboriously brought up about quarters of an hour ahead of us.
I came up and stood by a few minutes until they were ready to swing the flagpole into position.
I crowded back on the inner edge of the volcano’s rim, back as far as I could, in order to include all I could into the scene within the angle covered by my camera lens.
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I rolled up a couple of large stones and a Japanese sandbag to raise my short height clear of an intervening obstruction. I followed up this shot with another of a group of cheering Marines and then I tried to find the four men I heard were the actual instigators of the grand adventure. But they had scattered to their units and I finally gave it up and descended the mountain to get the pictures out and on their way to possible publication.
'This picture has done quite a lot to attract attention of people to what those men were doing out there, and they then want to get more of the story what kind of a battle it was, what their courage and tenacity was and the great losses, great sacrifices,' Rosenthal says here.
The way down was quite a bit easier, the path becoming well worn, and men were carrying ammunition, supplies, food and rations necessary for complete occupation of this stronghold.
The Marine history will record Iwo Jima as high as any in their many gallant actions in the Pacific.
I have two very vivid memories: The fury of their D-day assault and the thrill of that lofty flag-raising episode.
It is hard now in the quiet atmosphere of this advance base to find words for it. The Marines at Iwo Jima were magnificent.
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orchestrahearts · 2 years ago
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happy passover! i’m probably rather late for the other time zones ahead of me, sorry.
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theoneandonlynikki · 21 days ago
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Everytime I listen to the Newsies soundtrack I just love the absolute power move of then referring to Pulitzer as "Joe".
I love that. I love calling your villains silly nicknames. It makes them less intimidating.
Which is why I want to hear some call Sauron "Ronnie". That would absolutely destroy him. I live for that.
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fansiesmemes · 11 months ago
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*At family dinner*
Pulitzer: Kelly, could you pass the salt
Jack: Joe, could you pass away
Katherine: *To the extended family* Don’t worry, this is normal
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i-didnt-do-1t · 4 months ago
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And what if the Delanceys ran into Katherine, after the fight but before the scene in Pulitzer’s office.
It was a dusty cobble-stoned back alley they spotted her in; a familiar head of auburn hair, with her chin tipped up in some over-confident mockery of determination as she walked, shoulders back like she belonged there, or at least trying to pretend she did. As if the money evident all over her wasn’t evidence enough that she wasn’t from round these parts, the expensive heavy fabric of her dress that actually fit properly, obviously tailored, the curl of her hair, the way she held herself. It was a part of town she really shouldn’t be in around at this time in the evening, and one she never would’ve been in, if it weren’t for the strike; the lodging house was maybe three or four street overs.
A newspaper, and Morris could only assume it was the one published this morning by The Sun, was tucked under her arm as she walked. Oscar had spotted her too, he could tell, the way he went still beside him, held out an arm in front on him to stop him walking any further.
“You think Pulitzer’s told her she’s banned from publishin’ in all the papes?”
It had been an interesting morning, hanging around Pulitzers office, a ceiling higher than he’d ever seen a building have aside from maybe a church, big heavy doors that didn’t creak, a soft carpeted floor. Him and Oscar had spent most of the day leant against a wall in the corner, not being spoken to or acknowledged, but listening. Oscar had leant forward and paid even closer attention at the talk of bringing Snyder in.
It was late now though, and Morris had to admit he was exhausted, an early start and a boring day always tended to do that to him but Oscar had wanted to go out for drinks so they’d found themselves wondering for a bar he hadn’t got banned from yet.
Oscar glanced at him, and then swiftly refocused his gaze on her. He matched his question with one of his own. “You think she’s told Kelly she’s Joe’s daughter.”
Morris’s lip twitched, he shrugged lazily as he reached for the pack of cigarettes tucked into his jacket pocket. He didn’t have to ask Oscar for the matches, just held his hand out and Oscar rolled his eyes and dropped them in his palm.
“Think we should go ask her?”
Morris held his cigarette between his teeth, and shook out the match, a wafting string of smoke rising from it before dissipating. “Sure.”
The thing was, Oscar could be subtle when he wanted. He frequently wondered around the house near silently, and he’d unintentionally made Morris jump more than once by just appearing. But Morris supposed that with spending so much time being treated like he wasn’t there, some of it must’ve been internalised, that being invisible must’ve become like second nature.
But Oscar wasn’t being subtle right now. The backstreet, aside from the click of her heels on the cobble, was empty, quiet, until he yelled.
“Oi. Pulitzer.” His voice seemed to reverberate.
The click of heels stopped, and Morris took a long drag of his cigarette, following closely behind Oscar as he approached her.
His brother lightly cracked his neck as he went, that smile that Morris knew meant trouble spreading as easy as butter across his face; equal parts charming and unnerving, because Oscar always loved confrontation when it looked like this, when he knew there was no danger of him losing.
Katherine’s shoulders had seemed to square even further, Morris observed, her jaw hard, lips tight as if she’d eaten something sour, as she glanced between them both. Oscar was closer now, and Morris decided it was his place to lean against the scraping red brick wall behind him, sucking in more smoke and exhaling and just watching.
“Do I know you.” Katherine said, and her voice sounded like money, full without an accent rounding off the edges.
“Wrote some damn scathin’ shit in the article for pretending not to know us.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone after the boys with bats.”
“We all got different jobs Pulitzer.” She paled slightly, at hearing her name, and Morris watched as Oscar’s eyes lit up slightly. She didn’t know they knew. “An’ we’re gettin’ paid to make sure they go back to work.”
“And you really don’t have any moral qualms with that-“
“With takin’ your da’s money? No, I ain’t. It lines my pockets real nice.”
Morris felt his own lip twitch up around the cigarette, he exhaled smoke and felt her gaze jump to him briefly. She looked near white with how pale she was, he acknowledged. Morris and Oscar had some colour to them at least, it was summer after all. The spattering of freckles had already broken out on his face and Oscar’s arms, hours of working out in the sun in mid summer. She was like a clean sheet of paper.
“My father isn’t a good man.” Her voice didn’t shake but it wasn’t as steady as he’d heard it.
“Yeah? He pays well if you do what he asks.”
“Lapdogs, then.”
Morris, entirely without meaning to, barked out a laugh. “We ain’t the ones newly banned from publishin’ strike news.”
She stared at him, eyebrows furrowing. Oscar was still wearing that smile and the silence seemed to drag on for as long as it took morris’s to exhale the drag of his cigarette.
“What?” She asked.
“You ain’t heard yet?” Her attention was once again, on Oscar. “Your daddy ain’t want you writin’ about this no more. No one’s gonna publish it.”
In one smooth movement, Oscar snatched the paper from under her arm, ignored her single attempt to grab it back from him, the way her breath hitched in what he could only assume was anger. Her jaw was hard. She looked tense
“Newsies stop the world.” Oscar read out, and the tone in his voice was mocking. Mean. A far cry from the anger he’d snapped it with this morning as they were unloading the papers. It had taken longer than usual, stiff and torn up from the fight the day before. They both still looked rough now, blackening bruising around Oscar’s neck, and Morris knew he was sporting a black eye.
Pulitzer didn’t have a mark on her. He’d heard Kelly snap at her to run before things got bad.
“It’s a good article-“
“It’s bullshit.” Oscar interrupted. “Ain’t no real reporters takin’ this on cause it ain’t news.”
“I am a real reporter.”
“With no newspaper to write for.”
She swallowed, and Morris thought about how small she was, having to stare up to Oscar like she did, 5’4 at best maybe, compared to Oscar’s little over 6 ft.
“You’re just frustrated that I’m a real reporter and all you’re ever going to be is the man that sells the newspapers I write for.”
If she was expecting Oscar to be angry she was wrong, and Morris exhaled smoke and tapped out ash again before grinding out his cigarette on the wall behind him. He pushed himself away from it, tired of this now. He wanted to pass out.
“We’ll be sure to tell Kelly s’what you think of him.”
“That’s not-“
“An’ your daddy wants you home real fast Pulitzer.” Oscar tossed the paper, crumpled now from his grip on it, to the ground at her feet. “He’s puttin’ down some new ground rules.”
He could feels Katherine’s gaze still on them, searching, as Oscar turned back to her; he wordlessly held his hand out to him for a new smoke. He lit up the end of it, and turned around real briefly, spoke between his teeth.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Pulitzer.”
And the two of them, started off shoulder to shoulder, side by side, a new cigarette lit between the two of them, before Katherine could ask what was happening tomorrow.
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iloveplayrehersal · 1 year ago
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Joe Pulitzer after Jack returns the money for Santa Fe: I thought you where smarter than this
Jack:Happy to disappoint
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nocternalrandomness · 2 years ago
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Iwo Jima, Japan February 23, 1945
Joe Rosenthal's "Flag Raising on Iwo Jima". Taken on Mount Suribachi four days after the Marines landed, it was a Pulitzer Prize winning photograph.
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head-post · 3 months ago
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Kamala Harris campaign launches first ad
US Vice President Kamala Harris has released her first campaign video, saying she will run for president less than a week after US President Joe Biden announced he was dropping out of the race and his Vice President announced she was running for the nomination.
The ad wraps up a week in which Harris broke funding records and quickly secured the support of enough delegates to become the presumptive nominee in an election that is just over 100 days away.
The video released Friday morning opens with footage of Harris’ smiling face behind a podium, the word “Kamala,” the word “Harris” and an American flag. The soundtrack is Beyoncé’s song Freedom, to which Harris began and ended her first appearance before campaign staff after gaining momentum lightning fast on her way to the presidential nomination. The song features Pulitzer Prize-winning rapper Kendrick Lamar.
She wrote on her official social media account X:
“I’m Kamala Harris, and I’m running for President of the United States.”
The ad has a great deal of optimism. Harris does not talk about his work as a prosecutor. Voters are shown at rallies, at home, at work or at the doctor’s office. A close-up shows a woman in a lab coat with the word “Obstetrics” embroidered on it, a reference to Harris’ strong stance on abortion rights. Almost everyone in the advert is smiling or laughing. They hold posters that read Kamala and wave the New Progress pride flag.
Read more HERE
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fanfiction-she-wrote · 9 months ago
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Pulitzer's Daughter
A redemptive take on the confrontational scene in Pulitzer's office before the rally, as well as the rally and rooftop scene.
Word Count: a little over 9000 (I'm a fiend, I know)
Warnings: perhaps some language, mentions of potential abuse (physical/emotional/verbal) but nothing graphic or explicit
Author's Note: I do bring up Lucille, Pulitzer's second oldest daughter who died two years before the Newsboy Strike in 1897 at the age of 17 from typhoid fever, so just wanted to offer that context. Also, I'm playing with the idea of continuing this into a mini collection that includes Jack and Katherine telling everyone about her identity, the blackmail, and The Children's Crusade, as well as maybe a heart to heart about the Pulitzer family dynamic and the process of writing The Children's Crusades? I'm really out here trying to build up Katherine's character a little more so I can justify my love for her lol.
Still reeling from the excitement she felt over the upcoming rally, Katherine Plumber roamed the streets, giddily informing every Newsie she passed about it. By the time she made it to the gates of The World, the sun had started to go down and the Newsies had all scrambled to sell the last of their papes before the meeting, leaving Katherine to her thoughts. She wanted to be realistic about the odds, but she couldn’t help the hope that had stirred from within her. This just might work. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice ring out beside her.
“Just who we’s were lookin’ for.” Katherine whirled around to come face to face with one of the Delancey brothers. She tried to take a step back, but where one brother was, the other was never far behind. In this case, it came in a literal sense as the other brother stood right behind her and blocked her motion. “Mr. Pulitzer would like to speak with you.” A slew of responses swam through her mind, every single one of them sarcastic and witty and not particularly cooperative, but they all left as she spotted a figure looking down at her from the office balcony above. Biting her tongue, she followed them silently, keeping her head down. As the doors opened and she was escorted into the room, she faced the mayor, two World staffers, and the infamous Joe Pulitzer who all looked her way.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the lady of the hour,” Pulitzer said sneeringly, newspaper in hand. He unfolded the paper as he stood directly in front of her, holding the print to her face for her to see. “Are you proud of yourself?” Katherine straightened her posture a tad.
“I am. Those boys-”
“Are none of your concern. Clearly, you’ve allowed your bleeding heart to guide your pen.” 
“But-” She went to reach for the paper and explain herself, but he retracted it with an aggressive flick, causing her to flinch.
“Sit.” She immediately backed away and obediently took a seat in the nearest chair. As soon as she plopped down, the other men in the room spoke up, clearly carrying on a conversation she had missed the context for.
“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?” the mayor asked, walking closer to Pulitzer as he addressed him.
“Because the trolley workers are striking for a fair contract,” he explained calmly, removing his spectacles from his face and studying them. “The Newsies are striking against…me.” He tucked the lenses into his vest pocket, focusing his attention on the mayor.
“Well, I’d spare you the embarrassment if I could, but Medda Larkin’s Theater, the Burlesque House, is private property,” he responded matter of factly.
“He can’t order a raid without legal cause,” Mr. Bunsen chipped in, holding his ledger book close to his chest. Katherine felt herself sink into the chair a little more, realizing she was in the middle of a conversation regarding the very rally she had just been optimistic about. Of course, he already knows about it, she thought to herself.
“Mr. Mayor, would the fact that this rally is organized by an escaped convict be enough to shut it down?” Pulitzer tried, stepping up to the mayor, who shot him an inquisitive look, though he stood his ground.
“An escaped convict?” His tone seemed to imply that he didn’t believe Pulitzer’s assertion.
“A fugitive from one of your own institutions” Pulitzer emphasized, pressing the folded-up newspaper against the mayor’s chest in a pointed manner. He started walking back to his desk, everyone shuffling on their feet to follow in his direction. Even Katherine unknowingly shifted her posture toward him, her curious nature peaked. “A convicted thief, at large, reeking mischief on our law-abiding community.” With a twirl, Pulitzer spun his desk chair around to reveal Mr. Snyder as he dropped the newspaper down on the desk. Katherine felt a sinking pit in her stomach. “Mr. Snyder, which one is he?” Pulitzer turned away as Snyder immediately leaned forward and pointed at the picture on the front page, her picture from her story.
“That is him, there.” He stood up and handed the mayor the paper. “Jack Kelly.” Katherine felt her heart stop, slight panic settling in as she tried to absorb the conversation without giving anything away.
“And how do you know this boy?” the mayor asked, taking the newspaper but not minding the picture, simply listening to Snyder speak. 
“His is not a pleasant story. He was the first sentenced to my Refuge for loitering and vagrancy,” he explained, the mayor taking a step back to finally look at the paper. Katherine’s eyes were fixed on his, watching him study Jack with anxiety crawling up her throat. “But his total disregard for authority has made him a frequent visitor.”
“You called him a thief,” the mayor punctuated, lowering the paper before turning to face Snyder once more, “and escaped convict.”
“After his release, I caught him myself, red-handed,” Snyder replied animantly, walking around the desk towards the mayor as Pulitzer took his place, “trafficking stolen food and clothing. He was last sentenced to six months, but the willful ruffian escaped.” Katherine’s eyebrows furrowed. Trafficking food and clothing? As in bringing them into The Refuge? But The Refuge is a government facility. Those children are supposed to be cared for…unless- her thoughts were interrupted by Pulitzer’s voice. 
“So, you’d be doing the city a service, removing this criminal from our streets.” Her eyes darted between the newspaper tycoon and the mayor for a moment.
“If that’s the case,” the mayor responded, emphasizing the if, “we can take him in.” She froze. Jack going back to The Refuge? “Quietly-” No, they can’t, her thoughts voiced at the same time. Her heart skipped a beat with the sudden slamming of Pulitzer’s hands against his desk, grabbing everyone’s attention and silencing her mind.
“What good would quiet do me!” He yelled, an eerie silence filling the room as he stalked around his desk, eyes directly on the mayor. “I want a public example made of him,” he said in a cold steely tone. Just as Kathrine started to catch her breath, Hannah, Pulitzer’s secretary, came rushing in, her breathing slightly erratic.
“Mr. Pulitzer- the boy, Jack Kelly, is here.” Katherine’s eyes went wide, and she immediately launched herself to her feet, fear racing through every inch of her body. What?
“He’s-” she started to whisper, only to be cut off by Pulitzer himself.
“Here?” he asked, sounding quite amused. 
“Just outside. He’s asked to see you,” Hannah added, uncertainty written on her face. Pulitzer started to laugh gleefully, a sound that made Katherine’s skin grow cold. That’s a sadistic laugh, even from him. 
“Ask and ye shall be received.” He quickly whirled around and directed everyone into their places. “Mr. Snyder, if you please.” Snyder clapped his hands with excitement as Pulitzer gestured to Mr. Bunsen over with him. Katherine’s head was swirling with thoughts and anxiety. Run, Katherine. You need to warn him or he’s going to walk into a trap, she said to herself mentally. Just as she made to move, Pulitzer put a hand on her shoulder, suddenly beside her and giving her a passing but icy glare. “Sit,” he commanded with a quiet snarl. Despite herself, she did as she was told, holding tightly to the armrests as he quickly spun her chair to face the wall. She let out a small gasp, garnering his warning glare once more before she heard footsteps enter, pulling his attention away. Her pulse was thrumming in her ears, understanding the look he had just thrown her: behave or else.
“Mr. Jack Kelly,” Hannah announced. The footsteps paced leisurely, and her chest tightened.
“Hey. Good afternoon, boys,” Katherine heard him say, his voice as cocky and confident as ever. It made her flinch, despite how easily it also almost made her heart skip a beat. We just got him back to his usual self. There has to be some way to warn him.
“And which Jack Kelly is this?” Pulitzer stepped away from the chair as she heard a small whistle, clearly coming from her favorite Newsie as she imagined he was taking in the office. “The charismatic union organizer, or the petty thief and escaped convict?”
“Which one gives us more in common? Huh?” She wished his witty comment had made her feel better, but she held onto the arm rests tighter, her brain firing a million miles a minute. The more Jack taunts him, the more likely he is to carry on the act, which buys us time. But he also doesn’t mind the theatrics of it. He still holds all the cards and time may not do us any good.
“Impudence is in bad taste when crawling for mercy.” There was a pause. Jack, don’t take the bait.
“Crawlin’?” Jack let out a chuckle. She nearly huffed out a breath before noticing Pulitzer’s staffer Mr. Seitz standing close by, subtly watching her. She bit her lip instead. “That’s a laugh. No. No, I just dropped by with an invite. No, it seems a, uh, few hundred of your employees are rallyin’ to discuss some, uh, recent disagreements. Now, I thought it only fair to invite you to state your case straight to the fellas. Huh? So what'dya say, Joe? Want I should save you a spot on the bill?” Leave it to Jack to walk into the lion's den just to gloat, she huffed mentally.
“You are as shameless and disrespectful a creature as I was told. Did you know what I was doing when I was your age, boy?” Pulitzer said, emphasizing the word ‘boy’ to get under his skin. “I was fighting in a war.” 
“Oh, yeah, how’d that turn out for ya?” Jack didn’t seem to skip a beat with his commentary as Katherine tried to casually look around. Damned chair, I can’t see any of the doors from here…
“It taught me a lesson that shaped my life. You don’t win a war on the battlefield. It’s the   headline that crowns the victor.”
“Well, I will keep that in mind when New York wakes up to front-page photos of our rally.” She tried not to smirk at his confidence.
“Oh, 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.” There was a pause. Right, Pulitzer put out a ban on strike material. How were we going to spread the success of the rally, she distractedly contemplated.
“You may run this city, but there are some of us who can’t be bullied. Even some reporters,” he growled lightly. Her brain stopped for a moment as she bit her lip to hide her full-blown smile. Oh…he’s talking about me… she thought to herself for a moment before feeling the upholstery under her hand and remembering the circumstances. Focus on that later. For now, get back to looking for an escape. 
“Ah. Such as that young woman who made you yesterday’s news?” She froze in place. Forget the escape. Why is he talking about me? Where is he going with this? She could hear footsteps approaching the desk. Pulitzer was, no doubt, setting up for something.  “Talented girl.” She heard him tap on the newspaper and realization struck. This is part of the set up. He meant for this to happen. He wanted Jack to- “And beautiful as well, don’t you think?” Jack was oblivious to all of it as she tried to look for a way out without moving the chair and drawing attention to herself, her hands wringing anxiously.
“Yeah. I’ll tell her you said so,” Jack said in a scoffing manner, turning to leave.
“No need,” Pulitzer said with a smirk. She felt like her heart might give out from how hard it was pounding now as she turned her gaze to him. Her eyes widened when she saw him nod, clearly enjoying the panic in her eyes. Please, don’t do this, she begged silently. “She can hear for herself.” She flinched as he threw down the paper on the desk, not breaking eye contact with her as he made her presence known. “Can’t you, darling?” She stared at him wordlessly before she saw his finger wag. The signal was clear. Get up. With a shaky breath, she rose to her feet in defeat and slowly turned around. Jack’s back was to her, but his head was turning in her direction after seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye. “I trust you know my daughter,” Pulitzer said as her eyes started to mist, “Katherine.” He spat out her name with such venom, but she knew it wasn’t aimed at her. It was aimed at Jack. All of this was to hurt Jack. Congratulations, Katherine. You played the part perfectly, a voice in her head hissed. “Yes,” Pulitzer sang out, clearly enjoying how distraught the infamous Jack Kelly had become, her eyes never leaving his. She could see storms of emotion crashing in his eyes: disbelief, hurt, betrayal, grief. Tears welled up in her own eyes, unable to tear herself from tortured his gaze. “My daughter.” Her father sat at his desk as Jack tried to take a few steps toward her, and away from the door, his only exit. No, Jack you need to run, she screamed in her head, but she couldn’t even bring herself to say a word, much less move her legs as she stood there frozen by sheer panic. This is bad. This is very bad. “You are probably asking, why the nom de plume, and why doesn’t my daughter work for me?” Hearing her father’s gloating tone, she hesitantly glanced in his direction, distraught by how content he sounded with himself. “Good questions.” He clearly didn’t care about her opinion of him as he settled back comfortably into his chair. “I offered Katherine a life of wealth and leisure. Instead, she chose to pursue a career.” She swallowed the bile in her throat as she looked at Jack again, her eyes shining with tears. And guilt. “And she was showing real promise until-” She jumped and flinched at the sound of him slamming his hand against the desk and dragging the newspaper across the wood. “This…recent…lapse,” he said, pausing with each word. Get a grip, Katherine. You have to do something. “But you’re done with all of that now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” An opening. This is an opening to speak. Say something. Warn him!
“Jack, I didn’t mean to-” she tried to explain herself as she took a step towards him, but he was quick to step back, breaking eye contact from her as he held out a hand telling her to stay in her place. You did that to him, Katherine. Now he won’t listen to you. She could see the way he was taking uneven breaths and staring at the ground to keep it together. A part of her broke seeing him like this. 
“Don’t trouble the boy with your problems, dearest,” Pulitzer chimed in, a small smile on his face. “Mr. Kelly has a plateful of his own.” Despite her distraught emotions, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Oh no. Jack, run.
“Jack-” she whimpered, his name just barely falling from her lips as her father cut off her warning.
“Wouldn’t you say so-” No time for warnings.
“Run!” a hiss ripped through her throat as she gripped onto the chair tightly to stop herself from running at him. His eyes just barely flashed up to meet hers as her father uttered the end of his sentence to snap the door on the trap. 
“Mr. Snyder?” There was a pause as Jack’s eyes widened, staring at Katherine. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore, but the shadow of a figure coming out from behind Pulitzer’s desk made his eyes stray from her and believe her words. 
“Hello, Jack,” he snarled. Jack immediately tried to make a run for it, but Katherine could see the Delancey brothers right behind him, ready to restrain him. She went to throw herself away from the chair to help him, but a hand landed on her shoulder. Mr. Seitz squeezed her shoulder to remind her that they were outnumbered. They had been the entire time. This was the plan from the moment Jack arrived. They beat us. She covered her mouth and grabbed hold of the chair once more, letting the wood brush against her skin as she watched Jack struggle. This isn't a fight we win, Jack. I’m so sorry. 
“Does anyone else feel a noose tightening? Hmm?” The Delancey brothers threw Jack forward. Looking back at them, he realized just how trapped he was, and Katherine watched his back as he struggled to even his breathing. 
“But allow me to offer an alternate scenario,” her father announced from his throne. “You attend the rally and speak against this hopeless strike.” Katherine dropped the hand covering her mouth to her side, biting her lip and squeezing the chair tighter. So, an ultimatum. “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,” he paused for emphasis, her hand slacking and dropping from the chair in surprise. How did he- “To New Mexico, and beyond.” Pulitzer then turned his head to his daughter, giving her a sickly-sweet smile as she shook her head in disbelief. “You did say he wanted to travel west, didn’t you?” She let out a bitter chuckle, knowing that he was implying that she fed him information. Of course, he knows about Santa Fe too. She crossed her arms and covered her mouth with one hand, some tears leaking from her eyes. She wanted to say something, say anything, but she knew the second she opened her mouth, it wouldn’t be words coming out as her nausea continued to brew. She hesitantly looked at Jack, his eyes burning into her. I didn’t sell you out, Jack. Please know that I would never do it, she tried to convey through her eyes.
“There ain’t a person in this room who don’t know you stink,” he growled. He meant it towards her father, but she knew that some part of him meant it for her too. He held her eyes with his, anger and hurt swirling in them. The moment was broken though as Pulitzer stood from his seat, demanding attention.
“And if they know me, they know I don’t care.” he responded, making his way around his desk. He stopped to lean against the desk instead, clearly confident in the circumstances. “Mark my words, boy. Defy me, and I will have you and every one of your friends locked up in The Refuge.” Jack stood tall, defiance in his stance. But she’d come to know him well enough to recognize the slight tremble in his fingers before he balled them into fists. He’s scared. But if the Refuge is as awful as it sounds, surely my father wouldn't sentence dozens of children to such a fate...would he, Katherine tried to reassure herself, though she wasn't sure anymore. “I know you’re Mr. Tough Guy, but it’s not right to condemn that little crippled boy to conditions like that.” Jack tilted his head, gritting his teeth. Katherine's head felt like it was spinning. He knew about them. He knew about all of them. Of course he did. “And what about your pal, uh…”
“Davey,” Snyder chipped in. The spinning stopped and her body snapped in his direction. Bringing the Newsies into this was bad enough, but Davey and Les?
“Davey. And his baby brother,” Jack stepped back, staring at Katherine in disbelief. She didn’t bother breaking her glaze to meet his though as fire made its way into her eyes. “Ripped from their loving family and tossed to the rats.” Her father started tutting. He’s taking this too far, she growled internally. She could see the way Jack looked away from the corner of her eye, helpless guilt written all over his face. It was enough to send her over the edge. “Will they ever be able to thank you-”
“Enough!” she yelled, her hands shaking with rage. Her father’s cold fury glared at her, daring her to say more. In shock of her explosion, she diverted her eyes to Jack who had slowly turned his head to look at her, his gaze conflicted with emotions. Katherine swallowed the bile that rose up her throat and tried to work up her courage. Enough sitting silently. I need to say something while I’m still brave enough to open my mouth. “You can’t do this.” She broke Jack’s gaze and stared at her father. His glare burned her, but she fought the instinct to recoil and continued, stepping closer to his desk in an attempt to put them on the same level. "This isn't about the strike. This is about your willingness to throw dozens of boys into a prison for something that isn't even illegal. What kind of person does that make you?" Katherine felt her chest light for a moment. That felt good to say. The relief was short lived however as she watched her father step up to her, casting down his infernal glare. The last time she had seen those eyes so close, a hand followed, the memory eliciting a reaction. Everyone in the room could see the way her assertion dimmed into a plea, her body physically shrinking back slightly with each approaching footstep from Pulitzer. “Please. They’re just children,” she whispered, all of the bravery fleeing in an instant. Despite himself, Jack instinctively clenched his jaw at the way she sounded so small and afraid.
“As are you,” he responded coldly. He raised his hand towards her face, causing her to flinch. Jack went to step toward them until he saw Pulitzer's hand simply take her by the chin and force her to meet his eyes. Seeing the fear in them, he scoffed and let her go, turning his back to her and approaching Jack, a twinkle of humor back in his eye. “Time’s running out, kid, so what do you say? Cowboy or convict, I win either way,” he hummed softly, a menacing tone to his voice. Jack's eyes were bouncing back between Pulitzer and Katherine, part of him getting over the fear he had for her as fear for himself settled in once more, remembering the trap he had found himself in, the trap she had a part in springing. Katherine stared at him, once again frozen in place. That did nothing. All of that was for nothing, she scolded herself. “Your abject surrender was always,” he broke into chuckles before sharply delivering the end of his tune, “the bottom line.” Without skipping a beat, he waved over the Delancey brothers. “Gentlemen, escort our guest to the cellar so he might reflect in solitude.” The boys started pushing Jack around just for him to throw up his hands and follow on his own will. Katherine, to her surprise, was quick to follow, her feet trying to keep up with Jack. The Delancey brothers, however, knew she would try to join them and quickly blocked her off.
“Jack,” she shouted breathlessly, trying to make her way past them. When he kept walking without even a glance back, she tried again, more loud and certain. “Jack!” She watched the way he shook his head and she processed the gesture. Oh…it was on purpose. She hurt him and he’s ignoring her. She stopped at the steps of the stairs and tried to hold it together. She was brushed aside as her father followed, leading them to the cellar. In response, she followed, though she knew there was nothing she could do anymore. By the time she had made it to the cellar entrance, her father was already turning to leave with a grin on his face. As soon as he registered her presence however, the quirk of his lip fell and he rather gruffly grabbed her arm and pulled her away. He dragged her back into the office and only released her once the doors had been closed and it was just the two of them. She watched as he went back to his desk silently, rubbing her arm where it had been grasped harshly.
“I called The Sun. You can go retrieve your things in the morning.” She stared at him blankly, hoping she had misheard him.
“...what?” He shook his head and picked up the newspaper once more, lazily glancing over the front page. Her story.
“Come now, darling, you’re smarter than this. I didn’t just blacklist you. I had you terminated. Clearly, journalism is too much pressure on you-”
“You had no right. That article was my best work, my big break-” she argued, stepping forward to be at the foot of his desk.
“The entire story was a hyperbole. There weren’t swarms of children, just a handful of Newsies. And they didn’t storm the gates, the Delanceys opened the gate for them to come in for work. You misguided your readers and gave those boys false hope.” Katherine tried not to let the hurt shine through her eyes as she stood her ground.
“Of course you’re hypercritical of the piece, you have a conflict of interest in all of this, Mr. Pulitzer,” she hissed.
“And so it seems do you, Ms. Plumber.” This time, she can’t hide the shock on her face. “What, you thought I wouldn’t know about that Kelly boy being sweet on you? I’ve been keeping an eye on you for longer than you think. You’ve clearly taken to him far beyond what your writing suggests. Dare I say you found a muse in that riffraff?" How dare he insinuate such things.
“Just because he’s a flirt doesn’t mean my nonpartisan integrity as a journalist is compromised,” she said, straightening her back despite his claim. Jack Kelly is a lot of things: handsome, cocky, witty, brash, charming, and loud, just to name a few. But he is not and has never been a distraction, she told herself.
“Maybe. But you’ve too emotionally grown attached to your subject. Luckily, I stepped in when I did before you considered anything you’ll regret.” Ignoring his implications, she leaned forward on the desk.
“Don’t pretend like this is about me. You’ve refused to so much as look at my way since I decided to pursue journalism.” He looked up from the paper and decided to put it down, waving a hand for her to speak. Finally. “This strike is happening because you up-charged the Newsies and have refused to treat them as anything more than children-”
“They are children-”
“Working class children that work for you. They should be treated as employees.” He scoffed and folded his arms. “The upcharge may not seem like much, but those boys barely have enough to live off of as is. And all of this for what? So you can pocket more money?” He rolled his eyes, agitating her a bit more.
“It’s not about the money, Katherine. It’s about the principle. I need more circulation and we need to cut costs somewhere to make more papers, so the newsies pay more for each paper they sell. The more papers they sell, the more readers I have. The more readers I have, the more people listen to my opinion. The more people listen to my opinion-”
“Then it’s a matter of pride.” Her father’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t stop. “You care more about competing with the other big names of the city and increasing the power of your voice than the livelihood of those children. And when they raise their voices, you want to stomp them to the ground.”
“Those children are gutter rats. Most of them won’t even live to become to adults-”
“No thanks to people like you.”
“I’m teaching them a lesson: the world isn’t fair.” She chuckles dryly. No, The World isn’t.
“You act as though they don’t know that. Those kids have been dealt some of the most unfair hands in life. I don’t understand why you don’t just-”
“Of course you don’t understand. You are still a child learning about the world. I made it so you wouldn’t have to face hardships, but again and again you choose to make life more difficult-”
“Because I want to understand the world!" Katherine snapped. "How am I supposed to learn anything when I’m trapped in a comfortable bubble of wealth and privilege, which I never asked for? I am 17! It’s time for me to go out and work for a living and learn about the world, away from this easy life you keep trying to impose on me!” Her father’s face turned red at her words.
“It's a matter of maturity, not age. Why must you be so difficult? Lucille understood such things and she never had these-these outbursts! She understood the price of this life, that these are benefits she could never gain elsewhere, no matter how much hard work and effort she put in, so she was obedient and grateful. Why couldn’t you be more like your sister?” The air cooled as she stepped away from the desk slowly. He really went there…he really brought her up just to get back at me.
“I know I’m not the daughter you want me to be, and I miss her too, but you don’t have to throw Lucy in my face every time I don’t measure up.” He stared at her and sighed. Instead of apologizing though, he merely picked up the paper once more, keeping his eyes off of her.
“Go home and freshen up. I want you there when Mr. Kelly gives up on this union nonsense tonight.”
“You don’t know if he will-”
“If he’s as much of a hero as you painted him out to be in your article, then I’m positive he will.” She’s silent. He’s right. Jack is the type to bite the bullet, but only for himself. For others, he'd make himself the human shield. And to add money on top of that…he’s getting paid to walk away from all of this, something he’s wanted to do since the beginning…would he? Sensing her uncertainty, he turned around in his chair so that his back was to her. “You should pick out something nice to wear. This will likely be the last time you see Mr. Jack Kelly.” She stared at the upholstery blankly, her emotions too jumbled to sort through. “You’re dismissed,” he emphasized with the crinkling of paper. Without another word, she turned and walked out the door, her eyes prickling with tears. It wasn’t until she had made it down the front steps of The World that a thought occurred to her: Jack. Is he still down in the cellar? Should I go see him? Would he…would he want to see me after everything? Insecurity crept up her spine and she decided to focus on making it to the rally. The only way now is forward. If I’m early enough, maybe I can warn Davey and them about what happened just in case Jack… Her trail of thought sputtered out. She didn’t want to think like that. Jack Kelly was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a sell-out. She knew that.
By the time Katherine made it to the rally at Medda’s, she could see the discussion was in full swing. To her reassurance, they had over triple the numbers of Newsies than what they had been working with. It seemed to be going well with all of the boroughs. She found herself a nice spot to watch Davey speak from behind a group of Newsies from Flushing up on one of the risers. It almost made her smile…until she saw Jack coming around from the backstage area with his jaw set. Oh no… she thought to herself, bringing her thumb up to her lips as she started to bite on her nail.
“You wanna be talked to like an adult? Then start actin’ like one,” Jack grumbled loudly, cutting off the applause Davey had conjured up.
“Jack-” Davey said, catching Jack’s tone and trying to ease him up. Jack however was a man on a mission, so he gave Davey a small push to let him know he was taking over, not once stopping his grumbling
“Don’t just run your mouth. Make some sense.”
“And here’s Jack!” Davey announced with enthusiasm, though his face showed some concern. The Newsies started chanting his name and Katherine could see him fighting himself. Come on, Jack. Do the right thing. These boys need you.
“Alright.” They didn’t stop. “Alright,” he said a little louder, but to no avail. “Alright!” he shouted, finally getting the boys to simmer down. He took a moment to think, his eye catching his artwork on display. Katherine followed his eyes. He could do so much with talent like that…is that what he hopes to do when he goes to Santa Fe? Katherine startled herself out of her thoughts. She didn’t mean to imply that he was leaving. It had always been an ‘if’, not a ‘when’ and something about that realization made her stomach sink. “Pulitzer…raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us, and that was a lousy thing to do.” The Newsies murmured in agreement. “So we got mad and we showed ‘em we ain’t gonna be pushed around. So we go on strike! And then what happens? Well, Pulitzer lowers the price of papes, so’s we’ll go back to work!” More murmurs of agreement came. Katherine felt a little better and pulled her finger away from her lips. Maybe I shouldn’t have doubted him. And then he held his hand up to silence them, a look on his face that brought the pit back to her stomach. “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? Fellas, we gotta be realistic here.” Davey realized where Jack’s going with his line of thinking and walked up to him to try to calm him down. Katherine’s finger was back to her chin, her teeth preoccupied with her nail once more. “If we don’t work, we don’t get paid.” Jack turned around to see Davey standing right beside him, looking at him with concern on his face. “How many days can you go without makin’ money? Huh? Believe me, however long, Pulitzer can go longer.” Suddenly the crowd started vocalizing their confusion.
“What are you saying, Jack?”
“So what do we do, Jack?”
“Oh no…” Katherine mumbled to herself. 
“But I have spoken with Mr. Pulitzer!” She shook her head as the boys quieted down. Jack, don’t… “And he…” Jack was fighting himself to finish, “he has given me his word.” His voice cracked at the end. “If we disband the union-” All hell broke loose with those words. All of the boys started coming down the risers and yelling. Jack was trying to hold firm on his stance, but he was in the thick of everything. Katherine shook her head in disappointment, moving up to the railing to have a better look at the scene below. However, her eyes stopped on a figure on the opposite riser from her. Snyder. So, they made good on their threat after all. She watched as he threw his hand down on the railing in what seemed to be disappointment before he left. Katherine wanted to make sure he was gone for good before letting her eyes fall to the mess on the stage. All these boys don’t even know how close to hell they just were, she thought, her eyes prickling with tears once more. Jack was still being drowned out by the voices of the other Newsies and looked up for some relief just to meet her eyes. He froze in his place as she watched him with misty eyes for a moment before taking off, unable to stomach the scene in front of her anymore. He did it. He took the money, and will no doubt leave as soon as he can. No goodbyes, no apologies, just burned bridges. She walked the streets of New York, her emotions becoming less of despair and more of defiance as she wiped her tears away angrily. No, she thought to herself. This doesn’t end like this. I need to talk to him. I need to… Just then, Katherine remembered something one of the Newsies had told her about: Jack’s penthouse. Picking up her skirt, she hurried over to the fire escape accessible rooftop she had heard about, fully aware that if she didn’t beat him there, she may never see him again.
By the time she made it up to the top of the ladder, she could see she was alone. There were still some things lying around so she took that as a sign that she just might have beat him back. At least, that’s what she had hoped. Taking a moment to catch her breath, the first thing she noticed were the stars above.
“Jack Kelly, the stargazer. The ‘Go West, Young Man’ theme continues,” she whispered to herself. She started pacing the area before noticing rolls of paper in an air vent. Hesitantly, she picked one up and unrolled it, her breath catching in her throat. Is this…Snyder is supposed to take care of them. This…this is unacceptable. She continued to study them until she heard the metal creaking of the ladder. Turning to face the ladder, she continued to fiddle with the drawing, though her eyes were switching between the boy she had been waiting for and his art.
“That was some speech you made,” she said dryly, despite knowing she shouldn’t be too hard on him. He didn’t have much of a choice, really…
“How’d you get here?” he grumbled before he’d even made it up the steps fully.
“Well, Specs showed me.” His eyes found the papers in her hands and he quickly rushed up to her, snatching one of them away quickly.
“What, he say you could go through my stuff?” he snapped at her. She flinched away slightly as he came around behind her and rolled it up.
“I saw them rolled up sticking out of there. I didn’t know what they were,” she defended herself gently, staring at his back as he tried to ignore her. She looked down at the paper still in her hands. “These drawings…these are drawings of The Refuge, aren’t they?” Jack didn’t respond, taking the other drawings and storing them away in a poster tube. Don’t stop, Katherine. This may be your only chance to get some answers. “Is this what it’s really like in there? Three boys to a bed, rats everywhere, and vermin…”
“What, a little different from how you were raised?” he spat out bitterly, snatching the page from her hands. She jumped and looked at him in surprise, but instead of fighting back, her eyes softened. He’s processing a lot. You can’t blame him for being upset after everything, Katherine. He made eye contact with her and held it for a moment before turning his back to her one more time to roll up the paper. 
“...Snyder told my father you were arrested stealing food and clothing. This is why, isn’t it? You stole to feed those boys…” When he kept his back to her, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Jack, I don’t understand,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. He scoffed to himself.
“’s not that surprising,” he mumbled under his breath. Her cheeks went red. Why does everyone keep throwing that back at me today, she thought to herself as she flung her hands up in frustration.
“Then help me understand! If you were willing to go to jail for those boys, how could you turn your back on them now?” That triggered his fight instinct as Jack turned quickly and shoved the tube back into the air vent to face her head on.
“Oh, I do not think you,” he asserted pointily, finger directed at her, “are one to talk about turnin’ on folks!” She took a quick breath to keep her voice level again. 
“I never turned on you, or on anyone else,” she said, but he was quick to refute her.
“Oh, no, you didn’t. You just-just double crossed us to your father. Your father!” he yelled venomously, brushing past her to get to the other side of the railing. Despite herself, she raised her voice and followed him over. 
“Despite how it sounded, I never told my father a thing about any of you. My father and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.” Jack rolled his eyes at her. That little-
“Oh yeah? Then how did he-”
“He has eyes on every corner of this city! He never needed me to spy for him, not that I would even agree to!” She stopped just short of him as he turned to look her in the eyes. He wants to believe. “And to be clear, I never lied.” His gaze shifted to disbelief, making her a bit nervous. “But I didn’t…tell you everything.” He let out a frustrated groan, the hope in his eyes gone again.
“If you weren’t a girl, you’d be trying to talk with a-a fist in your mouth!” He turned to face the railing, leaning against it. Katherine huffed to herself. What a stubborn boy. 
“Look, I told you that I worked for The Sun, and I did. I told you my professional name is Plumber, and it is. You-you never asked my real one,” she said, immediately wincing at her choice of words at the end. Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair. Jack seemed to agree because he whirled around exuding frustration.
“I wouldn’t think I had to unless I knew I was dealing with a backstabber!” She blinked and tried to manage her frustration. Keep your calm, Katherine.
“I already told you, I’m not a backstabber or a liar!” she hissed. Okay, that wasn’t very calm, she told herself, clenching her jaw to fight the desire to yell again. 
“Well, you sure as hell ain’t a fan of the truth, now are you?” She glared at him and felt heat rise up her cheeks. You know what, screw calm!
“Oh, if I was a boy, you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye!” she yelled, raising a fist up at him.
“Oh yeah?” He grabbed her wrist and pulled it under his chin, incidentally pulling her close as well. What is he- “Don’t let that stop you, huh.” He let go of her wrist and leaned forward, ready to accept an uppercut. Jack, you infuriating boy. “Give me your best shot!” He stared her in the eyes. That’s when she saw it. Guilt. He thinks he deserves this. Her breathing was just as erratic as his as she stared at his face. His infuriatingly handsome face. Her eyes flickered down to his lips as he let out puffs of air that tickled her forehead…
…you know what? What the hell. She grabbed onto the base of his neck and pulled him forward, raising herself up on her tiptoes to meet his lips with hers. To her surprise, he was quick to react, grabbing hold of the railing to steady himself and meet her lips. Her hands naturally slid down to hold his face as they melted into the kiss together. After a few moments, they pulled away, foreheads still pressed together. Did I just… Their eyes met and he leaned back in for another kiss. Katherine wanted to stop him but allowed him to pull her in by the waist for a moment to share in another kiss before she felt a thought take over. The deal. She suddenly pushed herself away with a gasp and covered her lips, taking a few steps back. In the following moments, Jack seemed just as frazzled as she was, but she felt the need to say something, unable to stand the silent tension.
“I-I…”  An apology might be a good start. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything. But I know how my father is and I just…I don’t want to be attached to him.” She turned to lean against the railing, a shadow passing over her eyes as she remembered his words. “He’s already made it very clear that I will never be enough to make him proud as a father, so why…” she hesitates with her words. “…why pretend to be someone I’m not?” Jack stared at her, trying to take in her vulnerability. 
“So…you made a fake name to make a name for yourself?” She fought the urge to chuckle. Nice word play, Kelly. 
“I…I guess so.” She hesitantly looked over at him. His eyes were still hazed over slightly from the kiss…es. Plural, Katherine. She shook the thought from her head, fighting off the blush that tried to creep up her cheeks. “I never lied to you about who I was. This is me. This…” she took a deep breath and turned to face him fully. “This is the real me. It’s the only me you’ve known, and it’s the only me there is.” He nodded slowly. She wanted to enjoy the moment, but her thoughts interrupted her once again. Ask him about the money. She shifted on her feet and looked away. “Jack, I…” he stepped a little closer to her, hanging on her words. Swallowing thickly, she looked at him again and hesitantly laid a hand on his chest. “I need to know that I wasn’t wrong about you. I…” his hand wrapped around hers, giving her the strength to continue. “I need to know that you didn’t cave for the money.” He tried to read her face before letting out a sigh and turning to the railing, leaning on it with both hands as her hand slipped out of his grasp.
“No, I-I spoke the truth,” he started, turning to face her. “You win a fight when you got the other fella down eatin’ pavement. Alright, you heard your father. No matter how many days we strike, he ain’t given’ up. I don’t…I don’t know what else we can do,” he whispered, clearly feeling hopeless. She came up beside him and leaned against the railing with him in silence for a moment. There must be something we can do. Another rally, another article, another…wait. She remembered the paper she had stowed away in her pocket when she changed at home, a new piece she had been working on before she had realized she was blacklisted. Maybe it doesn’t end here after all. With a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, she turned to him, her hand in her pocket reaching for the paper.
“Well…I just might have the solution to our problem.” He let out an exhausted groan.
“Oh, come on, Katherine. It’s-” She stopped to shoot him a challenging look.
“Really, Jack, really? Only you can have a good idea?” He drew back a bit, looking at her baffled. “Oh, I know, is it because I’m a girl?” He pointed a finger at her with a defensive look.
“Hey now, I did not say nothin’ about-”
“This would be a good time to shut up,” she cut him off, holding her hand up to silence him. He closed his mouth and tried not to let out a smile at her antics “Being boss doesn’t mean you have all the answers. Just the brains to recognize the right one when you hear it,” she says, pulling out a folded paper from her pocket and waving it in the air for emphasis, a wide smile on her face. Jack silently stared at her before dragging his hand down his face.
“...okay, I’m listening,” he felt the need to announce. She gasped playfully.
“Oh, good for you.” She could practically hear him roll his eyes as she started unfolding the page. “Look, the strike was your idea. The rally was Davey’s. Now my plan will take us to the finish line.” She held the paper up in front of his face. “Deal with it.” He snatched the paper from her hand, trying not to quirk a smile at her spunky attitude. He started looking it over, pacing around her.
“The Children’s Crusade,” he read aloud. Too excited to stop herself, she recited the words herself from memory, hands clasped in front of her.
“'For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughterhouse in New York. I beg you…join us.'” Jack looked at her in shock, pointing at the paper.
“This…”
“With those words, your speech,” she emphasized with excitement. “The strike stopped being just about the Newsies. You challenged our whole generation to stand up and demand a place at the table.” He was silent for a moment, mulling over his words. He didn’t even realize his potential as a leader back then, she smiled to herself.
“The Children’s Crusade…” he repeated in disbelief. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was clear in his eyes every time he looked at her: this girl never stopped amazing him.
“Just think, Jack! If we publish this- my words…” the gears were turning in her head. Pictures sell. “-with one of your drawings!” she squealed, quickly reaching for his art as he stood there, watching her bounce around with hope. “And if every worker under twenty-one read it and stayed home from work…” she tossed him the tube of sketched as she stopped her words, a new thought popping up. Or we could make it a public stand! He shook his head in disbelief. “Or better yet, they came to Newsie Square for a general city-wide strike!” She broke out into giggles, feeling like a mastermind as she took her piece back from Jack and looked it over again as she twirled around. “Even my father couldn’t ignore that.” When Katherine looked at Jack, she could see him hesitating. She stepped over to him, her smile dimming. “What is it?” He sighed, trying to give her a small smile that just couldn’t reach his eyes.
“This is…I mean, it’s great, but…we have one…small problem. We got no way to print it.” She rolled her eyes with a groan. Of course that would be a problem. Stupid ban.
“Well, there has to be one printing press my father doesn’t control.” Jack sighed and leaned against the railing, deep in his thoughts before he paused. 
“Oh no,” he groaned playfully. She quirked her eyebrow, reading the stress melt off his body as a good sign.
“What?” He let out a gruff laugh, fully recognizing the irony of what he was about to propose. The sound reminded her of the Jack Kelly she’d come to know and appreciate, and it brought a smile to her face.
“I know where there’s a printing press no one would ever think we’d use,” he smirked. Leave it to Jack to find a way! she squealed in her head.
“Well, then, why are we still standing here?” she squealed out loud, skipping with excitement towards the fire escape to get to work. He watched her with a smile before feeling the need to rewind and address the elephant in the room, just as her shoulder brushed past his.
“Hey,” he tried gently, but she kept walking. “Hey, wait!” His voice didn’t carry enough as she went to take a step down the ladder. “Stop! Just…” She looked up and froze in place, surprised by his outburst. He looks flustered, she noted. He quickly put his tube of sketches back in the air vent and turned to face her fully, struggling to find his words. “Wha-what is this about for you?” he asked, gesturing between them. Katherine tilted her head in confusion, but she stepped back onto the rooftop to give him her full attention. “And- and I’m not talkin’ about the Children’s Crusade. What’s this about?” he pointed between them once more, emphasizing the word ‘this’ as he did. Her eyebrows furrowed. What is he…does he mean us? She asked herself nervously. “What-am I…am I kiddin’ myself…or is there something…” He sounds so…nervous. I make Jack Kelly nervous? she thought giddily, a small flutter in her chest. 
“You mean…us?” she asked, stepping towards him. He shyly nodded his head, afraid to look away. “I mean, yeah, I like to think there is. We did kiss, so-” she said in a slightly teasing manner, giggling to herself as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 
“Well, don’t say it like this happens every day!” he shouted in a panic, catching her by surprise. Oh, he’s actually wound up about this. She came closer, trying to calm him down.
“Wait, Jack, I didn’t mean-”
“No, no, I’m not an idiot!” he yelled, flustered as he stared at her. “Look, 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.” She stared at him, uncertain of how to react. Part of her felt like she should look away, but she couldn’t, not when he was staring at her with such an intense look in his eye. Hesitantly, Katherine opened her mouth and started fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves to calm her nerves, eyes still on him. Here goes nothing.
“I...I wouldn’t have come after you if there wasn’t something. Not after all that happened today. I just…I couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go without seeing you one more time.” He stood there, trying to find the words to convey his emotions. Please, say something, her heart begged.
“Standing here…tonight, lookin’ at you, I…” He stumbled over his words, but those words were enough to make her heart soar, her hands brushing her skirt and folding behind her back as she bit her lip. “Look, I’m…I’m scared tomorrow’s gonna come and change everythin’. If there was a way I-I could…grab hold of something just to make time stop, so’s I could just…keep on lookin’ at you.” Katherine couldn’t fight the smile on her lips as she watched this boy bare his heart to her under a thousand New York stars. She didn’t even realize she had tears falling from her eyes until she felt one roll down her cheek. Out of instinct, she went to duck her head to wipe it away, but Jack came up to her in an instant. “Hey, hey.” He slotted a finger under her chin and lifted it up so he could see her face. “What is it?” His hands cupped her cheeks, thumb brushing after the stray tear. She laughed softly at his concern.
“No, I just…” She stared up at him. “You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly,” her voice wobbled. “I never even saw it coming.” He pressed his forehead against hers.
“Fo’ sure?” he whispered, his accent thick. She let out a breathy chuckle and nodded.
“Fo’ sure,” she mimicked him softly. He smiled and slowly brought her lips to his, giving her a chance to back away. Not a chance, she smiled to herself, pulling him into the kiss.
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thefreethoughtprojectcom · 2 years ago
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"If Russia invades . . . there will be no longer a Nord Stream 2. We will bring an end to it.” - Joe Biden
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okay but guys why are we completely sleeping on the pure angst potential of the complexities of Katherine and the Pulitzer family???
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ftm-megamind · 1 year ago
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which joseph pulitzer are you today
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((based on those joe biden memes. you know the ones)
[image description: two drawings of joseph pulitzer.
in the first image, joe is turned sideways to the screen, hunched over, a sorrowful look on his face. written in impact font are the words "IT'S JOEVER"; in the second, joe is facing the screen, clenching his fist and screaming. written in impact font are the words "LET'S FUCKING JOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!".
end id]
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wyrmfedgrave · 8 months ago
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Pics: Inspiring HPL.
1. Irvin S. Cobb - American writer, editor, humorist & columnist hailing from Paducah, Kentucky¹.
He was the highest paid staff reporter on the NY World newspaper².
Irvin would write 60+ books & around 300 short stories.
Some of which were adapted into silent movies. And, 2 of his later tales were actually filmed, by the famed John Ford³, during the 1930s!
2. Cobb's "dark side" (horror works) of the otherwise lighthearted comedian & the story in question.
3 & 4. Comedic frontpieces(?) for books by Cobb. The 2nd even boasts an Abraham Lincoln quote!
5. Cover to Cobb's collection of other authors's short horror tales.
6. Inside art from Fishhead's ending...
1913 Addendum -
Intro: Irvin Cobb's infamous short story "Fishhead" is set in the back- wood bayous of the vast Reelfoot Lake⁴.
Plot: The tale concerns the murder of a local outcast freak by "poor whites."
With its surprise Jaws⁵-like ending, this gruesome work reminds readers of an issue of EC comics⁶!
Criticism: Lovecraft lauded Cobb for, "... Carrying on our (own) spectral tradition is the gifted... humorist, I.S. Cobb, whose works... contain some finely (made) weird (tales)."
Of the plot, Howard stated that, "Fish- head" (is) an early achievement, ... banefully effective in its portrayal of (an) unnatural... hybrid idiot & the strange fish of an isolated lake."
Lovecraft further opined, "It is (my firm) belief... that... few short stories of equal merit have been published anywhere (else)..."
Legacy: Cobb's "Fishhead" is seen as a major influence on Lovecraft's own "Shadow Over Innsmouth."
Robert M. Price⁷ noted that, "What (Howard) found revolting was the idea of interracial marriage (&) of different ethnicities mating, (thus) 'polluting' the (white? human?) gene pool."
Fishhead is supposedly "the son of a Negro father & a halfbreed Indian mother." It's never mentioned what her other half was from...
This is the same premise behind HPL's "The Shadow Over Innsmouth."
Except that Lovecraft calls them Deep Ones & has a whole city that's been 'turned'...
More when we get to this story...
Notes:
1. Paducah, as 1 out of 9 U.S. Creative Cities, is a haven for thinkers, artists & creators!
Architectural Digest recognizes this city's historic district as 1 of the most beautiful main streets in America.
There are 20 downtown blocks listed in the National Register of Historic Places!
Weird Shit: Paducah's nickname is "The Atomic City."
This was because it was once the U.S.'s only uranium plant, making atomic bombs for our Defense Department...
2. The NY World newspaper began (in 1860) as a leading voice for the US Democratic Party.
But, once under Joseph Pulitzer, it became a pioneer in "yellow journalism."
Catching readers's attention with sensational (sex, sport & scandal) news stories.
This raised their circulation past the 1 million mark!!
Best known for being among the 1st to publish daily comic strips.
They actually created "Hogan's Alley", "Everyday Movies", "Little Mary Mix- up" & "Joe Jinks!"
Merged with The NY Telegram in 1931.
Revived - online - in 2011 by Columbia U. But, hasn't had any new content since 2016...
3. John Ford was an American movie director who won Oscars for "The Informer", "The Grapes of Wrath", "How Green Was My Valley" & "The Quiet Man."
The best of his many Westerns are "The Searchers", "Stagecoach" & "My Darling Clementine."
4. Reelfoot Lake is a real lake best known for its shallowness - about 5½ feet on average.
It's located in western Tennessee &, strangely enough, no swimming is allowed there...
The lake is named after an 1800's Chickasaw warrior with a deformed leg...
Reelfoot Bayou, with its cypress trees, flows out of the lake to join the Obion River - which runs straight to the Mississippi.
5. "Jaws" is, of course, director Steven Spielberg's 1st international master- piece.
And it doesn't need any hype, from me, for you to see it again!
97% on Rotten Tomatoes!!
Enough said...
Make it so!
6. E.C. Comics was an American publisher specializing in horror, crime, dark fantasy & sci-fi comicbooks.
William Gaines printed mature tales of war, adventure, satire, etc...
Noted for its stories high quality, shock endings & progressive social awareness.
Among the themes that EC creators touched upon are: racial equality, anti- war sentiments, nuclear disarmament & even early environmentalism!
Sadly, official censorship forced EC to focus on its "Mad" magazine - which became it's greatest success!!
EC has just been revived, by Oni Press, on this past February of 2024!!
Good times guaranteed...
7. R.M. Price is an American biblical scholar, author & an authority on H.P. Lovecraft.
His works include: "Deconstructing Jesus", "The Reason Driven Life", "The New Lovecraftian Circle", "World War Cthulhu", "The Disciples of Cthulhu", "Arkham Detective Agency", "The Da Vinci Fraud", "The Apartheid State in Crisis" & more great stuff!!
Price was the editor of the greatly lamented Crypt of Cthulhu, Midnight Shambler & Eldritch Tales fanzines.
He even edited a whole series of Mythos anthologies for Chaosium.
Today, Price is editor of The Journal of Higher Criticism!
Busy little tentacle, ain't he...
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