Published: August 03, 2007 11:00 am         

Delivering newspapers pays off in more ways than one

As a young boy, I enjoyed reading The Cumberland News, Cumberland Evening Times and the Cumberland Sunday Times. The printed page fascinated me, particularly the sports page, where I could quickly check to see if Mickey Mantle and the boys had won another one.

But I did have another motive. Playing for Dapper Dan Giants and coach Buddy Merritt (with my dad Pete Alderton as assistant), I would check the day after a game to see if my name made the paper. As I recall, the criteria back then was that you needed to have at least two hits, and sometimes that actually happened. (I was not known as a good hitter since I struck out 24 times as an 11-year-old. I rebounded the next year with a sizzling, season average of .298 and even made the Dapper Division All-Star Team.)

At about age nine, I became a newspaper carrier's helper and often delivered the route by myself - Second Street from Virginia Avenue to Arch Street, Arch south to Third Street and then north on Arch to Oldtown Road, covering both sides of Arch. And then the day came when the route was offered to me. I accepted.

It was not an easy job. Some days the newspaper was thick with numerous ads, creating a heavy load for a skinny, 120-pound kid. Sunday editions were always heavy. The loaded canvas bags used to deliver the papers cut into your shoulder. Some of the bigger guys would carry two bags at a time, crossing the straps to the opposite shoulder. I wondered how Bobby Jones, Mike Frame, Frank Valentine and others did that without falling down.

Like more than a dozen other newspaper carriers in upper South End, I picked up my papers at the old Cumberland Electric Company building at Virginia Avenue and Second Street. Some days the deliveries were delayed, not a good setting for a dozen youngsters standing outside the business, becoming impatient, joking and laughing it up.

On snowy days, it was not unusual for snowballs to hit the sides of passing buses and taxi cabs. I'm still uncertain who could have hurled the icy objects at close range to create such a loud thud.

Sunday mornings were interesting. After picking up my bundle at about 5 a.m., I would sleepily deliver my product to every customer, some of whom were "Sunday only" patrons. Not much was stirring in the neighborhoods except for a regular orchestra of chirping starlings that built to a crescendo by first light.

Most delivery days were uneventful. But, at some point, I began getting phone calls from customers complaining that they had not received their newspaper. This happened Sunday after Sunday. Mystified because of my certainty that I hadn't "missed" a single customer, I dutifully returned to deliver the product - again. Soon I realized the truth of the matter. Someone was stealing my newspapers.

Week after week this occurred. I would lie in wait at strategic locations in an effort to apprehend the stealth thief. I could never catch him. He was good at this and he caused me great aggravation. One day I nabbed him walking up Virginia Avenue with an armload of Sunday papers, like they were his. He was caught but I don't really recall any justice prevailing. I believe he apologized and promised he wouldn't do it again. It was good enough for me and the problem ended as quickly as it had begun.

My customers consisted of all types of families from various backgrounds (Whetzel, Amtower, Mullan, Weimer, Koch, Baker, O'Neal, Bland, Robinette, Brown, Ketterman, Ellsworth, Parsons, Kline, Tichnell, Brinkman, Howsare, Growden, Taschenberger, Deatlehauser, Tabler, Peterson, Storer, Seltzer, Starkey, Farrell, Heck, Swartley, to name a few.) They were friendly and they treated me good. In the winter, I would shovel snow for many of them. On occasion, I would wash and wax their cars or clean their coal furnace. It was a nice way to supplement my income.

I paid my newspaper bill every week, wrapping pennies, dimes, nickels and quarters as necessary before settling the account. Some customers paid every week, some bi-weekly and some by the month, depending on their payday schedule. I probably made $10-15 a week and about $25 at month's end. Not bad money in the late 1950s.

The same customers lived in the same houses for a long time. It was unusual if someone moved. There was content, stability and permanence in the neighborhoods.

I was obligated to these people. It was unthinkable to let them down. They expected me to deliver their newspaper seven days a week and I took that responsibility seriously. To not deliver, to not show up, that was unfathomable. Collecting from my customers and then paying my weekly bill became a force of habit and I welcomed the task.

My newspaper career dominated my daily schedule after school although I could do my route in less than an hour quite easily. But it meant I had to head straight home after classes, no extracurricular stuff for me. I had to go to work and didn't mind it a bit.

The job taught me how to interact with people, how to be responsible and reliable and how to make a good name for myself. I protected that name and still do.

I was part of the working class and still am. No silver spoon for me. I earned my way and that's the way I wanted it. The positive lessons of living and working in close-knit neighborhoods of South End still carry with me.

Considering others, being courteous and polite, being respectful and conducting oneself in a dignified fashion were givens. I credit my dear mom and dad for my upbringing although I was far from being the perfect kid. As parents, mom and dad put family first, took their responsibility seriously and that heritage passed to me and on to my children. There were also deserved helpings of discipline along the way that helped mold my viewpoint.

Was the experience as a Sunday Evening Times carrier beneficial? Over the years, I held various positions in the business sector - men's clothing salesman at Lansburgh's Department Store at Tysons Corner in metro Virginia; opened and managed 24-hour Sheetz stores at LaVale and Frostburg in addition to training new managers; sold closed circuit and two-way radio systems for TWR in Cumberland. The sturdy foundation of my youthful business practices paid off.

A particular aspect of my boyhood experience still proves beneficial. That is the art of communication. Being able to express yourself clearly and in a concise manner is an advantage in a world where reading and writing for some have taken a back seat to technology, including television, video games, and other electronic forums.

My point: form a solid foundation when you are young. Parents, help your kids make good choices. Listen to them. Spend time with them. And don't be afraid to discipline them. And don't let these little tykes play both ends against the middle. Let them know that there is a wood shed. And, more importantly, that you are not beyond escorting them there for a sorely-needed attitude adjustment.

There will be a payoff. Who knows? They might even become a newspaper carrier.

Jeffrey Alderton can be reached at jlalderton@times-news.com.