Author's Choice for 2023 - Postal History Sunday

It is Sunday and it is also the day before the turning of the calendar from 2023 to 2024.  As has been the tradition with Postal History Sunday, I am offering up what I feel are some of the best entries for the past year.  Feel free to take the links to the original articles if the description moves you to do so.  And, of course, if you think I've got it all wrong and there are others that should have made the list, feel free to let me know.

If you look under the image for each article you will find a "trivia" question.  See how many you can answer! Hint - one might find those answers by taking the link for each entry - who didn't see that coming?

Set the troubles aside, grab a favorite beverage and put on the fuzzy slippers. It's time for Postal History Sunday!

People's Choice - The Foolish Desire

1. In addition to his military service during the Civil War, what was J.W. DeForest' primary occupation?

The "People's Choice" award was actually very close this year with no entry running away from the competition.  The interesting thing, for me, was how some blogs clearly appealed to a wider audience - and they weren't always the ones I expected. 

This was actually one of the Postal History Sunday entries this year that was a rewrite of an entry from a couple of years ago.  I've learned more since it first appeared and I know that the best writing is actually re-writing.  The results here seem to back that up.

As far as a preview is concerned, the main focus is on the contents of a letter written by Harriet Silliman Shepherd to Erastus DeForest during the American Civil War.  This Postal History Sunday ranges far and wide, including bull fighting, fancy cancellations, and the chi square distribution.  Yes, you read that right.  We take our mathematics seriously here too.

11.  One Thing Leads to Another and Another Thing Leads to Another

2. What was the purpose of an exchange office for foreign letter mail?

While it might seem a bit like I am cheating to get more than eleven blog entries into this list, it's pretty difficult to separate these two because they were intended to be linked in the first place.  At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Both of these entries were inspired by a virtual presentation I provided for the Collectors Club of New York.  Okay...  It was a REAL presentation, not a virtual one.  But, I was safely ensconced in front of my computer, just as the audience members were.  I appreciate the opportunities to participate in things like this that are brought about by tools like Zoom because I might not have been able to join in otherwise.

There were many positive responses to the content I shared during the presentation, so I thought I would convert some of it to a blog form.  If you would like to learn a bit about how I use information from one cover to help me understand another cover, these blogs might be of interest to you. 

10.  Crossing the Pond and Lighting a Candle

3. Why was paraffin a popular choice for candle making in the 1860s?

I will admit that some of my favorite Postal History Sunday's to write are those where I allow myself to really explore a single cover fully and thoroughly.  This article is actually a very good example of that approach.  It starts with a step by step "reading" of the cover to help show everyone how I could determine postal rates, routes and means of transportation.  Then, we get to explore the contents and the recipients of the folded letter being featured.

This article does a good job of knowing when to quit, in my opinion.  And that's actually one of the hardest things to figure out as I write Postal History Sunday.  Clearly topics like trans-Atlantic mail carriage, candle making and the history of a specific geographical region can fill chapters in a book.  The trick is to find enough to clearly and accurately reflect enough of each subtopic to be interesting and engaging without crossing the line and becoming dull and overbearing.

9.  Validating a Dispensation

4. Why couldn't the sender prepay all of the postage to send this letter to the US?

And here is another entry that focuses on a single cover - this time from Rome to Baltimore in the 1850s.  Yes, another cover is described in the article, but the point of its inclusion is to help us understand this one better.

I like this entry because it has a nice balance between the postal history and the social history.  There's something for everyone - which makes it a good choice for this list.  It also fell together fairly easily, which is rarely the case.  There are typically a few points where everything hangs up and I have to fight through things.  It's noteworthy when that doesn't happen AND the results also read well.

8. Valuable Real Estate

5. What were the possible reasons for people implementing cross-writing in letters?

Postal History Sunday entries that appear to succeed in being accessible to a broad audience often win my favor if I am trying to decide between two choices for the Author's Choice list.  Everyone can probably relate to the idea of running out of space - just as the writer of this letter might have been feeling as they tried to put everything they could on a few sheets of paper. 

I also enjoy taking advantage of opportunities to feed everyone some postal history facts and information while you are distracted by something like cross-writing.  Or maybe I enjoy slipping in some social history while you are distracted by the postal history?  Doesn't matter, I am happy either way.

7. Farm Palace

6. How many plants did the Dickey Clay Mfg Co have at its peak?

Not every Postal History Sunday has a great deal of postal history in it.  Sometimes, the social history rules the day.  Regardless, the operative word is "history."  

The journey for this article focuses around the advertising images on a mailed envelope instead of the postage rates required or the routes the letter took to get from here to there.  I even got to do a little bit with local Iowa history this time around.  I also appreciate the opportunity to find a link to my profession as a grower of food.  Sometimes the personal connection lends more meaning - and with that meaning there is often better writing.

6. Correspondence Course II

7. How did Belgium increase its importance for mail carriage in Europe?

Sometimes, I get the urge to write about something with more breadth rather than depth.  I was able to accomplish that by focusing on several covers that were mailed to Luden and van Geuns in Amsterdam in the 1850s and 1860s.  Instead of starting by analyzing a cover, this article introduces us to the people behind the business before taking the time to look at several covers they received while they were in business from locations all over Western Europe.

This particular article is an updated rewrite of an article I shared with the Postal History Journal a couple years before Postal History Sunday existed.  Once again, I've learned a great deal since that time, so I like to think I've done the subject proud with a strong rewrite.

5.  Night Flight

8. How long might a letter take to travel from the East to West Coast via surface mail in the 1920s?

The Author's Choice blog is a chance for me to celebrate (more for myself than for you) a little bit of flexibility in my own writing and learning.  For example, it would certainly be far easier for me to write Postal History Sunday entries that focused entirely on the covers that bear the 24-cent 1861 postage stamp.  Or, at the least, stick to the 1850-1875 time period where I am most comfortable.  But, I often select entries that range further afield from that comfort zone.

That's why an article that features air mail in the United States during the 1920s was an enjoyable stretch for me.  There are all sorts of resources available for the early development of air mail, so it's not as if it was horribly difficult to find answers.  But, even when information is freely available, familiarity (or lack thereof) plays a significant role when it comes to writing clearly and accurately.  I think I did pretty well with this one, even if I do not profess to be an expert on the material, so it gets to be on this list.

4. Humbug!

9. What percent of items found their way out of the Dead Letter Office in the US?

Sometimes, I get a feeling about an item and I just know there's going to be something enjoyable to write about.  This is one of those cases.  As soon as I noticed the word "Humbug" boldly written on this cover, I just had to explore.  The result is a an entertaining blog article that falls deep into the subject of dead letter mail - a postal history subject that can quickly become complex but is always interesting.  And the idea of undeliverable letters is something we can all relate to - which makes the topic very accessible to most readers.

Another way I can tell this was a good blog was the fact that I continued to be motivated to learn more even after the article was "complete."  As a matter of fact, there's more humbuggery in this follow up Postal History Sunday.  Maybe, someday, we'll see a third installment where I put all of that and some new discoveries together?  I don't know.  I guess we'll find out together.

3. Dutch Treat

10. How long was the 27 cent postage rate for mail from the US to the Netherlands active?

It never seems to fail.  Each time I have done the year-end Author's Choice article for Postal History Sunday, there are three that I struggle to order.  On any given day, I might change my mind about where each of these three land.  I feel like that is a good sign because it indicates to me that there is some consistency in the quality of my writing (you can decide whether it's a good or bad consistency).

I received a comment regarding this particular entry that it gives a good perspective as to why some postal rates are common while others are not.  I must admit that my goal was a bit more simple at first.  I wanted to explore why it was that I had to look so long to find any example of this 27 cent rate from the US to the Netherlands.  But, as I dug into the topic, it felt natural to compare and contrast some of the options for mail between the two countries at the time.

But, there is actually one more reason why I like this Postal History Sunday article.  It felt, to me, like I had unlocked a fresh way to write about this material - a slightly different way to view it.  It might not seem all that different to you, and that's fine.  But I found some fresh perspective about how to explore things and that means something when you try to write something new each week.

2. Guano Wars

11. Why was Chincha Island important to the US and Europe in the 1860s?

This Postal History Sunday is actually one that I've been sitting on for a few years.  I've done some research on and off and written a little bit here and there on the topic.  But that writing did not get to the point where I pushed the "publish" button unless it was supplementary information for another PHS topic.

That's part of how this blog has worked over the past three and a half years.  Most topics are explored over time and the knowledge gets refined as I learn more.  Sometimes, I'll write on a topic and publish it fairly quickly - producing a reasonably good article.  Other times, I might publish something and then find it lacking when I review a year or two later.  That's when I let myself re-write what is written.  Then, there are topics like this one - where I just don't want to share it until it gets closer to where I ultimately want it to go.

This particular blog connects my profession as a grower of food to postal history and the history of a region that we often ignore in the United States (the west coast of South America).  It would not surprise me if I decided to take this particular topic even further in the future.

1. Forward! and the Mystery of Joseph Cooper

12. What happened to Joseph Cooper?

Then there are articles that come together in the matter of a couple of weeks.  And, oddly enough this time around, I actually started this particular Postal History Sunday for the prior week and got to a point where I knew there was too much.  So, I found a stopping point for that blog and left a teaser at the end of it for this one!

This is the only time out of 176 PHS articles that I stopped writing a blog and then still published what I had - only to follow up with something more the next week.  But, it worked.  I was able to ride the momentum from the prior week, using that energy to track down Joseph Cooper as best as I was able.  I even infected my lovely bride, Tammy, with the search and she helped track some information down too.

This particular entry explores a postal history topic in some detail (forwarded mail) while also taking a look at the social history surrounding not one, but two different people.  The trick was to find enough so I could write something that was compelling while, once again, avoiding the temptation of writing too much.  I don't know if this one succeeded as well as some of the others did, but the enjoyment of the search stood out for me in this blog - and that's why it lands at number one this year!

And there you are, my list for 2023.   I hope you enjoyed this and the blogs I linked here.  Have a fine remainder of your weekend and an excellent week to come.

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

Eight Tiny Reindeer? - Postal History Sunday

It's hard for me to believe that we are now deep into December - Christmas Eve to be exact.  After weeks of rushing around trying to do everything all at once, we find ourselves preparing to spend some quality time with family.  And since that's exactly what I want to be doing, it seemed right to just have a little fun with this week's Postal History Sunday.

Last year, we did Twelve Covers for a Christmas Postal History Sunday.  This year, we're going to do one for each reindeer.   If you're looking for me to be super clever with my selections as they line up with reindeer name, it's not going to happen this time around.  And, I probably won't dig too deep into any one topic.  But, that doesn't mean we can't still have a little fun.

Cupid

Ok, maybe I'll try to a be a little bit clever with my first selection.  Here is a simple letter mailed within the United States.  The postage rate was 2 cents at the time, so this tiny envelope was properly paid to get to Mrs. Alvin Hill in Ames, Iowa.  There aren't any particular clues about where this was mailed, though it could very well have been mailed in Ames.

Collectors often enjoy finding the smallest envelopes that were properly and successfully mailed.  While this is certainly not the smallest I have seen, it is small enough.  And, in this case, I also have the contents - a tiny card featuring Cupid!

No, not the reindeer.  But Cupid nonetheless. 

Perhaps this particular cover might have been a better selection to share in February, but when I've got to come up with eight covers to share and I look at one that directly links to the name of one of Santa's reindeer, I must use it.

Well, at least that's how I felt.

I'm not going to vouch for the quality of the verse in this tiny card as I do not claim to be a poet of any sort.   Still, I am not certain a person scores points for rhyming "umbrella" and "fella" in a Valentine.  

I prefer harmony to discord, so I am hopeful that Mrs. Alvin Hill wasn't a poetry critic and found the little card to be charming.  Apparently someone did (or perhaps it was just amusing), because this little letter was likely mailed some time in the early 1920s and it has survived one hundred years.

Dasher

It wasn't too difficult to think of multiple options when it came to Dasher.  Business correspondence often was sent with a certain sense of urgency, just as this letter from London to Lyon, France, likely was in 1871.  

Mailed in London on August 8, it arrived on the 10th in Lyon - which is certainly quite timely.  However, this letter was not taken to the mailing office before the mails closed for the day.  That's part of the reason why there is a big, bold "L1" in a box on this cover.

Post offices adhered to schedules that were based on the departure times for the transportation systems that carried the mail to and from those locations. So, for example, if the train that was to carry the mail from London to Dover (where it would then cross the English Channel on a steamship) was to depart the station at 10 PM, the mails to depart on that train would close at some point prior to that to allow the postal workers to properly prepare the mail and get it to that station.

For the sake of making a clear example of it, let's say this London East Central (EC) post office closed the mails to France at 9 PM so it could be ready to go on the 10 PM train.  Now imagine the poor clerk from Truninger & Company at 41 Threadneedle Street rushing to get to Saint Marten's LeGrand where the East Central London Post Office was located before the mail closes.  They enter the lobby, possibly a little out of breath, and see the window to receive mail to France... closed.  

The good news for this clerk was that, for a fee, this letter could still go out with the 10PM train.  That fee was one penny more.

Two stamps were placed on the letter.  One for 3 pence and the other for 4 pence.  The price for mail to France was 3 pence per 1/4 ounce.  So, this letter must have weighed over 1/4 ounce and no more than 1/2 ounce.  Six pence for the letter rate and one more penny to pay for a late fee.  Just so this letter could meet the 10 PM train.

Truninger and Company were exchange merchants and according to this clipping from the January 17, 1885 Hunt's Merchants' Magazine, they became insolvent after 40 years of business in 1885, fourteen years after this letter was sent.

Dancer

Well, look!  Another tiny reindeer... er... cover.  This one was mailed on January 1, 1899 at Binghamton, New York to Liberty Falls (also New York).  Once again, the 2 cent rate for letter mail was in effect for this letter as it was for our first one.

Sadly, this time I have no contents.  I also have no other reason to share this other than the fact that it is a tiny cover to hold a spot for one of the eight tiny reindeer.

For those who are wondering what "Sull. Co." at the bottom left refers to, you might initially think - as I did - that this might be a reference to a company, just as our second item had a handstamp for Truninger and Co on Threadneedle Street in London.  But, this time, you would be incorrect.  Liberty Falls is in Sullivan County in New York.

Vixen

Here is a letter mailed in the 1860s in Camden, New York, for a recipient in Camden.  The one cent stamp paid the rate for what was known as a "drop letter."  The basic idea was that if a person went to the town post office and dropped a letter there for someone else to pick up, it should not cost the same as a letter that traveled hundreds of miles to another post office location in the United States (3 cents), nor should it cost the same as a letter that would be taken by a carrier to the addressee (2 cents).

This letter was likely sent in 1868, when the 1 cent drop letter rate was effective for towns that did not have any carrier delivery service.  In those towns everyone came to the post office to pick up their mail.

While this particular cover is not a "big deal" for its postal history, it does have something sneaky interesting going on (just like a fox, eh... get it?  Vixen?  Fox?  No?   Ok, never mind).

The postage stamp on this cover is an example that the production of postage stamps was not always perfect.  This sheet of stamps must have gotten hung up somehow in the machine that punched holes to make the perforations that allowed easy separation of one stamp on a sheet from the others.  Instead of a nice rectangular stamp, you can see that the bottom and right perforations are askew.  

There's even a stray perforation at the top right.

Prancer

 
Here's a letter that was sent from Buffalo, New York on May 17, 1864 to Albany.  This cover was picked up from a post office box rather than delivered to the addressee in Albany.  All you have to note is the "Box 713" that appears at the bottom of the address panel to get that confirmation.  

The idea of a post office box was an innovation that allowed those who were willing to pay rent for a box to avoid lines at the General Delivery window to check if they had mail.  The first locked wooden mailbox door designed for customers to pick up their mail by opening that box was created in 1857.

Also of interest on this particular cover is the interesting cancellation that was used to deface the postage stamp so it could not be reused.  For a short while, cancellation devices with cutting edges or punches were used in a few post offices, including Buffalo.  If you look closely, you can see that the thin, center circle in this cancellation does cut a bit into the paper of the stamp.

The biggest difficulty with these cancellation devices, in addition to possible damage to the contents, was how quickly they became dull.  Collectors of stamps and postal history typically refer to these as patent cancellations.

Comet

And here is a reminder to us all that postal history items are not always nice, neat and easy to figure out.  The item shown above is written on thin, tissue-like paper - probably to keep the weight low enough to prevent the letter from getting too heavy (and requiring more postage).  

Like many of us, the letter writer started writing as if they had plenty of space, but eventually found that they had much more to say than they had figured.  As a result, they began to cram more and more into smaller spaces.  In the end, the letter looked like this when it was mailed.

This letter was mailed on March 30, 1857 from Rome in the Papal States.  Twelve bajocchi in postage were applied in the form of two stamps, which was apparently enough for this letter to be properly paid to get to Geneva, Switzerland.  There are three indicators that this was the case.  The red "PD" in a box, the red "Franco" and the red "X" all tell the same story.

Donner

Here's a cover that I think is a pretty example of mail from Basel, Switzerland to London in 1859.  There are two stamps paying the 60 rappen rate for mail to England via France.  The letter crossed into France at St Louis, went through Paris and eventually found it's way to London - taking three days to get there.

Now, if you look closely at the ink flourish under the word "London," you might notice that the paper is eroding there.  In fact, you might notice some small areas in the address where the paper is also gone.

This ink is probably iron gall ink, which does, over time, eat into the paper on which it was applied.  If you are interested in a brief introduction to some of the history of inks, you can try this relatively short summary by Lydia Pyne.

And, I know I told you I wasn't going to try to be too clever with my choices - but can anyone guess now why I chose this one to go with Donner?

Blitzen

Blitzen gets to show off an internal German letter mailed in 1916 and we're focusing on both the red label and the purple printing at the top of this envelope.  This letter had an extra fee paid for express courier delivery to this cigarette fabricator.  Both the label and the purple printed instructions tell us this.

But, an additional instruction at top left says "Nicht Nachts!" - which told the post that a night time delivery was not wanted for this item.

So, while they were in a hurry to get that letter to the recipient, it was likely that no one would be present to receive the letter during the night time hours.   Or perhaps, Blitzen didn't have a glowing red nose so he couldn't find the right spot until morning?

Rudolph

Did you actually think I would leave out the ninth tiny reindeer?

Of course, my Rudolph features a 24 cent US stamp from the 1861 series.  This time, it shares a cover with a 10 cent and 12 cent stamp, paying 46 cents for a letter from the US to Bergen, Norway.

Merry Christmas to you all!  And, if you don't celebrate Christmas, I wish for you all the blessings that are appropriate for you and yours.

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

Too Hyper - Postal History Sunday

Welcome again to Postal History Sunday!

For those who may be unfamiliar with Postal History Sunday, I thought it might be time to give a brief re-introduction this week.  The GFF Postal History blog started as a place where I could work on various postal history projects and perhaps, eventually, share them with others. But, when the pandemic took hold in 2020, I felt it was a way to reach out to others and share something I enjoy - perhaps helping those who read what I wrote some sense of connection or a point of interest to counter feelings of isolation.

Postal History Sunday became a regular weekly post in August of 2020.  My goal has always been to allow persons who don't have expertise in these topics a chance to see why I find these pieces of paper so interesting.  At the same time, I hope to be able to provide some tidbits of information to other postal historians that may be of interest to them.  The hobby has a wide range of sub-topics and there is always something new to learn.

If I do it right, a wide range of people should find these posts enjoyable.  If all else fails, I typically find that I learn something new - and that makes me happy.

Now, pack those troubles and worries away for a time and let's see what we have in store for us this week.

Today I am going to start with an item that was mailed on September 12, 1923, in Hanau, Germany to Saarbrucken.  It's really a bit of an ugly duckling and I am guessing some of the postal historians out there are wondering why I would give it a home.  For those of you who are not postal historians, you're probably wondering the same thing. But you wonder about that for everything I show in these blogs anyway, don't you?

Well, I won't keep you in suspense for long.  Instead, I'll just show you whats on the back.

Oooooh!  Ok.  The back of this cover has another 14 postage stamps at 5000 marks each for a total of 75,000 marks in postage. This sort of thing, where you find an intact piece of postal history that has a whole bunch of postage stamps on it, is hard for someone like me to ignore - even if it is a bit on the rough side. It's because I like items that make me ask questions.

Questions like "why?"  "Why so many stamps to mail this envelope?)

This postage on this envelope covered what was needed for a simple, internal letter in Germany.  If you've read some of these blogs before, you might recognize that a simple letter that has a origin and destination within the same country is the most common piece of mail a person can find.  

So, you might ask a new question - "Why did they use so many stamps to pay for a simple letter?"  Since that's a very good question, I thought I'd go about answering it!

The kicker is that this particular rate (75,000 marks for a letter weighing no more than 20 grams) only lasted from September 1, 1923 until September 19 of the same year. 

Mailing costs during hyper-inflation

This is an area of postal history that fascinates many people, but is not in my area of expertise.  Of course, that does not mean I can't find my way around the subject - but it does mean that I will miss subtle differences that a person who concentrates on this area will see.  If you are that person, feel free to feed me more information if you think I am missing something.

The period of time after World War I was difficult for Germany after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919.  The treaty caused Germany to forfeit their overseas colonies as well as contested areas in Europe.  Limits were placed on their military and Germany was forced to pay 132 billion gold marks in reparations to compensate for civilian losses due to the war.  The amounts that were actually paid and the timeline for that payment are another story that you can find if you are interested.

The aftermath of the war in Germany set the stage for something called hyper-inflation which was, in part, fueled by the unrestrained printing of paper money and government debt.  Of course, the situation was much more complex than that and if you would like to read a fairly easy to follow piece that explains hyper-inflation in Germany better than I will - please check it out on the PBS site.   

To give you an idea of the type of inflation were are talking about "prices that had doubled from 1914 to 1919 doubled again during just five months in 1922."  Prices continued to increase rapidly throughout the rest of 1922 and throughout 1923.  As 1923 progressed, people looked at the first five months of 1922 wistfully because merely doubling prices seemed pretty tame by October of 1923.

And here is where postal history intersects with fiscal history.  By collecting old letters from Germany in 1922 and 1923 you can get a real lesson in what hyper-inflation looks like.

A Domestic Letter in 1920

I'm going to start with a simple letter sent in November of 1920.  The cost of sending a letter that weighed no more than 20 grams to another destination within Germany's border was 40 pfennig (100 pfennig = 1 mark - not unlike our cents and dollar in the US).  This rate was effective from May 6, 1920 until March 31, 1921.  Prior to World War I, the postage rate had been 10 pfennig, so we can already see that the simple act of mailing a letter was already four times more expensive.

I suppose at this point, people might already have been a little bit disgruntled by the higher postage rates, which accurately mirrored prices of other items, such as milk, bread, paper and other common items.  

This rate would increase to 60 pfennig on April 1, 1921.  Certainly annoying, but it would be nothing like the next jump in the postage rate.

The January 1, 1922 Increase

Just like every business in Germany at the time, their post office department was finding that expenses were rapidly increasing and their employees were demanding greater pay so they could stay ahead of the cost of living trends.

The cost of a single letter, that weighed no more than 20 grams, was pushed to 2 marks (200 pfennig).  The letter below was mailed on April 12 of 1922 and shows a 2 mark postage stamp.

Let me put this in perspective. Here are the letter rates in the United States during the first part of the 1900s.

 Letter Mail Rates in the United States

Effective Date	Rate	Per
July 1, 1863	3 cents	half ounce
October 1, 1883	2 cents	half ounce
July 1, 1885	2 cents	ounce
November 2, 1917	3 cents	ounce
July 1, 1919	2 cents	ounce
July 6, 1932	3 cents	ounce

The postage rates in the United States went up one penny to help pay for the war effort, but it was then reduced after the conclusion of the conflict.  The rate did not increase to three cents again until 1932.  and let me remind you that the amount of territory covered by the post office in the United States was far greater than Germany's in the 1920s.  Our current price in the US to mail a letter is 66 cents.

This rate increase would be like jumping our 66 cent rate for one ounce to more than two dollars tomorrow.  While I know few people send much mail anymore, you can still imagine how this would be received.  Those of us who still send letters or bills via mail just might finally give up that idea.

Rapid Increases Followed

People who specifically collect and study German mail from this period have a lot to look for and plenty to enjoy.  From January, 1920 to December of 1923, there are twenty-four changes in the domestic letter rate.  And get this - the shortest rate period lasted just SIX days.   

Just like our first item, the letter below required 75,000 marks to pay for a simple domestic letter.  And again, this rate was effective for only 19 days.  At the end of that time period it jumped to... oh.... 250,000 marks.

The exceptionally short rate periods found the postal service unable to respond with new postage stamp designs for each change.  So, to cover the demand for stamps, they started overprinting existing postage stamps with values reflecting the new postage rates.  

The letter above actually has a 1000 mark stamp that was overprinted with the new 75,000 mark value.  Or, like our first item - it took a whole bunch of stamps that had the lower denominations to accurately and fully pay the new, higher postage rate.

Of course, with all of the changes, there are many covers that show an incorrect postage amount that was accepted.  Or, even if the amount paid in cash was correct, it might have been easy to make a mistake with the correct postage stamps.

As a matter of fact, in August of 1923, the German post offices allowed for cash payment without requiring the use of postage stamps simply because it was difficult to get the stamps to every post office in the country quick enough.

Be a "Millionaire" to Mail a Letter

The rate from October 1 to October 9 of 1923 was actually 2 MILLION marks for a letter weighing no more than 20 grams.  The letter shown below was mailed on October 8.

One of the things we need to remember about all of this is that "two million marks" did not represent the same value that "two million marks" once held.  In late 1923, you could have trainloads of German paper money and it would actually have very little value.  People who were able to had moved towards acquiring physical property that would retain some value.  The PBS essay mentions that many families purchased pianos, even though no one in the family played them - just so they would have something of value for their money.

I was curious if there was a good summary as to who was able to handle hyper-inflation in Germany and who might have struggled.  There is an excellent summary of the most commonly accepted stages of hyperinflation in Germany in this BBC article.  Of interest to me is the following from that page on June 12, 2021.

Hyperinflation winners:

• Borrowers, such as businessmen, landowners and those with mortgages, found they were able to pay back their loans easily with worthless money.
• People on wages were relatively safe, because they could renegotiate their wages every day. However, even their wages eventually failed to keep up with prices.
• Farmers coped well, since their products remained in demand and they received more money for them as prices spiraled.

Hyperinflation losers:

• People on fixed incomes, like students, pensioners or the sick, found their incomes did not keep up with prices.
• People with savings and those who had lent money, for example to the government, were the most badly hit as their money became worthless.

As a farmer, I might suggest that farmers may have coped well because they were in a population that is often more willing to accept barter agreements.  But, I am not an economist, so we'll not go there!

Back to "Normal"

In December of 1923, Germany issued a new currency and allowed for an exchange rate of 1 trillion marks for a SINGLE new "Renten-Mark."   The postage rate was reset at 10 pfennig (in the new currency) and the hyperinflation period was over.

But, before this blog is over, I thought I would share one more.

A favorite item in my own collection has an Iowa connection.  This letter was mailed on April 23, 1923 to Muscatine at the cost of 300 marks.  This rate was effective from March until the end of June.  I would not be horribly surprised to learn that this may have been yet another German businessperson investing in the US dollar and abandoning the German mark. 

And... there you are!  A journey to Germany in the early 1920s - all without leaving your seat (unless you like to read and walk at the same time?).

Have a great remainder of the weekend and a wonderful week to come!

Want to Learn More?

The small booklet by Gerhard Binder titled The Postal Rates in Germany from 1906 to 1923: The High Inflation 1923 is a wonderful resource that helped me to get the basic knowledge I needed for German postal history at that time.  

If you enjoy postal history and want to see what a person might do if this was a topic they wanted to focus on, you can look at Extraordinary Frankings from the German Inflation: 1919-1923 by Charles L Williams.

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

Sneaky Clues Too - Postal History Sunday

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

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

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

Clues to get from here to there

One of the skills a postal historian develops over time is the ability to "read" each cover.  The process of reading a cover allows a person to discover details about where an item was mailed, where it was destined to go, and where it went on the way there.  Reading a cover also helps us to determine what the required postage was and how much of that postage was actually paid.

Sometimes, there are sneaky clues that can either help us read a cover or confirm for us that our reading is correct.  I thought I'd start today with a heavier letter sent from France to Belgium in 1861.

40 centimes per 10 grams : April 1, 1858 to December 31, 1865

The French and the Belgians came to an agreement that the simple rate between their two countries would be 40 centimes for each 10 grams in weight.  This rate was put into effect in 1858 and continued until the end of 1865.  So, this would be the postal rate that would apply to this particular letter.

This letter entered the French mail system at St Etienne, France on April 27, 1861 and was destined for Roulers, Belgium.  The route this particular letter is not a big secret, because there are numerous transit marks on the back of the folded letter.  The letter boarded a train at Lyon that was bound for Paris on the same day it was mailed, but it didn't leave on the train out of Paris until the next morning.  

It took the train bound for Calais but, instead of going all the way to Calais, it was moved the Belgian mail system.  This is confirmed by two strikes of the marking that reads "France par Mouscron."  It finally arrived at Roulers on the 28th on the train arriving between 2 and 3 in the afternoon.

I suspect most people could figure out that markings dated on the 27th would have been placed on the envelope before those dated April 28.  But, you might be wondering how I deciphered the ordering of these markings with such certainty. And, you might also be justified in asking how I could make a claim that the letter arrived between 2 and 3 in the afternoon.

Roulers, 28 Avr. 2-3S, 1861

The sneaky clue that provided the answer for that last part was located in the receiving mark for Roulers (Rouselare).  Belgian rail markings often included a time stamp which allowed them to track the train that carried the letter.  The letter "m" would stand for "matin" (morning) and "s" indicated "soir" (evening).  Or, if it makes the US readers feel better, AM and PM.  

We can actually see a better (and clearer) example of the time marking here:

France par Mouscron, 28 Avr. 12-1S, 61

This is the Belgian exchange marking that was applied on the Belgian mail car that ran from Lille, France to Mouscron, Belgium.  It was there between noon and 1PM according to the 12-1S portion of the transit marking.

The actual border crossing was at Tourcoing (France).  For those who like a little bit of trivia, the rail line from Tourcoing to Mouscron was the first to cross a European border (1842).  Mouscron was a key junction for the Belgian railroads at the time.  So, while Roulers was not terribly far away (just northwest of Courtrai), it is likely that there was a transfer or either mailbags or mailcars at that location.

From a collection of images at this site (viewed 12/9/23)

The other, not so sneaky, clue to determine the order these markings were applied has to do with geographical knowledge - or access to maps.  If you know St Etienne is closer to Lyon, that will help get you started.

The other puzzle with this cover is determining how much postage was paid (and why that much postage was paid).  The three postage stamps each represent 40 centimes in postage paid.  The "P.D." marking tells us it was considered paid in full.  But, once again the postage rate was 40 centimes per 10 grams.  So, this must be a triple weight letter.  

• A simple letter would weigh no more than 10 grams (40 centimes)
• A double weight letter would weigh more than 10 grams and no more than 20 grams (80 centimes)
• A triple weight letter would weigh more than 20 grams and no more than 30 grams (120 centimes)

But, I can tell you that this letter weighed 25 grams - because of this sneaky clue.

Clues to figure out what the postage paid for

I thought I would stick with some Belgian postal history and show a folded letter from Mettet, Belgium, that was mailed in December of 1854 to Charleroy, also in Belgium.  So, this is an internal letter, rather than a letter exchanged between nations. 

40 centimes for a local letter (under 30 km) weighing 20-60 gms (Jul 1, 1849 - Oct 31, 1868)

This is a domestic letter with two 20 centime stamps to pay the postage (a total of 40 centimes).  The question is - why was 40 centimes needed to mail this letter?

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

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

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

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

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

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

It turns out that they are roughly 24 km distant from each other.  This tells us that this was probably a "local" letter.  I say "probably" because the distances we see in today's maps are not necessarily representative of how the Belgian postal services in 1854 classified it.  Instead of having exact mileage, most distance rates were calculated by seeing where each possible destination settlement landed in a table predetermined by the post office.  Still, given the modern measurement, odds are very good that this was a local letter (under 30km). 

So, if we know that a local letter required 40 centimes for an item weighing more than 20 grams and no more than 60 grams, we have (mostly) solved the problem!  We cannot eliminate the possibility that this was an overpayment for either the first or second rate levels.  But, the simplest solution is to say that the postage paid the third rate level for a local letter.

Clue #3 A weight is referenced in a docket:

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

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

40 centimes per 15 grams: Oct 1, 1857 - Jul 31, 1865

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

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

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

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

Eights are wild

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not just an 1850s thing

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, this was a piece of mail to an individual who sold postage stamps to philatelists (people who collect and study postage stamps).  That, by itself, could explain a few things.

Giving credit where it's due

This time, we're going to start with a letter that was sent from Newport, Rhode Island to Paris, France in 1866.  Can you guess what "sneaky clue" I am going to focus on?

Actually, this time around, I wanted to show how well ALL of the pieces of the story being told by this envelope work together. 

The red "45" at the bottom left is equivalent to the amount of postage found on this envelope: one 24-cent stamp, two 10-cent stamps and one 1-cent stamp = 45 cents total.

The postage rate for letter mail from the United States to France at the time was 15 cents per 1/4 ounce of weight (effective April 1857-Dec 1869).  Forty-five is a multiple of fifteen, so that's a good sign.

The numbers in red pencil read "36 / 3" - which is exactly what they should be.  But why?

I took a moment to enhance the red pencil mark and remove some of the distracting marks from the address panel so you can better see what it is that I am referring to.  

The "3" is in reference to the fact that this letter must have weighed more than 1/2 ounce and no more than 3/4 ounce.  In other words, postage needed to be three times the simple letter rate (15 cents).  So, this number confirms the amount of postage AND the "45" marking at the lower left.  So far so good.

But, what is it with the "36"? 

This is where the docket AND the round, red Boston marking come in.  The docket reads "per Cunard Steamer of Wed Dec 5th from Boston."   The red Boston marking is dated December 5 and states that the postage is paid.  It certainly is nice that both of these things agree about when this letter was put on a steamship (the Cunard Line's Africa) - but this is ALSO where the "36" ties in to the whole story.

Of the 45 cents collected in postage by the United States, thirty-six cents were to be passed on to France so they could pay for their expenses AND so they could pass money to the British.  After all, the Cunard Line was under contract with the British Postal Service to carry the mail across the Atlantic.  

In the end, the postage was broken down as follows:

• 9 cents for the United States
• 36 cents went to the French who used it to pay for
• 18 cents to the British for the trip across the Atlantic
• 6 cents to cover the British surface mail and transit across the English Channel
• 12 cents kept by the French to pay for their own postal expenses.
  

Now, these amounts are rough approximations, because the British wanted their shillings and pence and the French their centimes and decimes.  So, of course, the French would take their equivalent from the US 36 cents and then pass amounts in their own currency on. 

In any event, the 36/3 marking is correct because the ship that carried the letter across the Atlantic had a contract with the British.  If that ship had been contracted with the United States or France, the first number would have been different - and so would the red pencil markings.

And that's how it all ties together.  Why is this interesting or important to a postal historian?

What would happen if we had a letter that did not have a docket, did not have the red "45" and the red Boston marking was smeared?  If there was only a "36/3" clearly written in pencil and 45 cents in postage on the envelope, we could still be able to piece most of the story together because we've seen items (like this one) where all of the pieces are completely and clearly spelled out.  That's part of the reason why I have worked to become more conversant in "sneaky clues."  Sometimes, not everything will be as easily read as they are on our first example.

And sometimes it just wasn't enough

Here is an 1856 folded letter that was sent from Nancy, Franc to Paris.  There is a 20 centime stamp at the top right and the red box at the top left reads "affranchissement insuffisant" (insufficient postage).

As a public service, I now give you a table that shows the internal letter rates for France during the second half of the 1800s.  I highlighted the text of the row that applies to this letter.

Prepaid Internal Letter Rates for France

Date	1st Rate	up to	2nd Rate	up to	3rd Rate	up to	Additional	Per
Jan 1, 1849	0,20	7.5g	0,40	15g	1,00	100g	1,00	100g
Jul 1, 1850	0,25	7.5g	0,50	15g	1,00	100g	1,00	100g
Jul 1, 1854	0,20	7.5g	0,40	15g	0,80	100g	0,80	100g
Jan 1, 1862	0,20	10g	0,40	20g	0,80	100g	0,80	100g
Sep 1, 1871	0,25	10g	0,40	20g	0,70	50g	0,50	50g
Jan 1, 1876	0,25	15g	0,50	30g	0,75	50g	0,50	50g
May 1, 1878	0,15	15g	-	-	-	-	0,15	15g

A simple letter would weigh no more than 7.5 grams and would cost 20 centimes.  Apparently, the person who mailed this felt the letter was not too heavy and paid the cost for a simple letter.  The French postal clerk, on the other hand, did not agree - and they gave us evidence of that fact.

Well, well.  It looks the writer exceeded the weight limit by one-half gram (the marking above reads "8 g" or 8 grams).

For reference, 1/2 gram is the weight of half of a typical business card or half of a raisin.  It's not much.  But, rules IS rules - and this letter simply weighed too much.  Which means the amount of postage paid should have been 40 centimes.

At that time, the regulations for short paid mail in France required the recipient to pay the full amount of postage AS IF nothing had been paid at all.  In other words, the postage stamp paid for none of the postage required to send this item.  Think of it as a donation to the French Post Office if that helps your understanding.  

It may not seem fair that no credit was given for the postage provided - but at the time post offices around the world were trying to enforce pre-payment of letters.  Maybe a few harsh economic lessons would be enough to get the point across?

So, the amount due to the recipient was 40 centimes, which is represented by the big squiggle shown in the image at the left.  Yes, that is a "4," which stands for 4 decimes (equal to 40 centimes).  Remember, the French often used decimes for postal accounting, which is the equivalent to Americans referring to 4 dimes instead of 40 cents.

Now, if you are still staring at the squiggle and STILL don't see a "4," I understand.  This just might be one of those times you're just going to have to trust me.

Let's get a bit more complicated!

Uh oh!  Here's that Thurn and Taxis post again!  Take a look at this 1865 folded lettersheet mailed from Sonneberg (Thuringia) to Leipzig (in Saxony).  Thuringia was another area, like the Hessian States, that used the house of Thurn and Taxis for their mail.

The target-like cancellations on the stamps have the number "265" in the center, which was the number assigned to the Sonneberg post office.  The pencil number "265" with an arrow pointing to the purplish marking was put on the cover by a previous collector.  The intent is probably to indicate that they determined that the purple marking was also applied in Sonneberg.

This marking indicates that the letter was sent as a "registered" letter (Recommandirt).  In order to register a letter, an additional 6 kreuzer in postage was required.  And, some of the numbers found on this cover - those at the top right - are numbers used to track the progress of this letter as it traveled to its destination.  The "293" was likely the number in the Sonneberg ledgers that tracked this letter's departure and "205" may well have been Leipzig's ledger number to record the reception of the letter at their office.

So - we have 6 kreuzer spoken for - that leaves us with 12 kreuzer in postage paid.

The rate between Sonneberg and Leipzig was 6 kreuzer per loth.  At the time, mail in the German States included both a distance and a weight variable to determine the postage required.  The distance between the two cities was between 10 and 20 meilen (German miles) - if they had been closer it would only cost 3 kreuzer per loth.

And, there it is!  Our sneaky clue resided at the left, just under the postage stamps.  This scrawl in black pen reads "1 3/20 L," with the "L" standing for loth, the weight unit in use by German postal services at the time.  One loth is roughly equivalent to a half ounce.

So, this letter weighed over one loth and no more than 2 loth, which made it a double weight letter and the total postage needed can be calculated in this fashion:

• Registration Fee 6 kreuzer
• Rate per loth for distance between 10 & 20 meilen - 6 kreuzer x 2 = 12 kreuzer
• Total = 18 kreuzer

Look on the other side

Here is another piece of French postal history to consider from 1864.  This item was also sent as a "registered" item (Chargé).  But, that's not what I want to focus on this time around.  

This item was returned to the sender, which would have been the Tribunal Court in Chambery.  The contents are a court summons that apparently did not find the person they were "summoning!"

But, how did I know this was returned to the sender?

The sneaky clue is at the bottom right, just under the Chambery postmark.  The words "au dos," when placed on a piece of letter mail explains that the carrier or clerk should "look on the back" for more explanation.  So, I looked on the back - and this is what I found:

The word "Inconnu," which would translate to "unknown."  The post office in Chambery was unable to locate the recipient of this court summons and they simply returned it to the Tribunal.  

Well, if the postal service can't find you, I guess you don't need to go to court.

And sometimes, there is no postal significance

Let's close with this 1867 envelope that was sent from New Orleans, Louisiana to Kurnik, Prussia (now in Poland).  The postage applied is 28 cents, which is the correct postage for a simple letter sent to Prussia (not weighing more than 1/2 ounce).  The New Orleans, New York and Aachen markings clearly show the travels this letter took and the dates it visited each location.  A single marking on the back tells us it arrived at the destination post office on April 15.

But, what is all of this?  The use of blue and red pencil might be an indication that there might be some postal significance - but what?

I have to admit that I was puzzled by these markings for some time.  The numbers "15" and "4" really don't connect to any postal rate calculations that I could determine.  And, there was no reason (and no way) for this item to have traveled through Orleans, France.... unless that is not the word "Orleans" written in blue.

So, this particular set of markings sat in my "to be solved" list for a long time.  Until, one day, I asked the right people and got an answer that makes perfect sense.

This is a docket written by the recipient, simply recording that the letter was received on the 15th of April (4th month) from Orleans (New Orleans).  The little red squiggle before the numbers was simply an abbreviation to indicate a received date, which matches the date of the postal arrival date on the back.  They must have changed from a red to a blue pencil because the former was dull and they just wanted to finish the job without pausing to sharpen it.

Sometimes the answer is so simple that it is almost embarrassing to admit it to others.  In this case, I think I can hide behind the fact that most Americans list dates in month/day order rather than day/month order.  That's about the only defense I have right now - but I do feel much better now that the mystery is not so much of a mystery any more. 

Thank you for joining me for a longer Postal History Sunday this week.  I hope you were at least slightly entertained and maybe you learned a new thing or two.  Have a good remainder of your day and a fine week to come!

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.