Twelve Covers for a Christmas Postal History Sunday

Welcome to a special Christmas edition of Postal History Sunday.  I figured it was appropriate since Christmas falls on a Sunday this year.  The theme this week is inspired by the song, the Twelve Days of Christmas.  For those who are not familiar, the song begins with the first day of Christmas, which would be TODAY, and it continues until January 5.  But, since I don't really want to spread this out with twelve different blog posts - we'll just do them all here.

If you want to hear a rendition of the tune that inspired the blog post, I find the pandemic-inspired version by Pentatonix to be entertaining and well-done. It was one of many creative projects released that helped me, and likely many others, get through difficult times.  If the music isn't your thing, I suggest this well-cited wikipedia page on the history of the tune to engage those that like history and interesting background information.

And now, without further ado or preamble, I present

Twelve Covers for a Christmas Postal History Sunday

And, no, I am NOT going to type out each one over and over for subsequent verses. If that is critical for your enjoyment, I suggest you get used to using your mouse's scroll button and re-read the pertinent section.

So, the first cover for a Christmas Postal History Sunday features

ONE wrapper band on a newspaper

This Belluna, Italy, newspaper dated March 2, 1871, was enclosed by a paper wrapper band that served as a surface for the mailing address and postage.  The band also kept the newspaper together and prevented it from inconveniently opening up while it was in transit through the mail services.  The newspaper arrived at the Vittorio post office the same day it was mailed according the marking on the other side of the wrapper.

Wrapper bands were just one way items that qualified for reduced postage as printed matter could be mailed so that postal clerks could readily inspect the contents. To qualify items could not include personal messages and their presence would void the privilege of that reduced postage.  With a wrapper band, postal clerk could, if they wanted to, slip the item out of the wrapper, take a good look, and then slide it back in.  However, I can tell you that I have not slipped this newspaper out of the band myself.  After all, I can't read Italian all that well and I suspect the news might be a bit dated.

For those who are interested, this item was featured in a June Postal History Sunday.
 

TWO sides of a cover for an item mailed TWICE

Shown above is a circular (a letter or advertisement sent to a large number of people) that was sent in 1865 from Etna to Dryden, New York to Edward Welsh.  The lower half of the folded letter shows a very light Etna postmark dated April 7, 1865.  Mr. Welsh returned this letter via the postal service on April 10, sending it back after signing an agreement to perform some work, to the Town Clerk in Etna.  To avoid confusion, he crossed out his name and address.

There are two, two-cent postage stamps, each paying the rate for an unsealed circular in each direction it was mailed and giving us a fair number of two's for the second cover for Christmas.  If you would like to learn more about this item and the idea of a turned cover, you can check out this Postal History Sunday from March of 2021.

THREE feeds for one cent!

This advertising cover from the International Stock Food Company in 1905 certainly catches the eye.  And, if you do any work with animals, I think you would agree with me that it is highly unlikely that pigs, cows and horses would ever smile like this.  I don't think their facial muscles work that way.  

As far as the three feeds for one cent, it isn't entirely clear to me what they meant by it.  Do they have three types of feed that are mixed differently for different livestock and they all have the same price?  How much would I have gotten for a penny?

I'm not sure right now, but give me time and maybe I'll figure it out.

The International Stock Food Company still exists and is currently based in Canada, but at the time this cover was mailed the main factory was housed in Minneapolis, Minnesota (with another in Toronto).  The building there had formerly been an exposition building constructed in 1886 and housing an International Exposition that same year.  It was also the site of the 1892 Republican National Convention. The building was used as an entertainment venue until Marion Willis (Will) Savage purchased the building in 1903 for his growing feed business. 

photo of Minneapolis, MN factory circa 1900, courtesy Library of Congress

And, just because I like adding additional color to postal history items, Will Savage grew up in West Branch, Iowa, and worked as a clerk at the drug store.  His feeds took advantage of his pharmaceutical knowledge.  Savage also owned race horses, using their success to promote his feed.  He purchased a horse named Dan Patch for $60,000 in 1902 and that same horse set a record that would stand for almost 50 years at the Minnesota State Fair in 1906.

FOUR cents for a small envelope to a radiator shop

The brown four-cent postage stamp on this small envelope to the Groves Radiator Shop in Nashville, Tennessee, was a design that had many denominations (postage amounts) and depicted George Washington.  The design itself dates this item to some point in the 1910s to early 1920s.  At that time, a radiator shop might refer to the wide range of radiators in motorized vehicles, which were becoming more commonplace.  Or, it could refer to home heating devices.  Until I locate more specific information (if it exists) I'll not presume.  But, since we are talking Nashville and NOT Minneapolis, I suspect there was a bit less demand for heating.

I remember being in a shop when I was younger that had drawers of these envelopes.  Each one held a different part for the technician who worked there.  There were rubber gaskets and formed metal parts, among other things.  They were all organized with appropriate labels so the correct part could be quickly found.

An electrotype is a method of reproducing metal forms, creating precise copies of an original by running an electrical charge through a solution to deposit metal into a mold.  With a name like "Artistic Ad Company" this may not be radiator parts as I initially thought.  Perhaps someday I'll figure it out.  But for now - this simply serves as the fourth cover for a Christmas Postal History Sunday.

FIVE centimes due

It's hard to ignore the big bold "5 c" on this cover.  This 1864 letter from Madrid, Spain to France has a 12 cuarto postage stamp paying the postage required to get the letter from here to there.  Except for one thing.  The recipient had to pay a 5 centime "droit de factage" or "drayage right" for incoming mail from Spain.

We actually talked about this a couple of weeks ago, but I won't make you go back to that post unless you want to.  The Spanish collected a delivery charge of 1 cuarto for all incoming mail from other countries (called "derecho de cartero").  This practice continued despite a postal agreement with France that went into effect on February 2, 1860 that indicated payment of postage should cover all costs to the destination.  As a result, the French added their 5 centime droit de factage for incoming letters from Spain (but not other countries) in retaliation.

SIX different postmarks

Ok, you could argue that there are only FIVE different postal markings on this folded letter mailed from Switzerland to France in 1864.  But, what you don't see here is that the sixth is on the back (or verso) of this item.  

The great thing, in the eyes of a postal historian, about letters from this time period is that you can track the progress of a letter based on these markings.  The difficulty, sometimes, is that the meaning of the marking may not always be perfectly clear without a little research or help from other knowledgeable postal historians.

For example, this marking doesn't seem to give much information - at least not if we don't know what the "7" and the "A-E-D" stand for.  AED is an acronym that means "Affranchi a l'Etranger jusqu'a Destination" or "foreign mail paid to destination."  It serves the same purpose as the P.D. markings we often reference in Postal History Sunday (payee a destination).  The seven, on the other hand identifies the French exchange office, which is Huningue, located on the river that serves as border between the two countries.

And since we just focused on the number "seven" in the explanation for "six," we should move on to...

SEVEN stamps pay the postage

The envelope shown above was mailed from the then German colony of Kamerun to Geneve Switzerland in 1909.  The international letter rate (set by the Universal Postal Union) was 20 pfennig, which is overpaid here by 1 pfennig or seven copies of the 3 pfennig stamp issued for Kamerun.

These postage stamps featured the Kaiser's Imperial Yacht, SMJ Neue Hohenzollern, and the design was the same for each German Colony at that time. These stamps are often referred to as a "keytype" series because the same printing plates could be used except for the portion of the design that held the colony name, denomination, and currency.  You can get an introduction to the stamps of the German Colonies here if you have an interest. 

While there were 20 pfennig stamps created for Kamerun, this did not necessarily mean that they were always readily available to postal customers, which might give us a possible reason why this individual sent a letter with seven copies of the 3 pfennig stamp.  We're just glad they did because we could feature the cover in this slot of today's post.

EIGHT pictures of Amersfoort

This item is actually a very small envelope, which you can get a feel for when you recognize how big the stamp looks in comparison to the envelope.  The word "Drukwerk" indicates that this item qualified for the printed matter rate.  In other words, the content was "mass produced" and no personal message or individualized content was included.  

The envelope itself was not sealed shut.  Instead, it had a little slit in the back that allowed the tip of the envelope flap to tuck into it to keep the contents inside.

As for the contents....

There are eight small photocards of the sights one could see in Amersfoort in the Netherlands.  The cards themselves were originally connected to each other and the envelope.  They could be separated (as some of them are now) by tearing them apart at the perforations.

Perhaps one of the most unique photos of the eight is a picture of a large boulder called "De Kei." Apparently, a man named Everhard Meyster discovered a large boulder and bet his friends that he could get citizens to drag that rock into the city.  After a fair amount of "liquid encouragement" (beer) and fresh biscuits, he got several hundred individuals to do just that.

Afterwards, those who did drag the boulder into town were ridiculed and the rock was buried to hide their shame in 1672.  However, the story lived on and it was uncovered and placed on a pedestal as a symbol of pride rather than shame in 1903.

A meeting to attend on the NINTH day of the month

On the ninth day of June, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences was to meet in Boston.  At least that's what Chauncey Wright, the Recording Secretary was telling us in yet another printed matter item in this list of twelve covers.

I will never know if Joseph Hale Abbott of Beverly (near Boston) actually attended the event.  But, clearly, the letter WAS received and the invitation was kept.  How do I know that?  Well, this item is in my collection rather than being burnt in Abbot's fireplace.  That seems like a good hint that he had interest!

Joseph Hale Abbot from wikimedia commons

Abbott does appear in Appleton's Cyclopaedia of American Biography, volume I, and his entry actually gives us some support that he might very well have attended.  After all, he was, for several years, the recording secretary for the Academy himself!  He also contributed many scientific papers on hydraulics and pneumatics to the journal published by this group.

This time "X" doesn't mean "TEN" - unless I want it to

By this point, you have probably figured out that I did not want to succumb to using numbers from the same aspect of each cover to fill each of the twelve covers for a Christmas Postal History Sunday.  I wanted to have a little fun with it and I was hoping you might enjoy the process as well!

This time around, we're going to feature the great big "X" in the middle of the cover shown above.  However, this "X" doesn't mean "ten" as you might think if it were referencing the Roman numeral.  And, the "X" does not mark "the spot" either!  Instead, the big bold "X" was a way for the postal clerk to indicate to the carrier of this letter that the postage was paid and that they did not need to collect more postage from the recipient.

For those who might like to learn more, other covers to Mantova are shown in this Postal History Sunday from a few months ago.  It shows another item that was fully paid and one that was not.

ELEVEN days travel to get to Galway

At this point, I am very surprised that there has not been a cover that features the 24-cent US postage stamp I like so much.  Well, never fear - I've found one that meets my needs for the 11th cover.

This letter was mailed in 1863 from Lynn, Massachusetts, to London, England.  The cost was twenty-four cents for a letter weighing no more than one half ounce and this item clearly met that requirement. There are several markings that show us it was considered "paid."  Two markings from Lynn, one from Boston and one from London all agreed the sender paid the proper duty.

The Hibernia, a ship that belonged to the Galway Line at the time, carried this letter.  It left Boston on November 3 and arrived ELEVEN days later at Galway.  The truly interesting thing for me about this cover is that the Galway Line carried very little of the mail.  According to Reports of the Postmaster General from 1864, only 1.8% of the trans-Atlantic mail traveled on Galway ships during the fiscal year.  In contrast, the Cunard Line took 43% and the Inman Line 20% across the sea to the United Kingdom.

TWELVE cent stamps times two mailed on the TWELFTH day of the TWELFTH month

I am not certain how I can get any better than this for the 12th cover for a Christmas Postal History Sunday. Rather than try to explain the cover more, I'm just going to rest on my laurels for a job well done.

I hope you enjoyed this edition of Postal History Sunday. 

I wish you and yours the best and that you have the chance to be among those you care for most at this time of year - regardless of what holidays you may, or may not, choose to celebrate.  Merry Christmas to you and Happy Holidays to all.

Trains of Thought - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday, featured weekly on the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you take this link, you can view every edition of Postal History Sunday, starting with this one (the most recent always shows up at the top).

 

This week, we're actually going to start with an item that was probably more of a souvenir piece than a postal history piece.  But, the advertising envelope is interesting to me and it provides a colorful opening to the topic of trains and the mail.

The Rock Island Railroad ran through my hometown of Newton, Iowa, when I was growing up.  And, like many kids at the time, I had some fascination with railroads and trains.  My grandfather had a Lionel, O-gauge set of model trains in the basement that we would get to see him run during some visits.  I was even fortunate enough to have some of my own HO-gauge trains and I favored pieces that featured rail companies I saw in real life, like the Rock Island line.

This particular cover was clearly intended to advertise the Rock Island passenger trains that were serving the central part of the United States.  But, it specially highlights the route to southern California via the "Golden State" route or train.  The envelope itself was probably sent by or to a stamp collector because the postage stamp commemorating railroad train engineers (issued in 1950) was used to pay the 3 cents internal letter mail rate.  It is even possible that the recipient, Joe Keefe, mailed this envelope in another envelope so that he could have this mailed to him.  It was not uncommon for collectors who sought specific postmarks to send items care of the post office to have just such an item postmarked and sent back.

Chi. W.Lib. & Om. E.D.  Train 9 - Railway Post Office

It gets a bit more interesting when we look at the postal marking dated May 5, 1954 (an enhanced image helps us see it a bit better).  The abbreviations on the marking stand for Chicago, West Liberty and Omaha, Eastern Division, which would be the name of the Railway Postal Office where the letter was mailed.  These passenger trains typically had a car dedicated to carry the mail and these were staffed by mail clerks that sorted mail and could process mail on board.  It is possible a passenger on "Train 9" saw the envelope and decided to send the letter.  It is also possible that this particular stamp was made available on the train to encourage just this sort of mailing.  In the end, I'll likely never know the original motivation for sending this item to Keefe.

And, just to do this thing right... the RMS in the football shaped cancellation stands for Railway Mail Service.  And now you know.

from a May 1957 schedule brochure

Trains 9 and 10 were known as the "Corn Belt Rocket," with Train 9 outgoing from Chicago and Train 10 outgoing from Omaha.  So, this particular envelope was mailed by someone heading west on the Corn Belt Rocket - one of the twenty Rockets advertised on the cover.

You can see Train 9's schedule in 1957, 4th column

While I was not able to find a schedule for 1954, I did find this one on the Streamliner Memories site from the same brochure the prior image was from.  Train 9 on the Corn Belt Rocket was an overnight express for passengers, hence the emphasis on reclining seats and the availability of pillows.  A Chicago departure at 10 PM would get you to Omaha at 8:15 the next morning.  And, as a side note, the train would likely pass through my home town at about 4:30 AM, but it was not scheduled to stop there.  It did, however, make a stop at Newton at 2:42 PM on the return trip from Omaha.

Corn Belt Rocket, 1967, near Grinnell.  Photo Ron Goodenow

The return trip on Train 10 would leave just before mid-day from Omaha, so most photos of the Corn Belt Rocket would be east-bound, like the 1967 photo shown above.  By the time we reach the 1960s, passenger services offered by the Rock Island Railroad and other railroads were in decline.  And, the US Post Office was also moving away from Railway Post Offices.  While they did have Highway Post Offices for routes that did not have corresponding train service, the real reason to reduce the use of traveling post offices was the proliferation of automated sorting equipment in the non-mobile offices, something that helps explains the addition of the Zip code to addresses in the US.

Speaking of Zip codes, some folks might remember Mr. Zip - but for those who do not, here is a quick summary of who Mr. Zip was.  You can even listen to Ethel Merman sing the Zip code song (scroll to the bottom of that page).  Or maybe you prefer this version with the Swingin' Six?

Train 10 arrives in Des Moines.  Apr 15, 1960.  Photo Ed Wojtas

An excellent two-part article titled the Rise and Decline of the Rock Island Passenger Train in 20th Century by Paul C Nelson was published in the Annals of Iowa (1971).  This article provides an in-depth look at the process that took an inefficient passenger service and turned it into a successful enterprise - at least for a little while.  Part II of this article can be viewed here, you will need to search and find the download link for Part I.

photo by David Sebben, 10/24/18

According to Nelson, the last of the steam engines providing passenger-service for the Rock Island Railroad had been retired by 1954, with the last steam engines documented to be serving in this capacity being in 1952.  Replacing them were the shiny new diesel-powered engines with their streamlined profile.  Rock Island actively promoted their new engines and enhanced services, using the "Rocket" motif effectively.  But, by 1961, demand for passenger train services was waning as increased access to cars and planes made train travel less attractive.  Yet, Rock Island, with its fleet of Rockets, maintained its passenger service longer than its competitors in the state, attempting to cut costs by removing more expensive services, such as dining cars.

Trains and the Mail

image from Colorado Railroad Museum

The development of rail service and the expansion of the use of postal mail services are strongly linked in many parts of the world.  The first official carriage of the mail via train is acknowledged to have been in the the United Kingdom (November 1830) as was the first processing of mail on board a train (1838).  In the United States, the first official mail contract for a railroad to carry the mail was in 1834.  A very good online summary can be found at this site.  If you want to dig deeper, I recommend Hugh Feldman's work on the subject of early mail contracts with railways.

The Railway Mail Service officially started in 1869 after a couple of experimental services in 1862 and 1864 (this last was run between Chicago and Clinton, Iowa).  Dedicated mail cars would be attached to trains that would run specific routes, picking up mail, sorting mail, and dropping it off along the way. 

If this topic interests you, the Smithsonian has several online pieces on the Railway Mail Service, including some oral history with recordings of some of those who worked in these mail cars for the RMS. 

Hobbyists who enjoy the history of the railroads, model railroading, stamps, and postal history tend to be among the most willing to dig into details and share their findings with others.  As a result, a person can get started in collecting postal history that features Railway Post Office (RPO) markings and find a fair amount of resources.  A good summary of that collecting area can be found here, at the TPO and Seapost Society website.

In France, rail development can actually be tracked, to a certain extent by simply taking a look at the markings on letters sent in the mail.  Railway postmarks often featured two locations (the two terminal points of the route), in this case, Nantes and Paris, along with the date and a designation for the railway crew (or train).  The obliterating postmark would be applied to deface the postage stamp so it could not be reused, but even it has the letters "NP" - for Nantes-Paris.  The ordering of the names mattered, because it told everyone which direction the train was heading (from Nantes towards Paris).  If it were going the other way, it would read Paris A Nantes and the cancellation would read "PN."

Some countries, such as Switzerland, would include the word "Ambulant" to indicate that the letter had been processed in a mobile post office (see the top right marking on the 1867 letter above).  It was possible that more than one railway post office could put a marking on any given letter.  Essentially, each time a group of letters was re-sorted on a new train, the letters would likely receive a postmark.

Think of it this way.  The train picks up mail in Zurich, Switzerland - in the middle of the country.  The clerks on the train might sort letters to France and Italy into different places.  The letters to France and Italy would likely get put onto different trains in Basel where they might get sorted based on regions in their respective country.  And this might be repeated yet again, depending on the processes adopted by each country's postal service.

The back of this envelope mailed in 1869 in Belgium for Switzerland shows multiple progress points.  The marking at the right is a Belgian railway marking that reads "Suisse MIDI II."  This refers to the MIDI station in Brussels where mail was likely sorted into bags by country (or perhaps it was sorted on the train leaving MIDI station, I do not know this answer).  The letter must have gone from Belgium to France where it traveled to Pontarlier, which sits near the border of Switzerland.  The middle marking reads "Pontarlier - n - Berne" which would be another traveling or railway post office marking.  Finally, the letter was received at the Bern post office to be delivered to the recipient.

There are people who specialize in finding postmarks for as many railway post offices as they are able to. Some will focus on a geographic region and often they will only consider a specific time period for that region.  Others are generalists who love to find everything and anything related to railway post offices.  But, I like these markings because they give me more clues to figure out how any given item got from point A to point B.  

That, and I was able to identify a colorful letter that likely passed by my hometown on a railroad line I am familiar with.

There you are!  Another Postal History Sunday in the books.  Thank you for joining me and I hope you found something to like in this week's entry.  

Have a fine remainder of your day and a great week to come!

Visiting the Arctic Circle - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday, featured weekly on the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you take this link, you can view every edition of Postal History Sunday, starting with this one (the most recent always shows up at the top). 

This is the moment where I (the farmer and postal historian) gives myself the opportunity to share some things that interest me with others who may enjoy it.  Please take a moment to take off your shoes, put on some fluffy socks and check any baggage you might have from the week at the door.

Let me remind everyone that you can click on an image to see more details in a larger version.

This week we're going to revisit one of my earlier Postal History Sunday efforts and re-explore an item that is outside of my normal comfort zone.  Postal history covers so much ground that it is not at all difficult to suddenly find that you feel a bit like you are a beginner all over again!  The good news is that experience in one area of postal history provides the tools needed to climb the learning curve a bit faster.

Shown above is a large item that was mailed in 1931 from Germany to Russia - via the North Pole. 

By 1931, philately (stamp collecting) had a strong following.  In fact, it was not at all uncommon for people to send mail via certain routes or on certain dates to create a commemorative item for some event.  For example, each time a new airmail route would open up in the United States, there were individuals who would make up envelopes with special designs to be mailed the first day the route opened.  Sure - they paid the postage and they made up a valid envelope or postcard - so these were real pieces of mail, even if the intent was to create a keepsake or collectible item.

An example of philatelic souvenir mail is shown above.  William Bilden sent a letter to France... to himself.  He overpaid the 30 cent air mail rate with 32 cents in postage because he must have wanted the letter to look a certain way when it was returned to him (he probably liked the idea of this block of four National Parks issue stamps).  His goal was for the letter to be taken on a flight (the first flight) via the Foreign Air Mail route 18.  And, he met with success because the letter was returned and since that time the letter has passed from his collection to others, and it now resides in mine.

This is an instance where the postal historian sometimes collides with souvenir hunter.

As a postal historian, I prefer to find pieces of mail that carried "real letters" or "real business correspondence" rather than something fabricated as a souvenir for an event (often called an event cover).  On the other hand, there are times when the souvenirs themselves illustrate an important event in the history of postal carriage, or they connect so strongly to a historical event that has a good enough story, that I am willing to bend a good bit!

In the 1930s, 'lighter than air' ships were coming into prominence, providing an opportunity to cross the oceans more quickly than ocean-going vessels. 

Knowing a good thing when they saw it, many airship flights were promoted to the philatelic community to encourage the sending of commemorative mail for fundraising purposes.  Postal administrations all over the globe got into the act by issuing special stamps and establishing special postage rates for these flights (typically costing more than normal mail).  And, it worked!  Much of the surviving mail items from these flights were made up just to commemorate the event and to provide souvenirs for philatelists and airship enthusiasts alike.

Shown above is a postal card that was clearly created to commemorate a 1929 flight of the Graf Zeppelin.  The German 2 Reichsmark postage stamp features an airship over the earth - a design intended to promote the event of airship mail itself.  And, the addressee is one A.C. Roe of East Orange, New Jersey - also known as A.C. Roessler.  Roessler is well-known for making commemorative mail by addressing items to himself and these letters typically held no correspondence.  The goal was acquire a decorated envelope that had traveled at a specific time on a designated route, ship, plane or... airship.

The cover I am highlighting today was taken on a highly publicized flight that was planned to fly to the northern polar regions.  Let's remind you now of what that item looks like.

This experimental flight of the Graf Zeppelin LZ 127 was funded to a large extent by philatelic interest (believe it or not), carrying 650 pounds of mail at the time it departed Leningrad and another 270 pounds going the other direction.  It is estimated that around 50,000 pieces of philatelic mail were processed through in total.

Given the larger size of this particular envelope, it is possible - and maybe even likely - that it carried some legitimate correspondence in addition to serving as a way to create an event cover.  Unfortunately, there are no contents in the envelope, so I can't verify that possibility.

This particular piece of mail cost the sender 4 ReichsMarks (RM), which was roughly equivalent to one US dollar in 1931 (to be more precise 1 $ US was 4.2 RM).  

The airship left Friedrichshafen on July 24 and made stops in Berlin (July 24) and Leningrad (July 25).  It then transferred its mail to a Russian icebreaker ship on July 27 near Hooker Island.  If you look closely, even the stamps had a special marking ("Polar Fahrt 1931" = polar flight) and were sold specifically to persons who wanted souvenir mail to go on this flight.

 If the person mailing this just wanted an item to be mailed from Germany to Russia so that it got there as fast as possible, then it would have made sense to take the letter off the airship in Leningrad and let it get to Ishevsk, Russia, from there.  But, the typed instruction "via Nordpol nach Russland" made it clear that the sender wanted this item to get off-loaded on the scheduled icebreaker rendezvous.

A commonly sought reward for those who paid to have letters taken on special flights was a hand-stamped design (known as a cachet) that was placed on each letter to verify that it was, indeed, on board the Graf Zeppelin.  If you look the other items I have shared thus far, you will find other examples of cachets.  The A.C. Roessler card features a blue, round cachet.  And, the William Bilden envelope to France has a very large design featuring an airplane and the statue of liberty.

Sometimes, the commemoration was provided by a special postmark - and this event happened to have both a cachet and a postmark.  The Russian icebreaker Malyguin met the Graf Zeppelin on July 27 and they processed the mail with the special postmark shown above.  The ship took the mail from the airship back to land, where this letter entered the Russian mail system.  

This large envelope finally arrived at its destination on August 8, much later than regular mail would have taken - at a much higher cost. But, the recipient had the souvenir they desired - or maybe it was the sender who wanted this envelope for their collection and they prevailed upon a friend to keep it for them?  That's something we might not ever know - but it can be fun to speculate.

AP photo June 28, 1931 - scanned image taken from a sale item on an online sales site

In order to transfer mail from the Graf Zeppelin to the Malyguin, the airship had to land on the surface of the water.  This maneuver was practiced on the Bodensee (Lake Constance), which borders Germany and Switzerland and it was (apparently) successful when it mattered near Hooker Island in Arctic waters.

The build up to the flight and the flight itself was well-publicized and widely followed.  The video shown below includes a section, with commentary, on this flight starting at 3:05 on the video's timeline.

For those who would like to learn more about the scientific and mapping purposes of the 1931 polar flight of LZ 127, I suggest this summary on the airships.net site, where the map image shown below was found.

 I hope you enjoyed a quick voyage to view the North Pole from an airship.

Something More... - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday, featured weekly on the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you take this link, you can view every edition of Postal History Sunday, starting with this one (the most recent always shows up at the top). 

We have had an extremely busy week at the Genuine Faux Farm, so the energy and time for Postal History Sunday is a bit shorter than it is some weeks. So, this week we're actually going to build a bit more on a couple of prior entries.  Every so often, I find new items that fit a topic I've already written on or I learn a new thing or two that makes it worthy of sharing.  It doesn't always justify an entire Postal History Sunday, but I still think it might be interesting to give it some space in a shared blog.

Something more for Sorta Paid

Back in June of this year, one Postal History Sunday explored how some postal agreements between France and other nations allowed for partial payment of postage.  But, instead of simply collecting the amount of postage the letter had been shorted, there was an additional cost added to the postage due as a way to discourage people from underpaying mail.

During the 1860s, if someone in France wanted to mail a letter to Spain, they would have to pay 40 centimes (French currency) for every 7.5 grams of weight.  If someone in Spain wanted to mail a letter to France, they would have to pay 12 cuartos (Spanish currency) for every 4 adarmes in weight (4 adarmes is about 7 grams).  And, all would be well if a letter was properly weighed AND properly paid.

It's when someone failed to do just that - for whatever reason - that things get complicated.

The item shown above is a case in point.  There are three blue stamps representing 4 cuartos in postage each.  That would be a total of 12 cuartos, which paid for a simple letter weighing no more than 4 adarmes.  Sadly, this was not enough postage and the recipient in Bayonne, France had to pay more in order to receive the letter.

Our first clue is the marking that reads "Franqueo Insuficiente" (insufficient postage).  I took the liberty of using an image editing tool to try to make the lettering stand out a bit more so everyone can see what I am talking about.  I admit it.  If you didn't have some idea of what you were looking for in the first place, many postal markings are next to impossible to decipher.  

We just have to remember that postal clerks dealt with these things daily, so they knew what they looking for (most of the time).  And, of course, they probably didn't even entertain the idea that someone like me would want to try to read what a marking says 160 years later.

The other clue is the "2" that is written in blue pencil  You can see it in the image above or you can look at the original image of the cover.  This tells us and other postal clerks that the letter was a "double weight" letter.  It weighed more than 4 adarmes and no more than 8 adarmes.  So, the sender should have paid 24 cuartos in postage, not 12.

9 - black hand stamp

90 in blue pencil

Once we figure out that not enough postage had been paid, the next question is "how much MORE postage is necessary to be paid?"

Gee.  I'm glad you asked, because that's a question I happen to know the answer to.  You can certainly ask any number of questions - I do encourage it - but I can't always guarantee that I'll know much about whatever you ask. 

So, how did they calculate the amount due?

First, the payment for remaining postage was to be made in France, which means we need to think in terms of French centimes (cents) or decimes (dimes).  Getting right to the chase, the "9" in black ink represents 9 French decimes and the blue "90" is 90 French centimes.  Both are exactly the same amount.

In France, the unpaid rate for mail from Spain was 60 centimes per 7.5 grams of weight.  Since this was a double weight letter, the cost would be 120 centimes if it were fully unpaid. 

The good news?  The sender did pay for 12 cuartos of postage, which converted to 40 centimes.

120 centimes - 40 centimes = 80 centimes

Um.  Wait a minute, I thought you said you knew what you were doing here, Rob?

Well, actually, I do.  There's just a bit more to the story.  

1. Incoming mail to France from Spain was charged an extra 5 centimes
2. Postage due was rounded up to the nearest decime.

120 centimes - 40 centimes + 5 centimes = 85 centimes

rounded up to the nearest full decime = 90 centimes

And now you know too.

To make sure the story is filled out right and proper, here is a letter that was correctly prepaid 12 cuartos for a simple letter that weighed no more than 4 adarmes.  This piece of mail originated in Santander, Spain and was destined for Paris.  

A black marking that shows the letters "P.D." tells us that the postage was properly paid - EXCEPT, the recipient still owed 5 centimes simply because the letter came from Spain.

This 5 centime "droit de factage" (drayage right) was a bit of "tit for tat."  The Spanish collected a delivery charge of 1 cuarto for all incoming mail from other countries (called "derecho de cartero").  This practice continued despite a postal agreement with France that went into effect on February 2, 1860 that indicated payment of postage should cover all costs to the destination.  As a result, the French added their 5 centime fee for incoming letters from Spain (but not other countries).

In both cases, there was no way the sender of a letter could successfully pay the delivery fee, so there was no way to apply a postage stamp to cover that cost - as far as I can tell.  Maybe an expert in the field can show me an exception if it exists.

Spain ended their 1 cuarto delivery charge on July 2, 1869 and France followed by removing theirs on July 15.

And here is an example of a double weight letter from Spain to France that was mailed after the droit de factage was removed.  There are two 12 cuarto stamps that properly pay for this letter that weight more than 4 adarmes and no more than 8 adarmes.  There is no 5 centime marking to indicate a delivery fee.

And, in case you were wondering, the 5 centime fee was always 5 centimes, even if the letter was heavier than a simple letter.

Something more for Borderline Benefits

 The Postal History Sunday titled Borderline Benefits appeared in February of 2021 and it focused on special postal rates between nations in Europe for communities near a shared border.  I do, still, pay attention when I am looking at items that might qualify for these special rates, and here is one that was not shared in that post.

Like so many border covers, the postage stamp design we see here was used on typical domestic mail internal to France.  Simply put, there are lots and lots and LOTS of examples of folded letters and envelopes with this blue, 20 centime stamp on it.  And, nearly all of them are a simple letter mailed from one place in France to another place in France.

So, the trick is to know how to identify hints that what you are seeing is NOT typical.

PD in a red box

Belgique (Belgium) in address

The first and easiest clue if you are digging through a whole bunch of envelopes and folded letters from the 1850s, 60s and 70s France is to look for the red boxed marking with "PD" (payee a destination - paid to destination).  Postal clerks in France used this to indicate postage was paid when the letter was going to leave the country.

Shown below is text from the postal convention that was in effect as of January 1, 1966 between France and Belgium.  It sets the border rate at 20 centimes per 10 grams in weight, instead of the 30 centimes for all other mail to Belgium from France.  To be eligible the distance could be no more than 30 kilometers from the origin to the destination.

Click the image to see a larger version

This document includes a list of French communities that were eligible for this reduced rate if the destination was within the 30 kilometer distance.  The town of Anzin is the second one on the list - and that's where this letter came from.

The other challenge, of course, is to be able to read the address.  If you know the letter started in France and the address says it is going to Belgium, you should take notice!

Here is a letter mailed from Paris to Colmar (also in France at the time).  I put this one here to illustrate two possible confounding factors that might make it hard for a person to immediately see that a letter is being sent to a different country.

The first, of course, is hand-writing.  It can be neat - or not.  This letter actually has a pre-printed address except for the city and the department.  Colmar is pretty clear, but "Haut-Rhein" is a bit less so.

And of course, you have to know your geography or be able to find period maps to help you learn that geography.  Sometimes a scrawl is just a scrawl until you find something to help you figure it out.

And then, you need to be able to acquire a bit of regional history.

Mulhouse, the destination town for this letter, is very near to Colmar.  Both are in the Haut Rhein.  Can you see where that department name is written on this folded letter?  If you can't, look at the last part of the address and you'll see "Ht Rhin."

In the 1860s, when the first letter was mailed, Haut Rhein was in France.  But, after the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, that area was ceded to Germany.  Suddenly, Mulhouse and Colmar were in another country and foreign postage was necessary if a person in France wanted to send a letter to those communities.

What we see here is a case where the person sending the letter probably did not personally accept that Mulhouse was no longer in France.  They put a 25 centime stamp on the letter and sent it on its way - and they very deliberately (I think) did not indicate that Mulhouse and Haut Rhein were in Germany.

The French postal clerks knew better, even if they might have sympathized with the sentiment.  They put a red boxed marking that read "Affranchissement Insuffisant" (insufficient postage) on the front.  Then, the German postal carrier in Mulhouse collected 3 German groschen from Fritz Koechlin,who probably was a bit less than pleased with the sender at this point.

While Fritz might have been displeased in 1872, I am hopeful that you are currently feeling a bit more pleased about your own life in the present day.  Perhaps you found Postal History Sunday to be a pleasant diversion that allowed you to enjoy a few moments before you return to whatever it is you must do?

I appreciate your willingness to visit, read, and maybe learn something new.  I am always happy to accept questions - even some I cannot answer - and comments or corrections.  I hope you have a good remainder of your day and a fine week to come.