A former paperboy reminisces

By Dan Cahoon
Posted Monday, July 23, 2007

 E-mail this page    Printer-friendly page

Moncure, NC - I don't have recent experience with rural driver routes and only a few stories from folks who have had one (many negative, funny stories). I can tell you that daily delivery of any item gets REAL old REAL quick.

I remember the old days when a young boy would get "recruited" by some employee of the circulation department at my local newspaper. The virtues of hard work, easy schedule, and quick cash were extolled until a victim would succumb and become the next "paperboy".

I became just such a lad at a tender age and had my first route by age 14. I couldn't drive then so I used a big steel one speed with side saddle baskets to get the papers there, every morning before 7 a.m. and every afternoon before 5 p.m.

Many mornings were fresh and clear and just the right temperature, but most of the time it was either freezing or wet or drippingly humid. I can remember numerous occurences of near frostbite and chilled wetness when I would crawl back to the wood stove (which was my job to keep hot and full) and hold my stiff blue fingers out to the heat and wince in pain as they slowly thawed. Cold water worked best but the wood stove was just so tempting.

Over the years I added routes to my first one and by the time I quit I had several. By then I used a vehicle and it was just a total drag. I dreaded getting up early and I spent many tired days at school after extreme cold or wetness. You see, people really were dependent upon my services. I brought them their news in a comfortable and convenient manner. Many a cup of coffee has been consumed while scanning the daily rag for information and entertainment.

If I was sick or late or just missed their house for some reason then my mother would get a call while I was out or sick in bed asking "where is my paper?" Most people were fairly kind and understanding but many were cranky and sleepy and totally discombobulated by the fact that their newspaper was not on the doorstep like it was the other 364 days of the year. I actually liked having customers ask for special service like putting their paper in a special spot or placing it "just so". It wasn't just the tips. I also liked the people. I was developing my salesmanship. Sometimes I never got it right.

I still have nightmares of missing houses or waking up and realizing "I forgot to do the paper route!". I can still smell the soy ink
smearing my hands and face like a chimney sweep after every delivery. I remember delivering SUNDAY papers to houses one at a time to dry havens on bitter Christmas mornings or in the snow on a sled. I remember windy Sundays when I would look back up the street to see my hard work billowing out in the wind like giant crazy birds (my mother always got a call about that one). I remember the coppery smell of pennies as I counted out my cash after an afternoon of collections. I remember the game of tracking down deadbeats and finally cutting them off from their papers. Ha Ha! They always came crawling back.

I remember staying up all night just to be there when the papers hit the street so I could go somewhere with my friends for the day. I remember getting sick of it all and turning over my empire of newsprint to the young kid the next street over. I think he did it for one summer and gave it up.

It wasn't easy. It wasn't fun. It gave me hours to think and plan stories, to imagine and dread. It was a golden time.

I can't get the paper I want where I live. They just won't deliver it there. I find I don't need it. My news outlets are more electronic. This chatlist is an important part of my information connection. The Chatham Record is a great newspaper that I happily find available just when I need it.

I miss the comics and the editorial page though. I also miss having around piles of newsprint for art projects and painting, packing and starting fires.

Times they are a changin'.