Wisconsin Stories is a partnership of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin and Wisconsin Public Television.

Tracy 

Will: tonight, a special delivery of Wisconsin stories. Rural Free Delivery ends the isolation of Wisconsin farm life. A community fights for its post office and its identity. Mail order catalogs bring a cornucopia of consumer goods to the countryside. And an Iowa postmaster puts Limburger cheese on trial-- on Wisconsin Stories.

Major funding for Wisconsin stories is provided by the mead Witter foundation, Inc. Wisconsin rapids, Wisconsin. Additional funding is provided by the Halbert and Alice Kadish foundation Philip j. And Elizabeth b. Hendrickson and an advised fund of the community foundation of southern Wisconsin.

At the turn of the last century mail carriers used horses and sleighs, like this one  to deliver mail to rural areas. Hi, I’m Debbie Kmetz. And I’m Tracy Will. For a long time, the mail was one of the few connections to the outside world. That made the small-town post office a vital community center. Everybody stopped by to pick up their mail. Later on, Wisconsin mail could arrive by boat by motorcycle, even by dog sled. The post office and the way mail was delivered are woven into the fabric of Wisconsin history. Tonight, we'll hear tales of the mail on Wisconsin Stories.

Will: at the turn of the 20th century most people in Wisconsin lived in the countryside. In this slow-paced and often isolated world, farmers might spend most of a morning driving their wagon to town to buy supplies and stop at the post office to pick up their mail.

At the same time, in the bigger cities mail carriers delivered mail directly to people's homes every day. And farmers, who paid the same for stamps as city people began to lobby for the same level of service. After a long political battle, the postal service established several experimental rural routes. And in 1896, selected sun prairie, Wisconsin to try out rural free delivery, or "RFD". The first rural carriers were hired from the local community. And so, as friend and neighbor they often hauled supplies from town, did odd jobs and shared the news heard along the route. Plodding along dirt roads they carried their post office with them selling stamps and post cards registering letters and money orders. Eagerly awaited, and highly popular they often found a cup of coffee or a piece of cake in the mailbox. Once this service began, there was no turning back. Farmers demanded, and soon received RFD routes across most of Wisconsin. In 1954, Edward Allen of radio station w-d-o-r in sturgeon bay interviewed William "Buck" Arle who began work as an RFD carrier in 1904. 

Edward Allen: Buck has consented to come to the studio to tell us about the early days of the RFD. Bill, tell us a little bit about the old days. 

Buck Arle: okay, ed. By 1901, this service reached door county. And regular rural routes, of an average length of 24 miles were established. That mileage was considered a full day's work with a horse-drawn vehicle. 

Allen: i bet that would be, too. 

Arle: it would. Yes, it was. 

Allen: 24 miles, that's pretty good going. 

Arle: now, the salary of the rural carriers was $600-$720 per annum. These salaries included the furnishing of all necessary equipment consisting of horses, buggies, cutters and some covered wagons built especially for this rural delivery service. 

Allen: you mean, bill, that the post office supplied the horses, wagons and everything? 
Arle: no, the carrier had to supply that out of his salary. 

Allen: he didn't have much left? 

Arle: at that time, it was considered a pretty good salary. The roads, at that time, were ordinary dirt roads. With these dirt roads in summer and snow-bound roads in winter rural carriers had some trying experiences in performing their duties, as can well be imagined. 

Allen: I bet they did. 

Arle: in the "looking back" column of the advocate of the "news of fifty years ago" just recently, it describes the cold weather of that January 1904. Which averaged 21½ degrees below zero for a period of three weeks. 

Allen: Boy, did the mail get through? 

Arle: it got through, it did. I can remember-- well remember that. But in those days, we had real old-fashioned winters and were accustomed to taking things in their stride. And as for snow-- after a severe snowstorm and blizzard it took days to get some of the roads open for traffic. I remember, after one of these big snow blizzards no farmers would come to town for about a week. And finally, the mail carrier got through. They knew the road was open and then come to town to do their shopping. 

Allen (laughing): That was pretty good-- a pretty good test, wasn't it? 

Arle: some roads drifted so full of snow that they were impassable. And nearly everyone who drove carried wire clippers so that they could cut the fences and take to the fields, or woods, in some cases to get through these places that remained closed all winter. 

Allen: What did the farmers think about this wire-clipping? 

Arle: They never kicked-- they all did it, themselves. 
(Allen laughs)

Arle: you sometimes hear people longing for the "good old days" but I’m sure when they refer to those "good old days" they don't mean going back to the old roads we had in those days. 

Allen (laughing): well, i guess not. 

Will: with the success of RFD the postal service began closing many of the small rural post offices in door county and the rest of Wisconsin-- a process that has continued through the years.

Woman: Hi. Here's more business. What seems to be the trouble here you don't have your key today? Nope. All right. Let me see if i can get my key for you and get it open. That's one nice thing. You don't have to remember your key all of the time. 

Kmetz: in some small towns one of the community's most important cultural centers is the post office. June Carroll: I’ve been at the post office for a little over 13 years. I like the job. Do you? It's very nice, yeah. 

Kmetz: it's a social institution that helps keep the town identity alive. Rural America has depended upon the post office. And in Hanover, Wisconsin, population about 250 it still does. The post office has been part of the community since before the civil war.

Hanover is a small village outside of Janesville. Once a farming community, it is now also a commuter town. But even as the character of the village has changed one thing remains the post office with the name "Hanover." when rural free delivery started in 1908 farmers could have their mail delivered to their house. But some refused the service. Picking up the mail at the post office gave them a reason to go into town. And Hanover was bustling.

But in 1943 Hanover lost its postmaster. And then, the U.S. Postal Service decided to close Hanover’s office. The town residents raised a ruckus and Elda E stepped in. She owned a grocery store and petitioned to become postmaster. Dwayne Van Keuren, former town chairman lived across the street. If you saw somebody you wanted to talk to well, you had a good excuse to go over there and sit on the bench on the front porch and talk to them. What kind of stuff did you talk about? Oh, everything-- things in town or things we've been doing or whether we wanted to play cards that night or whether we were going to have a dance up at the town hall. Were those good days? Very good, very good.

Kmetz: In the I, however, Hanover began to change. Elda: earlier on i knew everybody. And you know, everybody-- they were more friendly. Now, there's very few people i know down there.

Kmetz: as in other places, with the population shift from the rural, to urban and suburban areas consolidation became a common practice. Many small towns lost their schools, churches and post offices. Change became more dramatic when train service stopped, and a new highway bypassed the town. One of the biggest threats to a small post office like Hanover’s is producing revenue. During the 1980s, about 30 Wisconsin communities lost their post offices because they were not profitable. Hanover was again put on the chopping block. Citizens rallied once more but it was a long fight starting with a petition sent to Madison. Who organized the petition? (laughs) 

Guess. Me. It was you. 

Kmetz: throughout the T, residents of Hanover continued to fight absorption into the Janesville or O rural mail routes. And they've held onto one of the last institutions with the name "Hanover." there aren't any of us who would like to see the post office closed. We want to keep it; that's our identity. I think we all get used to things, you know. And i think they think it's handy for them to get stamps and mail things. 

Kmetz: why has Hanover kept its post office? Because we fought so hard to keep it. Did you? That's the only reason that i know of. We wrote letters and got on everybody's back that we could think of. We made ourselves obnoxious to everybody. So, they figured, "we better let them keep it." hi, there. How are you? I want some pretty stamps. 

Kmetz: in 1986, the  U. postal service decided to continue mail service in the form of a community post office. Today, Hanover has no official postmaster instead, a contract employee, June Carroll offers postal service in her home. It's going to storm tonight, you know... 

Kmetz: Hanover has retained its zip code and more importantly, its name.

Will: with the introduction of rural free delivery farmers could receive small packages, as well as mail. In 1913, the post office added a new service-- parcel post-- which allowed farmers to order larger, heavier items through the mail. It was an instant success. Now, farm families had access to the same array of goods their city neighbors enjoyed ordered through a thick catalog that many called "the wish book." or the "home-sitter's bible." Dave D: catalogs offered a tremendous array of household products, firearms, sporting goods farm equipment... You name it-- you could buy it through the catalog. I'm at the state historical society's museum’s collection storage with Dave Driscoll. And Dave’s the curator of business and technology at the state historical society. How did catalogs get started? There's a connection, basically to the 19th century farm crisis. In the post-civil war era, there was a drastic drop in commodity prices which created a lot of economic distress on American farms. 

Will: In response to that crisis farmers in the early 1870s banded together to form an organization called the national grange of the patrons of husbandry. Driscoll: one of the reforms that the grange was pressing was kind of eliminating the middleman. They could put consumers directly in contact with manufacturers they could acquire goods at considerably less expense. 

Will: The grange movement and direct buying resulted in the first mail order catalog sent to rural residents. Soon after, the Montgomery ward mail order company was founded to tap into that new market. Driscoll: you want to know what your horse blanket is going to look like you want a nice color-version. 

Will: before rural free delivery farmers had to pick up their catalogs and packages at the local post office which was often located in the general store. And store owners, who often served as postmasters were not happy with their rural customers shopping by mail. Driscoll: the merchants in the small towns were very upset by these outside retailers who were undercutting them and essentially, destroying their business. Furniture-- chairs, tables, suites, cribs. You have to order their special tombstone catalog. 

Will: catalog goods also homogenized American taste by offering the same goods and styles across the country. And this wide selection soon brought new social issues to rural America. Driscoll: you could show up to church on Sunday wearing a new store-bought dress as opposed to a home-made dress. It told your neighbors that you had a disposable income. And rather than wearing your costume that might mark you as a polish immigrant you'd wear a good old American suit. 

Kmetz: there's Czech, polish... Driscoll: Hebrew. Hebrew! Russian. Russian. 

Will: as time went on more large items could be ordered by mail and shipped by rail from catalog companies like Montgomery ward and their main competitor sears and roebuck. 

Kmetz: what kind of really big things could you get from catalogs? Driscoll: silos. You could get buggies. You could get automobiles. But the biggest thing was probably houses. You could get a house? You could order a sears house through the mail. Jim Draeger: they gave you everything you needed right down to the paint and the shingles. I'm with Jim Draeger from historic preservation of state historical society. What's the beauty of these houses? 

The beauty of a sears and roebuck house, Tracy, was you could have architecture with a capital "a" for a working-class family, but at a very low cost. They would ship these things by rail. They would give you all the materials in a couple of railroad cars. And it was like ordering a giant Lego set. If you could pound a nail, you could build a sears house. Because sears had to sell these things based on appeal of the catalog image, they put a lot of architecture on the front of the building. Curb appeal. A lot of curb appeal. They were very influential in setting a national taste or a national style that really homogenized national design. 

Will: during the early 1900s and through the great depression home financing through banks was rare. So, sears offered their own home mortgages at 2.5 percent down, one percent a month to help finance the lot and construction. Draeger: during the great depression sears was hurt very badly, financially, by the foreclosure of so many of the financing deals on these houses. Sears decided that by the end of the depression to get out of the house business. 

Will: by then, the American social landscape was also changing. By 1910, more families lived in cities than on farms for the first time in American history. The advent of automobiles and better roads ended the isolation of farm families. Farmers were able to more easily get to cities and shop. And mail order sales gradually declined. Both wards and sears began opening retail stores. But, for many families then, as it is today it was still more convenient to stay at home and get it in the mail.

(polka music playing)

We're here in Monroe for Green County Cheese Days. Speaking of mail order catalogs... Monroe is home to Swiss Colony established in 1926. Swiss Colony is the oldest mail order cheese business in the united states. That's right. Of course, Monroe is the cheese capital which means you can get any kind of cheese here in green county, including... Limburger! Limburger! 
§ Come gather 'round people § 
§ and turn up the tube §
§ and we'll tell you a marvelous tale ) §
§ of medical hunches ) §
§ restorative lunches §
§ and rural deliveries of mail § 
§ romantically comic, heartbreakingly tragic § 
§ it's really not either of these § 
§ but thoroughly true and a pinnacle, too § 
§ in the history of Limburger cheese... §

§ §

Kmetz: Limburger is a foreign type of cheese known for a strong aroma. The chalet cheese co-op in Monroe is the only cheese factory in the united states that still makes Limburger by hand just as it was made in the 1930s just as it was made 100 years ago. Limburger is a fast-aging cheese that is schmeared on the outside with a bacteria that creates a rind. The cheese ripens from the outside in. And it is the bacteria that gives Limburger its odor and flavor.

Man: people either love Limburger or they hate it. 

Will: Limburger cheese is still enjoyed by many here at Baumgartner’s cheese store in Monroe. The favorite way to eat Limburger is with rye bread, onion and mustard. I come up here to ride my bike on the hills cause there aren't any hills where i live. And of course, that's always a good excuse to stop in here and have a Limburger cheese sandwich and some beer.

It's really good. Just like that sign says you don't eat it with your nose. There's a great story about Limburger cheese and the post office. I know you that you know the story very well, Debbie. It was 1935. And Wisconsin was still suffering the woes of the great depression. Things were so bad Monroe had even stopped celebrating cheese days. A doctor in independence, Iowa prescribed Limburger for an ailing patient. A package of Limburger was mailed to Iowa, but it came back because it reportedly made a rural mail carrier sick. 

Will: the independence, Iowa, postmaster, warren miller cited a rule in the postal regulations that offensive-smelling packages did not have to be accepted for the mails. § now little Monroe had a postmaster, too 
§ §
 who'd step into the fray now and then 
§ §
 j. Burkhard felt strongly 
§ §
 the cheese had been wrongly returned 
§ §
 and he mailed it again 
§ §
 but first he took pains to re-wrap it in foil 
§ §
 and in cardboard too sturdy to squeeze 
§ §
 and passing appraisal, both postal and nasal 
§ §
 away went the Limburger cheese... 
§ §

Kmetz: the next month, the Limburger cheese was wrapped in wax paper and tin foil and sent in the mail to Iowa, again. And again, it came back undeliverable. 
§ But when it came home to Monroe once again § 
§ it took Postmaster Burkhard aback § 
§ instead of completely accepting defeat 
§ §
 he developed a two-pronged attack 
§ §
 he mumbled, I’ll send it to Washington 
§ §
 then, if the postmaster general agrees 
§ §
 with approval attached 
§ §
 we'll re-wrap and dispatch for the third time 
§ §
 the Limburger cheese 
§ §
 and meanwhile, post haste, he composed an epistle 
§ §
 to postmaster miller, that read: 
§ §
 "yours truly proposes a contest of noses 
§ §
 "to bring this whole thing to a head 
§ §
 "I’ll sublet a centrally-located hall 
§ §
 "and I’ll personally pay all the fees 
§ §
 "I’ll spring for the brew and the bakery, too 
§ §
 and I’ll pop for the Limburger cheese..." 
§ §

Kmetz: the contest was set Burkhard was afraid Miller couldn't take the smell. So, he brought along his old army gas mask clothes pins, incense and smelling salts-- ready for first aid in an Iowa emergency. 

Will: As Burkhard and a group from Monroe left for Dubuque they were urged to "win by a nose." 

§ two-thirty p.m. on the ninth day of March § 
§ in Dubuque, at the Julien hotel § 
§ if you couldn't see § 
§ you could find parlor "b" on the mezzanine level § 
§ by smell § 
§ where cameras were raised 
§ §
 and reporters were poised 
§ §
 for a test of their best journalese 
§ §
 expecting a thriller as Burkhard served Miller 
§ §
 a sandwich of Limburger cheese 
§ §
 most everyone present was holding their breath 
§ §
 watching miller prepare to consume 
§ §
 including the guests 
§ §
 who'd been holding their breaths 
§ §
 ever since they'd come into the room 
§ §
 he managed a nibble, and then took a bite 
§ §
 and as crumbs tumbled down his chemise 
§ §
 the whole room went wild when the postmaster smiled 
§ §
 and requested more Limburger cheese... 
§ §

Kmetz: after several Limburger sandwiches were consumed by Miller the acting referee declared Burkhard the winner in the Limburger sniffing duel. 

Will: Iowa’s Miller surrendered. He said, "i was all wrong. "i like the stuff. "you can send all the Limburger you want through my post office." 

§ When word of this great vindication 
§ §
 arrived in Monroe on the following day 
§ §
 and then, the day after, to cheering and laughter 
§ §
 the postmaster general's okay 
§ §
 the village went mad and demanded a plan 
§ §
 to revive one of those jamborees 
§ §
 so popular here 
§ §
 full of bratwurst and beer 
§ §
 and a float for miss Limburger cheese... 
§ §
 the publicity surrounding the Limburger-sniffing duel resulted in Monroe residents organizing to revive an old-time custom of cheese days which hadn't been held in Monroe since 1928. And Monroe postmaster, John Burkhard was named chair of the celebration. And independence, Iowa, postmaster, warren miller was invited to be guest of honor. And so, it was that a poorly wrapped package of Limburger cheese brought on the cheese-sniffing duel which, in turn, revived the cheese day festival that continues to this day. When in Rome, Debbie. I'll eat some Limburger, if you do. Well, okay. I wish i had my favorite beverage to wash it down. Here we go. Rye bread, Limburger, mustard and onions. The real thing. Bon appetit!

It's pretty good. That's good! § and so ends our tale 
§ §
 but those sagas like this 
§ §
 are the stuff of a newspaper's dreams 
§ §
 assuming it's true 
§ §
 the cheese finally went through 
§ §
 there is more to the story it seems 
§ §
 for if there's an ironic twist 
§ §
 at the end of this tale that began with disease 
§ §
 it's a postman made ill and a farmer made well 
§ §
 by the same piece of Limburger cheese 
§ §
 a postman made ill and a farmer made well 
§ §
 by the same piece of Limburger cheese... 
§ §

Major funding for Wisconsin Stories is provided by the Mead Witter Foundation, Inc. Wisconsin Rapids, Wisconsin. Additional funding is provided by the Halbert and Alice Kadish Foundation Philip J. And Elizabeth B. Hendrickson and an advised fund of the Community Foundation of Southern Wisconsin.