DELIVERING "THE CITIZEN" - Part IV

Delivering The Citizen – Part IV

Just a Few More Stories

One thing that I’m sure my six brothers and I can agree on is that the Hollywood version of the suburban newspaper boy is a myth. In the movies a young boy rides his bike on a warm summer afternoon, happily tossing newspapers to houses along the way. Nothing could be further from the truth. There is absolutely no way you can ride a bike and manage a bulky canvas bag filled with over 100 newspapers. And, for that matter, there is no basket that can be attached to a bike to serve the same purpose.  I know it can’t be done because I tried: once, and only once. With the unwieldy bag full of papers, and subscribers houses only 30 or 40 feet apart, the day I tried was spent like any other day lugging a huge bundle of papers, but also walking my bike instead of riding it. I suppose I was able to ride for the last 10 or 20 deliveries, but it definitely was not worth it.

On the other hand, one essential skill that made the delivering it easier was “folding“ the paper. Most days, when the paper was anywhere from 20 to 30 pages long, being good at folding the paper could cut delivery time almost in half!  It’s hard to describe in words. Taking the paper already folded in half the way it is normally picked up, a good paper boy could fold it in either thirds or quarters so that the open edges of individual pages of the paper could be tucked into the closed edges on the other side of the paper. Picture what the newspaper looks like when you roll it up to, say, swat a fly. A good paper boy could create that shape in such a way that it could then be thrown quite a distance without unraveling. No rubber bands or plastic bags needed.  Instead of walking up to each one, you could walk along the sidewalk and throw a paper as far as 30 feet onto the front porch of the house where it belonged. Of course, papers would unravel from time to time and you’d find yourself picking up the pieces in the front yard. Or, as I know Tom experienced every now and then, a paper thrown too far could end up on the roof of that porch! When you have the exact amount of papers you need to deliver (no extras), that presents a real problem.

In addition to being very useful, folding the paper could also produce some excitement.  At the very end of Route 11, the last house to be delivered was set back quite a way from Owasco Street. My bet is it was at least 250 yards from the street which made it isolated and vulnerable. It was no surprise then that the owners of the house had a guard dog. And this guard dog was special - a dark, menacing German Shepherd with a vicious bark named Sheba.  Sheba was so threatening he wore a muzzle and was chained up long before leash laws were the norm.  It was terrifying to deliver the newspaper to this house because, from time to time, Sheba was outside. And, as you approached the house, you could not see the yard or the front porch which were hidden behind a 6-foot tall row of bushes.  When Sheba was out the owner usually was too, and you could just pass the newspaper off. But, for those times when you safely passed the bushes and knew that the coast was clear, it was fun to take a folded newspaper and throw it a little harder than normal with the hope that it would hit the storm door loudly before falling to the porch floor.  If you hit the target, you would instantly hear a vicious explosion inside as Sheba raced to the door, barking furiously, ready to tear the intruder to shreds!

If the owners had been aware of this trick, they would have been well within their rights to let Sheba out to chase after me which, of course, would have made having a bike to ride away useful after all.

There was another important dog on our paper route. His name was Prince and he was our family dog. Unlike Sheba and, again, because leash laws had not yet been passed, Prince was free to roam our neighborhood.  I’m not sure why, but for one of our neighbors who subscribed to the paper, Prince was not a welcome visitor. The neighbor was a grouchy older man who frequently sat on his porch in the summer wearing the classic “strongman” T-shirt. One day, as I was finishing up the route and passing his house, he yelled to me from the porch, “Hey, you either chain your dog up or cancel my subscription to the paper!”  I looked at him, continued walking and said very politely, “OK.”  Without thinking twice about it, I stopped delivering him the newspaper.

Yes, everything you need to know about business you can learn delivering newspapers. Without realizing it, I was learning about the power of a monopoly. Unless he wanted to walk to the grocery store every day, the only way that fellow could get a copy of the paper was if I was willing to deliver it to him.  For $.60 a week, on a route with 120 subscribers who are much more friendly, Prince had no worries. The neighborhood was his roam. About two weeks later, I felt a little bad for the man’s wife who met me on the sidewalk and asked if there was any way they could start the paper up again. “Of course!” I said.

It’s been 50 years since I delivered The Citizen and so much has changed. On the bright side, even though I live quite a distance away just outside of Philadelphia, I can still read my local hometown paper by going online. But in the same way that I fondly remember delivering the news, it makes me sad to think only adults, driving in cars early in the morning, deliver newspapers to our neighborhood.  No young teenager is running their route, working with a friend or sibling, meeting all sorts of different people along the way.  What great fun...delivering The Citizen.