BEYOND WINTER: The
Irrelevant Reminiscing of An Old Man—
[Another personal reminiscence story, 765 words instead of my usual 500, so do something else if you’re pressed for time.]
Helen and I have coffee and muffins and talk for an hour or two at mid-morning. Recently she asked me how I knew so early that I wanted to be a newspaper man. This is what I told her…
It was because of
newspapers themselves, and WWII, and Ernie Pyle, and the radio, and my big
sister, Mary V.
NEWSPAPERS IN THE CITY
We moved to Indianapolis when I was four. The Times
was an evening paper and delivered to our front porch by an impressive grown-up
of thirteen or fourteen years of age. That was my first inkling that I wanted
to be a newspaper man. I wanted to be a grown-up and deliver the paper,
because…
…I knew the newspaper was important, because as soon as
it hit the front porch, everyone wanted to see it. Including me, when I learned
that there were comic pages. You didn’t even have to be able to read to enjoy
them.
More importantly, it was the source of news about my
beloved uncles, who were fighting the fascists and dictators around the world.
Most of the time, we weren’t even sure where they were, which meant we needed
news from every front in the war.
In my quest to be a news boy, I made a deal, when I was
about eight, with the news girl—a real rarity then—who delivered The Times
on East Oakland Ave. In the winter, it was dark by the time she got to our
street, the last one on her route. I would meet her at the New York Street end and
take the requisite number of papers for my side of the street. I knew every
house that got a Times. She delivered on the other side. When we got to
Washington Street, if she had an extra, she would give it to me. I would go
across Washington St. to where the day shift was leaving the Mallory plant and
sell my paper to the Mallory’s office lady in the red coat, for a nickel.
Journalism was obviously the way to get rich!
.webp)
NEWSPAPERS IN THE COUNTRY
When I was ten, we moved to a primitive farm three miles
outside Oakland City. No newspaper delivery there. I think it was The
Courier that we got, the day after publication, brought in the mail by the
rural route carrier. Yes, it was a day late, sometimes two, but so what? It was
news to us, and the source of baseball statistics that allowed me to argue with
the Cardinals and Cubs fans on the school bus.
More importantly, it was contact with the outside world. I
desperately wanted a life that was more than hoeing weeds and gathering eggs
and chopping kindling. Yes, I still wanted news of The Phantom in the
comic section, but I wanted to be part of that world the newspaper told about.
.webp)
ERNIE PYLE
Ernie was from Indiana. We were proud of him. We were
told that he wrote the truth about the real soldiers, the ones fighting every
day, like my uncles. I wanted to be a war correspondent who told the truth
about men like my uncles. I wanted to be Ernie Pyle.
THE BIG STORY
A radio program from 1947-55, each week it dramatized how
some newspaper reporter had gotten his [always “his” in those days] big story.
It was so heroic and romantic. I knew I’d never get to the major leagues [too
slow] or med school [too squeamish] but I could write. I wanted to be the guy
who got the big story.
MARY V
My sister, four and a half years older than I, was the
most important person in my world. In a family that was chaotic at best, she
was an oasis of calm. Anything she did, I wanted to do, and she was on the
staff of the high school newspaper, Oak Barks.
Since high school in Oakland City started with 8th grade, and since I was a mid-year kid [starting in January instead of September because of my birthday] I got to share one semester with Mary V before she graduated. When Alva Cato and Grace Robb, our class sponsors, asked if anyone wanted to be the 8th grade reporter for Oak Barks, my hand was up first [and probably alone].
I think I would have been a good reporter, and I would have gotten retired, just barely, before newspapers became extinct. Yes, I got sidetracked into being a preacher, but I still got to tell The Big Story.
John Robert McFarland
“If I had to choose
between newspapers and government, I’d take newspapers.” Thomas Jefferson
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