For What Ails You - Postal History Sunday

If you are new to Postal History Sunday, you are most welcome!  If you are returning, you know what to do!  Grab a snack and a beverage and pull up your favorite chair to join the rest of us.  Maybe we'll learn something new together this week?

Oh - and before we get started, we need to take those worries and troubles and spread them on the bottoms of your shoes.  Put those shoes on and walk around outside for a few minutes until you've successfully wiped them off and you can't recognize them anymore.

There - now we're ready!

The 1893 Columbian issue of postage stamps

Like so many collectors of United States stamps, I always held the 1893 issue that commemorated the landing of Columbus as something I would love to obtain a complete set of someday.  This is a tall order because there are sixteen different stamps in the group and the last five have denominations of $1 through $5.  That translates to a significant chunk of change if you want to collect a whole set.  Why?  Well, they don't cost a couple of dollars anymore - they can cost a whole lot of dollars!

The most common denomination is the 2 cent stamp.  There were lots and LOTS of these printed and you can find pretty much as many of them as you would like if you wish without spending much money at all.  And, if you would like to collect postal history with that stamp, you can do just fine on a limited budget.

For example, here is a fairly common piece of mail from Stoughton, Wisconsin to Madison mailed in the 1890s.  I like it because we used to live in Madison and we had friends living in Stoughton.  There's a personal connection which makes it a little more interesting for me.

I have a long-standing goal to see if I can find a piece of postal history showing each of the Columbian stamps that have a denomination UNDER the $1 value.  I suspect I won't allow myself to spend what it would take to get those with $1 and up denominations - and I am okay with that.  The majority of the items with dollar values on cover typically fail to show payment of an actual postage rate.  They were often mailed to or from a collector who overpaid the postage needed - just to get a postally used copy of that stamp.  There's absolutely nothing wrong with that, it just doesn't appeal to me enough to want to build up the funds and then spend the money. 

After all, there is enough of a challenge (and reward) finding the lower value stamps properly paying a postage rate as it is!

Along Comes the Otis Clapp & Son Correspondence

If you are a postal historian, you recognize that we owe a debt to those who kept all of their old envelopes and wrappers and we owe an equal debt to the subsequent caretakers of this material who eventually allowed someone to acquire them for collecting purposes rather than burning them!

There are a fair number of items that were addressed to or sent from Otis Clapp & Son.  Most of the material appears to be the address and postage portions of packages that were wrapped in the typical brown paper used for parcels at that time.

Above is a package front addressed to Otis Clapp & Son of Providence, Rhode Island.  Total postage is 45 cents, including a 30 cent and 6 cent Columbian issue stamp.  For those of you keeping track at home, the Columbian denominations under one dollar were 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 15, 30 and 50 cents.  So, I can cross off the 30 and the 6 from that list!

Unfortunately, the mute cancels are smudged and unreadable if they had any words on them in the first place.  And, since there is no return address on this package piece we cannot ascertain where it was mailed from, nor can we be absolutely certain as to the year it was mailed.  

However, it is a fairly safe bet that this item was mailed in 1893 simply because the 1 cent and 2 cent issues are from the stamp series that was commonly found at post offices from 1890 to 1893.   The stamps with most common use (such as these low value stamps) tend to make their appearance on postal history items closer to their dates of issue.  If this package were mailed in 1895, for example, we would expect the designs of the 1 and 2 cent stamps to match a newer series of stamps issued in 1894.

Wait!  You want to know what I mean by a "mute cancel?"  

Let me remind you of this stamp:

The oval cancel has city name "Boston" across the top.  If you look at the oval cancels on the package wrapper, you will see no indication as to the town and there doesn't appear to be a date either.  They have nothing to say - hence they are mute.  It's not my term, but it is the one used in the hobby to indicate that no city or date is included in the postal marking.

Internal Fourth-Class Mail 1879-1912

Since these are package fronts, we cannot be certain, but it is a good, educated guess, that the contents fit the definition of fourth-class mail.  Essentially, anything that was not classified as first, second or third class mail fell into this final class of items that could be sent via the postal service.  This included various merchandise, including the types of materials Otis Clapp and Son might ship out or receive. 

The rate was very simple - 1 cent for every ounce up to 4 pounds.  And, this postal rate was effective from May 1, 1879 to December 31, 1912.  Thus, the item above would have weighed 45 ounces (2 lbs 13 oz) if we agree that it was a fourth class mail item - which I think is an accurate conclusion.

A similar, third-class mail rate was 1 cent for every 2 ounces and was applied to all types of printed matter packages, such as books, circulars and newspapers.  It too, had a 4 pound limit, which eliminates it as a possibility for the package front shown above (at this rate, it would have weighed over five pounds, which was not allowed by regulation).

The item shown above is franked only by a 15-cent Columbus stamp and is likely an example of a 15 ounce package mailed at the fourth-class rate.  However, we cannot rule out the possibility that this was printed matter carried in a wrapper, making it a third-class rate.  We may never know for certain, and that's just the way things are sometimes!  But maybe we can figure out the most likely solution and accept that as good enough.

There are two options to describe this one:

1. It was a catalog or some such printed item that weighed 30 ounces and was mailed as a third-class mail item.
2. It was merchandise of some sort that weighed 15 ounces and was mailed at the fourth-class rate.
   

Thirty ounces is a pretty hefty catalog for a specialized company like J. Ellwood Lee and Co, so my conclusion is that this was also a fourth-class mail item.

Unlike the first item, we have no other other clues to help us determine a likely year of mailing.  And, just like the first item, we have no postmarks that will help us.  However, a quick history of the J. Ellwood Lee Company gives us an idea that, perhaps, we should not be surprised if it was mailed somewhere in the 1893-1894 period.

J. Ellwood Lee Co

The J Ellwood Lee Company of Conshohockem, Pennsylvannia, (say that town name three times fast!) was a well-known supplier of medical supplies, such as rubber gloves, ligatures, rubber tubing, as well as other medical equipment.  

John Ellwood Lee was born in 1860 and started the business in the attic of his parents' home in 1883.  By the time the Columbian Exposition came around (the time when the Columbian stamps were issued) in 1893 his company was quite well established.  J Ellwood Lee Company won five gold medals against international competition at the fair.  The company's involvement in the exposition doesn't make it hard to see why Columbian issue stamps might be on some of their mailings.  A proud winner of five gold medals was celebrating by using the stamps issued in conjunction with the exposition to mail product.  It seems unlikely that he would have purchased so many stamps that they would be in use too many years after 1893.

This article on the Pennsylvania Heritage site can provide more detail on J Ellwood Lee if you find that interesting. 

Oddly enough, Johnson & Johnson (yes, that Johnson & Johnson) purchased J. Ellwood Lee Company in 1905, placing Ellwood Lee onto its board of directors. 

Supposing this package held rubber tubing (not a bad guess giving Otis Clapp & Son's activities), 15 ounces could have held a reasonable amount of tubing.  Below is an invoice that was on an online auction site (image no longer available).

The invoice shows an 1894 purchase of reels of silk - presumably used for stitches.  Given Otis Clapp & Son's focus as a pharmaceutical business and the advertising on the front, I think it more likely that the second package front carried some sort of rubber tubing - but it is still only a guess.

Antikamnia Chemical Company

Above is an item that bears 51 cents in postage to carry a package that must have weighed three pounds and three ounces of weight.  Unlike the other two, this one was sent from Otis Clapp & Son to a customer in St Louis, Missouri, the Antikamnia Chemical Company.

Once again, we have a 1 cent stamp from the 1890-93 definitive issue that encourages me to believe that this, too, is an 1893-94 mailing.

The Antikamnia Chemical Company (established 1890) was known for its powder and tablet products to reduce pain.  The main ingredient, acetanilid, was sometimes mixed by this company with other active ingredients such as codeine, heroin and quinine.  The initial efficacy of acetanilid rested on a single German study of 24 patients, but Antikamnia is known for prolific advertising to maintain sales of this product even after running afoul of the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906.  

In his article, William Fiedler (see resources) states that "Antikamnia, representing a therapeutically acceptable remedy for which many totally unfounded claims were made, could well be called a 'pseudo-ethical pharmaceutical.'"  Fiedler's article does a fine job of outlining the history of this company for those who have interest.  The founders, Frank Ruf and Louis Frost, both later laid claim to the ideas that started the business and Frost was forced to sell his share of the company in 1892.  

The bookmark shown above is not in my possession and was found as an offering on Etsy.  An interested person could find numerous items showing advertising by each company highlighted in today's Postal History Sunday with a little looking.

Otis Clapp & Son

Otis Clapp first opened his retail homeopathic pharmacy in 1840 and the company Otis Clapp & Son was still operating until it was purchased in 2008.  Oddly enough, you can find the company advertising various homeopathic remedies over a long span of time AND you can find it listed as a publishing company.

By all accounts, Otis was a remarkable individual, serving in the Massachusetts House of Representatives, is listed as a founder for M.I.T., the Boston Female Medical College and an orphanage. 

Otis' son was also quite remarkable.  Dr. J. Wilkinson Clapp was a professor of pharmacy at the Boston University Medical School and put emphasis on research.  A decent outline of their history can be found at the Sue Young Histories site.  Sadly, the old Otis Clapp company site with the company history has been taken down, so I can no longer reference it.

Apparently, Otis Clapp bottles are a fairly popular collectors item.  These bottles were found on the Antiques Navigator site. 

What I find interesting in all of this is the connections these three pieces of postal history make within the medical and pharmaceuticals fields.  Clearly, Otis Clapp & Company was populated by exceptional people and the early stories surrounding that company are generally positive.  Similarly, J Ellwood Lee was seen in a good light - even by employees well after he could have been excused from personal interaction with the workers.  In both cases, the primary players saw significant success while being regarded as good and honorable individuals.

On the other hand, the founders of the Antikamnia Chemical Company could be said to have found financial success, but there is some question about the ethics and product quality that went along with it all.  It could be interesting to uncover how Clapp and Lee might have felt about Antikamnia in the 1890s.  Maybe that's a project for another day? 

But, perhaps we should get back to the postal history stuff now?

Why the Ugly Cancellations?

The postal markings available to us on these parcel fronts are far from helpful to the postal historian.  However, they did the job they were intended to do - deface the postage stamps so they could not be re-used.  

Most third and fourth class mail items were struck with cancellation devices that did not include a date and sometimes did not even indicate a city/town of origin.  In the fine book by Beecher and Wawrukiewicz (see resources), they suggest that these 'mute' cancels purposefully eliminated the date to not call attention to the speed of delivery of this type of mail.  

We need to remember that all sorts of things were being mailed in fourth-class.  Sometimes an item would simply have a mailing tag tied to it.  With all of the different sizes and shapes, shipping could provide some interesting puzzles for the postal service.  It is no wonder that it might take longer and it is understandable that they did not want to give customers any additional ammunition to complain about the speed of delivery.

Not all of these cancels were perfectly mute - often giving a town name.  It is possible the markings on the items shown today had such text, but I can't make it out if they did.

As far as the quality of the strikes are concerned, we can also surmise that the package surface was rarely as stable as a flat letter on a solid table top or mailing counter would be.  It does not take much of an experience with a stamping device to figure out exactly how hard it is to get a clean strike on an unevenly supported surface.

Thank you for joining me this week.  I hope you have a great remainder of your day and a fine week to come.

Resources:

H. Beecher and T. Wawrukiewicz, US Domestic Postal Rates, 1872-1999, 2nd ed.  ( a newer, third edition to 2011 is now available) 

Fiedler, William C. (1979). "Antikamnia: The Story of a Pseudo-ethical Pharmaceutical". Pharmacy in History. 21 (2): 59–72

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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.

Display - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday, a weekly online offering where I write about postal history related topics that I enjoy.  Everyone is welcome here.  Each article is written with the intent of making it accessible to those who do not have significant knowledge of the topic while still making it interesting to those who may have expertise in that same area.

This week I am finally going to get around to answering a question I've received on and off for the past few years.  In essence, the question has to do with how I go about displaying the actual postal history artifacts.

When I don't have a display page made, I typically store folded letters and envelopes in Mylar / archival safe sleeves that come in standard sizes.  There are also three hole punched, 8 1/2 by 11 inch, pages with pockets for storage of old letters and wrappers.  This is where they stay until I find the time and motivation to research the covers and make a page.  I can place paper slips with descriptive notes written in pencil into the sleeves or I can put a label on the sleeve or pages to help me remember key points that I've discovered over time.

Now, before I go much further, let me make something clear.  I am writing from the "perfect world" perspective.  Things don't always go this way all the time.  I have notepads of paper with various research notes and I have electronic files with other notes - not necessarily organized in a way that makes them easy to find.  This is what happens when you grab five or ten minutes here and there to seek an answer to a question.  You just put the answer somewhere and hope you can find it again when you want it.

The same thing goes for when I go through the process of creating display pages.  The process isn't always as smooth as it sounds because it is often interrupted by the rest of life - job, farm, friends and even Postal History Sundays! 

Shown above is the display page for the item that I used to open up this week's article.  This piece of printed matter included all of the contents, so I also had to make choices about what I wanted to display and what I was okay with not showing on the page.  Happily, the technology to scan items and make images that I can re-size makes it easier to illustrate as much (or as little) of the interior, or reverse, of an item as I choose.  

This particular item has more content than is illustrated on the display page.  Clearly, choices had to be made in the interest of clarity and aesthetics.  And that's one of the main issues when it comes to creating the page - how do you use the "real estate" available for each item in the best way?  If you want to keep things to a standard page size, there are some very real boundaries that need to be considered.

I like to include some consistent information on each page, such as the postage rates, information about the route the item traveled and a description of the postage stamps (if any) used to pay the postage.  I also like to provide some additional point(s) of interest - usually at the bottom of the page - because I've just got to be me.

I create my page designs in a software program called Visio, which allows me to lay elements out on a grid, opening up the possibility that I can place an element anywhere on the page.  I use a scan of the postal history artifact that is scaled to its original size so I can make sure everything will fit on the page.  You might notice that I opted to experiment a little with the layout for the item shown above.

It is not uncommon for me to take digitized copies of maps from the same period of the postal history item(s) I am displaying.  I use open source software called Gimp to fade out the map and add my own highlights as I deem necessary.  For the map above, I darkened the country borders and provided bolder labels for geographic features that applied to the postal history shown on the page.

My interest in postal history stems from philately (the study and collecting of postage stamps), so it should not be a surprise that I have mixed the two on a page.  One of my favorite postal issues from the Netherlands is shown above with a single cover to illustrate the use of the most common denomination (5 Dutch cents).  This has become a bit less common for me to do as I move further into postal history and seek to find new homes for much of the off-cover stamps

Once the page is ready to print, I use acid free paper and mount the item(s) with archival quality corner mounts (the stamps have special mounts, but I'm not getting into that).  The entire page is housed in a mylar sleeve (also archival quality).  I take as much care as I am able to protect these pieces of history so they will not degrade and future caretakers can enjoy them and explore them just as I have.  It's part of the responsibility that comes with the pleasure I get in viewing and researching the items that come my way.

And remember, most of the things I enjoy are from the 1860s - well over 150 years old.

Shown above is a page that highlights the item featured in this Postal History Sunday.  Clearly, my display techniques have changed a bit over time.  But, it does beg the question "which comes first, the display page or the Postal History Sunday article?"  In this case, the page came first.  In the past couple of years, more and more items have gotten the honor of having the article prior to the display page.  In fact, I have many items awaiting the display page treatment despite their appearance in Postal History Sunday.  Either way, I like to do a certain amount of research on an item before I finalize an article or a page.

The challenge with making a display page after writing a Postal History Sunday is attempting to eliminate 95% (or more) of the detail so it will fit in limited space.  If I want to go from display page to article, nearly everything can be migrated.

Often, a display page has a purpose that goes beyond telling the story of a single cover.  The example shown above was simply intended to give examples of mail between Belgium and the United Kingdom in the period between 1857 and 1865. The information that applies to all items on the page is shown in the header.  Each cover has its own heading and a block of details that explain the travels it took.

Sometimes, I decide it is important to see postal markings on the verso (back).  In that case, I will take a scan of the back and print a reduced size version on the page.  If I don't have much space, I might simply show the portion of the back with a marking.  Either way, I resize the image until I like how things look (and I can clearly see the marking).  And, no, I don't reduce every item to the same percentage of their original size.  Sometimes, I actually increase the size of a feature so i can see it better.  It's all a question of looks good to me.

Here is a page that was created before a Postal History Sunday appeared to feature the covers shown.  Sometimes, the critical information to help understand what is going on can best be illustrated with a simple table.  

Part of the point of a display page is to impart information in the most clear and efficient way a person can manage.  Often, words are the least efficient medium, especially when space is limited.  So, I like to use maps, tables, headings and consistent lists of the markings and places a letter visited during its travels.  While I do like to have some freedom to make a page look good to me, I also like to have some consistency so I can quickly find and understand the details I uncovered as I researched each item. 

But things change some once I decide that my display pages are meant for an audience that is bigger than me.

Shown above is the second page of my exhibit titled "The Postal History of the 24 cent 1861 Adhesive."  This exhibit now contains 128 pages and people typically view the exhibit while standing because the exhibits are placed in A-frame displays in the exhibition area.  That means it is important to provide some consistency from page to page so a person can quickly figure out what is interesting about each and every item.  It is also important to arrange the pages in a way that makes sense and has a purpose.

To help viewers, I included the page above to explain how to find and interpret things on any individual page in the exhibit.  It's all about communication.  You want to give the viewer as many tools as you possibly can to help them succeed as they attempt to understand what you are trying to share.

The article titled Timing is Everything gives you the Postal History Sunday version of the exhibit page shown above.  It's a rare moment where both a table and a map show up in an effort to explain the travels of the folded letter being displayed on the page. 

The challenge is to make it possible for a person to walk up and decide to view any page anywhere in the exhibit and get something out of that page that interests them.  This is combined with the challenge that the entire exhibit has to hold together and make sense for the person who is looking for a logical progression from page to page.  Creating something that can be successfully viewed in order or piecemeal is difficult, but well worth the effort.

I will leave you with this last example of a display page.  Sometimes, if a topic area is new to me, I find myself working even harder to find ways to explain what is going with enough detail and breadth so I can come back to it later and re-learn what I have discovered before.

In this case, I included a map, so I could get a quick geographic picture of where this letter traveled.  A photo of the coastal steamer that likely carried this item adds some color.  The description at the bottom summarizes some of my learning for future use if I want it. 

There are markings from the verso (back) of the folded letter, including a brief explanation for one of them.  Two of the markings are not actual scans from the cover, instead they are enhanced tracings from other sources because the actual markings on the cover are smudged and incomplete.  Simply illustrating a poor example of a marking does nothing to help me learn to see what I am looking at.  But, if I compare the complete examples at the left with the actual markings on the cover (they are both there), I can train my eyes to see them in the future.

And there it is!  A brief look at how I go about making display pages for postal history items.  If you were looking for more postal history content this week, it's actually already here.  Click on the display page images and look at a larger version of each one.  You can then view maps, short descriptions and gather interesting information about each and every item!

Thank you for joining me this week.  I hope you have a great 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.

Guano Wars - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to this week's edition of Postal History Sunday!

It's been several weeks since I did a full introduction.  So, if you're new here or if you need a refresh, Postal History Sunday is written weekly - and hopefully not weakly - by Rob Faux (yep, that's me).  The first Postal History Sunday was offered in August of 2020, as part of my own effort to reach out to others who might be feeling the negative effects of the pandemic.  My intent then is the same as it is now.  I hope that I can share something I enjoy with you in such a way that you might be entertained whether you know a lot about postal history or you just happen to be passing through.  Perhaps you will be able to set your troubles aside for a few moments and maybe, just maybe, you'll learn something new!

And now, without further todo, let's look at a piece of postal history from the year 1868.  This item was mailed from Richmond, Maine, in the United States to Callao, Peru.

Richmond is located south of Augusta, Maine, on the Kennebec River.  For those of you who are vegetable growers, you might recognize the name "Kennebec" for the popular potato.  That potato variety was developed in Maine at the Presque Island USDA facilities and introduced in 1941.  This document from that time period discusses those facilities and their program (page 415).

I bring potatoes up because they, and other food plants, are grown on land where additional fertility is often needed to maintain crop production year after year in the same location.  The cover above actually has a connection and it will be interesting to see how I get to making that connection!

This envelope has two postage stamps, one represents 24 cents of postage and the other 10 cents.  The 34-cent rate per 1/2 ounce from the United States to Peru was in place from October of 1867 until February of 1870 and unlike many postage rates of the time, was actually an increase from the prior postage rate (22 cents).  

Letters to Peru from the US typically traveled by steamship to Panama, crossing the isthmus by land if the letter originated from a location east of the Rocky Mountains.  Once on the west coast of Panama, a steamship under British contract would carry mail destined for the west coast of South America.

At this time, ten cents of the total postage was kept by the United States to cover their costs, but they had to pass on 24 cents to the British - hence the red "24" at the bottom right.

The letter itself was intended for Zacheus Allen, who was apparently on board the ship America under the command of Captain Morse.   The directional docket instructs the postal service to put the letter into the hands of the US Consul in Callao so they could arrange to get the letter to Allen.  

This docket reads " Ship America, Capt Morse, care American Consul (ship loading at Chinci Islands)"

Zacheus Allen was on one of a large number of ships likely awaiting a load of guano from the Chincha Islands, a process that could be quite lengthy.  So, it is likely that the various consuls for different countries had a process for taking mail to bored sailors waiting for their ship's hull to be filled...

with poo.

Yes, you heard me correctly, these ships were waiting to be filled with old bird droppings that were going to be sold as fertility amendments elsewhere in the world (primarily North America and Europe).  And now you see the link between Kennebec potatoes and the topic at hand.  This is all about soil fertility.

Guano became big business

 

The Great Heap from Alexander Gardner's Rays of Sunlight from South America

Guano had long been used, in a careful and guarded fashion, for fertility supplements by the Incan empire for generations.  The Incans were fully aware that this resources was renewable as long as the seabird population was encouraged AND the lmited existing resources was not over-exploited.  Of course, European and North American agricultural systems tended to extract more from the soils, requiring various sources to replace fertility (nitrogen, phosphorous and potassium).  As a result, these ag systems had an almost insatiable need for products that could deliver that fertility.

Alexander von Humboldt, during his travels in South America, became aware of the use of guano and took samples back to Europe with him in 1804.  Scientific analysis of the day confirmed its value.  And thus began a process of extraction and export that would last for decades on the Chincha Islands - where the supply would run out in the late 1860s and early 1870s.

If this topic interests you, you could get a nice summary here at the Atlas Obscura by Cara Giaimo.  Or, if you want an in depth work on the topic, Gregory T Cushman's book titled Guano and the Opening of the Pacific World seems like a good place to go.

Ships awaiting guano at Chincha Islands 1865, from Gardner book

The largest of the Chincha Islands had guano that reached depths of 200 feet, which can be seen by looking at the first photo of the "Great Heap."  Workers, some free laborers and others indentured, would use pick-axes, shovels and carts to mine the substance.  A fine article by W.M. Mathew titled "A Primitive Export Sector: Guano Production in Mid-nineteenth Century Peru," describes the effort of extraction, movement and loading as dirty, slow, difficult, and inefficient work.  Significant amounts of guano was lost into the ocean during the loading process and in dust that filled the air.

"When the loading started, all inside doors and windows [of the ship] were closed and tightly covered with canvas to prevent the toxic dust from filling a ship’s crew spaces. Loading crews were limited to twenty-minute shifts in the cargo holds, and the rest of the crew climbed to the tops of the masts to breathe fresh air." - from this Smithsonian source titled the Guano Trade.

According to the work by W.M. Mathew, there was one report that stated as many as 160 ships were awaiting loading at one point in 1869, and this was at a point when the supply of guano on the Chincha Islands was dwindling.  The same source suggested that this meant there were 4000 people on board those ships - all waiting for a load of bird manure.

I think you can now get an idea as to how valuable a letter from home - and an American Consul office that would arrange to deliver that letter - could have been.

Guano mining from the Gardner book.  1865.

Enough to fight for?

Battle of Callao from wikimedia commons

The value of seabird excrement was such that the Spanish actually attempted to use the Chincha Islands as a bargaining chip, since guano production produced a significant amount of the Peruvian government's revenue.  Spain occupied the islands with 400 marines on April 14, 1864 and proceeded with a blockade of major ports in Peru (including Callao).

Peruvian and Chilean forces (and later some help from Ecuador and Bolivia) eventually forced Spain's withdrawal (by 1866).  This would not be the end of hostilities that had to do with the extraction of materials for fertilizer.   The War of the Pacific (1879) between Chile, Bolivia and Peru was at least partly due to a desire to control both guano and saltpeter deposits.

Saltpeter - staying in the fertilizer game

Let's go back to an envelope I featured in an earlier Postal History Sunday for a couple of interesting tidbits that you might enjoy!

This envelope was sent from New London, Connecticut to Valparaiso, Chile, in 1867.  The recipient was a Captain Hinckley and his ship must have been the barque "Fannie."  His mail was sent to Messrs Alsop & Co, which was a common location for United States ship captains or US citizens to have their mail sent if they were visiting Chile.

Foreign mail to Chile could only be pre-paid to the point of entry into the country.  Chile charged an incoming foreign mail fee equivalent to 5 centavos (July 1853 to December 29, 1874).  In addition to the incoming mail fee, incoming mail required two times the domestic internal rate (10 centavos) for a total charge of 25 centavos collected from the recipient at the point of delivery.

This letter was initially sent to Alsop & Co in Valparaiso, but they sent that letter on to W.E. Billinghurst in Iquique, which was in Peru at the time this letter was sent (1867).  We can assume this letter caught up to Capt Hinckley there since there doesn't appear to any more travels recorded on this envelope.  

Mr. Billinghurst was listed as a shipping agent for Lloyd's in Iquique during the 1860s and was, like many who worked as a shipping agent, also the representative for many other concerns. Anyone involved in trade, especially of Chilean saltpeter or guano, had likely heard of him.  So, it might not be surprising to hear that his demise in the 1868 earthquake was specifically noted in newspapers throughout the world.

Iquique, despite being located in a desert region, was a port of prominence because that desert had strong deposits of sodium nitrate (Chilean saltpeter) - used for fertilizers.  With the guano deposits rapidly being depleted, attention was shifting southward to the Atacama desert - and to Iquique - as the primary port of departure for ships laden with Chilean saltpeter as a fertilizer product.  In 1867, nearly 116,000 tons of saltpeter were exported by Peru. This amount declined the following year, likely due, in part, to the 1868 earthquakes.

Iquique 1865 by Mariano Felipe Paz Soldan from wikimedia commons

 And then, there was always bone meal

This envelope was first featured in a Postal History Sunday titled  Poo d'Etat

The postage stamp is a 2 cent denomination from the 1869 US issue and it pays the rate for items that were classified as a "circular."  The rate for this class of mail was effective from 1863 to 1872 and allowed the sender to put up to three copies of the circular into one cover (envelope or wrapper of some sort).  To qualify, the contents could only be printed matter (with no written personal messages placed in addition to the printed matter).  The envelope also needed to be left unsealed so the postal clerks could inspect the item to be sure it met regulations.

I recognize that some people are a little squeamish with the idea of using ground up animal bones as a soil supplement, but you need to consider the relative resource efficiency of using bone meal versus other sources of phosphorous.  Most farms included animals in their operations, some of which were raised for meat.  Rather than simply discarding the bones, they could be used by being ground up and placed back into the soil so the cycle of life could continue.  The goal of companies like this was to make the bone meal "soluble" so it be more readily available for uptake by plant roots.

This company directly compares their product to the Peruvian guano and, of course, makes a case that their product would be better.  In particular, they cite a much more favorable price than the expensive guano being shipped from South America.  

And now you know, manure was, and is, big business.  And I just got you to read all about it in today's Postal History Sunday!  No wonder I enjoy writing these posts.

A short bonus material section

Zacheus Allen, the recipient of our first letter and sailor, at the time, on the ship America, actually turned up with a little searching in a strange place.  He ran into a spot of trouble as the First Officer on the Matterhorn during a trip from Cardiff (Wales) to Callao a year or two after his time waiting for a load of Guano in 1868.

This document Criminal Case Files : 1863-1917 includes charges against Allen that were of a serious nature.   The case is summarized there as follows:

"Indictment for beating, wounding, assaulting and for cruel and unusual punishment and for the murder of Moses Blake, mariner, using a four foot capstan and a pistol and then beat him up"

There was apparently a case for self-defense that even led to a letter to then President U.S. Grant.

from the Papers of U.S. Grant, Vol 20, Nov 1, 1869 - Oct 31, 1870

You might notice that the US Consul for Peru was involved in this situation as well.  Williamson had taken the post earlier in 1870, so was not the same person who was in charge of the consulate at the time Allen received the letter we show at the beginning.

The case results are also from the Criminal Case File document:

Detailed description of the assault and the testimony; Consolidated with cases 504 & 505; 31 Nov 1870 Verdict not guilty for case 503; nolle prosequi for case 504; guilty of beating Moses Blake for case 505, fined $10 and discharged; Case 506 murder - separate, 3 Nov 1870 ordered nolle prosequi

For those who do not know (and that included me until a few minutes ago) nolle prosequi is

 a formal notice of abandonment by a plaintiff or prosecutor of all or part of a suit or action.  So, Zacheus Allen was only found guilty of beating Moses Blake and had to pay $10 for the crime.  Was it because Mr. Allen truly was defending himself?  Was it because he had friends who could get the ear of the President of the United States?

It sounds like an interesting story.  Maybe we'll hunt that one down some day.

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Thank you for joining me for Postal History Sunday.  I hope you enjoyed reading this and that, perhaps, you learned something interesting and new to you.

Have a great remainder of the day and a fine week to come.

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.

Trans-Atlantic - Postal History Sunday

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

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

Mail between the United States and the United Kingdom

One of the areas of postal history I enjoy very much would be mail that crossed the Atlantic Ocean in the 1860s.  As many of you know (and the rest of you will soon know), I have been focusing on mail featuring the 24 cent stamps issued by the United States from 1861-1868.  Below is an example of the type of mail that catches my interest.

This is an 1862 letter from Boston (United States) to London (England).  The Boston postmark indicates to me that the letter was put in a mailbag which was then placed on the Cunard Line's Asia that departed Boston on August 6 so it could cross the Atlantic Ocean.  The Asia arrived at Queenstown (Cork, Ireland - also known as Cobh) on August 16 where the mailbag was offloaded.  A train took this bag of mail to Kingston (now known as Dún Laoghaire) where it would board a steamer to cross the Irish Sea to Holyhead.   From there, it would ride in another train to London.

Finally, the letter was removed from the bag and given an August 18 postmark to record its official arrival at the English exchange office in London. 

This is the mail service this postage stamp was primarily intended to be used for.  The United States and the United Kingdom agreed in 1848 that a letter weighing no more than 1/2 ounce could travel from the US to the UK for 24 cents.  This rate was effective from February 1849 until the end of December of 1867, so it would be tempting to think that these stamps were available for that entire period of time.

Interestingly enough, the first time a stamp with the 24 cent denomination was issued was 1860!  Until then, a person would have to apply two 12-cent stamps (or some other combination of stamps) to pay the postage.  From 1851 to 1859, you could buy stamps with 1-cent, 3-cent, 5-cent, 10-cent and 12-cent denominations.  In 1860, the United States added the 24-cent, 30-cent, and 90-cent denominations in response to the growing use of mail to foreign destinations.

This stamp is part of the series of postage stamps introduced in August of 1861.  The new stamps were issued in response to the secession of the southern states.  But that, as they say, is another story (and possibly another Postal History Sunday).

Now - because I want to - we should take a look at a letter that came back the other way (from the United Kingdom to the United States).

This thick folded letter has a dateline of August 24, 1867 and a Liverpool postmark on the back.  The New York marking on the front is dated September 4th.  And, the docket at the top left reads: paid Per "Persia" via Cork.

*** A Quick Reminder - We All Start Somewhere ***

Now - as a bit of an aside - when I first started looking at some of these letters from this period, I was confused by these dockets that said things like "Per Persia."  Not knowing much about Atlantic shipping at the time and the convention of dockets on mail, I would see the word "Persia" and think - "Wow!  This thing went to Persia!  Ummm.  But, why would it go from Liverpool to Persia and then Houston, Texas.  Hmmmm?"

Of course, once I figured out that many ships were named after places, it made more sense.  

I just want to remind all of us that it is ok to be confused by something that is new to you and it is fine to ask questions.  Why?  Because it means we have an opportunity to learn something that is new to us!  And learning is always cool - even if it is difficult, embarrassing, or inconvenient.

*** Back to the regularly scheduled program ***   

The Cunard Line's Persia did leave Liverpool on August 24 and arrived at Cork August 25.  Because the date is not readable on the Liverpool postmark, I can't say for certain that this letter boarded the ship at Liverpool or if it was sent by train to Holyhead, crossed the Irish Sea to Kingston and then by train to Cork just to catch the ship there.  The speedy trains could very well get a letter to Cork prior to the ships departure to cross the Atlantic Ocean.

Either way, it did take the Persia to New York, where it did arrive on September 4.

The postage was paid by two stamps, a one shilling and a two shilling, with a total of three shillings in postage paid.  The same agreement that set the postage rate at 24 cents for the United States to the United Kingdom required one shilling for the 1/2 ounce.  So, this letter must have weighed over one ounce and no more than 1 and 1/2 ounces.  In other words, this was a triple weight (or triple rate) letter.

There is certainly more to tell about this letter to Houston, Texas and that can be viewed at the Postal History Sunday entry titled Triple Threat. 

Of course, there is more than one country across the "Pond," so let's try another one!

Mail Between the United States and France

The United States did not have an agreement for mail with France until April of 1857.  This agreement set the rate of postage at 15 cents for every 1/4 ounce of mail and continued until the end of 1869.  However, there was no 15-cent stamp to pay for this rate until 1866, when a stamp was issued in memory of Abraham Lincoln after his assassination in April of 1865.

Until that time, a letter to France would most typically be paid by a combination of a five-cent and ten-cent stamp.  But, the example I am showing you today has a 15-cent Lincoln mourning stamp on it to pay the postage.

The letter above was mailed from New York and set sail on the Cunard Line's Tripoli on March 18, 1869.  

As an aside - if you sometimes wonder about what attracted me to this specific item, you might enjoy knowing that our farm is near Tripoli, Iowa, which is NOT the location this ship was named after.  I suspect the ship was named after the city in Libya since Tripoli, Iowa had yet to reach 100 inhabitants by 1880.  Meanwhile, the United States had already fought Barbary pirates at Tripoli, Libya, in the early 1800s.  So, I suspect Tripoli, Iowa, might not have the same clout for naming rights.

The Tripoli arrived in Queenstown, Ireland on March 30 and the mailbag entered France at Calais on April 1st.  

A postal historian actually gets more than one opportunity to find out more about a cover between the US and France because both countries provide some clues with their markings.  This is important because not every old letter has clear markings.  Sometimes they are smudged or inked lightly and you can't read all of the information.

This blue French marking tells me several things.  First, the letter came from the United States (Et.-Unis).  Second, it came on a steamship that was under contract with the US (Serv. Am.).  Third, the letter was taken on the train from Calais to Paris and this served as the French exchange office for the US mailbag this letter traveled in (Calais).  The simple fact that it entered France in Calais suggests it went via Queenstown (Ireland) or Southampton (near London).  This, and the date, can help confirm which ship carried the letter across the Atlantic.

That's a lot of information in one postal marking.

And now for a letter coming back the other way from Bordeaux (France) to New Orleans (US).

The rate for mail from France to the US was 80 centimes for every 7.5 grams.  The letter above has an 80 centime stamp that pays the postage for this letter.  The letter boarded a train from Bordeaux to Paris on November 16, 1859, then traveled on the train from Paris to Calais the next day.

The instructions given on this letter state that it was to go "by the first steamer from Liverpool."  I don't think you can get more explicit than that!  And, to no one's surprise, the letter left on Cunard Line's Europa from Liverpool on November 19th and the rest is history.   The Europa actually arrived at Boston late on the 1st of March and the letter was processed on March 2nd.

This handstamp found in the middle of this cover reads "Br. Service,"  which indicated the letter traveled on a steamship that was under contract with the British.  This is a hint to me, as a postal historian, that I should be checking for Cunard Line or Galway Line sailings if I want to figure out how the letter crossed the Atlantic. 

from France to US

from US to France

The Boston marking for this cover tells us the equivalent to 15 cents was paid in France.  There are NO clues as to which shipping line might have carried this letter.

The New York marking from the previous cover gives us the number "6," which tells us that six cents were due to the French postal service and nine cents were kept by the US.  This included the money needed to pay for the Atlantic crossing, so that gives me a clue regarding possible shipping lines based on that information.  It would have to be a shipping line under contract with the United States.  

Now - if you are paying attention - you will have noticed that the Cunard Line carried BOTH letters (remember that Tripoli thing?).  What's up with that?

It is true.  The Cunard Line was under contract with the British to carry the mail across the Atlantic for the entirety of the postal agreement from 1848 until 1867 between the United Kingdom and the United States.  However, when a NEW agreement was reached to begin on January 1, 1868, things changed.  And the letter that was carried on the Tripoli was mailed in 1869.

As of 1868, for a letter that was leaving the US for the UK, the Cunard Line was sailing under a US contract.  If the letter was leaving the UK for the US, the Cunard Line was sailing under a UK contract.

Ain't postal history grand?!?  Just move a few years forwards or backwards and everything you think you know changes!   Well, ok.  Not everything.  But, you do have to pay attention because you shouldn't assume the processes for mail carriage have always stayed the same.

Mail To and From the Papal State

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

Don't let the cities of Isoletta and Napoli confuse on this map.  This is a map I created for another purpose and it was good enough to illustrate my point.  Yes, sometimes I run out of time and I have to make due.  It's a weekly blog, things like this happen sometimes.

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

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

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

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

The treaty between France and the United States (established in 1857) included instructions for mail that France was to serve as an intermediary.  Article VIII of the postal treaty between these two nations mentions that each country would carry mail and pass it on to other postal services beyond their borders (if you wish to see the actual text of the treaty, it is here).  This would allow the sender to prepay the entire required postage to get between the US and Rome.

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

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

Wait a second....  who said anything about the United Kingdom getting involved in this?

Ok, you got me.  I did not mention to you that the US - French agreement included language that allowed mail to be sent via the UK, sometimes using Atlantic steamers under contract with the British.  

This is a great example of how services agreed upon under one postal treaty had the potential to be accessed via another treaty.  The French had an agreement with the British.  The United States also had an agreement with the British.  When the US and France created their postal convention, they could use those agreements to allow mail to go via the UK.  Similarly, the agreement France made with the Papal States allowed access to the United States, which, in turn, allowed access to the British system.

Got all that?  No?  That's ok, sometimes you just have to accept things as a matter of faith.

Back to the letter in question...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Thank you for joining me for Postal History Sunday.  I hope you enjoyed reading this and that, perhaps, you learned something interesting and new to you.

Have a great remainder of the day and a fine week to come.

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.