KIRBY, THE PAPERBOY

Kirby was our paperboy and he was the best ever – I’ll tell you why. 

You see being a paperboy is a calling and one has to have a “knack” to be good at it.  There are few who make greatness – Kirby was one of the few.

Most people don’t realize just how much work goes into the job.  One doesn’t just become a paperboy (and by the way there were very few paper girls – this was not sexist and not that girls of  the 50’s and 60’s were afraid to venture out in rain, snow or dark of night – they weren’t allowed by their parents because this wasn’t “good” for them“ – time has proven this to be a profound mistake.)

 THE DAILY REPUBLICAN – the title did not refer to the party but to the form of government established for our nation and it was the one and only local paper.  The chief scribe for our daily, except Sunday, garbage wrapper was the high authority who chose those he thought worthy to deliver “his” paper.  Most homes in town wanted their paper at “supper” time, and no misses or father would have nothing new to gripe about after dinner from their favorite chair.

Kirby was 6 feet plus tall in elementary school and was immediately added to the Daily’s team the same day he applied – the Editor decided he didn’t need a trial of his skills and assigned him a “route” near his home.  
Over the next 5 years Kirby added customers until he had over hundreds waiting for the sound of their paper hitting the screen door or...

A key component for a paperboy is the bike – which is my day was their only way of conveyance available to them – today our  paper persons have momma drive them around when it sprinkles or the temperature drops below 50 degrees.

Kirby’s bike was a hybrid put together from junked bikes he found around the neighborhood.  It had no fenders, a frame that look like a Schwinn brand and high handle bars that were vertical to match his tall frame.  The most striking aspect of the bike was the extended seat which accommodated Kirby long legs.  When he sat on the seat he could fully extend his legs all the way.  Kirby was the fastest rider I ever saw.  He would have burned up the Tour-de-France.

One didn’t actually see him ride by - he was a blur and the only evidence of his being there at all was the telltale sound of the paper hitting something.

But I get ahead of myself.  The routine of all paperboys goes like this.

They rush to the newspaper office after school and fight to be first or near first in line to get their allotment of papers.  Most get a small stack that was easy to handle.   Kirby got a five big stacks and immediately went to work.  
Paperboys throw the papers to save time as they ride by the customers houses.  They don’t deliver them neatly like the mailman.  They wing them in the general direction of the front door or sometimes toward a special place requested by the customer.  Winging them requires that they be rolled as they come flat and impossible to toss.   Each paper is rolled and fastened with a red rubber band that seems to have been made for this purpose.

  Kirby was a master roller upper.  His hands flashed as he attacked his piles of papers – time was essential and being on time meant better tips when he made his Saturday rounds to “collect” his bounty.

The rolled papers were stacked vertically into a bright orange canvas bags with the label of the DAILY REPUBLICAN in big black letters – these bags were proudly hung on the handlebars nearest the tossing hand.  Having a paperboy bag was a badge of pride for this small group of entrepreneurs – they were thought of by their peers as the chosen few.  They were kids with a job and not beholden to the largesse, whims or punishments of parents.  

Back to Kirby.  All of his preparation led up to the delivery.  Each boy had his own method of throwing the paper as he biked by the customers home.   And it took practice to achieve consistent accuracy while pedaling and steering with only one hand – while going at a “breakneck” speed.

Kirby didn’t just throw the papers – he had turned this task into an art form.  Most boys use the “across the body right hand vertical slinger.  Kirby had mastered that he first day.  Like a jazz musician he prided himself on his tossing improvisation.  Sometimes he used the underhand hurler.  Next house behind zinging one from his back.  Next he let one fly from under his leg – the most difficult and dangerous of all paper recognized paper tossing techniques.

Each late afternoon my grandmother would pause her household chores when she heard Kirby’s fierce peddling a block away.  She waited for the “thunk” of the Daily as he slammed it into her front door.  Occasionally however she would hear it bang on the roof which would always result in a loud curse – “Dammit Kirby slow down…you put it on my roof again.”

These wayward throws seemed to only happen when Kirby was off his schedule – I surmised when he was very late that he had to serve detention for a minor school misdemeanor which put him an hour behind his routine.

My everlasting memory of Kirby will last forever.

Going to the shoot some hoops at the playground I saw him hurtling toward me.  He was much later than usual and peddling faster than ever – going at a rate worthy of a Guiness Record.  He was riding without using his hands to steer and tossing papers with both hands, firing left and right and actually hitting some of his customer’s lawns, some not so close.

 As he passed me he stopped firing for a moment to say “Hi Cal” – and then it happened.  His foot slipped off one pedal and he slid off the seat and straddled the bar between his legs.  This caused him to uttered a desperate scream that still makes my hair stand on end when I think of it.  I imagine the pain as his private parts rolled wildly on the frame of the bouncing bike.  His arms started to fail like a windmill and his long legs shot out sideways – but he didn’t crash. Somehow he regained control, plopped back on his seat and without stopping to attend to his body or injured pride he continued on his appointed rounds.

This indeed was a real pro, a Master Paperboy named Kirby.