As I continue to dip into John Ellis’s 1869 tome, Sights and Sounds of the National Capital, I keep getting distracted by the author’s digressions from his stated intention of writing a guide to the city. Such as today, when I noticed that – in the middle of a section on about 40 different members of Congress – four pages entitled “The Franking Swindle.” While I was vaguely aware of this issue, I had not delved into it for my book on Capitol Hill scandals. Which is a pity, especially in how Ellis goes about describing it.
Franking Privilege is an old right that allows members of Congress to send mail for free. All they need to do is sign the envelope in the space usually taken up by the stamp, and the postal service delivers it. Ellis describes its origins and abuse as follows:
This privilege was originally designed to cover the official correspondence of Congressmen with officials of the Government, and with their constituents, but, of late years, it has been so much abused that it has been put to uses never dreamed of before. Packages occupying an entire mail-bag have been sent by Congressmen with tough consciences, as franked matter. It is said that sewing machines have been sent home to their wives by members this way, during the existence of the privilege; and that certain members have sent their dirty linen home to be washed, under the cover of their franks, in order to save expense.
Cropped out: Bag with Congressman’s name “W. Mulligan” and “Free” on it. (LOC)
There follows an extract from a New York Tribune article, which names a few names:
We know that Mr. Brooks disseminates circulars advertising the New York Express, by means of his printed frank; and Mr. Demas Barnes sends out pricelists of his “Mustang Liniments” and “Soothing Syrups.” Congressman O’Neill, of Pennsylvania, has recently been found franking all over the country a good thick pamphlet published by the Union League of Philadelphia, and labeling it, by a pleasing freedom of language, a “Pub. Doc.” We dare say, the book contained a great deal more useful information than nine out of ten documents issued from the Government Printing Office; but it was not a public document, for all that, and if Mr. O’Neill wanted to send copies of it through the mail, he ought to have paid the postage, as any private gentleman would.
The problem went far past just Congressmen using the privilege for private purposes. Since the frank did not have to be his original signature, stamps were made up for the purpose of franking any number of items. William S. Lincoln, Representative from New York [pictured above], had his stamp used by the firm of Dimmick & Co., something he called out in a letter to the Tribune. The company struck back with their own letter in which they insisted that “similar franks are used by nearly all the different political organizations.” Lincoln wrote an answer, in which he said that he had allowed his frank to be used by the organization “Grant and Colfax Boys in Blue” and had no idea that this work had been carried out by Dimmick & Co., and certainly did not give them the right to use it for any other purposes.
Ellis prints these latter two letters to close out his section. He must have been gratified to hear that the franking privilege was revoked in 1873, and only restored – in far more limited form – over the next years.