
This 1966 paper boy is me
My father found out production of the newspapers had started back up again [after a five-week strike]. So we were over at the Morrissey plant to get the papers, and some reporter was out front with his camera. My father, being a very funny, outgoing guy, said, “This is the newspaper boy you want, right here.” [Charles Dixon, the photographer] said, “I want you to take these newspapers and run as fast as you can, and jump as high as you can.” I think I still have the original 8-by-10 glossies. It’s not like it was front page news, but it was a big deal. – Ed McCarthy, now 63, as told to Jules Struck

The Globe’s printing presses are my family business
The paper’s always been a big part of my life, since before I was born. My father had been a Globe pressman since 1957. I’d go with him to get his paycheck — I was probably 10 years old. He let me run the machine, hit the buttons, before I really knew what it was. I started working in the pressroom as a teenager — my father was there, my brother, a couple of cousins. My father worked at the Globe for about 46 years. He started on Washington Street in downtown Boston and retired from the Morrissey Boulevard plant in 2002, at 64 years old. I’m still there in the Globe pressroom. In a way, it’s a bit of a legacy for my father. – Daniel Stenstrom, pressroom foreman, as told to Jules Struck

A newspaper’s long journey to subscribers on Martha’s Vineyard
Barbara Baskin and her husband, John Breckenridge, started getting the Globe in 1970, and that means they might hold the record for longest-term subscribers. “We — miraculously — are able to have it delivered every day to the house, which on Martha’s Vineyard is kind of a feat,” Baskin says. Papers get to the island via the Patriot, a private boat the Globe has chartered for decades, and then a delivery driver takes over. One new driver kept getting lost, Baskin recalls. “I finally hailed her down one morning and I said, ‘Let me get in the car with you. We’re going to go deliver the papers.’” The last steps of the journey were long up to Harry, the couple’s late golden retriever. “Anything good outside, Harry?” Breckenridge would ask, opening the front door. And down the driveway the good boy would go, coming back with the news of the day. – Jules Struck