After-Dark Postmark

They meet here in the dead of night: the desperate and the truly busy, the crusty curmudgeons, harried eccentrics, shy night owls who hate to wait in daytime mailing lines, the celebrities avoiding fans and photographers, the people who always wait until the very last minute to do anything, and a choice few lonely souls who just can’t sleep at night and come calling for a little companionship.

From San Diego clear to the San Fernando Valley, they flock here to the World Way Postal Center, Southern California’s only 24-hour post office, located within droning earshot of Los Angeles International Airport.

Counted as regulars are the peculiar old man who once sent daily love letters to Princess Diana and the nightly customer whom workers call Don King Jr. for his stand-up shock of boxer promoter-style gray hair.

“Yeah, it’s the freaks and the truly weird who mail letters after midnight,” said an airport shuttle driver who calls himself Doctor Eric, scratching a stubbly chin.

“One night this guy came in with 30 roosters in cages to be shipped off to Guam,” he said. “Do you know what 30 roosters in cages sound like? It’s a hell of a racket. They all go ‘Caw! Caw! Caw!’ ”

Eric has seen people send everything from live worms and baby chicks to cases full of chirping crickets. He has endured the “ranters and ravers,” folks not planning to postmark a thing, who just loudly speak their mind to no one in particular.

And those two Hollywood types with a hot script bound for London? “They said it had to be there by the next day at any cost,” he said. It was too late for overnight mail, so they chartered an executive jet--”at a cost of $7,000!”

Going postal from the stress of all those holiday mailings? Angst-ridden over the thought of another dragged-out post office line that circles the block like some mind-blowing Christmas tree garland?

World Way, at 5800 W. Century Blvd., may be your solution. One of half a dozen 24-hour post offices nationwide--each located near busy airports in big cities--it is a well-lit oasis with ample parking and security, located near a major freeway. And there’s a staff ready to help with that last-minute rent payment, love letter or holiday card list.

Because of its extended hours, World Way handles more transactions than any other post office in Los Angeles County. But this is no bottom-rung graveyard shift job. Workers say there is actually competition for the gig. And for good reason.

“There’s definitely less stress around here after dark,” said Patrice Oliver, a four-year nightside clerk. “I think there’s a gentler side to people that comes out at night. Everything isn’t so rush, rush, rush.”

But just when you’re about to be lulled to sleep, up pops an overnight postal line that can snake out to the parking lot, where planes rumble overhead near the “Nudes, Nudes, Nudes” marquee of a topless nightclub.

Because April 15 isn’t the only madcap postal deadline. The year is full of last-minute filings--from property tax mailings, monthly mortgage payments and INS paperwork to wedding announcements and college and job applications.

Said Oliver: “Around here, every night is a deadline for somebody for some reason.”

“I’ve seen lines there at 2 a.m.,” said Lewis Tucker, an employee at the local office of the African American Drama Company of San Francisco--a job he says sends him to the post office at the strangest hours.

“That’s when you say to yourself, ‘What in the world is going on here? Are all these people as crazy as I am?’ But they’re not crazy. Most are normal, everyday folks who can’t find any other time to make it to the post office.”

Some mailers are shrouded in mystery. “I just wanted to take care of something I should have taken care of a long time ago,” said one man who declined to discuss his letter. “Now that it’s off my chest, I’ll sleep better tonight.”

Not everyone is so content. Julius Niewiaroski, a regular, points to a sign saying that letters left after 7 p.m. will be moved with the next day’s mail.

“So what’s the point of being open all night?” he asked. “No matter when I drop my letters, they’re not going out until tomorrow. It’s not constant pickup like New York. Los Angeles is a Third World city with Third World services.”

Workers counter that, sign or no sign, letters mailed as late as 3 a.m. can often make it to their local destination in that day’s mail.

Like its daytime counterparts, business at World Way follows a schedule: It’s busy around midnight when the boulevard outside is still bustling with airport traffic. But then business slows to a crawl.

By 5 a.m., however, anxious professionals are already lining up to let workers know another busy day is about to begin.

“That’s when I know when it’s almost time to go home,” said veteran clerk Deborah Noria, “because it’s 5 a.m. and the people are back.”

Noria is one no-nonsense veteran who prefers contact with her “interesting and oddball” nighttime customers.

She will greet mailers at any hour with a cheerful “Good morning!” and smilingly offers customers all the grief they can handle. Most come back for more.

Like the grumpy airport worker she asked: “How come you always smile so much?” She even started calling him Smiley. He still chooses her window every time. And sometimes, she says, he even smiles.

Regular Elmer Legaspi gestures toward Noria. “Look at that face,” he said. “How often do you see a smiling face like that at the United States Post Office?”

But postal workers have their pet peeves--behavior that can wipe that smile clean away. Like customers who come in after midnight begging--and sometimes threatening--for a precious postmark from the previous day.

Most nights, though, Noria and her colleagues joke with gum-chewing prostitutes in go-go boots and with topless dancers who stop after their shifts to do their mailing.

For these workers, World Way is a place out of another era, an anomaly where people call one another by their first names in a stranger-filled big city. For all its friendliness, they say, the place might as well be located in Mayberry, not L.A.

For Halloween night, the 38-year-old Noria dressed up like a Gypsy and handed out candy. Customers responded.

On her birthday, Noria received flowers, candy and cards from dozens of regulars. Others stop to chat, bringing photographs from their vacations or pictures of their grandchildren.

The postal employees have their favorites, of course.

There’s Mom, who shows up about 3 a.m. because she can’t sleep--bringing Snickers bars for workers, whom she calls her children. There’s the Professor, a college teacher who urges folks to continue their education and brings in books and postings of course listings, and has even offered to set up classes right there in the post office.

There’s the local ballet choreographer who brings front-row tickets for his performances. And the lonely old man who stops by, sometimes just to walk around, but more often to visit for an hour or so.

Workers treat them all like extended family. Once, when a regular stopped coming by, Noria went to his business to make sure he was all right.

“You learn a lot of things about people in here,” she said. “Sometimes it takes a while. It took a few visits before I realized Mom was all alone because her husband died. The way she kept talking, you’d have thought he was right there at home, sitting on the couch.”

Come 5 a.m., it’s time to walk Mom out to her car so she can beat the morning traffic.

“We wave goodbye and off she goes,” Noria said. “This place just cracks me up.”