One Letter Carrier's Life

Peter Stafford is distinctly out of character as a striker in violation of federal law, a court injunction and union orders. A New York letter carrier for 23 years, he is an Army veteran who is active in church affairs and the Boy Scouts. He is ordinarily a law-abiding, responsible citizen; in his life there have been no riots or violent demonstrations. Yet last week Stafford was willingly risking his job and pension rights--and flirting with a jail sentence and fine. In a mood as angry as the angriest militant's, he declared: "Our Government shows that the only way to get any action is to go out on strike. The only way they appreciate people is when they give a little action. Look at the riots in the colleges."

Stafford makes only $8,030 a year, well below the $11,236 that the Federal Government says a family of four needs to maintain a "moderate" living standard in New York. Stafford's is a family of six. Like many other Post Office men, he moonlights. Sometimes he is a bartender, sometimes a chauffeur. "I can't afford not to strike," the husky Stafford says. "I owe it to my family to provide them with a decent living."

The Staffords do not live in dire poverty, but they have few comforts and no spare cash. Home is in an old building in the Kingsbridge section of The Bronx, where Stafford, 43, and his wife Geraldyne, 33, grew up. The Staffords live three flights up in a tiny, four-room apartment. Scatter rugs cover the linoleum floors. There are only two closets, so toys and clothes are piled everywhere. The kitchen is jammed with dishes and drying laundry. In the living room, there is a card table --bought with trading stamps--where the family eats.

Sleeping is jammed: Stafford and his wife have one bedroom, their son and three daughters share the other. Stafford's pay, after deductions, comes to $230 every two weeks. Rent is $110 month, and there are other expenses: his son Peter is being treated for an eye condition at $24.60 a week. Stafford pays $11.50 every four weeks for medical insurance, but it does not cover the boy's condition.There are a few amenities: a washing machine, for which they saved ten years and bought on sale, a color television set won in a church raffle, and Jingles, a poodle they got as a gift from a family friend.

Stafford's day begins at 5 a.m. He must be at the Washington Bridge post office, twelve minutes away by subway, at 6. First he sorts, or "boxes up," the mail for his route. Regulations say that the bag he carries can weigh a maximum of 35 Ibs.; usually it is a little lighter. His 18-block trek takes him to 1,100 mailboxes. He enjoys the job, and knows many of the residents he serves. "I like to talk to people," he says. "It's nice in the summertime." For lunch, he gets 30 minutes. His normal day is eight hours. As a time-clock employee, he gets overtime for putting in more than 40 hours a week.

Even with overtime, the Staffords always seem to end up owing. "I never can make the money go," said Mrs. Stafford. "We always run out about three days before his next paycheck. I used to swear he was spending it on the side until we sat down and went over all our expenses."

When buying food and clothing, the Staffords hunt for bargains. "I buy stew meat or something that will last more than one meal," she says. Other times, "you give things up." Their children go to a Roman Catholic school where tuition is still free. Social life is simple, revolving mostly around the Church of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Dinner out is rare. "I have a dream for my family," Mrs. Stafford says, "for us all to go away somewhere to the beach or the country for a week's vacation together." In their 13 years of marriage, the Staffords have never had a family holiday.

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