With this month’s publication of Sue Corbett’s novel The Last Newspaper Boy in America (Dutton), the author says she’s been surprised at how many people throughout the process have told her, “Oh, I had a paper route!” Here at Bookshelf wefound that interesting, and we’d love to hear from any readers with their own paper route memories. To kick things off, we’ve asked Corbett to share hers.
In the early 1970s, my older brother delivered the New York Daily News up and down Linden Street in our Massapequa Park neighborhood. Occasionally, I filled in for him. Loved the money, hated the five a.m. wake-up call. So when I got my own route, I opted for the afternoon edition of the Long Island Press. It was a very small route—the Press may have already been feeling what would become the crushing dominance of Newsday—and I was able to carry the entire daily allotment in a deep canvas sack slung across the handlebars of a purple Sting-Ray bicycle (with a sparkly silver seat). Like this one, only purple:
At the beginning of the route, I’d have to hold the canvas sack up with one hand so it wouldn’t rub against the front tire fender but halfway into my circuit, the bag would lighten and I was free to use my spare hand to toss my papers without even stopping. And, ahhh, that last house done, the bag weightless, just me on my Sting-Ray, freewheeling home, dreaming of the Carvel ice cream cone (with rainbow-colored sprinkles) that I would buy with my tips.
And the tips! By the end of collection day, the weight of the coins in my front pockets was deliciously heavy, pinching my legs as I pedaled home to count my take—capitalism at its most carefree moment.
Did you have a childhood paper route? Tell us about it! Please post a comment, or email us .
