| TRAVELS OF DURSMIRG VOLUME IV THE ROGUES OF ST. AUGUSTINE AND OTHER SOCIAL MISFITS Chapter 39 |
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The employees of the St. Augustine post office were without a doubt a conglomeration of the most unlikely group of
mismatched social misfits we had yet met.
Jane and I got to know this motley crew quite well when we would pick up our mail “General Delivery” while we were
sailing and living aboard our boat Dursmirg in the1970s.
Sometimes we would only pass through St. Augustine twice a year occasionally lingering a month or two either
heading north to the Carolinas or south to the Florida Keys.
Each time we would drop anchor in town, we re-provisioned, visited friends, did what ever banking business we
needed to do and of course visit our old crony friends at the post office.
Tall lanky slightly graying cantankerous crotchety old Woody was one of the clerks we enjoyed the most and got to
know the best.
Everybody at the post office knew our routine of living aboard our boat, sailing the coast with the seasons and
drifting through St. Augustine as one of our ports of convenience. So, Woody paid us the best complement we could
imagine; this is the quote from Woody; “John when I see you sailing off I would give anything to be going with you.”
It was obvious that Woody felt trapped at his work and would love to have been doing just about anything else but
tending his window at the post office.
Now and then Woody’s longing desire to be elsewhere would surface and he seemed to be out of control with his
emotions and took it out on his customers no matter who they were.
I can still remember one such incident that took place as Jane and I were in the post office waiting in another clerk’s
line.
An old crippled up lady painfully limped and shuffled up to Woody’s window and waited patiently for service. Woody
sat there for some time and the old lady nervously tapping the counter finally made a sound of clearing her throat to
get Woody’s attention.
Woody indifferently finally looked up disgruntled with a “are you back here again sneer” and snapped a gruff bark at
the timid old lady; “Don’t you know why nobody is standing in my line? I am closed!”
Don Thibault was definitely one of the senior social misfits working the postage stamp counters back in the 1970s. I
can still picture him trying to fake business and avoid customers as he continually put his finger to his glasses that
were continuously slipping down his nose. (Poorly fitting glasses?)
Don worked at the St. Augustine Post Office as a postal clerk and his hobby was marine photography.
Don easily could have been one of the group that got their civil service jobs because of their veterans bonus points
on the exams.
Don didn’t possess even the remotest amount of socializing skills or interest in chit-chat and was socially a dud.
With a disposition like that you might think that he would be a real down to business type of person…wrong!
Getting despondent nearly unmovable Don the dud to do even the simplest postal task was like trying to move a
mountain verbally…by screaming at it.
Don had his bureaucratically secured civil service job and he was not going to be bothered by any postal patrons or
let them hurry him along any faster than his sluggish snail pace.
Don the dud was just a cranky old son of a bitch but never failed to greet Jane and I as he begrudgingly drug his
feet on the job. Thibault acted like he was participating in his very own little sanctioned work slow down. He obviously
felt like he was doing the world a favor just showing up for work and putting in his time.
I remember that Don was the only postal teller that took care of post office box registrations and Jane and I
eventually decided that this was one postal service that we would be needing. So, we put in our application with the
only person that handled that department; snail paced Don the dud.
It was like pulling teeth, no it was worse, to get uncooperative Don the dud to even take our application…but he
gradually reluctantly did. I asked how soon we could have our post office box and he informed us it would take three
months…OK Don.
We put the date on the calendar and waited…what a bureaucratic joke!
When the three months had elapsed I returned to our pathetically piss-poor postal friend Don the dud and waited
my turn in line and when it came I asked dear old Don for my post office box.
Don stammered, stumbled and fumbled pushing his loose glasses back up on his nose and said; it would take a
long time to do all the paper work.
I emphatically leaned over the counter and eye to eye told Don in no uncertain terms with a categorically emphatic; “I’
m not going away look on my face”, and then said; “I have all afternoon and I will wait”.
Ever-so-slowly sluggish as a snail Don then begin to shuffle and even at this incredulously nearly imperceptibly
deliberately lethargic lackluster lazy pace the simple procedure was preformed and over in less than two minutes.
We both knew that this application could have been concluded three months earlier but the bureaucrat had his way.
Don Thibault unfortunately was not the exception in this closed world of civil service functionaries.
What would have it cost any of them to be cheerful?
Their negative attitude only made their work experience miserable.
Don did have one very interesting hobby that first got us acquainted early on when we arrived in St. Augustine.
Don made it his life’s ambition and hobby to photograph every aspect of the St. Augustine waterfront along with the
multitude of strange and interesting vessels that came and went…he even snapped photos of Dursmirg.
Early one Sunday morning in 1972 while we were still docked over on the San Sebastian River at Xynides Boat Yard
we met this very enthusiastic photographer with his monstrous antique camera mounted upon a tripod. Don’s
camera was definitely a relic that could easily have been a museum item. It was the kind you used to see in old
movies where the photographer ducked under a black cloth and squeezed a remote shutter cable.
I hadn’t seen one of these old time relic cameras since I was a young child. The camera stored each negative in a
special black container and was manually inserted loaded for each exposure.
The procedure for using this museum piece seemed complicated and cumbersome. Don ducked his head under a
black cloth that shrouded the back of the camera in order to focus it properly then inserted the black box containing
the negative.
Note; To all of you readers; If any of you have any idea of what became of Don Thibault’s photograph collection it
would be a very historic anthology of St. Augustine’s maritime history.
On the main Jane and I had very friendly and exceptional service from all of the postal employees of the St.
Augustine post office. In spite of their idiosyncrasies we dearly miss their personal touch that made you feel like you
were someone special to them.
Here is an example of that special service we received here and nowhere else;
A dear friend of ours from Miami, Joyce Partridge sent this letter addressed as follows;
Dursmirg,
General Delivery,
“Stagnant Little Suck Hole”
And only the postal zip-code of “32084”…nothing else.
Believe it or not we actually received that letter with that address containing, no city, no state or even our name.
The most unusual thing of all was that at the time we were actually anchored off shore out in the Matanzas Bay living
aboard our boat Dursmirg with no street address.
The letter was delivered to us along with many chuckles from the entire post office crew.
Evidently the word of our boat name had gone around town and we enjoyed somewhat of a off-handed celebrity
status among the citizenry involved with the public for one reason we were always receiving out of town mail from the
many places that we frequented in our sailing travels.
The postal crew took note when sorting the mail and we were always called upon to fill them all in on our adventures
upon our return to town.
The post office crew openly voiced their feelings about their desire to be hoisting sail and taking departure with us
with our free spirited vagabond life style.
next chapter
mismatched social misfits we had yet met.
Jane and I got to know this motley crew quite well when we would pick up our mail “General Delivery” while we were
sailing and living aboard our boat Dursmirg in the1970s.
Sometimes we would only pass through St. Augustine twice a year occasionally lingering a month or two either
heading north to the Carolinas or south to the Florida Keys.
Each time we would drop anchor in town, we re-provisioned, visited friends, did what ever banking business we
needed to do and of course visit our old crony friends at the post office.
Tall lanky slightly graying cantankerous crotchety old Woody was one of the clerks we enjoyed the most and got to
know the best.
Everybody at the post office knew our routine of living aboard our boat, sailing the coast with the seasons and
drifting through St. Augustine as one of our ports of convenience. So, Woody paid us the best complement we could
imagine; this is the quote from Woody; “John when I see you sailing off I would give anything to be going with you.”
It was obvious that Woody felt trapped at his work and would love to have been doing just about anything else but
tending his window at the post office.
Now and then Woody’s longing desire to be elsewhere would surface and he seemed to be out of control with his
emotions and took it out on his customers no matter who they were.
I can still remember one such incident that took place as Jane and I were in the post office waiting in another clerk’s
line.
An old crippled up lady painfully limped and shuffled up to Woody’s window and waited patiently for service. Woody
sat there for some time and the old lady nervously tapping the counter finally made a sound of clearing her throat to
get Woody’s attention.
Woody indifferently finally looked up disgruntled with a “are you back here again sneer” and snapped a gruff bark at
the timid old lady; “Don’t you know why nobody is standing in my line? I am closed!”
Don Thibault was definitely one of the senior social misfits working the postage stamp counters back in the 1970s. I
can still picture him trying to fake business and avoid customers as he continually put his finger to his glasses that
were continuously slipping down his nose. (Poorly fitting glasses?)
Don worked at the St. Augustine Post Office as a postal clerk and his hobby was marine photography.
Don easily could have been one of the group that got their civil service jobs because of their veterans bonus points
on the exams.
Don didn’t possess even the remotest amount of socializing skills or interest in chit-chat and was socially a dud.
With a disposition like that you might think that he would be a real down to business type of person…wrong!
Getting despondent nearly unmovable Don the dud to do even the simplest postal task was like trying to move a
mountain verbally…by screaming at it.
Don had his bureaucratically secured civil service job and he was not going to be bothered by any postal patrons or
let them hurry him along any faster than his sluggish snail pace.
Don the dud was just a cranky old son of a bitch but never failed to greet Jane and I as he begrudgingly drug his
feet on the job. Thibault acted like he was participating in his very own little sanctioned work slow down. He obviously
felt like he was doing the world a favor just showing up for work and putting in his time.
I remember that Don was the only postal teller that took care of post office box registrations and Jane and I
eventually decided that this was one postal service that we would be needing. So, we put in our application with the
only person that handled that department; snail paced Don the dud.
It was like pulling teeth, no it was worse, to get uncooperative Don the dud to even take our application…but he
gradually reluctantly did. I asked how soon we could have our post office box and he informed us it would take three
months…OK Don.
We put the date on the calendar and waited…what a bureaucratic joke!
When the three months had elapsed I returned to our pathetically piss-poor postal friend Don the dud and waited
my turn in line and when it came I asked dear old Don for my post office box.
Don stammered, stumbled and fumbled pushing his loose glasses back up on his nose and said; it would take a
long time to do all the paper work.
I emphatically leaned over the counter and eye to eye told Don in no uncertain terms with a categorically emphatic; “I’
m not going away look on my face”, and then said; “I have all afternoon and I will wait”.
Ever-so-slowly sluggish as a snail Don then begin to shuffle and even at this incredulously nearly imperceptibly
deliberately lethargic lackluster lazy pace the simple procedure was preformed and over in less than two minutes.
We both knew that this application could have been concluded three months earlier but the bureaucrat had his way.
Don Thibault unfortunately was not the exception in this closed world of civil service functionaries.
What would have it cost any of them to be cheerful?
Their negative attitude only made their work experience miserable.
Don did have one very interesting hobby that first got us acquainted early on when we arrived in St. Augustine.
Don made it his life’s ambition and hobby to photograph every aspect of the St. Augustine waterfront along with the
multitude of strange and interesting vessels that came and went…he even snapped photos of Dursmirg.
Early one Sunday morning in 1972 while we were still docked over on the San Sebastian River at Xynides Boat Yard
we met this very enthusiastic photographer with his monstrous antique camera mounted upon a tripod. Don’s
camera was definitely a relic that could easily have been a museum item. It was the kind you used to see in old
movies where the photographer ducked under a black cloth and squeezed a remote shutter cable.
I hadn’t seen one of these old time relic cameras since I was a young child. The camera stored each negative in a
special black container and was manually inserted loaded for each exposure.
The procedure for using this museum piece seemed complicated and cumbersome. Don ducked his head under a
black cloth that shrouded the back of the camera in order to focus it properly then inserted the black box containing
the negative.
Note; To all of you readers; If any of you have any idea of what became of Don Thibault’s photograph collection it
would be a very historic anthology of St. Augustine’s maritime history.
On the main Jane and I had very friendly and exceptional service from all of the postal employees of the St.
Augustine post office. In spite of their idiosyncrasies we dearly miss their personal touch that made you feel like you
were someone special to them.
Here is an example of that special service we received here and nowhere else;
A dear friend of ours from Miami, Joyce Partridge sent this letter addressed as follows;
Dursmirg,
General Delivery,
“Stagnant Little Suck Hole”
And only the postal zip-code of “32084”…nothing else.
Believe it or not we actually received that letter with that address containing, no city, no state or even our name.
The most unusual thing of all was that at the time we were actually anchored off shore out in the Matanzas Bay living
aboard our boat Dursmirg with no street address.
The letter was delivered to us along with many chuckles from the entire post office crew.
Evidently the word of our boat name had gone around town and we enjoyed somewhat of a off-handed celebrity
status among the citizenry involved with the public for one reason we were always receiving out of town mail from the
many places that we frequented in our sailing travels.
The postal crew took note when sorting the mail and we were always called upon to fill them all in on our adventures
upon our return to town.
The post office crew openly voiced their feelings about their desire to be hoisting sail and taking departure with us
with our free spirited vagabond life style.
next chapter