The Mighty Pencil - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the final Postal History Sunday ... for the month of September!   Actually, I really am celebrating this one a little bit because there were a couple of times during the past month that I was not sure I would have the energy to create the weekly post.  Yet, here we are, successfully creating another opportunity for me to share something I enjoy and for you to put on those fluffy slippers, enjoy a favorite beverage, and maybe even learn something new!

Before I get started, I would like to extend my gratitude to those who gave me some positive feedback over the past couple of weeks.  The timing was excellent and put more fuel in the tank that should turn into more Postal History Sundays.

----------------------------------

How Business or Junk Mail Can Be Attractive

I could be counted among those who currently take most of the things that arrive in the mailbox directly to the recycle bin after a cursory glance.  The bulk of what we receive now are advertising newspapers, flyers, and various other types of junk mail.  The rest of the mail is typically bills, and those rarely have much going for them from a collecting standpoint either.

So, how ironic is it that an envelope that might very well have been junk mail or a bill is among the favorite pieces in my collection?

Since this envelope no longer has the contents, I cannot be sure if it contained an invoice for an order or a receipt for payment - or maybe just a price list.  Frankly, it doesn't really matter, because the graphic design on this advertising cover is enough to keep me happy.

Just the concept of making the artwork appear to be three-dimensional is enough to get our attention.  The pencil appears to pierce the paper, revealing an image of the Joseph Dixon Crucible Company's factory buildings.  And, they don't miss a trick nor do they leave space unused.

The pencil is, of course, a Dixon pencil.  They use the bottom left to advertise their crucibles.  The top left shows the return address.

Even the reverse is fun to look at.  You won't have many questions about what they offer after you see one of their advertising envelopes!

Clearly, this company focused on graphite, turning it into a whole host of products.  Graphite is a crystalized carbon that is a softer substance, but is resistant to heat.  In addition, it is inert (it doesn't react) with most other metals.  If you want to learn more about the basics of graphite, this site has an easy to read description. 

Crucibles are used to melt metals so they can be worked with and formed into other shapes.  Given the two properties I cited (resistant to heat and inert with other metals), this makes graphite an excellent choice as a substance to make a crucible!  It is my understanding that a well-made graphite crucible could withstand temperatures up to 2000 degrees Celsius.

Oh - and one more tidbit - "plumbago" was the term used to refer to graphite until the late 1700s.  So, in a way, putting "graphite, plumbago, black lead" on the back of this envelope was a bit redundant!  As always, there is likely more to it than that, but I'll let you have a go at researching the point if you want!

My personal exposure to graphite products is largely limited to products to keep my bicycle working (greasing the chain and keeping cables lubed) and... of course... the pencil.

Here's the Postal History Part

This letter was mailed from San Francisco on April 6, 1899 and was received on the same day in Stockton, California.  The 2 cent stamp paid the postage for a piece of letter mail that weighed up to one ounce (effective from July 1, 1885 to November 1, 1917).  The envelope was sealed, so this would not have qualified for the reduced postage rates that printed matter were often given.

As far as postage rates and postage routes are concerned, there isn't a whole lot to drive my interest.  It was properly paid, it doesn't appear to have been misdirected at any point.

However, there is a point of interest for persons who are especially interested in postal markings (marcophily or marcophilately).

Barry Machine Cancels

As the volume of mail increased, it became increasingly difficult for a postal clerk to use a handstamp on each piece of mail and process the volume of mail coming through their office.  Thus, there was motivation for mechanical innovations so more mail could be processed in less time.  This particular envelope was postmarked with one such device.

By the time this letter was mailed, postmarking machines had been in existence and in use for over twenty years, starting with the Leavitt postmarking machines in the 1870s.  And, according to this article by Jerry Miller, there were even some trials for postmarking machines in the U.S. in the 1860s and in the United Kingdom in the 1850s. 

Most machines would require that the postal clerk "face" the envelopes so that they were oriented correctly.  The idea was that most mail had the stamp placed correctly at the top right of the envelope.  As long as the clerk "faced" the letter correctly, the marking would properly cancel the stamp so it could not be re-used.

This particular envelope ran through a machine created by the Barry Postal Supply Company of Oswego, New York.  The marking was comprised of two parts.

A dial that gave the originating post office location and a date and time stamp.

And, a portion of the device called a "killer," which was intended to deface the postage stamp so it could not be re-used.

William Barry (1841 - 1915) and his company are responsible for a wide range of markings that postal historians and marcophilatelists can hunt down, collect, and study, to their heart's content - should they desire to do so.  This website by the International Machine Cancel Society provides some guidance if you want to hunt down what type of Barry machine cancel you might have discovered.

Mr. Barry held a patent (1897) for his cancelling device which can be viewed on the Google patents site.  One of the illustrations that was part of the patent paperwork is shown below:

Of note, is the fact that the Find A Grave site provides the death announcement for the correct William Barry.  Unfortunately, the photo attached to the site is incorrect.  William Barry is listed, in this 2012 book by Keith Holmes, as one of many Black Americans who have successfully created inventions and received patents in the United States.  

It is my understanding that the wide range of Barry cancels can be found primarily on mail during the 1894-1909 period, so our piece of mail lands nicely in the middle of that time frame.  If you would like to begin learning about U.S. Machine Cancels, I have found "A Collector's Guide to U.S. Machine Postmarks: 1871-1925 by Russell F. Hanmer to be a useful start.

And Here's the Social History Part

The Dixon Crucible Company was initially founded in 1827 by Joseph Dixon (1799-1869) and his spouse, Hannah Martin (1795- 1877), according to this site.   The company was not incorporated as the Joseph Dixon Crucible Company until 1869 (presumably after Joseph's death), remaining open until 1983 when it was merged with the rival pencil maker, Ticonderoga.  In fact, many who read this blog will remember using the yellow Dixon No. 2 pencils while taking standardized tests in school.

His experiments for using graphite to create working crucibles led him to develop the use of graphite for lubricants, pencils, and non-corrosive paints (among other things).  The company was initially housed in Salem, Massachusetts, but it moved to its Jersey City location in 1847 (which is where it remained until the 1980s).

Collier's Oct 5, 1901

It is tempting to think that pencils were broadly accepted at the time Dixon's company began creating them.  However, most people who did much writing used quill and ink pens.  It wasn't until the Civil War that the use of pencils became more widely accepted.  After all, a soldier could probably keep a pencil stub that could be sharpened with their knife far more easily than a jar of ink and a quill.

By the time we get to the early 1900s, Dixon's company had a wide range of products, including products for farm equipment as it moved away from horse power.

The American Thresherman May, 1906

Joseph Dixon was an inventor who held multiple patents for uses of graphite crucibles in pottery and steel making (patents issued in 1850).  He also developed equipment to automate the making of pencils, including a planing machine (1866 patent) that shaped the cedar wood so that it could receive the soft graphite to create a pencil.

The origination of this cover in San Francisco likely illustrates the company's move in the late 1890s to start using Incense Cedar that grows in California for the wood casing of the pencil rather than the Eastern Cedar Cedar found in Tennessee and surrounding states.

Bonus: A Foray into "Evocative Philately"

In December of 2017, Sheryll Ruecker came up with a brilliant topic idea for an online stamp club meeting.  She suggested that we share items that bring strong memories, feelings or images to our minds.  

I appreciated the topic immensely because I believe that many people who enjoy various hobbies make connections that go deeper than "this is a neat item."  So, what does this particular item bring to my mind when I look at it?  So, in honor of Sheryll, I offer this edited version of what I shared with the club:

The wooden pencil.

All I have to do is look at the cover, with the image of a pencil punching through the paper, and I can hear the sound of the pencil sharpener at the elementary school when I was a student.  I remember that there were times we would line up to take a turn sharpening pencils and I remember working desperately hard to use up every tiny bit of each pencil.

How many people can remember sharpening a pencil for the last time where you could barely hold on to it to keep it from just spinning around in the sharpener?

And, what good is a wooden pencil without one of those nice big rubber erasers?  There wasn't a 'backspace' key to hit that made what you wrote go away when you made a mistake.  After a few seconds of scrubbing on the paper you'd have all of these pills of eraser stubble that you had to sweep off the desk with one quick swipe of the hand.  

But, oh, the frustration when you were overly aggressive with that eraser.  How many times did you put a hole in the paper?  Or perhaps you wrinkled the whole sheet up - ugh!

There were some moments in the classroom where everyone was pretty mellow and calm.  Everyone was working on something and no one seemed inclined to make a ruckus.  I can remember putting my head down on the desk next to whatever I was working on.  I realize only kids can do this because it requires a certain amount of flexibility and a ridiculous ability to see things a couple of inches from your face.  But, the odd thing about it was that doing this had the effect of making you feel a bit like you had your own space, even though you were in a room with 20 to 30 other students and a teacher.

There is a certain feel and smell that goes along with wooden flip top desks, paper, pencils and erasers.  I am fortunate that my memories of these times are positive.  I realize some people struggled in school and others were in a school environment that didn't feel safe to them.  I, on the other hand, equate these sensory inputs with an opportunity to create in a secure environment.  There wasn't a huge rush to get it done.  Instead, there was permission to immerse myself in whatever project was before me.  Sometimes it was math, sometimes it was writing, sometimes it was art.  But, whatever it was, the process often involved pencil, paper and eraser.    

I still write and plan with lead pencils of the 'mechanical' variety.  Pencil sharpeners are no longer found at every corner of a library and I rely more on my 'portable office' so I can work in any environment.  The traditional wooden pencil is no longer the best technology for me.  But, I still find myself feeling like I'm in the right place when I pick up a newly sharpened lead and cedar number 2 pencil and put the first figures on the page.  

How does this fit in my collection?

If you have been reading Postal History Sunday for a while, you may recognize that this particular item is unlike many of the things I share here.  So, why is it in my collection?

Well, one of my projects has been to find postal history items that reflect how a small, diversified farm works.  In my opinion, record-keeping is a critical part of the whole operation - and a pencil is one of the few things that writes reliably when you are outside in the rain!

For those who have interest, you can see a sixteen-page exhibit I created that includes the "mighty pencil" on page 14.

------------------------------------------

Thank you again for joining me for Postal History Sunday.  Once again, I find that I have learned MANY new things as I explored a single cover with the idea that I would share with you.  I hope you were entertained and that you, too, learned something new.

Until next week, my wish for you is that you have a fine remainder of the day and good week to come.

Merry Chase - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday!

Grab yourself something to drink and find a comfy chair. This week's PHS entry is going to take us on a "merry chase" that I hope we'll all enjoy!

--------------------------------------

What is a "Merry Chase?"

This is going to be one of those times in Postal History Sunday where I introduce you to a term that is not an "official" postal history or philatelic term.  Instead, I am afraid this is one of those Genuine Faux Farm terms.  At least that's my story and I am sticking to it!

At a stamp show some years ago, a person shared an item that made numerous stops on the way to its eventual destination.  The envelope was covered with a confusing myriad of postal markings, defying anyone to make complete sense of all of the travels it had taken.  As I looked at it, I said, "Well, this sure went on a merry chase."  Much to my surprise, several people were greatly amused by that comment.

Many who collect postal history are attracted to items that clearly had to make multiple stops in the process of attempting to find the recipient.  Sometimes the individual is traveling and the mail has to follow them until both are in the same location.  Perhaps that person's travels are over and the letter has to get sent on to their permanent address.  Maybe global conflict requires some extra travel on the part of the mailed item?

So now... I present you with a  "Merry Chase."  Enjoy.

Choices Choices - Leigh/Liege?
Have you ever thought about how difficult it must be for postal people to deal with all of the bad hand-writing and mistaken addresses on letters and packages?  If you haven't, consider the envelope sent by letter mail in 1858 shown below:

The short story is that this letter was posted in Le Havre, France.  It first went to England - which was NOT the correct destination - and then it went to Belgium.  Aha!  Right country!

The back of this cover shows a fairly decent array of markings that invite us to trace the travels the envelope took as it attempted to find Mr. John Haile.  Don't worry, I'll take some time to decipher these as we go, but if you want to give it a try, click on the image for a larger version of the image.

Postal historians often enjoy letters such as this one because they show a journey that was a bit more complicated than most letters of the time took.  When things go wrong, there is more to explore! The markings on the back of the letter actually help us to tell the story.

1. Le Havre Feb 28, 1858 (on the front)
2. Le Havre A Paris Feb 28 (on the back)
3. Paris A Calais Mar 1 (on the back)
4. London Mar 2 (on the front)
5. Manchester Mar 2 (on the back)
6. Leigh Mar 3 (on the back)
7. Manchester Mar 3 (on the back)
8. London Mar 4 (on the back)
9. Angleterre par Ostende Mar 5 (on the back)
10. Liege Mar 5 (on the back)

But, part of what makes this letter and its journeys interesting is the fact that it all starts with a spelling error.

The sender of this letter had some issues with the correct spelling of Liege, Belgium - calling it “Leigh.”  Then either the clerk on the mail train between LeHavre and Paris or the Le Havre post office had to make a decision.  Did this person really mean Belgium or didn't they?

These clerks had lists of post offices to reference, so I suspect they did a little looking.  Finding no “Leigh” in Belgium, they did find it in England.  And, actually, they probably found it TWICE!  There is a Leigh near Manchester and North Leigh near Oxford (WNW of London).

(*note - there are also Eastleigh, Westleigh and South Leigh in England.  South Leigh is near North Leigh and Westleigh is near Leigh and Eastleigh... that's um, near Southampton - so maybe there were even more options.)

So, the postal clerk decided the person sending this letter must not mean Belgium, they apparently were sending it to England.  The simple letter rate was the same (40 centimes) either way, so now a decision was needed - which Leigh in England?

If we look at the darker ink, we can see that N. Liegh Angleterre (England) appears to have been written to correct the address.  Belgium was crossed out and then "Leigh" is underlined.  To make matters worse, it looks like this person spelled "Leigh" wrong here... maybe even giving us a premonition that it really was "Liege?"

My guess is that they might have found North Leigh and then Leigh.  At that piont they may have crossed out the "N. Liegh" and figured the underlining on "Leigh" would make the point.

Apparently it did, because here is the route the letter took:

1. Feb 28, 1858 - the letter entered the French mail system at Le Havre
2.                       - the letter was on the mail train running from Le Havre to Paris
3. somewhere in steps 1 & 2, the decision was made to send the letter to Leigh, England
   
4. Mar 1, 1858  - the letter was on the mail train from Paris to Calais
5.                      - the Paris to Calais train was an exchange office for mail to England
   
6. Mar 1 or 2    - the letter crossed the English Channel from Calais
7. Mar 2, 1858 - the letter was taken out of the foreign mail bag in London and routed to Leigh.
8.                      - the letter took another train from London to Manchester
9. Mar 3, 1858 - regional letter services probably used coach or other ground transportation and the letter arrived in Leigh, just west of Manchester.

Once the letter arrived in Leigh, the postmaster there probably sighed a little and wrote “Try Liege Belgium” and put it back in the mail stream.  Of course, if you look at what this clerk wrote you could also think he wrote "Try Lieje Belgium."  I guess the writing and spelling issue didn't just belong to the general public?

In any event, now this letter had to retrace some of its steps:

1. Mar 3, 1858 - the letter is returned to Manchester
2. Mar 4, 1858 - the mail train from Manchester gets the letter back to London and the clerks there put the letter in a mailbag destined to Belgium.
3. Mar 4 or 5  - let's cross the English Channel again - going to Belgium this time!
4. March 5 - HEY!  We're in Belgium at the Ostende exchange office.
5. March 5 - Finally, after taking some Belgian trains, we get to Liege.

Similar Letter Rates Fail to Help

Our poor postal clerks guessed and were wrong about what a postal customer intended with their misspelled address.  And, unfortunately for them, the postal rates did not help one bit.

The postal rate for a simple letter from France to Belgium was 40 centimes for a letter weighing no more than 7.5 grams (from Oct 1, 1849 to Mar 31, 1858).

The postal rate for a simple letter from France to the United Kingdom was ALSO 40 centimes for a letter weighing no more than 7.5 grams (Jan 1, 1855 - Dec 31, 1869).

At least the clerks in France got this much right - the letter WAS paid in full to the destination, so they marked the cover with the red "PD" in a box.  The postal clerks in England understood that the letter had been misdirected by post office error, so they also put a "PD" marking in an oval on the cover, to show that they also considered the postage to be paid.

So, let this be a lesson to us all - write your addresses carefully and well, lest your letter take an unwanted trip to another part of the world.  But, if you happen to err, let's hope someone who enjoys tracing the travels of a letter will someday collect that piece of mail and get a little joy out of doing so.

-------------------------

Thank you once again for joining me for this week's Postal History Sunday.  Have a great remainder of your day and a wonderful week to come.

Run Aground! - Postal History Sunday

Another week is at its end while a new one begins.  That can only mean one thing on the Genuine Faux Farm blog.  It's time for Postal History Sunday!

Postal History Sunday (PHS) is a place where the farmer (Rob) can unabashedly share a hobby he enjoys.  In the process, I usually learn something new - and I hope those who read it also pick up a thing or two, even while being entertained.  All who wish to join me here are welcome.  It doesn't matter if you collect stamps or postal history.  I do my best to write these posts so they are of interest to people who have had years collecting as well as any who might like to read something different, even if they do not want to join the hobby.

As always, I am willing to accept criticisms, corrections and questions.  Feel free to leave a comment or use the contact form at the right on this page.

----------------------------------

A Whole Month?

If you have been reading PHS for a while, or if you are someone who knows what I like to collect most, you will recognize that postal history items that have a 24 cent stamp from the 1861 issue of stamps in the United States are my specialty.  You might also notice that I like postal history items of all sorts, especially if there is a story I can decipher as I research.  This week, I get to share something that has both a good story and a 24 cent stamp!

Years ago, an acquaintance of mine showed me a scan of this item.  They had just added it to their collection and they knew I liked postal history with the 24 cent stamp.  Their interest was in the Galesburg, Illinois origin.  But, as I looked at the cover, I saw other reasons to be drawn to it.

The Galesburg June 10 postmark in blue and the July 10, 1867, Glasgow receiving postmark indicate an abnormally long journey to get to its destination. Galesburg was not terribly far from an exchange office (Chicago) and the Grand Trunk Railroad should have delivered the mailbag containing this letter to Quebec in no less than two days time from Chicago. The crossing of the Atlantic typically took no more than 10 to 12 days, thus this letter was delayed for nearly half a month.

Below is an example that left Green Bay, Wisconsin on August 12 and arrived on the Glasgow Packet August 29.  This would be a more typical date range.

When the date range is longer than expected, I usually smell a story that could be told!

Filling in the Timeline

Two postal markings with dates a month apart provided sufficient evidence for me to identify the voyage this letter took to get from Illinois to Scotland.  For those who don't like to read a bunch of text, I offer you this:

Ok.  There's text on the image too.  Never mind!

Once again, the first clue was the long voyage indicated by the two postmarks on the envelope.  The good news is that there are now many resources available to a postal historian to aid in the search for the reasons why the voyage might have been delayed.

Shipping tables compiled by Hubbard and Winter in their book (see reference 7) confirmed for me that the North American was scheduled to leave Quebec in the middle of June in 1867.  The footnotes provided in the book related much of the details seen above, which I could confirm in period newspapers. With the basics readily in hand, I was able to spend more time finding interesting details related to the story.

I frequently remind myself to be grateful for the work others have done and then shared so that others (including myself) might benefit.  I am particularly beholden to Dick Winter for his works on trans-Atlantic mail.

The letter was delivered to the post office in Galesburg, Illinois where the blue postmark was placed on the envelope.  The letter was sent by train to Chicago, which was one of the exchange post offices for mail to be sent to the United Kingdom.  The Chicago foreign mail clerk knew that the quickest route on that date would be through Canada with a sailing on the Allen Line of steamers.  So, the clerk put the red "3 cents" marking on the envelope and put the envelope in a mailbag with other items that were going to go to the UK.  

That is where the envelope stayed UNTIL it got to an exchange office at the destination country - in this case the exchange office was Glasgow - one month later.

The graphic above shows you all of the events that happened while this letter sat in that mailbag. 

Saint Lawrence Seaway Navigation

Navigating the Saint Lawrence Seaway could be tricky and it was not uncommon for ships to encounter difficulties in the 1800’s. In particular, the waters around Anticosti Island were most treacherous, with 106 recorded shipwrecks between 1870 and 1880 despite the existence of lighthouses by that time [1]. The sea lane was used for ocean traffic of all sorts, including the Allen Line mail packets.

For those who might not know, when I reference a "mail packet," I am merely talking about a ship that had a contract to carry the mail.  These ships also carried other cargo and/or passengers.  After all, a few bags of mail weren't going to fill up an ocean-going vessel.

The Perils of Anticosti 

Anticosti Island can be found at the mouth of the St Lawrence Seaway as it enters the Gulf of Lawrence. 

Louis Jolliet, an explorer who initially believed the Seaway would provide water crossing to the Pacific Ocean, was awarded ownership of the island for his service to New France. Starting in 1680, he ran a fur trading and fishing business from the north shore of the island until it was raided by New Englanders in 1690. After that, his son divided and oversaw operations on the island for the next 40 years [2]. 

By the 1860s, an estimated 2000 ships passed the island each summer but it was sparsely inhabited [1]. The island is now owned by the Quebec government, serving as a popular game and fishing reserve. 

Anticosti Island is not a small obstruction in the St Lawrence Seaway, having 360 miles of shoreline and covering 3100 square miles. It is surrounded by a reef that can reach out a mile and a half from the visible shoreline in places. The reef, combined with a strong current led to numerous shipwrecks resulting in losses lives and property [2].

Strong currents and reefs could certainly be mapped and lighthouses were built to help for nighttime navigation. However, experienced Seaway navigators recognized variations in compass readings could ALSO lead the unwary to run aground. An editorial to the Quebec Mercury in 1827 included observations from a mariner of that time:

“… it would be well that all ships at every opportunity should try experiments on the variation of the compass. I am fully of opinion that it does, and has increased. Since my first coming up the St. Lawrence, and very lately from experiments made, I found six degrees more variation than ever I expected, of my courses steered.” [3]

Wrecks on Anticosti Island from 1820-1911 by Department of Marine and Fisheries, Quebec Agency

These variations are known to be due to the shifting magnetic pole and its dramatic effect on compass readings as one goes further north on the globe. The treacherous nature of the waters around Anticosti caused many ships to employ a local navigator for the run into and out of the Seaway.

The Allan Line and the Mail

The Province of Canada was very interested in supporting a steamship company that based itself out of Canada rather than continuing to be tied to the United Kingdom’s Cunard Line. In 1855, the Montreal Ocean Steamship Company (known as the Allan Line) secured a contract to carry Canadian mail, which it proceeded to carry out upon the return of their ships from the Crimean War (Oct 5, 1853 - Mar 20, 1856) [4]. Allan Line ships departed Quebec (Riviere du Loup) in the summer when the St Lawrence Seaway was free of ice. During the winter months, the Allan Line left from Portland, Maine to cross the Atlantic.

The Canadian and United States governments reached an agreement in November of 1859 that granted the Allan Line a contract to carry American mail [7]. Mail from the United States was sorted and placed in secured mailbags in United States exchange offices (usually Detroit, Chicago or Portland).  Occasionally, a bag from the Boston exchange office (and rarely, New York) would also travel on the Allen Line steamers.

In most exchange offices, each piece of mail was hand stamped with a red (paid) or black (unpaid) marking that included the city name of the exchange office and a date. If you scroll back up to view the second cover I shared here, you will see a red Detroit exchange marking that includes the city, date and 3 cents credit.

Chicago, on the other hand, often employed a credit marking that gave the amount credited to the foreign mail service with the word ‘cents’ in an arc underneath.  But, Chicago typically did not include a marking with the city and date for letters bound for an Allan Line ship.

Mailbags left the Detroit and Chicago offices via the Grand Trunk Railroad to their Quebec (summer) or Portland (winter) port departures [5].

Mails sent from the United States to Britain were governed by the 1848 postal convention which remained in force until the end of 1867. Under this treaty, letters from the United States to Scotland required postage at the rate of 24 cents (1 shilling) for up to a half ounce of letter weight. 

The postage collected was split between the British and US postal services in the following manner: 5 cents for US surface mail, 16 cents for the country who contracted the mail packet and 3 cents for British surface mail [5]. The red “3 cents” marking indicated that 3 cents were owed to the British postal system by the US postal system. The Allan Line ship was under contract to carry mails with the United States, thus 16 cents were kept by the US to pay the Allan Line.

The North American 
The North American was a single screw, 1715 gross ton ship that was originally named the Briton at the point William Denny & Brothers laid the keel in 1855. The ship was launched as the North American on January 26, 1856 and took her maiden voyage from Liverpool to Quebec on April 23 of that same year. The ship was able to accommodate 425 passengers and served as one of the fleet of mail packets for the Allan Line. 

 In 1871, the ship was moved to a Liverpool – Norfolk – Baltimore route until it was sold in 1873. At this point, the ship was converted to a sailing vessel and was used as such until it went missing in 1885 during a trip from Melbourne to London [6].

On June 16 of 1867, the North American ran aground on the south shore reef of Anticosti Island outbound to the Atlantic Ocean from Quebec. All passengers and crew survived the incident, spending some time on the island. Accounts indicate that they enjoyed picnics of fresh trout and were treated well by a Mr. and Mrs. Burns, who lived on the island at that time. 

The home occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Burns was furnished with material from other wrecks and they had survived a shipwreck themselves fourteen years earlier [1]. The St George picked up the passengers and the mail, taking them to St. Johns, Newfoundland. This same steamer would eventually arrive in Glasgow on July 11, the same time as the mail, just a different transport.

The North American was successfully refloated and towed to Quebec for repairs, resuming its services to the Allan Line on November 12, 1868.

Present Day Story

Bringing all of this back to the present - if you will recall, I had mentioned that someone else was the caretaker for this piece of postal history when I first discovered the beginnings of what is an interesting story.  Once I shared my initial findings with the individual who shared the image with me, they arranged for me to become the new caretaker of this piece of history.  And, that, as you probably have guessed, encouraged me to continue digging into this story over the years.

The other good news is that this individual also found another cover with a 24 cent stamp for their collection not long afterwards.  

You have now had the opportunity to read my latest rendition of the story as I continue to learn more about it.  Will it be my last attempt?  That's unlikely as it has become one of my favorite postal artifacts in my collection over the years.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you again for joining me for this latest offering of Postal History Sunday.  Have a good remainder of your day and an outstanding week to come.

Resources for today's PHS
[1]  Mackay, D. Anticosti: The Untamed Island, McGraw-Hill, 1979.
[2] Henderson, B. Anticosti Island, KANAWA Magazine, Winter 2003 Issue, http://paddlingcanada.com/kanawa/issues/winter03.php, last viewed 1/15/06.
[3] Quebec Mercury #41, Tuesday, May 22, 1827, Page 241.
[4] Arnell, J.C. Steam and the North Atlantic Mails, Unitrade Press, 1986, p 224-5.
[5] Hargest, G.E. History of Letter Post Communication Between the United States and Europe 1845:1875, 2^nd Ed, Quarterman Publications, 1975, p 133-136.
[6] Bonsor, N.R.P. North Atlantic Seaway, vol. 1, Prescott: T. Stephenson & Sons, 1955, p. 307.
[7] Hubbard, W.  & Winter, R.F. North Atlantic mail Sailings 1840-1875, U.S. Philatelic Classics Society, 1988, 129-30,148.

Up, Up and Away - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the GFF Postal History Blog and Postal History Sunday, which has just celebrated one full year of weekly posts!

Let's start today's offering by taking all of our troubles and worries and tearing them into little strips.  Once we've done that, we can mix them with the straw in our poultry bedding.  After the birds have had some time to kick it all around and add a little manure, we'll move it all to the compost.  Composting is amazing and can turn all kinds of waste into good things.  Hey!  It works for newspaper and food scraps, so why not all that stuff that weighs on you from day to day?

Now, grab your favorite beverage - but keep it away from the postal history!  Put on some fuzzy slippers and sit back.  Maybe we'll all learn something new!

-----------------------

There are things in postal history and philately that are popular and desired by nearly all participants in the hobby.  It's not unlike popular destinations in the world.  If I mention US National Parks, most people will reference Yosemite or the Grand Canyon as two locations that they want to see at least once in their lifetime.  If someone travels to Paris, the Eiffel Tower is probably on the "to visit" list.  

Popular areas in philately and postal history include zeppelin mail, first stamp issues for a country, and balloon mail (just to name a few).  

If you are a postal historian, it is likely you would love to have an example of mail carried out of Paris by a manned balloon flight during the siege by the Prussians in 1870 - 1871.  I am no exception - and here is the lone example that now resides in my collection and is under my care:

My primary interests in postal history fall within the 1850 to 1875 period, so balloon mail during the siege clearly qualifies.  While there are many balloon covers from Paris that stayed in France, I am more attracted to those that left the country.  So, I passed on other opportunities over the years until a recent auction showed up with numerous items to destinations outside of France.

Happily, I was able to acquire a letter that ultimately went to the United Kingdom - and the journey from Paris was an interesting one.

What the Markings Tell Us

Let's start by looking at the cover itself and see what it tells us as we read it.

The letter content is dated January 2, 1871 and this folded letter sheet was mailed in Paris on January 2, 1871.  The circular marking in black at the bottom right of the cover is the postal marking that was applied at the Paris post office that received the letter for mailing.

The marking reads:  Paris  Bt Malesherbes, 6E, Janv 2, 1871.  Remember, you can click on each image for a larger version.  

 

If you look closely at the postage stamps, you will see the number "37" in the series of dots that cancel the them.  This number (37) also appears in the red circular marking to the left of the stamps.  These numbers are consistent with the district office number assigned by the French postal system to the branch post office on the Boulevard Malesherbes.  At present, I am not certain why the red marking was struck on this letter in addition to the black cancellation.  (does anyone out there know?)

Yes, it does seem a little bit much to have three markings to indicated that this particular Paris post office took this letter in - but that's what we have here.  Maybe there was a clerk that was REALLY concerned that everyone knew they were still doing their job despite the fact that the whole city was surrounded by unfriendly troops?

This is a prepaid letter to a destination outside of France, so a marking with PD in a box was applied to show that the 30 centimes required were paid by the stamps (one 20 centime and the other 10 centime).

For those of you who might be curious, the table shown above lists the postage rates for letter mail from France to the United Kingdom.  The letter in question would fall under the third rate period shown here, so the letter could not have weighed more than 10 grams.

The reverse of this letter shows a marking for its reception in Brighton, England on January 11.

It took nine days for this letter to travel from France to England.  For context, I have several other examples from this time period where letter mail might take a single day to reach its destination.  Because of the long time period between markings, it seems there is an interesting story to tell.

It just so happens that all of the rail lines and roads leaving Paris were blocked by German forces starting September 19, 1870 until January 28, 1871.  That would certainly explain delays in the delivery of mail from Paris.  Early attempts to smuggle mail out by land had proved to be inefficient.  So, if you can't go through the lines, it made sense to go OVER.

That brings us to this:

The words "par Ballon monte" appear on most of the letters carried by manned balloons that left Paris during the siege by German forces.  It's at this point that we use the knowledge of balloon flights that have been accumulated by numerous persons over the years who have studied the creative ways mail was carried during the 1870-1 Siege of Paris.

Following the Letter's Path

We know three things from the letter itself.

1. It entered the Paris postal service on January 2 at Blvd Malesherbes.
2. It was received in England on January 11
3. The docket at the top left makes a claim that this was to be carried on a manned balloon flight (ballon monte) 

Other things we know from history to help us figure things out:

1. The only reliable method of getting mail out of Paris during the siege was via Ballon Monte.
2. Not every flight went as it might have been hoped.
3. Successfully flown Ballon Monte mail was typically taken to a French post office in unoccupied territory so the French postal service could continue the delivery process.
   

There are significant resources from which we can pull out dates and other facts that can confirm (or deny) whether our letter really did take a trip on a balloon as part of the process of getting to its destination.  If the facts of a particular flight fit with our postal markings, we can be fairly certain how this cover got from here to there.

The first balloon launch carrying mail was on September 23, 1870 and a total of 66 balloon flights are recorded as having carried mail from Paris during the siege.  A photo taken of the first balloon flight (the Neptune) is shown at the left and was taken from the Wikimedia Commons. 

The closest balloon departure to our January 2  and January 11 postmarks would be the balloon called the Newton that departed the Gare d'Orleans on January 4 at 1 A.M.  It doesn't hurt to get a picture of where our letter started and where it went next in Paris, so I offer up this amended 1864 map of the city.

We need to remember that these balloons, filled with coal gas, could do very little to steer.  They were left to rely on the winds to take them where they will.  In the case of the Newton, the light winds were out of the East and the balloon took a WSW flight in fog, traveling 110 km and landing in German occupied territory at 10:30 AM that morning near Digny.  The balloon flight is in dark blue/purple on the map below.

Because the balloon had landed in German occupied territory, the pilot and his passenger hid the mail and it was not until January 6 that the regular mail's progress continued.  The pilot, Aimé Ours, was able to place the mail bags containing the regular mail at the post office in Mortagne on January 9.

From Mortagne, the mail was taken by coach to Alencon and then by train via the LeMans-Cherbourg line to the English Channel.  A coastal ship carried the mail to Calais where it boarded a Channel steamer to Dover in England.

And thus an arrival nine days later on January 11 is justified by a very interesting, and complex, journey.

Who and What Was On That Balloon?

This balloon was piloted by Aimé Ours, quartermaster of the French Navy, detached from Fort de Rosny. He was accompanied by an officer charged with a mission for Léon Gambetta, Amable Brousseau. The balloon was loaded with six bags of letters weighing a total of 310 kg and a basket containing four pigeons to be used for return messages to Paris.

The flight took place in a thick fog and the pilot and passenger had little idea where they were until they landed. The two men dressed and acted as agricultural workers to avoid detection.  The balloon was folded, rolled up with ropes and buried while the basket was set on fire to avoid discovery by the Germans who were patrolling the area. 

Brousseau was able to take the "confided" and "privileged" mail, getting it to Alencon by January 5th.  Aimé Ours was eventually able to get the regular mail, including this letter, to Mortagne-s-Huisne on January 9, where it continued its voyage to England. 

This site (in French) includes more details about the flight and the pilot for those who might like to read more.  The image shown above is purported by the referenced site (philatelistes.net) to be Aimé Ours.

Gare d'Orleans

The Gare d'Orleans was the terminal railway station for the line that left Paris to the South towards, of course, Orleans.  Since the Paris railway stations were not in use due to the siege, the large buildings provided an opportunity for the construction and housing of balloons for the purposes of sending mail and messages from Paris to the rest of the world.

Gare d'Orleans housed the work directed by the company created by balloonist Eugene Pierre Godard.  An assembly line included seamstresses to sew the balloon itself and sailors braiding ropes and halliards.  The image shown above is from a wood carving created by Charles Pichot and published in the book, Histoire de la Révolution de 1870 71 by Jules Claretie.  The image can be found on page 389.

Soon after the departure of the Newton, the Germans began a bombardment of Paris that damaged the Gare d'Orleans and operations were removed to Gare du Nord and Gare de l'Est.  I believe the last flight from the Gare d'Orleans railway station was the Kepler on January 11th, but I have not had the time to confirm that fact.

What Was In That Letter?

There are numerous reasons why I can only give little snippets as to the contents of this letter. The most obvious, of course, is that the content was in French, which I can read with aid when the text is typed or very well-written.  But, what happens when you add inconsistent hand-writing and references to events, sayings, and people you do not know?  Well, it gets pretty difficult to decipher it all.

The opening probably should not surprise us since it is written by people who have been under the stress of siege for over three months.  

"As we thought of you, my dear ones, at the start of this year there will be so many worries and sorrows for the future!"

At this point in time, the people of Paris were having to be innovative in their acquisition and preparation of food.  There are numerous stories regarding innovative ways to serve rat, cat, dog and other animals that could be found for meat.  Even the unfortunate animals in the zoo were offered up for public consumption (giraffe anyone?).

The letter mentions the fact that the colder weather in January was tough on everyone and trees were being cut down to keep people warm.  

Perhaps one of these days I will manage a full translation, but in the interests of actually producing a Postal History Sunday on time, we'll just have to consider doing more on that front for an update post!

Do You Want to Learn More?

There are numerous studies and publications that can provide you with a start if you want to learn more about Ballon Monte mail and how communications were maintained during the Siege of Paris.

New Studies of the Transport of Mails In Wartime France 1870-1 by Brown, Cohn & Walske.  Published in 1986, this work has been scanned in and made available to the public.  This work shows exactly the level of detail that has been uncovered for these interesting stories in history.

A 2016 Robert A Siegel auction included a large lot of covers that were covered by balloon mail.  This just provides us with an example of what a specialist in this area might accomplish as they study the postal artifacts.

The recent 2021 sale by Schuyler Rumsey provided a summary of each balloon flight represented by an item in that auction.  This provides interested persons with an opportunity to view actual pieces of mail carried on those flights and get a start on the background for each.

Other items are linked in the text of this Postal History Sunday, but I include them here as well:

Horne, Alistair, The Fall of Paris: Siege and the Commune 1870-71, Penguin Books, 2007 (1st published in 1965). 

The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, lithograph and biography for Eugene Godard, aeronaut.

Claretie, Jules, Histoire de la Révolution de 1870 71 for the journal L'Eclipse, Paris, 1872.

There are many, MANY other references that a person could find and peruse.  I will be the first to admit that my expertise on this topic is limited and I bow to the work of so many others.  Nonetheless, it sure has been fun to learn something new!

See you next week!