Vol. II No. 19 10/1/2021
The Brothers Wilcox
Telephones in Stockbridge, a very short history
By Rick Wilcox
When our family home was on Park Street our phone number was 266 and when you picked up the phone you heard 'number please.' Research for this article was limited to having a conversation with my brother Michael. He remembered the phone numbers and we both had similar stories about phone service in Stockbridge. I asked the operator to connect me with the library as my mother had said she was stopping by the historical room to visit with my grandmother Grace Wilcox. The operator said my mother has left the library and she saw her crossing the street headed to Coakley's store. My grandmother often said she would rather walk to town from Yale Hill to talk to someone than use the phone. When we moved to East Main Street our phone number changed to 246-J and it was a party line shared with the Nelson family. One ring for us and two rings for the Nelson's. Mrs. Nelson did love to talk, so from time to time we had to pick up the phone and ask her if we could use the phone. If an emergency arose in town the operator would hit a switch in the phone office, which would turn on a blue light that was on a light pole in front of Braman's Dry Goods Store (44 Main) and when the officer happened to drive by and would see the blue light and he would swing over to Elm Street to find out what emergency needed attention. Technology reached East Main Street from the new telephone building on Pine Street about 1960 and our new number was 3557. Townspeople were quite upset some years later when informed they would have to add 298 and dial all seven numbers. Townspeople expressed concern about the delay in reaching the police cruiser. In 1963 radio phone was installed at a cost to the caller of thirty cents per call. More than one officer commented, with pleasure, on the reduction in calls to the radio phone. By 1964 Chief Obanhein's annual town report he expressed displeasure with the radio phone's high cost, poor maintenance by the phone company and that the residents were reluctant to spend 30 cents for a call.
Michael Wilcox chimes in
Nicely done, Rick. I might add a couple of notes — 30 cents doesn't sound like much, but I remember that when we lived on South Lee Road (circa 1960), your mother would send me to the store down the street in South Lee (which also housed the Post Office) and tell me to bring back a loaf of bread and a quart of milk. She told me I could spend the change on penny candy — she then gave me a quarter.
Also, when dial telephones came into being, they really did have dials — the push-button model came later. If you wanted to call other towns, though, you had to dial "0" for Operator, and then ask for the Long-Distance Operator.
Did you ever go upstairs to see the telephone switchboard? It took up most of a large room and had a huge panel with lots of lights and places to plug in the cords that would connect one incoming phone call with the number they requested. The Operator was current on all town gossip since there was no limit to the number of calls she could listen in on. And the operators were always women.
Before the Days of Dial Phones
By Michael Forbes Wilcox
I think dial phones came to Stockbridge in 1960. When they did, every number in town belonged to a single exchange, so in order to dial a number within Stockbridge, it was only necessary to dial the last four digits. Our number on South Lee Road was 3557. That replaced our old number of 246-J. The "J" indicated it was a party line, and we would answer only if we heard the correct number of rings.
Prior to dial phones, an operator directed the calls. As a small child, I lived on Park Street, where our number was 266. One day, when I came home from school, my mother was not around. I'm not sure that had ever happened before, and I didn't quite know what to do. In those days, she worked at the church, and I decided to call there to see if she was there. I had not used the phone very much, but I did know that if you picked up the receiver, the voice of the operator would say, "Number, please" and you could tell her who you wanted to call. I didn't know the number of the church, but I figured she would.
So I picked up the phone, and instead of what I expected, I heard "Operator" — I was dumbstruck, not knowing how to respond. What did she mean? Being flustered, I just hung up the receiver. I thought about it for a minute and decided to try again. It had probably been a mistake, and if I tried again, I would get the expected "Number, please."
I picked up the phone again, and again I heard "Operator." Now I was totally at a loss, so I just stood there with my mouth open, not knowing what to say.
"Hello, can I help you?" I heard coming from the phone. Oh, yes, that was something I understood. "I want to call my mother at the church," I said.
"Your mother is no longer at the church. She is visiting your grandmother at the library, and she will be home soon."
"Okay, thank you."
That is my earliest memory of being flummoxed by the disembodied voices that flow out of telephones.
Stranded Maple? Photo: Joan Gallos.