The Wallace Street Journal
By DAVID BOND
Of Post Offices
WALLACE — The usual grousing and snuffling greeted the Post Office's —
excuse me, Postal Service's — announcement late last month that the price of
mailing a domestic first-class letter was going up by a penny, from 45 cents
to 46 cents.
Talk about a death by 1,000 (paper) cuts. This is stupid policy. Every
time the rate goes up a little bit, which is fairly frequently, the choir
gnashes its teeth.
Comedian Leo Gallagher — he's the guy who smashes watermelons during his
routine — had a skit about the Post Office back in the 1980s that always gave
a chuckle. I am paraphrasing here (and remember this was three decades ago,
so adjust for inflation):
“Let me get this straight. You're going to come all the way up to my
house's front porch, pick up a letter I've written, carry it all the way
across the country and deliver it to the front porch of a friend of mine
3,000 miles away, for a quarter?”
Seemed like a good deal back in the 1980s, and at 46 cents in this
pre-inflationary apocalypse, it seems like an even better deal. Too good of a
deal, in fact, which is why the Postal Service is chronically short of funds
and the butt of jokes.
Last I checked, which was yesterday, it costs about $705 to fly coach from
Spokane to Newark and back, if you wanted to deliver that letter yourself.
Add in gas to the Spokane airport, and a bus trip from Newark to New York,
and you're in for a grand.
A little history is in order. The Post Office, a pet of Ben Franklin's,
was first authorized by the second Continental Congress in 1775, with
Franklin as its first Postmaster. The intentions of its founding were clear:
It would permit the free circulation of ideas amongst the citizens of the
states, and it was supposed to generate revenues for the Federal Government.
The Postmaster remained a Cabinet-level officer until Richard Nixon gutted
the original Post Office act and, with the compliance of the United Snakes
Congress, replaced it with the Postal Service following a strike by postal
workers in 1970.
I do not recall the reasons for the 1970 strike (I was 19 years old at the
time) but the consequences of it were dire.
And we're feeling it now. No Saturday mail, more contract workers than
actual employees. And the price of a stamp inches up a penny at a time.
This is haywire. I'm with Gallagher. Sending a letter from one coast to
the other for less than 50 cents is a better deal than a shopping spree at
Wal-Mart and one heck of a lot better (and $700 cheaper) than flying coach on
Delta to accomplish the same mission.
Canada did away with Saturday mail delivery while I was still in nickers,
which the U.S. Postal Service is now proposing to do, and nobody lost their
shorts over it.
What is really worrisome, with this semi-private, semi-governmental agency
in charge of our mail, is its upcoming drive to close our local Post Offices
in Wallace, Mullan, Kellogg, Kingston, and places in between because they're
still losing money.
The window at our local Post Office is the only interaction most of us
have with the U.S. Government that is still pleasant. You meet your
countrymen there, and the transactions you desire are processed with
friendliness and dispatch. Conversations ensue. Wallace's late dowager, Miss
Nancy Lee Hanson, used to complain — with a smile — that the longest trip she
took every day was the one-block walk she took every day to the Wallace Post
Office, because of all the folks she had to visit with.
Yes, email and the Internet have replaced much of the Post Office's
traditional functions. I pay most of my bills on-line. But there is no
substitute for a snail-mailed birthday or Christmas card, or a hand-written
letter from a cherished friend or relative. These are little paper gifts that
will not crash your computer or strip your life of privacy. They have been
touched by someone we love.
So here is my advice to the People In Charge: Restore the Post Office to
its proper role as a Cabinet-level function. Charge one-tenth of 1 percent of
the airfare from Wallace to New York — 70 cents, for a first-class stamp.
(Heck, raise it to a buck!)
Ben Franklin inveighed against inflation. But, thanks to the United Snakes
Federal Reserve Bank, inflation is a fact of our lives. In 1775, Franklin's
time, it cost 10 cents to mail a half-ounce letter across country. That's the
equivalent of $14 today. By comparison, 50 or 70 cents is a great deal, you
ask me, and certainly better than spending 16 hours on one of Delta's stinky
airplanes.
