Dandy Delivers Read online

  Jamie hoped that if he could teach Dandy to sit with one of the rolled-up newspapers in his mouth that this would get more people to stop…and buy a paper. He held the paper in the air and shook it a little. Dandy cocked his head quizzically, wrinkled his forehead, and gave a puzzled woof.

  “It’s like a stick, Dandy. Here, grab it.” Jamie leaned over and offered the paper to Dandy, who backed up in surprise, pulling at his leash.

  Jamie laughed and said, “Don’t be afraid of it. It’s just paper. It won’t hurt you. Now sit.”

  He waved the rolled-up paper again, wondering if he threw it if Dandy would run to pick it up the way he would if it really was a stick. Before testing this theory, it was his turn to back up in surprise as the pup leapt in the air, trying to snatch the paper from him.

  Jamie tried to sound stern as he told Dandy to sit, but it was hard to not laugh out loud at the pink tongue that now stuck out to the side of the terrier’s wide mouth. He said, “All right, if you want it, here it is.” He knelt down and put the paper right in front of Dandy, who snatched it from him and proceeded to shake it viciously, as if it was a dangerous snake he was trying to kill.

  Just then, the doors to the church opened and the crowd of people who left kept Jamie busy selling newspapers, while Dandy systematically chewed the paper he’d snatched from Jamie into shreds.

  “You go on home. I’m sure I can sell these last twenty-five copies if I keep at it the next hour or so,” Ian said, hugging the remaining stack to his chest.

  The lamplighters had already passed along Vallejo, and the gaslights glimmered up Russian Hill in the twilight. They were standing at the corner of Mason and Vallejo, a stiff breeze coming up from the Bay.

  Jamie picked up Dandy and pulled his jacket around the small dog to shield him from the chilly night air. He said, “You should come home with me now. Mother gave me two nickels, so we could ride the cars back home together.”

  “Don’t need your nickel.” Ian picked up a small stone lodged in the wooden planks of the sidewalk and tossed it, watching as it skipped noisily downhill.

  Jamie knew Ian didn’t like taking money from him. But it wasn’t like him to be so snappish about it. He hugged Dandy tighter and said, “Don’t be silly. Besides, I owe you a nickel for the paper Dandy destroyed. Don’t you want to see Kathleen? I know she was hoping you would stop by the boardinghouse on your way home tonight.”

  Ian shrugged.

  “I don’t get it, Ian. What’s so important about selling these last papers? You’re only twenty-five cents in the hole at this point, and maybe you can at sell at least five papers on the horse car on the way home…break even.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t. And neither will Kathleen.”

  “Tell her I had to go straight home. Get ready for school.”

  “Lie to her?”

  Jamie felt Dandy tremble against his chest and realized he’d raised his voice in his shock. He’d noticed before that the pup reacted this way when he knew Jamie was unhappy. Trying not to sound so upset, he went on, saying, “Look, Ian, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to lie for you.”

  “You promised.” Ian glared at him.

  “Not to lie. I said I wouldn’t volunteer that you were turning the money you’re making over to your uncle. But looks to me like something more’s going on.”

  Ian shrugged again and said, “Nothing’s going on. No need to make a big deal of everything. Just thought you’d understand why I didn’t want to get Kathleen all in a bother. But suit yourself. Look, the car’s here. You better get going or it’ll be your mother who’s all in a fuss.”

  Chapter 2

  Monday afternoon, January 3, 1881

  “I’ll be home by five, Mother, and I’ll take Dandy on a long walk before dinner,” Jamie said, giving his mother his schoolbooks. “First day back and Miss Spindle didn’t give us much homework.”

  As usual on a Monday, his mother had walked the four blocks from Girl’s High to his school, Clement Grammar, to accompany him the last few blocks to the boardinghouse. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that this left him open to ridicule by some of the seventh and eighth grade boys. Though, now that he thought about it, since he’d shot up so fast this winter and stood eye-to-eye with most of them, they didn’t make as many nasty comments.

  He wished a few inches was all it took to make him feel brave among the tough newsboys. Didn’t know how Ian took it day after day. Their sneers, sharp elbows, and their sneaky way of tripping a fella so his papers would spill onto the muddy ground, which could mean financial disaster if the papers were damaged enough.

  On the way home last night, he thought about what pressures Ian was under, how every afternoon he had to contend with bullies, struggle to sell all his papers, then deal with his Uncle Frank giving him a hard time if he didn’t make enough money. No wonder he got a bit touchy now and again.

  That’s why he’d wanted to help Ian sell papers for a couple of hours this afternoon. Help him get ahead for the week and tell him not to worry, that he hadn’t told Kathleen anything that would get him in trouble.

  Actually, Jamie thought he’d been awfully clever at avoiding questions from Kathleen all yesterday evening. Fortunately, when he first got home, she wasn’t in the kitchen. In addition, since the other maid, little Tilly, was serving the boarders that night at supper, he didn’t run into Kathleen until right before bedtime. At that point, as he entered the kitchen with Dandy, he announced that Ian and he had sold lots of papers and then rushed out to the backyard to let Dandy do his business. Dawdling around outside until he saw through the window over the sink that she was in deep conversation with Mrs. O’Rourke, he picked Dandy up and hurried right through the kitchen, pretending to talk to his dog and only saying “good night” as he disappeared out of sight up the back stairs.

  He wasn’t so fortunate with his mother. After getting ready for bed, he went over to where she sat at her desk to kiss her good night, and she’d asked straight out what was bothering him.

  Ian often accused him of having a poker face. Said it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Jamie could tell that his friend thought that was a good thing. Probably because Ian’s face was what Jamie’s mother called an “open book.” But it seemed to him that his mother never had trouble reading him, poker face or not, and one of her most important rules was that he be honest with her.

  There was a brief time last year when he’d been sort of angry with his mother. Seemed unfair that he always had to tell her the truth…given how much she’d hidden from him. But Mrs. Dawson, another one of those women who seemed to be able to look right into a fella’s eyes and see what they were thinking, finally sat him down and talked some sense into him. Helped him understand that grown-ups often faced difficult choices, and it wasn’t always clear-cut what the best choice was, so you just had to do your best. And Jamie knew in his heart that his mother had done the best she could in order to protect him.

  So last night he’d been as honest with her as he could, without feeling he was betraying his friend’s trust. He told her he’d had a fight with Ian, but not what the fight was about. And his mother hadn’t asked. Instead, she’d nodded and said that she was sure he would be able to work it out. And she’d agreed to let him go see Ian today, something she’d never let him do on a school night before.

  Made him feel good to know she trusted him.

  So today, he was going to leave Dandy behind and hustle across town to find Ian. The Evening Bulletin started distributing their first edition around four o’clock in the afternoon, and Jamie knew it took Ian well over a half hour to walk to the Bulletin from his school, which was south of Market way down on Eighth Street. He’d told Jamie that there had been one time when his teacher kept him after school and he’d not made it to the offices in time, only getting half of the usual number of copies to sell.

  Most of the newsboys didn’t go to school, so this wasn’t a problem for them. On
the other hand, a lot of them had to make enough money each day to pay for food and lodging for the night and have enough to pay for the next day’s papers. And many of them still ended up sleeping with hungry bellies in back alleys, saloon doorways, or the dark corners of derelict buildings. Especially on days when the news was dull or the weather bad and they couldn’t make enough sales.

  Because his mother had been late coming by school to meet him, Jamie was afraid Ian might have already picked up his papers and gone, since his friend wouldn’t be expecting him this afternoon. Sometimes Ian gave a new street a try, seeing if he could find a corner or a store whose regular newsboy had disappeared. Ian told him this happened a lot…a boy might get sick and end up at St. Mary’s Hospital or one of the littler ones would get scooped up by the Sisters of Mercy and sent to the Catholic orphanage. And it wasn’t that unusual for one of the older boys to get caught doing something illegal. And end up in jail.

  Made sense that a boy who worked hard all day selling papers, only to end up sleeping in a doorway, might see crime as a better alternative. Even jail might be preferable, particularly during the winter when the nights turned cold.

  Without Dandy to slow him down, Jamie was able to make good time after he left his mother at the boardinghouse. He zigzagged up Taylor to Post and then downhill to Montgomery Street. Once he started going up Montgomery towards Clay, he had to slow down because the sidewalks were filled with women who had been shopping at the City of Paris store, lawyers who were returning from court to their offices in the Montgomery Block, and stockbrokers heading back to their offices from the San Francisco Stock Exchange on Pine.

  Up past California Street, he passed by the Women’s Cooperative Printers Union. Peering up at the large windows on the second floor where the WCPU print shop was located, he waved on the off chance that Laura Dawson, Mr. Dawson’s sister and one of the O’Farrell Street boarders, might see him. She worked as a typographer there, when she wasn’t at the University in Berkeley.

  He then picked up speed to make it across Sacramento Street before a gigantic wagon pulled by a straining pair of dray horses made it to the intersection. By the time he got across Clay Street, he could see newsboys gathering at the alley behind the Bulletin offices, waiting for the papers to be distributed.

  As he got to the back of the noisy crowd, he stood on tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of Ian.

  “Well, ain’t you looking the gent today,” a rough voice bellowed in his ear. “Looking for your friend, the professor?”

  A tall boy, who reeked of tobacco and sweat, gave him a shove towards a thin girl dressed in some oversized dirty satin dress, saying, “Sal, here’s one for you. You like them all dandified and sweet smelling, don’t ya?”

  An older and very well-muscled newsboy, whose tattered clothes were in direct contrast to the derby he wore that looked brand new, turned and hooted. “Would you look at that, Spike? Jacket matches his pants. Looks plenty warm too. Tell you what, sport. I’ll trade ya. You give me the jacket and I’ll not give you a whipping. Sounds fair, don’t it, Spike?”

  Jamie realized that this was the first time he’d been among the newsboys when he had on his school clothes. Weekends and over the Christmas vacation, his mother always insisted he wear his oldest pants and jacket when he joined Ian…so it wouldn’t matter if he got newsprint smeared all over them. Patched in a couple of places, jacket cuffs too short and knickerbockers barely covering his knees, his old clothes probably hadn’t stood out to anyone. Today, he’d been stupid enough to wear the new jacket and pants he’d gotten for Christmas to school…pleased to have something that actually fit.

  Stuck out like a new penny.

  He decided to ignore the insults and drift back from the pack, assuming that Ian was further up near the front and he could catch him as he left with his papers. Spike snagged him by the sleeve but then let go and joined the surge forward that signaled that the papers had come.

  In a few minutes, he saw Ian struggle out between the boys still waiting in line, his cap pulled down to his eyebrows and his shoulders hunched defensively as he elbowed his way on to Montgomery.

  As Jamie ran up to him, Ian snarled an epithet then said, “Oh, it’s you. What’re you doing here? Kathleen send you to give me a scolding?”

  Jamie stepped back, offended by both Ian’s language and tone of voice, and he said, “No, she didn’t. But she would’ve washed your mouth out if she heard you. And given your face a good scrubbing as well. And I can’t imagine what she would say if she saw the state of your clothes. Your shirt is filthy. I know your aunt isn’t much of a housekeeper, but didn’t you have anything clean to put on for school today?”

  “What’s it to you?” Ian growled. “My aunt has five kids at home, not counting me, and no servants like Kathleen to work her fingers to the bone to keep your collars clean.”

  Jamie pushed down his desire to point out to Ian that his sister worked hard so she could give that aunt money every week…with the expectation she would take care of Ian properly. But he wasn’t here to fight with his friend.

  Instead, he said, “Look, I’m sorry, that was out of line, and I came because I wanted you to know that I didn’t say anything to your sister. I was also hoping that if I helped you sell papers today, you’d get done early enough to stop by the boardinghouse this evening on the way home to see her.”

  Ian said gruffly, “Thanks for not squealing on me. But if I stop by looking like this, she’ll be off like a shot to give my aunt a piece of her mind. So I don’t think so. But I’ve got to go.”

  “Don’t you want me to help?”

  Ian fussed with the stack of papers he had tucked under his left arm and said, “Nah, you get on home. Dandy needs his walk. ‘Sides, you don’t want to get ink all over those clothes. Then it’d be you that my sister would be scolding.”

  Jamie reached out as about ten of the papers began to slide out from under his friend’s arm and said, “Let me take these. You don’t want them to fall. I’ll be careful.”

  Ian barked, “Leave ‘em be. I’m fine,” and tried to grab them back.

  But he was too late. Jamie saw that the ten papers were the morning’s edition of the Chronicle.

  “What’s going on, Ian? Why do you have some Chronicles to sell?”

  He saw red stain his friend’s cheek, his very ink-stained cheek, and he suddenly knew the truth and cried out, “Ian, you skipped school today to sell morning papers, didn’t you? I know you promised Kathleen faithfully that you wouldn’t let your work interfere with school.”

  “I had too. You know full well that on Saturday I didn’t get to selling papers early enough…because Kathleen wanted me around after everything that had happened to her New Year’s Eve. But that meant I was short for the week. That was the reason I tried to make it up with extra papers yesterday.”

  “Surely your uncle understood why you were short?”

  “No, he didn’t. And it’s worth my life if I don’t get caught up today. Please don’t say anything to Kathleen.” Ian gave Jamie a tentative smile that seemed a pale imitation of his usual whole-hearted grin.

  Jamie looked down at the papers in his hands a moment, then said, “If I help today, and you get caught up, do you promise not to skip school again?”

  Ian frowned and snatched the copies of the Chronicle back from Jamie, saying, “I don’t have time for this. If you really want to help, go home and keep your mouth shut.”

  Stunned, Jamie watched as Ian took off, quickly swallowed up by the swarm of newsboys running in all directions, crying out the headlines.

  Chapter 3

  Saturday, early morning, January 8, 1881

  “Dandy, shush, we don’t want to wake Kathleen.” Jamie put his candle down on the kitchen table and went over to the jar that held the mix of beef jerky and leftover biscuits that was Dandy’s favorite breakfast. He poured some out into one of the two slightly cracked ceramic bowls Mrs. O’Rourke said he could use for his dog, and then
he filled the second bowl with water. Queenie, the old black kitchen cat, looked up at him in surprise from the kitchen rocker next to the oven, which still gave off comforting warmth. The candle light gleamed in her eyes, and then she curled up more tightly so that her tail covered her face, reflecting her general attitude that young boys and bumptious dogs should be ignored.

  Jamie chuckled as he went to the icebox and got a couple of hard-boiled eggs, slipping them into his pocket. The eggs were for Ian. For himself, he took a slice of beef and a couple of chunks of cold potato from the plate of scraps that were destined for today’s soup pot. Pouring out a glass of milk to wash down this improvised meal, he went over to the breadbox to see if there were any dinner rolls left. Finding two that didn’t seem too dried out, he cut each in half and slathered them with butter from the crock that sat in the middle of the kitchen table. He thought a moment about looking in the pantry for some of Mrs. O’Rourke’s homemade jam but decided this would make the rolls too messy to carry in his pocket. Ian would have to be happy to get the eggs and the rolls.

  “Jamie, whatever are you doing up at this hour? It’s three-thirty in the morning.”

  Kathleen, still dressed in a long flannel nightgown, stood in the doorway that led back to her bedroom behind the laundry room. She was holding the kitchen clock to her chest with one hand and a candle in her other, and her dark brown hair was in a long plait snaking down over her shoulder. Jamie looked away, slightly embarrassed to see her in her night things. Dandy, on the other hand, was joyously jumping up and down at her feet.

  She put the clock and candle on the table and leaned down to scoop the dog up in her arms, letting him lick her cheeks briefly before putting him back on the floor. She said, “Are you going to meet up with Ian?”

  “Yes, Miss Kathleen. I thought I would see if I could catch him at the Chronicle offices. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”