We are starting to work on a history of mail services at ACU including Abilene Christian College and Childers Classical Institute. We would like your information and stories about University Mail Services and its predecessor department, the Post Office.
We are looking for information on mail operations before 1968. Information about mail operations on campus before the Post Office moved into the Student's Exchange building after World War II is especially desired.
Please contact Scott Duncan at duncans@acu.edu or 325-674-2039 with information, stories or possible contact people. Thanks for your help!
From the January 31, 1929 issue of The Optimist, page 4:
Scene In Postoffice Is Vividly Described by Psychology Student
Next to Santa Claus, the postman is probably the most popular personage known, at least around college. But as it is with good old Saint Nick, what the postman brings is the most important thing. This can readily be seen by observing the mad scramble for mail at the Book Store. To a psychologist studying human behavior (or misbehavior) this would prove very interesting. Out of the mob he could make many distinctions in character, habits and mannerisms, and, by noting the facial expressions when letters are received and opened, he could learn many stories of love, disappointment and tragedy.
In the crowd a small fellow is trying to get nearer the front. He is not as big as some of those he is pushing ruthlessly aside, but he is lithe and athletic. From the speed in which he claws his way through the mass, it is plain that he has seen service on the gridiron. But suddenly he runs into something which is literally a "brick wall". It is of no stronger physical resistance than that offered by the boys but it stops him in his tracks. Four fair co-eds are standing with arm locked in arm and so weaved into the crowd that there is no getting around them. But this energetic young man, Zacheus-like, is determined not to have his plans frustrated. He turns at a right angle and plows his way parallel with the line of scrimmage. He climbs upon a bench and with a voice which makes up for his short stature he cries frantically: "K's, K's! Call the K's! I haven't had a letter from her since yesterday! All right, gang, all together—K's!!!"
Through the daily observations it would be found that a certain little girl with black curly locks would be found in the front line every time. In class or anywhere else on the campus she would be very coy and decorous, but when the mail is being handed out she is in the front ranks, jumping up and down like a Mexicon [sic] Jumping Bean, and, in contrast to her usual sedate manners, she calls in excitement: "C's, C's! Oh, please hurry, and call the C's."
The question most frequently asked on the campus is: "Has the mail come?" Surely those in charge of the Book Store have an unusual allotment of patience to answer this question hundreds of times each day. Some will go beyond this and ask: "Well why hasn't it?" Another will unburden upon the attendant all his troubles in correspondence and how long it has been since he has received a letter. It was suggested that the Book Store be equipped with a sign. On one side would be "The Mail Has Come", and on the other, "The Mail Has Not Come", but this plan was discredited. It was not deemed feasible because, if they did not fail to read the sign telling them that the mail has not come, they would usually blurt out, "Oh, the mail hasn't come yet?"
Someone once said that really to known people and observe their actions at home away from the eyes of the world. It would seem, however, that all that is necessary to determine the manners and behavior of a student is to study him while he is trying to get his mail.
From the December 4, 1930 issue of The Optimist, page 1:
Postoffice Plays Important Part In Lives of All College Students
A figure rushes into the bookstore, roughly elbows his way to the mail boxes, stands on tiptoe or stoops as the case may be, and gazes hopefully through the little glass door. A sorrowful look settles on his face and a sigh escapes his lips as he stalks gloomily out the door, “No mail today.”
This scene is enacted and re-enacted many time each school day. Just about as often, however, a cheerful smile spreads itself over some countenance, and instead of stalking gloomily out the door, the lucky one steps jauntily out with a letter or two, and sometimes a package.
The postoffice is indeed a place of the highest importance to all students and ranks about second to the dining hall. What could the student do, without the postoffice where he gets his letters from home, from friends, lovers, bills, circulars, and packages with cake and candy in them?
No less than twelve hundred letters are handled each day, according to the postmistress, Mrs. Mary Ann Hodgkiss. About six hundred of that number go out and about the same number come in. During the month of November, stamps worth $166.67 [were sold, but this] was poor—the usual run is about $200. Thirty-three C.O.D. packages were bought at Station A and that were sent out from the station, twenty registered letters, and thirty-one money orders were issued and fourteen were cashed. One hundred seventy five ordinary packages were sent out.
The number of incoming packages is far greater than those going out; however, no figures are available as no record of them is kept.
Girls receive more mail than boys, and freshmen girls more than any others. This seems to be an indication that the love affairs at home die out after the first year and that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” for somebody else. There is also more mail received during the early part of the session than the latter part which points to the same old proverb with the modern meaning attached.
Numerous have been the threats to turn boxes back on account of no mail being received, but these threats are of little avail, because when Uncle Sam gets box rent money, it just isn’t refunded. In other words, it’s not being done.
Students have one fault that is complained of, and that is, coming in after postoffice hours and wanting packages. And sometimes, when a good-looking girl begs and pleads for her package, she gets it—but she has to be exceptionally good-looking.
