Paperboy; best job in town - Stories for my grandchildren

In my post Today I am seventy I mentioned that I had ridden a bicycle 5,000 miles. That was actually a conservative estimate. If you do the math (a 6-mile paper route delivered 312 deliveries a year for 4 years) it comes out to 7,440 miles. That's only the paper route. It does not take into account the fact that at that point in time everybody rode bikes far and near, day in and day out. We lived on bikes. It would not be out of the question to estimate that I have ridden bikes (there were many of them) for a distance nearing 10,000 miles in my lifetime. To put that in perspective, that's New York to LA and back. Then, back to LA, with miles left over! I know, I know. That still doesn't put me in the same league with the real bike riders and besides, the point of this blog is the paper route.

In the day, we were called "Carrier Salesmen" or "Little Merchants." That's because we were not actually hired by the newspaper - rather we were assigned routes - a section of town - and it was up to us to get and keep the subscribers. The newspaper sold us the papers at a discount, sold us the bags to carry them in, rubber bands (or twine) to close them up with, waxed paper to wrap them in on rainy days (Plastic bags? Didn't exist). Then weekly we went out and collected full price for the papers and settled our account at the circulation office. We got to keep what was left.  On a good week, when nobody moved, owing you for the last few weeks, you could make about $15. Good money in those days.

There are few "paperboys" these days. Most newspapers today are delivered by subcontractors set up to handle large volumes of customers (at most, I had 112 customers on my route). The contractors of today are paid by the newspaper, which bills the customer directly. In advance.

If we wanted to make more money, we knocked on doors along the route and enrolled more subscribers. In reality, about the only time this actually happened was when the paper had a subscription drive and offered prizes for the most new subscriptions - usually a trip to someplace nearby.

One trip was an airplane flight - my first - from Breckenridge to Abilene and back. It was on a DC-3, and I don't think they had time to raise and lower the wheels on the flight. While in Abilene, we visited the West Texas Utilities power plant, the Reporter-News plant and, foreshadowing my future, the studios of KRBC Radio, which was downtown in those days.

Another trip was to San Antonio, by way of Abilene, where we met up with a bunch of other carriers from other newspapers before heading to San Antonio the next morning. I recall that that evening we went to the Paramount Theater and saw the John Wayne movie "The High and the Mighty." I was really impressed with the twinkling stars in the Paramount ceiling.  The next morning we boarded a charter bus - my first - to San Antonio to cover the Alamo, the Alligator Gardens, the Buckhorn Saloon and Randolph AFB. I recall that we ate lunch at Earl Ables. I still remember the sign on the wall. "Eating keeps you able; eating here keeps Earl Able."

I also went to the State Fair in Dallas on one of these trips. I don't remember much about the trip itself, but I do remember that one of our party and I swear it was not me, was able to heft a water balloon from our hotel window right between a couple in a convertible on the street below us. Of course, we were asleep in our beds when they came knocking on our door.

But the most memorable trip was to Carlsbad Caverns. Five or six of us in the circulation manager's really small un-airconditioned automobile; the actual distance less than from Austin to Lubbock, but I swear it took us 10 hours to get there and 20 hours to get back.  And the Whites City motel made a lasting impression.

However, none of this - not the money, not the trips - was as impressive as the sheer coolness factor. For proof, I offer this photo:

Folks, you can't get any cooler than this. This, by the way is the official picture that appeared in the paper when I was announced as the "Carrier of the Year." Oh, yes! I'm just sorry that you can't see my turned-up pants cuffs.

But not only do you get the money, and the trips, and the fame, and the exercise, and the coolness... you also get the girls! The American was an afternoon delivery (except Saturday, which was delivered Sunday morning), so every afternoon I would buzz by the houses of a couple of girls that I was sweet on, do a little visiting and let them ride along with me and toss a paper or two. Actually, Ida Jo knew my route as well as I did. And if she wasn't along, I would stop and visit with Evelyn, who I also sat next to in band. Poor Mr. Hagler, up the block. He would come out and stand in his yard and fuss because his paperboy was down the street flirting with a girl. I finally learned to go as far as his house and deliver his paper before turning back to visit with Evelyn.

Let me see some delivery subcontractor match all those benefits!