🚀 go-pugleaf

Someone the other day asked, 'Have the public telegraph offices mostly been
replaced by the 800 phone service?'

The answer is yes. The 800 service along with personal terminals and accounts
on Easy Link for hundreds of companies which used to rely on telex and/or
TWX have virtually decimated the telegram, and the telegraph public office.

I mentioned that in small (and some medium size) towns, Western Union did
not actually own the facilities, but operated through an agent; someone
who had other things going on as well, such as the local agent for the bus
lines; now and then the local (independent and rural) telco office, etc.

In larger cities such as Chicago, St. Louis, New York, Boston, Los Angeles
and similar, Western Union operated their own public message centers. The
Chicago office is well etched in my mind, in the 1955-60 time period.

The office was 1930-ish Art Deco design. It was about the size of a typical
high school basketball gymnasium, with the same sort of vaulted ceilings.
In front, several small writing desks, like in a bank, where one would stand
and write out the message on a form submitted to the clerk. The fountain
pens were chained to the counter so they could not be stolen. A large
calendar on the wall, and of course, the 'telegraph clock'.

At the counter, which was marble, three or four places for clerks, although
there were usually just one or two on duty at a time. Behind them, nine
or ten rather large, somewhat noisy teletype machines. Usually there were
two operators attending all the machines; they would walk to one, peer
at the paper feeding out, look at the next machine, etc. Sitting down at
a machine, these operators -- invariably men, although the counter clerks
were frequently women -- would type messages and receive them.

The room had a constant din from the machines. One or more was constantly
typing. A small bell, driven by a <control-G> just like today would go
'bing bing bing' and the motor inside the machine would start going with
a soft sort of whirring noise. Maybe two seconds later the keys would
start printing and the carriage would move back and forth on the platen.
As quickly as it started, it would stop. The motor would shut off, and
the machine would go silent. But the starting and stopping could not
be predicted. Sometimes all would be running, other times just two or
three. Just as one would stop, another would start. And the men would
walk around, gather up paper from each and give it to the clerks at the
counter. One machine would stop, and immediatly bing! bing! another one
would start.

The operators seemed to be fast typists. Picking up a piece of paper from
the clerk, one would sit at a machine and begin typing -- quite fast it
seemed to me at the time, although I learned later they were only going
about 60 baud, or some ridiculous pace by today's standards. And always
with a cigarette hanging out of their lips as they sat there banging away.

The clerk functioned much like a school teacher grading an essay paper.
You'd take your message to the counter written out, and with a red pencil
the clerk would say, "what's this word here?", "how do you spell that
name?", "I can't read your writing, you will have to go back and print it
over again".

When satisfied, she'd count the words and looking at a chart say, "well,
that's fifteen words, gimme dollar seventy five". You would pay, and she
would hand the message over to the operators for typing into the network.

 From time to time the operators would hand over messages to the clerk, who
would speak loudly, "Smith? John Smith?", and if Smith was waiting around
for his message, he would come to the counter to get it. Sometimes it would
be registered, meaning he signed for it, and the operator would send back
a message to the other end saying delivery had been made. If Smith could
not be located in the office, then a messenger -- either a twelve year old
kid or a seventy five year old man -- they seemed to have no one in the
middle age at all doing this work -- would take the message and set
off on a bicycle to deliver the message to Smith at his office or home.

Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week this went on. If money was
wired to you, they would write a check payable to you, which you were free
to endorse and cash right there if the clerk had enough money in the
drawer, or you could cash it elsewhere.

If you just hung around the place all day, talking to the people coming
and going, you got quite an education and heard the life stories of everyone
passing through, it seemed.

Patrick Townson