Postmaster's Loss Leaves Hamlet Bereft
Note: This was one of those stories that had sat around a while. I had combed through the newspaper archives and spotted references to this woman -- but she never granted much of an interview. So I went out there, deep in the Delta, and found her and convinced her to talk to me. This is the story I came up with.
By Corey Lyons
Contra Costa Newspapers
Jan. 2, 2002
BIRDS LANDING -- For decades, Shirley Paolini holed up inside a tiny post office in front of a wood-burning stove and processed the mail that would be bundled and delivered to a town that time had shrugged off long ago.
The 74-year-old postmaster retired last year after operating one of the smallest post offices in the country for more than 30 years.
But more than a year later, this far-flung farming town buried deep in the green hills of Solano County has been unable to replace her.
Now, the 24 people who live here are grappling with the void left with the closure of its post office, which had been a community fixture since the 1870s.
"It was a sad day when Shirley left," said Alan Wald, a spokesman for the Postal Service. "She was very well-known and respected."
The absence of a rural postmaster here underscores the difficulty in resurrecting a contract station in a remote hamlet with few buildings and limited property space.
Paolini's makeshift postal shack still sits in the front yard of a two-story house that once belonged to John Bird, who founded the town. A cactus plant crawls up the side of the building. Inside, cobwebs hang from the ornate post boxes.
Paolini, a petite woman with a sharp wit and a no-nonsense attitude, had had enough of the sort-and-stamp business.
She locked the door to her 6-by-12-foot post office on Dec. 1, 2000, and walked across the street to run her late husband's tavern, Mel's Bar.
"Life is crazy sometimes," she said while leaning her elbows on the bar, whose floor was dusted with peanut shells. "It felt like getting a divorce. I worked with (postal officials) in every way that you can think of in trying to find a replacement.
"I talked long and hard with the powers that be in Oakland. But there was no way it would be feasible. There was nothing to do."
Postal authorities were interested in finding a dedicated local resident to assume the responsibilities of operating a contract station.
But in a town of 24 residents, the pool from which to draw is a small one.
In addition, there are no available buildings or property on which to operate a post office.
Even the old general store, which was built more than 125 years ago and included postal service until 1968, is empty and unavailable because it is reportedly under renovation.
Most contract stations require one part-time or full-time person and 100 square feet of space, meaning the job could be handled inside one of the nine houses in Birds Landing.
Is anyone interested in running money orders from their dining room table?
"This is a particular case in which we would like to find someone from the community who could serve," Wald said. "We'd work with them."
***
The Postal Service in Oakland sent a letter to every customer on the Birds Landing route on Dec. 14, 2000. Residents were asked whether they were interested in becoming postmaster.
Only one person responded, but never explored the issue further, said Linda Laforet, a retail specialist for the Postal Service.
"If no one replies, it shows that they are not interested," said Laforet, who sent out the solicitation letter. "If there is no interest, you can't force anyone to do anything."
In the interim, a letter carrier from nearby Suisun City makes the daily rounds, stuffing old, roadside mailboxes that sit on wooden planks.
But to mail packages or register letters, area residents travel about 17 miles to Suisun City or 13 miles to Rio Vista.
***
The former post office, longtime local resident Jeanne Anderson said, "brought everyone together. Now, there is a kind of vacuum. No one stops and visits."
Indeed, Birds Landing -- a remote town about 28 miles northwest of Antioch, surrounded by windswept hills -- feels sad and timeless.
The town, which includes nine houses, a bar and a general store, sits at a four-way stop sign at the foot of a two-lane country road punched full of potholes.
A crinkled green-and-white sign, "Birds Landing," leads drivers toward a quiet intersection. The handsome general store, which closed in 1987, is a ghostly presence, filled with a ramshackle assortment of furniture.
Next to it is Mel's Bar, a single-story, pink house with an American flag fluttering near the front porch.
A few houses crowd the narrow roads; puffs of smoke curls from their stove pipes. On a recent day, no one walked outside.
The rural landscape that wraps around Birds Landing is dotted with grazing sheep, old-fashioned windmills and peeling farmhouses.
Paolini moved into town in February 1951, arriving from Arkansas to visit her brother. She never left.
Within a month, she had met Mel Paolini, who lived in a three-story, redwood house behind the town tavern, operated by his father, Fabrizzio. They were married that September.
In 1968, after being appointed by President Lyndon Johnson to become Birds Landing's new postmaster, Paolini learned the trade while working out of the living room of her house for several months.
"I felt like everyone was waiting for me to fall flat on my face," she said. "'How dare this young upstart come in and take this job?' That was the cloud I came in under. And it was three years before that cloud lifted."
Soon, Paolini was working out of a cramped tool shed that her husband had converted into a post office.
She worked 36 hours a week inside the tiny shell, which did not include heat or running water. Space was so tight that, during much of her tenure, she had only three feet in which to move.
"If she had two packages in there, she'd have to stand outside," said longtime resident Lloyd Paulson, 77.
But by the end of her career -- 32 years, 11 months down the road -- she had rented out 67 of 80 postal boxes and had become a town favorite.
In her new role as the community bartender, she remains a key figure whose spirit often lifts a town in reverse.
When her husband -- who died of prostate cancer in 1998 -- ran the bar, Paolini tried to steer clear.
"It was always dark and gloomy and filled with men and cigarette smoke," she said. "I never went in there unless I had to. Now, I'm running the place. Can you believe that?"
Birds Landing, many people said, would not be the same without her, whether she is delivering letters or liquor.
When the post office closed, a loyal group -- farmers, cowboys, hunters, visitors -- followed her across the street to the old tavern.
Anderson, who lives on a ranch between Birds Landing and nearby Collinsville, sighed when asked to describe Paolini.
"She's the heart of the town."
By Corey Lyons
Contra Costa Newspapers
Jan. 2, 2002
BIRDS LANDING -- For decades, Shirley Paolini holed up inside a tiny post office in front of a wood-burning stove and processed the mail that would be bundled and delivered to a town that time had shrugged off long ago.
The 74-year-old postmaster retired last year after operating one of the smallest post offices in the country for more than 30 years.
But more than a year later, this far-flung farming town buried deep in the green hills of Solano County has been unable to replace her.
Now, the 24 people who live here are grappling with the void left with the closure of its post office, which had been a community fixture since the 1870s.
"It was a sad day when Shirley left," said Alan Wald, a spokesman for the Postal Service. "She was very well-known and respected."
The absence of a rural postmaster here underscores the difficulty in resurrecting a contract station in a remote hamlet with few buildings and limited property space.
Paolini's makeshift postal shack still sits in the front yard of a two-story house that once belonged to John Bird, who founded the town. A cactus plant crawls up the side of the building. Inside, cobwebs hang from the ornate post boxes.
Paolini, a petite woman with a sharp wit and a no-nonsense attitude, had had enough of the sort-and-stamp business.
She locked the door to her 6-by-12-foot post office on Dec. 1, 2000, and walked across the street to run her late husband's tavern, Mel's Bar.
"Life is crazy sometimes," she said while leaning her elbows on the bar, whose floor was dusted with peanut shells. "It felt like getting a divorce. I worked with (postal officials) in every way that you can think of in trying to find a replacement.
"I talked long and hard with the powers that be in Oakland. But there was no way it would be feasible. There was nothing to do."
Postal authorities were interested in finding a dedicated local resident to assume the responsibilities of operating a contract station.
But in a town of 24 residents, the pool from which to draw is a small one.
In addition, there are no available buildings or property on which to operate a post office.
Even the old general store, which was built more than 125 years ago and included postal service until 1968, is empty and unavailable because it is reportedly under renovation.
Most contract stations require one part-time or full-time person and 100 square feet of space, meaning the job could be handled inside one of the nine houses in Birds Landing.
Is anyone interested in running money orders from their dining room table?
"This is a particular case in which we would like to find someone from the community who could serve," Wald said. "We'd work with them."
***
The Postal Service in Oakland sent a letter to every customer on the Birds Landing route on Dec. 14, 2000. Residents were asked whether they were interested in becoming postmaster.
Only one person responded, but never explored the issue further, said Linda Laforet, a retail specialist for the Postal Service.
"If no one replies, it shows that they are not interested," said Laforet, who sent out the solicitation letter. "If there is no interest, you can't force anyone to do anything."
In the interim, a letter carrier from nearby Suisun City makes the daily rounds, stuffing old, roadside mailboxes that sit on wooden planks.
But to mail packages or register letters, area residents travel about 17 miles to Suisun City or 13 miles to Rio Vista.
***
The former post office, longtime local resident Jeanne Anderson said, "brought everyone together. Now, there is a kind of vacuum. No one stops and visits."
Indeed, Birds Landing -- a remote town about 28 miles northwest of Antioch, surrounded by windswept hills -- feels sad and timeless.
The town, which includes nine houses, a bar and a general store, sits at a four-way stop sign at the foot of a two-lane country road punched full of potholes.
A crinkled green-and-white sign, "Birds Landing," leads drivers toward a quiet intersection. The handsome general store, which closed in 1987, is a ghostly presence, filled with a ramshackle assortment of furniture.
Next to it is Mel's Bar, a single-story, pink house with an American flag fluttering near the front porch.
A few houses crowd the narrow roads; puffs of smoke curls from their stove pipes. On a recent day, no one walked outside.
The rural landscape that wraps around Birds Landing is dotted with grazing sheep, old-fashioned windmills and peeling farmhouses.
Paolini moved into town in February 1951, arriving from Arkansas to visit her brother. She never left.
Within a month, she had met Mel Paolini, who lived in a three-story, redwood house behind the town tavern, operated by his father, Fabrizzio. They were married that September.
In 1968, after being appointed by President Lyndon Johnson to become Birds Landing's new postmaster, Paolini learned the trade while working out of the living room of her house for several months.
"I felt like everyone was waiting for me to fall flat on my face," she said. "'How dare this young upstart come in and take this job?' That was the cloud I came in under. And it was three years before that cloud lifted."
Soon, Paolini was working out of a cramped tool shed that her husband had converted into a post office.
She worked 36 hours a week inside the tiny shell, which did not include heat or running water. Space was so tight that, during much of her tenure, she had only three feet in which to move.
"If she had two packages in there, she'd have to stand outside," said longtime resident Lloyd Paulson, 77.
But by the end of her career -- 32 years, 11 months down the road -- she had rented out 67 of 80 postal boxes and had become a town favorite.
In her new role as the community bartender, she remains a key figure whose spirit often lifts a town in reverse.
When her husband -- who died of prostate cancer in 1998 -- ran the bar, Paolini tried to steer clear.
"It was always dark and gloomy and filled with men and cigarette smoke," she said. "I never went in there unless I had to. Now, I'm running the place. Can you believe that?"
Birds Landing, many people said, would not be the same without her, whether she is delivering letters or liquor.
When the post office closed, a loyal group -- farmers, cowboys, hunters, visitors -- followed her across the street to the old tavern.
Anderson, who lives on a ranch between Birds Landing and nearby Collinsville, sighed when asked to describe Paolini.
"She's the heart of the town."
posted by Corey at 8:29 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home