Life in the Ville by Jimmy Del Ponte

Just call me Jimmy Two Times. I had the pleasure of having breakfast last week with five other Somerville guys, most in my age group, give or take a few years. We had a breakfast /meeting at the Moccia family’s beautifully renovated Ball Square Café.

Some Somerville Good Fellows.

A photo of the six of us was posted on Facebook and someone commented that it looked like a scene from Goodfellas. Then a wisenheimer friend of mine, who’s not that far behind me in age, said we looked more like Oldfellas! I have to say, that it was a funny remark.

The comments came in and so did a bunch of the most popular quotes from the movie Goodfellas. My favorite, of course, was Jimmy Two Times, who said everything twice. “I’m gonna get the papers, get the papers.”

It was a great get together and I posted the photo for you to look at. The “get the papers” quote made me think back to my days delivering newspapers in Somerville in the late 60’s – early 1970’s.

Today, if you have any daily newspaper delivered, it’s usually by a person in a car flinging it out the window. I’ve seen them and they are pretty accurate. The real pros are the ones that don’t even stop the car. They just throw while they go. It’s quite a difference from when my friends and me delivered newspapers as teenagers.

Mr. Abe Learner was the boss. “Better get going” was one of Abe’s favorite sayings as he tried to get us out to start delivering our papers. I’ll never forget his gravelly voice and his constant cigarette smoking.

The former site of Davis Square News.

All my friends had paper routes down at Abe’s, including a couple of young ladies. Abe’s wife’s name was Stella and she was a soft-spoken, pleasant lady. Abe was all business. The office of The Davis Square News Agency was on the block at the corner of Cutter and Highland Ave. The block that now houses Opa Greek Yeeros (368) Maximum Hesh, and the former infamous Kay and Chips restaurant.

Charlie was known as “Charlie Bay State,” because that was the name of his route (Bay State Ave. and surrounding streets). I was “Francesca,” because I had the Francesca Ave. route which included a few other close streets. Mike was ” Orchard,” which included Gorham and Elmwood Streets.

He would say, “Hey, Francesca, fold those papers and get going!” I don’t think he ever called me by my name. I delivered The Boston Globe and The Record American (The Wretched American) and afternoon Herald Traveler.

1968 Boston Traveler.

We would head over to the office, get our papers, and start folding them and putting elastics around them. Our hands got filthy from the ink. We would then pack them into a large white canvas bag and sling it over our shoulder. You would leave your bike parked outside. If you had a large basket, like I did, you would pack the papers into that. I remember wiping out a few times on my bike because the basket was so heavy and hard to balance and steer.

I think a lot of my friends my age have shoulder issues from lugging those paper sacks. Lots of kids stood outside businesses or on traffic islands hawking their papers. Some kids would regularly go into the barrooms to sell papers. One kid who worked for Abe graduated from delivering to selling papers in front of The Waldorf Cafeteria, where Mike’s is now. That was a sweet deal.

Sundays were grueling. Thick papers full of ads and other inserts. We had to assemble them and pack them into a rickety, splintery wooden pushcart. We’d push those clunky carts from street to street and house to house in rain, snow, and heat.

1970 Record American.

I thought I had 15 extra Sunday papers one week and instead of bringing them back to the office I dumped them down the railroad tracks near Y-Not variety on Willow Ave. Another paperboy saw me and ratted me out. Turned out that they weren’t extra at all and I had completely skipped an entire street. I was bagged. I had to pay for the dumped papers, buy new ones, and deliver them to the missed customers.

It was a lot of responsibility for a teenager, and besides preparing and delivering the papers we had to collect the payment and hope for decent tips. I had to pay a guy who lived at the top of my street when I dented his aluminum screen door with a poorly flung Boston Globe.

Once you got in the groove, it was a great way for a young kid to earn some decent money. I’d like to thank Abe for giving me the job that helped pay for my mahogany Gibson SG electric guitar.

I also delivered The Somerville Journal on Thursdays like a lot of other Somerville kids back then.

That’s how a reference to the movie Goodfellas sparked a memory. By the way, the six Somerville guys in the photo met for a reason. Stay tuned to this column for more information. In the meantime, I’m gonna go home and get my shoeshine box.