The Privilege of Receiving a Nixie

Two days ago I finally received in my mailbox the letter sent from Union Station nearly a month ago on Dec. 18. Turns out it was not lost in the system, or stolen in transit, but was deemed to have been a "Nixie," or a piece of somehow "undeliverable mail". But then of course you should ask as I do -- If the letter was supposed to be delivered to myself, was marked clearly as intended for such delivery, and eventually got to me, how on earth was "not deliverable"? Good question, as always, and one to which I can offer only the most hypothetical of answers.

What Does It Look Like?

Before we begin, it is necessary that I should tell you upfront what my mailpiece looks like and what information I have printed on the envelope, so that you could judge yourself whether it conforms to the standards of deliverability. The envelope and its markings look something like the following:

That is, of course, not my real name, and I would be surprised if this address really exists

At this stage you surely have noticed that two differences exist between my envelope and one sent by a normal person. The first is its lack of a return address (i.e. address of the sender). This is because, if I am to honestly put down the sender's name and address, they would be identical to those of the recipient, which would look pretty silly. Of course an anonymous sender would be more suspicious than silly, but I made sure to disperse any such suspicions by putting into the envelope a strip of paper concisely explaining how it was sent solely for recreation -- the envelope itself is thin and flimsy enough that, should it fall into the hands of some postal inspector, they only need put the whole thing in front of a light source and read my short paragraph, before laughing it off as the harmless experiment that it is. Indeed, since I did receive several other of my sent envelopes in exactly the same format, one of which was mailed from a Congressional office building, I do not suppose an anonymous sender raises any alarm for the postal service.

The second difference is that I put the delivery address in the upper left corner, and not at the center like most people do. At first I suspected that, because machines are now used to read handwritten envelopes, an out-of-place placement of recipient's address may confuse the machinery and require human confirmation, hence causing delay. The USPS, however, the proud (and worthy) "world leader in optical character recognition (OCR)," now has machines reading 98% of all hand-addressed letters, and is considerably good at it. I do not consider myself a terrible hand-writer, so it is unlikely that so many of my letters were to fall into the unlucky 2%. 

Moreover, both of these problems would only have led to delays and not undeliverability -- any suspicion, once dissipated, should not prevent the Postal Service from forwarding the letter, and an address unreadable to a mechanical eye can still be easily typed in manually, not to say delivered successfully by a human carrier. So, why was this letter a "nexie"?

The Nexie Label

This question became even more perplexing when I gave my envelope a second look.

First, the letter was cancelled -- The stamp was (ungracefully) smudged by black marker ink (to prevent reuse, a common practice), and a Christmasy postmark was affixed next to it bearing the date of Dec. 18. Because the machines at USPS (such as the so-called Advanced Facer-Canceller) seem to read the address first before applying postmarks, it would appear that my address was successfully recorded before running into a problem.

But what kind of a problem? The envelope has a bright yellow sticker on it containing some curious information, which I will transcribe below:

I have, of course, again redacted the more specific identifying information

Several points stand out from this yellow strip of paper. First, the zip code following "BC" (which stands for the barcode below, essentially a machine-readable transcription of the numeral code), when entered into any online zip code database, specifically identifies not only the apartment building, but the very floor I live on (the database actually says it belongs to the unit a few steps down the corridor), so the system definitely read and recognized my "To" address.

Second, the date on its top right, so far away in the future that its presence adds to my plain envelope a trace of mystique. Apparently it denotes the date when my letter was processed, so pretty decent of my time-traveling letter to have returned to me, I guess. Or alternatively there must have been some glitch with the machinery or software.

Third, the "207" part indicates the processing site location. In this case I believe it was at the Suburban MD Annex in Gaithersburg, Maryland. Not very helpful.

Two Possible Answers

In the end I have come to the conclusion that only one of those two things must have happened -- Either there was a mess-up at the back-end, where somebody saw this envelope, confused the "to" address with the "from" address and thought the letter was meant for "Union Station", in which case it would have been too vague to be forwarded -- or there was a mess-up at the front-end, where the carrier read the "to" address, found it unfamiliar or thought it faulty, before returning it to USPS' forwarding department for further research, before said department determined it is in fact a valid address, instructed the carrier so, and had them deliver it after a four-week ordeal.

I myself strongly favor the first hypothesis. The mail delivery lady for my area seems perfectly competent, and she has delivered some of my other letters (in identical envelopes) without issue. It is also plainly unimaginable how a human carrier could read a legible and correct address of a well-established apartment and in good faith find it undeliverable.

It is to say, the problem was within the processing center. It is not impossible that, by virtue of my apartment being a rental property, somewhere in the "nooks and crannies" off USPS' database my unit is still paired with its former occupant, and so when my name instead of hers showed up the system detected some inconsistency and hence deemed it undeliverable. Perhaps after the label was added some other clerk double-checked it, shrugged at the database's incompetence and returned my perfectly good letter to its proper carrier who eventually deposited it downstairs. Things like that apparently happen often enough, and my handwritten envelope and weird formatting certainly made it more susceptible.

A Final Question

Before I settle on this passable answer, however, there is one lingering thought I cannot easily dispose of. The explanation I concocted above can explain a singular incident, an unfortunate exception or a once-in-a-month sort of slip-up, but of the eight letters I sent out I've only received five (counting this one), so there must have been a more systematic and fundamental issue with my letters. Perhaps in the days to come more yellow nixie labels are to arrive at my doorstep, and perhaps they can shed some more light on this postal puzzle. 

DC Postal Pilgrimage: The List

Post Offices (Operational)

1. National Capitol (20002-9997), 2 Massachusetts Ave NE, visited 2023/12/18

2. Union Station (20002-9995), 50 Massachusetts Ave NE, visited 2023/12/18

3. Frances Perkins (20210-0002), 200 Constitution Ave NW, visited 2023/12/18

4. Longworth (20515-9992), 15 Independence Ave SE, Rm B202, visited 2023/12/21

5. Ford (20515-9995), 441 2nd St SW, Rm H2-121, visited 2023/12/21

6. Benjamin Franklin (20004-2403), 1200 Pennsylvania Ave NW, visited 2023/12/27

7. Martin Luther King Jr (20005-9997), 1400 L St NW, Lbby 2, visited 2023/12/28

8. Dept of Agriculture (20250-0004), 1400 Independence Ave SW, visited(f) 2024/01/02

9. L'Enfant Plaza (20024-9995), 470 L'Enfant Plz SW, Ste 604, visited 2024/01/02

Post Offices (Closed)

1. TechWorld (Processing only), 800 K St NW, visited 2023/12/24

Post Office Department (USPS) Headquarters

1. General Post Office Building, 700 F St NW, visited 2023/12/28

2. Old Post Office Building, 1100 Pennsylvania Ave NW, visited 2023/12/27

3. New Post Office Building (Benjamin Franklin), visited 2023/12/27

4. Current USPS Headquarters, 475 L'Enfant Plaza SW, visited 2024/01/02

Other Postal Facilities

1. National Association of Letter Carriers Headquarters, 100 Indiana Ave NW

Last updated: Jan. 4, 2024.

Failure Meets Success, Part 2 (L'Enfant Plaza, USPS Headquarters)

L'Enfant Plaza Station

The strange layout of 470 L'Enfant Plaza

I've been to L'Enfant Plaza several times before and was well aware of its awkward topography. There are tunnels, train tracks, overpasses, weird ramps and underground shopping centers, which caused me quite some troubles on my first visit and greatly wounded my pride as an urbanite. So imagine my apprehension when 470 L'Enfant Plaza, address to USPS' L'Enfant Plaza branch, appeared to be situated on top of two highways and one regular street, seemingly without any other road linkages. Turns out 470 L'Enfant Plaza seems to share the same horrendous building with two more addresses, 480 and 490, the former of which denotes its major occupant, a Hilton Hotel. 

Its Brutalist outlook does conform to its governmental neighbors,
but hardly conveys a sense of hospitality

A Hilton and a post office don't seem to mix well, so I thought I must have made a mistake -- the office must have its own entrance somewhere else, probably facing that street underneath. Luckily I decided not to place too much confidence in my geolocation abilities and asked the hotel staff instead, who led me to an unassuming staircase in the lobby and told me to follow it down. These stairs led me to a spacious underground food court / shopping center, although both roles are undermined by its dearth of decent dining or shopping options. Unless you are desperate for a haircut or to have nails done, there's no need to stop by. I couldn't even find coffee.

They also replaced a glass pyramid with this rectangular box

This space, officially called "La Promenade," apparently underwent major renovations in 2009 to become what it is now. I, for one, was not in DC at the time, but from what internet photos I could find, their effects were more destructive than rejuvenating -- The once lively underground tunnel cramped with small shops was transformed into today's bright, pleasing-to-the-eye but boring subterranean square filled with fast food chains. Hardly an improvement. Of course, I know the "death of shopping malls" is a theme so often harped upon that it's become stale, but it's still disheartening to witness in real life.

L'Enfant Plaza station, another underground post office, but with bright blue branding for show

USPS Headquarters

USPS Headquarters

The USPS headquarters, another Brutalist (but slightly better designed) building of Southwestern DC, is one small block away from the Hilton (in between sits the ultra-modern International Spy Museum) and my next destination. Most of the building is closed off to random members of the public like me, but the receptionists (and security guards) were kind enough to permit my free roaming in the lobby area, which is basically a long corridor with state, district and territorial flags draping on both sides. A small green single-horse carriage is parked within, bearing the words "Rural Delivery Route No. 1 U.S. Mail." This vehicle belongs to the first generations of rural letter carriers, who since 1896 have been driving wagons, cars and trucks on muddy, poorly paved or remote roads to reach some 41 million addresses (in 2012). A reporter in 1903 told us that "each carrier [must] furnish his own wagon," which explains their variable models, colors and branding. A list of early rural routes by state can be found here. 

Flags, Christmas Tree and a Rural Mail Wagon

Failure Meets Success, Part 1 (Dept of Agriculture & Bureau of Engraving and Printing)

Today is the first business day of 2024, so I set out to visit two more post offices and two more postal (or at least postally relevant) facilities. All four are situated on the southwestern corner of the National Mall, so a comfortable 30 minute or so by foot from where I live and not too hard to take in in one go.

The Department of Agriculture

The Department of Agriculture (USDA) Headquarters houses another of USPS' branches, located in its newer South Building, constructed in the 1930s to accommodate the growing Department, which before then had to be cramped into the Beaux-Arts Jamie L. Whitten Building (built in 1908) across the street. To ensure easy movement between those two structures two footbridges were added in 1936 that straddle Independence Ave with elegantly simplistic single arches. 

Jamie L. Whitten Building, named after a former Mississippi Congressman with a long tenure in the agricultural community

A corner of the massive South Building, with a spacious central court and a lot -- I mean a LOT -- of guarded entrances

One of the linking bridges

Led blindly by my digital map I ended up outside its southern facade , in front of an archway leading to the central court. I had no idea whether I should turn around and look for a more regular entrance, and the archway itself is blocked by a traffic gate and doesn't look too welcoming. So I asked the security guard for guidance, who told me the USDA post office is not open to the public, and access is limited to those bearing "badges" or more generally federal employees. I later learned that the State Department station, the single other USPS branch in a federal executive office building, is similarly off-limits.

As much of a bummer as it is, I would still like to note the strong historical connections between the Department of Agriculture and its postal counterpart. By the 1820s subsistence agriculture (where a farming household produces enough for their own consumption and has little surplus to sell) had begun to give way to commercial farming, as rapid urbanization demanded more food and better transportation created a potentially profitable market for their products. This prompted the Patent Office (whose Agricultural Division was the precursor to today's USDA) to systematically collect and distribute the best possible plant variants, usually in the form of seeds in sealed packages, which obviously were to be delivered by the postal service. By 1860, roughly 2.4 million of these packages passed through its system each year.

Then in 1862 the USDA was created as a cabinet-level office to better coordinate and improve farming practices, and inherited from its progenitor the important duty of seed distribution and expanded it to an unprecedented scale -- In 1895 alone 9.9 million packs of seeds were sent out, and before 1902 the Department essentially acted as America's most prominent commercial seed company, with the postal service running its errands.

But the postal system does not discriminate amongst its users, and in the 1880s other competitors began to emerge. The most successful of them was probably the W. Atlee Burpee Company, first founded in 1876 as a local breeder and seller of farm animals but soon moving on to sell seeds via mail order. Burpee's business enjoyed greater success into the 1890s, probably a combined result of him introducing the ubiquitous "Iceberg" lettuce and an 1896 postal office reform that established the then-controversial Rural Free Delivery (RFD), which opened up the massive rural market to mail-order companies like the famous Montgomery & Ward and Burpee.

Today the USDA has largely faded out of the world of seed delivery, but it still warns farmers about invasive species spreading through mail while the USPS maintains the stringent legal requirements for the sending of plants and animals via its system. This brief historical excursion will not compensate for my failure to physically tour the USDA, but it will have to do. 

The Bureau of Engraving and Printing

The eastern (and the less impressive) facade of BEP headquarters

The BEP headquarters is a mere 3 minute walk from the USDA, and features guided tours and a gift shop that unfortunately sells nothing postal -- I did not go on a tour today, but should I do so in the future will most definitely write about it here. The bureau was responsible for printing most of these stamps issued between 1894 and 2005 -- Myriad private companies competed for stamp-printing contracts prior to that, and since 2011 all stamps were printed in-house by the USPS.

First Stamps of the Year -- From Constantinople to Danzig to China

Alas, while the USPS and its army of postal workers take a well-deserved break on Jan. 1, a postal tourist knows no reprieve, and -- as not one of DC's post offices is open -- went back to the National Postal Museum for the I-lost-count-weeks-agoth time today, mostly because (I presume) many more people want to visit the many Smithsonian museums than send letters on the first day of a new year.

I am also fully aware of my promise to write about the exhibits at NPM, although regrettably this article is not about them. Instead, I headed straight to the museum store, exchanged "Happy New Year" with three security guards, one cashier and several confused fellow visitors, and bought another stockbook alongside two more bags of unsorted stamps to kick-start 2024. Now that I've combed through both of them, I suppose it's not too bad a time to note some reflections, some feelings, and some incoherent thoughts.

The Domestic Stamps

A quick glance at some of today's additions

Naturally I started with the bag containing U.S. stamps (mingled with the odd George VI). Most of them I already have, but their magic was not diminished in the least by familiarity. For an hour I spotted the Bahamas aboard Santa María, landed on San Salvador to the detriment of an unsuspecting Guanahani tribe, welcomed Marquis de Lafayette and his armory upon arrival in South Carolina, witnessed Vermont and Arizona join the Union, traveled on a sleigh, a racing car, an oil wagon and the first domestically built locomotive. I also got to deliver mail, sometimes by horse-drawn wagons and more recently by air. There were times of excitement --visiting Yosemite and the 1932 Winter Olympics in upstate New York certainly were among them -- until the Century of Progress was punctuated by a time of crisis -- The Second World War had Americans call for a swift, decisive victory, the attainment of which ushered in a new era of rebuilding, diplomatic tensions but relative peace under the aegis of international institutions like the United Nations.

The International Stamps

I've bought my share of international stamps from the Museum before, but never once has any bag contained so alarmingly many US stamps that got me worried about the sorting staff, who somehow must have frequently forgotten what "USA," so prominently displayed on many of these stamps, stands for. But then again who am I to fault a likely overstretched and under-compensated worker? As a result I must retract my complaint two sentences ago, and you, dear reader, also should disregard it.

A second glance, this time international -- You may see the
Ottoman stamp in the sixth row, right above those easily
identifiable Weimar Era German stamps. Two rows down
you may find the dark purple Danziger stamp

Perusing international stamps always feels different, especially when you happen upon a specimen from an obscure or bygone country, like Nepal or the Ottoman Empire -- one belonging to the latter was my favorite acquisition of this day. Information on this particular stamp is lacking, but according to the always helpful Linn's, back in 1914 (not even a decade before the 600-year-or-so empire was to collapse) the Ottoman postal system, or Postes Ottomanes in French, so often the lingua franca of our postal world, issued some of the Empire's first pictorial stamps. Known as the "Views of Constantinople" series, its 5-paras (think cents) variant portrays the Maiden's Tower, a lighthouse / customs house / quarantine station on an island in the Bosphorus, the standing structure of which could be traced back to 1763. This series led to an abundance of variations, such as two surcharged versions for circulation in Western Thrace, a traditionally Greek/Turkish region the disputed sovereignty for which had just reverted to the newborn Kingdom of Bulgaria. The one in my collection, however, was a reissue in 1920 as evidenced by its orange-brown hue.

My second favorite again comes from a country that exists no more -- the Free State of Danzig, or the Freie Stadt Danzig, a largely autonomous city-state carved from the Weimar Republic in 1920. Danzig's political status is as complicated as it gets, being an ethnically German area placed under the League of Nations' protection but represented diplomatically by the Polish Republic, and one of the city's post offices was the site of a most heroic Polish struggle against Nazi invasion in 1939.

A Wikimedia Commons picture to better appreciate its geometric
and heraldic glory; see the end of this article for author attribution

Even with its historical connections aside, the stamp I refer to (1922 93 Wappen, denomination 75 pfennig) is still one of the more impressive designs I've ever seen. The darkish purple background is in itself a noble and well-saturated color, and contrasts successfully with the white, almost intaglio patterns. The diamond-shaped core further gives the central coat of arms a gem-like quality, and surely must stand out in any collection -- A simple changing in color yields a multitude of variants that are easily distinguishable, a perfect arrangement for definitives like this.

Now that I'm beginning to sound like a stamp dealer, it's probably a good idea to move on. While checking foreign stamps, it's always enlightening (or rather mystifying) to look for a date on the postmark, especially one from the earlier years of last century, and imagine the journey its former carrier might have had.

For instance, I found in today's bag two Republic of China stamps, more precisely the third Sun Yat-sen definitives of 1937, one of which was cancelled in 1938. If maths adds up, that was either the second or the seventh (depending on what you saw as the beginning) year into Japanese invasion of China (or, if you're so inclined, into the Second Sino-Japanese War, a name as criminal as calling the American Revolution a "First Anglo-American Conflict" to differentiate it from the "Second Anglo-American Conflict" which is of course the War of 1812), when the entirety of Eastern and much of Northern China had fallen into Japanese hands.

Who sent the letter bearing this stamp which now sits quietly in my stockbook? Surely it must have been destined for the United States -- These random stamp bags contain a consistently high concentration of Canadian, British and German stamps, which I suppose all are countries with consistently voluminous correspondence with the United States -- so to whom was the writer writing, and about what was their letter? Did they survive this terrible ordeal, or did they perish in the war, with this rusty-colored stamp bearing the only trace of their mortal existence? When you touch a stamp you can't help but ask such questions, but wherever you look there can be no answers. That's the peculiar quality of singular stamps like this -- they were once parts of something supremely personal, may it be a letter for some faraway relative, a tentative hand to one's secretly beloved, a postcard sent back home while on vacation, or a distress call -- but by nature they can only reach a collector upon this attachment's severance. A regular collector will hardly ever handle a stamp on an envelope that still contains its original content, and such is deeply regrettable, like staring at a headstone where the name has been weathered away, or an old photo of some long-gone person whose only proof of ever having lived is said image. History erases much of itself, and stamps are but a most imperfect embodiment of our attempt to halt the moving of a clock's hand, or to build fixtures from sand.

But this building of sand castles must not cease.

Image of the Danziger stamp was retrieved from:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Danzig_1922_93_Wappen.jpg. Image Credit: Petersen, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Two Probably Unwarranted Complaints

Complaint One: The USPS Consumer Advocate

As I reported earlier, I sent a letter on Dec. 20 to USPS Consumer Advocate to ask about the official name of its "National Capitol (or Capital)" station. And as I said it was returned to me, on Dec. 23, unopened and seemingly undelivered. Strangely I saw no irregularity that could have caused it -- The "TO" and the "FROM" were clearly marked, the stamp affixed, and the letter apparently reached a processing facility to be cancelled with a postmark.

This naturally got me wondering what could possibly have gone wrong. I've rarely mailed inquiries to governmental agencies before, so I thought perhaps they require a return envelope and a postal worker, feeling the thinness of my envelope, thought (rightly) it lacking in that department, and sent it back. So I prepared anew, this time enclosing in my envelope a pre-written return envelope with stamps, and mailed it again on Dec. 24.

Yesterday, on Dec. 30, I got that back, once more unopened but bearing all signs of having reached a processing worker. Either there is some conspiracy at work that systematically diverts all correspondence bound for the Consumer Advocate, perhaps in an attempt to insulate them from all postal complaints, or, far more likely, the Consumer Advocate's Office has some weird policy regarding acceptance or rejection of incoming mail that I'm not aware of. I will probably just overcome my guilt of bothering them for such a trivial matter and just write to the Postmaster General's Office instead.

Complaint Two: The Speed of Delivery

The second issue is arguably more problematic -- I mailed the first of my self-addressed letters on Dec. 18 from three post offices that are quite literally twenty minutes away by foot, yet so far, by the end of Dec. 30 I have received none of them. As a matter of fact, of the 7 letters I mailed, only 2 have found their way back, an impressively disappointing statistic. Most sources I consulted insist on a 2 to 3 day delivery time, and I am not glad at all to have proved them wrong.

A possible explanation is the recent labor shortage of USPS -- Labor unions have complained mightily about it, or at least the forces at play that contributed to said shortage: low funding has led to low pay and high turnover, which, in APWU's words, caused the public to "[lose] confidence in the USPS' ability to deliver mail promptly and efficiently." I, for one, has certainly lost said confidence, although I find it hard to blame the postal workers themselves. Perhaps the answer lies in one of those processing sites that I should go see sometime.

I will probably also upload a spreadsheet detailing the time it took for USPS to deliver my letter from each of the branches I visited.

Martin Luther King Jr. Station, and the General Post Office Building

Today I again went on a postal trip across town -- its destination? USPS's Martin Luther King Jr. station, a short distance to the northeast of the White House. On my way back I stopped at the General Post Office Building, the Post Office Department's 5th DC headquarters in operation from 1841 to 1899. Frankly they aren't the most impressive of postal facilities, but I'm glad still to cross two addresses off my list.

The Martin Luther King Jr. Station

Not an eyesore, but not too pretty either

This station has a great location on the northwestern corner of Franklin Park, one of the most charming urban greens I've ever visited. The building in which it sits, however, is quite unassuming, much like the post office housed within. As a matter of fact, when I walked up to its somewhat opaque glass doors, for a second I almost thought the office was abandoned. The station was quiet, and I don't even think I saw any clerk behind its counters. 

Thankfully the station's history is more fun than its aesthetic appearance. Although I could not ascertain when this branch earned its reverable name, MLK has always been a highly respected figure within the postal workforce, and those highlights of his life immortalized in stamps (such as those earlier designs bearing his image, or the more recent Forever stamp commemorating his 1963 March on Washington), names of more than one post office (there's one more in Houston, Texas) and a federal holiday that postal labor unions still hold very dear.  

Inside the Martin Luther King Jr. station

I also found a highly entertaining article by Justin Moyer, who was on his own DC post office streak some 14 years ago and seems to have had a personal vendetta against the MLK station and its terribly inefficient and humorless clerks. As usual I went there only to take pictures and deposit an envelope, so couldn't attest to any potential improvement in the branch's customer services, but I'm sure there must have been some -- Justin talks about long lines and annoyed patrons, two things that have since disappeared thanks to a decline in postal demand, which must have taken some stress of our diligent postal clerks, and hence improved their mood greatly.

The General Post Office Building

Not to be confused with the Old Post Office Building, the New Post Office Building at Federal Triangle, or the New Post Office Building next to Union Station (by God the creativity of these people), the General Post Office Building stands across from the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the Capital One Arena, and now houses the Kimpton Hotel Monaco. It was one of the first public buildings in DC to have gas heating and central power, and the facade underwent some renovations in the early 2000s -- the many chimneys are gone, and I'm almost certain the portico was a later addition.

Perfect accommodation for out-of-town sports fans

The carpeted lobby with its Christmas tree lit, makes you crave some eggnog

Like with the Waldorf-Astoria I went inside and struck up a conversation with the friendly receptionist, who, to my regret, told me that there is absolutely nothing left behind that would remind me of the building's postal past -- the interior has been thoroughly reworked, the telegraph room converted into a ballroom, and all its equipments removed. For all future postal enthusiasts, you need not go inside.