The magic of paper delivery

Quick Note: The photo above has nothing to do this post. I can't find any other newspaper-related photos so the beautiful building of the beautiful New York Times will have to do.

I was never a paper-deliverer growing up. My parents subscribed to the Denver Post, which appeared magically on our driveway. It was always neatly rolled and tightly encased in a plastic tubed-shaped bag. The method to which it was delivered will always be shrouded in mystery. 

When I started working at newspapers myself, the method of paper delivery was still a mystery. I have no idea how the Mountain Mail or the Goodlettsville Ledger were delivered. I started getting an inkling about the paper delivery at the Monitor. One of my last good memories of the place was when members of the pressroom volunteered to deliver a Christmas edition due to circulation department being short staffed. The Managing Editor expressed her awe at the Sports Editor's ability to fling the paper, with dead-on accuracy, out the car window, across the car's hood and onto the driveway. 

It wasn't till I began working at the Post that I experienced paper delivery myself. I am the substitute. In the early days I'd head into the back the Post Office to looked for our papers packaged with yellow plastic ties and haul the stacks to my car. The plastic ties were an obstacle. When carrying stacks of newspapers, they bite into your fingers, and they will shred the fragile newsprint if you forget to bring scissors to cut them. Delivering papers is a bit of a numbers game, too. We get a set amount for the racks in town so you need to make sure you distribute them correctly or risk running out before you reach all the racks.

Calculations aside, putting together a paper is a magical thing. Some weeks producing a weekly print edition does seem to defy all logic or reasoning. Like all art it can be a mystery. I start working on the newest edition every Friday so by the following Thursday, I often feel like I know everything I need to know about it. Except for the sounds. When the papers are delivered, there is something about the crinkle of freshly creased newsprint or the soft whacking of the door to the rack outside the office when someone reaches in to grab a paper. I can't explain it but it is magic.