DawgTalkers.net Forums Thread Like Summary - Sam Huff

As a twelve year boy delivering the Plain Dealer I remember Sam Huff.

Seven days a week 365 days a year I got up at 5:00 AM to deliver the paper. Before heading out I would read the sports page each morning during football season. This was 1960. Each week I would read how the opposing team would plan to stop Jim Brown.

Their plans always went poorly.

In those days the Giants and Browns were football royalty. When they faced each other it was about Sam Huff versus Jim Brown.

Tom Landry was the DC for the Giants. Sam Huff was either the defensive player of the year or was near the top. He was a great player.

JB knew all about Sam. He practiced hard to prepare how to win those battles. Of all the teams we played back in those days Huff and Giants were the one team that had some success against JB.

Sam Huff a true legend of the game RIP.

Funny stuff looking back.

For younger people even my grown kids. They can not relate.

My parents came from The Great Depression. My father was a WWII vet. Neither of my parents graduated from high school. They were working a 14.

They came from hard times. You don't go through that and think you deserve things. They passed it on. I spoiled my kids by comparison.

However, I did get the point across.They turned out great.

Short story turned long. Sorry to derail, the old "paper route" always takes me back.

The Cleveland Press set the tone for me to be a lifelong entrepreneur. So many lessons learned; responsibility, customer service, taking care of the cash, and yes -- dealing with the elements. When the city started it's great desegregation effort I was in seventh grade and getting bused across the city every day. The city was short on buses so my school day didn't start 'til 9:50... and I didn't get home 'til 5:00 or so. Once the school year started, I checked with every customer and let them no that the paper would be pretty late and offered to turn them over to another route close to mine, only one person cancelled. Days turned to night early and I was out in the frigid cold, dark, and howling wind on many days.

I had a couple Polish bars on my route and the old geysers in those places loved me. Many times I'd walk in out of the cold and see a Hot Chocolate waiting. "Got any extras?" Yes, I always had a few extras for sale, I added them to my order and usually sold all of them. Most of the old geysers would give me a quarter or fifty cents for a 15 cent paper. One dude would usually throw me a buck and say "keep the change, kid". All of my customers tipped well because I made sure the paper was exactly where they wanted it. Most paper boys were throwing papers at a porch, I was sliding them under a door. Christmas tips were always well over $100.

Those extra papers would come in handy because any new customers would get papers without me making them "actual" customers... 'til contest time came around lol. Once I had my bike stolen. I hustled my butt off and started signing up new customers. So many that I had to buy a few extra papers out of pocket for a couple weeks. The last few contests had a new bike as grand prize. Sure enough, the next one did too... and it was mine.

There was one old, grouchy, disabled lady on my route. I was nice as could be no matter how rude she was. She complained about what time I got there, complained if I knocked too hard (her request), complained if I didn't knock hard enough. One day she asked why I hadn't billed her for a couple weeks. She had been sick at the time. I told her I figured I would pick up the tab for a couple weeks since she was having a hard go of it. Soon I was bringing the paper in the house, heating up her tea, etc... I'd sit there every day and talk to her for a few minutes; she was lonely. She was always angry about one thing or another but I usually succeeded in getting her to cheer up and would get an occasional laugh out of her.

The last delivery before Christmas there was a note on the door for me. I knocked and there was no "come in". I opened the envelope and there was a note explaining that she had to cancel because she was going into a nursing home. She thanked me for taking such good care of her and told me I was like "the son she never had". I knocked again, no answer. There were tears in my eyes as I stared at a crisp $50 bill. I wanted to give it back. I think she knew that, so even the following week -- knock, knock, no answer. I never saw her again, she was gone and the house was for sale within weeks.

Life lessons for sure.

Monday through Friday I had about 35 customers.
Saturday maybe 10 more.
Sunday's about 70.

It had to be brutal hard rain to get driven. Rarely did I ask.

I walked carrying the papers. On Sundays I had a newspaper wagon with corral wood sides. In deep snow I pulled a sled.

There were times my hands were so cold I would go to delivery trucks and hold the exhaust pipe with my gloves.

I would get back on M-F and shovel the driveway so my father could get out. Then go to school.

Honestly, I was glad to have the route. It put money in my pocket. I bought stuff I wanted. Clothes etc. It made me fiercely independent.
I wanted to provide for myself. My home life was fine. My parents wonderful. I just felt it was up to me to make things happen. If I wanted something. I felt it was up to me to pay for it. Hard work and doing things for yourself was part of how I was raised.

I can't count the number of jobs I have had starting with that paper route. I paid my way through college. I worked when I was in school. I worked summer jobs. I did tons of temporary work. Worked during Christmas breaks. I worked in factories, bars, painting, landscaping, construction, labor, ranch work, airports, sales.

Once I bought a suitcase full of turquose and silver Indian jewlery in New Mexico. Brought it back to Cleveland and sold it to stores before Christmas.
Went to Juarez, Mexico bought a van load of Indian blankets and sold them in the Albuquerque flee market.
Crazy, when I think back on all that.