Sneaky Clues - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday!  If you've been here before, you know what to do.  If you haven't - we're glad you decided to visit. 

Grab a favorite beverage, making sure to keep it away from the keyboard or the paper objects I will be sharing today.  Settle into a comfy chair and kick off the tight shoes.  If your brain is occupied by things that are less than positive, put them aside for a time while I share something I enjoy.  

And maybe.  Just maybe.  We'll all learn something new!

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I find postal history to be enjoyable in part because I also happen to enjoy puzzles.  The process of looking for the clues on an old piece of mail to figure out as much of the story that surrounds it is where I get much of my enjoyment from the hobby.

Like any type of puzzle, whether it is Crosswords, Sudoku, or some other puzzle of your choice, there are strategies that can be learned over time.  As you are exposed to more puzzles, your experience grows, giving you a broader range of possibilities for seeking solutions.  The same holds true for me as I explore postal history.  Over time, I have learned to look for a broader range of clues that can help me solve each "puzzle."

Today, I thought I'd show a few sneaky clues that, once you see them, seem pretty easy.  But, if you don't know to look for them, they are easy to overlook.

Weight, Weight - Don't Tell Me

Pardon me for using the play on words to reference the NPR news quiz.  But, it got into my head and the only way to get rid of it was to actually use it.  Now it is stuck in YOUR head and we can deal with the discomfort together!

The first item I wanted to share with you today is a folded letter from Mettet, Belgium that was mailed in December of 1854 to Charleroy, also in Belgium.

So, this is a domestic letter that shows two 20 centime stamps that were used to pay the postage (a total of 40 centimes).  The question is - why was 40 centimes needed to mail this letter?

Belgium's internal rate structure from July 1, 1849 to October 31, 1868 was fairly complex.  It maintained both a distance component and a weight component to determine the cost of postage for any given item.  Any letter that had to travel 30 km or more would have to follow one rate table and local letters (less than 30km distance) would follow another.

The weight component was not a linear progression either.  The base rate was for mail weighing no more than 10 grams.  That would cover the majority of letter mail.  The next rate level was for mail that weighed over 10 grams and no more than 20 grams.  The third rate level was for mail that weighed more than 20 grams and no more than 60 grams.

So, what are the clues that we can use to figure out the rate for the folded letter shown above?

Clue #1: 40 centimes in postage paid appears to have covered the cost

The stamps have their cancellation markings and there are no markings on the cover that tell us more money is owed by the recipient.  That means the postage rate was 40 centimes OR less.  After all, a postal service only cares if you don't pay enough.  If you want to pay too much, that's your business.

Clue #2:  How far apart are Mettet and Charleroy?

It turns out that they are roughly 24 km distant from each other.  This tells us that this was a "local" letter.  So, if we know that a local letter required 40 centimes for an item weighing more than 20 grams and no more than 60 grams, we have (mostly) solved the problem!  

We cannot eliminate the possibility that this was an overpayment for either the first or second rate levels.  But, the simplest solution is to say that the postage paid the third rate level for a local letter.

Clue #3 A weight is referenced in a docket:

Located at the top center of this piece of mail is a scrawl that actually reads "25 Gms."  It is likely a weight written by the postal clerk.  And, as it turns out, 25 grams is between 20 and 60 grams.  So, this letter was mailed at the third rate level for a local letter, which required 40 centimes in postage.

I could have come to the likely correct conclusion with either the distance or the weight docket, but there are times when one clue is not enough.  And, even if one IS enough, it can be helpful to have corroboration between clues.  If they contradicted each other, we would have a bit more of a puzzle on our hands - and it could be one that is not solvable.

 

Here is another piece of letter mail from 1858.  This cover originated in Bruges, Belgium and was sent to Dublin, Ireland.   The two postage stamps total 80 centimes in postage paid to mail this letter.

The postage rate between these two locations was simple: 40 centimes per 15 grams (effective Oct 1, 1857 - July 31, 1865).  So, the simple conclusion is that this paid the postage for a double weight letter (something over 15 grams and up to 30 grams).

Well, we can tell you that this letter and its contents weighed 16 grams according to the docket we can find just above and to the left of the Bruges postmark.  

Unlike the first instance, this one is much easier to read and identify.  In fact, it was this cover (and one other) that taught me to look just in case this clue is a part of a postal history item.  Most mail does not bear a docket or marking that indicates the weight of the letter.  But, when it does, it can provide valuable information.

Eights are Wild

I thought this folded lettersheet mailed in 1853 from Switzerland (Chaux-de-fonds) to Paris (France) would be a logical next step.  See if you can figure this one out without me giving you the answer.

This was an unpaid letter (no postage stamps), so the recipient would be expected to pay that postage in order to receive the letter.  And the rate was 40 centimes per 7.5 grams in weight.

There are actually three numerical markings on this particular item.  You probably recognize the two "8's" - but the squiggle at the lower right (looks like a lower case "n") is actually a "4."

The "4" has been crossed off (notice the two lines going through it) because the receiving postmaster must have determined that the letter weighed too much.  They put the larger "8" in the middle indicating that the recipient must pay 8 decimes (80 centimes) to receive the letter.  In case you didn't remember, the French preferred to do their accounting in decimes (1 decime = 10 centimes) and you can think of a decime as a dime, if that helps you.

Initially, I did not understand the purpose of the 2nd "8" at the top left.  Maybe the postmaster just wanted everyone to understand "Hey!  I really meant 8 decimes, not 4 decimes.  See!  I put it here twice!"  But, even more likely is that the smaller "8" is the weight of the letter - 8 grams.  They just did not bother putting the weight unit with it this time.

By putting the weight on the letter, I suspect they felt it would serve as an explanation as to why they rejected the first 4 decimes rating.  The recipient, on the other hand, probably did not need or want to know that the weight was over by just a half gram.  If anything, they were probably just annoyed that they had to pay twice as much for this particular letter. 

Not Just an 1850s Thing

Below is a letter mailed from the Netherlands to England in 1914.  World War I was actively engaged at the time, so most mail between nations would go through censors.  After the censor read the letter and removed anything they didn't feel should be included, they would reseal the letter with some sort of seal or tape (like the pink you see in the cover below).

This letter carries 37 1/2 Dutch cents in postage.  At the top left, you can see the weight "44 grams" written in pencil.  I wonder why that is there?

Well, I'm going to work backwards first.  The fee to send registered mail from Holland to England was 10 cents (Jan 1881 - Mar 31, 1921).  That leaves us with 27 1/2 cents in postage paid by the blue stamp at lower left.

The letter rate for mail from the Netherlands to England was as follows:
    1st 20 grams: 12 ½ cents
    each additional 20 grams: 7 ½ cts 

If the letter weighed 44 grams, we would be in the third weight level, then the postage rate should have been 27 1/2 cents.  

As a side note, take a look at the address panel on this envelope - "To W.T. Wilson Stamp Dealer"

Yes, this was a piece of mail to an individual who sold postage stamps to philatelists (people who collect and study postage stamps).  That, by itself, could explain a few things - and perhaps that will be worth its own Postal History Sunday someday!

And Other Numbers

Below is another letter from the same era.  This one was mailed from New York in 1919 to Norway.

The postage rate for most foreign mail at the time was 5 cents for the first ounce.  Each additional ounce required 3 cents more in postage.  This was effective from Oct 1, 1907 until Oct 31, 1953 (that is a very long time for a rate to stay the same!).

Apparently, this letter weighed more than one ounce, but not more than two ounces.  Eight cents in postage were applied and a blue "8" was written on the front of the envelope.  This time it seems apparent that this was the amount of postage required.  

If you have mailed a batch of things recently and there were people waiting, you may have had a postal clerk calculate the amount of postage needed and then write the amount on each item.  You would pay the total and they would apply the postage later based on the total written there once the line of waiting customers was gone.  It isn't hard to guess that this may have been exactly what happened here.

As is the case for each of the items I shared today, this letter has more to the story.  The destination was initially in Christiania (now Oslo) and the letter was forwarded by the Grand Hotel to Goteborg.  Is it possible that the blue "8" had something to do with that part of the letter's journey (for example, a hotel room number, as suggested in comments)?

Yes, it is.  But, if it is, I have not yet figured out how it would fit.  So, until I get to the point where I find out otherwise, I'll stick with my current story.

After all, I am still learning - which is another of the things that appeal to me about this hobby.

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And there you have it - another Postal History Sunday in the books!  I hope you enjoyed this little foray into a hobby I enjoy and I hope you also learned something new in the process. 

Quick Responses to Questions

I had an additional question asked since last Sunday and I thought I'd do a short answer at the end of this PHS as well.

Who is your audience?  Are you writing for people who are already postal historians or are you trying to get people to join the hobby?

My primary answer is that I am writing these Postal History Sunday blogs for anyone who reads them and finds them enjoyable.  I am aware of several people who have indicated that they like these blogs, but they do not intend to join the ranks of the hobbyist.  I am also aware of others who are respected postal historians and philatelists that have also enjoyed some of these posts too.

In the end, I like to write things to facilitate learning - both mine and yours.  And, I like to put nuggets in each post that might appeal to all sorts of people.

An individual who likes postal history, but is at the stage of learning I was at a few years ago might have an "AHA!" moment as they finally find out what some of those numbers are on something they have in their collection.

Meanwhile, someone else will say, "Wow, I didn't know people could send mail prepaid or unpaid - that's different!"

An advanced postal historian might appreciate seeing the effective dates for a particular rate period or details about how a particular rate was calculated.

And others just like the ride.

Whatever your reason, I hope you enjoyed this entry and I hope to see you again next week.

editor note: the description for the 1914 item from Holland to England has been corrected per the comments provided below as of Dec 10, 2021.

To and Fro II - Postal History Sunday

Imagine that your troubles are the weeds in your vegetable plots (sadly we can picture that all too well).  Then, add to that picture all of your good friends and family members and pretend that they are all able to help you weed your vegetables.  If you do not have many friends or family members, just think of a horde of willing, able and friendly volunteers.  Sick them on the task of weeding those troubles out of your tasty veggies and viola!  Your troubles are gone!

With an introduction like that, I suspect it must be time for Postal History Sunday!

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Just three weeks ago, we offered a Postal History Sunday titled To and Fro.  That issue covered mail that traveled between the United States and France and the United Kingdom.  I received some good feedback on that one from both those who are postal historians as well as those who are not.  So, let's give that idea another go with mail between the United States and Rome in the 1860s!

If you are wondering why I seem to keep coming back to the topic of mail that crosses the Atlantic Ocean in the 1860s, there is a perfectly good explanation for it.  At least I think there is.  I put it here somewhere...

Well, let me just get on with the topic at hand and maybe I'll find it for the end of the blog!

Mail To and From the Papal State

Rome, and the surrounding territory known as the Patrimony of St Peter (or Latium), resisted joining the Kingdom of Italy that had formed under the leadership of Sardinia beginning in 1859.  The map below can give you a picture of the territory that was still held by the Papacy after 1859 until 1870 (territory in pink).

What this little piece of history means for you and I as we look at mail going to Rome is that the Papal State had its own mail service, issuing its own stamps.  The Papal State had no postal agreement with the United States.

So, what does that mean for a person who wants to send a letter from Boston to Rome? Something like the folded letter shown above that was mailed in mid-April of 1862 from Boston to Rome.

If two postal systems did not have a negotiated postal convention that outlined how mail could be exchanged between them, they would have to look for intermediary postal systems to help them do just that.  Typically (but not always), the two postal systems would have a treaty with some third-party postal system in common.  Italy and the United States each had their own agreements with France.  This made it possible to use France's postal service as the intermediary.  

As a point of information, the British, Prussian, Bremen and Hamburg mails could also serve as an intermediary between Rome and the U.S. in 1862, but most of the mail was carried via France.

The treaty between France and the United States (established in 1857) set the rate of postage at 15 cents per quarter ounce of weight for mail from the US to France.  Article VIII of the postal treaty between these two nations mentions that each country would serve as an intermediary for mail beyond their borders (if you wish to see the actual text of the treaty, it is here).  This would allow the sender to prepay the entire required postage to get between the US and Rome.

The rate was 27 cents per quarter ounce and it was a valid rate from April of 1857 through December of 1870.

This letter was put in a mailbag to go to France at Boston's exchange office and is dated April 15th.  The mailbag was sent to New York so it could board the trans-Atlantic steamship named Niagara for departure the next day.  The Niagara dropped the mailbag off at Queenstown (Ireland) on April 27.  From there it went by train to Kingston (Ireland), it crossed the Irish Sea to Holyhead and then it went through London and crossed the English Channel to France at Calais.

The letter was finally taken out of the mailbag somewhere in France on April 29 (see the black circular marking above) on its way to Marseilles.  At that point, it took another steamship that arrived at Civitavecchia (near Rome).  We know it took a ship from Marseilles to Civitavecchia because the Rome marking on the back reads "via di mare" (by the sea).

The Rome post office, but the ink slash in black ink across the envelope to indicate that it recognized postage for the letter had been paid.  The recipient would have to pay nothing more to collect the letter.

So, now that we are in Rome, let's see if we can't travel back the way we came!

What you see above is an envelope that was mailed in Rome in March of 1861 - destined for New York City.  The stamps were issued by the Papal State and used the bajocco (plural is bajocchi) as the currency unit.  The stamp issue is commonly referred to as the Papal Keys issue.  These keys represent the keys of heaven given to St. Peter that had the power of "binding and loosing," one made of gold and the other of silver.  Their appearance on the postage stamps were simply an affirmation of the papacy's authority.

The postage required in Rome to prepay a letter to the United States was 32 bajocchi per 7.5 grams (roughly 1/4 ounce) and this rate was effective from January 1, 1858 through August 30, 1866.

Compare that to the rate period for the United States and their 27 cent rate to Rome (April 1857 through December 1869).  Yes, they are different, which probably requires some sort of explanation.

What we need to remember is that France is an intermediary country in this case.  They have an agreement with the United States that sets the terms for how they will carry mail to Italy and the Papal State.  Unless the US and France agreed to do something different, there was not going to be a change in the postal rate during that time for mail going from the US to Rome.

On the other hand, the agreement between France and the Papal State could change, even if the agreement with the United States did not.  In fact, even more than that changed!  Rome and the surrounding area actually adopted the use of the Italian Lira as its currency, so the bajocco was no longer the measure for postage in Rome.  This is, of course, a simplification because there was certainly a transition period.  But, maybe that sort of discussion can be its own Postal History Sunday some day?

The markings on the front can be read, even if it takes a bit of concentration to do so.

The black, circular marking is a Rome marking for March 23, 1861, which indicates the date when the letter entered the mail in Rome.  The black diamond shaped grid is the obliterating cancel that was used to make it difficult for someone to re-use the postage stamps.

The red, double-circled marking shows us the next step of this letter's journey.  It went via ship from Civitavecchia to Marseilles, arriving there on March 27.  The words at the top of that marking read "E. Pont" or état pontifical.  A marking on the back shows us the next step of the journey.

This marking was applied on the train that ran from Paris to Calais (March 27).  From there, this letter went across the English Channel and reverses the journey of the previous letter.  It appears that it boarded the Edinburgh on March 28 at Queenstown (Ireland) and crossed the Atlantic Ocean to New York, arriving on April 8.

If you want to see a larger version of the map, feel free to click on the image to view it.  This gives you a visual representation of some of the routes via France to Italy at the time these letters traveled from place to place.

Now that we have returned from our travels to and from Rome, I think I found the explanation as to why I seem to keep landing on the 1860s period.  Ok, it doesn't explain everything, but it is an early Postal History Sunday that gives some explanation as to why I collect and research some of the areas I do!  

Aren't I sneaky, I just might get you to read (or re-read) another PHS all in one sitting.  Alas for you!

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Thank you again for joining me as I explore things that I enjoy.  Hopefully you learned something new - I know I did!

Responses to Questions

I have received a few questions that feel like they deserve a few quick answers, so I thought I'd use this area to answer a couple of them.  Perhaps they will lead to future Postal History Sundays, or maybe they won't.  We'll see!

Where do you get the pictures of these old pieces of mail?

Believe it or not, most everything I show in my Postal History Sunday blog posts are in my own collection.  So, these are scans of the actual items.  If I am borrowing an image from somewhere else I try to remember to give credit as appropriate.

Having an actual item in hand is a wonderful motivator for my curiosity.

How do you find these things (old letters)?

Just like so many things in the world, it takes a while to figure out where to look.  It turns out there are people who specialize in selling these sorts of things including dealers, auction houses, etc.  Some of the online sales sites even have sections set aside for stamps and postal history.  In fact, there are even shows/conventions where people go to buy/sell/trade and show this kind of thing.

Like so many hobbies or activities, there is a complete sub-culture that surrounds it.

How long have you been doing Postal History Sunday?

Believe it or not, I will celebrate one year of doing PHS in August of this year.  This project started initially as a way to reach out to others in our isolation with the pandemic.  It will continue as long as I feel motivated to keep writing them.  

Have a great day!  And keep the questions coming!

Digging In - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday!

Grab yourself a beverage of your choice, making sure that you keep it away from your keyboard or the paper collectibles!  Have a seat or stand up if that's what you prefer.  Push those troubles from your mind and take a few moments of your day learning something new.  Meanwhile, I will attempt to regale you with a story surrounding some postal history I enjoy.  

Perhaps, if we're all lucky enough, each of us will learn something new.

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This week I felt like digging into a single postal history item in my collection.  To be perfectly open about this one, I've done work on this cover before - but I felt compelled to work with it a bit more.  This is not at all unusual.  Sometimes I just want to get the basics for an item down and I'll recognize that I could certainly do more with it later.  But, more often than not, I'll just run out of time and I leave the rest for later.  If I am lucky, I will have taken some notes so I don't have to start all over again!

Before I go much further, let me recognize that many who read Postal History Sunday are not postal historians. So, I should clarify what I mean when I use the word cover.

A cover is essentially anything that surrounds or holds the contents being mailed to the recipient.  You and I are most familiar with an envelope, which would qualify as a cover.  In 1859, envelopes were gaining popularity but, most covers were actually a sheet of paper that surrounded the letter contents.  Sometimes, the outer sheet included some of the letter content on the inside facing part of that sheet. 

Our featured item happens to be a folded lettersheet from Antwerp (Anvers), Belgium to St Etienne, France mailed in October of 1859. 

How It Got There

Markings on the cover:

Anvers Oct 14, 1859 - 9-10 S

partial marking on the back - unknown

PD in a box

Belg Amb Calais Oct 15, 1859 - E

Paris Oct 15, 1859 (on the back)

Mail between Belgium and France crossed the border at Tourcoing, Quievrain, Erquelinnes, Jeumont, Vireux-Molhain, Givet and Luxembourg.  There were, of course, other crossings for local mail between neighboring communities that happened to be on opposite sides of the border.  The crossings I mention above were for letters from and/or to destinations that were not border towns.

We can make educated guesses as to which border crossing was used if we look at the markings on the cover.  Mail between nations at this time were exchanged between designated post offices.  Aptly enough, these are called exchange offices and the markings they applied to pieces of mail are exchange office markings. (My!  Aren't we clever with our names?!)

The exchange office markings on this cover indicate where the mail was placed in mailbags in Belgium and where they were taken out of those mailbags in France.  Unfortunately, part of the reverse of this cover is missing.  There is evidence of a partial Belgian marking that would have given us the Belgian exchange office.  The French exchange office was the mail car (traveling or ambulant post office) on the train to Calais (Amb Calais).  This leads me to the conclusion that this item probably crossed the border at Tourcoing.

How did I know that?

This is where I pull out the postal historian "voodoo magic" that is really just a combination of experience (seeing several covers from this period between these countries) and knowledge of some of the official documents that directed the mail exchange process in 1859.  A little knowledge about the available rail lines at the time doesn't hurt either! 

There is additional information in some of these postmarks that have the potential for further decoding.  The 9-10S (9 to 10 PM) in the Anvers marking tells me when the train was due to depart.  The E in the Calais marking references the team of clerks working in the mail car of the night train running from Calais to Paris. Go Team E!  I wonder if they had their own cheer or chant or something?

How Much Did It Cost to Mail?

As of April 1, 1858, a flat rate of 40 centimes per 10 grams was established for prepaid mail from Belgium to France regardless of distance.  This rate was effective until December 31, 1865 after which the rate was reduced to 30 centimes.  If an item were sent unpaid, the cost would have been higher at 60 centimes due to be paid by the recipient.

 The "PD" marking indicates the letter was "payée à destiné," which translates to "paid to destination."

The obliterating cancellations were applied to prevent the re-use of the postage stamps by defacing them with ink.  In this case, the obliterators or cancels are a round circle of bars with a "4" in the center.  Many European countries assigned numerals in canceling devices to particular offices or towns/cities.  The "4" in Belgium was assigned to Antwerp during this time period.

Who Was This To?

As a person who sometimes looks at his, or other person's writing, from even a day or two prior and wonders "what does this say?" it is not so hard to understand why it might be difficult for me or anyone else to read the address panel on this cover.  

Apparently, this is to a Mr. Evrard.  And, after a bit of a struggle, I have concluded the rest of the address reads: "fungenieur des mines, gérant les houiller de la Chazotte." This tells us that Mr. Evrard was a mining engineer, managing the Chazotte coal mines near St Etienne, France.

The Chazotte coal mine and Mr. Evrard feature prominently together in the mid-1800s largely because Evrard's inventions for coal washing and agglomeration received significant attention at the time. My basic understanding is that agglomeration was the creation of pressed coal bricks or blocks.  Evrard's machine for creating these bricks is mentioned in this document reporting on the Paris Universal Exposition.  Some of the relevant text from that document is below (see resource 2).  You can click on the images to view them more closely if you wish.

Evrard's innovations were apparently not limited to the agglomeration process as his design for coal washing is also featured in another contemporary document.   Part of the idea of washing was to separate the coal from the pyrites, which are heavier than the coal.  One of the figures showing the design of his coal washing system is shown below (resource 3):

As a kindred problem-solver, I can appreciate the approaches used for solving these production problems, even if I do not pretend to fully understand the entire process or the qualities desired for coal at the time. 

Bonus Material

The mining region where the Chazotte mine was located is shown in the map above to give an idea as to location.  This is of interest because a postal historian could find numerous covers (sometimes with letters) relating to coal mining in France, Belgium, and the United Kingdom from this period.  If this topic grabs your attention, you could pursue mining related items using the knowledge of where the coal fields were situated to help you.

This article just might provide an excellent rabbit hole regarding mining in the St Etienne (Loire) region (resource 4).  And, if you want to read about the formation of coal beds, including the one for the Chazotte mine, you can go here (resource 5). This is an illustration of how postal history is dangerous - you can find yourself reading and becoming at least mildly interested in things you never considered before.

A quick search resulted in finding the following scan from a document from 1843.  I do not own this item (nor will I, given the price). A person could own shares of Chazotte mines.  I wonder if Evrard's efforts at innovative machinery helped share prices or not?

I place the financial component front and center to remind us of what drove the exploitation of coal fields in the first place.  With the event of coal fired engines, the demand increased rapidly.  Prior to this coal was used for heating and smelting iron ore.  But now, trains, steamships and all sorts of other equipment (including Evrard's inventions) were using coal to provide power.

To close things out, I wanted to point out that it was not just the coal field that was exploited in the mining of coal.  This interesting summary regarding the Felling Collier Disaster in 1812 reminds us that mining was (and still is) a dangerous job (resource 6).  In this single disaster, ninety-two people died, ages 8 to 65.  In fact, the coal communities in Europe are still seeing the effects that the focus on coal created in the present day.  This interesting paper by Esposito and Abramson notes in the abstract that:

... former coal-mining regions are substantially poorer, with (at least) 10% smaller per-capita GDP than comparable regions in the same country that did not mine coal. We provide evidence that much of this lag is explained by lower levels of human capital accumulation and ...  result from the crystallization of negative attitudes towards education and lower future orientations in these regions.  (resource 1)

It's at this point that you and I look at each other and ask - "how did we get here?"

Oh. Yeah.  It was that silly piece of paper that carried a letter or business correspondence to a mining engineer in France.  Imagine that.

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Thank you for joining me in today's journey!  This is one of those cases where I did not expect the Postal History Sunday blog to go as far as it ended up going.  I hope you enjoyed it, even if we did get a ways "into the weeds."

Have a great remainder of your day and I hope you have a great week to come!

Resources:

1. Esposito, E., Abramson, S.F. The European coal curse. J Econ Growth 26, 77–112 (2021). 

2. Blake, W.P., ed. Reports of the United States Commissioners to the Paris Universal Exposition, vol V, Government Printing Office, Washington, DC, 1870.

3. Byrne, O., ed. Spon's Dictionary of Engineering: Civil, Mechanical, Military and Navel with Technical Terms,  Vol III, E & F.N. Spon, London, 1870.

4. Barau, D, Les sources de l'histoire miniere aux Archives departementales de la Loire, vol 8, 2nd Semester 2008, pp 40-66.  Taken from https://journals.openedition.org/dht/633?lang=en on July 10, 2021.

5. Stevenson, J., The Formation of Coal Beds IV. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, Jan-Apr 1913, Vol 52, No 208, pp 31-162. https://www.jstor.org/stable/983997

6. The Industrial Revolution, coal mining, and the Felling Colliery Disaster from Letters and the Lamp: Davy, Stephenson, and the Miners' Safety Lamp, site developed as part of the Lancaster University Impact and Knowledge Exchange Award. http://wp.lancs.ac.uk/lettersandthelamp/sections/the-industrial-revolution-coal-mining-and-the-felling-colliery-disaster/ viewed on July 10, 2021

Misunderstanding and Irony - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the July 4th edition of Postal History Sunday on the GFF Postal History blog!  If you've just walked into the door to view this blog for the first time, please feel welcome and if you have been here before, please be patient while I remind everyone to take a moment to get comfortable and grab a favorite beverage - but keep it away from the paper items (and the keyboard)!

As for those worries that bog you down during the week, now is the time to imagine that they are tied to the fireworks and let them go screaming into the sky, only to explode into a sparkly rainbow of color.  Let's see if we can learn something new today!

This week we're going to look at an item that is much newer than many of the things I tend to show here.  This letter was mailed by Otto Becker in Chicago on June 24, 1947.  He addressed the letter to the Spencer Fireworks in Polk, Iowa, placing a 16 cent stamp to pay for the standard letter rate (3 cents) and the special delivery charge (13 cents).

3 cents for a standard letter + 13 cents for "Special Delivery" fee

The Postal Rates

The three cent per ounce letter rate for mail inside the United States was effective on July 6, 1932 and remained in force until July 31, 1958.  Twenty-six years probably seems like a pretty long time for a single rate to be effective.  For contrast, these rates changed eleven times from 1974 to 1999 (26 years) where the postage rate started at 8 cents at the beginning of 1974 and was 33 cents by the end of 1999.

At the time this letter was sent, postal customers could opt for Airmail letter service, which would have cost 5 cents per ounce.  Such a letter would have required some sort of marking that airmail was requested.  This letter does not use air service, so postal historians like to call it "surface mail," which covers travel by boat, train, car, truck or alpaca.  Ok, maybe not alpaca.  But, I think you get the idea.

The Special Delivery service cost an additional 13 cents (Nov 1, 1944 - Dec 31, 1948).  Payment of the additional postage meant that once the receiving post office got the letter, they would send it out for delivery - even if the postal carriers had already left to run their routes!  This service was available in the United States starting in 1885 and was terminated in 1997.  At present, any mail received at a destination post office after the mail distribution will simply wait until the next day's distribution.

Spencer Fireworks catalog ca 1941

The Misunderstanding

Otto Becker probably wanted to do business with the Spencer Fire Works company located in Polk, Ohio.  You would think that someone who lives in Chicago would have some idea as to the difference between Ohio and Iowa.  Yes, yes, I know.... They both have a lot of vowels.  With two of the three letters in common, you *might* be able to suggest that they were having trouble with a vowel movement.

No, no.  We shan't be punning here.  Oh, it's too late?  Sorry.

In any event, a helpful postmaster found that there was a Polk CITY in Iowa, so they added "City" to the address and away it went, leaving Chicago and arriving in Polk City the next day (June 25).  

The Polk City postmaster probably rolled eyes to the sky and said, "we've got another one."  

I'm guessing this wasn't the first (or last) time that something was incorrectly addressed to the Spencer Fire Works company and sent on to Polk City, Iowa, by mistake.  

The postmaster dutifully re-mailed the item to Polk, Ohio and a backstamp on the envelope shows that it did arrive at the proper town in Ohio on June 28.

Arrival at Polk (Ohio) June 28, 1847  6PM

The Irony

Items like this are a bit more interesting to a postal historian, such as myself, because something didn't quite go according to plan in the delivery process of this letter.  I will also admit that the connection to my home state (Iowa) also makes it more attractive to me.  If this letter had been correctly addressed to Polk, Ohio, I highly doubt I would have given this item a second glance!

Initially, I thought it was interesting that someone would try to send something to a fireworks company in Iowa of all places.  After all, there had been a ban on the private sale and use of fireworks in this state since 1938 (and has only been recently lifted - see below).  By 1947 (the time this letter was mailed), I suspect most people in surrounding states might have some idea that fireworks were illegal in this state.  One could say that it is ironic that people are confusing one state with legal fireworks with another state with no fireworks allowed.

But, that's not good enough.  I like a full dose of irony when I can get it.  And, I got it this time.

A wooden shipping crate for fireworks.

In the process of confirming the date that the ban was put in place, I was able to learn some information about a key event that had much to do with the fireworks ban in the state.  Before I tell you about it - look again at the NAME of the fireworks company.  Got it stuck in your brain now?  Good.

The year was 1931 and a very dry weather was beginning to take hold of a significant portion of North America.  Have you heard of the Dust Bowl?  Well, there you are.  In any event, things were dry in Iowa, but towns in the state were still intent on celebrating the Fourth of July with fireworks.  On June 27, 1931 temps were in the mid to high nineties and winds were strong.  I think you know what comes next...

There was an accident in one town.  A local retailer had a display of fireworks that was accidentally set off.  Fires spread rapidly.  By the time they died down, one hundred buildings in the center of town were destroyed.  Amazingly, no one died in the fires.

The name of the town that burned due to a fireworks accident?

Spencer

And A Bit More of the Story
One major event wasn't quite enough evidently to spur the ban.  The "Remsen Holocost" of 1936 simply provided more impetus for change.  Legislative action in 1937 led to the ban taking effect January 1st of 1938.  This ban existed up until its removal in 2017.  

The presence of large retail outlets at the border attested to a long-standing tendency of Iowans to cross the border to purchase fireworks regardless of the ban.  As recently at 2013 there were more than 25 fires started by personal fireworks in the state.

Sadly, some of the side effects of ban removal were felt in the first year.  Among them was an amazing decline in air quality in the state during the primary fireworks use dates.  Interestingly enough, one of the reactions has been for local communities to ban the use of fireworks within town limits. 

Air quality in Iowa in 2017 on July 5

Now, in 2021, we're looking at very dry conditions for most of the state.  It's not Dust Bowl dry, but it is enough that we should all exercise caution with fire.  Here's hoping we have safe celebrations for our independence.

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I hope you enjoyed today's installment of Postal History Sunday!  Thank you for joining me and letting me share some things that interest me each week.  Have a good remainder of the weekend and a splendid week to come!

Want to learn more?

You can start sounding like an expert when it comes to United States domestic postal rates if you know what resources to use.  An excellent work by Henry W Beecher and Anthony S Wawrukiewicz is titled "U.S. Domestic Postal Rates, 1872-1999."  I certainly do not memorize all of the dates and rates - especially when I am looking at items out of the 1860s.