Opinion | Paper route memories from a former reporter

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The first newspaper job I ever had was in 1962 in Watertown, S.D. I was a paperboy for the Minneapolis Tribune. I had the uptown route, meaning it was my job to deliver the Trib to local businesses (cafes, bars, banks, bakeries and people who lived in apartments above those establishments).

The Trib was a big deal in South Dakota in those days. My town, about 200 miles west of Minneapolis, had a daily local paper, the Watertown Public Opinion. But the morning Trib had a more global view. It was to Watertown what the New York Times was to Minneapolis.

The Trib also had a big sports section, especially on Sundays. The Twins and the Vikings were brand new to the Upper Midwest market. The Minnesota Gophers football team was of huge interest because in those years it was a national power. In ’62, the Gophers defeated UCLA in the Rose Bowl. Imagine it if you can: The Gophers were in the Rose Bowl just 63 years ago.

I was among about 20 kids whose job it was carry the news of the world to the Watertown elites, the people who had the interest and the money to have a big city newspaper delivered to their doorsteps.

Like most jobs it had its ups and downs. The big negative was rolling out of bed at 6 o’clock every morning to walk a few blocks to pick up my bundle of papers, which had arrived via truck from Minneapolis only an hour earlier. My job was especially daunting in the winter months when the wind would howl across the South Dakota prairies right down Broadway, the main street in Watertown. But my dog, Jet, and I were faithful carriers, always arriving at our bundle by 6:15.

And then Jet and I would hit the delivery route, my delivery bag getting lighter with each paper delivered.

The best was saved for last. On my route there was a bakery. I was to deliver the paper to the back entrance, which faced an alley. There were big windows at the back of the bakery and the aroma of freshly baked breads and rolls filled the air. There also was a sweet old woman who was one of the bakers. She kept an eye out for Jet and me. When we arrived she would greet us at the back door. I’d hand her the paper and most days she’d hand me a jelly roll.

Jet and I were both thrilled by this generosity. We’d share the jelly roll and head home.

I was reminded of my start in the newspaper business when I saw the story in the newspaper that at the end of this year the Minnesota Star Tribune will no longer be printed in Minneapolis. Instead, it will be printed in Iowa and trucked into our city. That means the print edition will be filled with old news, though the powers that be at the paper assure us that breaking news will be found online through the night and the following day.

I found the news of a Minneapolis paper being printed in Iowa distressing. But I also feel blessed to have spent six decades in the news business. There was that paperboy gig in South Dakota and later newsroom jobs in Boonville, Mo., and then Milwaukee, then St. Louis and, finally, the dream job in Minneapolis. Rumbling presses and newspapers headed to the hands of eager readers was always exciting and humbling.