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John Long

Recent columns

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From the RoundTable blog

Ever hear of a carrier's address?

I thought for this festive season I'd leave the weightier matters of the news aside and, assuming my role as a local historian, recall an almost forgotten holiday tradition.

In bygone days, the newspaper carrier boy typically received no pay for his daily deliveries. But between Christmas and New Year's he would appeal to his customers for a tip, usually a dime or quarter, by presenting them with a clever poem known as a carrier's address.

The tradition dates to the early 1700s in New England, and continued nationwide into the 20th century. Few examples survive today because the addresses, usually printed on ephemeral newsprint, were generally crumpled up and tossed after you gave the kid his well-earned dime. But the Salem Museum has a collection of some two dozen spanning a half-century, forming a fascinating and underappreciated body of unique folk poetry.

Carriers' addresses varied greatly in quality and content, but they all have one common feature: an appeal for a tip. "I want a little pocket chink to help me through the times; if I deserve support, you think, then fork me out the dimes!" (1854)

Some addresses made reference to the news of the previous 12 months, the sort of year-in-review synopsis we still see each December. It was also a reminder that in the days before TV and radio the newspaper -- carried by the diligent boy now seeking a dime -- was the only source of news. In effect, the carrier was saying, "Here is a list of events you would know nothing about were it not for my efforts!"

Such faraway happenings as the Crimean and Boer Wars, the death of Queen Victoria, and a 1902 volcanic eruption in the Caribbean are referenced in various Salem addresses. Closer to home, election results, major strikes and Virginia political debates were recorded in amateur verse. President McKinley's assassination was lamented in a 1901 address: "Then our own land was shadowed in darkness and gloom, when the head of our nation was borne to the tomb."

In other examples, the newsboys stayed closer to Main Street, listing local businesses and hinting at tantalizing gossip of the previous year. Some poems poked fun at certain professions: "We've lawyers with legal acumen as great as ever cheated a man out of home or estate." (1879); "Hell or Hades, 'tis all the same. The politicians fan the flame." (1885) Since the youthful author wanted a tip from the very people he satirized, he obviously was confident the jabs would be received charitably.

One class of professionals the carriers assiduously avoided lampooning was their own bosses. Some of my favorite carrier addresses sing praises to the local paper itself, the institution that made the tradition possible and necessary.

"So in this merry mundane show, the local press fills up a gap. For otherwise how would you know about the dashing Mrs. Knapp, or how the sweet Miss Furbelow led off the dance with Mr. Strauss, at Miss Delightful Jones' house?" (1903).

It's known that some editors and owners of the papers penned addresses for their carriers, so certainly they approved of the custom. Naturally a little back-patting and free advertising would be in order.

The tradition of carriers' addresses began to fade out in the early 20th century. The latest example from Salem is from 1904, and I've seen one for the venerable old Roanoke Times from 1911. Few people today know that such a custom once was a delightful part of Christmas and New Year holidays.

Back in the days when this paper arrived in the afternoon and was thrown on your porch by a teenage kid, I was a paper carrier in Southwest Roanoke. At Christmas, my manager would give me a pack of cards with a benign "Seasons Greetings!" and a line to sign my name. Most customers responded with a generous tip or gift. I had no idea I was participating in the last vestige of an old tradition, and it never occurred to me to write a poem.

Long, who teaches history at Roanoke College and is the director of the Salem Museum, is a Roanoke Times columnist.