That happened to me a couple of weeks ago during a brief visit to Washington, D.C. Our trip included a stop at the Smithsonian’s National Postal Museum at 2 Massachusetts Avenue, N.E., across the street from Union Station. Housed in the old main post office, a neo-classical monument constructed in 1914, the museum has an engaging lineup of exhibits, including an old Star Route horse-drawn wagon, some cool mail delivery trucks, an early mail airplane hanging overhead, and, of course, thousands of stamps.
But none of that was at the top of my agenda. Instead, I headed directly to the southeast corner of the exhibit hall, where a familiar shape beckoned. It was what appeared to be the shell of a heavyweight Railway Post Office car, sans running gear, painted Pullman green and lettered for the Southern Railway.
The exterior of the car is a replica, and a very abbreviated one at that, substantially shorter than a typical RPO. Norfolk Southern financed its construction several years ago. As replicas go, it looks authentic, right down to its rivets and handbrake wheels. But it’s what’s inside that really counts.
That’s where I found my old friend. The interior of the RPO is the real deal, a dazzling array of mail slots, pigeonholes, mail bags, and storage bins, the classic tools of the clerks of the Railway Mail Service. My reaction to seeing it again after nearly 45 years was very personal — and therein lies a tale.
So we decided to go shopping. On a hot summer day, three of us drove the 55 miles down to Battle Creek where, outside its shops, Grand Trunk Western had a long line of cars for sale, rendered surplus by the advent of Amtrak a few months before.
We were tempted to buy a baggage car, of which there were plenty. Streamlined and roomy, the bags were not that old and offered maximum interior flexibility. But then we spotted a pair of 60-foot heavyweight RPOs, numbered 9683 and 9695. We saw all those mail slots and drawers and all that counter space and decided “this is the car.” Never mind it was built by Pressed Steel Car Co. way back in 1914.
We bought it on the spot: $500, F.O.B. East Lansing. A few weeks later a GTW local dropped the car off at the junction at Trowbridge, after which a C&O switcher came out from Lansing to park it next to the 1225. (The other RPO in Battle Creek, 9695, later ended up in the collection of the Illinois Railway Museum.)
So what’s RPO 9683 like today? It’s worth a visit, certainly. The interior looks pristine, lovingly restored by museum professionals, although some of the cabinetry has been repositioned as a concession to the smaller size of the car body. There is minimal signage to explain the role of the RPO, but a short video continuously plays with interviews of RPO clerks who once worked on Southern trains out of D.C. Their colorful stories and humorous explanations of jargon give the exhibit life.
I also noticed that the old letter slots, once labeled for such GTW locations as Battle Creek, Flint, and Port Huron, now say Alexandria, Culpeper, and Danville. Norfolk Southern’s prerogative, I suppose, since it paid for the restoration.
There are railroad museums that provide a richer perspective on the history of the RPO. The Illinois Railway Museum, for instance, occasionally operates its Burlington heavyweight RPO/baggage car and demonstrates catching mail on the fly. In Sacramento, the California State Railroad Museum has a beautifully complete Great Northern RPO, usually staffed by a knowledgeable docent.
My visit with what’s left of the 9683 didn’t last long. I wouldn’t call this a complaint, but I couldn’t help but notice that a small sign inside the car gave full credit to NS and the MRPS, with nary a mention of the MSU Railroad Club. I suppose the average visitor wouldn’t care. But let the record show that, once upon a time, some scruffy college kids plunked down $500 and made all this possible.
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