The strange decline of the paperboy

By Finlo Rohrer BBC News Magazine

People in many areas of the country struggle to get a newspaper delivered. It's the burning issue in the world of the newsagent - where did all the newspaper boys and girls go?

Becoming a paper boy or girl is a rite of passage for many children.

Perhaps more than any other part-time job, it educates the young future worker about the importance of getting up in the morning, of punctuality, of steadfastness.

POSSIBLE FACTORS IN DECLINE Rising pocket money Other job opportunities Concerns over safety Linked to tiredness in school New regulations

While the rest of childkind slumbers, lost in a dreamscape of gaudy electronics and instant gratification, the hardy paperboy ventures out into the gloaming so householders can have their news in time for breakfast.

But all is not well in the world of home news delivery.

The National Federation of Retail Newsagents represents thousands of shops across the country. At its conference this week, one of the topics of conversation that is preoccupying members is a sad decline.

Newsagents' pain

Stefan Wojciechowski, head of news and magazines at the NFRN, says while no exact figures are available, it is estimated anything up to a third of all independent newsagents have given up home delivery in the past five to seven years.

There's competition from supermarkets and convenience stores, people are commuting such distances that they leave the house before delivery is possible, and newspaper sales themselves are in long term decline.

It was horrible - the papers were heavy, it rained every day, it was cold and I wanted to sleep but couldn't because I had to get up at 6.15 Sarah Pine Ex-papergirl

But most of all an absence of paperboys is causing newsagents pain.

"Kids don't want to do paper rounds because of increasing pocket money and other ways of earning money," Mr Wojciechowski says.

Joe Kelly of Direct News, in Garston, south Liverpool, realised 18 months ago that morning newspaper deliveries would have to stop.

"We just couldn't get the paperboys. We used to have a book full of names. We used to do 10 paperboys but it was gradually dropping off. Basically, they seem to have got too much cash. The majority seem to have unlimited funds from mum and dad."

Deliverers of news were typically 14 or 15 and could earn £10 a week for 20-25 minutes work per day. But no more.

And like the decline of the village post office, there are consequences wider than just people not being able to do the crossword while eating their egg and soldiers.

Young people have been delivering the news since time immemorial

Kelly has lost 50 copies a day in sales, but he worries about the loss of community glue that the decline of the paperboy represents.

"Some of the elderly people we deliver to, they form a relationship with the paperboy. On a couple of occasions the paperboy has come back and said there's a problem at this house. It is a lifeline for some."

Brass in pocket

But is it rising pocket money that is causing the paperboy to stay a-bed?

The paperboy is an institution in other countries

A Halifax survey of pocket money certainly seems to indicate that it has risen much faster than inflation. Between 1998 and 2004, pocket money rose more than fourfold, from £1.76 to a whopping £7.82 a week, although it has now stabilised at about the £8 mark.

According to the same survey, in 2007 19% of working seven- to 16-year-olds had paper rounds, compared with 35% in 2004.

It's clear that there could be other factors at play - others sources of part-time work and parental concern about early starts and safety.

But those who do get up so early in the morning get to see a unique world. Their comrades are milkmen - suffering their own decline - early bird shop owners, sundry binmen and recycling crews.

There are downsides. It can be decidedly chilly at six in the morning even in high summer. Paperboys learn to hate the one far-flung address on the route, the house with the mad Jack Russell, and the infuriating owners of original Victorian doors with original tiny Victorian letterboxes, through which a meaty Sunday newspaper will not pass.

Bridging gap

And paperboys gain an entry into the world of work. Walking or cycling provides exercise, but the process of fine-tuning the round is even more valuable. The paperboy learns to maximise his efficiency and map out the most ergonomic route because the incentive of getting back indoors is so strong.

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"It is a very good way of bridging the gap between school and work," says Mr Wojciechowski.

The big newspaper groups have already seen the danger of the decline of the paperboy. The Times offers to organise delivery for customers, passing their order on to a newsagent. It's also experimenting in London - where the ratio of delivering newsagents to people is the lowest in the country - with doing the delivery itself.

"People who get copies home delivered read the paper more and stay with us longer," says David Walker, head of fulfilment at the Times. "We realise there is still a massive demand from readers. It's up to us to make it as easy as possible."

Of the 14,000 delivering newsagents in Scotland, England and Wales, only 7,000 are actively seeking new business. The other 7,000 are contemplating getting out of the home delivery business. There are already areas of cities where it is a struggle to get a paper delivered and this will worsen.

The future might be "roundsmen", Mr Wojciechowski says. "Successful, sustainable home news delivery will probably be using vans and adults covering a much wider area."

Rain, cold

Sarah Pine, 15, is one of those who has tried paper delivery and decided it's not the ideal job for her. At the beginning of last summer she started a round in Orpington on the outskirts of London.

"I was really lucky because I had a short round and because my house was in the middle of the round," she says. "My sister had another round. Her round went very far away."

But after six months, Sarah realised that the £15 a week wages were no compensation for the negative aspect of delivering the news.

"It was horrible. The papers were heavy, it rained every day, it was cold and I wanted to sleep but couldn't because I had to get up at 6.15. My hands were really cold. If it was raining you couldn't have an umbrella - you needed your hands to do the papers."

Now early starts are solely due to GCSE revision and Sarah - who receives £17.50 pocket money a week - is no longer tired in school, but the paper round did offer one social advantage.

"I liked the fact I could say I worked for my money rather than being seen as spoilt.