Rebekah Sheats
Contributor
Well, we’ve officially entered the fourth quarter of 2022. As this year begins to draw to a close, let’s pause a minute and take a look at what was happening in our hometown ninety years ago.
Nine decades ago, Jefferson County was struggling through the difficult days of the Great Depression. The federal government made many changes during this time, but one of them directly affected little Monticello in a very real way. In fact, the effects of a 1931 act of Congress are still being felt in our town to this day. According to this act, post offices across the nation were permitted to close their doors for a half-holiday each week. The day of the week on which this holiday would occur was left to the discretion of individual branch offices. Postmasters could put this half-holiday into effect whenever they thought a lack of business warranted a temporary closing.
In Monticello, the choice was easy. For many years, local businesses had closed their doors each Thursday afternoon during the summer months. Monticello postmaster Emerson Ridgeway decided it was only sensible for the post office to close during these same hours as well. He therefore issued a notice to Jefferson County residents in April of 1932, informing them of the upcoming change.
“Beginning Thursday, May 5, 1932, the local post office will close at 1:00 p.m. for the remainder of the day,” he explained. “It is believed that adequate service may be rendered prior to the time of proposed closing at 1:00 p.m. each Thursday.”
For residents concerned with the delivery of their mail on Thursdays, Ridgeway assured them, “There will be no suspension of the city delivery service on Thursday afternoon; the regular deliveries will be made by the employment of duly qualified substitute carriers.”
Back then (as now), Jefferson County residents took mail delivery very seriously. Even as the post office began to close on Thursdays, extra steps were being taken to ensure the timely delivery of outgoing mail. Edward Clayton, a Monticello resident and an officer in the local American Legion, began a new mail service in April 1932. In addition to the regular train connections that previously delivered the mail, Clayton began to haul mail to Drifton at night, where he loaded the sacks onto trains headed to Jacksonville and Pensacola. This extra trip meant that Monticello’s outgoing mail reached its destination a full day earlier than had previously been possible. Residents could now drop their letters at the post office any time before 8:30 p.m., and the mail would be placed on an outgoing train that very evening.
This mail delivery was contingent on the smooth running of the trains. Generally, this wasn’t an issue. Monticello had its fair share of wrecks in 1932, but most of them involved automobiles, not trains.
Perhaps the stickiest wreck of the year took place in May. A large truck loaded with a cargo of peanut butter was heading east through Monticello on Highway 90. All went well until it crossed the train tracks. Apparently the unevenness of the pavement upset the truck, and it overturned on the highway. No one was injured, but the peanut butter sustained damages. Did the schoolchildren volunteer to clean up that mess? History is silent on the matter.
Another wreck made headlines that same year. It involved the Blue Bus, a bus service that carried passengers to cities and towns along its route between Jacksonville and Pensacola. The wreck happened at night.
Jefferson County officials had earlier complained about the lack of an ordinance requiring motorized vehicles to employ proper lighting at night. But insufficient lighting wasn’t an issue in this case. A Mr. Blue from Perry was driving along Highway 90. Since it was after nightfall, Blue had his headlights on when he noticed a vehicle in the ditch. He offered to pull the car out with his Chevrolet.
Blue had just completed this kind act and gotten back into his Chevrolet when the passenger Bus appeared around the bend. Blue’s car was positioned perpendicular to the road, with its front wheels on the pavement. Grabbing a flashlight, Blue waved it at the bus in an attempt to slow the oncoming vehicle. Whether the driver didn’t notice the flashlight or whether he thought it unimportant is unknown, but the bus didn’t slow down.
Fortunately, Blue realized the bus wasn’t stopping and jumped out of his car before the collision occurred. No one was injured in the wreck, but Blue’s vehicle was “almost completely ruined,” according to a report issued after the crash.
Coming back to our present day, there are a few pieces of advice we can glean from these stories from 1932:
First, if you pull a car out of the ditch, be sure not to park your vehicle on the road lest a Greyhound bus plow into it.
Second, if you’re hauling a truckload of peanut butter, be sure to slow down for the railroad crossings.
Third, if you’re planning to mail a package, be sure you don’t do it on a Thursday afternoon. We may be nine decades away from 1932, but the post office still closes early that one day a week. Some things never change.
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