The “Golden Age of Flight”: An Airmail Collector’s Wonderland
- Michael Wilson
- Apr 9
- 23 min read
When I was growing up in the 1960s, I was captivated by the space race. I don’t remember Alan Shepard’s first Mercury flight or John Glenn’s Friendship 7 mission, but I do remember Ed White’s spacewalk during Gemini 4 and the tragedy of Apollo 1 that took the lives of three astronauts, including White’s. I most certainly remember the Apollo 11 moon landing in 1969 and watching fuzzy video of Neil Armstrong stepping down the ladder of the lunar lander.
I couldn’t get enough of space “stuff.” I collected newspapers articles, built model rockets, and, of course, I wanted to be an astronaut, a dream dashed by having to wear glasses to correct my 20-200 nearsightedness.
Kids growing up in the 1920s and 1930s were likewise fascinated by airplanes. We take air travel for granted these days and don’t give a second thought to our cross-country letter going by plane, but both air travel and air mail were novelties in the “Roaring Twenties.” In 1928, there were just 4,500 planes in the United States (compared to today where they are about 5,400 planes over U.S. airspace during peak hours every day of the week), so seeing a plane flying over your town or house was a big deal. The commencement of air mail in a town was front-page news. Certainly, Charles Lindbergh’s solo flight across the Atlantic in 1927 was that decade’s equivalent of the moon landing in 1969. It’s no surprise that the 1920s and 1930s are called the “Golden Age of Flight.”
The range and pace of aviation-related events in those years was astonishing, and it seemed like every occasion was commemorated with a philatelic item. If you were a kid back then, you probably would have gladly given up your Tiddlywinks for a set of aviation covers to pour over and dream about the day when you would take to the sky.
Well, two siblings in Milwaukee – Willard Roberts and his older sister Milo – amassed more than one hundred such covers and postcards without having to sacrifice their squidgers courtesy of their uncle, Herman C. Pietsch, the assistant postmaster of Milwaukee, and his boss, Postmaster (PM) Peter Piasecki.
Born in Germany in 1880, Herman and his family arrived in the United States in 1881 and settled in Milwaukee. Beginning in the 1840s, Milwaukee was a destination for German immigrants, and by the time Herman’s family arrived, native Germans made up almost a third of the city’s population. The family undoubtedly felt at home among the city’s beer gardens, German newspapers, and recreational societies.
Herman’s birth father died sometime after arriving, and his mother remarried. She and Herman’s stepfather had four children, including Clara who would marry Edward Roberts and give birth to Herman’s niece Milo in 1914 and nephew Willard in 1921.
Herman started working for the post office in Milwaukee in 1900, shortly after completing service as a corporal in the 1st Wisconsin Infantry, Company M during the Spanish-American War (Figure 1). He rose rapidly through the post office ranks from postal examiner to superintendent for mail to assistant postmaster by 1930.

Piasecki, who was born in Milwaukee in 1876 to German-immigrant parents and was known as “Colonel Piasecki” for his service in the Spanish-American War and World War I, was named Milwaukee postmaster in 1923. Herman and he not only became coworkers but close personal friends. Piasecki was a cheerleader for expanding airmail service to Milwaukee, but Herman caught the air mail bug even earlier.
Indeed, Herman’s interest in air mail went back to the “pioneering days” of the 1910s as evidenced by the oldest item in Willard’s and Milo’s collection: A pioneer flight postcard from Milwaukee postmarked September 14, 1915 (Figures 2a and 2b).


Before the first regularly scheduled airmail flight in May 1918, the U.S. Post Office Department authorized a series of experimental flights. Milwaukee got it first opportunity May 30-June 1, 1912, about nine months after the first demonstration in Garden City, New York. Unfortunately, the weather did not cooperate. Only mail postmarked May 30 was flown, and very few of those pieces survived.
Milwaukee’s next chance to shine came September 13-17, 1915, and it was a much more successful event. This postcard was one of 547 items flown around West Allis Fair Grounds on September 14 during the State Fair Aviation Meet by aviator Obert E. Williams (1872-1917). After the mail was flown, it was taken to a nearby post office to continue its journey.
The first cover Herman addressed to Willard and Milo was for a seminal event in Milwaukee airmail history – the first contract air mail (CAM) flight on June 7, 1926 (Figure 3). Chicago and Minneapolis were the end points of so-called CAM route 9 with stops in Milwaukee and La Crosse. The route was awarded to Charles Dickinson and his fleet of three planes. The inaugural flight from Minneapolis south was a disaster due to severe weather problems, but the afternoon flight from Milwaukee to Chicago on which this cover took a ride went off without a hitch.

Those first CAM flights to and from Milwaukee used Butler Field in suburban Wauwatosa. (That former airfield is now a county park.) About a 12-mile drive from their house, it is unlikely that Milo and Willard saw this event, but Piasecki attended the first flight from Butler Field to Minneapolis that morning, and there is a good chance Herman was there as well (Figure 4).

After Lindbergh made his historic flight in May 1927, “Lindbergh mania” swept the country, and Hermann was Johnny-on-the-spot to ensure his nephew and niece had a souvenir for their album.
Lindbergh paid a two-day visit to Milwaukee August 20-21, 1927, and Herman addressed a nifty little postcard to Willard and Milo with a message from “Lindy” aka Uncle Herman (Figures 5a and 5b). Lindbergh flew into Milwaukee County Airport (what is now Milwaukee Mitchell International Airport) that had opened the previous month. An estimated 200,000 people – more than a third of the city’s population – lined the streets to see Lindbergh parade down Wisconsin Avenue past the Federal Building, the home of the post office. Piasecki and Herman certainly must have seen the parade, and Piasecki spoke at a dinner in Lindbergh’s honor the evening of August 20.


“Lindbergh mania” continued into 1928 when Lindbergh once again flew mail on CAM 2, the airmail route between Chicago and St. Louis. Lindbergh was the first pilot on CAM 2 when service on that route started April 15, 1926, and he agreed to reprise his role February 20-21, 1928, to promote air mail. Multiple planes were needed to fly the tens of thousands of letters sent for this event, and Lindbergh flew each plane a part of the route. Herman made sure Milo received a postcard with the message “Greetings from ‘Lindy’ and Uncle Herman” (Figure s 6a and 6b).


That was the last item Herman addressed to Milo; all the later items were sent just to Willard. Milo turned 14 in 1928 and as a first-year high school student, she probably had more pressing matters to occupy her time than aviation and air mail. Willard was just seven and was likely becoming more aware of the world around him, so Uncle Herman kept the letters coming.
Less than three months after Lindbergh’s return to CAM 2, Milwaukee played host to the “Bremen Flyers” who made the first successful east-to-west transatlantic airplane flight April 12-13, 1928. Of course, a special souvenir postcard was prepared (Figures 7a and 7b). The Bremen Flyers, who called themselves “the three musketeers of the air,” consisted of two Germans – pilot Captain Hermann Köhl and plane owner Baron Ehrenfried Freiherr von Hünefeld – and Irish navigator Major James Fitzmaurice. The trio arrived in Milwaukee from Chicago the afternoon of May 13, and as with Lindbergh’s visit, huge crowds turned out to welcome them – 250,000 by one estimate. More than 1,000 people attended the banquet that evening, including Franklin D. Roosevelt, who was described simply as the “former assistant secretary of the navy under President Wilson.” At the time Roosevelt was making a political comeback and was elected governor of New York later in 1928. Paying homage to its German heritage, Captain Köhl said Milwaukee made him feel more at home than any other city in America, while both Baron von Hünefeld and Major Fitzmaurice touted the growth of aviation.


It is highly likely that as a post office employee, Herman tracked developments through the U.S. Post Office Department’s (USPOD) daily The Postal Bulletin (PB). And from occasional news reports of his comings and goings, Herman clearly had contacts at post offices elsewhere in Wisconsin.
That might explain why Herman received an inaugural flight cover for the extension of CAM 9 from Milwaukee to the Fox River Valley cities of Fond du Lac, Oshkosh, Appleton, and Green Bay on December 15, 1928. The PB announced this extension on November 26, 1928, and on the day of the first flight, Herman received an airmail cover from Fond du Lac with an enclosure signed by “Tom Watson” who was a mail carrier in that city. This cover promptly made it into Willard’s scrapbook (Figures 8a and 8b).


The first flight covers that Herman prepared for Willard were not, however, limited to Milwaukee and CAM 9. Herman sent him first flight covers from elsewhere in the United States, as well as from Canada, Mexico, and Central America, documenting the rapidly expanding airmail system in the Americas in the late 1920s and early 1930s:
August 1, 1928, Cincinnati to Cleveland on CAM 16 (Figures 9a and 9b);
October 1, 1928, Mexico City to Laredo, Texas (Figure 10a and 10b);
December 10, 1928, Winnipeg, Manitoba to Calgary, Alberta (Figure 11); and
Foreign Air Mail (FAM) route 5 Miami to Cristobal in the then Canal Zone, February 4, 1929, and from Cristobal to Miami on February 10, 1929 (Figures 12a and 12b).







Herman must not have read the PB of January 19, 1929, closely enough because he underpaid the FAM 5 cover to Cristobal by two cents! Postage either way was 25-cents in addition to the regular postage of 2-cents for a first-class letter. The correct amount of postage in Canal Zone stamps was used on the cover to Miami.
And did Willard know that those two covers traveled on Sikorsky S-38 flying boats piloted by none other than Charles Lindbergh? After celebrating his groundbreaking flight, Lindbergh got down to business helping Pan American Airways (PAA) set up its Latin America routes.
Fixed wing aircraft technology was adequate for short-haul flights in the 1920s, but rigid airships dominated long distance flights. Indeed, it was a real question at the time whether fixed wing aircraft would be able to compete with the likes of Germany’s Graf Zeppelin. To hedge their bets, Herman and PM Piasecki made sure Willard had a couple of Graf Zeppelin postal items in his collection.
PM Piasecki prepared a postal card for the first air mail to travel on the Graf Zeppelin from the United States to Germany (Figures 13a and 13b). The Graf Zeppelin started flying in September 1928, and in mid-October, it made its first commercial passenger flight across the Atlantic. After making repairs to damage incurred on the westbound journey, the Graf Zeppelin departed Lakehurst, New Jersey for Germany October 29, 1928, with PM Piasecki’s postal card onboard. Backstamped in Germany November 1, the postal card returned to Milwaukee and ended up in Willard’s scrapbook.


Another Graf Zeppelin postcard appeared in Willard’s mailbox in June 1930. He was only nine years old at the time, but I am sure he sensed the hype of the Graf Zeppelin’s first European-Pan American flight (Figures 14a and 14b). Even though the Graf Zeppelin would get no closer to Milwaukee than New Jersey, the preparations for its journey and its actual flight were front page news in newspapers across the country.


The Graf Zeppelin stamps that the USPOD issued April 19, 1930, to basically pay for the airship’s journey (93.5 percent of the revenue collected went to Zeppelin Airship Works) went on sale in Milwaukee April 21. Herman promptly bought one for Willard’s postcard, but he did not have to rush. The Great Depression was underway, and with unemployment surging 75 percent in Milwaukee, discretionary spending was severely constrained. Given their high values – 65 cents, $1.35 and $2.60 – the three stamps sold poorly and most were destroyed. As assistant postmaster, Herman was well off with a steady job and an annual salary of $4,500. His purchase of the 65-cent stamp did not overly burden him.
Herman also gifted Willard a hodge-podge of other covers, the only requirement that they had something to do with aviation or included the words “Air Mail.” A sample provides a flavor of the range.
Two covers Willard received were addressed to Herman by one Herny O. Meisel of Clintonville, Wisconsin. Meisel was quite an enterprising fellow. He ran a sales and service office for Indian Motorcycle in Clintonville and was a vocal proponent of using motorcycles to transport mail from the hinterlands to airmail stops. The USPOD experimented with motorcycle courier service on the East Coast early in 1928 and authorized motorcycle feeder lines nationwide in the summer of that year, provided that they could pay for themselves. Meisel took advantage of the opportunity and carried mail from Clintonville to airmail terminals like the one in Green Bay.
Meisel was also a stamp collector, dealer and promoter, He produced cachets for sundry events like the 10th anniversary of Armistice Day (Figure 15) and the 25th anniversary of the Wright Brothers’ first flight (Figure 16). (I find his addition of the tagline “IMPORTANT Great Philatelic Value” on the Wright Brothers’ cover to be quite amusing.) He was a member of the American Air Mail Society and founded the short-lived American Flying Mail Association. He established and was president for almost 30 years of the American Metered Postage Society, which continues to this day as The Meter Stamp Society. In the 1940s, he turned his attention to designing first day cover cachets.


Aviation event covers also figure prominently in Willard’s collection. The first International Aeronautical Exposition took place in Chicago December 1-9, 1928 (Figure 17). It showcased 81 American-built planes and included more than 130 booths exhibiting aviation accessories like electrically heated clothing to keep toasty in unheated planes. The highlight was a Transcontinental Air Transport (TAT) passenger plane with a 78-foot wingspan, three engines of 420 horsepower each, and a “spacious cabin” with “two desks, seats for eight passengers, and sleeping quarters.” By way of comparison, a Boeing 737-800 has a wingspan of 113 feet, has two engines each of roughly 44,000 horsepower, and can seat a maximum of 189 people. Of course, there are no sleeping quarters to speak of. The TAT plane could have been yours for only $68,000, equivalent to about $1.3 million today.

The Chicago exposition was held just before the first International Civil Aeronautics Conference convened in Washington, DC. Meeting December 12-14, the conference achieved little of anything, but there was an official cancel, which Herman ensured Willard received (Figure 18). There were also two stamps issued for the conference, but those probably were not available in Milwaukee when the conference opened. Herman, however, made sure Willard got one on a later envelope (Figure 19).


One of the more frightening events if you were not paying attention to the news in southern Ohio was the “Army Air Maneuvers” centered around Norton Field in Columbus, Ohio May 18-25, 1929 (Figure 20). The Army wanted to simulate plane warfare, so it scheduled a 10-day “war” between Columbus (the “Red Army”) and Dayton (the “Blue Army”) that included 200 planes strafing opposing fields, driving off invaders in dog fights, and conducting mock bombing runs on large panels representing 800,000 ground troops. One of the Army’s massive “Keystone” bombers flew to New York and “theoretically devastated” Governor’s Island and Wall Street. (Wall Street would devastate itself about five months later in the crash that precipitated the Great Depression.) In one mock dog fight, two planes collided killing a pilot. Two other service members died in ground accidents. Despite those mishaps, the Aircraft Year Book of 1930 concluded that the maneuvers “demonstrated the value of aircraft as an arm of national defense.”

For pure excitement, however, nothing could have topped the National Air Races that took place in Cleveland over a 10-day period from late August to early September 1929 (Figure 21). The event featured 35 races, numerous aerobatic demonstrations, and appearances by famous aviators like Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart. One of the most touted races was the first official Women’s Air Derby – nicknamed the “Powder Puff Derby” by humorist Will Rogers – that started in Santa Monica, California and ended in Cleveland. Nineteen pilots competed flying a combination of heavy- and light-class planes. Fifteen completed the race including Louise Thaden who finished first in the heavy class and Phoebe Omlie who won the light class. The derby made 11 stops along the way, including one in Douglas, Arizona (Figure 22).


Aviation infrastructure, especially landing fields, grew rapidly during this period, and every airport dedication needed – you guessed it – a special cachet to honor the occasion. Willard ended up with several examples in his collection. The September 14, 1929, dedication of the New York Seaplane Airport in Port Washington, New York is an especially attractive one (Figure 23). The return address stamp of the “Aero Philatelic Society of Chicago” is a nice addition. The New York Seaplane Airport – now known as Sands Point Seaplane Base – was PAA’s base for its transatlantic Boeing 314 flights in 1939 and 1940.

Willard received a few more covers from Herman and PM Piasecki in early 1931, including a fine first day cover, sent via air mail, with a trio of the 1931 General Casimir Pulaski commemorative that was issued January 16, 1931, in Milwaukee and ten other cities.
After that date, the covers abruptly stopped, and the reason was a sad one: On May 18, 1931, Herman Charles Pietsch, a 30-year employee of the USPOD who worked his way up from the bottom to assistant postmaster, was arrested for stealing money from the mail.
Around Christmas time 1930, Postal Inspector R.M. Bates started investigating reports that money was being extracted from Milwaukee’s outgoing mail. On May 18, Bates watched Herman all day, and late in the afternoon, he saw Herman leave the outgoing mail section with a bundle of letters. Bates followed him to his private office, and as he entered, he saw Herman tear open a letter and extract a dollar bill. Bates found that Herman opened four other letters, two of which also held a dollar bill that Herman pocketed. Bates at once placed him under arrest. Herman commented upon being arrested, “What a damned fool.”
Initially, no suspicion was attached to Herman, and the thinking was a minor employee was responsible. Bates said, “It was finally by a process of elimination that we were forced to admit Pietsch was the man.” Bates continued, “Our evidence convinces us we are right, but personally I can scarcely believe it.”
Pietsch was arraigned before a federal court commissioner and admitted to pilfering the mail on various occasions totaling several hundred dollars. (The exact amount he stole was never determined.) At his arraignment, he called his actions “darn foolish” and the result of being “hard up” financially. That latter point fell on deaf ears because Herman was unmarried with no dependents, made $4,500 a year, and was estimated to have a net worth of $75,000, a sizeable sum in those days.
Herman’s “hard up” argument also was rebutted by a statement he made to Bates after his arrest. Bates testified that Herman said to him, “This is certainly a hell of a thing for me to do. I certainly did not need the money for I didn’t even spend all of my salary. I don’t know what made me take it other than to get some sort of a thrill in picking out the letters which contained money.”
PM Piasecki was distraught. After wiring Washington asking permission to suspend Pietsch pending disposition of his case, Piasecki went home sick. Piasecki later said, “This thing has come as a tremendous shock to me, for I have known Pietsch for a number of years personally, in addition to having worked intimately with him day after day during the years I have been postmaster. I would have wagered my right arm on his honesty and integrity. The only possible inference, in my mind, is that the man was money mad – mad in his desire to accumulate money.”
Herman was released on $1,500 bond, and the next day he was in a hospital being treated for carbon monoxide poisoning after an apparent suicide attempt.
People were perplexed by his arrest, with the Sheboygan Press expressing sympathy for him opining, “We cannot help but feel that a disorganized mind is in a large measure responsible.” He had been lifting money from the mail for months before he was caught, but the amounts were small. The Sheboygan Press, among others, concluded that “he acquired a mania for opening letters rather than a desire to rob.”
Herman’s case went to trial on Monday, December 12, 1932. The federal prosecutors called only two witnesses: PM Piasecki who explained how Herman’s position gave him access to the mail and Bates, who gave all the testimony supporting the charge.
The defense did not dispute the thefts and instead argued that Herman was “mentally unbalanced” when he committed the thefts and should be found not guilty by reason of insanity. They pointed to his attempted suicide the day after his arrest and his subsequent confinement in a sanatorium for two months. The insanity defense resulted in the trial becoming a battle of competing expert “alienists” – the 1930’s term for a “psychiatrist” – from the defense and prosecution.
Herman did not take the stand in his own defense and spent most of the trial staring at the floor, never making eye contact with the jury, witnesses, lawyers, or spectators. Several prominent businesspeople who were friends of Herman did testify to his character, as did his brother and sister-in-law. Herman had been living with them since 1921, and they were the ones who found Herman on the garage floor the morning of May 19, 1931, and rushed him to the hospital after his attempted suicide.
The jury began its deliberations Wednesday afternoon, and after 13 hours of debate and 16 ballots, it returned a verdict of “guilty” the morning of December 15, 1932. Herman showed little emotion when the verdict was read.
On January 4, 1933, Federal Judge F.A. Geiger sentenced Herman to five years at Leavenworth prison and fined him $2,500. When asked if he had anything to say before sentencing, Herman said, “I cannot comprehend myself in this position. I can’t seem to realize what has happened to me.”
Judge Geiger showed no leniency in sentencing Herman. Before handing down his penalty, Judge Geiger said, “The charge of which you were convicted is one that generally affects the more humble employees of the postal service, but that is not the case here. From your long service you were in a position where the hundreds of employees under you were to look up to you as an exemplar. The government has dealt generously with you, not only in the matter of promotion but in the way of financial rewards.” Judge Geiger also refused the defense’s motion for a new trial.
Herman spent the next two nights at the Milwaukee County jail. On the morning of January 6, 1933, dressed in a suit and tie and being spared the ignominy of handcuffs, Herman boarded a train to Kansas to serve his term.
Herman was paroled in July 1935 after serving 18 months and paid off the balance of his $2,500 fine in January 1936. He would never work again and passed away in Wisconsin in 1973 at age 93.
Remarkably, despite his travails, Herman never lost his passion for air mail because among the covers in Willard’s collection was one addressed to Herman in 1943 with a cachet celebrating the 25th anniversary of air mail service (Figure 24).

The last cover in Willard’s scrapbook is from 1944 with a cachet for the 59th convention of the American Philatelic Society held in Milwaukee that year (Figure 25). Maybe Uncle Herman arranged for this cover to be sent because Willard was nowhere near Milwaukee at the time. Willard went to work for Allis-Chalmers, a tractor and heavy machinery manufacturer, after graduating from high school in 1939 (Figure 26), but after the United States entered World War II, Willard enlisted in the Navy in 1942 and served aboard a destroyer escorting convoys across the Atlantic for the duration. He was discharged from the Navy in October 1945.


After the war, Willard earned a degree in electrical engineering from the University of Wisconsin, and he was living and working in Chicago by 1950. In the late 1950s, he was in New York State, and by the early 1960s, he was living in California where he would remain for the rest of his life. He passed away in 2014 or 2015 at age 93 or 94, about the same as Uncle Herman.
As for the other characters in this story, Milo Willard married and remained in Wisconsin until she retired to Florida in the early 1980s. She passed away at age 87 in 2001. PM Piasecki served as Milwaukee postmaster until 1936. He passed away at age 91 in 1967.
It does not appear that Willard was a lifelong stamp collector, or if he was, he was a very low-key one. That said, he took decent care of the album – really more of a scrapbook – in which he stored the covers he received from Herman and PM Piasecki. Some covers are a bit toned, but none show damage from paper-loving bugs or humidity, and the photo corners he used to attach the covers to the pages left no marks.
To me, this suggests that Willard hung on to this album because the covers were a cherished childhood memory. They brought to mind a time when, quite literally, the sky was the limit. No doubt Herman’s legal troubles were a blow to Willard and his family, and Willard’s service in the Navy during World War II was no cakewalk. But in my mind, I see Willard in his golden ages flipping through the pages of his scrapbook reflecting on the “Golden Age of Flight.”
Resources:
American Air Mail Catalogue, Volume One, Seventh Edition. American Air Mail Society, 2014.
Aircraft Year Book, 1928 through 1931. Aeronautical Chamber of Commerce of America, Inc. New York City.
2025 Scott Specialized Catalogue of United Stamps & Covers. Amos Media. Released October 2024.
Comments