The Postman Cometh

This morning a little after 6 am I took out the Speedmaster to downtown Placerville (pop: 11,000). There I got a cup of coffee and took a seat at the site of the old blacksmith shop where John M. Studebaker built wheelbarrows over a century ago. There’s a marker in the courtyard of the Bagel Works commemorating this fact.

John Studebaker was not the reason for my visit, but it’s worth recalling his connection to Placerville and the California Gold Rush. He was born in Pennsylvania and came out to California as a young man seeking his fortune in the gold fields. It didn’t take him long to realize the real path to riches lay not in mining for gold but in selling supplies to the gold miners. So he began building wheelbarrows right where I was drinking my coffee, and eventually amassed enough money to launch what would become one of the country’s largest, longest-lived, and most successful independent automobile manufacturers: The Studebaker Corporation. This is probably a good time for a brief clip of my friend Bill’s 1941 Studebaker Commander, which is still moving under its own power after 81 years. It’s a goal I hope to achieve myself in 20 years.

But back to this morning: I sat there with my coffee, waiting for the mail to be delivered. And this wasn’t just any mail delivery: This was a special delivery by the Pony Express. The Pony Express, you’ll remember, was created right about the same time that John Studebaker was building his wheelbarrows. The Pony Express carried US Mail from St. Joseph, MO to Sacramento on horseback, in only 10 days. It covered a route of 190 ten-mile segments, with fresh horses being supplied at each segment, and riders being changed about every 10 segments. (Some of the old Pony Express stations are still standing; I’ve been to a few of them in my travels, including the Pony Express Cafe in Eureka, Nevada, as I discussed briefly here.)

The Pony Express only lasted about a year and a half (from the spring of 1860 to the fall of 1861). It went bankrupt a month or two after the first transcontinental telegraph was established. But the Pony Express remains a romantic (or romanticized) part of the Old West.

So what does any of this have to do with this morning? Well, it seems that the good folks at the National Pony Express Association annually re-create the Pony Express ride–24 hours per day for 10 days. This morning the rider was scheduled to be coming through downtown Placerville a little before 7 am. When I got there, a small number of people were milling about, as though they were waiting for the world’s smallest parade. Seriously, this was not a well-attended event, but perhaps that’s because anyone living in this general area would probably opt instead to be present for the final moments, when the rider comes into Old Sacramento this afternoon.

Most of the people were wearing distinctive red shirts and leather vests–the uniform of the National Pony Express Association. But I also spotted a few civilians such as myself. The mood wasn’t exactly raucous, but clearly these hardy souls shared an interest in history and/or horses. Adding to the mood was the backdrop of 19th-century buildings on Placerville’s Main Street.

And then suddenly, without warning, the mailman arrived.

Then the mail bag (“mochila”) was transferred to a waiting rider, and the mail was back on its way. It was all over in less than a minute.

There’s something compelling, in this age of texting, email, and on-demand media access, to see old-timey, flesh-and-blood communication mechanisms at work. I certainly would not argue that the Pony Express was superior to modern communications; heck, it wasn’t even superior to the telegraph. But it does represent a spirit and energy that seems to be in short supply these days. And that’s why this afternoon I’m going to be raising a pint to the young men who rode for the Pony Express.