Newspapers & Radio
Mom and Aunt Shirley reading papers on the beach. c.1941-42
Home Entertainment
When I was eight years old, our family’s home entertainment was limited to reading, being read to and, occasionally, playing simple card games with my parents and Jock. Dad also introduced both of us to checkers and chess. There was no television.
The first time I became aware of radio entertainment was in 1944 when the family had just moved into its new home on Jefferson Street. America was in the midst of its “Golden Age of Radio.” Even in the 1940s, the country had fewer than 900 U.S. broadcasting stations. In many households across the country families would often congregate in the evening after dinner to sit around the radio listening to a favorite program. Most “soaps’ consisted of 25-minute long family entertainment programs such as “The Shadow,” “Amos ‘n’ Andy,” “The Green Hornet,” “The Great Gildersleeve,” and “Sky King.” Once a week our family would sit in a semi-circle directly in front of our post-WWII, upright, mahogany, vacuum tube Philco radio with a green tuning eye. Located in the corner of the dining room, it served as a handsome piece of furniture. Jock’s and my favorite program was “The Lone Ranger.”
Occasionally, as a family we would listen to “Your Hit Parade,” a radio program that presented what were believed to be the country’s most popular songs. The program was sponsored by American Tobacco Lucky Strike cigarettes. It was then I first heard Frank Sinatra, America’s great crooner.
Opera was first introduced to me by my father. He loved listening, full blast to N.B.C.’s The Metropolitan Opera Saturday’s full-length, live, matinee radio broadcasts sponsored by The Texaco Company (oil). The program became the longest-running, continuous, classic music program in radio history. It wasn’t until college that I became more interested in opera.
Advertisements were strictly limited and nowhere as prevalent as today. I recall a Wheaties (cereal) advertisement in particular that was aimed directly at children. The ad paid for the “Sky King” program. The item was described as an “atomic ring.” Peering through a viewer (designed in the shape of a bomb and mounted on a ring), one could see sparkling flashes supposedly representing atomic fusion within. The period was 1945-46, not long after the bombing of Hiroshima, Japan. The cost of the ring: one Wheaties box top along with twenty-five cents mailed by the sponsoring company. Today, this ring has become a much sought-after collector’s item.
News Of The Day
Compared with today, in the 1940s radio news broadcasts in the United States were only in their early stages. Daily, weekly, and monthly publications served the public as its primary sources for both local and world news. By the end of World War II, the estimated circulation of U.S. weekday publications and daily newspapers had grown to 40 million. Most American households depended on at least one, often more, daily newspaper. By 1986, the growth of America’s daily newspaper circulation would peak at over 62 million before its eventual decline.
It wouldn’t be until the late 1940s when television was introduced for the first time to America’s darling medium.
Alexandria Gazette
Our Jefferson Street house was located at the south edge of “Old Town” Alexandria. Across the street was mostly open-space extending south along the Potomac River and beyond Jones Point. The fields, woods, swamps, and overgrowth along the river’s edge provided Jock and me with a world-class playground. In stark contrast to, and directly in front of our house, was a single ramshackle bungalow in which Jock’s and my new-found friend, David Grover, lived with his mother and sister. Those who knew David recognized him as a vibrant, energetic yet caring, 11-year old boy from a poor, white Virginia family. Many believed he was the family’s only breadwinner. In addition to attending public school, he took odd jobs, including delivering two daily newspaper routes: the “Washington Evening Star” and the “Alexandria Gazette.”
It was late in 1946, when David encouraged me to take on a newspaper delivery route. His argument was simple: delivering newspapers was both fun and could be lucrative. Having discussed this proposition with Dad, and he in turn with David, we all agreed I would give the job a shot. I was nine and in 4th grade.
The “Alexandria Gazette” was reputed to be the “oldest (1784) continuous, in-print newspaper in America.” At its loading docks just off King Street, David introduced me to the “delivery boss,” who knew David and his good reputation. Contrary to his boss’ initial negative opinion of me (too small and too young), David convinced him otherwise. A trial run was agreed to. I signed on then and there. Proudly, I received my own over-the-shoulder, canvas, newspaper bag with bold letters, “Alexandria Gazette - 1784” emblazoned on top of the company’s logo. I was told to report on time the next day to the paper’s loading docks. There, with my wagon in tow, I would take delivery of my stack of papers every evening of the week. Sundays were expected. My route consisted of 50 houses (no apartments) located on either side of Washington Street, just north of King Street. It was a typical newspaper route. A few scattered addresses lay along King Street itself.
My new boss was very clear in his final instructions to me. “Edgar, I expect you to turn over to me $144 in cash on the second Monday of each calendar month. The rest of the cash is yours, including tips. Got it?” To me, $36 a month represented a frightening sum of money in contrast to my monthly allowance of $1.00.
David later explained the math to me. Fifty newspapers at fifteen cents apiece, delivered six days a week amounted to $180 each month. The company always included five extra free papers to my daily count. These were mine to do with as I saw fit. David stressed the good news. I would get to keep $36 a month, or 20%, of the $180 collected. That amounted to $9 per week. To me, $36 dollars a month represented a small fortune. It was a cash-and-carry business. As I recall, there were no deductions from the money I earned. No Social Security, no Federal or Commonwealth taxes, no union dues, etc.
Without pausing, David was quick to add that some of my customers would give me tips. A competent, polite newsboy might earn tips as much as 50% of his take-home pay. After a few months on the job, my total monthly earnings amounted to more than $50. It wasn’t long before Dad introduced me to a savings bank where, in time, I would further sharpen my new-found business acumen.
I soon discovered that one of my two most memorable customers was John L. Lewis, the “fire-eyed” president of the United Mine Workers of America (1920 to 1960). His grand house was on Washington Street. Occasionally, I would see him returning home in a chauffeured limousine. Though I always said hello on seeing him, he never once acknowledged me. And, he never tipped me.
The other memorable customer was the one-time vaudeville (now the movie theater “Ingomar Theater” located on King Street. Instead of a cash tip, the theater’s management issued me an annual pass, “good for two,” which permitted me to see all of its movies for free. The “Ingomar” was my favorite tipper of all. And, it was the first time I was able to see a lot of exciting films without my parents’ knowledge.
On the other hand, I had to deliver papers to a number of elderly women who, rather than giving me cash tips, would offer me a piece of cake, a couple of cookies, or a glass of lemonade. In some cases, I could see that for some, money even for a newspaper, was hard to come by. But for most, receiving their newspaper each day was important and a ritual.
David taught me everything he knew about the newspaper delivery business. He reminded me that even before the war, Alexandria had begun to grow in population. Then, after the war, everyone wanted their own newspaper delivered to their front door. The “Gazette’s” circulation was growing in leaps and bounds. In fact, David’s route had doubled to almost 100 subscribers during his last two years. He, as with all newspaper boys, was responsible for increasing his remarkable subscriber count.
When I came across a customer or two unwilling to pay their bills, I called on David. Over the years he had developed considerable experience with bill-collecting. I learned how to bounce a basketball in front of, or occasionally against, a delinquent customer’s door until he would pay up to get rid of me. Soon I learned to carry sufficient pocket-change to break a customer’s large bill. I even learned to identify my customers by face. In this manner, I could approach an errant customer. Most everyone wanted their daily newspaper, regularly and promptly. In all, delivering newspapers was hard but good work. Of course, the money was great.
I had to resign from the “Gazette” in late 1947, when, surprisingly, Dad announced that our family was scheduled to leave for China that December.
On our return from Taiwan in early 1950 and with help from David, I was able to reconnect with the “Gazette.” I was then only 12 years old and had reentered Sidwell Friends (7th grade). As our family almost immediately was reassigned to Rome, Italy, once again I had to resign from the paper after only a few months of delivering over 100 newspapers a day. At that time my route included mostly apartments located west on Jefferson Street and east of St. Patrick’s. Shortly before leaving that summer for Pine Island Camp near Waterville, ME, Dad and I convinced Jock to take over my newspaper route. I do not recall remembering any stories about Jock’s newspaper experiences.
