First I'll be needin' yer full name, honey. It's for my confidential records. Lord knows none o' the girls actually uses 'em.

Margaret Ernestine Maguire. But I ain’t never used that, just Madge.

So what do people actually call ya? An' why?

The girls call me Babyface, on account of my baby face. Eh, really I just looked like a kid when I came here. Still real small. They like to use that ta steal my hat. It ain’t fun.

Age an' birthday? Just estimate if ya ain't sure, hon.

March 18, 1884. Gonna be 16 in a coupla months. And I’m sure.

Now you's gonna give me a physical description. Height, build, hair, eyes, the clothes ya wears--everythin' down to the last freckle, ya hear? *gives you a sober look* If one o' my goils goes missin'...well, it pays to be prepared, I always say.

Main thing is the height. I’m four feet nine inches on the dot, and ain’t grown since age ten, so I ain’t gonna any time soon. Sandy hair, blue eyes, lotsa freckles. LOTSA freckles. Genr’ally I wear what I can find- this shirt here is a boy’s shirt I stole off a clothesline. Lookin’ for a decent girl’s one though. Got two skirts- one light blue, one black ‘n grey checks. Brown boots, grey stockings that I think used ta be white. Then this brown hat, ‘a course, prized possession. Used ta be my brother’s.

I know you'll be sellin' papes, but are ya doin' any odder kinda work? If so, I gotta know about it. *gives you a sharp look* Yes, even that.

*blank stare * OH! That. No. I ain’t- ugh. No. Nothin’ else.

What's yer personality like, dearie? Sweet, grumpy, shy, outgoin', overly fond o' the boys? *smiles* It's all perfectly fine here in Greenwich Village.

I can kinda be a b- I mean, I ain’t very nice to folks I don’t like. I guess I’m outgoing, I certainly ain’t shy, but I don’t go ‘round tryin’ ta make friends with everyone. Long as I got my friend Blackjack-she’s from Little Italy, she’ll come around sometimes though-and a coupla girls I’m friendly with, I can get by.

Now, most o' the Village is real keen on the arts. Got any special talents I should know about? If ya sing, dance, act, draw, paint, write, or sweep a stage, I guarantee the goils'll find ya some extra work. *winks* You can tell me about any non-artistic talents while you's at it.

I’m pretty good at acting, if I say so myself. Gotta lie ta sell papes sometimes- I can act like a little kid real good. And I’m quite the pickpocket. I mean. Forget it. I can act, awright?

Any ghosts hauntin' ya that I should know about? I don't mean the kind that supposedly haunts the attic--I mean the bad things that follow ya from yer past, or the bad habits ya just can't seem to shake.

Well, I spent a coupla weeks in the Refuge for stealing ‘fore I was a newsie. Ain’t real proud of that. As for bad habits, I smoke like a chimney and swear like a boy.

Who ya know in the area, hon? Friend or foe, I wanna hear about it. An' have ya got any fam'ly left?

Well, I mentioned Blackjack before, from Little Italy. She’s like family. Other ‘n that, no family.

Seein' anyone special, dear? *smiles slyly*

Nah. Don’t really care for that kinda stuff.

Now, last of all, baby, I need ya to tell me why you's here. Where'd ya come from, an' what kinda life did ya have before?

Well, startin’ from the beginning, I was born in a one-room tenement apartment on the Lower East Side. Three years later, my brother Bernard was born. We didn’t got much money, but we got by. Then… then they died. Consumption. All of ‘em, Bernard and our folks, a coupla weeks apart. I was nine. After that I took to the streets, doin’ what I could ta stay alive. Stole, mostly. Picked pockets. I was ten when I went to the Refuge- stopped stealin’ after that. Got out ‘a there and decided ta try sellin’ papes. It was a good pay, so I stayed. Eventually I stopped sleepin’ on the streets, came here, and, well, here we are.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Profile By: Sparks (Liger)

Character Song: Meet Virginia by Train