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1 MUSINGS OF A FORMER NEWSPAPER CARRIER by Lewis Zandbergen Newspaper carriers haven't changed much in the last five or six decades, perhaps even the last cen­ tury; boys and girls no longer hawk broadsheets from street corners for mere pennies but those who have delivered door-to-door have been a familiar sight on municipal streets for many many years. A new bicycle was the carrot dangled before me when I delivered newspapers in what seems like another lifetime. In what I imagine was a common scenario, the pittance made from a couple of hours walking through all kinds of weather, rarely came close to making the funds necessary to pay for that CCM; I would probably have done just as well had a I staked out a corner. Several routes took me through Stirling streets back in the early 1960s. However, what seemed like a heavy burden those many decades ago has benefited me in a way I now realize is invaluable. It provided me with an intimate knowledge of Stirling's streets and provides me with a fairly accurate mental record of our village's immediate past. One of my routes took me from James Street, the location of the village dam at the east section of town, to Green Street at the village's western end. It was a route of over 100 papers, and took the better part of those few hours between school's end and supper. The Intelligencer would be delivered to a central drop point each day; in Stirling it happened to be a village garage, a building now home to a hairstyl­ ing salon on the southwest corner of James and Mill Streets. We carriers would gather there and break open the bundles then transfer the papers to our can­ vas bags. The Wednesday edition was the worst for it was almost double the normal size because of the many full-page ads touting the upcoming weekend's bargains at IGA, Simpson's Sears and Eatons. Not only was it fun to hang around the service sta­ tion until the papers arrived but the cars parked there often served as convenient "loading docks": slap a bundle on the hood of a '58 Chevy and load with ease, never stooping once to load from the ground. However, that little convenience was quickly stopped cold by one irate owner who waited until I had re­ moved the twine holding my bundle together; he jumped into his car, and drove off, not returning until he'd "spread" the newspapers around the village. You live and you learn. That 100-paper route took me down Mill Street dropping a paper here and one there. There were sev­ eral private residences left on the south side of Mill in those days and I delivered to all of them. But most of my customers on Mill Street were businesses. There Lamb's television and radio store, the hotel, Mouck's hardware, Johnson's Bakery, Bartlett's Gro­ cery and Egg Grading, Cairns shoe store, Martin's Insurance, Whiteheads restaurant ... of those most were great--there was always a friendly word or two and collections were a breeze. But Mr. Martin was another story. A dignified and imposing gentleman, Mr. Martin was also old-fash­ ioned and a bit scary to most of us. In the 1960s Stirling's businesses closed Mondays; some took a half day off and some took the whole day. Mr. Martin took the whole day so his office on Mill Street was closed. On Mondays he wanted his paper delivered to his house which was on the comer of Front Street and Allan Street--almost the other end of my route. Of course, being a carefree kid whose mind was not always on his job, I would invariably forget the odd time and leave the paper at his office. If he caught me going by his home without stopping on Mondays, he'd know I left the paper at his office and I'd be in for a stern reprimand. Collection day was another issue altogether: as I said, the paper was to be delivered to his office every day, except Monday, but collections were to be done at his home on Thursdays, unless he happened to be in the office on Thursday in which event he'd pay the week's bill there--thoroughly confusing to a twelve-year-old. Once I'd reached Whitehead's restaurant I'd stop for a Coke and an order of french fries or a bag of chips and pass a few minutes with other carriers. Then it was on to Front Street. My most vivid memory of Front Street was the block which stretched from the News Argus building to the Henry Street comer. This was a block which housed, among other things, the offices for the creamery and cold storage. There was nothing remarkable about these buildings in those days but I wish they were still there. Through the windows of one office one could spy a rack of rifles; old muskets and flintlocks we youngsters admired and wished for fondly so we could emulate one of our heroes: Daniel Boone. I could easily have spent a half hour gazing in wonder at those magnificent examples of a gunsmith's art. Across the street on the northwest comer of Front and North stood Noble's Drug Store. It was for many years a landmark because of its unique entrance: the front door of the building was set into the comer at an angle. A heavy square brick column supported the building's comer. Next door was one of the original homes of Bird's IGA, Bob Patterson's men's wear and the old Mieklejohn Hardware (Hatton's hard­ ware store in my youth). Bateman's ladies wear, St. Pierre's appliance store and several other businesses were also on that stretch.was 75