I was eleven or twelve when I decided that journalism was my future. I loved to write, I loved to snoop, I always wanted to know everything first. Those are pretty much the only qualifications, when you get right down to it. Being only eleven or twelve, I had no immediate job opportunities, but I didn’t let that stop me. I launched my own paper and called it, with the imagination of a true journalist, “Newspaper.”
The circulation of this fabulous rag was approximately ten--my immediate family on East Fourth Street in Duluth. I briefly thought I might make a little money (a common mistake of young journalists) and tried to charge them for reading it. Lacking a printing press or a Xerox machine, I produced one copy of each issue and trotted around the house handing it to various family members, trying to wheedle a nickel out of them. It might even be that I started at a dime and then lowered the price. I don’t remember. What I do remember, though, is that whatever the price was, nobody paid.