Imagine being seven years old again and excitedly writing a letter to an imaginary friend or beloved TV character. After the letter is folded up and hastily shoved into an envelope, it is put into the mailbox with full confidence that it will soon arrive at its destination. But since the character that is meant to receive it is imaginary, a delivery isn’t possible. Where, then, might this letter have gone?
Here at Otterbein, mail addressed to seeming fictional characters, such as imaginary childhood friends, has been arriving in the mailroom regularly. All of this mail has one thing in common: It has all been addressed to 123 W. Main St. From people who have been gone for years, to people who never existed at all, 123 W. Main St. receives mail addressed to each of them.
What exactly sits upon the address 123 W. Main, you may ask? There is no house, no fallen building or historical landmark — nothing. It is a made-up address on campus that has been receiving mail for several years. If it were to be a real place, its approximate location would be the manhole cover that is outside of the library, near the pedestrian crosswalk.
James Shrewsbury, manager of mailing and printing operations on campus, has been working in Otterbein’s mailroom since 1997 but has only been receiving mail addressed to 123 W. Main St. for the past few years. He has taken quite an interest in this mail, which is delivered to the mailroom two or three times per month. In the past, Shrewsbury recalls throwing most of the mail in the trash. He then started collecting it as it began to increase, and he thought it was amusing.
“For me, it’s kind of funny,” Shrewsbury said, as he revealed pieces of mail that were addressed to Bobo Jones and Bill Goat.
What he speculated as an ongoing prank that has grown throughout the past few years, both the mail and its nonexistent destination have sparked curiosity and provided entertainment throughout the mailroom staff.
There is a possible explanation as to how the mail has kept coming in. Any time someone writes down his or her information, whether it is to become a potential winner of a free iPad or to complete a survey, that information, specifically the address, is kept on file by list brokers. Companies then rent these lists from the brokers when they wish to send mail to a particular demographic of people.
Some of the names that received the bulk of the mail sent to 123 W. Main are names such as Elaine Smith, John Smith and Chad Morrison. Each of them received multiple pieces of mail, left only to pile up and collect dust in Otterbein’s mailroom.
All of the potentially interesting and alluring mail, such as tightly sealed and stamped love letters or debt collections, were returned to sender or forwarded to their rightful location, as they are first class mail and cannot be opened without a search warrant.
The mail that Shrewsbury is left with is considered pre-sorted bulk rate, or standard mail. Examples of this type of mail include advertisements, magazines, brochures and coupons — what most people throw out and refer to as “junk mail.”
When students were asked if they knew anything about 123 W. Main St. and the mail it has been receiving, they said they had never heard of such thing.
“I’m thoroughly entertained,” said Angel Romina, a sophomore history education major, as she looked through some of the mail. “It’s a waste of resources but thoroughly entertaining.”
As for now, 123 W. Main St. remains an unresolved mystery. Hopefully one day, the pranksters will step forth so that more information may be obtained about this aloof address and the mail it receives.
