PGN’s vending boxes originally were my idea.
I saw an alternative paper called the Drummer using them and thought that if they could, why not us? Besides, while we gave out complimentary copies of the first issues, mostly in the bars, they wanted no part of selling it. Mark Segal found old-style, being-phased-out machines from the Bulletin. We got five at a time (what would fit in my truck) and had them painted at Earl (“We can paint any car for $69!”) Shibe auto painting, where he knew a manager. We had to pick a color from what they had on hand and chose “Fresh Plumb.” No one else had it and it just seemed so gay.
After they were painted, I brought them up to my place in Bucks County, as we didn’t have our building in the city yet. My father, a mechanical wizard, took apart a coin mechanism and figured out how it worked and how to get it to work for 50 cents, what we were charging for the paper. After the mechs were set, I brought them back to Philadelphia and placed them on street corners around the then-gay neighborhood Rittenhouse Square. We kept getting groups of five until we had maybe 30.
We didn’t know what to expect. However, they were received well and surprisingly were quite successful. But that’s not to say that there wasn’t vandalism. Spray paint was probably the worst problem then, and I learned I could brush-paint them and they almost looked as good as spray-painted ones.
When Earl Shibe phased out the color we were using, we got the remainder of their inventory, probably 30 gallons. It lasted for maybe 10 years.
We continued to add more boxes as various newspapers went out of business. We managed to acquire their inventory. Perhaps the largest single acquisition was from the Philadelphia Journal. We bought 100 boxes and sold 50 to the then-just beginning Atlantic City Weekly for more than we paid. I rebuilt and painted the remainder. By the mid-’80s, we had over 100 of them and placed them all over Center City.
Vandalism and homophobic attacks continued all this time. Some boxes disappeared. Religious propaganda was probably the most difficult to clean up. I found homemade bombs in some. Others were set on fire. We found the contents of cat litter boxes, garbage, battery acid (it actually dissolved the face of the quarters), street people used them as closets. A slogan I cleaned off repeatedly was “GAY=Got AIDS Yet.” Of course, thousands of “fag” or “faggot.” Some of it was obscene. At this time, I was delivering all of the papers and carried an emergency tool and cleaning kit with me. I tried to keep them cleaned weekly. When Mark made political enemies, the boxes were usually targeted. It was my work to clean it up. I seldom found money, never drugs or guns, occasionally porn or drug paraphernalia and lots and lots of trash. They don’t call this “Philthydelphia” for nothing.
Twice I was harassed by the police. I was attacked by homeless people. Lots of homophobic slogans were hurled at me. I had my toolbox stolen from the back of the van, only to find it five minutes later in the store where I was delivering papers; the thief was trying to sell it to the store-keeper. I identified it by the trademark purple paint on the tools and took it back. I guess the funniest was when people tried to pick me up.
I dug the boxes out of the snow. Rescued them from construction sites. I had one in front of the Meridian Plaza building when they had the towering inferno fire. I also had one inside of the DCA Club when they had the fire in 1980. It survived! I had fights with people who didn’t want them there. And had perhaps a half-dozen boxes hit by cars over the years.
I guess it’s been my life’s work over the years. It’s what I’m most proud of at PGN. A lot of it has been thankless and uncomfortable. Delivering papers in the cold, heavy rain was the absolute worst. I would sing aloud, “I’m singing in the rain, and it is such a pain, I’m cold and I’m wet and unhappy again,” not caring if anyone heard me. The hardest part was just finding toilets.
I guess if I leave a legacy, this is it.