The air in the outdoor corridor is heavy with anticipation, along with the usual fetid mix of urine and alcohol.
With the imminent arrival of the postal carrier, a small group of women is gathering outside the mailboxes of the Henry Horner Annex public housing development on the West Side.
They wait in the darkened corridor-the overhead light is out again-trying to avoid the murky puddles and eyeing a bank of mail slots that is the postal equivalent of a stripped Camaro.
There is a gap of three boxes where some wise guys set off firecrackers. Numerous other cavities dot the facade. The locks are broken on some boxes, and still others are jammed shut and unresponsive to keys.
At least 27 of the 73 mailboxes are not working on this day, and because it is the first of the month, when federal disability checks are due to arrive, some of the women figure it is in their best interest to greet the mailman personally.
Josie Mae Brown is the first on the corridor crew this morning. Brown, 54, who has heart problems and is a diabetic, is awaiting her monthly SSI check, the Supplemental Security Income she receives for her disabilities.
She doesn`t particularly like the idea of waiting-”It`s dangerous. Somebody could hit you from this way, or somebody could hit you from that way”-but her mailbox has no door.
Gardner Bailey, 48, is skipping a class she`s taking to earn a high school diploma. Her mailbox door won`t lock, and she, too, is expecting an SSI check.
”I make sure I`m here because you can`t lose your income,” says Bailey, who would rather be in class. ”That`s all a person got. So I`m Johnny on the spot.”
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The mailboxes have been a disaster from anywhere between a few months and a few years, depending on who`s talking.
In a world where gangs and drug dealing are commonplace, where the elevators often don`t work and where the playground jungle gym is barren of swings, the broken mailboxes are just another bitter inconvenience.
The women look out for each other-even on days when checks aren`t scheduled to arrive. When one isn`t downstairs, another will get her mail and slide it under the door. And Brenda Sanders, 45, has assumed the daily responsibility of redelivering the mail that the postal carrier has left in unsecured boxes. The vigilance of the women has prevented any instances of stolen welfare checks.
Persistence, however, has not paid off with the Chicago Housing Authority, the women say. Despite their complaints, the situation only gets worse, says Maurine Woodson, 50, who is executive director of the Henry Horner Homes Mother`s Guild.
Several of the women, though they have little money to begin with, have rented boxes at the neighborhood post office six blocks away to make sure they get their mail. Woodson rents a large one because, as a housing and schools activist, she receives a lot of mail; it costs her $72 a year.
At the seven-story Henry Horner Annex, the Postal Service is responsible only for the little room behind the mailboxes from where the carrier distributes the mail. It is not responsible for the condition of the boxes themselves.
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The CHA, which is responsible for the boxes, at least seems to be aware of their condition.
”We have a problem in many of our buildings with mail delivery,” says CHA spokeswoman Katie Kelly. ”The carriers are threatened. The boxes are vandalized. People don`t feel they can trust having anything sent to their box. When we do make the repairs, they get vandalized right away.”
The CHA, she says, has had better results with keeping the mailboxes in working order when it has gone in and secured buildings, making residents show identification before they can enter and installing security guards.
There is not enough money to secure all the CHA`s 160 high-rise buildings, Kelly says, but officials are willing to work with residents to find other solutions to the mail problem.
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The first thing postal carrier Bill Lyles, 49, does after unlocking the postal room is grab his broom. The open boxes make it easy for some residents to toss debris into his work station. Into the corridor, he sweeps shards of glass from a broken flask of liquor.
”You wouldn`t believe how popular I am on the first of the month,” he says as he tries to sort mail into the proper slots. The corridor crowd is larger on check days, and Lyles is peppered with questions from a dozen or so residents who pester him from the other side.
”You don`t have anything for Harris, right?” he is asked.
”You on the third floor, sir?”
”Are you the regular guy?”
Lyles has only been the regular mail carrier since October, so he`s still memorizing the complex set of maneuvers that residents ask of him to get mail safely into their hands.
For Brenda Sanders, that means her mail, which would normally go to 601
(no door), and her daughter`s mail, which ought to go to 503 (faulty lock), should be placed in 708, which belongs to another daughter and also happens to be a box that works.
But as Lyles is getting ready to leave, Sanders still hasn`t received her SSI check. She is questioning Lyles about the missing check when Gardner Bailey from 707 informs them that she has found Sanders` check in her box.
”That`s OK, Billy, I know you know me,” Sanders tells Lyles.
Then she gathers up the mail she`s collected and begins the second, unofficial, phase of mail delivery at the Horner Annex.
Brown walks back to her apartment, check in hand, but that doesn`t mean she`s happy. ”It wasn`t no good day,” she says. ”It`s cold out here.”