Toronto Globe and Mail - copy boy

After eight years of delivering the Toronto Star, it was time to look elsewhere for employment. I had dropped out of high school at 16 to deliver papers. My income for three hours a day was more than fulltime pay for some adults in the 1950's, so why bother finishing high school?

While scanning the help wanted ads in the Toronto dailies, found an ad in the Globe and Mail for a copy boy. It was late in 1959 and while the pay was slightly lower than my paper route income, it was the perfect job to keep me in the news biz.

I was shoveling snow outside our Parkside Drive home when called inside to answer a phone call from the Globe and Mail, then located at the northeast corner of King and York Streets. It was for an interview with Clark Davey, managing editor.

My first look at a major daily newspaper newsroom gave me goose bumps. It was right out of Front Page, with the clatter of teletype machines, typewriters and the buzz of the rim, where pneumatic tubes whisked copy to the pressroom.

While Toronto Star agency reps Robert "Bob" Britnell and Dwayne Howe were guiding factors at 22 Barton Street, Davey, who hired me, was the first of many Globe and Mail staffers to give a high school dropout guidance into his early 20's.

Copy boy duties at the Globe included sorting teletype machine stories and delivering them to news, sports, business etc., preparing the daily ticker tape news flashes seen on a sign above the Brown Derby at Yonge and Dundas Streets, cutting and pasting the daily stock market ticker quotes, lunch and dinner runs for editorial and sports staffers.

It was exciting to be among the first Canadians to learn of major international events as news bulletins came in on the teletype machines. Bulletins received as deadlines approached created quite a buzz in the newsroom.

One night in 1961, with the papers rolling off the presses and the newsroom staff heading for home, the distinct bell indicating a bulletin sounded. Late-night copy boy Sam Briggs read the bulletin, ran to a window that overlooked the parking lot and shouted at departing editors.

The editors scrambled back to their desks to stop the presses and revamp the front page to tell readers the Russians had launched the world's first manned space-flight, a 60-minute feat by Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin. It was the story of the year and Briggs got a bonus. (Photo at left: Briggs standing outside the Globe's teletype machine room)

In the early 1960's, the Globe and Mail had the ultimate sports department. Jim Vipond was sports editor and under his wing were legends in the making, Scott Young, Dick Beddoes, Trent Frayne, Lou Cauz and Jack Marks.

During a special event at the Lord Simcoe Hotel across the street, Vipond slipped me a $20 tip, which was almost a week's pay. Marks helped me tie my first tie. The flamboyant Beddoes never failed to impress with his colourful garb.

Web Anderson was on rewrite, Robert Turnbull was city editor, Hugh Thompson was entertainment editor, Bev Gray was travel editor, Charlie Oliver, aka Appas Tappas the race track writer, was police reporter, Al Dawson was news editor, Martin Lynch was on the rim.

It was Dawson who gave me sound advice that is applicable on any job: Never assume because it makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me."

I forget his name, but always thought it odd that the guy with the most serious looking puss was responsible for choosing the Daily Smile.

The Prince George Hotel across from the Globe was a haven for late-night Globe staffer poker games and copy boys were called on occasionally to tend to the eating and drinking needs of Norm Baron et al but did it with a smile knowing good tips were involved.

The fact that the large windows of the Globe and Mail overlooked the Lord Simcoe Hotel windows to the west and the Prince George Hotel windows to the south created some mighty interesting evening observations, but that is another blog.

What was remarkable about Globe staffers was how genuine they were in helping copy boys learn the business. The legendary photographer Boris Spremo gave me my first lesson in photography while sitting in the cafeteria.

In public school, I was twice asked to stand in class while teachers read my short story submissions but never received any guidance that would have helped me improve my writing skills. While at the Globe, still didn't know where I was headed.

In early 1963, Turnbull posted a notice asking Globe staff to comment on a proposal by the city to introduce crosswalks in Toronto. The pros and cons etc. I typed out a one-page reply.

Turnbull sent me a memo that changed my life forever. He thanked me for my crosswalk feedback and said I could have a future in the news business as a reporter. He suggested I give it a try.

For the next several months, spent my off hours in city hall courtrooms trying to get a court case published, covered a couple of minor sports events for Vipond, wrote a Copy Boy Capers column in Inside Story, an in-house publication, was assigned to news stories etc.

But my first byline was for a women's section story about horses and a female rider.

By the summer of 1963, I had worked my way up to head copy boy and would have been content with that job for a few more years but another memo from Turnbull change my mind.

Turnbull said it was time to get my feet wet as a cub reporter and there was an opening at the Chatham Daily News, a small Thomson newspaper where quite a few Globe vets got their start.

Starting pay, $27.50 a week. Packed my bags and said bye-bye T.O.

Next blog: Chatham Daily News reporter

In the beginning: Toronto Daily Star carrier

You could say newspapers were in my blood from an early age. It was inherited from my father, Fred, who sold newspapers at the corner of Christie and Dupont in Toronto in the early 1900's.

My older brother, Bill Cosway, was delivering the Toronto Star in 1952 when I got my first paper route, working out of an agency at 22 Barton Street, in the Bathurst and Bloor district.

It was the start of a beautiful, eight-year friendship.

(Photo above: 22 Barton Street agency rep Robert "Bob" Britnell, me and a new bike won in a subscription contest)

In the early 1950's, the Star and Telegram were late afternoon editions and you could deliver both - until they decided to make carriers choose one or the other. I chose the Star.

The number of customers on my routes varied, but at my peak I was delivering the Star to 350 people in a wide range of the Annex, including the posh new apartment buildings on Spadina Road, Walmer Road and St. George Street.

Two things I quickly learned as a carrier: it was cool to always have money in your pocket at a young age and I had a knack for selling subscriptions in contests.

Also discovered that single women living in high rises thought nothing of coming to the door scantily clad to pay me for the deliveries, but that is another blog.

As one of the Star's top subscription contest salesmen, I won six consecutive trips to New York City, three by train and the remainder by plane.

The overnight train journeys cemented a love for trains and for New York City. The royal service in the dining car, the clickety clack through cities and countryside.

In later years, felt sorry for the chaperones who had to manage 150 boys and girls on each trip, but at the time we didn't hesitate to sneak out of our hotel at night and roam Times Square. Or pile into one room to smoke, play poker and tell tales. (Photo at right: Me on the floor trying to fleece fellow carriers in a New York hotel room.)

During a January 1959 New York Rangers/Maple Leafs game at Madison Square Garden, I left with a buddy to catch an Alan Freed concert at the Paramount Theatre in Times Square.

And what a memorable night it was, with 17 rock and roll acts, including Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, Ritchie Valens, Eddie Cochrane, Bo Diddley, Jackie Wilson, Frankie Avalon, the Everly Brothers, Dion and the Belmonts, Jimmy Clanton etc. All for a $4.50 ticket.

Another memorable evening was a first visit to Radio City Music Hall, where all 150 young carriers enjoyed the colorful Christmas stage show - plus a screening of Peyton Place. Our escorts, we called them Huey, Louie and Dewey, sounded apologetic for the movie.

Now, a confession. I shoplifted an Empire State Building souvenir. For years, I waited for a knock on the door and my arrest for shoplifting. It never came and I never shoplifted again.

Meanwhile, back on my paper route . . .

Hurricane Hazel ravaged Toronto in October 1954. On the second day of the hurricane weather, carriers were given the option of delivering or not delivering. I delivered. Several days later, when it came time to collect, a woman on my route complained that the paper was wet that day.

In all my years as a carrier, never had to ask my parents for allowance. When Elvis Presley came to town in 1957 for a concert at Maple Leaf Gardens, paid for the $3.50 ticket from my paper route earnings. Paid for all of the rock and roll records etc. In 1958, at age 16, bought a motor scooter from my earnings and later, my first car. It was teenage freedom.

Fondly remember my carrier days. It provided early training in money management, took me to New York and Detroit, won me bicycles, radios, dartboards etc, kept money in my pocket, taught me how to deal with people. My early ambition was to own a corner newspaper sales business, but subways all but doomed that public service. Fate, however, would keep me in the news biz.

Next blog: Toronto Globe and Mail copy boy