I was The Paperboy
Memories of life in a small town during the 60's
"There are two kinds of people in this world. There are people who think there are two kinds of people and people who don't."
Growing up in my hometown of Russellville, it was still the age of newspapers.
John Kennedy was President. We had a milkman. TV was only three channels but sometimes only two. People would read to relax and pass the time. Readers Digest, Look and Life Magazine, books and the daily newspaper could be found in almost every home.
Logan County had an outstanding local paper for local news and local stories. National and state news came in the form of two choices: the big morning paper, The Courier Journal and the small afternoon paper, the Park City Daily News. A few odd souls with no true Kentucky spirit read The Tennessean. God bless their hearts!
Barry Mayfield delivered the CJ. I was envious of his position. Everyone read the "state newspaper." It was a big paper and he had a lot of customers.
I delivered the "The Park City".
First, I was never a morning person so an afternoon job fit my lifestyle. Second, smaller papers did have the advantage of being easier to carry and toss. I was good with that.
Being a paperboy also fed my entrepreneurial spirit. I would ride my bicycle to the drop point after school. The papers were in bundles and tied with string. I would cut the string, fold the papers and load them into the saddle baskets on my bike. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the strong aroma of all that paper and ink. I had around 80 customers scattered all over town.
The price per week for a paper was 35 cents. Most people paid me on time. That said, I can still multiply by 35 better than most.
Rain or shine I was there. Well, if there was a good snow, my dad always showed up and drove me around. He often drove me on Sunday mornings, too. Especially in the winter! That also insured I made church on time.
Once a year, everyone in town got a free paper. My sister Martha and the whole family helped me that day.
People were nice. Many customers would be waiting on the porch for me to arrive. In really hot or cold weather, I would often get invited inside for a Coke or some pie.
I tried to keep the paper dry when it rained. On clear days, though, I could just ride by and toss the paper somewhere near the door.
As a young boy, I hadn't seen much of the real world. Being a paperboy gave me a few new experiences and memories I still think about from time to time.
I recall one interesting customer who lived in the jail. It was actually the Logan County Juvenile Jail but he was an older man. I don't know how old he was. Everyone looks old to a kid. He was somewhere between 40 and 100. Really old! His cell was at the end of the cell block. The jail door and his cell door were always open. He had lost a leg and I assume he had no other place to live.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke and he coughed a lot, but he was always happy to see me. His mood was always bright. I would walk into the jail every day, deliver him a paper, and leave wondering what the heck he was so happy about.
I gave this coughing sick man a carton of cigarettes for Christmas. What can I say? it was Kentucky. It was the 60’s. I wanted to do something.
During this same period, I learned at school that three older schoolmates had been arrested for some mischief or the other. When I heard the news, I wondered if they were in the same jail as my jolly one-legged friend. Sure enough, When I walked into the jail that afternoon, I heard someone calling my name.
I didn't really know these guys but it was a small town. Everybody knows everybody. So I go over to the big cell where they are all three being held. We chatted a few minutes and now we are best buddies. For several days I would stop by to visit. I think I even brought them some magazines and candy.
The three boys didn't spend much time in the cooler. Three or four days maybe. I thought they were really tough because it would have freaked me out to be locked up like that.
Over the following years, I would run into these rowdy tough guys now and then. There is a bond between men who have spent time together in jail. They had my back.
Being a paperboy in a small town was a great experience. I'm not sure when paperboys or papergirls disappeared. It's too bad because it was a super job for a 7th grader.
I guess change is inevitable. Sometimes for the better, sometimes not. Newspapers aren't that important anymore. But their history is our history.
The paper connected us to the world.
Newspapers brought the subjects of daily conversation to Americans wherever they lived They were an important part of small town life.
I was the paperboy!