Perhaps more than any other commodity, newspapers have a wide range of secondary, mostly unintended uses.
Of course, two hundred years ago, papers were relatively expensive – especially the less common daily ones. Although manual printing presses were not expensive to operate, the various taxes levied on newspapers, which operated both as revenue-raising and an effective form of control to price newspapers out of reach for the masses, were a significant factor. The process for manufacturing paper from rags also meant that the basic material was costly to produce and physically durable, which is partly why it was possible to create archive volumes that often remain in surprisingly good condition today. The content of newspapers was, then as now, fundamentally ephemeral. We’re all familiar with the notion that today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip wrapping (alas, no longer. Modern hygiene standards in Britain require ‘cleaner’ wrappers, thus denying consumers that unique tang of vinegar and newsprint that was a factor in working-class culture.) But when the papers have been read, whether by one person or many, they are inherently disposable yet find themselves pressed into service in many different ways.
They were often used as linings – for drawers, even occasionally under wallpaper. They could provide extra layers of cheap insulation. Scrunched up, they doubtless started many a fire, indoors and out. They mopped up spills on floors, protected surfaces from paint or glue, prevented scratches on tables, provided a barrier against dirt reaching chair seats, sat under muddy boots and shoes and inside saturated ones. However, a few days ago I heard a really unexpected, but completely logical use; as a layer under carpets, probably in poorer homes where ‘proper’ underlay couldn’t be afforded. This use then gave rise to a game played by carpet fitters; when taking up old carpet they would compete to see who could find the oldest newspapers used as underlay. By way of proof, they would tear off the sections with day and date on and compare them when returning to base – presumably the winner would receive a small prize, but it was the thrill of the competition itself that was described to me by someone who had clearly seen a few years in the carpet-fitting business. (Nowadays, of course, if the practice continued, they would take photographs using a phone – but it wouldn’t be a bit of the actual newspaper and probably nothing like so much fun.)
They may not have been conscious of it, but the carpet fitters were engaging with history in its most basic form; the age of the newspaper also conveying a sense of the age of the carpet (and carpets, years ago, were made to last) as well as the house in which it was fitted and, by extension, the street and district and the people who lived in them. I wonder how many other uses have been found for discarded newspapers and if they gave rise to as much pleasure as this game clearly did to the animated man telling the tale to me.