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.

Old Post Office Building and the Benjamin Franklin Branch, Part 2 -- Buildings, Postal Buses and Maps

A brief recap of my previous article -- in Washington, DC's Federal Triangle, a few blocks filled to the brim with, well, federal office buildings, stand two major postal facilities. One of them, the focus of said article, is the Old Post Office Building which housed the city's main post office from 1899 to 1914, as well as the Post Office Department (POD)'s headquarters between 1899 and 1934. By 1934 most of the Federal Triangle had been built, and the POD moved across the street into the newer and more spacious "New Post Office Building," essentially a wing of the gigantic complex now known as the William Jefferson Clinton Federal Building, or just the Clinton Building for short. I also visited it yesterday.

The Benjamin Franklin Station

Despite many renovations and additions, the New Post Office Building retains almost all of its original Classical Revival exterior, which gives it a less ornamental but arguably nobler appearance than its neighbor. In 1971, one year after the Great Postal Strike (which saw 200,000 postal workers protest low pay and seek collective bargaining rights), the Postal Reorganization Act abolished the POD, replaced it with the USPS (simultaneously demoting the unfortunate Postmaster General Winton Blount from a cushy chair in the Cabinet), and finally gave postal workers their broad, long-overdue bargaining rights. The newborn agency stayed in this building for two more years, before moving, for the 8th time in U.S. postal history, to a new home, this time the Brutalist 475 L'Enfant Plaza SW. Between 1973 and the early 1990s the building housed the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF), before being designated headquarters of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to this day.

Northern facade of New Post Office Building, entrance to Benjamin Franklin station seen to the left

But, just like how a small post office remains in the now-National Postal Museum building after the city's main post office moved away in the 1990s, a small post office, named the Benjamin Franklin station, was left behind in the New Post Office Building. The station itself looked pretty regular, staffed by one single window clerk, but the corridor outside retains some remnants of the old POD.

Corridor of the Benjamin Franklin station

Inside the Benjamin Franklin station

Words on the wall

The first such remnant is an inscription in the foyer, which proudly proclaims the building's completion "under the administration of Franklin D. Roosevelt" without mentioning the poor Herbert Hoover, under whose administration the construction began in 1931. It also spelled out all four Assistant Postmasters General, the highest-ranking officers under the Postmaster General until 1949, when a Deputy Postmaster General was appointed to handle the department's day-to-day operations so that the Postmaster General may spend more time to consider "important questions of general policy."

The second is a series of murals and other interior decorations done between 1932 and 1938 by the Section of Fine Arts, a New Deal program managed by the Treasury to employ otherwise unemployed artists. In fact, this building was one of the first this Section worked on, as post offices were centers of community and accessible to all, hence the logical places to implement public arts.

The first duo: Steamships and buses

Two pieces of arts in the foyer caught my eyes the most. One of them is the floor decor depicting two compasses and four modes of mail transportation: a steamboat, a bus, an airplane and a train car. Let's talk about them in turn: Boats have been regularly used to transport mail in America since the early 19th century -- they started out as little packet boats traveling on rivers, lakes and canals, saw extensive use during the mid-century, and grew to traverse the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans competing with their European rivals, carrying passengers as well as letters and packages.

The mail buses were a more obscure and interesting story. They were called the Highway Post Office Buses, in operation from 1941 to 1974, intended to replace railway mail. For example, one mail bus regularly traveled between Washington, DC and Harrisonburg, VA, a journey that took a little more than 5 hours, during which the in-bus clerk would have had more than enough time to sort the mail in transit.

The second duo: Airplanes and train cars

As far as I understand, I have seen two of those buses. One of them was, of course, at the National Postal Museum, which maintains the first Highway Post Office Bus ever used. The other was at a small volunteer-run affair called the Pacific Bus Museum in Fremont, CA, which was converted into an RV after retirement. The museum's guides proudly assured me that it was the only postal bus RV in existence, and I saw little reason to doubt the its truth.

Now we move on to airplanes, which I should not dwell too much on, as the history of U.S. airmail is well documented and easily accessible. Suffice to say that, at the time of the building's completion, the airmail didn't have the best of reputations -- the 1934 Airmail Scandal exposed the secretive and unfair nature of the POD awarding airmail contracts to friendly carrier companies, leading to the cancellation of all such contracts and a temporary transfer of airmail duties to the Army Air Corps.

Finally, the trains -- in the 1930s, more than 10,000 trains moved mail in the U.S., with clerks stationed on each to sort it en route, just like their peers on highway mail buses. However, after 1958, when the railroad companies were no longer obligated to run money-losing passenger railway lines, the number of mail-carrying trains also drastically declined, with the service's abolition in 1977. The revival of mail-carrying trains in 1993, and how freight trains still transport mail in bulk today, are stories for another time.

Note the unfortunate lack of Switzerland, the Baltic states, Ireland, etc, and the unfortunate rebirth of Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire

The second interesting piece of art in the foyer is a colorful world map on the floor, which largely reflected international borders in the late 1930s, such as huge colonial holdings in Africa and a larger-than-now Germany. Nevertheless, the artists almost certainly took creative liberties and sacrificed some accuracy. A most jarring modification is the partition of the Soviet Union, probably in an attempt to avoid having one massive glob of color up north. There are also two typical New Deal-style murals, a few concealed telephone booths, some gilded wall decor and old-timey mail sorter desks, but they weren't too interesting to warrant a deep dive.

Entrance to the station

Old Post Office Building and the Benjamin Franklin Branch, Part 1

It was drizzling today, but I managed to pull myself out of my apartment for another post office visit. This time's destination was the Benjamin Franklin station, located in the Federal Triangle two or three blocks east of the White House. It also sits across 12th St NW from the grand Old Post Office Building, which is now the seat of a Waldorf-Astoria. Although I visited the station before exploring the Old Post Office, for the sake of historical narration let's talk the latter first.

Old Post Office, New Waldorf-Astoria

The Old Post Office Building, which was built in its Romanesque Revival glory of arched windows and solid, impressive masonry in the 1890s, served as the U.S. Post Office Department (POD)'s -- take a guess -- 6th headquarters in this city. None of the first four structures exists today, but the fifth -- the General Post Office built in 1839 and in use as the postal headquarters between 1841 and 1899 -- still stands but as Hotel Monaco, which I will probably visit in the next few days. 

Somehow reminds me of Philadelphia's City Hall

Anyway, due to the increasing importance of postal services and the growing volume of mail from and to the District, the "Old" Post Office, then brand new, was approved for construction in 1890 on this site. Back then the Federal Triangle was no reputable place, but rather a collection of brothels and urban slums aptly called "Murder Bay," so the Congress chose this location in an explicit attempt to "revitalize" that infamous neighborhood. 

Its construction began in 1892 and took seven long years to finish, but the end result justifies the time invested -- it contained the largest uninterrupted enclosed space in DC at the time, the first DC structure to have a pre-designed electrical wiring system (enabling innovative indoor lighting), and is still the third tallest architecture in the city at 315 feet (behind Washington Monument's 555 and the National Shrine's 329). The bell tower is now operated as a museum and a sightseeing platform, although I learned upon arrival that it would only re-open starting tomorrow.

Foyer of the Waldorf-Astoria, largely unchanged from before

After the City's Main Post Office moved to the "New Post Office" in 1914 next to the Union Station, which I visited before Christmas, the POD had this building to itself for twenty more years, until it also moved out in 1934, across the street to the "New Post Office Building," which for the sake of clarity I shall refer to as the Clinton Federal Building, a name that technically denotes the entire complex. But before we go there, let's talk about the history of Old Post Office after it ceased to serve any postal purpose.

For example, how it escaped demolishment for the second time in 1971. I say "second time" because in the 1920s the government once considered tearing it down to make space for new federal office buildings that were being erected next to it. That time it was saved, oddly enough, by the Great Depression which halted those building projects. In the 1970s, however, it was saved by concerned citizens who had it listed in the National Registry of Historic Places, guaranteeing its legal protection.

Like so many things postal in this city, a mere remnant of the past

In 2013 this property was leased to The Trump Organization, which developed it into a luxury hotel that opened in 2016. The lease was resold to another business group in 2022, and the hotel renamed to Waldorf-Astoria. The building's interior remained essentially unchanged, but most of the postal facilities an equipment had been removed, save a tubed mailbox in the foyer. This is not, as I initially suspected, part of a larger pneumatic tube mail system like that in New York City, but a simple intra-building collection box.

In short, starting in the 1880s, as multi-story skyscrapers emerged in major cities, it became more and more annoying for office workers to deposit their mail. The POD's solution was to install in them a system of chutes, not for garbage, but for letters, which can be thrown inside and end up in a collection box on the ground floor. This box in the Waldorf was made by the Cutler Company, but appears to have been customized to say "Department Mail" instead of the more generic "Letters."

More Photos of the Old Post Office

Former entrance to the Old Post Office

The chute; I do not know whether it still leads to any usable depositary openings

Patent mark on the collection box

A Closed Post Office in a Closed Techworld

Today is Sunday, and the Christmas Eve, which means I could only undertake a very brief excursion. I have read in an old post office catalogue that there used to be an USPS branch called "TechWorld" at 800 K St NW across from what is now the DC History Center, within walking distance from where I live. And with a cool name like that, you can hardly pass by without looking into it for a little bit.

From the northern side of TechWorld looking south
you may see the National Portrait Gallery two blocks away
the reddish tower of Calvary Baptist Church is also in sight

The "TechWorld" complex as it stands (mostly) today came into being in the mid-1980s when Giuseppe Cecchi, an Italian architect who developed the (in)famous Watergate Complex (which, in my opinion, looks far more pleasant), got the idea to create "a complete on-stop store for high-tech products" in DC's historical downtown. His plan, however, met opposition from the outset. The City's Zoning Commission objected to its glassy exterior; the Smithsonian hated the glass passageway bridge; and several other citizen groups were concerned with turning a section of 8th St into pedestrian-only space. 

From what I saw, Cecchi clearly got his way -- his bridge still overlooks a pedestrian walkway devoid of pedestrians, and much of its glass exterior is still in place. I should also mention its troubled construction: Of its four quadrants that together form the squarish complex, the first, housing the Renaissance Washington Hotel, went up in 1986, the second in 1989, and the third in 1991, but "money ran out" before the fourth was complete, so it was sold in 2004 and built somewhat differently. 

As for what's inside -- I do not know whether TechWorld lived up to its name, or if Cecchi's vision of it being some integrated marketplace for electronics was ever realized. The northwestern quadrant remains a hotel to this day, though is now managed by the Westin instead. The southeastern quadrant was built by the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW) which bought this section in 2004, and is still the seat of its union headquarters. The other two sections now host a few pretty good restaurants, a gym and some governmental workspace, but most storefronts are empty and stripped for redevelopment. Their past occupants cannot be known, as those two quadrants were sold to the Meridian Group in 2014, renamed Anthem Row, and thoroughly renovated on the inside.

Former entrance (I presume) to the USPS TechWorld branch, now leading to the National Treasury Employees Union (NTEU)

One aspect of this renovation that appears to have been particularly unwelcome was the removal of a lovely Chinese rock garden in one of TechWorld's courtyards. Designed by Alfred Liu, who has many other DC landmarks under his belt (including the nearby DC Chinatown Friendship Archway), it did carry an authentically Chinese air, consisting of many peculiarly shaped rocks and trees that would not look out of place in any city park in China. With the garden gone, there is little to remind you of the nearby Chinatown, save the several Chinese inscriptions on the architecture's exterior pedestals that spell, with surprising accuracy, the four cardinal points and their corresponding mythical creatures -- "East with the Green Dragon," "West with the White Tiger," "South with the Red Phoenix," and "North with the Black Tortoise." The calligraphy is bad, as if the characters were carbon copies of Comic Sans, but the spirit is to be appreciated.

Finally, a word about the nonexistent post office. I couldn't find its specific closure date, but a local news article reported in December 2011 that the TechWorld branch had been taken off a potential closure list, which apparently did not save it from eventual demise between now and then. It is also uncertain whether this branch was for retail or just mail processing because different sources of information conflict on this point.

A Question Unanswered, an Envelope Un-postmarked, a District Gone

First, the Unanswered Question

The more astute readers, at least those more observant than I was, might have noticed in my first blog a slight discrepancy -- I keep referring to the first post office I visited as the "National Capitol" station, while in one of the photographs (which I post once more here) it is plainly visible that its entrance reads "National Capital" station. What's up with that?

The name of said station as spelled on the USPS website
it is also one of those rare branches that are open on Sundays 

Puzzled, I turned to Google for help. Most of the online resources I found, including those by the mighty USPS itself, seem to call it "Capitol," and Google even tried to convince me, upon typing in "USPS national capital," whether I had meant "national capitol" instead. But even the USPS itself isn't consistent -- Its compliance review in 2021 mentions this station as "National Capital," cited as is in another report by the Congressional Research Service in 2022. 

Front entrance to the station spelling "Capital"

With my digital investigation inconclusive, I did what any sensible person would have done, and wrote a letter to the USPS Consumer Advocate. The letter was sent out in the evening of Dec. 20, by means of me depositing it in my apartment's mail collection box, and got it back earlier today, on the 23rd. Notice how I say "got it back" and not "received a reply" or "heard back from the Advocate," because the letter got back to me "as was" -- the original letter in its original envelope, unopened, unaltered, with nothing attached. I don't quite know if the carriers mistook the "from" address for the "to" address, or if the Advocate took one look at the envelope and was immediately repulsed by my handwritten addresses.

I will, of course, re-send this letter to the Advocate's Office, preferably with some clearer instructions on the envelope. I could always write to the Postmaster General's Office or his Board of Governors, but I don't feel comfortable bothering them on so trivial a matter, so the good Advocate will have to endure my curiosity.

Then, the Un-postmarked Envelope

As said, I sent to myself three letters on Dec. 18 (from National Capitol, Union Station and the Dept. of Labor) and two more on Dec. 21 (from Ford and Longworth), so imagine my surprise when the first of these I received (today) was from Ford. Guess the postal system serving Congressional representatives is slightly more efficient, or perhaps it simply doesn't have too many letters to manage, which, given what I saw, is probably the case.

Just so that I shall remain anonymous

Anyways, despite me writing "Please cancel with postmark if possible" on the envelope, this plea went unheard. Or, more likely, went heard but was unable to be satisfied because no circular postmark stamps exist anymore at the station. However, both letters (one from Ford and the other for the Advocate) bear this year's Christmas postmark -- a snow globe with Santa Claus in it, marked "2023". There have been many such holiday postmarks, and many peculiarly named towns (like Santa Claus, IN) that dabble in them, which deserve a separate entry.

Finally, a Bygone District

The other mark that accompanies our snow globe is a bit more perplexing -- it reads on its first line "Capital District 208," and its second, "21 Dec 2023 PM 1 L." The first line sounds unproblematic -- after all, DC is the capital -- but the Capital District as an administrative division within the USPS system doesn't seem to be a thing any longer. A news article last year refers to it as the "former" District, while a 2021 organizational chart includes no Capital District, but only a Maryland District (under an Atlantic Area) covering Washington, DC. There is, as far as I can tell, a "Capital Metro Operations" office for USPS customer service, but I doubt this office had anything to do with postmarking. More interestingly, under the current system "208" doesn't even seem to be the first-three-digit-zip-code for DC -- it should have been "200" -- but that for a part of Maryland. My only theory is that this administrative change has yet to be reflected in new equipment and procedures.

The second line is more illuminated. The date is obviously that of the day letters were sent out, while the "L," according to a Redditor, standing for the stamp "leading" an envelope, i.e., identifying which side the mailpiece was facing while being processed. Some older mail bears the alternative "T" for "trailing," but due to the phasing out of certain old equipment, "T"s are becoming rarer and rarer. "PM1" refers to a specific machine at the particular processing facility (or perhaps station?), mostly likely a Siemens AFCS2000, the functioning of which can be seen in a video here.

More on the National Association of Letter Carriers (NALC), Part One

Yes, I did spend real human money at the NALC online store, as promised, and got myself three mementos: a patch bearing the organization's logo plus two books. A part of me also wanted to purchase a "branch past president pin" for $10, just to see whether they would find out that I had never been a "branch past president" and refuse to ship it to me, but that would be too whimsical an experiment, and I am not an unduly whimsical person.

A patch, a more interesting book and one that is less so

The NALC Patch

Back to the patch. NALC's logo is as simple as the union's architectural taste, but apparently invokes within its ranks great pride and fondness. A postal employee in 1891 reported, upon the recent adoption of said symbol, that "the badges... have been received and the boys are highly delighted with them, and we're constantly being complimented on their beauty by the public." Whether letter carriers still wear them is a mystery to me, but I will make sure to intercept the mail lady next time she visits my apartment.

A History of the NALC

The second object is a physical copy of M. Brady Mikusko and E. John Miller's Carriers in a Common Cause, the somewhat official history of NALC, in its "125th anniversary edition." Given that it is available in its entirety online, a brief (at least brief-er than the 136-page long book) executive summary here should suffice:

1) 1775-1862, during which the Post Office was still an infantile and disorganized affair, and the carriers received no salaries but merely collected 2 cents from every letter delivered -- this sounds like a pretty decent living, until you recall that at the time most people went to post offices to collect their own mail rather than have it delivered to their doorsteps, which was not good for carriers' income security.

Another threat to said security is the spoils system, aggravated during the Jackson administration in the 1830s. Under this system many executive employees, including postmasters, their clerks and letter carriers, were hired, promoted, fired and replaced based on their partisan affiliation or personal relationship to superiors. Their career prospects were thus at the whims of partisan politicians, and there was no qualification requirement whatsoever.

2) 1863-1888, during which period three major changes affected the letter carriers: (a) as city delivery became a thing in 1863 (by which urbanites could receive and send letters at their residences, usually twice a day), local carrier associations began to develop in major cities like New York and Chicago, the first ever attempts at association; (b) the assassination of President Garfield in 1881 by a disappointed office seeker kicked start the famous civil service reform, culminating in the 1883 Pendleton Act that mandates competitive exams for those civil servants including letter carriers.

Moreover, (c) this period witnessed the first major clash between the Post Office Department and its carrier workforce -- when an 1868 law gave all federal "laborers, workmen and mechanics" 8-hour workdays, the Department deliberately exempted letter carriers from its coverage. Disappointed postal workers joined forces with the Knights of Labor, and with its foremost congressional ally Rep. Samuel S. Cox earned themselves the long overdue 8-hour days in 1888. Four years earlier, Cox had already persuaded his congressional colleagues to give all letter carriers 15 days of with-pay vacation each year. The 1880s was a pretty good time for American postal workers.

3) 1889-1901, a period with continual, but limited, success for postal workers. The NALC, the first national labor union for letter carriers, was organized in Milwaukee in 1889, and immediately proved itself in suing the Government over the Post Office Department's stubborn unwillingness to enforce its 8-hour workday policy. Coming out of the case victorious, the union soon threw itself into another struggle, this time against the "repugnant" practice of hiring postal spotters, whose sole responsibility was to spot and report every slight workplace mistake, often targeting union members and officers. Despite NALC's repeated protests, the system was only brought down by vocal opposition from the nation's newspapers, a sign of the organization's constrained resources.

This was further evidenced by its failure to realize any of its three top policy goals: (a) a uniform salary structure between big-city and small-town carriers; (b) minimum wages for substitute carriers, who had to be constantly on call for temporary and meagerly paid-for tasks; (c) guaranteed pension for carriers. Its plea to have carriers' wages generally raised also fell on deaf ears, and by 1900 letter carriers were making roughly half of that made by bricklayers.

4) 1902-1912, largely coinciding with the Theodore Roosevelt administration, was not too good a time for postal workers. In response to rising activism and unionizing amongst federal employees, Roosevelt issued in 1902 the so-called "gag order," forbidding all federal employees to petition members of Congress on legislative issues. Another executive order followed in 1906 to permit dismissal of federal employees without cause, while the Taft administration in 1909 further banned them from answering congressional requests for information about their working conditions.

This "Reign of Terror," as called by the NALC, ended in 1912 with the Lloyd-LaFollette Act and its two companion acts, lifting the gag order, mandating post office closure on Sundays, legalizing federal employee unionization and, at the same time, forbidding their affiliation to any union organization that advocates for labor strikes against the federal government. All in all, not too bad a trade-off.

5) 1913-1920, which witnessed the power dynamics between the letter carriers and their employers swing once more to strike the workers in their face like a pendulum. Albert S. Burleson, the Postmaster General appointed in 1913, vehemently opposed all progressive legislation passed in the previous era. The NALC managed to pass several federal acts on workplace injury compensation and equalization of pay, but its foremost objective of a letter carrier pension system would not be achieved without at least a few ugly incidents, most notably the 1915 Fairmont, WV protest, when an entire station resigned upon the sacking of one elderly colleague. The government responded swiftly by jailing and fining these workers, one of whom committed suicide in prison.

The carriers, of course, did not acquiesce so easily. Their earlier suspicions of those more powerful labor unions like the American Federation of Labor (AFL) turned to tolerance and support under those oppressive Burleson years, and the NALC finally assented to its affiliation with it in 1917, with 92% of its membership voting in favor. More coordinated and strengthened than ever, letter carriers lent its force to the AFL's campaign for workmen's pensions -- In 1920, Congress passed the Civil Service Retirement Act, finally offering annuities to some federal employees, including letter carriers, above the age of 65.

Sisters of the House (Ford and Longworth)

I apologize for the rather senseless title -- My barren imagination does not permit me to come up with anything cleverer. Anyways, earlier today I visited two more post offices in Washington, DC, namely Ford and Longworth, both located in a House (of Representatives) Office Building on the southern side of National Mall. A short distance away from those famous museums of Air & Space and Natural History, that part of town felt a lot quieter, probably it was a workday afternoon, confining those with more important things to do indoors. Past the Departments of Labor, Health and Human Services, and the post-office-less O'Neill House Office Building, I arrived at Ford a little before 3pm.

The Ford Branch

Front entrance to the Ford House Office Building, a solid-looking but rather charmless product of the efficient New Deal Era

Ford was the third to be built of all five House Office Buildings, in 1939. Unlike its two predecessors -- Cannon in 1908 and Longworth in 1933 -- it did not have a Beaux Arts or neoclassical facade, and unlike its two successors -- Rayburn in 1965 and O'Neill (rebuilt) in 2010 -- it lacked a sleek appeal. But this is to be excused: To accommodate the suddenly increased number of federal employees working on the various New Deal programs, Ford was one of the "General Federal Office Buildings" that valued utilitarianism more than appearance, and was built from scratch in under a year, thanks to some innovative architectural tricks such as mixing concrete in transit rather than on-site. 

The post office, located on the ground floor of Ford

During its tenure Ford housed the Census Bureau, the Office of Price Administration (created in 1941 to oversee rationing) and the FBI, until a growing House took over in 1975. It is now home to its many committees, the Congressional Budget Office, and the Architect of the Capitol (AOC), a peculiar legislative agency that maintains all congressional offices, the Supreme Court, and the Capitol itself. It also runs the Capitol Power Plant, its two chimneys clearly visible from the intersection of Independence and I-395. Why the Architect has not moved its office to a prettier architecture I might never know.

Back to my trip. As a congressional building, Ford's security measures were visibly more stringent than those of, say, the Department of Labor. I conclude so because I was asked to remove my belt, while the DoL guards were kind enough to save me such troubles. As a side-note, the Postal Museum also doesn't take kindly to belts (perhaps worried about people hiding gadgets in there to snatch its Z-Grill or an Inverted Jenny), which is probably the only reason why I don't visit as often as I would like. Nevertheless, past security my road to the post office was unobstructed, and I soon found myself standing in USPS Ford, right across the corridor from a staff cafeteria.

The nice lady offered to step aside for this photo

This station is small, with only one clerk. I deposited my letter in the collection box, waited for another customer to mail his Christmas greeting cards, and went up to buy a few stamps. I really didn't need any stamps at that moment, but thought it best to strike up some conversation with the clerk before snapping pictures around the station like an absolute weirdo. So I did, and asked for the latest "Love Series," featuring on its two variants cartoonish puppies and kittens. That's apparently not how people usually ask for stamps, as the nice lady immediately asked me why I knew exactly what they are called.

The postal store at Ford station

A little embarrassed, I explained that I was on a mission of visiting all DC post offices, and was quite interested in everything postal. She immediately told me about Longworth, her "sister station" that also serves the House, and permitted me to take photos to my heart's content. The back of Ford station also houses a small but cozy postal store, which reminded me of a little piece of history I read about -- once Cannon and Rayburn also had in-house post offices, the latter of which included a more sizable store. Both, plus a third branch located in the Capitol building, were closed in 2013 for "extremely low usage."

The Longworth Branch

From there I marched onward to Longworth, a much better-looking edifice with a similar belt-removing security policy. In fact, the Architect of the Capitol refers to it as "one of Washington's best examples of the neoclassical revival style" buildings, right up there with the National Gallery of Art and the Jefferson Memorial. Personally I would beg to differ, but its interior did pose a striking comparison with that of Ford. While the latter has plaster walls, shopping-mall style tiled floors and rather barren corridors, the former features marble floors, limestone walls and gilded wall-pieces that won't look out of place in an old-timey hotel. An article also talks of "congressional suites with pale blue leather couches [and] walnut desks," though I didn't have a chance to see for myself today.

The Longworth Building from across the street

Entrance to the Longworth post office

However, as the post office in Longworth is located on its basement level, I was able to get a glimpse of the underground tunnels that reportedly criss-cross Capitol grounds. I did not stray too far (although in hindsight I definitely could), but already saw two large cafes, a federal credit union office, several meeting areas and even a congressional staff academy. The Longworth post office itself is next to a narrow ramp leading to the neighboring Cannon Building, a connection as old as Longworth itself, built in 1933 to protect members and their staff from scorching heat in the summer and going up and down flights of stairs in all seasons.

Inside Longworth with other customers

The interior of Longworth station is still pretty cramped, but it seems to be enjoying greater usage than its sister office. This is understandable -- Longworth stands between Cannon and Rayburn, all interconnected, while Ford stands alone, is a good distance away from the other congressional offices, and is sorrily left out by aforementioned tunnels. But this explanation merely (or barely) scratches the surface -- Why did the House side have four post offices (one in each building) before 2013, while the Senate Office Buildings, on the opposite side of National Mall, had (and still have) nothing?

To this I have no concrete answer, merely theories. By all accounts there must be an internal delivery system in and around the Capitol -- A poster in the Longworth station instructs its staff to leave all franking mail (a special class of mail that may be sent out by congressional members and select others for free) in their offices, which I suppose would then be picked up by some special courier. Similarly, "dear colleague" letters, sent from one Representative to another, also must go through some sort of internal mail. A centralized scheme also exists with regard to incoming mail -- all mail is to be inspected at either a designated Acceptance Site or some off-site facility, so it is sensible to assume that such correspondence would then be distributed to their intended recipient by an in-house system. I might do some research and write a more in-depth article on this mechanism later. But for now, with both House branches out of the way, my crusade is about 10% complete.

The Beginning of a Postal Pilgrimage (Three Branches and NALC)

A Prologue of Sorts

So, the story began so -- Ever since my first visit to the Smithsonian National Postal Museum a few months ago, I have found postal history a marvelously captivating topic. Naturally it started with stamp collecting, which in my case involved buying packet after packet of random (and thankfully unsorted) American and foreign stamps from the Museum Shop. With it came hours of submerging stubborn stamps in plates of water, removing said stamps from the paper to which they were attached, drying them between sheets of paper, tucking them away into stockbooks and doing a bad job cataloging my unimpressive collection. 

Like a rookie of any trade, my curiosity expands more horizontally than vertically, and I found myself reading about postmarks, precancels and overprints before even owning a magnifying glass (a cardinal sin, I trust, to any self-respecting collector, but I swear I do have a very good tweezer). More enthusiastically I browsed history of the United States Postal Service (USPS), and went as far as creating an account for Wikipedia just to expand the entry on Elaine Rawlinson, whose simple but dignified design of a 1938 stamp featuring George Washington came to define the famous "Presidential Series". Point is, I probably got a bit lost in the postal realm, and was looking for a better charted course.

Fortunately some postal pioneer has done pretty much all the charting. Devin Leonard's Neither Snow Nor Rain: A History of the United States Postal Service (a lovely read) began with the story of one Evan Kalish, who was on a crusade to visit as many post offices in the US as possible. At first I brushed it off as a fun anecdote, a feat impossible to emulate, until a few days ago. I was staring at a map of all post offices in the DC area, and was confused by the several "carrier annexes" that don't appear to be publicly accessible. A quick Google search brought me to, guess where, Mr. Kalish's blog Postlandia, and an article of his that answers perfectly my question.

And so the stars aligned, prompting me to take advantage of the several weeks of semi-leisure ahead, and go on a postal pilgrimage of my own. I am to visit as many DC post offices as possible (provided that such does not interfere with my more important schedules), send a letter from each branch (hopefully with postmarks but only hopefully), and visit some other attractions along the way. Today was the day I set this plan in motion, and I thought I should write about it.

The National Capitol Branch

Equipped with three plain Caliber envelopes bearing my name, address, and the post office from which they were to be mailed, each carrying a slip of paper just for show (sending out empty envelopes felt like psychopathic behavior), I left home in early afternoon and headed straight to the Postal Museum -- more precisely USPS's National Capitol branch located in the same building. The Museum itself deserves a stand-alone article (or several), but the architecture warrants some mention here.

A corner of the "New Post Office Building" built in 1914, now housing the Smithsonian National Postal Museum. Entrance to the National Capitol post office is seen to the left.

Designed by Chicago architect Daniel H. Burnham (who sadly did not live to witness its completion), the building was completed in 1914 and opened for business on Sept. 14. Its Beaux Arts style closely approximates that of the Union Station, another brainchild of Burnham which had been completed seven years prior, and was quite a sight from afar. A lot of modern postal machinery was added to its interior in the mid-1950s, but the classical indoor decor continued to greet post-office-goers until 1971, when the magnificent ceiling was lowered, and marble walls lined by Formica counters. Today the Museum still looks back at its modernization with embarrassment, calling its renovated lobby an "architectural eyesore to many" before concluding how "modern doesn't always mean better".

Luckily, when mail volume in DC grew so large that not even this five-story behemoth could handle it, a new processing plant was built a few miles up north (now one of those carrier annexes that I should probably visit sometime) in 1986, and most postal operations were transferred there. With practicality no longer a concern, architects set out to convert the building back to its original state, and the Museum opened its doors on July 30, 1993. Some postal functions remained -- People of Judicial Square still needed to send letters and holiday greetings, after all -- but tucked away on the cavernous bottom floor, usually with more staff members than customers.

Entrance to the post office

Today I counted myself amongst said customers which, probably thanks to the Christmas-y spirit, numbered six or seven, surpassing the staff by three or four. I got myself twenty "snow globe" stamps, put one onto the envelope marked "National Capitol," and threw it into the collection box. A job well done.

But of course I could not walk away so nonchalantly without taking a few more looks around. There were a few enlarged stamp posters here and there, a shiny plaque dedicating this building "to public service" in 1992, but nothing explicit that screams (or whispers) its long history and glorious past, other than, perhaps, a side hall with P.O. boxes wall to wall -- They looked rather abandoned, and given the scarcity of customers I suspect they are but remnants of the past that proved too cumbersome to dismantle and remove, and were thus graciously left in place. Anyways, they appeared pretty ancient, and were quite fun to look at.

Post office lobby looking surprisingly well-lit in this photo. I should probably get a Santa Hat too.

P.O. boxes wall to wall

A few "Keyless Lock Company" boxes at the station

These very P.O. boxes you are now looking at drove me down a rabbit hole upon return, and here's what I found -- Some very similar-looking boxes (down to their star-shaped keyholes and etchings on all sides) are apparently for sale on eBay (what isn't?), and one seller is kind enough to mark them as products of a "Keyless Lock Company" in the 1950s. This catchy name has since been adopted by another, unrelated enterprise, but a website for safe bank collectors (I kid you not) tells me that the original KLC was organized in 1892 and soon became the leading keyless lock manufacturer in America, counting the Postal Service among its clients.

You might wonder, as I did too, why they are called "Keyless Locks" while having those really very conspicuous keyholes in the upper middle. Turns out said keyholes were a later addition -- Their original design features a knob in its place, which the user could turn to point at those alphabetical letters (A to J) on each "spike" of the star. Presumably patrons found it more challenging to memorize combinations than to keep tangible keys (given how often I resort to "Forgot your password?" I cannot blame them), and had them re-worked to accomodate. I should also note that these antique boxes aren't too expensive to come by ($65 for one plus its combination), I might actually get one and try it out.

The Union Station Branch

And we're getting off-topic. With the first job well done I marched across 1st St NW and headed into the Union Station. Its post office is located one ground below, obviously new by post office standards, and really not much to look at. I should probably have stayed a little while longer to get an ice-cream, a sandwich or some other snack from the many shops in the Station, but anxious to complete my intended triathlon of the day, I deposited the second envelope, snapped the photo below, and promptly left.

The Union Station branch. Say hi to the snowman -- and the lady behind the counter of course.

The Frances Perkins Branch

This rush of mine was, at least in part, driven by the worries that I would run into some troubles at the third station, which is located in the Department of Labor and aptly named after its 4th and longest-serving Secretary, Frances Perkins. I was imagining security checks, guards asking me what I am there for, me saying "to go to the post office" and them replying "use a civilian branch" or whatnot. In the end, the first three did happen, but their response was just an amused "okay" and, upon checking my ID and handing me a piece of paper permit, I was in the Frances Perkins building sending my third letter from the Frances Perkins branch.

Front entrance to the Frances Perkins building, but I had to use, naturally, the visitor's entrance

The Frances Perkins station, photo taken minutes after it closed for the day

Labor Day Stamp (1956)

To my surprise, this unassuming post office wasn't the only postal element there. There were three more: First was a panel of stamps featuring Perkins issued in 1980; second was a seal of the National Association of Letter Carriers (NALC), the foremost labor union for postal workers, hung on a wall alongside several other major labor organizations. Finally there was this enlarged 1956 commemorative stamp -- Its powerful design came from a mural called "Labor is Life" at the DC headquarters of the American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations (AFL-CIO), created by artist Lumen Martin Winter who also worked on the interior of United Nations General Assembly Building in New York City. Also open for me to roam around in was a large lecture hall with portraits of past Secretaries of Labor, but no coffee could be had as the small eatery behind reception was closed at the time.

The National Association of Letter Carriers

Either a supremely boring design or the pinnacle of simplicity.
Don't the birds look ominous?

I should also mention that, en route to the Department I passed the headquarters of NALC, which can best be described as a gigantic white slab with square windows. But I cannot wholeheartedly put my heart against this building as it is simultaneously so sublimely imposing that you can hardly ever erase it from your memory. There isn't much to say about it because I wasn't able to visit (yet), but the NALC does have an online shop where you can spend $85 on a podium seal. Although becoming its spokesman isn't in my career plan, I did find a few intriguing items, including such excitingly named publications as National Agreement Between NALC & USPS or Joint Contract Administration Manual. I will probably get the former and see what the deal is all about.

Still, not too bad for my first day as a self-proclaimed postal pilgrim. Hopefully those to follow would be as fruitful and, perhaps, when I get my letters I may see on them those circular thingies they call postmarks.