I'm the Queen of New York!

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Trolley Strike Drags On For Third Week. And this so-called headline drags on for infinity." Pulitzer said as he tossed the newspaper and a magnifying glass down on his desk.

"The news is slow, Mr. Pulitzer. The trolley strike's all we got." a man said.

"Well, that's all Mr William Randolph Hearst has, too, but look at how he covers the strike. Look, look, look!" Pulitzer exclaimed holding up the New York Journal with a headline reading "Nude Corpse On Rails Not Connected To Trolley Strike. Way better than Pulitzer's if you ask me.

"We'll get a new headline writer, sir." the man said.

"We'll steal Hearst's man. Offer him double." Pulitzer suggested.

"That's how he stole him from us. It's not the headlines, chief. These circulation wars are cutting into our profits because you spend as much as you make trying to beat Hearst." Seitz said.

"Then we need to make more profits. You do not penny pinch when you're in a war, Seitz. Victory means everything. Now when I created The World-" Pulitzer was interrupted by us newsies yelling, "Extra! Extra!" down in the streets. "What is that deafening noise?"

"Just the newsies, sir. I'll go and have them quieted." Jonathan said as he started to the door.

"Nevermind the newsies," Pulitzer chuckled. "Where was I?"

"Creating The World, Chief." Seitz said.

"There's lots of money in those streets, gentlemen. I want to know how I can get more of it... by tonight." Pulitzer stated.

-

Down in the crowded streets of New York City, there was a boxing match going on. I believe the fighters were on Round  57, but I wasn't sure. Jack, David, Les, and I were peddling papes around the ring.

"Extra, extra! Trolley Strike Drags On!" David tried.

"Extra! Extra! Ellis Island in flames! Big conflagration!" Jack shouted.

"Wait, what? Where's that story?" David asked.

"Thank you, sir," Jack said.

"Page nine." I told David.

"Thousands flee in panic! Thank you. Much obliged to ya'." Jack continued.

"Terrified flight from inferno! Thousands of lives at stake!" I yelled.

"Trash fire next to immigration building terrifies seagulls?" David read from page nine.

"Extra! Extra!" Jack yelled.

"Extra! Extra!" I cried as Les ran up to us. He had started in the back of the crowd and had worked his way up to the ring where we were. "You start in the back like we told ya'?"

Les nodded.

"Okay, show us again." Jack said.

Les started coughing into his hand, pulled out a pape from his pocket, and said, "Buy me last pape, Mr.?"

I laughed, "It's heartbreaking!"

"Go get 'em!" Jack encouraged.

Once he was gone, David said, "Our father told us not to lie."

"Well, mine told me not to starve so we both got an education." Jack retorted.

"You're just making up things. All these headlines..."

"We don't do nothin' the writers don't do. Anyway, it ain't lyin', it's just improvin' the truth a little." I explained.

The guy who rings the bell that calls the next round for the boxing match rang his bell and an old man held up a little chalkboard with "Round 58" written on it. The crowd booed. A man who looked to be in his 50's was looking around and smiling. This man was Warden Snyder. I personally hate this man. He looked over to the opposite side of the ring and frowned because he saw Jack. He got the attention of a bull (cop) and pointed to him.