Days of the Paper Routes and Local News

The largest newspaper in Michigan was created in 1831, but renamed The Detroit Free Press in 1835. Combined with the Sunday edition—the Sunday Free Press—the daily paper gave us national news, outstanding editorials, and my favorite, Sunday comics.

But for local news, families and businesses in Pontiac and the Heights also subscribed to the Pontiac Press (renamed the Oakland Press in 1972), started in 1953. Every evening except Sunday, the papers were delivered by industrious “paper boys” or “paper girls,” and like the mail, “Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds,” (William M. Kendall).

I know, because my brother was one of them.

His route was grueling, about five miles of loops along Grey Road, up North Squirrel, Squirrel Court, Tebeau Court, Parklawn, and back to the College Heights mobile home park every night (except Sunday). Worse were collection nights, since some people would forget, not be home, or promise “catch me next time,” although the paper carriers had to pay the total bill.

I helped him once. The night was cold and miserable, a mixture of sleet and rain, and Mom thought I might make his route easier. I’m not sure I did, but my respect for his labor shot high when I shared the length of the route, and the work it took to deliver each paper, dry, to the expected spot at each house.

Many of you already know this, since many of you mentioned earlier that you were also “paper boys” or “paper girls” for the Pontiac Press.

Readers took the deliveries for granted. My neighbors studied the obituaries, fathers read the want ads and sports pages, mothers read news and local events, and we kids, of course, read the comics.

Everybody read Dear Abby.

The paper covered Pontiac and Auburn Heights, as well as Oakland County, but only Pontiac and the Heights were of interest in our neighborhood.

For our family, the Pontiac Press was also famous for one year’s baking contest. Applicants had to prepare, as I recall, their favorite recipes on site, and the year’s winner was photographed and the recipe printed after the judging. There she stood, in the black and white photo, beaming, while “proudly displaying her tray of delicious nut farts.”

A never-to-be-forgotten article.

But the cookies went on to family fame since my brother included them in his annual Christmas cookie baking, and they were eagerly anticipated and devoured.

To the Pontiac Press and every evening delivery, my highest regard and admiration.

And to the creator of the “delicious nut farts,” our gratitude.