Sunday, December 3, 2023

A Little Help Goes A Long Way - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to this week's Postal History Sunday!  As we enter the final month of the year I am forced, once again, to reconcile myself to some of the realities of the academic year.  Those of you who have connections to schools, colleges or universities can probably relate to this.  While I am no longer directly involved, my lovely bride is.  As a result, I get to live the life of the school cycle vicariously!

To put it succinctly, December typically goes by in a blur.

And so, this week, I am going to focus on some of the aid I have received from many other people as I seek to learn more about postal history.  For those of you who do not do much with postal history, it might be interesting for you to learn that there is a community of people who enjoy this subject.  That community is often very willing to share information and knowledge.  And, if you are involved in postal history, you are already aware of that community, or if you aren't, I should encourage you to participate!

As I started to gather material for this article, I realized I was going to have more than I could reasonably manage to put into one blog.  So, I am going to focus on items where I received some help from the members of the Facebook Postal History - Covers and Stationery group, started in 2017 by Manny Brautigam and Mark Goodwin.  I suspect a future PHS or two will feature other forums.

Pretty Covers Deserve Good Descriptions


The folded letter sheet shown above was mailed in Hannover (Hanover) on Jun 27, 1854 and was destined for Leipzig, in Saxony. Hannover was the major city in the Kingdom of Hannover at the time.  This German State comprised most of northwest Germany, bordered by the Netherlands, the North Sea and the River Elbe.  The Kingdom of Saxony was located southeast of Hannover and travel through other German States was required to get the letter from one place to the other.
 
Hannover was a member of the German-Austrian Postal Union (GAPU), which had a collective postal agreement that set rates based on a combination of distance and weight.  This particular letter was a simple letter weighing no more than one Zollvereins-Loth (zolloth) which was equivalent to 16 2/3 grams. The cost was 3 silbergroschen for a distance over 20 meilen (3 silbergroschen was equal to 1/10 thaler in Hannover).

Isn't it fun when we use a whole bunch of monetary, weight and distance units that many of us are not immediately familiar with?!  No?  Ok.  Let's just say this simple letter was properly paid to get from Hannover to Leipzig and move on.
 
The letter is sent from one cousin in Hannover to the other in Leipzig, and this is where I got some interesting information from Ralf Reinhold.  He points out that the address includes this description «Piano-Forte Fabrik des Herrn Irmler in Leipzig».
 
1850 Ernst Irmler & Sons piano from Antique Piano Shop

Apparently, cousin Eisenbrandt worked for a well-known piano maker.  It appears that the Irmler piano business is still active, and Ernst Imler had a separate pianoforte business at the time.  He was a close relative of the Irmlers that founded the company that still operates today.  I am not sure if I can distinguish whether this individual worked for one Irmler or the other.

The name "pianoforte" is a combination of Italian for, essentially, "soft and loud."  Musicians among you will recognize the purpose of each, indicating the amount of volume you should achieve with your playing.  Also known as a fortepiano, these were invented around 1700 as an improvement over other keyed instruments (harpsichord) that had no volume control.  By the 1830s, the design had evolved to approximate the modern piano, but the use of "pianoforte" or "fortepiano" to describe the instrument was still common in 1854.


While Ralf did not do the pianoforte research, he provided me with the impetus to do some of my own now that I knew what some of the words in the address panel were.  Ralf also provided clarification for the docket at the left. «Es wird um eilige Besorgung gebeten.» = "It is asked for the most urgent delivery."
 
It's not uncommon to find letters during the mid-1800s that include similar dockets that attempt to urge the postal services onto greater speed in their duties.  Of course, it probably made little to no difference - but that still didn't stop people from trying.  Personally, I suspect many employees of postal services over the years would prefer that we all wrote clear addresses and paid proper postage to encourage the speed of delivery.
 
Sometimes It's Nice to Stop Glossing Over Details
 

Here's a nice cover from the United Kingdom, in 1860, to the United States.  My personal knowledge is very strong when we consider letters that go from the US to the UK and it's pretty good when things go the other way.

As an example, I can tell you that the postage rate was 1 shilling for a simple letter weighing no more than 1/2 ounce in weight.  The green stamp on the right pays that part of the required postage.  The red stamp paid for a one penny (1 d) late fee.  The "Paid" marking told postmasters in the New York that the item was considered paid in full to the destination and the "5 cents" markings illustrated that the equivalent of 5 US cents were to be passed to the United States Post Office to pay for their share of the expenses.

I can even tell you, without looking it up, that the letter was sent on a Cunard Line ship under British contract - probably the Arabia.  But, I often say little or nothing about this:

Colin Hanson was nice enough to point out that this was an "Inspector's mark" that was placed there to indicate that the letter had been checked for weight.  And, indeed, this folded letter has a little heft to it.  If I worked for the post office at that time, I might have wondered if it weighed a bit more than 1/2 ounce.  However, it did not and the inspector said it was good to go and put a "paid" marking on the letter.

Colin also added that the lone marking on the back, dated November 17, 1860, confirms that this letter was sent on the evening despatch from the post office.  This confirms for us that a 1 cent late fee was required to get this letter on its way.  Colin suggested this resource for persons who might like to learn more about these late fees and Ian Gibbons chimed in with this short write-up for those who might like to view a mini-exhibit of this sort of material.

And, speaking of things that were late, Stephen Teuma was kind enough to point out that the square London marking on the back of this folded letter signified that the letter was "too late" for the last mail of the day.

There are actually two possibilities here.  First, it is possible the letter was received at the post office after the train or carriage had physically left with the mail.  Or, it is possible that this person was unwilling to pay a late fee for the privilege of having the postal clerk make an exception and prepare the letter for travel even though the mail window had closed.  

And yes, this topic is enough fun that I am sure there will be a future Postal History Sunday dedicated to it.

A Couple of Useful Resources

Postal history and philately (stamp collecting) are topic areas that are blessed with all sorts of resource material, including articles and books by others who also love these subjects. 

Here is a resource that I have used on and off to help me read some of the older hand-writing I come across.  Of course, it doesn't always result in understanding all of the scribbles and scrawls, but it certainly can give a person a start.  Someone, I no longer remember who, shared this in a forum for all to use.  So, I share it again here - with the attribution that came with the image.

Yes, I know this one is not directly connected to the Facebook group.  But, I'll share it there later so there is a connection.

Then, there is the possibility that someone will introduce you to a tool that might be useful for future research.  Manny Brautigam mentioned the yandex translation tool.  It will take an image and attempt to translate it for you.  Manny illustrated how it worked with this image, written in French:

 

The result, if you care to view it, is shown below.  Of course, it is far from perfect.  Some of the content is not successfully translated and some of the content should not have been translated.  Most of the text under the line is a list of town names.  Translating them doesn't help.  For example, Trelon becomes "very-lon." 

Still, it never hurts to have more tools in the tool box - and this one is pretty good.  I am grateful for Manny's suggestion!  But, it's even better if you have some skills of your own to supplement their effectiveness so you can recognize where they fall short.

Yandex appears to work fairly well for documents with printed language, but it isn't made to handle handwriting.  I believe there are tools in development that can work with those sorts of images but I am not personally aware of them at this moment.

Translate this

 

Sometimes it's just nice to know someone who can not only read a different language, but they also have some knowledge of postal history.  After all, it's one thing to give a literal translation and it's quite another to give one that understands the context of what is going on (and what the person who is asking for the translation wants to know).

Kenneth Bryson has often helped when there are questions about Japanese postal history items.  With his help, I was able to confirm that this is a registered letter (note the red marking at top left).  In his words, this is what we are seeing:

The Old Koban 8-sen stamp pays the 2 sen regular rate plus the 6 sen registration fee. It has a large Osaka "Bota" cancellation and a double-circle datestamp of the Shimanouchi branch post office in Osaka, dated in accordance with 20 July 1886. The addressee is a person in Shimagami town, Hyogo district (presently Kobe city).

 Kenneth also kindly reminded me that the correct orientation to read this letter is as shown above, but when it comes to the limitations of blog layouts, I still find myself showing you the back of the cover this way.

Kenneth was also willing to give information for the writing and markings on the back.

The black handstamps identify a business in Osaka. The circular datestamp is the Kobe office receiver showing that it arrived in Kobe in the afternoon on 20 July.

At some point in my life, I had read something about the red marking indicating registration.  At some other point in my life, I became aware of the 6 sen registration fee.  But, of course, I couldn't even begin to be sure if those were pieces of real knowledge or just something I made up.  It's moments like that when you are reminded that the social side of philately can save you from foolishly assuming you know something you don't!

It never hurts to have a different perspective

Shown above is an item that I have pretty well "surrounded" when it comes to my own personal understanding.  In fact, you can find a pretty good explanation here.  The short explanation is that this 1864 has 12 cuartos in postage to pay for a simple letter from Spain to France.  The French, in retaliation for a similar Spanish charge on letters from France, charged an additional 5 centimes from the recipient of the letter.

Ralf Reinhold chimed in again with this explanation:

This 5 centimes "droit de factage" had the following meaning: Between 2 February 1860 and 15 July 1869, letters from Spain to France were subject to an additional charge of 5 centimes, which the recipient had to pay. The background was that, despite the Spanish-French postal treaty of 1859 (in force since 2.2.1860), a delivery charge of 1 cuarto per letter continued to be payable to the deliverer in Spain for incoming mail from France (derecho de cartero). Therefore, France charged all letters from Spain with a corresponding "droit de factage" of 5 centimes, which was shown both in handwriting and by means of this special 5 c tax stamp. When the delivery charge of 1 cuarto for letters from abroad was abolished in Spain on July 2, 1869, France also cancelled its delivery charge again as of July 15, 1869.

Sometimes, when I write a Postal History Sunday, I do purposely leave out some details to keep the story accessible to as many readers as possible.  But, it is possible that this might leave out details that are both interesting and, possibly, critical.  It's very difficult to do better than this short description provided by Ralf - so I thought I'd share it here.

Outside Expertise


I've said it before and I'll say it again - postal history is a huge topic and it isn't hard to find yourself outside of your comfort zone.  That may be the best reason why it helps to be prepared to listen to others when they offer their own expertise.

This letter is definitely outside of my normal comfort zone.  But, it's not as if I can't figure some of it out.

This letter was sent from South Africa in 1935 and the postage stamps did not properly prepay the postage required for it to be sent to the United States. The T "Taxe" marking at the right of the envelope was the international method to pass on recognition that postage (taxe) was due.  The 2 cent US postage due stamp shows payment of that postage in US currency. 

According to the Universal Postal Union (UPU), rates were based off of French currency and then converted to local currency. So, the "T 10 c" refers to 10 French centimes. One US cent was equal to five French centimes. So, 2 US cents were due from the recipient to pay for this letter on arrival.

What I did not know was the postage rate required for a person in South Africa to fully prepay a letter.  Andrew Massyn filled in that gap in knowledge, telling me that the rate was 3d (3 pence) to other UPU countries.  Only 2 pence in postage was paid, so the 1 penny difference is doubled as a penalty for the underpayment.

At this point, it is tempting to grumble about how unfair it is to charge extra for what was likely an honest mistake.  But, once you consider how much more labor was required to determine and then collect short paid or unpaid amounts, it becomes clear why this practice was followed.

Then there's this item that I've written about in the past. This letter that was sent from Brussels, Belgium to Bordeaux, France, in 1845.  My write-up in the prior Postal History Sunday is accurate and pretty well done.  But, Gregg Redner offered his detailed knowledge on Belgian postal history to point out that the green "B.3.R." marking is an indication that the letter traveled on the railroad through Mons, Belgium.

This is a good reminder that postal markings during the 1850s, 60s and 70s often have meanings that are not immediately apparent unless you have in depth knowledge about them.  There are so many markings over so much time for so many places that no one person is going to remember them all.

Then there is this interesting item that has appeared now and again in this blog.  Gary Douglas recognized the font of the text on this tiny envelope and shared that there were typewriters that printed in capital letters only.  

Persons with expertise in typewriters can figure out what sort of typewriter was used based on some of the characters and how they are represented.  Gary suggested that we take note of the letters "O" and "R", as well as the number "8."  You will see gaps or slots in those characters that run vertically, which can help us determine the type of machine.

Image Gary Douglas

Gary purchased a typewriter with slots that run horizontally for these characters from a railroad museum.  The keyboard can be seen above. But it is is not hard to imagine a typewriter that looks fairly similar to this one being used to put the mailing address on each envelope.  It certainly helps to solve the problem with poor handwriting on the address panel of a cover.

And, Paul Davey, provided a bit more depth to this large envelope mailed from the US to China in the 1930s.  According to Paul, the Brayton Meyer, Standard Vacuum Oil Company received a significant amount of mail that is now in collectors' hands.  The company is a predecessor to ExxonMobil.

This is a good reminder that postal historians have gained much knowledge from correspondences to a relative few number of businesses that kept material over a period of time.  These collections of postal materials provide opportunities to search for patterns as to how mail was handled, allowing us to understand what was normal - and what was exceptional.

In part, because of this correspondence, we know that the piece of torn paper adhered to the back of the envelope is normal for a piece of registered mail. This matches up nicely with an overweight letter requiring 17 cents of postage for the cost of a piece of letter mail plus the 15 cent registration fee.

And there you are, just a few examples of the ways connections to other postal historians can help build the depth of understanding one person has.  As always, I am grateful to these people, and many others, who have willingly shared their knowledge and opinions about postal history and all the subject material that each item can connect to.  

I hope you were entertained as we explored everything from markings on late mail to typewriters, pianos and handwriting.  And even if you weren't entertained, maybe you learned something new.  Either way, I'll count that as a win!  Have a great day and 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.

Sunday, November 26, 2023

More to Say - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the first Postal History Sunday after Thanksgiving 2024.  The American Thanksgiving holiday has been, and continues to be, an important one to me.  It reminds me to exercise my gratitude muscles in all things that I do, including the postal history hobby.  So, let me take a moment and thank everyone who has taken a moment to read and enjoy Postal History Sunday, it is a privilege to be able to share what I can with you.

I am also grateful for those who have provided feedback to me.  I received kind appreciation for my efforts while I attended Chicagopex last week.  And, every so often, someone will leave a comment on the blog, or in social media, or in an email providing encouragement, additional information, and positive criticism.  All of this helps me to feel the effort has value. 

This week, we're going to provide more information about some recent Postal History Sundays.  It never seems to fail - after I complete an entry and put it out "into the wild" for everyone to read, I discover something else that might have been good to include.  Well, is this my blog or not?  Since it is, I can certainly take the time to do a PHS entry that shares some of these things with you!

A Subtle Difference

On November 12th, Postal History Sunday featured letters mailed from the United States to Switzerland during the 1860s.  The topic was certainly big enough that it made sense to gloss over a detail or three just so the main points weren't obscured.  

But, there was one omission I felt sure that someone would bring to my attention. Then, much to my surprise, no one did.

35- cent per 1/2 rate via Prussian Closed Mail - to Andelfingen, Switzerland

So, let me show two letters a bit closer together.  The first letter was mailed on April 27, 1863, just days before the postal rate was going to change to 33 cents.  In fact, by the time it arrived in Aachen on May 12, the rate had changed.

33-cent per 1/2 ounce rate via Prussian Closed Mail - to Ambri, Switzerland

And this letter was mailed on July 30, 1866, arriving at its destination by mid-August.  It is interesting to note that this letter was mailed just after the final battle of the Seven-Weeks War (Austro-Prussian War) on July 24 in the Grand Duchy of Baden.

And now I am going to ask the question I thought someone else might have asked:

What's going on here?
1863 Cover to Andelfingen
1866 Cover to Ambri

These markings are called weiterfranco markings and they were used by members of the German-Austrian Postal Union (GAPU) to indicate that a certain amount of postage was to be "passed forward" to the next postal service.  In both cases, the postage was fully paid by the person who sent the letter in the United States.  The US sent 12 cents to Prussia to cover the expenses Prussia was responsible for.  That included the amount of postage that was due to Switzerland!

So, these weiterfranco amounts represented the amount of postage, in German currency, that was supposed to be handed over to Switzerland for each letter.  The kicker here is that the amounts for each letter is different.

The first letter has markings that read "f1" and "3"

The second letter has markings that read "f2" and "6"

The first thing we need to know about these is that the members of GAPU used two different currencies.  The Prussians and northern states would be passing silbergroschen and they would include the "f" before the amount to indicate it was a weiterFranco (paid amount forwarded).  So, the "f1" and "f2" would indicate 1 silbergroschen and 2 silbergroschen.  These markings were applied at the Aachen exchange office in Prussia.

The southern states used kruezer (3 kruezer for every 1 silbergroschen).  So, the corresponding "3" and "6" refer to kruezers and were applied in Baden - likely on the train that carried the mail. 

So, the first cover, mailed in 1863 at the 35 cents rate, was paid in full.  The Prussians passed 1 silbergroschen on to Baden and then Baden passed the equivalent 3 kruezer on to Switzerland.  The second cover, mailed in 1866, was mailed at the 33 cents rate and was alos paid in full.  The Prussians passed 2 silbergroschen to Baden, which then passed 6 kruezer to the Swiss.

So, now the questions is... why?

The answer lies with the destination for each cover within Switzerland.  At the time, Switzerland still had a distance component to their postal rates.  In their agreement with the GAPU, there were two rayons (or regions).  The amount of postage due to Switzerland was based on a rate of 1 silbergroschen (or 3 kruezer) per rayon for a simple letter.  Our second letter was in the second rayon, so it required more postage to be paid to Switzerland.

If you would like to learn more about this, this Postal History Sunday looks more carefully at mail between Switzerland and the GAPU.

And, for those that are curious - the rate people in the United States paid to send a letter to Switzerland via the Prussian Closed Mails did NOT change, even if the letter went to the second rayon of Switzerland.  This was simply how Switzerland and the GAPU accounted for letters exchanged between them.

More Humbuggery

On October 15th, I got to have some fun and write a bit about Humbugs and Dead Letter Mail.  This 1865 letter was sent to the Dead Letter Office as either an "unclaimed" or an "unmailable" item.  But, the postmaster wrote the word "Humbug" at the left.  They were apparently aware that James E Dunnell was working some sort of scam that encouraged people to depart with their money.

In this case, the amount was $10.

I surmised that this might have been a lottery scam.  But, guess what I found soon after writing that article?  

This letter - which, unfortunately, does not have a corresponding cover (envelope or wrapper). It is a lithographed circular that is promoting a lottery with an entry fee of....  ten dollars.

This letter is from the "Office of Thos Boult & Co" who professed to be General Lottery Agents.  In fact, they claimed to be "Licensed" by the government.  And, even better for me and my story - this letter is dated March 21st, 1865.  While it is certainly not directly related to my "Humbug" envelope, it is direct evidence showing that the lottery scams were quite active at that time.

The letter opens by recognizing that most states had laws against lotteries:

"Dear Sir, From what we can learn of Public Sentiment in your State, we are satisfied that there is among your People, a strong prejudice against dealing in Lotteries and feeling that this want of Confidence, cannot be removed until some person draws a good Prize."

Of course, like any "good" scam letter, they make certain to underline the last part to get the mark's attention.  The idea being proposed is that the recipient can trust them to represent them for a lottery (thus getting around the law).

"... we offer you the chance of a Handsome Prize in a Certificate of a Package of Sixteenths of Tickets on the Grand Havana Plan Lottery to be drawn ... on the 30th day of April 1865."

Thus far, the letter has not quite gone so far as to promise a positive result.  However, they do go on to illustrate how much there is to gain - with so little to lose.

"... no deception lies concealed under this communication; now as our object is to increase our Business among your Citizens; by putting you in the possession of a Handsome Prize; we offer you the above described Certificate with however this understanding that after we send you the money it draws, you are to inform your friends and acquaintances that you have drawn a Prize at our Office."
Of course, the saying "thou doth protest too much" comes to mind.  No, no!  Of course, we don't intend to take your money and run.  We just want to take your FRIENDS' money and run. 

Now, they still won't promise that the mark is guaranteed a win, but...

"... if the Certificate does not draw you net at least $6000 we will send you another Certificate in one of our ever Lucky Extra Lotteries for nothing you perceive that you now have an opportunity to acquire a Handsome Prize; that may never again present itself; Improve it before it is too late, by sending your Order immediately..."

This letter seems to have everything.  It tells us that we shouldn't delay and it even has it's "but wait, there's more!" moment.  They'll send you another chance at a special lottery for free.  It's a two for the price of one deal!  And, of course, by the use of capital letters where they don't exactly belong and some judicious underlining they do a fine job of pointing us to the main issues of concern.

"To facilitate the prompt execution of our proposal use the enclosed envelope and make your remittance to our Office... Wafer or Seal your letter so that it will not come open in the Mails.  Please consider this letter Strictly Private and Confidential, and send your order without delay"
So, we come to the bottom of the letter.  The very same people that are hoping to improve their business by having more people participate are now attempting to tell the mark that this correspondence is a secret.

And how much was the cost to enter to have the opportunity for a "Handsome Prize?"  

Ten Dollars.

So, even if the envelope to James Dunning had nothing to do with this particular scam, there was likely no end to copy cats of this scheme.  It really does seem like a good possibility that the envelope held money to enter an illegal lottery.

from US Mail and Post Office Assistant

 The US Mail and Post Office Assistant was a monthly periodical that provided a wide range of material concerning the US Post Office and the mail during the 1860s.  Lottery swindles show up periodically in this periodical, including the one described above for a "Wright, Gordon & Co."  If you would like to read some of the detail, you can click on the image for a larger version.

This is where I realized that Jas. Dunnell may not have been the individual who was running the scam.  Instead, someone who would claim to be their "agent" might have attempted to pick up the mail for this, potentially fictional, individual.

Perhaps the one person from this period of history you might think of when we talk about humbugs would be P.T. Barnum.  And, as a matter of fact, Barnum wrote a book titled "The Humbugs of the World" that was published in 1866.  In it, he reveals a wide range of scams, including the very lottery scheme outlined by this letter.

P.T. Barnum 1851 - public domain image

Barnum revealed that there were several "companies" that used the same scheme including Boult & Co, T Seymour & Co, Hammett & Co, and Egerton Brothers.  And, while he ridiculed the scam itself, he had very little patience for those who sent them money either.

"Now, those who buy lottery tickets are very silly and credulous, or very lazy, or both. They want to get money without earning it. This foolish and vicious wish, however, betrays them into the hands of these lottery sharks. I wish that each of these poor foolish, greedy creatures could study on this set of letters awhile. Look at them. You see that the lithographed handwriting in all four is in the same hand. You observe that each of them incloses a printed hand-bill with “scheme,” all looking as like as so many peas. They refer, you see, to the same “Havana scheme,” the same “Shelby College Lottery,” the same “managers,” and the same place of drawing. Now, see what they say. Each knave tells his fool his only object is to put said fool in possession of a handsome prize, so that fool may run round and show the money, and rope in more fools."

 Later on in the same chapter, Barnum outlines another lottery scheme that appeared in late 1864.  This scam took the approach of telling the mark that they had a lottery ticket with their name on it that had already won, but since they hadn't purchased the ticket, they had to do something to collect their winnings.

“Your ticket has drawn a prize of $200,”—the letters all name the same amount—“but you didn’t pay for it; and therefore are not entitled to it. Now send me $10 and I will cheat the lottery-man by altering the post-mark of your letter so that the money shall seem to have been sent before the lottery was drawn. This forgery will enable me to get the $200, which I will send you.”

Barnum outlines clearly how the post office is often used for the lottery swindle.  The perpetrator could mail a batch of circulars at any post office.  And since they were printed (lithographed) they qualified for the cheaper postage rates.  They could drop the circulars off at a post office and leave town.  There would be no office or person there to whom it could be traced.

As far as payments, those too could be directed to some smaller post office where a relatively anonymous person could call for letters.  And if the postmaster or others in the town started acting as if they were suspicious, they could simply leave the area and allow the rest to go to the Dead Letter Office.  All the better to run the scam again some other day without being caught.

Mr. Meeker, I presume?

This envelope, mailed in 1936, was sent to a Mr. Lincoln V. Meeker.  The address directs the letter to the ship at Port of Spain, Trinidad.  However, when delivery was attempted, it was found that Mr. Meeker had "left the ship" and apparently no forwarding address was known.  As a result, the letter was returned to Albany, New York.  

The letter was sent via a Foreign Air Mail service to Trinidad at the cost of 20 cents per 1/2 ounce of weight.  This airmail letter rate was effective from Jan 1, 1930 until Nov 30, 1937.  For those who enjoy collecting US air mail, I believe this was carried on FAM route 6 from Miami.  Those who know air mail far better than I can confirm or deny that bit of information.

The September 10 Postal History Sunday included this item as one of a few that I featured on that date.  And, to be honest, I didn't give it too much space then.  Since that time, I have identified someone who could possibly be our mysterious Mr. Lincoln V. Meeker - the person who left the ship called the Steel Navigator before he could receive this letter from Albany, New York.

Lincoln V. Meeker (at left), Regional Director of Union Carbide Pan America 1967

I was able to locate someone with that name in a publication titled Revista das Classes Produtoras (Magazine of Production Classes), 1967\Ano XXIX N.991.  The connection between Union Carbide (where this Lincoln V Meeker served as Regional Director Pan America) and the Steel Navigator is largely coincidental - but how many Lincoln V Meekers existed that allow us to draw those lines?

The Steel Navigator was a commercial steam ship for the Isthmian Line.  This line of steamships were an outgrowth from the US Steel Corporation.  It was not uncommon for companies, such as US Steel, to begin looking to acquire ships and building their own transportation service branch.  

cover - US Steel News, July 1936

The Union Carbide story has some parallel history in that, like US Steel, it was first incorporated in the early 1900s.  Union Carbide's focus was on metal alloys early in its history.  It is credited with a low carbon ferrochrome that was a precursor to stainless steel.  

This is how we make a connection for Lincoln V. Meeker.  Is it possible that he was a passenger on the Steel Navigator - and perhaps an employee of US Steel?  His position with Union Carbide as the Pan America Regional Director gives us both a connection to related product lines and an area of the globe.  It is possible that the intended recipient for this letter was a young Lincoln V. Meeker and, at the point this letter got to Trinidad, he had gone forward on another ship, a plane, or whatever, to another location.

Or maybe he jumped ship to Union Carbide from US Steel?  

For now, this is all I've got to go on.  Obviously, we can't yet draw any conclusions - it's all just a few facts that, with a lot of imagination, just might hold together.  But, it's progress.  Even if that progress turns out to have gone in the wrong direction.

And now, we find ourselves at a stopping point for this week's edition of Postal History Sunday.  I hope you were entertained, at least a little bit.  And maybe, just maybe, you learned something new.

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Thank you for joining me today!  Have a fine remainder of your day and an excellent 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.

Sunday, November 19, 2023

A Sense of Fun - Postal History Sunday

This week's Postal History Sunday is being written "on location" at Chicagopex, an annual event held in (surprise!) Chicago every November.  The name "Chicagopex" is a combination of the city name and a shortening of "Philatelic EXposition" or PEX and it is a three-day event where philatelists (stamp collectors) and postal historians gather.  There are opportunities to buy and sell items, chances to view interesting exhibits of material, and time to chat with others who have similar or related interests.

I was enjoying my time at the show, but there was a low-grade worry niggling at my brain as Saturday progressed.  What was I going to do for Postal History Sunday this week?  I'd started a few things, but none were so close that they would be an easy finish.

item in John Hornbeck's exhibit

Then, as I was looking at an exhibit that focused on a specific type of Dutch postmark called a "point cancellation," I saw a cover from a town called Sneek.  While the name is pronounced to sound more like Snek, I still can't help myself but read it as an American might (sneek).  And that's when I started considering my sense of fun.

After all, if my mispronunciation amuses me and then gets me to look a little longer at Dutch point cancels - why not?  And the good news is that there was some nice postal history from the 1860s in that exhibit that caught my interest too.

 

For example, here is an item that might make a nice "Merry Chase" PHS entry.  It was mailed from Amersfoort in the Netherlands to Florence.  It looks like Milano (Milan) and Venezia (Venice) were also part of its travels.  This is the sort of thing that is often "fun" for me.  But what is fun for me may not be the main interest for someone else.  In this case, John Hornbeck focuses on those cancellations, postmarks that were used to show that a stamp was used to pay the postage.

from Chip Gliedman's exhibit

 Here's a different sense of fun that might be understood by a broader range of the population (unless more people than I think like the "Sneek" angle).  How about a piece of mail that was salvaged from the wreck of the Hindenburg?  

Yeah. That wreck.

While there is nothing actually fun about the disaster and the loss of life that came with it, there is something amazing about seeing, in person, an artifact that survived the crash.  It's the sort of amazing thing that most people can relate to.

from Omar Rodriguez's exhibit

Postal history and philately covers a lot of territory and those who enjoy it can approach it from all sorts of directions.  The first postage stamp issue for Mexico was overprinted with the name of each district and it could be an interesting challenge to see if a person could find an example from each district.  Including Tabasco.

And yes, tabasco sauce used a pepper that originated from this region as a principle ingredient. 

from Jim Mazeppa's exhibit

Sometimes, philatelists and postal historians pick different ways to focus on what they study and collect.  We can focus on cancellations, geographic regions, time periods or maybe a specific postage stamp issue.

The Overrun Countries issue of 1943 and 1944 featured the flags of countries overrun by the Axis powers.  As a young collector, this was a series that I hoped to complete some day.  So, of course, I can't help but appreciate seeing a whole exhibit featuring that series.

And when you focus on some smaller portion of philately or postal history, a person can dig into all kings of details.  For example, the process of printing these bi-color stamps could result in some flaws in the printing.  Shown above are examples where the red ink was doubled, making it look blurry.

from the exhibit of Charles O'Brien

And that brings me to another way to have fun with philately and postal history.  We can look at ways where things went... well... wrong.

If the paper being used to print a postage stamp was folded at the time it was run through the printer, it left an unprinted area when (and if) it is unfolded.  Stamp printing processes typically had good quality control processes, but enough are printed that errors sometimes find their way into the wild.  Some people enjoy the hunt for things that are different because there were errors in the production process.

from John Hotchner's exhibit

Speaking of things that didn't quite go as intended.  There are people who enjoy tracking down forgeries of postage stamps.  Sometimes, those forgeries can be found on a cover that someone actually tried to use a forged stamp to pay the postage.  

In the case above, the attempt was not successful and the Postmaster at the town of mailing contacted the Postal Inspector.

from Hugh Sebag-Montefiore's exhibit
 

And sometimes, you can have fun by exploring reasons for odd things like - why is Napoleon frequently featured with one hand tucked into his clothing at his stomach?  Apparently, it was a way to symbolize "gentlemanly restraint" and was often associated with nobility.  It wasn't because he bit his fingernails and it left them unsightly and distracting to look at.  And it probably wasn't because he had a perpetually upset stomach. 

And, hey, have a little fun. Pick your own absurd or not so absurd reason why it was important for Napoleon to conceal one hand while being painted.  But, I do think the idea that it was a way to cultivate an image of nobility and power was certainly consistent with his ambitions.

My own sense of fun

Frankly, I found myself enjoying just flitting around the exhibits, taking an image of things that just popped out at me for whatever reason.  And, once my attention was grabbed by something in an exhibit, I allowed myself the opportunity to try to appreciate what made the topic fun for the person who was sharing their efforts with all of us.  I found myself appreciating the work of all who put together their materials to build a display - even if the topic or approach was not something I would want to do myself.

After all, my own sense of fun often tends toward rate and route puzzles like this one that was posed to me at the show by someone else.

This particular item is a cover front (the back has been cut off - and maybe some of the sides have also been reduced).  But ,there are four, 5-cent stamps and a single 1-cent stamp from the US 1861 postage series.  The color of the five cent stamps is known as "buff" and is an uncommon color to find in this condition on a piece of postal history.  And that's probably one of the biggest reasons a philatelist would like it.

But, what about a postal historian?

This is not a typical example of a letter sent from the United States to Switzerland in 1862.  There is a lot of different stuff going on and there was some question as to whether there was any reasonable explanation for how it all hangs together.  We even have to consider if it doesn't hang together!  And if that's the case, we have to decide if that means it's been altered in a way that its value as a postal history item was in question.

And here's where I make you all shake your heads and wonder what in the world is wrong with me.  How can ANYONE possibly enjoy looking at an old, messy, piece of paper and think it would be fun to decipher and determine as much as they possibly can about it?

Well, that's the thing about a person's sense of fun.  It doesn't have to make sense.  It just has to be fun for that person.

This letter was mailed at the post office in Hallowell, Maine (located south of Augusta), and postmarked on May 27, 1862.  From there, it traveled to Boston, which served as a foreign exchange office for mail to France.  Yes, Boston was an exchange office for other locations, but I opted to say France because that's where this item was originally addressed.

The address panel reads: G.D. Gelman, Esq, care of John Munroe and Co, Bankers in Paris, France.

The Boston exchange marking says: Boston, May 28, Paid 24

This corresponds with the departure of the Cunard Line ship Niagara on that same day.  It crossed the Atlantic Ocean and arrived in Queenstown (Cobh, Ireland) on June 8.  The "Paid 24" indicated that 24 cents needed to be passed to France for their share of the postal expenses.

And that's our first indication that something might be amiss here.  There's only 21 cents in postage on this cover.  With the "Paid 24" marking and a letter addressed to France, we should expect 30 cents in postage to pay for a double weight letter from the US to France using the 15 cents per 1/4 ounce rate.


Shown above is another cover with 30 cents in postage sent from New York to France in 1866.  It clearly shows a "Paid 24" credit in the New York exchange marking.  It too, was carried on a Cunard Line steamship across the Atlantic.

The red double circle marking is French (dated June 10), and the red box marking that reads "P.D." tells us that the French considered this letter paid in full.  So, now we have both Boston and the French postal clerks declaring this letter paid.  That tells me there was likely 30 cents paid... somehow... for this item.  Maybe the extra nine cents were paid in cash.  Maybe there were some stamps on the back (which is now missing).  We can't know for certain.

But here's where it gets really interesting!

John Monroe and Company served as a forwarding agent for travelers.  They remailed this letter to a new address in Interlaken, Switzerland.  The two black Paris marks indicate that it was remailed and no additional postage was provided.  Instead, there are two "40" markings on the cover that indicate to us that 40 Swiss centimes would be due at the point of delivery.

It just so happens that the postage rate for a letter from France to Switzerland in 1862 was 40 centimes per 7.5 grams at the time. Shown above is an 1865 letter from France to Switzerland that was short paid (and treated as unpaid).  It too, shows us the red "40" marking to indicate 40 centimes must be collected on delivery. So that also matches up - another good sign.

So let's review for a second.

The US to France rate was 15 cents per 1/4 ounce which is about 7.1 grams.  This letter was sent as a double weight letter from the US to France, which means it weighed more than 7.1 grams.

The Swiss rate for an unpaid letter from France was 40 centimes per 7.5 grams.  Which means this letter weighed no more than 7.5 grams.

Yes, sometimes you can get that precise if there are enough clues.  Fun for me.  Maybe it makes no sense for you.  But remember, my sense of fun only really needs to be fun for me!

So, that leaves us with a question.  The 21 cents in postage appear to have been purposely placed on this letter, even though it ended up being the incorrect amount. So, we need to answer the question - why would someone so badly miss the payment amount for a letter addressed to Paris France?

One theory that seems to fit:

The sender in Hallowell knew G.D. Gelman was traveling and that the itinerary placed them in Switzerland by the time the letter got to Europe.  Knowing this, they put postage on the letter for the 21 cent per 1/4 ounce rate to Switzerland.  But, they only knew to send the letter to the forwarding agent in Paris...

Upon presenting this at the post office, the sender was informed that not only was the letter overweight, they could only pay the postage to France because the letter was ADDRESSED to France.  At that time, it looks like this person paid cash OR additional postage was placed on the reverse of this cover (which is now missing).

The letter got to Paris and was recognized as paid in full, but then had to be remailed, postage due.

The back of the cover probably had one or two Swiss markings and maybe one or two French markings.  I am guessing it had a Paris receiving marking for its arrival in Paris on the 10th.  I suspect it might have had a French rail transit marking from Paris to Bale (Basel). The Swiss markings might have been a Swiss rail exchange/transit marking and a receiving mark at the destination.

A second theory that might fit is that the letter was intended to be sent via British Open Mail on an American Packet (steamship), but through some series of errors it went on the British Packet and was treated as fully paid.  In my mind, the first theory seems to fit better.

Well, if you made it this far, good for you!  I appreciate your willingness to tolerate my sense of fun for a little while.  

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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.