Standing Straight (Newsies FanFic)

Mattie Swanson/Matty 'Scrub' Carr

Many would say me story started when Jack Kelly came to me and asked (I like to say 'begged' although Kelly would disagree) for me help in the Newsboys Strike. I woulda been pretty disrespected if he didn't because I used ta be as feared as Spot Conlon when we'se were Newsies. I wasn't as fighty as often as he was 'cause I prided meself on me calm leadership, I happened to be the leader of The Bronx Newsies for just about 5 years from when I was 13 ta when I was 17.

Course me Newsies didn't know the real me, I mean the real me bein' a goil. See back in 1899 goil's were either workin' in the factory or jus' at home. Now see I didn't wanna do either. I wanna somethin' bigger, I needed something bigger than what everyone wanted me to settle wid.

Me name's Mattie Swanson. Me dad was a Scouse from Liddypool, Swanson was his last name, and me mum was born and raised in The Bronx. When pa was 40 he married ma when shes was 20. He wanted a son, he got me and convinced ma ta give me up, leave me near The Bronx river hoping I'd die probably. I don't remember much 'bout them I know me pa was a mean fucking drunk.

I was found by a wonderful woman, Harriet Carr her name was. She raised me till I was 8, she died of pneumonia. She wasn't old, she wasn't beautiful but fuckin' God was she special, special in way that no one is. She wasn't amazingly talented but she was amazingly kind, I've yet to meet anyone who've matched her kindness.

I used to hate bein' a goil, me ma and pa hated me because of it, I almost died because of it, I was pushed around and looked down on 'cause I was a goil and I wanted to not be me in anyway possible but Harriet she taught me to be proud. I was a goil and it wasn't something to be 'shamed of jus' 'cause some fat rich men thought they were betta than ya.

I really should get on with tha story.

Anyway when I was 8 Harriet died, I left the home we bought and lived on the streets. I was dead poor, I had nottin' till one day a year afta Harriet died I found some papes on the ground and I just felt like carrying somethin', pretending somethin' was mine and some folks thought I was a Newsie. Got the first money I held in a year. I had so much dirt on me face and I'd sold me dress Harriet bought me so I was wearing ratty clothes so these folks thought I was some little boy.

Now I ain't sayin' I'm smart but I legged it to The Bronx Newsboys lodging house and begged (for the first and last time in my entire life) ta get hired.

I was.

They asked me name and I said Matty Carr.

They thought for the next 9 years that I was a boy.

Now before you say anything I'd like to say I'm fucking proud to be a goil but the only way I could keep earning money was ta be a boy so I did it.

Life ain't fair and sometimes you gotta put what you stand for on the line for a betta life.

All Newsies got nicknames, it kinda helped us forget what we's had or used to be - If that makes sense - we created new identifies for ourselves. Me nickname was 'Scrub'. The reason being that I always rubbed dirt on my face to hide me feminine lookin' face, it worked and the dirt covered most of me face. When I was 10 the boys started to tease me a bit, wanted me to scrub me face clean and I'd get dangerously anger at 'em and they thought it hilarious so them started yelling 'Scrub' at me when they's saw me and it kinda stuck.

I won't bore you with the day to day happenings on what happened to make me the Newsie leader of The Bronx but when I was 13 I hit that rank and stayed there.

Me boys respected me - well they respected Matty, they followed Matty. They woulda laughed at Mattie, woulda cat-called when I got older, the young ones woulda grown up ta disrespect me and any other goil they met. I could see the looks in them eyes when a goil was 'round, when their rights was mentioned.

Regardless, The Bronx were both the most calm and one of the most feared parts 'a New York, feared slightly less than Brooklyn but Bronx was close behind.

Spot and I was famous 'round New York before anyone ever heard of the name 'Jack Kelly'. Spot was feared, he made people nervous because it was certain he'd try to kill you if you weren't from Brooklyn and you tired to speak to him. Me? I was feared because people never knew when I would blow but when I did no one wanted to be 'round me. I'll be the first to admit I had anger problems.

Jack Kelly did beg me to help him and his little band of misfits.

Kelly dragged me into a strike I didn't need and never wanted. Fuck I can't tell you how many scars I got from the Delanceys, how many bruises that took months to heal 'cause of Pulitzer's goons and If i evva got a the chance to go back to that moment where Jack came to me that day I mighta walked away, mighta laughed in his face louder, punched him a little harder but I can't and I'm a little bit grateful for that 'cause I woulda been too scared to chase after the things i got afta Jack came to me if I had a choice; a second chance.

I'll be the first to tell ya I wasn't kind whens I was young. It's not that I was tough like Spot was I just wasn't kind, I was cruel in some ways. My words hurt more than my fists although I pride meself on bein' able to fight like any man.

I can't tell ya how many scars I've given low life self-entitled high and mighty men in my life.

You'll hear about that in this story, so here it is: my story.

I won't tell ya some modest shit like 'ah I ain't that special' because I fucking was. I overcome some shit in my life and I ain't about to forget that for the sake of modesty or because society hates strong people bein' proud 'a themselves.

Here's my story; from the start to where I am now.

I'll try and not make it too long but hey, it's my story so don't complain.