He knew the German shepherd was a contender, a detester of men in uniforms. There is a certain look in a dog's eye the seasoned mail carrier comes to recognize.

John W. Davis Jr. wasn't necessarily afraid of the shepherd, especially since his owner had the beast firmly by the collar as they conversed.

It was the unseen menace that nailed the mailman. The little mutt came flying out of the crack in the door, latched onto his leg a good one and wouldn't let loose of his pant leg after the dirty deed was done.

"It really was like a cartoon," Davis said, reminiscing about one moment in 34-1/2 years as a mail carrier. "I never knew about the little guy and stood there shaking my leg with him on the end of it, backing down the sidewalk."

Old Brown bit him once, too. Brown belonged to an older couple and he had a fit whenever Davis came down Lyon Street with mail. If he would visit the house on personal business (the couple had a lawn mower repair shop at their home) Brown was as nice a dog as one could ask.

He was only dog-bitten twice, though, and that's not bad for a third generation mail carrier.

His grandfather, Samuel, worked for the railroad in the mail car. Davis' father, John W. Sr., worked for the Warsaw post office, retiring in 1957.

Davis Jr. will retire Saturday.

When he began his career he was 26, having spent a lot of time on the waiting list because military veterans were given preference at the time.

When Davis joined the postal service, the price of a stamp was 5 cents.

He survived the 1985 reorganization of the postal service, making it a semi-governmental agency; the run UPS gave the USPO for the nation's parcel post business; and 34 winters of snowy sidewalks and icy porch steps. He has delivered to just about every home and business in old Warsaw.

During his time, stamps have evolved from the lick-'em and stick-'em sort to the peel-'em and place-'em variety.

Warsaw had only one zip code when he started the job in July 1966; now it has three.

Today he runs the largest route, making 580 stops on his eight-hour shift, riding half his route and walking the rest.

He knows who lives where and how long they've been at that address. He has seen a generation born, grow up and move to another address.

People move around more now than they did when he first started his career.

He delivered the mail along a narrow Ind. 15 as well as during the highway's lengthy expansion project. He still zips in and out of traffic now delivering correspondence down lanes in the off-the-road mailboxes.

The sanitary sewer installation project on Park Avenue was another time that tried men's souls, making for hazardous walking and driving.

Besides letters, packages and business correspondence, he has delivered live bees, baby chicks and, once this summer, tadpoles.

He discovered a big fish carcass in a mailbox a few years back.

"I don't know if it was put in there as a prank or as a brag," he said of the fish, "but it sure was drawing flies. It was hotter than the dickens out that day."

Over the years he's seen a tremendous change in postal habits, delivering fewer and fewer personal letters and more and more mail generated by businesses.

"Every day I'm asked how to get the junk mail to stop," he said. "And I have no idea how to stop it."

Despite all the daily exercise, Davis was stopped for a while in 1995 when he had quintuple by-pass heart surgery. Walking was recommended as part of his recovery, so he went back to work. Other than that, he's in good health.

He's not too sad to be leaving the postal service in the middle of winter, especially this one.

Folks don't shovel their sidewalks like they used to and Davis uses the street often, making for a longer but safer route around town.

Davis remembers the days when Christmas rush pushed the post office to the limit, when everyone sent everybody a Christmas card during the holidays.

"Even if they would be seeing the person the next day at work, they would send them a Christmas card," he said. "We were bombed and couldn't swallow it all."

When Davis first joined the postal service he "cased," the USPO term for sorting the mail by route. He would spend all night casing Christmas cards and come in to do it all over again the next night.

The holiday hurry has slowed to a stroll, although there were plenty of Dec. 24 and Dec. 25 packages delvered this year.

Most mail is sorted by machine now using the nine-digit zip code. Larger items, magazines, newspapers and the like, are organized by hand on the route.

The mail is carried in canvas bags now instead of leather. Davis preferred the cowhide.

"I hung on to mine as long as I could," he said.

As postal rates increased, so did the size of Davis' family. He and his wife, Barbara, have three children: Cindy and her husband, Joe Kimmell, and their two children; Sandy and her husband, Clay Layne, who are expecting their first child; and John W. Davis Jr., who is married to Holly.

Davis expects his post-post office schedule to be busy.

His grandchildren, Sam and Barbie Kimmel, participate in regional quarter midget races in Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Illinois. A former race car driver himself, Davis plans to follow the circuit and cheer on his grandkids after retirement.

He and Barbara will be spending more time "a junkin'" - combing through area garage sales for treasures and bargains.

"All in all, it's been good working for the post office," Davis said.

Through all the sleet and hail, rain and lightning, and the dog days of summer, he's learned a few things about the weather and keeping at a job that never seems to end.

He knows, too, which canines have a certain look and, now that he's about to be out of uniform, he can be more at ease in their company. [[In-content Ad]]