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For old time's sake, and with my ONE YEAR anniversary coming up on January 2nd, I'm going to restart (with some changes, of course) the first RP I ever made. AKA my Historical Fic. RP: I need this for ideas for a movie for National History Day at school, which I am doing on the Newsies Strike of 1899.
It brings back good memories! So to all history/theater/films-no-one-except-film-nerds-have-seen-film-nerds/NEWSIES geeks; let's get this thing started!
Like before, I will be giving you options for characters. You can have two, but if you do have two, one must be a boy. Otherwise, your one charrie can be girl or boy. Here they are.
NEWSIE: ages 7-17 years old. Your job is to sell The New York World, a newspaper run by Joseph Pulitzer. Newsies were mainly boys, but I will accept one girl newsie (besides my character, which is the same one from last time except with a different name). Post a nickname that suits your charrie, as well as your charrie's real name.
RICH KID: Age 11-17. Your family knows Mr. Pulitzer, and you can choose to be for or against the Newsies strike.
FACTORY WORKER: Age 9-21. Your life is extremely hard, as you are just a kid, and can't go to school, because you have to work all day. Can be girls or boys.
NEWSPAPER WORKER: Age 19-25. You work by distributing newspapers to the newsies, and to try to shut the strike down. You are against the strike.
NEWSPAPER REPORTER: Ages 21-25. You either work for The World, The Journal, The Times, or The Sun. If you work for The Sun, you can report on strike news.
Here's the charrie sheet:
NAME:
NICKNAME(S):
JOB (of the choices above):
AGE:
PART OF NEW YORK CHARRIE LIVES IN (Manhattan, Queens, the Bronx, the Bowery, Midtown, Harlem, Brooklyn):
CRUSHES:
STRENGTHS:
WEAKNESSES:
BACKGROUND:
POSITION ON THE STRIKE (for or against):
There you have it! Now, for my character.
NAME: Kathleen
NICKNAME(S): "Eagle" "Princess" "Irish"
JOB: Newsie
AGE:15
PART OF NEW YORK CHARRIE LIVES IN: Brooklyn, as she is one of Spot Conlon's newsies.
CRUSHES: She'll wait and see, depending on if any of you chose Newsie crushes.
STRENGTHS: Good fighter, independent, determined, kind, strong-willed, tomboy, talented Newsie.
WEAKNESSES: Good fighter, has a dark past that she tries to hide (and doesn't remember), very handy liar, tomboy, strong-willed.
BACKGROUND: Her parents died when she was six, in mysterious circumstances, leaving her alone on the streets of Brooklyn. She doesn't remember much about her family, only that there was a fire, and they had to have died in that. She's not sure though... (#PlotDevelopmentIdeas) Out on the streets for two years, she was taken to The Refuge, a kids jail, at age eight, for stealing food. She escaped after only a day, because she was so skinny, she sld through the bars on the windows, and climbed down to the streets. She ran away back to her old home by the docks. There, she was taken in by an old friend of the family's, Spot Conlon, who is only a year older then her. They both became newsies, and both her and Spot gained a reputation for being the best newsies in New York.
POSITION ON THE STRIKE: Kathleen is all for the strike, and she was the one who convinced the Brooklyn newsies to help the Manhattan newsies with the strike, after spying on them to see if they had the guts to go through with the strike, and FIGHT!!
So, there you have it! I'm counting on some of you who joined before to join, and I'd like some new people to join. Thanks!
submitted by Brooklyn Newsie
(December 30, 2016 - 10:58 am)
(December 30, 2016 - 10:58 am)
Sure, I would love it if Gui and Maurice were friends! I''l try and post tomorrow, it's kind of late right now.
(January 6, 2017 - 10:50 pm)
Piero~
After Giu and I go in opposite directions, I have to walk through the busiest blocks in Little Italy to get to Lettirere's Glass Factory. People are just starting to set up shop, and as I walk past, they call out, "Ciao, Piero! Buongiorno!" I wave. I've walked this street so many times that they know me by now.
"'Ey, Capodicci!" an old man calls, pausing from his job of sweeping the sidewalk in front of his shop. He's so old, I think he mistakes me for my father. "Do me a favor- if yuh see Mister Mazzi, tell 'im tuh get me my money by tonight. I been waitin' fawh two weeks now!"
He cackles and starts sweeping again. Like Giuseppe, his accent is a strange mix of Brooklyn and Italian. "Will do, sir!" I call out. Then, I continue walking to the factory.
A few other boys are milling around outside, having a quick smoke before we're required to start work. We enjoy the cool air while we can- inside, it feels hotter than 200 degrees, and it's even worse when you have my job- breaking the cooling glass from the end of the blowpipe, right in the blistering heat of the furnace. I sometimes envy my cousin. It would be nice to be able to see the sky.
An man opens the door, and some workers groan and cuss. I'd say these boys have the foulest mouths in all of New York, but there's no way to be sure- I think the textile mill girls could rival us. We trickle in. I resume my spot near the furnace, bracing myself for the heat that's soon to come.
My pop used to have my job, being the "cracker-off" boy. Now, after 30 years of it, he just couldn't stand the heat anymore, and was moved to the packaging area. I guess I'll be the same. Man, that'll be a good day.
We make bottles here. Big bottles, small bottles, blue, green, red. Tall bottles, short bottles, clear, corked, capped. It's the same thing, every day- molding, pouring, blowing, tempering, packaging. Nothing changes.
Giuseppe always talks about going back to Italy. Maybe, someday, I'll go with him.
(January 7, 2017 - 11:29 am)
~Daniela
I rush over to the factory. I'm going to be late! I just know it! Sure enough, when I get there, Mr. Stevenston is waiting-or should I say glowering-by the door. " Ya lazy Polack!" He shouts, shaking a fist at me. "I knew ya'd be trouble! Mabye I should just fire ya just a here an' now!" My eyes widen. I can't get fired! What about Zanna? I need the money, even if it isn't much.
"I beg pardon Mister Stevenston!" I plead. "I- I'll work double hours." He grunts. A sly smile spreads across his face.
"Make it triple an' I'll consider," he barks and then stomps away. I sigh. Why did I hve to sleep in?
(January 7, 2017 - 1:39 pm)
Martyna~ (I'm kind reusing my post on the other one)
On the way to work, a boy stops me in the street for the third time this week. He must be a newsie. "Hey, doll," He flirts, trying to act casual and failing miserably. "Wanna go dancin' tomorrow night?"
"No." I say with a scowl, pushing him out of the way and continuing down the sidewalk. He says something else, but I'm not listening- the only thing that matters is getting to the factory on time. I've always had too left feet, anyway.
I can't believe that boy. Doll? Seriously? I roll my eyes. Why can't he pick on some of those lovesick girls down at the cigar factory? I'm sure they'd be happy to have someone to flirt with. As for me, I don't need a boy in my life, other than my brothers, of course. If that rat stops me one more time, I'll give him what he deserves. A big blow to the nose.
I'm at the factory thirty seconds early, as usual. I can't afford to be late, because with my current family situation, I'm the breadwinner- well, my brothers and I. Mr. Stevenson stands by the door as I come in, nodding curtly as I step inside. When he can't see my anymore, my back turned, I make a face. What a mean, lying, cheating, no-good, dirty rotten-
"Ya lazy Polack!" I hear him shout. Oh no, that could only mean one thing- Daniela's late. Most of us are 'Polacks', technically, but the only one he really calls that is Daniela. I'm not sure why.
I listen to the rest of their conversation, scowling when Mr. Stevenson says, ""Make it triple an' I'll consider." We already work long enough hours- Daniela is a twelve-year-old, for heaven's sake! Sometimes I think we oughta do something.
I take my place in the room, beginning to thread fibers into my machine to create thread. From then on, the thread is used to make cloth, and then shirts and pants and all other types of clothing. I'm sweating already- it is sweltering in here. "Hey, Stumpy!" One girl taunts from the row of looms behind me. I glare at here, even though her words have no impact on me. She thinks her job is hard- try doing it with three fingers on your dominant hand. "Get lost, Molly." I spit.
Then, my machine makes cachunk sound and stops taking the fibers. Great. It's broken, again.
Daniela takes her spot beside me. I whisper, "So, Stevenson's making you work triple hours?"
She nods. I grumble, using language that would get me beaten at home. What a cheater. I hit my machine a couple times, but it stays still, unmoving. I give it a swift kick. Finally, it starts up again, finishing the rest of the thread.
Dear Lord, I pray. Please let today go better than the last.
(January 9, 2017 - 7:37 am)
TOP!!!!
(January 8, 2017 - 5:29 pm)
Abe~
I am awakened by the sound of Mother calling, "Abraham! It's time
for breakfast!" I pull on a fuzzy robe and trot downstairs to our large
dining room. Sometimes it feels like our entire house is too formal to just live in. We should be using it for
something special, not just eating breakfast. When I arrive at the table, I note
the absence of Father, who usually has time to say goodbye to me before going
to distribute today’s paper to the newsies.
I’m not exactly upset, since Mother is
less likely to ask questions about where I’m going or what I’m doing at school.
The truth is, I don’t really like school. It moves too slowly. Plus, I’m not
sure Mother would like my detours on the way to school to catch a bite of bread
from the nearby bakery.
More to come, this is just a sort of introduction.
Also, I hope the formatting works. I copy-pasted it from Microsoft Word.
(January 9, 2017 - 3:27 pm)
~Anelia
Today, I reached the factory 5 minutes early. I don't want to be late again. Boze drogi, that was awful. Poor Daniela has to put up with it all the time, and then work double- or triple- hours. And she is only 12, and a BOBBIN GIRL for heavens sake. Aren't there plenty others to work until Daniela gets here!?! Mr. Stevenson must be the meanest factory owner in all of New York- both the state and the city. I take my place at the loom next to Martyna, and wait for the long work day to start. A few minutes later, I hear Mr. Stevenson's voice. "Ya lazy Polack!" he shouts. Oj! That must be Daniela. I want to shout, "You know what's lazy? That you make us work in here for 13 hours a day, only stopping for 1 30 minute lunch break and one bathroom break,while you just make the machines go faster to speed up AND NEVER DO ANY WORK YOURSELF, you lazy, mean, cruel FRAJER!!!" But of course, I only said that in my head, so I didn't get fired after only 2 months on the job.
~~~~~~~~
13 long hours later, our work day was up. With my leftover penny from last week's pay, I bought a newspaper from a small boy standing on a street corner. Then, I walked back to the shabby tenement I shared with my sister Lucja. When I arrived, I read the newspaper. There was something about the newsies' strike. A plan was forming in my mind. What if we- the textile mill workers- had a strike like the newsies? I sat down to think about it.
(January 9, 2017 - 6:03 pm)
elementgirl18917, the newsies have not (how do I say this? Struck? Gone on strike?).
The newsies have not gone on strike yet. The day after this one is the day when the Manhattan newsies start the strike, and the day after that is when they go to all the newsies throughout the city. The day after that is when Brooklyn joins them. Whoah. I'm even confusing myself.
That means it should be a while before the Newsies strike gets out there, and other working kids join. I'm not saying your post is bad (I like the writing), it''s just I needed to be a little clearer on when the strike is. We need the characters and newsies to get to know each other before we get really into the strike stuff.
(January 10, 2017 - 2:11 pm)
@Brooklyn
Ok, I understand.
Maybe we can somehow switch that post to the next day...?
(January 10, 2017 - 8:13 pm)
OR we could keep that post and ignore the last bit. Because it's very good writing. I just messed up by not making myself clear.
(January 10, 2017 - 9:13 pm)
EVERYONE!!! Please, if you haven't already, WATCH THE MOVIE NEWSIES or look up 'newsies the movie plot' online. It will spoil some stuff for you if you look it up, but it will so helpful to the plot in the long run. I'm only asking this so we can have as much accuracy as we can. Thanks, and TOP!
(January 10, 2017 - 2:13 pm)
(adding on to what Brooklyn said- you can read the newsies script online)
Giuseppe~
"See yuh tomawhrow, Midge!" One of the boys calls as I walk away. I don't turn around to see who it is- the only thing I want to do now is get home. Even if it's infested with rat and roaches.
When I get to Mulberry Street, I take a shortcut through an alley to get to my tenement. The bulding looks like it's about ready to fall over. A few women are hanging up laundry to dry outside, and they wave at me. "Buonasera. Good evening." I say.
Sometimes, my English is a bit rough. I struggle with sounds and words, and in New York, their accents is even harder to understand. I know I'm not alone, though. Thousands of people come here every day.
I unlock the door to our room, which doesn't really need to be locked. What would someone steal? A ripped up mattress? A dirty shirt? Our oil lamp or pot that has nothing in it? I'm always the first one home, because Piero and Uncle work very long hours in the factory, and I sell my papes pretty quickly. So, I'm in charge of dinner.
Piero's the real cook. I think he could be a famous chef back in Italy, but here, we don't have the money for the things he needs to make fancy things like panzanella or cacciatore. I think for a moment, about what I'll make, and decide on ravioli. It's fairly easy to make, and one of my favorites.
I start on the pasta. Piero should be home soon, which is good, because I have a story to tell him involving a butcher, a cartload of coal, and an unfortunate head injury. If only he were a newsie, too. I know he would love being under the sky.
~
An hour later, Uncle Edoardo is home and we eat together. We are too hungry to wait for Piero.
~
Forty minutes after that, Piero is still not home, and my insides begin to tie themselves in knots. He just late, I tell myself. He's just late.
~
An hour after that, the house is still only filled with two people. I wait by the window, while Uncle Edoardo tries to sleep. His eyes are open. Where is my cousin?
~
When the moon is high in the sky, Piero is still gone. He's wandering again- and last time, he got hurt real bad. I have to find him.
(January 11, 2017 - 7:38 am)
This week I have a project due Friday, so I may not be able to post much. Sorry about that!
Abe~
I jog home from school, just to keep strong. It's not much, but I've gotta prove that I'm a real boy.
I don't have any dellusions about being a man.
Not for a while, anyway.
Luckily, it's only 4:00 now, which means I can roam Central Park for a while. I don't like the greenery much, but I admire it for its size. You can go in any direction without seeing buildings. Today I decide to follow a pigeon, just for kicks and to see where it goes. It seems to waddle around for hours, and I walk behind it, over small hills, through dark green forest-ness, and all the way to 88th street, when I step out for a peek around.
I spot a small alley where there seem to be people, or at least lumps. As I step closer, I can see eyes, mouths and noses. They're children! Like me! What are they doing here? They should be at home. The thought reminds me that I, too, should be at home, and Mother must be starting to worry. I turn around and walk briskly in the other direction.
(January 11, 2017 - 4:02 pm)
element girl, I like your use of polish words! Did you learn polish or just translate on google?
~Daniela
Finally, after a long day of work, I go home. If you can call a small bit of allyway with no roof home that is. Zanna sits in a coner, knitting with yarn I wound in a place where the rich people throw their stuff out. She likes to knit because she can 'see' with her fingers. In case you haven't guessed, Zanna is blind. She'll probably never be able to get a job so she stays home. A boy comes to stand near the allyway. Hmm... I don't reconize him. And does he look... Clean?
(January 11, 2017 - 9:24 pm)
A mix of both.
(January 12, 2017 - 7:00 am)