The newspaper boy

The year was 1941, the beginning of World War II, when I was 9 years old.

At 4 p.m. came the sound, "Bobby," mom's voice echoing in the attic stairwell. "It's time to get up."

We boys slept in the attic at our house on Keller Avenue. Sometimes I would stomp my feet on the floor so she thought I was up. She called again and I jumped up, threw my clothes on and ran down the stairs and washed my face.

Mom was standing in the kitchen with a hot cup of Hemo (a hot chocolate drink) for me as I ran out the door. I looked like Dagwood (from the comic strip Blondie and Dagwood) running to catch the bus.

The city bus went as far west as St. Therese Hospital and turned around heading back east to downtown, and it didn't wait for anyone, not even me. If I missed the bus I chased it until I caught it, sometimes never catching it and running all the way downtown.

I transferred to a streetcar and rode to Great Lakes Naval Training Base to sell newspapers for Porett Brother's.

After selling the papers and leaving, the sailors filled my pockets with oranges and apples. I hopped the streetcar and transferred back to the bus.

I got off the bus at Washington Street and Orchard Avenue to go to Washington School where I attended before the tardy bell rang.

Many a day I was soaking wet and cold. The teacher always told me to sit next to the radiator to warm up and dry off so I could begin my day of learning. I say, "YES" for Waukegan Public Schools.

Robert (Bob) Mjelde