Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1935-06-30

1T IS a quarter of 9 am. in the
CITY Post Office near Union Sta
ton. Outside street cars, BUSES,
i taxicabs and private AUTOMOBILES
most Of them packed to the over
flowing point. are disgorging passen-
gers. Inside on the ground floor, ele-
vators are creaking under an unpre-
cedented weight of jostling men,
women and children. Upstairs on the
third floor, hundreds of other persplr-
ing humans are all but fighting tnelr
way into large room.
If YOU were on hand you would be
convinced that something like three
ring circus must be going on. Nor
would YOU be far wrong. For this
is probably one of the weirdest spec
tacles Washington has ever seen. 1t
an auction saie-a sale of the dead.
Washington is headquarters for a
peculiar branch of the postal service,
the Division of Dead Letters and Par
eel Post. Twice year it maintains
one-day sale of thousands OF I'M
claimed or wrongly addressed packages
that have been sent in to the local
ofice from subdivisions in the Dis
trict, Maryland, Virginia. West VIZ
pinia and North Carolina.
Unbelievable merchandise posted as
ordinary parcel post matter and tnat
found loose is retained for period OF
two months awaiting reclamation. In
sured and C. o. D. matter is retained
for six months, and registered matter
for one year.
AT THE expiration of the official
period of detention. the parcels
are removed from the files, stripped
Of their original wrappers, CLASSIFIED,
assembled in lots, catalogued and dis
posed of to the public by auction.
But let's go inside and see what's
happening. All right. You're in a
room that in good many ways re-
eembles q combination of an old-tlme
country school house and a nickelo-
deon of dads day and age. Except
that there are no blackboards and
no movie screens However, there Is
q platform in the rear and to your
extreme right as you enter. It's an
improvised affair, consisting simply
Of two desks terched informally on top
of a couple of thicknesses of board.
Right now three workmen are arrang-
ing these.
Directly facing you are IL enormous
windows. They're all open since It s
0 sitting day, overcast with black
clouds. Six electric fans are whirring
away. But their slight buzzing sound
Is virtually drowned out by loud
hum Of conversation. On the side
wall to your left is a big clock. Under
meath is sign, mo smoking" The
high ceiling Is white and all walls
are of q pastel shade of yellow.
You guess there must be 800 people
In the room. Probably close to 25o
of them are seated in folding camp
chairs arranged in two rows, six seats
to q row. The others are standing
They're fidgeting around good bit
And no wonder. There's hardly an
inch of extra space. A friendly-look-
Ing white ha1red man, certainty not
much over feet tall, brushes past
you. Somehow he looks important
So you ask: do you know anything
about this?" --..
He smiles. "I ought to. I'm In
charge" It seems that he's B. G
Cowles, superintendent Of the Posi-
once Departments division OF deac
packages and letters.
Excuse me for the moment. I've
rot to get this thing started. But
you're free to look around. I'll be
dashing about or stationed at the
platform ell day long"
You examine the occupants OF two
OF the rear rows of chairs. Every
element Of society is represented here
the rich, the poor, the high, the
low and the "in-betweens." The ex-
treme back row contains q man in
his early thirties, obviously OF Latin
extraction, wearing ioad green shirt
and q blazing red tie; q gum -chew-
ing schoolboy Of about 10: q plump
ish woman who might be his mother;
0 bespectaeled, studious appearing