On January 2, 1893, the United States Postal Service released the first “commemorative” stamps in its history. Postmaster General John Wanamaker contracted the American Bank Note Company to produce the set of sixteen “Columbian” stamps, having denominations ranging from 1 cent to $5 and a total face value of $16.34. The souvenir set depicts various scenes of Christopher Columbus’ 1492 voyage and tied into the upcoming World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. To properly illustrate the subjects, the stamp design adopted a significantly larger size. At 7/8-of-an-inch high by 11/32-of-an-inch wide, the new stamps were the same height but nearly double the length of the regular stamps. This was fine when inspecting the artwork on the front, but immediate caused concern when customers turned them over and set them on their tongues.

Twice as much licking

It did not take long for tongues not coated in stamp glue to start wagging with criticisms of the new size. (See also “Columbian Exposition Stamp Collecting … and Complaints“) The Lancaster Intelligencer wasted no time in advising its readers when it published this respectfully worded warning on release day:

We may note that the new stamps will require twice as much licking, being much larger than the ordinary postage stamp. The person who uses many of them will have to do his licking with a sponge or use chewing gum. This consideration may interfere with the universal use of these attractive stamps, and we note that the post office department will continue the sale of the ordinary variety. Americans are patriotic and appreciate the sublime and beautiful, but people who stamp many letters will economize in slobbering by using the smaller stamp.

In the pages of other newspapers, the complaints about stamp size evolved into parody and satire. The Burlington Democrat commented that “a boarder once said to his landlady that he objected to bedbugs for the reason that he did not have the blood to spare. Some people object to the new Columbian stamps because they have not the saliva to spare.” The Washington Post suggested that “if Postmaster General Wanamaker were to turn out stamps with a rich vanilla flavoring in the mucilage, he would confer a great favor on the young man with the ice cream girl.”

Used for chest protectors

Other critics were more serious. On January 21, U.S. Senator Edward Wolcott called up a joint resolution directed at stopping the government’s sale of the Columbian stamps. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported that the Colorado Republican presented as evidence a letter from a physician who said that the stamps could be used for chest protectors.

The Indianapolis News reported in May about this incident in Michigan:

The postmaster at Jackson, Mich., is in a quandary regarding a missive that was recently received at his post office. A resident of that town wrote a message on the back of a one-cent Columbian stamp, and caused it to be mailed. The letter reached the post office and the postmaster is greatly perplexed, as, although a message can be forwarded on a one-cent postal card, he does not think it lawful for a letter to be sent through the mails written on the back of a one-cent stamp.

Stamps as Wall Paper

Also in May, the Baltimore Sun ran this story about creative uses of the mammoth stamps.

Good Mr. Wanamaker has been vindicated. A use has been found at last for the Columbian stamp. Many critics and fault-finders contend that in issuing the mammoth stamp he was putting a wet blanket on the market. But Mr. Wanamaker has not been standing behind the bargain counter for nothing. He knows as well as another what articles are salable and what are not.

The use of the Columbian stamp in undreamed of ways recalls a mercantile incident of long ago. A man in Boston who was unacquainted with the climate of Cuba sent a cargo of warming pans to that summer climate. To the confusion of those who had jeered at the good merchant, the warming pans were largely bought at big prices and used for evaporating sugar, and the venture proved a great success. This is the way with the Columbian stamps. They were apparently designed only to be pasted on letters, leaving a small space for the address, and now they are being used for wallpaper. It was first supposed that the only use to which they could be put was for liver pads, chest protectors and circus posters. But now they are to be used for wallpaper, and doubtless Mr. Wanamaker, with his characteristic business shrewdness, foresaw just this use for them.

To a wealthy farmer of Wayne County, Ind., Jonathan Stanhope by name, according to a dispatch from Indianapolis, will belong the honor of papering the first room with the stamps. He has ordered them in the denomination of one, two and five cents, and estimates that it will take just $3,800 worth of them to paper his room. The postmaster at Richmond, Ind., has his order for the stamps and his check for that sum.

Instead of putting a damper on the market Mr. Wanamaker has awakened the spirit of enterprise and invention. The uses to which the stamps may be put have not all been yet discovered, and it is more than likely that the great Philadelphia merchant will yet submit proposals to the government for taking advertising space on the stamps.

A Long Farewell

“The passing of the Columbian stamp is truly illustrative of the fact that fame is but transitory and earthly splendor but fleeting and temporary,” wrote the Bismarck Tribune sarcastically when sales of the commemorative stamps ended at the end of 1893. “For a few short months it has flourished and waxed popular, and now it is cut down in the prime of its popularity, and the hearts of the public are left torn and bleeding and wrenched with anguish.” The paper offered this history of the peculiar Columbian souvenirs.

People fought somewhat shy of the new stamp at first. Men hesitated to take it home, into the bosoms of their families. It was such a large, self-conscious and assuming stamp! Nearly as large as a two-year-old colt, and of many different colors, it was filled with interesting reading matter and one side resembled an illustrated weekly. On the reverse side was a preparation of medical glue, which had to be wetted with a white wash brush before the stamp was fully ready for use. The government spared no expense in advertising the new stamps, and before long they began to sell rapidly, and the national treasury was inflated to a great extent with the proceeds.

Before long the new stamps became almost indispensable in every well regulated family. In some homes they were framed in handsome gilt, and took the place, to a great extent, of the “God Bless Our Home” motto, which is so often encountered. They usurped the province of the decayed pair of trousers in replacing, temporarily, a broken window pane. One would be thrown in ample folds over baby, when he went to sleep on the floor or upon the piano. Housewives cut dainty little scallops in them, and used them upon the cupboard shelves. The reverse side would be wetted, and an average stamp was good for a pint of flies, under favorable conditions. They were useful and ornamental and cheap. People became attached to them and they nestled themselves so closely in the estimation of the public as to be almost members of the great American family.

SOURCES

“A boarder …” Burlington (KS) Democrat Jan. 27, 1893, p. 3.

“The Columbian Stamps” Lancaster (PA) Intelligencer Jan. 2, 1893, p. 2.

“If Postmaster General …” Washington Post Jan. 24, 1893, p. 4.

“A Long Farewell” Bismarck (ND) Tribune Dec. 26, 1893, p. 2.

“Stamps as Wallpaper” Baltimore Sun May 4, 1893, p. 4.

“Those New Stamps” St. Louis Post-Dispatch Jan. 21, 1893, p. 4.

“The postmaster …” Indianapolis News May 21, 1893, p. 4.