Elbert with the
Abilene Reporter-News.
In the fall of 1950, while Dad was working for the Burton-Lingo Lumber Yard in Merkel, Dad's brother-in-law, Buster Hester, gave dad his route for the Abilene Reporter-News in Merkel, throwing 800-900 papers twice daily. Later, dad enjoyed telling newspaper stories. Dad had to walk into a downtown Merkel alley to drop some papers at a store. A couple of dogs with irresponsible owners menaced him regularly. Dad took his pistol with him and solved the problem. Later, an officer said, "Elbert, did you hear any shots this morning?" Answer: "No. Didn't hear much."
Dad did so well at Merkel, that Mr. Ross, the manager, asked dad if he wanted the newspaper route in Colorado City because it had 1300-1400 papers. Robert Lloyd was older, in poor heath, and wanted to retire from his paper route in Colorado City. Dad moved there to learn the route. For Dad and Mom's first dinner at the Lloyd's, Hallie served red beans, cornbread, turnip greens, sweet milk, and sweet potato pie. Regularly, all four played the domino game, "42." Dad and Robert sometimes played Karoms. Promptly at 8:00, Mr. Lloyd would announce, "Time for paper people to be in bed."
While single, Dad rented from Minnie Wulfjen at 805 Walnut, Colorado City. Dad and mom first rented an apartment at 313 East 6th, Colorado City. Later they bought a house at 745 East 9th. Often Mom folded, while Dad drove his Willys jeep and threw papers left-handed, both sides of the street. When Mom didn't come, Dad drove with his left knee, rubber banded the papers, and threw left-handed. Once Mr. Lloyd who was riding and folding papers doubted that Dad could throw his paper and hit a grumpy customer who was sleeping soundly in a front yard cot. Dad passed the accuracy test. When dad finished the route, the phone rang: "Cancel my paper."
Then there was the Fourth of July when Dad felt people, including him, should be celebrating, not throwing and reading papers. He watched from the bridge until the bundles of papers disappeared, glub-glub-glub, into the Colorado River.
And then this dog kept chasing Dad's jeep down a gravel road. A cherry bomb throw onto the gravel immediately under the dog's belly fixed that. Spraying gravel and "Boom!" Never saw the dog again.
Dad knew exactly where his papers went. A local reporter for Colorado City called to say, "No paper." Dad told him precisely where, under a bush, to find the errant paper. Called back. "Still no paper. Bring me one." Dad checked and the paper lay exactly where he had told the customer; the man hadn't looked. Dad threw all four left over papers on the customer's porch. The phone rang: "Cancel my paper."
Dad didn't mind throwing papers, but he hated collecting $1.25 monthly from so many customers. "Sorry. Don't have the money. Come back later." In the Spring of 1954, Aunt Sue came to stay with Mom and watch son Steve while Mom delivered the papers because dad had two weeks of duty with the naval reserve. After a brief stint trying auto sales for a Floyd Wallace DeSoto Plymouth Dealership, the family moved in August to Sterling, Illinois. Seat covers.
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