When Crutchy was finished, Mrs. Jacobs smiled at him and asked, "Do you want anything else? Another sandwich perhaps?"
"No Ma'm, and thank you very much again," Crutchy answered.
"No problem, I'm glad to help. And please, stop calling me 'Ma'm'"
"Yes Ma'...yes Mrs. Jacobs," Crutchy smiled, then he rose from the table.
"Jack, I guess it is time for us to go." But Mrs. Jacobs would have nothing of this.
"You don't go anywhere in this weather! It's very cold and it's started raining. You stay here overnight."
"But..."
"No 'buts'. I'll go to bed now. Les, you'll sleep by your sister so the boys have more space here. We should really sleep now, it's past three!"
Jack realized Mrs. Jacobs had arranged it so that he, Crutchy and David would be alone and could talk about Crutchy's problems. He was very grateful for that. Les was a sweet boy, but he didn't know much about life yet, and having him around would certainly have made it harder for Crutchy to open up. And though Jack and Sarah were in love, Crutchy knew her hardly well enough to call her a friend, and they certainly were not so close that Crutchy could have talked with her about something as serious as his present problems seemed to be.
Jack could see from the smile on Sarah's face that she understood and appreciated her mother's arrangement. She quickly stood up, told her mother, David and Crutchy goodnight, gave Jack a kiss and withdrew to the small sewing room in which her bed stood, taking Les with her. Mrs. Jacobs nodded at the boys in a friendly manner and wished them to sleep well, then she entered the tiny chamber she shared with her husband.
The boys remained sitting at the table in silence for a while. Then David stood up and went over to the bed he usually shared with Les. He sat down and motioned for his friends to join him. As they were seated comfortably, he began, "Well, Crutchy, of course I'm a bit confused about what's going on, but I want you to know you don't have to explain anything if you don't want to." "Wrong!" Jack said, his voice stern and determined. Upon seeing the shocked expressions on his friends' faces, he continued, "Sorry Crutchy, I didn't mean to shout. But you really have me worried. You don't eat for days, you are ill-tempered, and you refuse to tell me why. I demand an explanation now." He put an arm around Crutchy's shoulders. "Please, understand me. I'm not doing this because I'm curious. I want to help you and I can't if I don't know what's wrong." David jumped to Crutchy's defense, "But Jack, you have no right..." Crutchy raised a hand to stop him. "He has every right, Davey. It's true, I've given him and the others lots of trouble recently, shouting at them and waking them in the middle of the night with my nightmares, and though he didn't know what everything was about Jack didn't get angry, he always was there for me, and he brought me here in the middle of the night to help. He's got every right to know what's going on." His voice was low, but sure. Jack hugged him closer, David held his hand.
"Okay," Crutchy continued, "that won't... that won't be easy."
"It's all right, Crutchy," Jack assured him. "Take your time. We're there for you." David nodded his agreement.
"Well," Crutchy started, unsure, "the person who has given me all this trouble recently is...my father."
"Your father?" Jack asked in surprise. "Thought you were an orphan."
"No, no I'm not, Jack, I'm sorry, really, but...I...I Iied to you." Jack noticed his friend was shaking again. He held him close.
"Hey, that's okay Crutchy, really, that's okay. I'm certainly the last person in the world who has any right to criticize someone for lying about his past! Aren't I, Dave?"
"Yes, you are...Francis," David smiled. Jack laughed out at this and noticed, to his relief, that Crutchy was chuckling, too.
"So, Crutchy, what about your father?"
"It's...a little complicated. I have to start with my childhood."
"Okay."
"We've got time, Crutchy," David assured him. Crutchy thought for a moment, then he began. "My mother died when she gave birth to me. And my father...you know, he'd really loved my mother. And he blamed me for her death. He..." Tears sprang into Crutchy's eyes. "He used to tell me I had murdered my mother, and for a long time, I believed him." Jack and David listened in horror. How could anyone do this to a child? They both moved closer to Crutchy.
"He...he beat me often and shouted at me. Especially when he was drunk. I really tried to do everything he told me to. I did everything to please him, but he always found some fault in what I did and a reason to punish me."
"Didn't anyone notice?" David asked.
"I guess the neighbors knew, but none of them tried to help me," Crutchy answered.
"Compassion is not a very widespread virtue, Dave," Jack added. "Most people prefer to simply mind their own business."
Crutchy continued, "At age six, he sent me to school. He said he wanted to have me out of the house during the day and perhaps I could finally learn to be useful. In the beginning, I could always hide my bruises or find an explanation for them so no one would notice what my Dad did to me. You see, I really believed it was all my fault, back then. But one day, Miss Dallings, a young teacher at my school, saw me trying to bandage a wound on my arm. She got suspicious and talked to me about it. I really tried to protect my father and to keep the abuse a secret, but I couldn't fool her. She came to our place and talked to my father and said it had to stop and she would report him to the police if she ever saw any bruises on me again. My father was very nice and friendly to her, told her he'd never hit me and I'd get these bruises while playing with my friends, but you could see in her eyes that she didn't believe him. When she was gone, he turned around to me. I saw anger and hatred in his eyes like never before. He screamed at me that I was a traitor and a liar and he'd beat me to death for telling my teacher about it. I swore I didn't, I tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen. He beat me up really hard, and then he..."
Crutchy's voice broke. Jack hugged him close.
"You don't have to tell it, just tell us what's wrong today, so we can help. You don't have to talk about such painful memories."
"No...no Jack, I want to. I must tell someone at last!" Crutchy insisted, then he slowly continued "He grabbed me by the neck and held me several feet above the floor, pressing my back against the wall. He was a very strong man, and I was thin and light, so he could do it with one hand. I hung there, nearly unable to breathe, and he started to hit me with his other hand. He knocked me several times. One of his blows hit my knee. The pain was unbelievable. After a while, I passed out. When I woke up, I was lying on the floor, alone. I didn't know where he was, but I was terribly afraid he'd come back and really kill me. So I tried to stand up and run away. My whole body hurt, but I nearly managed to stand up. Until I tried to put weight on my right leg. I collapsed instantly. The pain was unbearable. I had to crawl out of the apartment. I made it out on the street, but then I fainted again. When I awoke, I was in the hospital. They told me a policeman had found me and brought me in. Later that day, two policemen came to ask me questions. Who I was, who had done this to me, that kind of thing. I was too afraid to lie to them, so I told them everything. They promised to contact Miss Dallings. She came to me the same evening and told me the police had arrested my father. I started to cry. I told her it was all my fault, because I had murdered my mother. She looked shocked and confused at first, then she got me to tell her about my mother's death. After I had finished, she explained to me it was not my fault, and she got really furious at my Dad for telling me it was. She told me that my Dad was going to court and that I'd have to testify. I didn't want to at first, but she explained to me again and again I had to so my father could be punished, and that he really deserved to be punished and that the whole thing was not my fault. So I finally promised her I would. I had to stay in the hospital several weeks. Miss Dallings visited me nearly every day. Most of my wounds healed, but my knee didn't. One day, the doctor explained to me that I'd never be able to walk normally again. He said I'd always need a crutch and that they'd give me one and I could always come and get a new one if I outgrew mine. You see, Jack, that's how I became a crip. I wasn't hit by a runaway cart like I told you. I'm sorry."
"Yes, I see. And I understand why you didn't tell me. It's okay, really, stop apologizing." He smiled at Crutchy, but the rage at Crutchy's father and what he'd done to his friend still showed in his eyes.
"David, are you...are you angry?" Crutchy asked, fearfully.
"Of course not. Okay, I usually don't approve of lying, but in that case it's self-protection." He squeezed Crutchy's hand. Crutchy smiled with relief before he continued with his story. "When they released me from the hospital, I was brought to an orphanage. Life wasn't good there at all, there was little food and we had to work a lot, and bad results at school were punished severely. But after the life I'd had before, it seemed like paradise. Miss Dallings still visited me frequently, and it was her who finally made me believe - really believe - that I was not my mother's murderer. After some weeks at the orphanage, my father's trial took place. I was brought there and had to tell the judge everything about how he'd treated me. I was afraid, but everybody told me I'd done the right thing. My father was condemned to seven years in jail. When the sentence was announced, he turned around and shouted at me "I'll get you for this, you little bastard! I swear, I'll kill you for this when I get out of jail!" He was brought away immediately and everybody told me I shouldn't be afraid, he couldn't harm me any longer. Still, it was month before I could finally sleep without nightmares. I lived for several years at the orphanage. But I detested it more and more, especially after Miss Dallings married and moved to Boston, so I had no one who cared for me any more. The nuns were so strict and many of the other children were mean to me. They'd do things like hiding my crutch so I was unable to walk, and they often called me names. When I was eleven, I simply couldn't stand it any longer. One night, I silently snuck out. It was difficult since I couldn't walk without my crutch, but I was pretty skilled at it by then. The hardest part was getting over the fence. First, I had to throw my crutch and the little bundle with my belongings over, then I had to drag myself over with my arms and one leg. I thought I'd never make it, but I did. I started to walk away then. I didn't know where I should go, but I had to put some distance between me and the orphanage before dawn. I wandered around without a place to go, I had no money and nothing to eat. Finally, I couldn't go on. I sad down in an alleyway and started to cry in despair. That's where you found me, Jack." "I remember that. You looked really down and not very healthy, either."
"Davey," Crutchy explained, "Jack took me with him to the Lodging House and suggested I'd become a newsie. He was pretty new at this himself, back then, but already one of the best sellers. The older boys were not sure I could make it, but Jack stood up for me, and they agreed to give me a chance. And that's what I've done ever since." David nodded.
"Okay, Crutchy," Jack inquired, "I take it your father is out of jail now?"
"Yes," Crutchy confirmed. "Some days ago I saw him in the streets. I don't know whether he was actually looking for me or whether it was simply coincidence, but the moment he recognized me he roared with fury and started to run after me, hatred in his eyes. I only managed to escape him because I used a trick Blink once taught me. When a cart hid me from his view for a moment I held on to it and let it carry me past him, then I jumped down and hid in an alley, behind some boxes. I was completely in a panic he might find me, but he didn't. I didn't dare to come out before dark. And since that day..." He stopped, hanging his head in shame.
"Since that day," Jack continued, "you have hid in some alley every morning and didn't dare to come out."
"Yes," Crutchy confessed slowly. "I didn't sell any papers. But I continued to buy some every morning so no one would notice something was wrong. I was so ashamed about the whole affair and I didn't want you to know I'd lied. I couldn't buy any food, because I didn't dare to leave my cover, and I needed to save my money anyway to be able to continue buying papers as long as possible." Jack drew him close.
"Oh Crutchy, my poor friend. I wish you had simply told us. You must have known you'd not be able to keep this up forever."
"I did, but you know, somehow I hoped the problem would resolve itself by just waiting it out" "I'm glad you told us now," David said warmly. "Now we can help you."
"How?" Crutchy asked.
"Err...don't know yet, to be honest. We could stay with you to protect you, I guess, at least till we have a plan."
"I've got a better idea," Jack said. "Crutchy, can you describe your father really precisely? Good enough that one would recognize him on sight?"
"I've got a photo."
"A photo? How'd you get that?"
"When my father came into jail, there was an article in the newspaper about it. With a photo. Miss Dallings brought it to me. She thought it would give me a feeling of safety to see it. Well, I kept it and I still have it."
"That's great! Where is it?"
"Under my mattress."
"May I borrow it?" Crutchy looked puzzled.
"Sure, but why?"
"I've got a plan. Dave, can Crutchy stay here tomorrow?"
"No problem."
"Hey, just a moment, who says I want to hide here?" Crutchy interjected.
"Crutchy, I'm not trying to give you orders, but please be sensible. You've been hiding for days now, and here's a better place than some dark alley. Just give me one day, and I promise I'll take care of your problem. Trust me. Please." Crutchy looked at him for a while, thinking.
"I DO trust you Jack. If you say it has to be...okay, I'll stay here."
"Good. Let's try to get some sleep now. David, in the morning I'll leave early. I've got to go to the Lodging House to get the photo. You go to the circulation office right away. Make sure no one leaves before I'm there."
"Okay," David nodded. The three boys lay down on the bed. Jack still held Crutchy protectively in his arm.
"Crutchy?" David suddenly asked.
"Yeah?"
"What's your real name?"
"James O'Malley. Why?"
"Just wondered. Your father's?"
"The same. I was named after him. Guess it was my mother's last wish. At least that's what he once told me."
"Thank you. Wanted to know who I'm up against. Sleep well. You too, Jack."
"Thanks, you too."
"Night, Davey."
They were all exhausted from the night's events and the lateness of the hour and fell asleep within a minute.

In the morning, Mrs. Jacobs woke the boys.
"Hurry," she said, "you can have the bathroom now. I'm already finished and my husband's still asleep, but Sarah has to get ready soon. I'll wake Les and send him, too."
Though they were still tired, Jack, Crutchy and David rose quickly. The bathroom was tiny, but David explained that the Jacobs had it all for themselves as both other flats on the floor were empty. When Les walked in, he looked so tired the friends simply had to laugh.
"Hey, Les, try not to fall asleep while washing, okay? You might drown!" David joked. Les didn't answer, but made a face. Suddenly Jack remembered something.
"Err, Crutchy?"
"Yes?"
"There's one other thing. If my plan's going to work, I'll need the help of the others. Okay if I tell them about your father? Not the details, of course, just that he hurt you and is threatening you again now, and that we have to stop it?"
"Well...yes, of course," Crutchy replied, sounding unsure.
"Crutchy," David said, "no one will blame you for lying. I'm sure many of them have similar secrets, so don't worry."
"Okay, but still...I should have told them the truth right away. They're my friends."
"What truth?" Les interrupted. "What's wrong, Crutchy?"
"I'll tell you later, Les," David hurried to help Crutchy, who smiled at him gratefully. Jack could see it was still very difficult for him to deal with the memories.
When they all were washed and dressed, they had breakfast with Sarah and Mrs. Jacobs. Jack was glad to notice that Crutchy looked a bit stronger and already had some color back. After breakfast, Jack thanked Mrs. Jacobs once more for her help and for her readiness to allow Crutchy to stay for the day. She just smiled and told him it was no problem, still not asking any questions. Jack told everyone goodbye, kissing Sarah and hugging Crutchy.
"Remember, Dave," he said before he finally left, "No one leaves Newsies Square before I'm there." David just nodded.

When Jack arrived at the Lodging House, all the other boys had left already. Jack went to Crutchy's bunk and lifted the mattress. He saw some money, a few clothes and an envelope. Inside it, he found Denton's cover story about the strike and another newspaper article, with the picture of a man in his mid-forties, curly dark hair and an angered expression. He read it quickly, but it only told a shorter version of what he already knew from Crutchy, and the worst details were left out, so he guessed it would be all right for Crutchy if the other newsies read it. He took it with him and ran to the circulation office.

When he finally reached Newsies Square, he saw David standing on the Horace Greely statue, talking to the others. Upon seeing Jack, the newsies cheered and patted him on the back. "You had us worried sick, Cowboy!" Race said. "We wake up in the morning and both you and Crutchy are gone without telling anyone."
"And now Dave tells us you've spent the night at his place and that we all should wait here till you arrived," Blink added. "What the hell is going on?"
"Quiet, quiet, I'll explain everything," Jack told them while he climbed the statue to stand besides David. "First, has anyone bought my papers for me?"
"I have," David said. "Average headline, I took a hundred."
"Thanks," Jack smiled, handing him fifty cents.
"Okay, guys!" he shouted. "Listen to me, this is important!" The newsies got quiet and looked up at him expectantly. "We've found out what's wrong with Crutchy. His father is threatening him." "His father?" Mush asked. "Didn't he tell us he was an orphan?" He sounded startled.
"Yeah, and I told you my parents were in Santa Fe, so what?" Jack replied, to stop any possible reproaches at once.
Mush shrugged. "Just wondered", he said. Jack nodded.
"Okay, as I said, his father, who used to beat him when he was a child, is back now and threatening him," he continued. The newsies looked worried, but not shocked. Such stories were not new to them.
"I've got a photo of the guy here," Jack went on, waving the article. "I suggest we find the man and...talk to him." He grinned. "I need some volunteers for the team who does the talking," he said. All hands flew up. "Okay, okay, can't take everyone," Jack told them, then he made his choice. "David, Race, Blink, Mush, Boots and myself! We'll sell in Central Park. The rest of you go selling in groups of two or three. I'll show you the photo of the guy we're looking for. If you see him, one of you comes to Central Park as quickly as possible, the other one follows him. No one leaves here before he's memorized the face." Jack handed the article to his friends. Everyone looked at it intensely. It took some time of course till all the newsies had seen it, but no one tried to leave before.
When Jack had the photo back and most of his friends had spread to sell their papers and look for Crutchy's father, he and the newsies he had selected for the "talking team" went to Central Park.
"Where's Les?" Jack asked David, noticing the little boy was not with them. "I told Specs to look after him. I didn't want him in this."
"Good idea, might get a bit rough."
"Jack, what do you actually plan to do with the man? You know, I don't think soaking him is such a good idea, It would most probably only make him angrier."
"Wait and see, Dave. I've got a really good plan, and we might even make it without soaking him, if he's reasonable."
"Let's hope he is," David said. "No...," he continued, suddenly grinning. "Come to think of it, let's hope he isn't!" Jack laughed.
"Yeah, I'd prefer to soak him good, too, but my plan will work fine either way!" They reached Central Park and spread out, hawking the headlines.

Crutchy was sitting on David's bed, looking out of the window. He was alone. Mrs. Jacobs had gone to deliver the laces she and Sarah had made to the factory, Sarah was at the market to buy some vegetables, and Mr. Jacobs was still sleeping. Crutchy was worried. He wondered what Jack was planning. He knew that Jack usually knew what he was doing, but he also knew his father was a dangerous man.
'Oh please, don't let any of my friends be harmed because of me!' he prayed. 'I couldn't take it.' He heard a noise and looked around. The door to the bedchamber was open, and a man was standing there, looking surprised.
"Who are you?" he asked.
Crutchy stood up quickly "I'm Crutchy, a friend of Jack and David," he answered. "I see, and what are you doing here?" the man asked, sounding confused.
"I've got some problems and Mrs. Jacobs was kind enough to allow me to stay here while Jack is taking care of them. You are Mr. Jacobs, I suppose?"
"Yes," the man answered and smiled at him. "Nice to meet you." He shook his hand. "Well, Crutchy, make yourself comfortable." With these words, he sat down at the table and started to read some letters his wife had placed there. Crutchy smiled.
"Thank you, Sir," he said and went back to his place on the bed. For a while they both sat in silence, Crutchy watching the street through the window again.
Suddenly he heard the sound of muffled sobbing. He turned around and saw that Mr. Jacobs held his head in his hands and was crying. Crutchy slowly stood up and walked over to him. "Sir?", he asked, sitting down at the table. "What's wrong? Can I help you in any way?" Mr. Jacobs looked up at him, obviously ashamed of his tears.
"No, you can't. No one can." Looking at Crutchy's sympathetic expression, he seemed to feel compelled to explain. He waved at the letters.
"Most of those are bills. My wife and children will have to pay them. And I can't do anything, anything at all, to help them." His voice was thick with despair. Crutchy looked puzzled.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a crip, a damned, worthless crip," Mr. Jacobs sobbed. Crutchy held his breath, then he slowly spoke.
"Sir, that's not true. You may be a crip, okay, so am I. But I'm certainly by no means worthless, and neither are you." Mr. Jacobs looked up again, obviously noticing the crutch for the first time. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, but that's different. You're a newsie, aren't you?"
Crutchy nodded. "You see? So you ARE doing something useful, looking after yourself, you're not simply a burden to those you love!"
'Well, I fear lately I've been pretty much of a burden,' Crutchy thought ruefully. Aloud he said, "But Sir, you can do the same. I don't suggest you become a newsie, but you can find something useful to do!"
"How?" Mr. Jacobs asked, his voice still hopeless.
"Well," Crutchy smiled, "first thing is: you have to accept your limitations. You see, me for example: I can't go selling in the rich quarters of New York were all the pretty mansions are. You can get lots of tips there, but it requires a lot of walking, because these places are not very crowded, and I know I'm not up to it. So I do what I can do, that is, I find a busy spot, like Central Park for example, where I can simply stand around all day and let the buyers come to me." Mr. Jacobs still looked confused.
"And?"
"That's how you should approach the problem, too, Sir," Crutchy explained. "What is it you can't do?"
"Find a job!" Mr. Jacobs snapped back, sounding annoyed. "I've asked everywhere, believe me, boy, but no one wants a crip." Crutchy didn't flinch at Mr. Jacobs' outbreak. He understood the man was down with his nerves. He kept smiling and said in a friendly way, "But your wife, she does work, doesn't she?"
"Yes, for God's sake, she does! She and Sarah are making laces and selling them to a factory. They sometimes work till late in the night, and apart from that, they have to do all the housework! And I'm just sitting around here, useless, doing nothing!" Crutchy smiled.
"Well, don't you think that's the solution?" he asked.
"What?" Mr. Jacob sounded bemused, obviously having no clue what Crutchy was talking about.
"The housework," Crutchy explained. "You said it yourself - your wife and Sarah have to do all the work for the factory and in the house. If you'd help them with the housework, they'd have more time to make laces and could earn more money, you see?" Mr. Jacobs stared at him, baffled.
"I should do the housework? Boy, don't you think that would be a bit strange? I'm a man!"
"I see that, Sir, but you're also crippled. It's like I said, one has to accept one's limitations. If you can't find a job for yourself, you can either help your wife with hers or simply do nothing at all - It's up to you."
Mr. Jacobs brooded over this for a while, staring at the table before him. Then his face broke into a smile.
"You know what, Crutchy, I believe you are right! I mean, I will go on looking for a real job, of course, but till I find one I could help Esther and Sarah. It's certainly better than nothing, and I'd at least have something to do!" He looked as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders.
"Thank you, Crutchy, thank you so much." He took Crutchy's hand and shook it feverishly. "No problem, Sir, a pleasure to help."
At this moment, the door opened and Mrs. Jacobs came in, carrying the now empty basket she had used for the laces. She smiled at the scene before her.
"I see the both of you get along well?" she said. Before Crutchy could say anything, Mr.Jacobs jumped up , hugged his wife and kissed her. She looked at him in surprise. "Mayer?"
"Darling, Crutchy here has just given me a great idea." Crutchy just sat there as Mr. Jacobs explained himself to his wife, smiling happily that he had been able to help.

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