In the course of my lifetime, the telephone has gone from relatively rare to ubiquitous, from wall to pocket, and from rotary dial to cell. From no intelligence whatsoever to smart and then to very smart. Revolutionary changes.
When I was growing up in Flatbush, our family was prosperous enough to have a telephone (not everyone did), but the device was only employed for local calls, never for "long distance." Non-local calls were prohibitively expensive and were only for deaths. To be called to the phone by long-distance was ominous.
Before the innovation of seven-digit dialing, we were Windsor 6-2077. Sometime after WWII, our exchange was altered from WI 6 to GEdney 6. To me, this was an early indication that the world was unstable and would be filled with ups and downs. One day we were a Windsor, a royal house, and the next day we were a Gedney, a brand of dill pickle.
Every telephone in existence looked exactly like this one. The idea that they would ever look otherwise was inconceivable.
For a month of so in the late 1950s, I had a job operating an old-fashioned switchboard at the Sears warehouse on Utica Avenue -- definitely my most satisfying telephone-related experience, lifetime. Ah that lovely click when the plug fully entered its receptacle! A delight! The one I sat at looked almost exactly like this:
In my short time at the console, I became quite a proficient operator, only cutting off important calls a handful of times. It's hard to believe that such an antiquated-looking machine was still in use when I was a lad.
We must also recall the almost extinct telephone booth -- often out of order, because someone wielded a crowbar to make off with nickels and dimes. And smelly. Plus, one never had the right change when needing it most. I do not mourn the passing of the phone booth.
When we moved to Vermont in 1968, the Topsham Telephone Company had not yet switched to seven digit dialing. Our home number was high-prestige 21, but we were jealous of the family whose number was 9. Ours was a four-party line -- also a thing of the past. I wonder whether my grandchildren have ever heard the phrase "party-line." Or "rotary dial," for that matter.
When AT&T was deregulated and the market was thrown open to innovation, there came a great explosion of telephone styles. Phones blossomed into many odd colors and configurations. For a while, we owned one of these:
The Simpson phone was not my initiative but that of one of the younger members of the family.
But more change was in the works. The prediction that there would be pocket phones in the future seemed fantastical science fiction-y. All phones had to be connected with wires -- otherwise how could the sound get out of the wall and into the handset. I scoffed.
Nowadays, everyone carries a cell phone. But it's not just a phone -- it's a computer. It does everything -- perhaps too much. There is substance to the frequently heard complaint that some individuals, especially young 'uns, relate more readily to their cell than to the person sitting next to them. It's a paradox: with more potential communication comes more loneliness. I myself must admit that there's a fascination to the cell phone that is disarming. I'm trying not be allow myself to be addicted. But there is something wonderful about a machine that lets you not only speak with but to actually see your daughter, who is a thousand miles away. Not a trick that a rotary phone could perform.
Not to be an alarmist or a Luddite, there's a serious downside to the cell. It seems as though the machine might be reorganizing youthful brains-- with unknown consequences,
Scenes like this one have become scarily familiar:
Look up, children, look up! Please look up!
Brilliant, wonderful piece.
Posted by: Tom Cartelli | February 22, 2023 at 12:38 PM
I recall Gedney, Ingersoll, Esplinade, Bowling Green, Buckminster, Dewey, and Nightingale. Gedney 4-4387.Easier to remember that the one I have now.
Posted by: Don Z. Block | February 16, 2023 at 12:05 PM