Delivering the news

I feel sorry for kids today. When was the last time you saw a paper round being advertised, hoping for some eager 12 year old to trundle newspapers around for home delivery come rain or shine? Come to that, when was the last time you saw a shop that sold only newspapers and magazines? I last saw such a shop 3 weeks ago but it sure wasn't here in Phoenix!

I have fond memories of my paper round. Sometime in March 1966 I was recruited (I don't remember who or how) to replace a kid called Chris who was moving on to better things. Misery guts made me a 'horse' (the thing made of wood that you put over the centre bar of the bike to hang the bag containing the newspapers on) and Chris rode with me for my first couple of nights. We started around 4:30 PM with the first edition of the Herald and my route covered an area of Seddon that I reckon I could walk today in 30 minutes. On the bike it took longer! But that was just the first edition. When the first round had finished I'd return to the shop and pick up the second edition. Out I'd head again, delivering it. Each customer was very precise about which edition had to be delivered; woe if I got it wrong.

I remember the night this[^] hit the papers. I read the front page story bit by bit as I delivered the papers; by the end of the round I was on page 7 reading the fine print.

Thursday and Friday nights were more complicated. On Thursday I had to deliver various weekly papers. I don't remember the titles but they were such various things as the 'pink un' (a racing form paper), and the local Catholic newspaper.

Friday night was the worst, for it was on that night that, in addition to delivering the papers, I had to collect the weekly money. I'm 12 years old and I'm trying to convince this drunk guy that he really does have to pay for his papers. Or I'm trying to collect the money from a family so poor they have bare floorboards (this is way before polished floors became the go in Seddon) and they're shivering in winter.

I shivered that winter too, delivering the papers. At least it never snows in Melbourne. It does rain and the papers had to be delivered no matter what the weather. I remember riding through driving rain, taking paper after paper out of the bag, rolling it up and thrusting it into the metal tube provided that was never long enough to protect the newspaper and putting up with complaints the following week that the paper was soaked. Well of course it was you fool; you can't put 24 inches of paper into a 20 inch tube and expect it to be dry in a downpour! Idiots!

There were compensations of course. Coming home after a round and sitting down, the soaked working hero, to a dinner of lamb chops and mashed spuds eaten an hour after the rest of the family had dined, in front of the TV, watching Jackie Gleason.

And then there was Mrs Seductive. Of course, I didn't think of her in those terms in 1966. But, as I've written before, sex[^], or at least thoughts about it, were very much on my mind. There are those who might say that not much has changed! :-) Mrs Seductive played a most subtle game, calling me her 'little man' or 'her lover' and thrusting her boobs in my direction. As much as I was interested, intellectually, in sex, I was most uncomfortable with her. Just not my kind of woman. I fancy she might have been 35 or 40 at the time! She'd come up with some excuse to not pay for this weeks papers, smiling all the while, thrusting those boobs at me and smelling of cheap perfume and some kind of alcohol. I knew it was alcohol though I couldn't identify which type.

The house is still there on Grieg Street. I walked past it 3 weeks ago and I still had those feelings of half disgusted fascination. Nothing has changed about the house that I can notice; it still has the wrought iron decorations, the cream brick topped with concrete patio. For all I know Mrs Seductive still lives there though she must be pushing 80 by now.

After I'd collected the money and returned to the shop it was counting up time. We'd (there were 5 or 6 of us each with a different round) empty our bags onto the counter and pile the coins up, 5 20c coins, 10 10c coins and so on. Rex, the boss, would count it all up, make sure it matched the tally owed and then it was paytime. I don't remember the pay; maybe a couple of bucks. And then came the icing on the cake; we were each allowed a couple of magazines on the house. I chose Electronics Australia[^] and a British electronics magazine.

Good days! :-)