Chapter 5

“Sir, want a newspaper?”

A half-grown boy appeared in front of William, wearing a grimy newsboy cap and carrying an oversized leather satchel slung across his shoulder.

He looked about eleven or twelve. There was a flicker of hope in his eyes as he pulled open the bag to show the papers inside.

These children all worked under various “bosses.” Not the kind that made headlines, but the ones who controlled the newsboys.

Through connections, coercion, or other means, these men tightly controlled the street-level newspaper trade in certain districts. Only their boys could sell papers there. Outsiders were not allowed in. Newsstands were a different matter.

Every morning, they gathered outside the printing houses, loading still-warm newspapers onto handcarts, hauling them back to their “bases,” then distributing them to these half-grown kids and driving them out onto the streets.

Each child had a sales quota, a minimum threshold. Fall short, and they would be beaten or starved. Only by exceeding the quota could they earn the right to eat, and even then, there were no rewards.

The wages had already been claimed by orphanages or impoverished families. What the children worked for was simply a roof over their heads and two meals to keep them alive.

Some might call this hell. But compared to those trapped in even deeper pits of despair, these children might as well have been living in paradise.

William pulled a one-dollar bill from his pocket and picked two papers. Local papers cost fifty cents each. National publications went for a dollar apiece.

The boy thanked him repeatedly, even removing his cap and bowing. To William, one dollar for two newspapers was just a routine expense. To the boy, it was the kind of redemption he chased every single day.

The boy turned to leave, but William called him back.