Tommy and the Guttersnipe

Chapter Eight: Tommy in the Newsroom

Our story so far: After they help the police solve the arson problem, Theodore Roosevelt suggests that Mr. Andrews give Tommy and Baby Jake a better job than just selling papers.

Mr. Andrews smiled. “No, I don’t suppose it is the best use I could be making of them. I suspect these boys could be doing a lot more for me than they have been!” He looked at Tommy, then at Baby Jake. “How old are you, Jake?” he asked, but Baby Jake just shrugged.

“Well, he’s old enough to run copy,” Mr. Roosevelt declared.

“I was thinking more of school,” Mr. Andrews explained. “Can you read and write?” he asked, but Baby Jake just shrugged again, and Mr. Andrews shook his head. “I can’t do much with a boy who can’t read and write.”

Mr. Roosevelt waved away the problem. “Let him work during the day and go to school at night. Lots of these newsboys and bootblacks do that. He’s a bright young man, and Tommy here can help him learn. It wouldn’t hurt Tommy to go get a little more education himself.”

“No, sir, it wouldn’t,” Tommy agreed. “My ma wanted me to stay in school, but we needed the money.”

“Well, there you have it, then!” Mr. Roosevelt said, as if the decision were his to make, and not Mr. Andrews’. “You can work at the Clarion during the day and go to school at night. You’ll feed your family and get educated, too.”

“I have a different plan.” Mr. Andrews said. “Those night schools do a fine job, but they’re not really as effective as the regular schools. How about if you boys go to school during the day, and come by and work for me in the evenings? There’s still plenty of work at a morning paper after school is over.”

“That sounds swell!” Tommy said. “When can we start?”

Mr. Andrews took a watch from his vest pocket and looked at it. “Well, right now I have some meetings to go to. But you finish selling those papers and come see me this afternoon, and we’ll figure something out. You won’t make a lot of money, but it will be more than you make selling papers, how’s that?”

Mr. Roosevelt went back inside to his office and Mr. Andrews walked away down the street towards the Clarion building.

“This is going to be great!” Baby Jake said. “We can sell papers during the day and then work at night! Think how much money we’ll make then!”

Tommy grinned and shook his head. “You don’t know when you have it good, do you, Jake?” he said. “We’re going to school during the day, like Mr. Andrews said. You have to learn to read and write if you want to be anything.”

Baby Jake looked down. “I don’t want to go to school, Shakespeare. Those other kids have already been going. They’ll think I’m dumb.”

“No, they won’t. New kids come into school all the time,” Tommy assured him. “A lot of the kids who come straight from Castle Garden haven’t ever been to school either. Some of them don’t even know English. And I’ll help you, and Ma can help you, and you’ll catch on quick.”

And so Tommy and Jake — nobody called him “Baby Jake” anymore — enrolled in school and spent their evenings working at the Clarion, running copy from the reporters and editors back to the typesetters, and doing other work around the paper.

The fire-starting gang was broken up. Stork was sent to the penitentiary on Blackwell’s Island, and the leaders of the gang went up the river to the bigger prison at SingSing.

Jake had moved into the McMahon household for good now, and then the McMahons moved into a nicer apartment in a nicer neighborhood, since both boys were able to bring home money and Mrs. McMahon had found a new store to sew shirts for.

A few months later, Mr. Andrews called for Tommy to come to his office.

“What do you make of this?” he asked, as Tommy stood before his desk. “We’ve had a letter from a man who is writing to all the newspapers, asking for help. It seems he came home from lumberjacking out west and his family had moved. None of the neighbors could tell him where they had gone.”

Tommy shook his head. “That’s rough, sir. We should help him.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Mr. Andrews said. “I’m going to give the job to you. I’ve been thinking that you would make a good reporter, and this can be your first assignment.”

He paused to pick up the letter on his desk and adjust his glasses to read it better. “Now, he has provided us with a few hints, and an address where we can reach him at a hotel not far from here. He’s looking for his wife, and his son and a small daughter, and I want you to find them for him.”

He handed the letter to Tommy and added a few details. “He says his little daughter’s name is Bridey McMahon, and his son is Thomas, Junior, and they used to live in Brooklyn. See what you can discover ... ”

But Tommy had already grabbed the letter and was running out the door, shouting for Jake to come with him.