SUBSIDY RAIDERS.
Everybody who has studied the question at all knows that all alleged deficits in the postal service are the malformed progeny of an illegal union between crooked public officials and criminal violators of the law enacted to establish and govern the carriage and delivery of mail matter in these United States. So noticeable has been the closed eyes and “rear view” of government officials while the railroad and express raiders raided and walked off with their loot that petty thieves began to shin up the posts of the Postoffice Department directly or sneak in by way of Congressional legislation.
“What were they after?” Why, they wanted a “subsidy” for carrying foreign or ocean mails, or they wanted a “pork” contract—one of those contracts which renders little service for much money.
Did you ever hear of Tahiti? No. It is not a breakfast food nor a sure cure for cancers. It is an island. “Where?” Ask the Almighty. I don’t know, and I am doubtful whether the Almighty knows or cares. I know it is an island somewhere, because a few years ago the postal department entered into a contract with some “tramp” steamer flying a rag, which close inspection might discover had once been the American flag.
The Postoffice Department paid that tramp $45,000 for carrying our mails to Tahiti—a service that another vessel in the Tahiti trade offered to render for $3,500.
Can there be any legitimate surprise or wonder at a “deficit” resulting from such business methods?
But that, of course, was “a few years ago.” Yet, stay! On page 264 of the 1910 report of the Postoffice Department, I find that the Oceanic Line—a line of United States register—carried to and from Tahiti and the Marquesas Islands 7,622 pounds of letters and 159,483 pounds of prints. This was carried under a “contract” and the Oceanic people were paid $46,398 for the service—for carrying about 88 tons of mail matter.
Looks like a good “deficit” producer, does it not?
But there is another queer thing about this Tahiti mail contract. Note (1) on page 263, to which the report refers readers, says steamers of United States register not under contract are paid 80 cents a pound for carrying letters and 8 cents a pound for carrying prints. Figuring up the Oceanic’s service at those rates gives as result only $18,856.24.
So it can readily be seen there is something in a “contract”—some contracts, anyway.
On the same page (264), I find that another ship, one of the Union Line and under foreign register, touches at Tahiti in making New Zealand. It carried 2,713,850 grams (about 5,970 pounds) of letters and 58,926,887 grams (about 129,639 pounds) of prints—within 16 tons the weight the Oceanic people carried—and received only $7,781.54 for the service. These vessels of foreign register are paid about 35 cents a pound for letter weights and 4½ cents for print weight.
Figuring up the weights hurriedly at the named rates, I find that the Union folks were entitled to $7,923.40, or some $142 more than was paid them. The Oceanic folks, you will remember, were paid $46,398 when at open carriage rates of pay to vessels of United States register they earned only $18,856.24.
Looks a little off color, does it not? But we must remember that Tahiti is an island. Must be an island of vast importance. It requires the shipment of 88 tons of mail matter in a year—a whole year—and our government pays $46,398 haulage on it. Something over 79 of those 88 tons of mail was printed weight, too.
What great printers and publishers those Tahitians and Marquesans must be! Or was that print stuff of United States origin? Catalogues and franked and penalty matter, I wonder?
At any rate there is the “contract” in 1910 as an evidence that some one here is doing, or has done, a little turn toward “burning” postal revenues and helping, in a small way, to keep a postal “deficit” in evidence. A deficit, you know, shows that the revenues of the department are too low, too small, to permit the establishment of an efficient, cheap parcels post, or so the railroad and express raiders would have us think.
The important point, however, is: Are we fools enough to think it? If so, how long shall we continue to be fools enough to think it? If not, is it not about time that we created a disturbance—that we raise some dust—in efforts to let these raiders and their cappers know we are not fools? Why should we continue to act foolish if we are not fools? Please rise, Mr. Sensible Citizen, and answer.
As before said, no one expects nor desires the government to make money out of their mail service. People have, however, a right to expect—and to demand—that their regularly chosen representatives and other government officials prevent a lot of raiders, or any one else for that matter, from making more than a fair, legitimate profit on what they do for or contribute to that service.
There has been much talk the last three or four years about the economies effected by the Postoffice Department in the execution of the work it was established to do. How much of this talk is grounded on fact and how much of it is mere political gargle and party and administration “fan”-talk I shall not here attempt to say. Time has not permitted me to look into these averred economies carefully and thoroughly enough to warrant positive statements from me anent them here. I am inclined to believe, however, that the present Postmaster General, Mr. Hitchcock, and his immediate predecessors, Mr. Meyer and Mr. Cortelyou, have really accomplished a little in the right direction—a little, where the Lord knows we should know there was much to accomplish. But, as stated, my favorable opinion is not based on what I have dug up myself about these economies alleged to have been effected in the recently passed years. If they have been effected, their accomplishment only goes to prove that advocates of a cheap parcels post in this country have been right in their facts and arguments, and also that their exposures and severe condemnation of the waste, extravagance, grafting and stealing in the postal service were timely and well deserved.
Something, however, has, I think, been done. The exposure of criminal crookedness, grafting, waste and thievery which existed in the department—with administrative employes, officers, Congressmen and Senators, either directly or collusively connected with it—was bound to wipe some leaking joints in the service. The exposures uncovered so much porch-climbing and so much nastiness that most decent citizens were holding their noses and thinking of buying a gun. Something had to be done. The noise and injured-innocence “holler,” which railroad and express company raiders are vocalizing and printing, is pretty good evidence not only that some little has been done to them, but also that they fear more is going to be done to jam the gear or otherwise interfere with the smooth running of some one or more of their high-speed, noiseless-action cream separators. And more will be done if the people keep on the mat and keep swinging for the jaw and plexus. But it is not all done yet. The raiders may be squealing and squirming a little. They always do when a little hurt. But they are still busy—still actively after the cream. They may spar a little for time, but they will use the time actively in figuring out a new entrance into the people’s milk house.
And these raiders will find a way to get in, too, if the people pull up the blankets and let themselves be talked and foozled to sleep.