Duckman is back in his hometown of Urbana, Illinois, these days after his brief stay in Ohio.
I work for a newspaper now. I worked for one back in the day, as well! Duckman likes to keep one foot in the industry of printed ink! Now I write columns for the Ford County Chronicle. In the past, I delivered papers for two different companies, the Columbus Dispatch in Ohio being the first during my younger years. Delivering for The News-Gazette in Champaign-Urbana came during middle school and lasted through high school.
When I moved back to Urbana from Ohio at age 12, I signed up for a job after school delivering The News-Gazette. This was around 1994, and the newspapers were delivered in the afternoon, usually by local children. I had the route that went through a couple of the “state” streets, just west of Urbana High School. It’s the area jokingly referred to as the “professors’ ghetto” because of how many employees from the University of Illinois lived there.
I delivered to Indiana and Michigan streets going east to west and parts of Busey and Lincoln avenues on the north and south sides. Carle Park and the Urbana High School track were visible when walking my route. I would zig-zag up and down the streets, tossing papers and watching the world.
Having to move around to different schools was hard for me. I had been to a new school in four consecutive years. I had trouble meeting people and making friends because I felt like I would just be whisked away at any moment. Delivering the papers helped me focus on normalcy and feel like I fit in. It was hard to feel like I belonged anywhere at that point in time. It can be hard for teenagers to find themselves.
I became a part of Urbana because of the newspaper. If it weren’t for me delivering, would the legend of the Duckman have grown into what it is today?
Having this small job let me be part of the neighborhood and community. I had to memorize the names and addresses of the people who lived around me. I had to knock on the doors to collect money for the subscriptions, and this taught me how to be polite and assertive. Everyone knew me as the weird paperboy who was always dressed in black with sunglasses; they also knew me as “Mrs. Jean’s grandson” and told me to stay in school and behave.
I liked working because it allowed me money, but I also liked the satisfaction of learning how to work and be a part of the world. I needed money to buy the comic books I wanted but could not afford. While the route didn’t pay a lot, it did pay enough for me to buy a couple issues of Wolverine and the X-Men every week.
I enjoyed being a paperboy in Urbana. I wandered through the neighborhood, tossing papers, enjoying the seasons as they changed. I always noticed things that no one else did — the different crows that followed me from tree to tree or the squirrels running mindlessly. I liked being able to walk through the neighborhood and see all the different kinds of trees planted around the block. I liked the time to myself to think.
I picked up lots of other little side jobs because people knew me from the neighborhood. I was asked to rake and bag leaves and to cut grass. This was another way for me to make extra money. My grandmother always made sure I donated a percentage of the money I earned to charity. She told me that as long as we give to others, we will have it to give. This is a way of thinking that I try to incorporate into my life today.
When I was in middle school, it was a simple task to walk directly to my home — down Indiana Avenue to my grandparents’ house — and eat a snack and then roll up my newspapers. Once the advertisements were stuffed, the biggest on Thursday, I would strap on my satchel full of papers and get ready to throw. I had to have a strong back to carry the bag and a decent arm, too, so I could get the papers up safely onto people’s porches. No one wanted a wet paper; I had to hit the mark to keep them safely on the porch but not throw too hard to avoid smashing the window on people’s front doors.
My district manager at the paper was a strange man named Dave. He was a nice guy, but he always reeked of cigarettes, like he had just been smoking in his car, and my grandmother hated letting him into the house. He would always come over at awkward times, like dinner, and interrupt whatever we had going on to tell me I wasn’t using enough rubber bands or that Mrs. so-and-so hadn’t received her paper — when I know she had. I had never seen a man with hands that were stained dark yellow from cigarettes. I would have thought he would have ink stains instead.
I have always wanted to be a writer, and I would think of short stories during my walks and then, when I got home, proceed to write them down. Sometimes I made drawings to go with the stories. Urbana always felt like it had art and stories flowing into its life force. I wish I had a job like this today, where I just walk and deliver the news to people, stop and say hello to my neighbors.
Support local newspapers. They tell the stories of our lives. The people who work for them are part of our community.
They can make a difference by spreading knowledge and information about the problems and solutions the community needs to be made aware of — like Duckman’s new opinion column next week!
Brian Beshears is an
Urbana resident and was a onetime Urbana High
School, Urbana Middle School and Leal Elementary
School classmate of Ford County Chronicle Publisher
Will Brumleve. And, yes,
Duckman will rap for cat food! He can be reached at quackatron@gmail.com.