THE MONROE JOURNAL
Monroeville, Alabama U.S.A.
DECEMBER 2, 1999
BY GEORGE THOMAS JONES
Happenings in Old Monroeville
The following column originally was printed in the Oct. 9, 1997, Monroe Journal. It and many others have been compiled into a book, "Happenings in Old Monroeville" by George Thomas Jones. Books are available at The Monroe Journal for $29.95.
King of the newspaper carriers was not me, although I tossed The Birmingham News for several years when I was a kid. The undisputed king of the paperboys was Les Oliphant, who delivered The Mobile Register in the mornings and The Mobile Press in the evenings for more than 30 years.
While most of us cannot remember the names of those who delivered our papers even a year or two ago, those on Les' paper route still harbor vivid memories of this short-statured, gray-headed man who was stooped in posture from endless miles of lugging a homemade cotton shoulder bag heavy with rolled newspapers.
His walk was faster than most younger men could jog. His high-pitched, shrill voice was akin to no other and was as rapid and ongoing as his pace. On his delivery route, Les was the closest thing to perpetual motion ever seen on the streets of Monroeville.
It was generally taken for granted that Miss Emma Yarbrough, the local postmistress, was (of necessity) his business manager. However, Les usually handled his business affairs fairly well as evidenced by this story related to me by Buster Stallworth. It seems that Les and one of his customers were in disagreement over the billing and the customer was refusing to pay. So for the next three days, Les threw his newspaper on top of the customer's house. Story goes that the guy paid up on the fourth day.
Les loved baseball. There were two events he never missed. One was the season-opener of the Mobile Bears of the old Southern League when he would catch the bus down to Mobile and back. The other was any local semi-pro baseball game in Monroeville. He was a shoo-in as Monroeville's No. 1 fan. Not only did he attend all the games, but was often seen retrieving balls during batting practice. Ezra Skinner recalls that he was left-handed and could throw a baseball as far as any team player. Probably a by-product of the literally thousands of papers he had thrown most of his life.
He was also the most vocal fan of any era. Armed with his infamous cowbell, his observation post was always on ground level at one end of the grandstand situated in the rear of home plate. From this vantage point, Les clanged that thing and verbally taunted opposing pitchers and catchers from the opening pitch to the final out. At one game, he infuriated a red-headed catcher from the opposing team from Stockton to his boiling point. Whereupon, right in the middle of an inning, he left his position behind the plate and chased Les all the way to the top of the stands. To my knowledge, this marked the one and only time Les watched even a part of a ball game in quiet obscurity.
One Christmas, Miss Emma, realizing that ole Les' back and legs must surely be wearing out, gave him the best bicycle money could buy. You would think that Les would have been the proudest kid on the block. But no way would he even attempt to learn to ride it, vowing that he would never break his bones on that contraption.
One hot, summer day, my wife made some ice cold fruit punch, and when Les came by offered him some. this was a brand new drink to Les. At first, he was quite skeptical but after sampling it he consumed three glasses before resuming his paper route. Then, for the next several days, when Les got within a block of our house you could hear him chanting in a loud voice, "I wish I had me some punch!" This, of course, was his way of alerting Louise to give her time to have it ready and waiting for him.
Charles Ray Skinner relates the story of a cold Christmas morning when the family was just sitting down to a late breakfast when Les shows up delivering the morning paper. When Charles' dad asked Les if he would like a cup of hot coffee to warm him up, Les graciously accepted and then hung back until he got a full invitation to eat, also. Then, for the next several Christmases, Les timed his paper delivery just in time for return breakfast engagements.
My favorite saga in the life and times of this hall-of-fame town character evolved as I was walking up the steps of the post office and met Les coming out. To say that he was mildly upset about something would be the understatement of the year. He was furious! He was fuming and fussing and spraying tobacco juice with rapid fire in every direction. Sensing that perhaps some postal employee might have just given him a hard time, I inquired about his problem. I'll never forget his sage answer. Vehemently, he replied, "What that place in there needs is some competition."
Because his street demeanor was so eccentric, most townspeople wondered if his IQ level had advanced progressively with his years. I, too, had some doubts until I visited in his home where he lived with an older sister. Here I found him to be an amazing "Dr. Jekyll," which was a complete departure from the "Mr. Hyde" of his public antics. At home, he was a calm, sensible, soft-spoken, articulate, and hospitable host. To a home visitor, it was quite evident that he was endowed with a large measure of plain old common sense.
The following story, told to me by Dr. Roy Adams, bears this out. It was early in the morning of Roy and Jeanette's wedding day when Les delivered the paper at Roy's bachelor apartment. As he was leaving, Roy heard him proclaim in a loud, singsong voice, "A man's troubles don't start till he gets married."
Was this all-time colorful town character playing with a full deck?
You tell me.