We had a paper route in our family for years. My eldest brother, Jim started when he was 12. My brothers, Steve and Jack all had it at one time. My younger sisters helped Jack. After Jack gave it up, the route was given up.
This was the Flint Journal, in Flint, Michigan. It was an afternoon paper, with Sunday and Holiday morning delivery. Thursday and Sunday were the big days, where the paper was the thickest/heaviest. We had about 100 customers on Lawndale and Proctor Streets, from Pasadena to Rankin, and the connecting streets in between. We broke it down into the Front half (Lawndale) and the Back half (Proctor).
Being an afternoon paper meant coming home immediately after school and getting to work. Rain or shine. When Jim had something after school, Steve took over. Then me. Sunday was early and I would get up at 6am to get out and deliver.
We had the big, canvas carrier bag. It did a good job keeping the papers dry, but it sure was ungainly. Remember, it was “designed” for use by 12 year olds. When you are 9-10, the bag just clears the ground. When heading for the Back half on foot, I would often put the bag behind me and put the strap across my forehead. Leaning forward, the bag just got to my lower back, making walking much easier. Once around the block, I would swing the bag down and let it bang against my legs.
In good weather, we would use our bike. Even with ten kids in the family, we only had a couple big bikes, and only one had a basket. We always rolled our papers and either tucked (Mon, Tue and Sat) or rubber banded (Wed, Thu, Fri and Sun). If it was a windy day, we would also band, to keep the paper from blowing away. I would squeeze all the rolled papers I could into the basket, drop the remainder into the bag, sling it over my shoulder and be off.
We were very attentive to our customers, heeding any special requests. Things like between the screen door, through the mail slot, under a chair, knock and wait (we had a couple elderly retirees). On foot, this was easy; on bike, it was a different story. Off and on, off and on, off and on. Never ride across a lawn, but on foot was allowable. Fortunately, these were city houses and the lots were small, so driveways were short. In all, it was a toss up whether foot or bike was faster.
We had a bar, a church rectory and a convent on the route. A number of bar patrons greeted us daily. It was strange going into a bar when you’re 10. Even stranger was going into the convent! It did not happen often, but enough. It was always a little unnerving. The church rectory was easy, after the convent.
In the winter, we wore what we called Korean War Army Boots. Looking for them now, I guess they were really modeled after the Wellington Boots. They were dry, but not very warm. An extra pair of socks helped. Eventually, I invested in a lighter fluid powered hand warmer. Nothing like having a small fire in your pocket.
We delivered the paper in all kinds of weather. By today’s standards, my parents would have been arrested for child endangerment. We would wait out tornado’s, but a little lightning? We were out there. Monsoon rains? We were out there. Three feet of snow, and the wind still blowing? We were out there. If we weren’t, customers would be calling. They expected their papers by 5pm, or by 8am on Sunday. Those big snow days were really a drag. We could often get a sibling to help.
I recall a few times over the years that my parents got the car out and would drive the route with us. This would happen if the papers arrived late and we needed to get it done fast. The tailgate would be open on the station wagon, and the papers in the back, one kid in the car rolling papers, the other one or two grabbing an arm load and running to doors. Mom or dad driving slowly, just staying ahead of the runners.
Thanksgiving newspaper was definitely a nightmare. Throughout the year, we would have sales events or special editions that required us to “stuff” the paper. That is, there was an extra section or two that had to be assembled. No big deal, the paper typically ended up about normal size. Thanksgiving often had “double stuff”. And they were all ads. It made the paper thick and heavy. We could only fit 12-15 papers into the carrier bag. That meant the Front half was now 4 trips out and back. The Back half was 5-6 trips out. And woe, woe, woe if Thanksgiving also had bad weather. Compounding misery upon agony!
Christmas was a little special. I had to be up early on Sunday to deliver, and Christmas was no different. I had to hustle because my parents would not let the other kids come down to open presents until I was back. But, getting up early gave me opportunity to peek at what was waiting for me. “Santa” gifts were never wrapped and were waiting by our stockings. Parent and sibling gifts were wrapped and under the tree. So, I would saunter by and see what was at my stocking.
I made roughly $20 a week off the paper route. Pretty good money for a 11 year old in 1965. And tips! That Customer Service paid off. During the year, we didn’t typically get tips on a weekly basis. We collected one half of the route on Thursday evening, with comebacks on Friday. So people were paying for two weeks at a time. I recall the collection was $1.20. Some would give $1.25 and say keep it. I had one customer that would give $1.50. On average, I made an additional $5-7 per week in tips.
But, Christmas! I would pull in $1, $2, $5 as tips! I recall my very best year I totaled out at $481 in tips. Outstanding! I was in heaven.
The copper sandwiched dimes and quarters were introduced in 1965. I started pulling any pre-1965 silver coins from my collections and tossed them in a can. I had several cans, jars and boxes of silver dimes, quarters and half dollars all saved up. One day, I discovered my mom had taken my coin jars to the bank and deposited them in my account. She didn’t know I was keeping them separate. She just saw that I had a pile of cash laying around the house and thought she was doing me a favor.
There was one Sunday morning, about 9am, that a couple uniformed policemen showed up at our door, wanting to talk to me. What!!! I was immediately nervous. They had questions. Did I see anything out of the ordinary that morning? People that I did not recognize? Turns out that a couple cars were vandalized, and the police noticed footprints in the snow going door to door. My footprints. So, they asked the obvious question: did I do it? Did I know who did? No and no. After 30 minutes, they left satisfied.
The paper route was a great lesson in responsibility, and it rewarded for good work. It got in the way at times, but was definitely worth it. I kept it until I was 14, when I got a “real” job. One that paid hourly. At Peter Pan’s Children Shop. That’s another story…