A Society Hill mailman gets a love-filled retirement send-off

Nobody on Lawrence Court could remember a time when mailman Charles Powell wasn’t around.

At Powell’s retirement party Saturday, they tried to remember just when he started walking the postal route on their street, a picturesque courtyard in the heart of Society Hill.

Ten years? 15 years? 20 years? Forever?

Ask the guest of honor himself, and he’ll tell you with a smile that, no, it’s only been six.

But such is the impression Powell made on the people whose mail he delivered — a testament to the personal touch in an impersonal time.

Whether that meant simply remembering everyone’s name, and calling out hellos to the children. Or always remembering birthdays with a card or dropping off a condolence card for a parent or a pet. Or making sure packages were safe and lost mail found. Or stopping to compliment a garden — or inquire about a book. Or making sure to drop in daily on someone who had no one else.

“I always tried to put a bit more extra into people,” Powell put it.

Every block has a mailman. And some become friendly fixtures. But how many have nearly 60 people turn out on a Saturday in spring with cakes and cards and cash, all to say goodbye and thank you for being so much more than the job.

“He’s not just the mailman,” said Ashley Hulsey. “He’s a central figure in the neighborhood.”

Powell, 67, joined the postal service 29 years ago, after serving in the Navy. He spent most of his years walking routes in Southwest Philadelphia, where he grew up.

“That was hard,” he said. “Dodging all that gunfire and fighting.”

Powell cut an elegant figure in his uniform. He was known on Lawrence Court as Mr. Charles. Or the Music Man. Because of the easy listening jazz he played on a little radio tucked inside his mail pouch.

“You could hear him coming,” said Rick Herskovitz. “It’s a nice and low, classical jazz.”

His route — number 637 — encompasses about 14 blocks between 3rd and 6th Streets, and Spruce and Pine. And the little courts and lanes in between. He greeted even new residents by name, and never seemed to let his smile slip.

On Saturday, the residents of Lawrence Court — and many other neighbors from nearby blocks —applauded when Powell arrived at the party, which was held in the court. His mother, Jesse Powell, 83, was on his arm. He was a few minutes late.

“I wanted to make sure to finish up my shift first,” he said.

One by one, neighbors rose to say how Powell had welcomed them or cheered them up or helped them grieve.

Maye Sakharov said that after her Chihuahua, Mommy Mayhem, passed in January, she opened her mailbox and there was a card from Powell.

“The world needs more kindness,” she said.

Caitlin Wraith was near tears when she recalled how during the pandemic Powell would everyday check on her mother, who is elderly and mostly blind, and pick up her hand-written letters to deliver.

“Charles was her connection to the outside world,” Wraith said.

When it came time for him to speak, Powell said that it had been his pleasure. As the party broke up, he sat in the shade and talked of his plans. That he’d like to travel. Palma de Yuca. Barcelona. Paris. How he wished his late wife, Valerie, who passed away last year from cancer could be by his side. He never told many residents of Lawrence Court about her passing. The job — and the people he met — gave him something in return, he said.

“It was my therapy,” he said.