Post by Specs on Oct 13, 2008 15:57:45 GMT -5
Full Name: Andrew James Schlosberg
Nickname: Specs
Age: 17
History: Andrew was born in a small town three miles north of Chicago to a lower-class family. His father Charles worked in the meatpacking industry, and often suffered lacerations and other, more serious injuries. His work was dangerous and often made him ill, and his hours were long. Andrew's mother Diane was a seamstress, who worked hard and spread herself thin in order to make enough money to make ends meet. She would sit in the bedroom of their apartment from dawn to dusk at her sewing machine. During the early years of his life, Andrew was taken care of by Gladys, the oldest of his two sisters, who was twelve years his senior. Marcy was two years younger than Gladys. Andrew never did go to school; by the time he was old enough to walk he had to help his sisters take care of the house and their father, who would come home with a new injury or illness every week.
When Andrew was eight, he and his family received a telegram: Diane's brother in New York had died. For the burial service (and, in brutal honesty, hoping for an inheritance) the family scrounged enough money to take a train into the city. In New York, the crowds were overwhelming, even compared to Chicago. Little Andrew struggled to keep up with his family, but was soon swallowed by the crowd. He called for his parents and sister, but the noise of a hundred people talking and yelling drowned him out. By the time he reached a street corner and looked around desperately for any sign of his family, he was alone.
He hurried in any direction he could, running toward what he thought was where his family had gone. He couldn't find them, and soon found himself hopelessly lost. Crying now, and more frightened than he ever had been, Andrew continued along the confusing, winding streets, deeper and deeper into the city. Night fell, and he didn't know where else to go. He slept in an alley that night. Meanwhile, his parents had realized he was gone only moments after he had ran out of sight in the wrong direction looking for them. They retraced their steps and looked what seemed like everywhere. They commissioned help from the police, who would do nothing more than proclaim him missing after twenty-four hours. Weeks passed, and the desperate family remained in New York in a cheap hotel. Their money was running low. How long before Charles lost his job? How long before they were left poorer than they had been?
After four weeks, Andrew was assumed dead.
The family tearfully went back to Chicago to try and piece their lives back together again. Andrew never heard from them again after that. For those four weeks he lived on the street, and by chance managed to go undetected, as well as never cross paths with his parents or sisters. He became violently ill in the third week, and once he saw a homeless boy being accepted into a building on Duane Street by a middle-aged man, he decided to try his luck. The building turned out to be the Newsboy Lodging House.
After ten days, Andrew was healthy again. He learned that the boys who lived here sold papers for money, and Andrew thought it might be something he could do. Friends who could read told him what the headlines said, and soon he was able to recognize the words on his own. One of them noticed how he had to hold the newspaper very close to be able to read it. He told Kloppman, who got the boy glasses. Andrew was shocked; he had never realized how poor his vision was. His ecstasy was so great, he went around the lodging house crying out, "Look, look what I have! Now I see better, see? Look, I can read that, see? I got specs now!" In less than two weeks, everyone was calling him Specs.
Specs has lived at the lodging house for nine years. He's aware of where he used to live, but can hardly remember his family. All he can remember is how he was lost, and was never found again. However, he rarely dwells on the past. Thrown at an impressionable age into the jaunty, carefree environment of the lodging house, Specs is like the poster child for the life of a newsie. He is witty, full of comments and jokes that are usually inappropriate for the time and place. He takes great pleasure out of doing embellished impressions of those around him: from Kloppman to Weasel to Racetrack; anyone. He swears like a sailor, and is a regular Casanova when it comes to…well, any type of girl. He's also notorious for not coming back to the lodging house until the early hours of the morning, as well as being one of the least complacent boys when morning comes around.
Nickname: Specs
Age: 17
History: Andrew was born in a small town three miles north of Chicago to a lower-class family. His father Charles worked in the meatpacking industry, and often suffered lacerations and other, more serious injuries. His work was dangerous and often made him ill, and his hours were long. Andrew's mother Diane was a seamstress, who worked hard and spread herself thin in order to make enough money to make ends meet. She would sit in the bedroom of their apartment from dawn to dusk at her sewing machine. During the early years of his life, Andrew was taken care of by Gladys, the oldest of his two sisters, who was twelve years his senior. Marcy was two years younger than Gladys. Andrew never did go to school; by the time he was old enough to walk he had to help his sisters take care of the house and their father, who would come home with a new injury or illness every week.
When Andrew was eight, he and his family received a telegram: Diane's brother in New York had died. For the burial service (and, in brutal honesty, hoping for an inheritance) the family scrounged enough money to take a train into the city. In New York, the crowds were overwhelming, even compared to Chicago. Little Andrew struggled to keep up with his family, but was soon swallowed by the crowd. He called for his parents and sister, but the noise of a hundred people talking and yelling drowned him out. By the time he reached a street corner and looked around desperately for any sign of his family, he was alone.
He hurried in any direction he could, running toward what he thought was where his family had gone. He couldn't find them, and soon found himself hopelessly lost. Crying now, and more frightened than he ever had been, Andrew continued along the confusing, winding streets, deeper and deeper into the city. Night fell, and he didn't know where else to go. He slept in an alley that night. Meanwhile, his parents had realized he was gone only moments after he had ran out of sight in the wrong direction looking for them. They retraced their steps and looked what seemed like everywhere. They commissioned help from the police, who would do nothing more than proclaim him missing after twenty-four hours. Weeks passed, and the desperate family remained in New York in a cheap hotel. Their money was running low. How long before Charles lost his job? How long before they were left poorer than they had been?
After four weeks, Andrew was assumed dead.
The family tearfully went back to Chicago to try and piece their lives back together again. Andrew never heard from them again after that. For those four weeks he lived on the street, and by chance managed to go undetected, as well as never cross paths with his parents or sisters. He became violently ill in the third week, and once he saw a homeless boy being accepted into a building on Duane Street by a middle-aged man, he decided to try his luck. The building turned out to be the Newsboy Lodging House.
After ten days, Andrew was healthy again. He learned that the boys who lived here sold papers for money, and Andrew thought it might be something he could do. Friends who could read told him what the headlines said, and soon he was able to recognize the words on his own. One of them noticed how he had to hold the newspaper very close to be able to read it. He told Kloppman, who got the boy glasses. Andrew was shocked; he had never realized how poor his vision was. His ecstasy was so great, he went around the lodging house crying out, "Look, look what I have! Now I see better, see? Look, I can read that, see? I got specs now!" In less than two weeks, everyone was calling him Specs.
Specs has lived at the lodging house for nine years. He's aware of where he used to live, but can hardly remember his family. All he can remember is how he was lost, and was never found again. However, he rarely dwells on the past. Thrown at an impressionable age into the jaunty, carefree environment of the lodging house, Specs is like the poster child for the life of a newsie. He is witty, full of comments and jokes that are usually inappropriate for the time and place. He takes great pleasure out of doing embellished impressions of those around him: from Kloppman to Weasel to Racetrack; anyone. He swears like a sailor, and is a regular Casanova when it comes to…well, any type of girl. He's also notorious for not coming back to the lodging house until the early hours of the morning, as well as being one of the least complacent boys when morning comes around.
