The American Spectator : Reagan-Era Paperboy

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Reagan-Era Paperboy

The best job for a kid is no longer available.

In 1985, everybody that I knew had a paper route. Time magazine’s Tom Vanderbilt reports that paperboys have been replaced with papermen. They apparently like to be called “independent delivery contractors.” Twenty years ago, Time notes, paperboys made 70 percent of newspaper deliveries. The most recent statistics show that paperboys make just 13 percent of deliveries — and you’ve probably noticed that subscriptions are down.

From 1982 to 1987, I delivered the Boston Globe. For those five years, I held three different routes — two simultaneously — and filled in for vacationing friends atop that. Mailmen brag of neither rain nor sleet nor snow keeping them from their rounds; newspaper carriers might add Sundays and federal holidays to that list. Paperboy is a 365-day-a-year job.

Time touts lost work experience as a reason to lament the demise of the paperboy. But I didn’t deliver papers as a career builder. I did it for the cash. My weekly profits, usually around $15, enabled me to purchase a road Quebec Nordiques jersey, Atari 2600 cartridges, and a bulky 4-inch black-and-white portable television whose supporting cast of ever-expiring D-batteries proved too costly for me to support. Not so frivolous, and unappreciated until a few years later, was the $5,000 college scholarship the Globe awarded for keeping a route for three years. I never got an allowance. I got a job. And when that cash in your pocket is your own, even if you’re using it to obtain already-dated electronic gizmos and fashion tributes to the Stastny brothers, you know its value.

Delivery was just one way the route turned a profit. A meek fiftysomething gentleman and his burly blue-collar roommate, surely my first cognizant exposure to gay people, contracted with me to shovel them out for a generous $20 upon significant snowfalls. A senior citizen, weak with emphysema, paid me to pick him up Marlboros. It was the '80s, and they didn’t card cigarette-buying nine-year-olds. He had but a few years to live, and I like to think the tobacco certainly increased the quality, if not the quantity, of his life. A shaggy customer, whose clock had stopped sometime during the previous decade, paid me $10 to help him move on a summer Saturday morning. He insisted upon finishing before that afternoon’s historic event, Live Aid, which, as soon became apparent, he considered historic for reasons peculiar to him. He excitedly asked, “Do you know that Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young are reuniting this afternoon?” “No,” I informed him. “Do you know that Led Zeppelin and The Who are?”

Other child-labor arrangements proved more stereotypically exploitative. An older woman believed that paying for newspaper delivery entitled her to my delivering her groceries as well. The hounding paperboy in the contemporaneous movie Better Off Dead more closely resembled a few of my customers. The call to go to the store rudely interrupted driveway basketball games, homework, and would-be record scores in Demon Attack. The unpredictability of the imposition haunted me. The 35-cent tip acted more as irritant than salve. For slightly more money, she employed me to remove crumbly insulation around pipes in her basement. Only later did I realize what she had then known: I had extracted more than my weight in asbestos.

Bad customers didn’t tip; worse ones avoided paying altogether. Fourth-graders aren’t very difficult to bowl over. Collection could be more negotiation session than straight receipt of payment. “Oh, goodness, no. Four weeks? You must be mistaken. Here’s two weeks.” The Globe didn’t absorb the losses. The paperboy did. Shouldering the costs of sweet old-lady scofflaws fostered a healthy childhood habit of saying “no” — half as long as a four-letter word but twice as offensive to adults.

So when a wealthy young customer — in the vernacular of the times, a Yuppie — avoided me for several months, and then declared that my tardy delivery justified non-payment, I pled with the paper office to cut the surly, stingy, and unstable woman from my rolls. “Make one last effort to collect,” they directed. Over my objections, I did. She proceeded to swear at me, hit me, and dig her nails deep into my neck. The Globe not only dropped her form my rolls, they flagged her to never receive home delivery again.

The delivery “death penalty” was the least of her problems. In a Henry II-St. Thomas Becket moment, I relayed my story of woe to several enthusiastic listeners. These principled hooligans, fond of hurling broken spark plugs at windows and reenacting Neil Armstrong’s moonwalk on parked automobiles, paid restitution. Their loyalty — even if more to hooliganism than to me — touched. The paperboy gets paid one way or another.

Despite the drawbacks, routes were sought after. I inherited my primary route from an older brother. I bequeathed it to a younger brother. Occasionally, carriers sold their routes. Now, you literally can’t pay a kid to deliver newspapers.

That’s too bad. Much of what parents protect children from turn out to be what they need most. Paper routes ensure outside activity every day, responsibility, independence, and familiarity with neighbors. The forced neighborhood interactions included a few children of the 19th century, shut-ins shut off from departed friends and spouses, whose time spent with a child of the late 20th could make a week — for me at least.

Alas, overprotective parents aren’t the sole, or even primary, issue explaining the decline of the paperboy. People don’t read newspapers in the religiously observant way that they once did. A byproduct of an uninformed citizenry is an uninformed kidizenry. More than instilling self-sufficiency or a sense of duty, a paper route produced a literate, worldly kid who read the product he delivered. Is it a coincidence that Matt Drudge, Matt Lauer, and Tom Brokaw delivered the news before they delivered the news?

Victrolas, telegraphs, duels, and other such atavisms generally go out of style because society progresses. Paperboys have faded into yesterday because society has decayed.

About the Author

Daniel J. Flynn is the author of Blue Collar Intellectuals: When the Enlightened and the Everyman Elevated America. He blogs at www.flynnfiles.com.

Letter to the Editor View all comments (76) | Leave a comment Leave a comment

Darin| 3.4.11 @ 6:42AM

Ah, memories. Getting up at 3:30 AM and spending 2 or more hours walking a route regardless of weather (northern Pennsylvania can get nasty in the winter). I had the fortune of never having "customers from hell," though some were tough to catch at home to collect (when I did catch them, they paid what they owed and usually a couple months in advance).

I got up at the same time in the summer and would be asked why because I didn't have school. It was a morning paper, and I told my customers they should be able to read it before work if they wanted to do so.

Having the route taught me valuable lessons and strengthened my work ethic. Like Daniel Flynn, it also provided pocket money for a teenage boy.

The Bishop| 3.4.11 @ 8:13AM

I agree, Darin. This brought back memories for me as well. Getting up at 4 AM back in 1962-63, dealing with Indiana winters and warm summer mornings delivering the Indianapolis Star to my customers. Making the weekly collections and learning to save. Those were good lessons to take into adulthood. I grieve that it is disappearing. But, good memories.

Dennis| 3.4.11 @ 9:51PM

Ah, the Indianapolis Star! Nothing like shoving that giant yellow cart with about 80 sunday papers (200 lbs I bet!) in the snow. That was 1968-71. Great memories. Then I joined the swim team, which had morning practices, and had to give up the Star for the New Castle Courier Times, which was an evening delivery. And nothing against my IU School of Business degree, but the very best lesson learned in business was confronting those deadbeats that did not want to pay me week after week. I was intimidated and scared but I would gather my courage and go back up to their door the next Friday, with 5 or 6 ragged tickets hanging down on their card, and ask for my money. You have to face the bastards and not be afraid to ask for what is rightfully yours. How many fifth graders today get this experience?

Handy| 3.4.11 @ 9:32PM

I had both morning and afternoon routes. Unlike others, I did no collecting. Subscribers paid the papers directly or the local news agency.

Awaking at "O Dark 30" wasn't always fun, but I would release my pet crow from his cage and he would follow me to the news depot where we would tie the papers into rolls using a vegetable wrapping gadget. When I hit the streets he would disappear until about half way through. Then, he would ride on my handlebars until we got home. Lazy sod.

Sundays were the worst. The papers were not only huge, but the afternoon editions also came out in the morning. This often required three or four trips back to reload my basket and my shoulder bag. I had over 120 customers.

One of the best things was that a couple of my clients were also horse racing fans, and they got the Daily Racing Form. As a kid, the race track was out of the question, but they used to give me picks and book my (usually less than the $2.00 minimum) bets. Needless to say, I hand delivered to them, and would collect the next day. 50 cents on a 4:1 shot was worth about 25% of my normal weekly take for the route itself.

Tips were also great!!! I was flabbergasted that folks actually sent money to me at Christmas. People I didn't even know would address envelopes to "Paper Boy" at our news agency. I would always include a Thank You note in the next day's delivery.

When I got a little older and became a high school football star, I had to give up the afternoon route. Practice, you know. However, I was able to compensate. You see, the papers arrived in my suburb by late night train. I was able to get a "working drivers license" at 14, and I picked them up in the company truck at 0200 hours from the station. It was actually tough work, especially on Sundays. More than 100 bundles to load and off-load. Kept doing that til I went off to college. That's probably why I am such a night owl, but retain my strong arms and bad back to this day.

And, talk about networking!!! An elderly (and very, very wealthy) lady to whom I also hand-delivered tipped me to shovel her walks. Then, I did her mowing and trimming. BTW, she also loved my crow. Later, when I got out of the Army, I stopped in to say hello, and guess what? She hired me to re-roof her considerably large mansion. That contract paid for graduate school.

I also took note of subscribers of the Wall Street Journal. Although I never got any tips from them, I did wrangle a summer internship at a brokerage firm from one of them. We used to ride into Chicago on the commuter train. I taught him how to handicap thoroughbreds, and he eventually bought several.

Maybe not so interesting to some, but this is a fond memory. In my town, we had a "School" for delinquent girls. When I had my gig driving the company panel truck, I dropped off the Weekly Reader there. Invariably, a couple of them would try to escape in the back. My next stop was always the police station. Boy, did they ever get pissed off.

Ah, yes. Reminiscences. Paper routes were rites of passage. If the newspapers published anything worthwhile, "Paper Boy" would be a growth industry.

Next time, remind me to tell you about my mule and our milk route.

Alan Brooks| 3.5.11 @ 12:21AM

Gosh isn't the Boston Globe a 'commie faggot' rag?
Boys, aren't you glad them thar lib'ral newspapers is goin belly up?

Thank the Lawd fer small favers!

Mike Hawk| 3.5.11 @ 9:15AM

I too had paper routes. Why are there no longer any newsboys?? They are required to file tax returns now. WHat kid is going to give Uncle Sugar 20% of his meager earnings to feed the greedy maw of a bloated bureaucracy. It isn't worth the effort.

Dave | 3.7.11 @ 12:36PM

I remember it well, as well. In 1958, while my folks and I were squeaking by in the cheap seats of a low-scale Palm Springs trailer park, I managed to get my an after school paper route with the Palm Springs Desert Sun. It was actually a combo route with that meshed together two very distinct neighborhoods. The first 19 papers I tossed each day were to folks living in some really small shack style house that were sitting alongside mostly unpaved, dirt and rock streets. Streets that weren't (at the time) graded out evenly. It was a tough ride on that ol' Schwinn of mine. But I managed.

The last 70 or so papers on the route were scattered throughout the northern section of the city. It was the section kids like me just called "the rich end of town." And I can tell you they were just ... that.

One of the papers I tossed in the upper end was to the very large home, a semi-mansion, that belonged to an old '40s band leader named Horace Height(sp). I was too young to have remembered his music or even what he looked like. Actually, I never saw him. But I recall the short, brick wall that surrounded the grounds had some kind of custom cut- blue tile plate embedded in its side with the initials ... H.H. Again, I never really saw anyone there when I tossed their afternoon "Sun", but as a low on bucks kid, I always thought to myself - "Hey, someday I'd like to live in a place like that." It wasn't from jealously or envy, but just seemed to keep me focused on where I'd finally like to end up in life.

Toward the end of my route, way further up in the real mansion section of town, was a huge piece of property with a very large two story residence, some spare garages and a small side room, all of it surrounded by a large, 12 foot wall. I never went inside the property; was just instructed to "toss it over the wrought iron gates."

I had that route for about a year until we ended up moving near the end of '59. And it wasn't until I gave up my route that I finally found out who owned that big ol' mansion with the 12 foot wall. The day I left the office, I asked my route manager who lived in that place. He smiled, looked up and said: "Dave, you've been delivering to a big movie director named Mike Todd and his wife ... Elizabeth Taylor.

Man, talk about your Giants.

As you might have figured, most of my customers in the upper end just sent their monthly payments directly to the office. A few of them actually had me come to their door and collect each month. What I came away with from that job was that rich folks are, for the most part ... pretty damn generous. That last Christmas, while I only collected monthly from a few of them, I remember the shocked look on my mom's face when I came back to our trailer that night and showed her what I'd just collected. In addition to the regular payment money that went to the office I was gifted with, among other goodies, a brand new, still in the box, very stylish boy's dress belt, a super nifty neck tie, a store bought box of fresh candies and snacks, some personally signed Christmas cards and several other really cool gifts from my well-off customers. Oh, and there was one more little bonus: Over 25 dollars in tips-cash money. Now, that probably doesn't sound like much compared to what's expected in tips today, but I can tell you that in 1958 dollars, that was a lot of extra money for a small kid riding around of a used Schwinn and living with his folks in a tiny trailer park.

To this day I've never forgotten that all of that holiday stuff came from ... the rich folks. Contrary to what many on the Left blither today --not all of them are selfish, greedy and self centered. At least not to this kid during Christmas season -- 1958.

Oh, and Miss Taylor, if you happen to read this, just wanted to wish you a belated Merry Christmas from your ol' paperboy.

See 'ya.

Appleby| 3.4.11 @ 7:05AM

For girls it was babysitting, from age 10 upwards; everybody including Mama had at least 4 kids and nobody thought twice about leaving the baby with a 10 year old on New Years Eve. Among many other skills, babysitting taught us why our mothers used certain techniques to which we personally, as children, objected -- namely, because they worked. Since we were expected to marry by age 18, and there was no such thing as birth control, we gained valuable experience; and because we were under no illusions about what child rearing was like, there was precious little out-of-wedlock pregnancy.

Other skill we learned from babysitting were negotiation, responsibility, not touching things that didnt belong to us, setting competitive wages and collecting them, and first aid. We often got dragooned into housework, specifically washing dishes, and didnt get extra for our pains.

And those of us who went away to university (or Bible College) were grateful to have learned to deal with other ways of keeping house, living in harmony with strangers, and doing laundry with strange and fractious equipment.

Today if you can find a babysitter, you probably have a webcam on her to make sure she isnt crouched over her binkie, tweeting to the world while the kids gargle bleach and roll the onions down the hall.

Sheila| 3.4.11 @ 12:21PM

My brother had a paper route for the local afternoon paper; he would occasionally pay me a penny or two to help fold them. He also cut lawns (no such thing as a self-propelled mower then) in the heat of D.C. area summers. I began babysitting for pay when I was 12 for the grand total of $.50 an hour, and did it well into college (when summer savings ran out, or I was profligate, or just wanted a bit more cash).

This was just your normal, middle class childhood with traditional American lessons in the Protestant work ethic and thrift (the latter often lost on me). I remember how shocked I was when I went to graduate school in England and not one of my three flatmates had ever held a paying job; they then turned down summer jobs if the pay and conditions weren't exactly to their liking and unashamedly took the "dole" instead. Decline and fall.

Occam's Tool| 3.4.11 @ 6:34PM

Superb as usual, ma'am.

Alan Brooks| 3.5.11 @ 12:25AM

"Today if you can find a babysitter, you probably have a webcam on her to make sure she isnt crouched over her binkie, tweeting to the world while the kids gargle bleach and roll the onions down the hall."

Racing cars is an adolescent enterprise, too. Start a church, Appleby, you could only help more people than racing-- racing is a dirty business.

But every man to the Devil his own way-- or her's.

Ken (Old Texican)| 3.4.11 @ 7:44AM

Appleby,
always a pleasure. (grin)
Mr. Flynn,
The papers today are'nt news. They aren't worth reading...or delivering.

Pelligrino| 3.4.11 @ 8:44AM

I, too, thank you Appleby. That reminded me of watching my sister go off numerous babysitting assignments and once, yes, just once doing that for a neighbor. (I was really outta my league.)

Ken, I normally always agree with you. But not this time. Some newspapers or papers today are still worth delivering.

No, certainly not the MSM garbage or their local smaller city-level subsidiaries that have really gotten so terribly thin.

The papers that I mean are the free local ones that cover some local news (harmless stuff like the 4-H Clubs, the county fairs, and the local fire station's open house). They are free because 4/5 of the paper is advertising including that great American advert the "sale!" with clip out coupons.

As silly as they may seem, these are indeed very useful for those newly arrived in the area. And you do still see a paperboy bringing them by. (Granted sometimes he's being driven by his mom in the SUV.)

Thank you fo r the article Mr. Flynn. I, too, got my newspaper job as a hand-me-down from an older brother and after finishing high school passed it along to younger siblings.

I am grateful for it in so many ways. One is it kept me in tip-top shape. I always slept until the last possible moment so I had to frantically run/sprint my entire route for about 70-75 minutes to avoid missing the schoolbus. So I was in shape for my varsity sport.

Thank you for the memories.

RT| 3.4.11 @ 7:49AM

I had a paper route in the 1980's. It was tough work but it taught responsibility - it had to be attended to every day, regardless of weather or holidays. But it paid good money, for a kid. But honestly, it's far too dangerous for a kid to be doing as it involves being alone in the dark every day at a predictable time. I'll have to concede that not having kids do this job is a good thing.

Pelligrino| 3.4.11 @ 8:53AM

RT, I am not disagreeing with you. But if it is so dangerous for a 13 - 15 year old to be out delivering in the neighborhoods....

Who are we? What have we become?

And aren't we older ones then to blame?

See my post above. I delivered in two very distinctly different neighborhoods in different states (a family move between these 2 different newspaper delivery jobs). Except for rogue hounddogs who were serious threats at times (had to outsmart 'em), these routes were perfectly safe for me and my younger siblings when they would substitute for me.

Thus, my grandparents' generation gave me safe neighborhoods.

What have we given our kids? (What are you really saying?) Isn't it time we get off our duffs and reverse this NOW?

Your neighborhoood and my neighborhood should be safe 24/7 for man, woman, and child.

If they aren't, we're plain flat broke -- physically and morally. (We ARE to blame.)

Let's fix it. Or are we no better than the back streets of Beirut, Lebanon or Rio d. J. in Brazil?

Sheila| 3.4.11 @ 12:23PM

We became Brazil long ago. Your plaint about our moral decay is a solid hit; however, the time to "fix" things has long passed - now is the time to mourn.

bluecollarbytes| 3.4.11 @ 8:17AM

I subbed once for a friend as a kid, throwing his route for a couple days, one of which I had to go collecting. I gave up collecting after a dozen houses because of the excuses.

Fast forward decades later and I was part of a wife/hubby team throwing 3 routes for 7 years. The last couple of years it was a 1:30am wake-up every day. I NEVER got used to the 2;30 -1:30am wake-ups (due in part to full time work during daylight). Those first minutes of every day were the most miserable because you can't afford to wake up leisurely. It's more like bam, get up, grab coffee, head to warehouse to wait in line for the first truckload of papers. If you were 'lucky', you'd have papers to 'process' after a 45 minute wait.

We did it for the money, but 'weirdly'....it was a part of our lives and offered its own rich experiences.

There wasn't a kid in sight, unless folks brought them.
But they'd have to stay in the parking lot because of the labor laws.

eorr

Dave Anderson| 3.4.11 @ 8:22AM

I had a paper route in South Bend, IN---I know cold. When JFK was killed the paper was delayed when I got it---I went out. Many people had not seen the news. That gave me the first hint that being a newsperson would be a great career.
Peace and Freedom---Dave

Bob White | 3.4.11 @ 8:30AM

That brought back memories. It's the old people I remember best. Waiting, waiting, waiting for them to slowly walk across the floor in half-steps to get their wallet. One old man paid me with a silver Columbian Exposition half dollar (this was in 1972). I knew it was too much and too valuable, but he smiled at me and winked, "No, you take it." His son was angry when he found out and directed me never to let his father pay. It was the best tip I ever got!

At 16, I moved on to work at McDonald's which paid better. But I missed it so much I went back and took on a smaller route close to home. In that neighborhood was a deaf boy who would smile and squeal with delight when he saw me approach on my bike. He liked to help and we both relished the friendly attention, though we never spoke.

donserge| 3.4.11 @ 8:33AM

How about the tips at Christmas that made much of the 'drudgery' worth while?

JP| 3.4.11 @ 8:53AM

Newspapers haven't been worth reading for 4 decades. Most of the people I delivered to read the paper for 3 reasons, a)sports b)comics, and c) the obits. And I knew a few who only read the legal notices (divorce and bankruptcy).

Daniel| 3.4.11 @ 8:58AM

Great story - and I totally agree with the conclusions. I delivered a route from 1976 - 1984. The self discipline and customer service skills which I acquired were even more important to me than the token money.

The only thing that Flynn doesn't mention is being chased by dogs. The Sunday paper was a morning and I fondly recall waking at 4:00 am to get it out by 6:00, riding down the middle of a deserted main arterial street on my bike, sack of papers slung over my shoulder.

I have a 10 y/o now, but is seems so unlikely that she'll have the experience I once had. Sad.

Darin| 3.4.11 @ 10:24AM

I not only had to deal with dogs, but also the occassional deer or skunk. Trying rounding a corner at 4 AM and being 10 feet from an 8-point buck. Or seeing a movement in the grass as you walk up the sidewalk and seeing a skunk. Never had an incident, but more than a few surprises.

Nunya| 3.4.11 @ 5:45PM

I delivered papers for a year or two back around '77, never really had the dog problem as most of my customers kept them in the house or the back yard. However, I had to walk the route and had the old-fashioned carrier with essentially a pouch on both sides kind of like an open pancho that one put their head and arms through. I remember Sunday papers weighing what seemed to be 100 pounds as I had to walk to all of my customers and deliver them at 4 AM.

Fond memories. :-)

PCC| 3.4.11 @ 9:01AM

Nice article, Mr. Flynn. Thanks for the memories.

My father woke up my two brothers and I every day at 5:30 a.m., six days a week, covering two routes in a small city in Western Massachusetts, never missed a day in 10 years, and raked leaves and shoveled snow on the side, as the season demanded. Apart from our parents' example, it was probably the single best educational experience for life that we got. It's a pity today's youngsters no longer have that opportunity.

Brubaker| 3.4.11 @ 9:02AM

My wife and I, living in Northern Virginia, have often commented that in this area you simply do not see teenagers engaged in any form of paid employment.

The local fast food joints are staffed by a variety of adult immigrants. Newspapers are delivered (to the few who still subscribe) by adults riding in vans. If a homeowner wants to hire someone to mow their lawn or shovel their driveway, it will be done by adults and, again, probably recent immigrants (legal or not).

We've speculated on the reasons for this. Why are teenagers apparently no longer interested in earning a bit of cash? Perhaps for some it's simple laziness. Perhaps for others it's their affluent families and little need for extra cash. For still others it may be a heavy academic workload. Whatever the reas0n, teens are virtually invisible in the working world, and are missing what once was a treasured part of becoming an adult.

Pelligrino| 3.4.11 @ 9:22AM

Brubaker, very interesting observation. You must be in a very densely populated part of N. Virginia? (Maybe all of NOVA is now?)

NOVA is OVER-saturated with immigrants and illegals (not just the Hispanic illegals). I was just speaking to a Korean boy now away at college who hails from Annandale. He spoke of how HUGE the NOVA Korean community is.

I'd like for others to comment -- please -- on what Brubaker says. I think he's right. The teen after school job scene has changed in America.

A few years ago I did a radio interview where I was the guest answering questions on the "Comparisons and Contrasts" with W. Europe.

One of my points was that teens in American typically had several odd jobs (for money/paid)during their high school years and certainly summer job opportunities. A fair number of kids even starting while in jr. high. I saw no such job/economic activity by same-aged teen kids in W. Europe except in very rural areas or in some small port fishing towns. (No jobs for these Euro teens even though they'd get off from school at 2 p.m. and have NO available after school activities. Any activities were exclusive to the schools.)

I guess I should now eat some crow? America has so changed? Is this one more area where we ahve to conclude that: We are indeed becoming like socialist Europe in so many ways.

I would like to hear/read from others what they observe in their locales. Thank you.

Sheila| 3.4.11 @ 12:32PM

My older son got his first paying job at 16 (three years ago). He has worked steadily since, combined with going to school. Many of his friends started working at the same time, but it seems to be hit or miss. No Americans work at McDonalds these days (they are all Mexicans); I have dealt with some Whites at Wendys; one of my son's friends works at Sonic. Others got sales jobs at the mall and many waitress and bus at restaurants. We live in an affluent area, however, where many kids park their Mercedes and BMWs in the school lot and routinely get $50-$100 a week in spending money from their parents. At the same time, we are flooded with illegals, like the rest of America, so numerous entry-level jobs are shut to legal American teens. We refused to go the overly-generous allowance route (both on principle and because we couldn't afford it); while my oldest is far from frugal, he's learning/learned the value of a dollar the old-fashioned way - by supporting himself.

Donna| 3.5.11 @ 7:28AM

You are right with your analysis. I do not want my Son working with illegal’s at McD’s b/c they are criminals. This represents a bad influence not to mention drinking, gangs and stealing.
The paperboy job is a good job with a lot of responsibility. My brother’s had routes and I helped out one weekend-icy, cold and sleeting. You learned quite quickly that you don’t quit because you don’t like the conditions. Those papers had to get delivered or the phone started ringing.
I don’t know too many people paying for a paper, but I do know many of my neighbors hire yard work, help with a big project and maintenance work. My Son is busy making money and is a bit of an entrepreneur.

Seek| 3.4.11 @ 1:18PM

I've lived in Northern Virginia for the last 25 years. I donlt think that I can recall a single white teen working at a fast food restaurant int eh whole time -- maybe the first few years at most. Everyone is Hispanic and that's just the way McDonald's, Wendy's and all the rest like it.

PJ| 3.4.11 @ 9:34AM

There are alot of teenagers who are interested in working part time. Unfortunately this horrible economy is forcing many people to work at jobs beneath their skill level which pushes the unskilled teenager out of any job market. Also, states have put major restrictions on employers who do want to hire teenagers.

The uneducated immigrant is also taking those unskilled, manual jobs from the teenager.

I would like to think the widowed granny who lives on a limited income in an empty house would most willingly pay a young, nonthreatening teenage boy a few bucks to shovel the snow from her driveway or mow her lawn. My 10 yr old son & his friend will be looking for her this summer.

Owen Ranger| 3.4.11 @ 9:47AM

I had a paper route in my neighborhood for almost three years. Getting up at 4:15 every morning to deliver the Anchorage Daily News was easier to do in the summer (when the sun was up) than the winter, and I didn't have to worry about collecting dues myself (this was the '90s). It's too bad that this is no longer an option for kids.

Gary| 3.4.11 @ 9:47AM

Daniel! Kudos on a great article. I had a paper route I shared with my younger brother. As I was bigger and burlier than he (still am), I was the "bad cop" when it came to collections to my brother's "good cop". We occasionally had to resort to cutting off non-payers. When we got the outraged phone call, I would stroll over to explain the basics of good commercial practice in case the non-payer wanted to offer violence instead of contrition. It was a great first job for us both because like you found out, when you have to work hard for it, you spend it VERY CAREFULLY!

Michael L. Hauschild| 3.4.11 @ 9:51AM

Thirty three daily’s, thirty one Sundays from 1957 to 1959. I Collected forty five cents a week for the combination, the paper puncher for my customer cards was custom (it punched out a cloverleaf). Thirty five cents went to the World Herald in Omaha; each one of those “chads” earned me a dime. I learned of wholesale/retail, the finicky nature of customer relations concerning weather and product placement, even the shocking revelation about short change artists. I was Donald Trump in Keds, wealthy enough to appreciate the luxury of purchasing the “Classics;” comic book works of Mark Twain, Jules Verne, and Edgar Rice Burrows for the lofty price of fifteen cents. (Superman cost a dime.) My first big purchase was also a luxury, a Gambles Hiawatha MOTOR SCOOTER, which the neighborhood Mechanic, John Tower, “contracted” with a weekly stipend for rebuilding the one and three quarter horsepower engine. He also got me into the real money by selling me a lawn mower; my income soared even as I became a motorized deity to my peers.
Thanks for the article and bringing back my youth for a moment.

Occam's Tool| 3.4.11 @ 6:42PM

As for myself, I found the ULTIMATE job as a teenager---I was a movie usher---free popcorn and free movies. Wow.

Stan Redmond| 3.4.11 @ 9:52AM

Being a country boy there wasn't much of a paper route to be had. BUT...Bailing hay, mowing lawns, trimming trees, yard work, fence mending, shoveling Obama in the stables, were all the ways us kids made some extra cash. ALL without government supervision and we still managed to live productive lives. I miss the days of being an undocumented non tax paying laborer.

Hillel| 3.4.11 @ 10:00AM

The fact is;Newspapers are disapearing hence Newsboys. I think an enterprising kid could still make out by staightening out peoples bollixed computers.

Peter J. Lyden, III| 3.4.11 @ 10:36AM

In the '70s, I had the morning paper route in my development. It meant getting up every day at 4:30 am and instilled in me a love of early rising (I later held a couple of positions as a morning-drive radio jock) that I've only recently rediscovered. Best thing was, most of my friends competed for the afternoon run, so the paper split our development of 180 homes up among a few of them. I, however, had the morning market all to myself. Lesson in market capitalism: to succeed, find an underserved niche and fill it.

Curtis Rasmussen| 3.4.11 @ 11:58AM

I subbed for a neighbor's route when I was a kid. Although the job only lasted a few days, I still remember waking up half dead at 4 in the morning to wrap the papers in rubber bands, followed by carting hefty bags of newsprint on my bike to the houses on the delivery route.

I never seemed to recover throughout the school-day. I went through the motions, half comatose from the uncustomary exertion.

You learn to appreciate hard work and how fortunate many of us are to make futures for ourselves through sacrifice.

Petronius| 3.4.11 @ 12:08PM

The trials and tribulations of "the good old days" be juxtaposed with contemporary ones, and we've got the BTDT's. I caddied. If there's a best job for an adolescent today, that's it. The conventions and etiquette of Golf can work wonders to any youth who aspires to be more than a pack mule. Should he not learn or show no more interest than having a slightly thicker wallet after the loop, he can look forward to delivering circulars door to door. If he is bright and properly attentive to his golfer, he acquires patience, self control, a bit of deference, and amity from tee to green. And that leads to opportunities down the line.
The main thing that is totally lost on generations from the boomers on, is the lack of any desire to please others in the course of daily mundane affairs and commerce, because we don't consider them as relationships in any sense. If a job is just a job with no goal except the check and anticipating the first Social Security payment, (not having to work anymore), then the sum total of that person's career has no value, and his existence no meaning save as a producer of bodily waste.
The chip on the shoulder is now a railroad tie. And the event in the Wisconsin State House are an exhibition of employee expectations that are way out of line. The bald faced contempt the teachers and their supporters display towards those who are compelled to pay them for their mediocre accomplishments is a cultural travesty. But unlike club members, taxpayers are a captive clientele. They get neither satisfaction nor consideration, but they have an adversarial relationship which ends when the taxpayer dies.
My colleagues from the caddy shack who learned better climbed higher on the social food chain than any pedestrian time server.

Occam's Tool| 3.4.11 @ 6:43PM

Excellent reply.

PattyMor| 3.4.11 @ 1:11PM

I live in an upper income area. My grandson delivers a local paper one day a week. He started when he was 8; it was something he wanted to do.
I'm his grandma and we deliver the paper together. He is usually enthusiastic; but his will did flag when the temperature dipped to 20 degrees. He is learning how to work.

Michael L. Hauschild| 3.4.11 @ 1:31PM

It is becoming obvious that in order to post at AS you either have to have had a paper route or hauled your kid around on one. Coincidence? Causation? What the hell could this mean?

Occam's Tool| 3.4.11 @ 6:46PM

Dear Michael: A reverence for the printed word was installed. With me, in high school the battle with my father began in the morning, with the Sun-Times. Royko's article was on page 2. As a tabloid, that same long page was both 1st and last page. Last Page was cover page for the Sports section.

Royko wrote exquisite prose, as we all know. This battle taught me negotiation skills that I still use today.

Michael L. Hauschild| 3.4.11 @ 8:36PM

I read him because he was hilarious.

Occam's Tool| 3.5.11 @ 2:03PM

Indeed. He also liked MDs. Disliked the Clintons. An Intelligent Liberal. Last of a kind. RIP.

Tom Flynn| 3.4.11 @ 2:17PM

Great article - brought back wonderful memories of delivering the Springfield Daily News as a 12 and 13 yr old in the early 40's in Westfield, MA. I had 52 "customers", each of them special! One poor elderly women would pay me the 18 cent weekly fee with 2 dimes and ask for the 2 cents change (my usual tip) - and much to my dismay would make quite a show of going to a cabinet, taking down a small jar and depositing the coins. At Christmas time she proudly gave me a $2. tip- much to my amazement and joy!
I learned many invaluable lessons from that experience, especially the one of even small savings adding up eventually to significant sums.

PCC| 3.4.11 @ 10:30PM

Dear Tom,

In the 60s and 70s we delivered the morning Springfield Republican in Pittsfield, 7 cents per day, six days per week. Most customers paid 42 cents, a few paid 50 cents, and the DeHunt's paid 60 cents, God bless them!

PolishKnight| 3.4.11 @ 2:51PM

Although kids today are worse educated than in the past, it's not the death of newspaper delivery boys (so to speak) or even newspapers that are the primary reason.

On the contrary, as we ALL know too well in this forum, most newspapers were socialist shills pretending to be objective journalists pushing an leftist philosophy that taught that belief in certain leftist dogma trumped actual knowledge. Even today, leftists routinely tell me "facts" such as the Virginia Tech shooter bought his guns at a gun show (which is false.)

In addition, the main reason why many of us bought a newspaper are now over: real estate and job ads and the business circulars every Sunday. I can more easily find that information though their websites or even get special discounts by email.

Dee See| 3.4.11 @ 9:56PM

---ONCE AGAIN

"America better watch it or in a couple
of decades we're going to be little more
than a minstrel show for RED China."
-Gore Vidal
1985
(the begining of full-throttle
sellout to RED China and globalism
generally, and the 'heyday' of
Reagan)

-----BACK to Coolidge, Harding!

-------BACK to the
ANTI private central bank,
NON capstone, true Bible believing,
conveniently assassinated, Garfield
and McKinley.

BACK!

Mike Z| 3.4.11 @ 10:00PM

I had a paper route when I was 10 to 15, I was 10 in 1976. As soon as I got the paper route, I still did chores around the house and my parents stopped paying me an allowance, it was expected of me to do the chores. I paid for everything except for educutaion(private school). It taught me how the real world is and how to work for my family's money. I still try to abide by that theory now even though kids today are very spoiled. If they only knew how it was back in the day and learned from that instead of what happens now.

Pelligrino| 3.5.11 @ 1:50AM

The funny thing is that we probably all learned far more useful things doing these newspapers and the myriad of other odd jobs teens do....We learned more in the work than we did in those high-priced per semester hour college classes.

MoeBlotz| 3.5.11 @ 8:16AM

Why the demise of newspaper delivery routes for juveniles ?? The despised IRS is why. Your Democrat elected rulers saw a huge sum of money being sucke from the great pile of $$$$ in Washington,DC and decided to rein in the thieves. Paperboys had to get Social Security numbers and pay income tax. I dung remember what year,somewhere late 1980s the youts had to report income even if it were not taxed. All of us who delivered the printed pulp before then could earn up to $2,000.00 and not have to report it. !)@(*#&$#^"?/>< }{ feds killed the jobs for America's youth. (_!_)

Mike Hawk| 3.5.11 @ 9:17AM

Mike Hunt| 3.5.11 @ 9:47AM

Great article. I too had an afternoon paper route for five years. I have many fond memories of collection nights. You really learn a lot about people who live behind those doors, your customers. Unfortunately, the real reason there are no longer paperboys and the reason that you don't see kids play freely outside as much anymore is because of the Johnny Gosch case. Look it up on the internet if you don't know what it's about. As a society, we need to get serious with pedophiles and people trafficking.

Jim Woodward| 3.5.11 @ 11:19AM

Petronius,
I had an Evening Sun route in Baltimore, 8th and 9th grade or so and then matriculated to the local public golf course, Mt. Pleasent. Loved to caddy! Learned enough about the game to club my players, distance them to the green and start playing myself.
When the family moved out to the county I caddied at Hillendale Country Club. Great money! I usally carried a double and on weekends would get a morning and afternoon round. Always had members who ask for me to carry their bags. One always took a cart and the only thing I had to do was club him and spot the ball. Tips were awesome and the the club minium of $8.00 per bag always kept me in cash.
Marylands mild weather also translated into at least 9 months of income.
Mondays were caddy day and the course was ours to play! The club also had an annual caddy tournament. Still have a putter I won for 1st in my flight.
Wonderfull memories.

Petronius| 3.5.11 @ 1:12PM

J.W.
Do take the time to read and savor the Sage of The Sun, H.L. Mencken. One of my goals is to acquire at least one copy of all his works. I own three first editions of The Prejudices and am in the market for more. I have also visited Pratt Library and seen his personal collection, but they would not let me sit in his favorite wing back chair.

Jim Woodward| 3.5.11 @ 8:46PM

Petronius,
That would be the 'Sage of Baltimore'.
My copy of 'The Vintage Mencken' cathered by Alistair Cooke is a bit worn but still lovely to read.
I have been to his home, if memory serves, in Union Square.
At one time, the Baltimore Sun was a top ten newspaper in the country. Now? Nothing but a dead fish wrapper.

Occam's Tool| 3.5.11 @ 2:04PM

Dear Petronius:

That is a bloody shame. Lots of things I disliked about Mencken, but his prose was awesome and he eviscerated chiropractic.

Petronius| 3.5.11 @ 8:39PM

O.T.
You need to read his letters to get a better measure of him. There are two things I hold against him. He tended more often than not to kick the unfortunate when they were not just down, but had no prospect of improving their condition. And the very idea of mixing a highball with Scotch Whiskey is an abomination even if such a travesty is committed with swill like Cutty or J & B, which is only 10% Scotch by law anyway. It just is not done!!

Slingshot| 3.5.11 @ 2:28PM

A spray bottle of water with a little ammonia in it took care of the vicious mutts that tried to take my legs off as I bicycled around on my paper route. I never figured out whether it stung their eyes or their noses, or both, but after one or two experiences with it they left me alone.

I remember being up before dawn rolling up and wrapping the rubber bands around the huge Sunday Birmingham Times, then setting off in the predawn darkness to leave one on the doorstep of each of my subscribers. I pedaled right up to the doors, and took great pride in the fact that no one on a Sunday morning ever had to take more than one step outside his front door to pick up his Sunday paper. And I was often richly rewarded in tips for it as well, but would have done it anyway. The papers were so bulky and heavy I had to go back home more than once to get a new load; couldn't carry them all at once.

With a paper route you learn to take pride in your work, a great lesson for a kid. Today I see a bored-looking man in a van driving around neighborhoods slinging papers out the window into bushes and mud puddles, and remember those days.

My brothers and I also mowed all the neighbors' lawns for cash. Now the illegal Mexicans who do it don't even speak English.

I think America is in decline.

Michael L. Hauschild| 3.5.11 @ 7:00PM

Slingshot,
Our neighborhood is looking up. Our paper girl is fifty five. My first job as a bouncer was at the Aquarius Lounge on 72th and Pacific in Omaha. She and her younger sister were stunning; they would make an entrance back then (1976) and literally hush the mostly male crowd. Now I occasionally bring her a soda as she drops off our paper, not a word needs to be said, we both simply laugh.

Brian the Cushion Guy | 3.6.11 @ 12:31PM

My neighbor delivers papers, not the 13 year old child, the parent. Seems that in this economy, even delivering papers is a welcomed income(and at 6'3" 240 lbs. I bet his collections are accurate!!!).

He used to drive semis into and out of Canada(we live in Michigan) carrying consumables, he was laid off last year with no expectation of rehiring after 16 years.

The paper route was the first income opportunity to come up, he took it. It brings in about $300.00 a week for him(a very large route!), not enough to live on but a welcomed asset none the less.

You are absolutely right about not being able to get a kid to deliver anything now-a-days. The newest generation is a lazy bunch in absolute denial, their common saying is "I didn't". Like doing something is a bad thing. (I have 3 children twin 16's and a 19, all girls) There is no way any of them would do a paper route, just plain too much work no matter what the pay!

As a child I would have loved a paper route instead of the jobs I did. Picking rocks from fields for 50 cents an hour(hey I am only 50), baling hay at 90+ degrees, dragging and stacking 8' poplar logs, a paper route would have been nice!

Brian Ankner

Phil Suckalewski| 3.6.11 @ 1:34PM

I delivered the Washington Times back in 1979-80 and my first night was a disaster:

The Times was an afternoon paper Mon-Fri and early morning on Sat & Sun. I got home from school and proceeded to load my wagon and truck through the neighborhood. Around 8:00 pm my Dad received a call from the Times' distribution manager wondering where I was because he had received so many complaints on non-delivered papers. I was still out delivering, I had not planned my route at all and it was taking forever.

That night, my Dad & I drew up a delivery map and the next days went much better; eventually I was even named carrier of the month.

Besides learning how to collect money and pay for my papers each month, I also learned about investing capital; as I eventually bought a saddle basket for my bike which allowed me to deliver more papers in an afternoon and even pick up a second route.

Sorry that my sons won't have the same opportunity. However, I think there is big money to be made in contracting out to the neighbors the garage cleaning services of three young men.

Steven Smith | 3.6.11 @ 10:44PM

love it. I was in street corner sales of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch back in the 80s which was a hustle of its own. We were coming off of a rather wicked war that sunk the other daily in town, and I learned a lot about rough characters, the nearly unemployable and those on the fringe of society.

I now employ neighborhood kids for all sorts of odd jobs. There are definitely still hungry kids out there. I am sure many have commented that the kids are too lazy today, but I can assure you there were a ton of lazy kids that could not handle selling papers back in my day. One of the kids that works for me is the last of the paperboys from what I know, for the sales have finally dropped to less than 10 a shift(I typically did well over 100) which is not enough cash to keep the kid in business.

Laker| 3.6.11 @ 11:07PM

This really brought back memories for me. I delivered the Detroit Free Press for five years back in the fifties getting up at four thirty in the morning everyday and collecting every Saturday. It was good for me in many ways as far as independence and building muscles. But there were also some negatives. Because I did not get enough sleep and free time, I did not do as well in school as I could have and should have. I also never had the time to read the books I should have. Now in retirement I am doing some of this, I just read "War and Peace" on my Kindle. I can never be sure how my life would have been different but my gut tells me I could have done a lot better than I did.

Mark MacDonald| 3.7.11 @ 12:26PM

Thank you for the memories. In the late sixties and early seventies I had a Detroit News route of more than 70 customers . I was the first kid on the block to own a Schwinn ten-speed and I bought my own electric guitar. In the nineties when paper routes were no longer available, I bought my twelve year old son a lawn mower and the kid was making a $100 a week in no time.

Mitchell| 3.7.11 @ 2:31PM

I delivered the Harrisburg Patriot in 1980 and 1981. It was a love/hate relationship. I enjoyed meeting the neighbors and receiving tips at Christmas. The downer was trying to collect from the same deadbeat every week. He would rarely pay. He would yell and cuss at me in front of his family. He would lie that he never received his paper. Poor example of a dad. Horrible customer. After a few months of this I complained to my manager who gladly went to collect for me and then cut off his paper supply.

Anyway. It was hard work but it brings back good memories and I learned a lot.

NCalif| 3.7.11 @ 4:43PM

"People don't read newspapers in the religiously observant way that they once did. A byproduct of an uninformed citizenry is an uninformed kidizenry. "
Hmmm...maybe people are just tired of reading Marxist propaganda sold as "news".

jim| 3.8.11 @ 8:31AM

I too delivered The Boston Globe for 2 years (1977/78) before the demands of high school athletics took the extra time away. Many lessons were learned by my youthful employment. At the age of 16 I progressed through dishwasher, busboy, janitor, pharmacy technician, etc. All of these jobs exposed me to both good and evil people. I took the lessons and the cash management skills and they have made me a better man all these years later

MacDaddy| 3.8.11 @ 9:14AM

Detroit News...from 1971 to 1975...inherited the route from my brother...Ruth Street between Maylawn and Wick in Allen Park, Michigan. To this day, I can still walk the route in my mind, remembering how every house looked, and remember where all the pretty girls lived. Used the money for baseball tickets, hockey tickets, Chicago albums, and later cigarettes and beer. Learned to work my ass of for my money; don't worry about cold, heat, humidity, how much the papers weigh...just get it done so you can get back to the baseball diamond, football field, or basketball court with my mates....doesn't get any better or more American than that.

Jim Agnew| 3.8.11 @ 4:00PM

I, too, was a paperboy in the late 60s and early 70s in Webster, in western NY state, and sympathize with your description. I had deadbeats, which were difficult to deal with, especially when I was making only $13/week. One elderly woman considered a nickel as a big Christmas tip, but she later knit me a pullover. The Catholic Church was my biggest tipper, at $5.00. I once got bitten by a dog, and got covered with slush by a passing city bus, which quickly froze until I became a motionless statue. But I made enough to buy candy, record albums, comic books, and even a 10-speed bike and a good used Arctic Cat snowmobile (which I still own). I have a framed copy of the "Man Walks on Moon" issue from 7/21/1969 and have saved several papers since then. It was my first real job.

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