When I was a child in the mid 1960s, my age was impressionable. The Concord of 1965 was peaceful, serene and fulfilling for a young child. I was just old enough to read and sometimes browsed the Monitor Patriot newspaper headlines because my older brother was a paperboy. He would ask me to help him on his paper route sometimes with delivering the newspaper door to door around Church Street and Bradley Street. He promised to buy me a comic book and a chocolate milk if I helped him, always paying up with a quick visit to Sullivan’s Market at the bottom of the Church Street hill. I envied him in ways, thinking that I might be a paperboy too some day.
It was a few years later while I was a student at St. Peter’s School when a classmate approached me and asked if I could be his substitute paperboy. My friend George Silva gave me the quick rundown on the job and had me shadow him for a couple of days. We picked up the newspapers at the old Trolley Stop at White Park, delivered to United Life Insurance Company and then Essex, White, Beacon, Charles and Franklin Streets. Seemed simple enough — George enjoyed a break from the every day stress of being a paperboy too.
I substituted for a week while George was on vacation with his family. Within a month, George asked me if I was interested in taking over the newspaper route on a full-time basis. Being nine years old, I wasn’t sure if George was selling me the route or just giving it to me … but I had $1.38 in savings and would have certainly purchased the route from George if needed. Since we were classmates, I asked him once again if he was certain about our arrangement, after all this was a real job and I was still a bit concerned with the responsibility. He confirmed that I would start the following Monday. I became the owner of CON-409 and started my association with the Concord Monitor newspaper.
We lived near White Park and my parents were pleased to see me become a businessman. Dad explained to me that the job, any job for that matter, carried responsibilities and the customers depended on me to receive the news each day. The Concord Monitor wasn’t published on Sundays back in 1969, the Monday through Friday editions of the Concord Monitor were afternoon editions requiring me to deliver after school along with Saturday morning deliveries. I could not wait for Monday morning when I would sling the old canvas newspaper bag over my shoulder and walk down the street.
This job became my routine and basis for much experience. I learned a lot about being responsible, counting money, interacting with customers and listening to the old timers tell me stories from long ago. In time, I purchased a new Black Schwinn Stingray bicycle with side baskets to hold my newspapers.
As the months progressed and then the years passed, I formed deep friendships with my
customers. I would greet them on their porches and enjoy a fresh lemonade as they told me about their own youthful experiences, I finally realized my position as a paperboy really wasn’t about making a few dollars at the end of the week. It was about the people I met, the friends I made and the love of a good story told.
With my young age and some of my customers being in their late 80’s or even 90’s, I learned so much. Mr. Angwin would tell me about his father serving in the Civil War and about the years he played for the very first Sunset League Baseball Team with his brother at White Park. Mr. Robinson would tell me about things he did when he was my age, back in the early 1900s when people respected people and appreciated everything they had. Mr. Hackett would tell me about his job as a guard at the New Hampshire State Prison and boasted that nobody ever escaped under his watchful eye.
Soon my customers were no longer customers, they were my friends. I was hired by some of my elderly customers to shovel their driveways in the winter, water the plants on their porches when they were away on vacation or to feed their cats. Some provided me with a key to their house to make sure the mail was placed on their dining room tables. Yes, I enjoyed my days as a paperboy very much.
I met my wife when we were both 14 years old, delivering the newspaper to her on Franklin Street. I really hesitated to tell her it was a collection day and I needed my 78 cents, but I was a company man and the job certainly had to come first. We have been married well over 40 years and both enjoy remembering those days fondly over a half century ago. I was honored to be selected as Paperboy of the Year and brought to Fenway Park back in 1972 to personally meet Carleton Fisk and Yaz and a few of the other baseball legends. I still have the picture of myself standing with Carleton Fisk holding the autographed ball he gave me. Yes, it was so much more than a job.
After six years on the job, I decided it was time to retire. I found my replacement and passed the paper route along. I was 15 years old and ready for another job where I could experience more of life.
I would stop and visit Mr. Angwin, Mr. Robinson and Mr. Hackett sometimes. But the years
claimed them in time — I was saddened to read their obituaries in the Concord Monitor. I felt a piece of myself died too. But I realized I did possess a unique ability to remember all of the conversations I had with the old timers. This gave me much comfort and I carry those stories to this very day.
As my years have passed, I have shared many of those stories with all of you, my faithful readers of Vintage Views. I have found inspiration and a solid base to tell these stories that I recall from my very early years.
Sometimes when I walk the streets where I once delivered newspapers, I start to tell my wife the names of every person that lived in every house back in 1969. I still see them gently rocking in their chairs on their front porches. I think the old timers would be quite pleased to know that I have carried their stories into the future where they will again be shared and enjoyed.