CLARK BARS

CLARK BARS
My daughter, Sue, brought me a bunch of Clark Bars this evening. Sue has a heck of a memory! She remembered the story of my boyhood. The fact that I’ve probably told it so many times may have helped her recall!
I guess there’s no harm in repeating it. I’m sure that some of you probably aren’t familiar with it.
When I was 10 and eleven, (back in 1928-9), I delivered newspapers for the Hillsdale (MI) Daily News. I delivered papers every day except Sunday. I made sure that my customers received it - rain/snow or shine. Fortunately, it was an afternoon paper, rather than an early morning edition. I would pick up my papers at the paper- printing plant after school during the school year, or on a summer afternoon. I can still hear the roar of the presses, and smell the paper, ink and oil, from the hot presses. I can’t remember how I got the papers at the plant. They must have been bundled by route number. If the weather was nice I would fold the individual papers as I walked from house to house. But, if it was raining or snowing - or just plain freezing - I would sit on the floor of the plant and fold most of them. The paper only had four pages so folding was very easy. I would fold the paper so that it was a third as wide. Then, I would insert the bottom into the top - ending up with a nice compact little square package. They were easy to pack into my bag and easy to throw on to the porches. When it was freezing cold in the winter, I hated to leave the warm and cozy building.
I eventually saved $25 from my earnings, and bought my first, and only, bike - a 26 inch- wheel Hawthorne. I used the bike to deliver the papers, whenever the weather permitted. I had to fold al the papers before I left the plant. I probably had a hundred customers. So, my paper bag was stuffed full when I started. I would place the full bag on top of the handle bars, and head out.
When walking, it was easier to launch the folded paper on to the porch. I got pretty skilled side-arming the papers on to the porches. But, the arc (similar to a moving Frisbee) was pretty tricky, and hard to learn. But, if windy, when walking, or riding my bike, it was pretty hard to hit the target. When sailing the paper you had to “lead” - throw ahead of the porch, with the wind/motion affect. I would like to see the mathematical equation for the trajectory. While a few of my errant tosses ended up on the roof of the porches, I never remember breaking a window. Compared to today’s newspaper delivery service (or no service), in the bushes or gutter, I gave my customers very good service. One advantage that I had, I didn’t have to put the papers in a plastic sleeve during inclement weather.
The paper cost 15 cents a week. I don’t remember, but I probably received two cents of this. I collected on Saturday mornings. With the money, the customer would hand me their card, and I would punch out the date with my paper punch. There are always the “cheats” and “skinflints”.
One old guy would always ask if I had change for a “twenty” - for a 15 cent payment! (This was during the Great Depression). He knew that I didn’t. After hearing the same question for a couple of weeks, I realized that I was a slow learner. The next Saturday, not only did I “collect” from him last, but I carried some additional change. When he popped the question, I called his bluff. I answered, “I sure do!” He was a little flustered! I cooled my heels for quite a while, as he scrambled to find the “Twenty”.
After I finished my collecting, I took all the change to the bank, and changed it into bills. In 1928-9, the Bills were very large (as were the wallets). Gold was still legal then, and I can remember having small denominations of those pieces. When the banks closed, because of a “run” on them during the depression, the Government ordered everyone to turn in their gold pieces. Of course, I respected “authority” and complied. Today, they would be very valuable - not only as an antique, but with gold going for over $1,000 an ounce. Today, I realize that the governments’ order was like today’s warnings not to remove the tags on mattresses and pillows! I settled with the paper and what money left was mine!
After nearly two pages of manuscript, I still haven’t mentioned “Clark Bars”. I had to walk about four blocks from the printing building before I started my paper route. It started downtown at Broad Street and included all of Bacon Street - both sides - eastward to the city limits. This distance was about two miles. The route probably included 100 customers. At the City Limits, Bacon street made a 45 degree jog to the right ,and became Bacon Road. At the City limits was a small hot dog stand called “The Limits” (that figures). A man and his wife ran the shop. In the summer, when I handed them the paper, they gave me a Clark Bar - cost 5 cents. Instead of getting tired of the candy bar, I got hooked on them. They became my favorite. In the winter, they would give me a hot dog. It was the best ones that I’ve ever had. I can still taste them - especially the onions - after 70 years!
D.L. Clark founded his candy company in 1886. Clark came to America from Ireland in 1873 at the age of 8. His education consisted of only one year in grade school. Like me, he sold newspapers at the age of nine. At age twelve, he went to Business College at night, and worked during the day. Clark founded his candy company in 1886.
He introduced his Clark bar by shipping them to the troops overseas during World War One. Their popularity continued with the general population after the war. Clark died in 1939 at the age of 75. In 1955, the Clark family sold the company to Beatrice Foods. It operated the company until 1983. After numerous sales of the company, New England Confectionary Company (NECCO) now owns the company.
I hadn’t seen a Clark bar in many years. I assumed that they were extinct, and I missed my Clark Bar “fix’. I am glad that Sue remembered, and thought of me.
Back to my paper route:
At Christmas, most of my customers remembered me with gifts of homemade cookies, fruit cake , candy or they gave me money. So, I must have done something right.
Today, I really appreciate my newsboy experience. I am glad that my parents went along with it and didn’t intervene. I do believe that my experience helped to mold my philosophy of life, and I’m thankful for that.
Long live the Clark Bar!
RCL
10/22/09.