Summer was an exciting time. Each day offered up endless possibilities for exploration and enjoyment. One day when I was 14 a couple buddies and I decided to publish a neighborhood weekly newspaper. It was to cover some of the neighborhood news that was not being shared in the daily city newspaper. We talked the Church out of an old mimeograph machine that was waiting further assignments in a supply closet. We then bought three 8×10 yellow legal pads, found three ball pens that were donated by a local funeral home and we were off to find the next news scoop in the neighborhood.
A lost cat, a story about mysteriously over turned trash cans and an undercover story about the local barber were our lead items for our first edition. The cat wandered home and the 7 year old perpetrator of the trash can mystery was caught before the initial printing hit the street. However we were not deterred. We printed 25 three page additions selling for 15 cents and available for reading at your leisure. In a matter of no time we were sold out, thanks in part to sympathetic parents and grandparents. Also, the undercover story about Gentlemen’s magazines being available for viewing at the local barber shop was starting to get some traction. It seems that the tradition of having magazines to read while waiting one’s turn for the bi-monthly trim was considerably enhanced by the availability of Playboy and other relevant magazines of the sort. These magazines were ostensibly available only to adult customers while they waited. If you were 14 , the trick to gain access to the off limits literature was a matter of positioning. Upon entering the shop it was necessary to position yourself next to a man enjoying the pictures while passing the time. When his turn was announced, most often the magazine was left laying in the seat that he had just vacated. It was then time to casually cover the adult periodical with the current issue of Life magazine and slowly pick both up without being noticed. With practice this trick could give you many moments of exhilaration until your name was called for the next haircut. Unfortunately our story made it’s way , second-handed ,to the Methodist pastor who got his flat-top trimmed at our barber shop. A timely discussion with the Barber ended our foray into the world of adult literature for the time being, much to the chagrin of my buddies. My excuse at the Monday night Scout Meeting was that the story was an exercise in investigative journalism. I found out very quickly that the expression of a free press does not make one as popular as I had imagined in my dreams.
