Curb Appeal - 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 going to delve into the visual appeal of postal history items.  Sometimes that appeal lies in the "eye of the beholder," but there are some traits that typically result in better "curb appeal" as the title suggests.  Now, before I get too philosophical on everyone, let me remind you that everyone is welcome here.  Thank you for coming and reading, and I hope you enjoy a few moments as I attempt to distract you from your busy lives.

What makes a cover "pretty?"

Already, I may have lost some of you who are not necessarily collectors of postal history.  You might be saying to yourself, "Self, that's an old piece of paper that's already served its purpose.  Pretty does not enter into it!"  And, if you feel that way, I certainly understand.  There are many things in this world that other people think are quite good looking and I just do not see it.  So, what should make me think that this can't run the other way around?

On the other hand, if we think of this topic as "curb appeal," you might be able to figure out what I am talking about even if you don't see postal history as "pretty."  Two houses might be practically the same in most respects, but even someone who does not find houses to be "pretty" can probably identify why one is more attractive than the other from the street.  Or to put it another way, what are the clues that you might observe that make you want to select one house (or postal history item) over another?

Take a look at this envelope, mailed from Toledo, Ohio in 1867.

Now, take a look at this one and compare the two.

Which one of these has the better curb appeal?  It is not required that you think either of these is "pretty," but I think you are likely to agree with me if you think the second cover is more attractive and more desirable than the first.

Both of these envelopes bore letters to the same correspondent, Ensign C.H. Breed on the USS Swatara.  Both were mailed in 1867.  In each case, B.F. Stevens and the United States Despatch Agency handled the process of getting the letter to a person on one of the ships in the European Squadron.  They both tell a similar story (one I will tell in a future Postal History Sunday!).

But, which one would you PREFER to show if you wanted to illustrate that story?  

Of course, you would want the one with more curb appeal - the second envelope.  The markings are clearer and easier to read.  The postage stamp on the first one looks like it has seen better days.  There are stain marks on the first example.  The second cover is brighter, cleaner - and just better looking.

Enough curb appeal to make me try something new

So, let's go back to the first item I showed in the blog.  This is an 1832 folded business letter from Bologna, then part of the Papal States, to Wohlen in the Swiss canton of  Aargau.  This letter is older than what I normally collect, but the price was very nice and... this thing has a ton of curb appeal.

The markings are clear, the paper is still quite clean, there is very little wear and tear, and... the handwriting is exquisite. Feel free to click on the image of the contents at left to see a larger version.

This letter comes from the Jacques Isler & Company business correspondence.  It turns out that there are many examples from Isler & Company available for collectors, such as myself, to acquire and appreciate.  However, let's consider that these are business letters written TO this company.  That means the handwriting will not be the same from one item to the next because they had many different customers.  It just so happens that I located and selected this example that shows impeccable handwriting.

That's pretty good for the curb appeal, if you ask me.

For those who might like to know some information about rates, routes and markings - the next bit is for you!

This letter was prepaid to the Papal border at a cost of 2 1/2 bajocchi and would have traveled through Parma and Modena on its way to Milano in Lombardy.  The red marking that reads "LT" with a red arch over it was put on this letter in Milano and it is an abbreviation for Lettera Transito - indicating that it was recognized as an item that was just "passing through" Milan on its way to Switzerland.

At that time, Switzerland was a collection of independent cantons and most cantons had its own postal service that had agreements with other postal services to exchange mail.  The red pencil markings that read "8/12" tells us how much postage was collected from Isler and Company for mail service to Wohlen from the Papal border.  The bottom number indicated that payment of 12 kreuzer was to be collected from Isler by the Aargau post.  Of those 12 kreuzer, eight were passed back to the canton of Zurich. 

I do not know enough to be able to tell you how much, if anything, was passed by Zurich to Lombardy or Modena or Parma.  But, that's how these things often went at that time.  Each postal service wanted a cut of the postage to cover their own costs - and that could really add up to a significant cost.

Sometimes flaws don't seem so bad

Swiss letter rate to England - 60 rappen per 7.5 grams : Aug 15, 1859 - Sep 30, 1865

This 1859 letter was mailed from Basel and crossed into France at St Louis (across the river from Basel).  It then traveled via Paris, Calais and Dover before arriving at its London destination.  The total postage was 60 rappen, paid for with two postage stamps (one 40 rappen and one 20 rappen).

This is another item that I think has plenty of curb appeal.  There are some nice clear markings with different ink colors.  The stamps are clean and they provide some additional color at the top right. 

But, look closer.  There is a hole in the paper under the stamps that takes a small chunk out of the lowest Basel marking.  There is some erosion where the paper has reacted to the composition of the ink.  The big flourish under "London" is the easiest place to spot it.  So, this item is NOT perfect.

But, perfection is not necessarily a way to achieve curb appeal when it comes to postal history, in my opinion.  Some reasonable wear and tear that does not overwhelm the rest of the item actually enhances that appeal by reminding us that this folded letter was mailed over 162 years ago.  

I think the word "overwhelm" is actually a key here.  What do you see first when you look at an item?  In this case, I see the clear readable markings that can help me tell the story of the cover.  I see the positive characteristics first and I actually have to call attention to the negatives.  Typically, I prefer that the positives overwhelm the negatives rather than the other way around.

Now, what if I could find another item from this correspondence that was nearly identical, but it did not have this ink erosion?  Then I suppose I would prefer that one because it would have even greater curb appeal.  But, just because there are a few imperfections, that doesn't mean we can't appreciate the house we've got!

"Filing folds" are natural consequences of the use of the item

Since we are currently in London, let's take a quick look-see at this letter that was sent from London in 1872 to Stockholm, Sweden.  Once again, what do you see when you look at this particular cover?  You see a bit of color.  You see clear, readable markings and docketing so you can figure out the story that comes with the cover.  And you don't see much along the lines of tears or staining, despite the age of the item.  

Yes, there is some smudging of the ink for the addressee's name.  The postmarks on the stamps do a pretty good job of covering up their design.  And, there is a filing fold across the center of the whole thing.

We need to remember that most letters that survive from the 1850s to 1870s were probably business letters that were kept as business records.  There really wasn't any interest in trying to keep these pieces as pristine artifacts of postal history and it wasn't always convenient to leave these letters folded up the same way they were delivered.  After all, if they wanted to reference their records, the postage stamp along with their own address was NOT the important part.  As a result, the letters were often refolded to emphasize the content - not the stamps, not the postal markings, and certainly not the address panel.

Sometimes, letters were filed as they were received (without being refolded).  For example, the folded letter shown below has the contents shown at the right.  There are no apparent additional folds here.  Even so, there are still folds both horizontally and vertically to turn the full sheet into an envelope-like item that could go through the mail.  It's just part of the normal life of a piece of mail.

This letter was sent from a business representative named G. Contant in Lille, France.  At the time, the area around Lille was well known for its textile industries.  This letter was sent to the Samuel H. White Company in the United Kingdom that supplied equipment and accessories for spinning mills.  So, the connection is in character with the Lille region.

Apparently Monsieur Constant was not entirely in agreement with the pricing provided by the Samuel H. White Company.  And, as far as I can tell, this particular letter does not include an order or reference a particular payment.  Perhaps that meant it was less likely this letter was going to be referenced all that often by those who did the filing for Samuel White?  We'll never know for certain if this was how they went about filing or if they simply refolded things they were more likely to view again in the future.  But, it can be fun to speculate about such things once in a while.

France to the UK - postage rate of 40 ctms per 7½ gms  : Jan 1, 1855 - Dec 31, 1869

This cover has some pretty good curb appeal too.  There is something about an item with multiple postage stamps that can actually make you more forgiving of things like some smudging on the P.D. marking or the weaker strike for Lille.  Curb appeal is not always about the tiny details, even though those details can certainly impact how you feel about an item.

Curb appeal can make something that is common more appealing

Here is a much more modern item.  This envelope was mailed in Kansas City, Missouri on November 6, 1950.  The internal letter rate for the United States was 3 cents per ounce - and that rate lasted for a very long time.  As a result, there are many, MANY examples of simple letters with three cent stamps.  In fact, this particular purple stamp featuring Thomas Jefferson is ...

Well, let's just say they're all over the place and it is extremely easy to get lots of them for little to no cost.

So, if they are extremely easy to find and there isn't anything else going on that's all that special, why would you want something that was also missing curb appeal?  This one is actually quite good looking.  Everything is neat and clear.  There is a fancy slogan cancel celebrating Kansas City's Centennial.  The postage stamp is in excellent condition.  Even the pre-printed address is attractive.

If we consider my area of primary interest (postal history that features the 24 cent U.S. postage stamp from the 1861 design), there certainly can be items that have a wide range of curb appeal.  There were two earlier in the blog that we compared to each other, and now I show you two more examples - the first one mailed in Boston in August of 1862.

While I am not trying to say that a letter from the U.S. to the United Kingdom using a 24 cent stamp is incredibly common, I can tell you that this is the most common use, by far, for this stamp.  So, if you can find an example like the one above versus one like this....

Maybe you can get a better idea of why curb appeal might matter.  After all, which one would you like to look at more often?

Hey, there might be reasons that this last item is of interest.  A letter with a Chicago origin and the red "3 cents" marking is much less common than Boston.  And, of course, a letter that looks like this is going to cost much less if you just want an example for your own collection and you don't (or maybe you can't afford to) care about curb appeal.  Or maybe, you are attracted to covers like this because they show the wear of a life of use and abuse?  Maybe we'll have to do a Postal History Sunday on "ugly covers" someday.

In the end, it actually comes down to this.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  If you like postal history and you find beauty in them, then you will be looking for the curb appeal that makes you happiest.  If you are attracted to houses with bright blue doors and sunflowers by the windows, so be it.  It just so happens that I, and many other postal historians, prefer items with some of the curb appeal that I have been illustrating today.

So, why in the world am I attracted to this one?  I guess that will have to be for some future Postal History Sunday.

Bonus Material

Who was Jacques Isler and what did his company do exactly?  Well, here is a quick video that just might give you a clue!

In 1787, Jacques Isler founded the straw hat company that was going strong in 1832 (when the first letter in this blog was sent).  According to this article in the "Hat Magazine" put out by the Straw Museum that is the transformed Isler family home, as many as 12,000 women were employed to weave these hats during the winter months.  

But, as machinery was developed to mechanize the creation of straw hats, companies like Isler's worked to create designs that could not be easily replicated by a machine.  They could remain relevant by focusing on the trimmings and embellishments that made hats more unique.  Sure, that factory in England could pump out a bunch of hats, but Jacques Isler & Co could provide decoration that would make those hats special.

image from the Straw Museum 7/29/22

Well, I don't know about you, but I learned something new today!  I'd never really considered how straw hats were made, nor had I really made the connection to oat, wheat and rye straw (among other crops) and straw hats.  Sure - it makes sense because the connection is in the name.  But, as a person who farms, I don't see straw as a decorative item - especially after I've scooped out one of the poultry rooms where we use straw as bedding.

Thank you for visiting and viewing Postal History Sunday.  I hope you have a good remainder of the day and a fine week to come.

Carried Away - 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). 

Everyone is welcome to join me each week when I share a hobby I enjoy with anyone who has interest.  It doesn't matter if you are an accomplished postal historian or just a curious bystander, we all have an opportunity to learn something new (even if that something new is "I don't think I'd like postal history!").  Put your troubles and worries under the bed in hopes that you vacuum them up when you do some cleaning.  Grab a beverage of your choice and put on your fluffy slippers and take a few moments away from the rest of your busy life - I'm sure it'll still be there once you're done with this post.

This week, we're going to look at the service provided by letter carriers to get the mail from the sender to the post office in the mid-1800s.

I'd like to start with this 1863 letter that was sent from New York City in the United States to Liverpool in England.  There are two postage stamps on this envelope.  The blue stamp on the left is denominated at 1 cent and the stamp on the right provided 24 cents in postage for this letter.  The required postage to send a letter from New York City to Liverpool in 1863 was 24 cents as long as the letter weighed no more than 1/2 ounce.  So, the presence of the 24-cent stamp is accounted for, but what is that one-cent stamp paying for?

A Service Taken For Granted

While I recognize that fewer and fewer people actually send letters via the postal service, many who read this blog have at least some memory of a time when paying bills and sending written correspondence via the mail was commonplace.  Unless you lived in a small, rural town, you probably have (or had) a postal person delivering mail to your office or place of residence.  If you wanted to send something in the mail, you could simply place it in your mailbox and that same person would pick up your letter and take it to the post office for you. 

from Smithsonian National Postal Museum

In fact, as a person who does not live in a town, I benefit from Rural Free Delivery in the United States.  In other words, I do not have to pay extra to have someone drive by our farm six days a week and drop our mail off in a box that looks a good deal like the one shown above.  And, just like someone who lives in a city with postal carriers, I can place mail into my mailbox and raise the red flag on the side to alert our rural carrier that I have placed a letter(s) into the box that I want them to take to the post office for me.

The rural service started in the late 1890s, though it was not adopted everywhere at one time.  Prior to that point, rural customers had to make a trip to the nearest post office (that could be lengthy) to pick up and drop off mail.

Well, believe it or not, there was also a time in the United States where even people living in our largest cities either had to go to the post office themselves to pick up or send a letter OR they had to pay someone to go to the post office for them.

A Penny to Carry Your Mail

You've probably figured it out by now.  That extra one-cent postage stamp was intended to pay for a postal carrier to take this letter to the post office in New York City.  The trick, of course, was catching the postal carrier so they could take the letter for you.  Unless the person mailing this letter was receiving a letter delivery from a postal carrier, their best choice was to find one of the 586 lamp-post drop boxes scattered throughout New York City in 1863.  

from Smithsonian

According to Appleton's United States Postal Guide for 1863, carriers visited these boxes six times a day to empty them and take the letters deposited there to the post office.  There were 137 postal carriers employed by the New York City post office if we use the numbers in the report of the Postmaster General for the fiscal year 1863/64.  Their job, in addition to picking up letters from these letterboxes, was to also make deliveries of the mail (also for a penny until the middle of 1863).

You might be surprised to learn that the first collection box officially sanctioned by the US Post Office was patented in 1858 by Albert Potts.  These were quite small and required frequent emptying.  This, of course, led to larger boxes, including those built under contract with the Post Office by John Murray in 1860.  If this topic interests you, you may enjoy reading the summary provided here by the Smithsonian National Postal Museum.

The motivations for the US Post Office to begin taking carrier pick up and delivery seriously is a fairly complex question.  You could point to Europe and the history of mail pick-up and delivery that was well established there.  But, that would only serve as the model for some of the ideas that were implemented in the United States.  We need to remember that the majority of the population in the US resided in rural areas.  And, we also need to recognize that the infrastructure in cities was much younger in the US.  So, there are reasons why the same model was immediately adopted.

In any event, the reasons for these changes are complex, so I will feature only parts of the story today.

An Outside Motivation - Protecting Turf

Just as private mail services pushed the US Post Office to provide cheaper postage (and get laws passed to remove the competition), the private services that offered to take mail to and from private homes and businesses encouraged change by providing competition.  One well known private service was called the Blood's Penny Post in Philadelphia.  

Shown above is a letter that was mailed in Philadelphia on September 4, 1861, to Washington, D.C.  A three-cent stamp paid for the domestic postage to get from Philly to D.C., but there is an additional adhesive on this cover that represented payment to Blood's for carrier service.

The Blood's carrier service started in 1845 as D.O. Blood & Co, becoming Blood's Despatch in 1848 and was finally known by the Penny Post in 1854.  At its height, it had hundreds of collection boxes throughout Philadelphia that were emptied as many as five times a day.  

If you'll look at the cover above, you'll find a round marking at the bottom left.  It is hard to read, so I can provide you with a similar marking that bears different dates and times.  If the marking on our cover were clearer, we might expect to be able to find out which time of day this letter had been collected by Blood's Penny Post - just as the example below from 1858 illustrates for us.

In September of 1861, the cost for carrier service by Blood's Penny Post to the US Post Office in Philadelphia was one penny.  Blood's started the service at a cost of three cents in 1845, dropping it to 2 cents and then 1 cent (in 1855) as business grew and competitors attempted to get into the fray.  If you are interested in seeing examples of postal history from Blood's and their competitors in Philadelphia you may view them in Vernon Morris' exhibit that can be found at this link.

It turns out that it helps to have the federal government on your side.  The US Post Office had the ability to declare any road or street a "post road."  Once a road or street had that designation it was no longer legal for a private entity to carry the mail via those routes.  In July of 1860, the Postmaster General announced that all streets in Philadelphia were now post roads.  As a result, Blood's was technically no longer able to carry mail in the city - but they opted to ignore that announcement and continued to provide their services.

However, after the Post Office sought an injunction to prevent Blood's from continuing in 1861, they finally shut their doors on January 10, 1862.  If you would like more details about Blood's Penny Post, I suggest you read this article in the Classics Society's Chronicle by Edward Harvey.  And, if that's still not enough for you, you can read this article that expands on certain details by Steven Roth (starts page 4). 

US Postal Carriers in Major Cities

It is interesting to note that a person can, if they wish, find examples of the US Post Office's penny carrier service in several of the major cities in the early 1860s.  In my own collection, I have examples for New York City, Boston, Brooklyn, Baltimore, Cleveland, and Philadelphia (shown above).  In each case, a three cent stamp pays for a simple letter weighing no more than 1/2 ounce to travel from one point to another within the United States.  The one-cent stamp pays for the carrier service to the post office.

It is interesting to note that the US Post Office in Philadelphia was not too proud to take a few clues from the successful Blood's Penny Post.  The back of this letter shows a poorly struck postmark that would include the date and time stamp to show which carrier circuit picked the item up.

Rather than show you that marking, because it is hard to read, let me show you a similar marking that bears a different date in time so you can get a feel for what it looks like.

As postal use grew in the 1860s, the number of cities that provided carrier services increased.  And, on July 1, 1863, the one cent fee for carrier service was removed and Free City Delivery was established in the United States. At that time only 49 post offices employed at least one carrier and there were approximately 450 carriers in total.  By 1900, over 400 cities employed nearly 10,000 letter carriers.

Why are Postal Historians Attracted to "Carrier Covers"?

As a postal historian, I appreciate items that provide me with clues that tell me how the letter traveled through the mail. Once we get to the middle of 1863 and the 1 cent fee for carrier pickup to the post office was removed, we lose some of the indicators that might tell us how a letter got to the post office in the first place.  A letter that was picked up from a lamppost drop box will look exactly the same as one that was dropped by the customer at the main post office after July 1st of that year.

That's why items prior to that date, like the cover shown above, have a special attraction.  The mere existence of the 1 cent stamp on this cover tells us that a carrier picked up this item and took it to the post office.  Just a bit more of the story is evident here.  And, because I know it cost 1 cent for a carrier to pick this up, I know the item shown below was NOT taken to the Philadelphia post office by a US post carrier.

However, if this item were dated October 1, 1863 (instead of 1861), I would not necessarily be able to tell the difference.

But, that's not the whole story of what attracts people to items we call "carrier covers."  You've actually gotten a taste of it in this Postal History Sunday.  We have interesting stories involving private local carriers that provided a service that the US Post Office was either neglecting or not doing sufficiently well.  We see evidence of social change as mail was made more accessible to a wider audience.  We see the progress where a convenience that initially required payment eventually becomes an expected free service.

It's a good story.  And you all know how I like a good story.

Bonus Material

The letter that features the Blood's Penny Post stamp is written to a Private James C. Hufty of Colonel Baker's "First California" Regiment, Company C.  Hufty, a 21 year old, enrolled on April 18, 1861 with the First California.  Apparently, Hufty found some way to hold on to the letters he received because there are several envelopes from this correspondence available to collectors.  

Camp Oregon (where this letter was addressed to) was part of the defense around Washington, D.C. (to its northwest) and many of these camps included the families of some of the soldiers.  This could, I suppose, help explain how these envelopes survived.  Is it possible he had someone at camp who kept track of these letters for him?  Below is a photo of the 31st Pennsylvania Volunteers encamped at that time near Washington, D.C. (a different unit that did not include Hufty).

Courtesy Library of Congress, LC-DIG-cwpb-01663

Private Hufty would be among 553 Federal prisoners taken at the Battle of Ball's Bluff on October 21, 1861.  I have not been able to track Hufty beyond that point in time.

Senator Edward D Baker, of Oregon, formed this regiment largely with volunteers from Philadelphia and New York City, despite what the name might imply.  Baker was a politician and a friend of President Lincoln.  Because he recruited this regiment (and he had connections), Baker was given the commission as Colonel, despite his lack of military training.  This was a fairly common occurrence early in the war, which led to numerous mistakes in early action.

from WikiMedia Commons

The Battle of Ball's Bluff was a prime illustration how the lack of military background cost dearly.  Baker positioned his troops on low ground, putting them at great disadvantage.  They were pressed back to the Potomac where many were killed, captured or drowned in the attempt to retreat.  Baker paid with his life and his incompetence resulted in the creation of the Joint Committee on the Conduct of War.  The Joint Committee was created to begin addressing the competence of military leadership and to counter politically motivated appointments.

Baker shot at Ball's Bluff - from Library of Congress

After the Senator's (Colonel's) death, the 1st California was renamed the 71st Pennsylvania Infantry, though it was (and is) still often referenced by its original name.  The 71st participated in many major battles, including Chancellorsville and Gettysburg.  They were mustered out in August of 1864.

If you are interested in more details surrounding the 71st Pennsylvania, the History of Edward Baker's California Regiment, 71st PA Inf. by Gary G. Lash could be of interest to you. 

Well, I hope you enjoyed today's Postal History Sunday.  Have a good remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.  See you next week!

I Learned Something New - Postal History Sunday #100

Well, well.  We actually made it all the way to Postal History Sunday number 100.  So I am going to use this blog to celebrate - and if you are so inclined, please feel free to join me in the celebration.  Instead of grabbing your favorite beverage and putting on the fluffy slippers, let me suggest that you get a favorite snack AND a beverage.  Maybe you can even play some music you enjoy while you're at it.  That's a celebration!

From the beginning, one of the motivations for Postal History Sunday was to encourage learning and exploration - both mine and yours.  I am hopeful that at least a few of the prior 99 entries have enticed you to learn something new while enjoying the process in a comfortable environment.  

This post will be a celebration of learning - specifically my learning.  I thought I would share a few of the many new things I have learned thanks to this series of writings.  The beauty of this hobby is that postal history artifacts provide me with physical examples that motivate me to explore.  As a result, I find that I benefit from new information and understanding each time I undertake writing one of these posts.

And now, let's see some of the things I have learned over the past (almost) two years.

There is Joy in Discovery

Let me start with the blog post that was the first for 2022, titled Led Astray.  The focus of that entry was this 1864 letter from the United States to England shown above.  I had initially intended this cover to be one of the items in another post, but as I started to re-examine this cover so I could present it, I found that I did not understand the delivery address well enough to say what I wanted to say.  So, I opted for a different item to fill that spot.

After discovering that I did not have a full grasp of this item, I couldn't help myself.  I had questions now that needed answering, so I set out to seek those answers.  The blog that followed the next week was full of revelations, even though I had studied this piece of postal history before.  And now, six months later, I still think this entry might be one of my favorite Postal History Sundays because I learned so much about an artifact I thought I had explored well enough in the past.

This time around, one of the keys to unlocking the story had to do with the Unitarian Chapel on Roslyn Hill.  The house occupied by a Presbyterian minister is called a "manse."  I had heard of parish house, parsonage, clergy house and rectory - but not manse.  So, of course, I initially made the connection of "manse" to large house or mansion.  It was only by happenstance that there actually WAS a Roslyn House in Hampstead to lead me astray.  But once I made the connection of Roslyn Manse to the Unitarian Chapel, everything started to fall into place.

 It turned out I was wrong about what I thought I knew - and I am glad I was wrong, because the joy I got from the process of discovery was worth it!

Little Things That Became Useful

There are numerous little facts that I have discovered in the process of researching and writing Postal History Sunday.  I thought I would share a couple of small pieces of knowledge that became keys to unlock further learning.  For example, the circular marking at the right on the back of this 1864 folded letter that was featured in Pirascafo sul lago.

The marking to the right reads: Verbano 31 Mag 64 No 2

I searched for a town named Verbano in Switzerland and Italy - to no avail.  I tried numerous approaches to figure out what "Verbano" was referencing and was making no headway until I figured out that Verbano was another name for Lake Maggiore.  From there I learned that this was a lake steamship marking.  After that, I was off to the races, uncovering information about the steamers that ran mail up and down the lakes in northern Italy and southern Switzerland.

Then, there was this 1855 item from Modena that is featured in Duck, Duck, Goose.

Note the words "Via Malcontenti" at the lower left on this envelope.  My initial reaction whenever I see "via" is to think that this is a directional docket that says, get to your destination by going this way.   Things like "via Southampton" or "via Marseille" for example.

But, this did not make sense here UNTIL... I realized via means "street" in Italian.  It's a street address.

And suddenly another window opens and I can see more clearly.  

It's discoveries like these that keep me both humble and hopeful.  Humble because they remind me of how much I don't know and hopeful because even the tiniest bit of information could lead to tremendously important advances in my own understanding.  Discoveries like this also remind me to be patient with others if they do not see what I see.  If they don't see, that means they haven't found the key yet - and all I can do is help them to look for that key if they are willing to search with me.

Postal History Concepts that Became Clearer

I have often said that the best way for me to learn is to attempt to explain or describe a difficult concept to someone else.  There have been numerous instances where my own understanding of a topic matured from basic recognition to a higher level of mastery simply because of the words I have written in Postal History Sunday.

One of the earlier examples of a PHS entry enhancing my own understanding of postal history is the entry titled Sorta Paid from January of 2021.  

I was used to seeing underpaid letters being treated by various postal services as completely unpaid, leaving the recipient to pay for the entire amount of unpaid postage.  But, this folded letter from France to Spain was not treated that way.  After getting some help from an expert in this area and reading a few postal agreements of the time, I worked to create a post that would explain this new knowledge to others.  As a result of this effort I now have a much better understanding of how this works AND I am quicker to recognize other pieces of postal history that show similar characteristics.  

The basic idea is that France and Spain had two different postage rates, one rate was for mail that was prepaid and the other was for unpaid mail.  If a letter had some postage, but not enough, the unpaid mail rate was used to determine how much was due, but credit was given for the postage that was paid.

Triple unpaid rate due = 54 cuartos
Less amount actually paid = 24 cuartos   (80 centimes in France)
Total due at delivery = 30 cuartos

Another example of something that I only understood the barest basics of until I motivated myself to write a PHS blog about it is shown below.  This one is featured in Pushing at the Edges.

This piece of letter mail from France in 1867 is an example of valeur déclarée - and it turns out figuring the cost of such an item requires a slightly different understanding than regular letter mail.  I have to credit my desire to be able to explain it to others for the tenacity it took to pursue the details so I could give an accurate accounting.  After all, it would be easier to just say "someone paid 60 centimes in postage for an insured letter in 1867" and leave it at that.  It takes a bit more energy and effort to describe what the stamps paid AND that additional fees were paid in cash (not using the postage stamps).

The cost was split into three parts:

1. A special postal rate that is calculated based on weight
2. A flat additional fee of 20 centimes (the registry fee)
3. Payment for insurance to cover the declared value of the item being sent.
   

Only the first two could be paid with postage stamps.  The third cost was paid in cash to the postal clerk.

A third example of a post that enhanced my understanding of postal history is the Postal History Sunday titled With This Ring.  This marking and the cover that bears it has been in my collection for many years.  And, for most of those years, I have been content to have and use a simple explanation for its existence - even if that explanation was less than robust.

What I had understood before was sufficient to give a two sentence description that was certainly accurate and, frankly, sufficient in most situations.  But, when I decided I wanted to write about it, I found I had too many questions about the details.  And, it turns out they were important details that were worthy of exploration.

The short story, for those who don't want to go read the original post, is that any mail that had to be redirected to a new address (because someone had moved, or some other reason) was required to pay more postage - as if it had been remailed.  But, there was an exception. If the new location is WITHIN the same local delivery area, no additional postage was needed and the letter could simply be redirected to the new address.  In London, these markings were used to indicate free mail forwarding in these special situations.

Above is the letter from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas to London that started the whole inquiry process.

Social History Adds Depth to the Story

The process of seeking out a broader or deeper story line has provided me with endless opportunities to learn new things.  Or, I suppose, understand things better than I had before.

For example, the History of Great Lakes Navigation by John W. Larson provided me with this excellent illustration of the water level differences that had to be dealt with as canals and channels were built to allow travel from lake to lake.

This is something that has just never really sunk in for me until the moment I found this illustration as I was looking for a bit more information to surround this item that is featured in the Postal History Sunday titled Steam Boat.

While I appreciate learning facts like these, I'm not always certain other folks will agree with me.  So it was rewarding when I heard from multiple individuals that they found this particular graphic engaging.  Even better, I did not just hear it from other postal historians, I got positive feedback from others who read Postal History Sunday, but are not inclined to be postal history hobbyists.  

Let me say it one more time - Postal History Sunday is intended for anyone who is interested.  I hope that my writing stays accessible to those who have little postal history knowledge while still remaining interesting for those who do.  Isn't it great to be able to share something you enjoy in such a way that those who already appreciate that thing are happy to see it AND others can at least appreciate some of WHY you enjoy that hobby?  Well, I think so!

Another favorite discovery of mine has to be the Mouse Tower at Bingen (from Dominoes).

Photo from wikimedia commons, viewed 1/22/22

There is an island near Bingen where an old tower still stands - and it bears the name Mäuseturm - which is translated as "the Mouse Tower."  This tower is known for its connection to a legend that features the Archbishop of Mentz, who treated the peasantry cruelly, murdering many of the poor to prevent them from eating too much of the food that was in short supply.  Archbishop Hatto fled to this tower to escape an army of mice, who pursued him there - he was then devoured by the mice as God's judgement for his wicked ways.

Really!  I picked this up in the process of researching a piece of postal history.  It's colorful.  It's interesting.  It makes me want to learn even more about Bingen - and maybe it even makes YOU want to learn more about Bingen and the pieces of postal history that are linked to that town.

I had a difficult time trying to limit the number of examples I wanted to share in this Postal History Sunday because most Postal History Sundays have something that seems to expand my knowledge of things outside of postal history.  I built a better understanding of what "Greenbacks" were during the Civil War.  I learned that the philosopher, Voltaire, purchased the land around the small hamlet of Ferney in 1759.  If you look on modern maps, you might see that the name is often referenced now as Ferney-Voltaire.  And I learned that experienced St Lawrence Seaway navigators recognized variations in compass readings could lead the unwary to run aground on Anticosti Island.

And who could forget the posthorn?  The Thurn and Taxis postal carrier would ride on his horse or carriage and use a posthorn to announce arrival.  If you have interest, you could hear the sound of a coach horn  (used as a posthorn in England) at the Postal Museum's site.

Amazing.  Postal History Sunday even has music periodically.  Who knew?

Postal History that Adds Depth to Social History

Sometimes things in Postal History Sunday go the other way around.  Some of the topics have a focus on the social history that surrounds an item, and the postal history becomes an ornament that broadens the story line.  One good example of this is the Mighty Pencil.  This particular post initially focused on the advertising design for Dixon lead pencils, which is not a postal history topic.  But, as I explored this particular piece more carefully, I was drawn to the machine cancellation on the cover.

As mail volumes increased, there was motivation for mechanical innovations so more mail could be processed in less time.  The featured item was postmarked with one such device (which hobbyists refer to as machine cancellations).

Machine cancels are just one part of postal history that I have spent little to no time on.  But, suddenly I found myself learning about William Berry and 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:

These things can go round and round because the postal history led me right back to some social history that had nothing to do with pencils.  One site erroneously provided an incorrect picture of William Barry, the inventor, illustrating a white man.  However, 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.  And, as a result, I found a properly vetted photograph of Mr. Berry, shown below:

And, of course, the post titled Unforgotten focused on a letter sent to an airman during World War II who died before the letter could be delivered to him.  It was easy to focus on the social history and the war history that surrounded this item because that's what was initially calling to me as I started exploring.

But, a significant portion of this post looked at the route this letter had to take, first to get to Italy and then to Australia, and finally back to the United States.  Could the story have been successful with only the basics of postal history and the details pertaining to Geoffrey French's service and subsequent loss of life?  Of course it could!  Routes are a key part of postal history and aren't really necessary if you're going to talk about Mr. French's story.  But the Postal History Sunday story became so much more robust and interesting as I explored and learned more about the routes and the challenges war created for the transportation of mail.

Why Dedicate Myself to Postal History Sunday?

I have been asked why I put so much of myself into Postal History Sunday.  In fact, I've asked myself this question on days when I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by how quickly the days turn from one to the next and a Sunday suddenly looms on the horizon.  Now we have our answer.  I like to learn new things.  I like to tell stories of the past that have depth and breadth and I like to share what I enjoy with others because it encourages me to dig deeper and communicate well. And, I like to share with others because I want to contribute at least a little to other people's happiness and thirst for learning.

And now that I made my goal of one hundred Postal History Sunday entries, what's next?  Well, for now, we're going to get to two years (to post 104).  After that, we'll see what's next.  I have anywhere from 40 to 60 more topics I would like to share and I come up with new ones all the time.  But, I've got to balance the resources of time and energy I have with my desire to produce quality writing.  So I'll keep going for as long as that balance seems to work.

Besides, I'd like to be able to take the time to share the stories that surround this item in the near future.

And maybe I'll finally finish the complex story that surrounds this item?

Or maybe I'll explore this folded letter and unlock its secrets next?

Who knows which one(s) will be next?  I certainly don't.  After all - I've got a whole week to figure it out and learn something new in the process.

Thank you for joining me this week and allowing me to share something I enjoy with you.  Have a good remainder of your day and a fine week to come.

Let's Send a Letter to Switzerland - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the 99th entry of 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).  Only one more PHS entry before I can stop the countdown that has appeared for the past several weeks!

This week, I am going fall back on the small niche of postal history for which I have the most comfort - and that is material that bears the 24 cent 1861 stamp from the United States going to foreign destinations.  Today, I thought it might be fun, since we just did a blog that highlighted how taking a different route could result in a different postage rate, to do the same thing with the US and Switzerland in the 1860s.  

Hang on to your hats!  There is a great deal to talk about here.  I strongly recommend you go get your favorite beverage and put on those fuzzy slippers before starting.  The good news is that there is NOT a quiz afterwards.  You can simply slip happily through the words that follow, enjoying your virtual travels with letters that went from here to there in the 1860s.

Double the 21 cent French Mail rate from the United States to Switzerland

Letter mail between countries prior to the General Postal Union (1875) relied on postal conventions that were established by treaty between nations.  Needless to say, not every pair of sovereign states had a direct agreement that dictated how mail would be exchanged.  Mail between nations that did not have a direct agreement relied on a chain of postal conventions that connected them.  In most cases, that chain was created by finding one intermediary that had independent agreements with both of the states in question.  Mail that does not originate within a country and also does not reach its destination within that nation is said to be in transit through its postal system.

Case in point, Switzerland and the United States had no postal convention in place until 1868.  This makes sense for several reasons, but the most obvious is that there was no way mail could be carried between the US and Switzerland without transiting a third nation.  A quick look at a map will show you that Switzerland has no direct access to ocean transport.  The Swiss would have to travel through one of Italy, Austria, France, some of the German States (Wurttemburg, Bavaria, etc) and possibly have stops in Belgium or other nations along the way.  Any postal agreement between Switzerland and the United States would require connections to other agreements just to manage the transit through some or all of these independent states.

In 1860, the United States maintained postal agreements with the French, Prussian, Bremen and Hamburg systems.  It was also possible to send mail to the British mail services to be sent on through whatever routes were available between the United Kingdom and Switzerland.  

That's actually quite a few choices a person could make just to send a letter to one, smallish, country in the middle of Europe!

French Mail to Switzerland

The French mail system provided the United States with services to Switzerland from April of 1857 until December of 1869 at a cost of 21 cents per quarter ounce (7.5 grams) for letter mail.  Much of this postal convention can be viewed can be viewed here if you are curious.

Mail to Switzerland via France would travel by trans-Atlantic steamship from New York, Boston, Portland (Maine) and Quebec bound for locations in England, France and Germany, depending on which steamship line carried the piece of mail in question.  Items bound for France would typically sail directly to France or travel via Britain.  The entry point in France was most often Calais (or the rail line from Calais to Paris), but it could also be locations such as Havre and Brest.  If you would like more detail on how mail got to France during this period, this post will provide you will provide you with that information.

border region of France and Switzerland

The rail systems in France were developing rapidly from the 1840s through the 1860s.  For most of the 1860s, foreign mail was carried by train to Switzerland via three primary border crossings.  There were other crossings that typically handled local mail and were unlikely to carry foreign mail, though it is technically possible.  Mail could enter Switzerland in the north at Basel, west at Pontarlier and south at Geneva.  The route was chosen based on a combination of train schedules and location of the destination relative to the border crossing.  The hope was to send the mail via the route that would see the quickest delivery time.

The envelope shown above (and at the beginning of this post) is presumed to have gone via Pontarlier based on some incomplete train schedule data that I have located.  It is entirely possible that this is incorrect and I hope to be able to decipher the route more fully in the future.  The 1864 year date makes it possible that the entry was in the south at Geneva depending on the completion dates of some of the rail lines in the Jura mountains.

The difficulty for a postal historian who wants to figure out the route a letter took is that letters transiting France to Switzerland from the United States were not provided some of the same markings seen on Swiss/French mail.  As a result, we get fewer clues from the piece of mail to isolate the route once it was in Europe.  Instead, we are left to speculate by looking at train schedules and, perhaps, looking in a crystal ball or some tea leaves.

And now we take a quick diversion!  Someone asked me how I display postal history, wondering what that might look like.  So, below is the exhibit page I created for the letter shown above - feel free to click on it to view a larger image.

The letter shown above appears to have been sent from New York City to La Chatelaine near Geneva, Switzerland.  The portion of the address panel that reads "pres de Geneve" simply indicates that this is La Chatelaine "near" or "next to" Geneva.  The larger, red circular marking was applied in New York, dated March 9 and indicates that 36 cents of the 42 cents collected in postage is to be passed to France to cover postal expenses not rendered by the United States postal system.  The French then passed money to the British and Swiss postal systems to cover their parts in carrying this letter.

The breakdown of the postage rate is often not as simple as saying 6 US cents go here and 12 US cents go there.  What can be said entirely accurately is that 42 US cents were collected via US postage.  Thirty-six of those US cents were passed to the French postal system.  An amount roughly equivalent to 16 US cents was sent in French centimes (probably 80 centimes) to the English to cover the sea passage and the transit on British rail from Liverpool and the English Channel crossing.  This left 20 US cents, which is in the neighborhood of 1 franc in French currency, to cover transit through France and the cost of mail in Switzerland to deliver to the recipient.

For the sake of argument, mail from France to Switzerland cost 40 centimes (French) per 1/4 ounce.  So, this double weight letter would have cost 80 centimes if it originated in France.  This rate was split at 50 centimes for French postage and 30 centimes for Swiss postage.  So, it is not unreasonable to speculate that 30 centimes (about 6 US cents) was passed on to Switzerland to cover their postage costs.

Did you follow all of that?

No?

Let's try this instead:

• The US retains 6 cents of postage.
• France receives 36 cents from the US.
• Britain receives 80 centimes from France.
• Britain pays 6 pence to the Cunard Line for trans-Atlantic crossing.
  
• Britain retains 2 pence for internal rail service and the English channel crossing.
• France passes 30 centimes to Switzerland (equal to 30 rappen) for the Swiss mail service.
• France retains 70 centimes for their internal mail.

Now you're all saying - why didn't just put it this way in the first place?  The answer?  I don't know, I think it's because I like to hear myself write.

All of these amounts are estimations because I am not currently willing to work out all of the details as to actual exchange numbers between all of the players. involved.  For this excercise, I am operating under a simple 5 French centime to 1 US cent conversion, though the actual rate was 5.26 centimes per 1 US cent.  In the end, that conversion number matters less because the actual postage breakdown numbers are filtered through three sets of postal treaties; the treaty between the US and France, the treaty between France and Britain and the treaty between France and Switzerland.  In the end, it appears that the French make out like bandits since their internal rate was 40 centimes for a letter weighing 10 to 20 grams and they walk away with 70 centimes instead!

There is still plenty that can be explored regarding this cover.  If you look, you will notice several manuscript markings.  A pencil "2" notation certainly was applied to indicate that this is a double weight letter.  I have no idea whether the "53" is a postal marking or a filing docket placed on the envelope after it was received.  The "12" has all of the hallmarks of a postal marking, but I am currently at a loss regarding its importance.  It is crossed out which may mean it was placed on the cover in error OR it shows an amount passed and then recognized as passed and crossed out.  In that latter case, crossing out the amount makes it clear that it is not a due amount for the recipient.

Prussian Closed Mail to Switzerland

The Prussian mail system provided mail services for the United States to Switzerland starting in 1852 until December of 1867 when the Prussian system was superseded by the North German Union mails (essentially the Prussian mails with other German mail systems consolidated with it - a topic all its own).  The postage rate was 35 cents per half ounce (15 grams) until May of 1863 when the rate was reduced to 33 cents. *

* This may be, in part because Baden's rate drops from 30 cents to 28 cents in May of 1863 to align it with the rest of the German-Austrian Postal Union.  Also a topic worthy of more discussion.  I told you this stuff could get a bit complicated sometimes!

Mail to the Prussian system typically traveled through Belgium after a stop in England.  Mailbags would enter the Prussian mail officially at Aachen (Aix la Chapelle) or on the mobile post office between Verviers and Coeln.  

Both Belgium and Prussia featured highly advanced rail systems that facilitated rapid mail dispersal.  Travel to Switzerland from Aachen required transit through Prussia and Baden or through Prussia, Hessian states, and Wurttemburg. 

In the case of the item below, the markings include the Prussian "Aachen" marking on the front, a Baden railway marking on the back and two Swiss markings also on the back.

28 cents paid only to the border of Switzerland

The Prussian system is interesting in that it would allow mail from the United States to be paid 'up to the outgoing border.'  In other words, the sender could opt to pay the 28 cent rate to get a mail item to anywhere within the German-Austrian Postal Union (GAPU).  Once it reached the border, it would be sent on - essentially as an unpaid piece of mail from the Prussian system to its destination in Switzerland.  

In this case, the recipient was required to pay 10 rappen (or centimes) in Swiss postage for the privilege of receiving their mail in this case.  Remember last week, when we had some mail that went from Switzerland to Rome and the send paid for some of the postage and the recipient paid for the rest?  Yep, it's just like that.

The 28 cents in postage was divided into 7 cents for Prussia and 21 cents for the United States.  The U.S. was responsible for covering their own internal mail costs and paying for transit via England (which included the trans-Atlantic portion).  The Prussian mail system paid Belgium for the transit via Ostende (the equivalent of 2 US cents) and it retained 5 US cents for travels through the GAPU mail.  

Bremen or Hamburg Mail Treaty to Switzerland

Bremen and Hamburg were two Hanseatic cities that negotiated mail treaties with the United States including mail service to Switzerland beginning in July of 1857 at a rate of 27 cents per 1/2 ounce.  The rate was reduced to 19 cents in October of 1860 and became obsolete when these mail systems were combined with the North German Union postal system in January of 1868.  Initially, mail packets (steamships) traveled between New York and Hamburg every four weeks , but that increased to every other week (alternating with the ships that traveled to Bremen) as we progress through the 1860s.

Mail from Hamburg and Bremen typically traveled through Frankfort (Hessian territory) and would go through Baden to western Switzerland and Wurttemburg to eastern Switzerland.  

US to Switzerland via Hamburg Mails at double the 19 cent rate.

The different numerical markings help us figure out how the postage was shared between mail systems.  First, the blue "8" is in the German silbergroschen currency, which would translate to 19.2 US cents approximately.  It appears that the blue "8" was applied in Frankfort A Main, which would imply entry into the Thurn and Taxis posts.  They would have kept 6 silbergroschen for their transit of mail to Switzerland and 2 silbergroschen would have been passed to Switzerland for their surface mails (about 5 cents). The red marking next to the "8" is "2 fr"* which represented the amount passed to Switzerland.

* this is a weiterfranco marking, weiterfranco is a German postal term that indicates an amount of postage passed forward to the next postal service.

British Open Mail to Switzerland

The postal convention with England had a fully prepaid option to Switzerland from March of 1848 until June of 1857.  After that point, there was no prepaid option from the US via British mail.  I find that to be extremely interesting because that seems like a step backward in postal progress, something the British were not prone to doing.

Instead, a person had the option of paying the U.S. portion of the postage and then allowing the British Open Mails to arrange to have the letter sent to its destination, where all costs of mailing from the British system to its destination would be collected.  While this open mail was not in effect for all possible destinations, it was available for most of Europe.

The open mails were especially valuable for mail that was overweight but not paid as such - just as is seen in the item shown on the exhibit page and seen below.  The sender appears to have intended to pay the 21 cent French rate to Switzerland.  However, the item must have weighed more than 7.5 grams (1/4 ounce), which would require 42 cents in postage.  The postmaster realized that at least some of the postage applied to the envelope could be useful by paying the US portion of the trip to England, so the item was sent via the British Open Mail (21 cents per half ounce since an American contract ship took this mail across the Atlantic).

An alert clerk prevented loss of the entire 24 cents postage paid by using British Open Mail

 

It was up to the Swiss postal service to collect sufficient postage to cover the costs that were now to be split between the British, French and Swiss postal systems.  To simplify the accounting of the time, debits and credits were often (but not always) dealt with in bulk rather than a letter by letter basis.  For example, the British and French agreed on 40 centimes for every 30 grams of bulk mail.  The justification for this is partially based on an assumption that 30 grams would represent three to four pieces of letter mail on average.  

 

Rather than having an exact count of mail pieces and the rates paid, the entire mailbag could be weighed out to figure what was owed for the British (and later French) transit.  This is, of course, an efficient way of doing business as long as the actual averages held true to the estimates.  But, from a postal historian's perspective it makes it difficult to make the postage breakdown nice and neat.  I am sure this postal historian can get over that small issue - eventually.

For an initial take on the breakdown, please view the exhibit page if you are curious.

Why Choose One Option Over Another?

With five different options for sending mail from the US to Switzerland, how was a person to choose?

• French Mail: 21 cents per 1/4 ounce
• British Open Mail: 5 cents per 1/2 ounce OR 21 cents per 1/2 ounce with remainder to be collected from recipient in Switzerland.
• Prussian Closed Mail: 33 cents per 1/2 ounce (35 cts prior to May 1863)
• Prussian Closed Mail to border: 28 cents per 1/2 ounce with remainder to be collected from recipient.
• Bremen or Hamburg Mail: 19 cents per 1/2 ounce.

Clearly, if cost were the only consideration a person might prefer Hamburg Mail, French Mail or British Open Mail.  But, the French Mail rapidly loses its luster if the mail item exceeds 7.5 grams (now it would cost 42 cents).

Hamburg Mail looks good at 19 cents per 1/2 ounce.  But, what happens if you missed the most recent sailing of the ship for Hamburg?  You would have to wait one more week for the next departure to Bremen (or two to Hamburg).  Are you really willing to add another seven days to the typical 12 day transit period?  That means you would have to wait nearly a month for a reply.  The other mail systems benefited from being able to receive mail from multiple sailings each week.

British Open Mail and Prussian Mail to the border both require that the recipient foot part of the postage.  This may not be the best policy if you actually want the recipient to accept what you have sent to them.  After all, they were not required to accept and pay for these items.  On the other hand, there are multiple instances where it is clear that two businesses intended to split postal expenses in this fashion, so perhaps it was a reasonable option for some.

The last option to consider is the fully paid rate via the Prussian Closed Mails.  If the letter item was between 1/4 and 1/2 ounce, this option is clearly better than French Mail (42 cents).  If you were also concerned that the recipient accept the mail and not have to pay to receive that mail AND you found yourself in a position where you didn't want to wait a week for the next Bremen or Hamburg sailing, then Prussian Closed Mail is your choice.

As might be expected, my observations have shown more mail addressed to Switzerland from the United States using French mail or Bremen/Hamburg mails than the other options. Apparently, the choice was most often made by selecting the least expensive option.

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

You did it!  You made it to the end of this week's Postal History Sunday!  I hope I managed to keep you awake and interested through most of this entry.  And, if not, I hope I didn't startle you with a couple of exclamation marks at the beginning of this paragraph.

We'll see you next week with Postal History Sunday #100.  Have a good remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.