Editor’s note: This story appeared in the Brown County Democrat Jan. 13, 1955 and was written by Henry Swain Jr.

The next time you walk down for your mail, take a good look at the old mailbox.

When you pull open the lid does the post shimmy and wobble? Does it lean over backwards like a farmer pulling up his team, or does it tip forward as though watching for the mailman to come around the bend? Does the flag still wave? Is the lid still on?

Perhaps it doesn’t matter much to you what shape the old box is in just as long as it holds your mail.

We should take special pride in our mailboxes though. For here in Brown County, five out of every six persons — more than in any other county in the state — receive the mail through rural free delivery.

If you are waiting for the mail carrier to straighten up your box or the county road men to fill in that deep rut that swings into it, better take a look at the postal law. It says the one who receives the mail is required to furnish the box, keep it in repair with the name and the route number on it. It also states you must maintain an adequate approach to reach the box so it can be served without the carrier leaving his car.

Perhaps you think it wouldn’t hurt the carriers to get out of their cars once in a while, but the minute they do their insurance is dead. The reason? Too many carriers are dead from having stepped out in front of a speeding car.

On sunny spring mornings when you wave at the mailman as he drives away from your box, you may think he has just about the softest job there is and wonder how he managed to be so lucky to get it. But like all jobs, the carrier has his “other days” too.

Even on a good day our four mailmen open and slap shut some 700 out of a total 809 boxes in the county, and that is a lot of wrist and back work for anybody.

Our carriers total up more than 200 miles a day, most of it on the back roads. As route four driver George Howard says, “You go up some of these hollows just as far as you can stick a knife, and there is a house and a mailbox.”

Just ask any carrier about the thaw in March 1951 if you think his job is a snap.

There were five days route three driver Bill Robertson could not make his Hamblen run. He wore out three sets of chains that winter and kept them on 21 days in a row. Bill carried as standard equipment in his car a shovel, ax, tow chains, car chains, two jacks and numerous wood blocks. Several times he had to chop trees out of the road to get by.

This hazard is increasing as more elm trees die each year. But even with this array of equipment he sometimes has to be towed and some ungrateful patrons charge for it.

That same memorable thaw George Howard got hung up seven times in one day. After that he talked to Rex Thompson into running the mail with him in Rex’s pickup truck. When they came to a bad place George would get out and chart the best course through the mud hole. Rex would hit it as fast as he could and they usually got through, but even then they matted down once — then the tractor as well that came to pull them out.

Most of the carriers agree that ice is the worst worry on their runs. Next comes high water. Some of these slab crossings run deep enough at high water to completely cover a car if it is washed off the lower side. When you approach one of these muddy torrents it is easy to recall the time two men drowned in Salt Creek when their car was washed a half mile downstream.

George, whose 38 years on the run takes him back to the horse and buggy days, had a couple of experiences with the high water. The first time, the horse swam on out with the buggy hanging downstream behind them.

The other time was a Model A above Gnaw Bone. Stranded in the middle of the creek, George looked up to see a big log rushing down the current straight for his car. Climbing out on the hood, he kicked the end away clearing the car, but the rest of the log swung around broadside against it. The log acted as a dam and the water began to suck under the car washing the gravel from under the wheels so that he could feel it settling slowly into the water. Blowing the horn finally rousted Toby Kirts who waded out as far into the current as he dared and caught the mail sacks George threw to him. Wading back again he caught George’s hand as he jumped from the hood of the car.

They got Tom Henderson’s big team and wagon from nearby and managed to get close enough to the car to get a tow rope attached. By this time the car, still upright, had washed about 100 feet downstream, but with skillful maneuvering, they were able to get it out.

Of course, George had one of those “soft” mail carrier jobs, so he didn’t say much about it.

To be continued in the next issue of your Brown County Democrat.

Submitted by Pauline Hoover, Brown County Historical Society Inc.