The phone is such an integral part of modern life that it’s easy to forget that for years after Alexander Graham Bell patented it in 1876, it was considered a toy. That was certainly the case in San Francisco, and there was a reason for the skepticism among the population: The development of the telephone service here was accompanied by an above-average number of incorrect numbers and disconnections. The story of the early San Francisco telephone system is a little-known and fascinating chapter in the annals of communications for a city famous as an innovator in the field.

The city’s first electrical communication system used the precursor to the telephone, the telegraph, and was developed in response to the famous San Francisco fog. During the gold rush it was valuable information for traders to know which ships were arriving at the Golden Gate, so in 1850 two entrepreneurs set up an observation station on a hill in the city center that the Spaniards called Loma Alta. From here they forwarded information via semaphore to the traders’ exchanges in the financial district. To get the information even earlier, a year later they set up a second observation station at Point Lobos, known as the outer station, which visually relayed the information to the inner station on the Loma Alta through a system of semaphores and signals. This system worked fine on a clear day, but in foggy conditions the semaphores were invisible. So in 1853 the two men built an eight-mile telegraph line from the outer station to the inner station, which later became known as Telegraph Hill.

As the young city grew and businesses moved further away from the small area around Montgomery Street, business professionals and freelancers increasingly needed a high-speed communications system. They turned to an innovative telegraph system operated by a company called the American District Telegraph Company. As described in “A Historical Review of the San Francisco Exchange,” a book published in 1927 by the Pacific Telephone and Telegraph Company, that company, founded in 1874, maintained “a telegraphic call box system similar to the messenger call boxes that still exist today use. The boxes were installed in the offices of the city’s main trading companies and professionals. By simply pressing the correct button on a rotary dial, a subscriber could send his request to the control center, where the signal would be recorded on tape. One of a large group of messenger boys employed by the telegraph company was immediately dispatched to call the taxi, policeman, doctor, or whatever party they wanted to the address where services were needed. “The” tape ” on which the signal was recorded resembled the stock market ticker tape invented in 1867.

The city’s first telephone appeared in 1876, and Bell patented his invention that same year. It was an experimental line built between Meiggs’ Wharf off North Beach and the Merchant’s Exchange building in the Financial District. The next year the first handy phone line was set up for Frederick Marriott, an English banker and editor who was not only the first to use the phone on the West Coast, but also a visionary promoter of air travel. (In 1869, Marriott’s prototype of the Avitor unmanned aerial vehicle successfully orbited a field near Tanforan – the first American flight of a motorized and steerable aircraft.) The line connected Marriott’s Lombard and Jones home and its newspaper office on Merchant Street.

The city’s first telephone company was called the Gold and Stock Telegraph Company, which also included the American District Telegraph Company. In 1877 the company installed its first switchboard in its office at 222 Sansome Street. There were only 18 telephones in the system. The switchboard was a crude device made up of two boards, each holding a series of brass clips into which a switchboard operator inserted brass plugs tied with cotton-sheathed wire to establish a connection between the participants’ lines. Telephoning was not an easy thing. There was no way for customers to call the attendant. To make a call, they first had to send a telegraph to the district telegraph office, which was in the same room as the switchboard. As with the call box system discussed above, the telegraphic message was recorded on tape and forwarded to the operator, who would then connect the customer to the desired line.

The Gold and Stock Telegraph Company soon changed its name to the American Speaking Telephone Company and acquired a competitor, the National Bell Telephone Company. This rival company set up a series of bells, one over each line, that rang when a call came in. But the ringing sounded so similar that the operators had difficulty identifying which line was calling. They solved this problem by hanging a cork on the tenon of each bell with an 18-inch string. Whenever a call came in, the line could be identified by the bob of the cork.

After several years of intense competition, many of which vied for patents, the American Speaking Telephone Company and the National Bell Company consolidated into the Pacific Bell Telephone Company in 1880. But the new company still had a peculiar customer service problem to solve. As the Historical Review notes, “Until shortly after the two companies merged, the switchboards were operated by teenage boys. The friendly relations between the telephone company and its patrons were repeatedly jeopardized by the tendency of these young fellows to use improper language. Your usual “hello hello what do you want?” and “Are you done? Well, why don’t you hang up? ”Didn’t seem like the right way to talk to customers to company officials. Attempts to instill in the boys the need to be polite proved unsuccessful and they were eventually transferred to other jobs, with women being replaced in their place. “

Despite the teens’ dubious track record, Pacific Bell kept her busy night shift for several years believing that women didn’t want to work at night. But one night, responding to numerous customer complaints about poor service, the company’s vice president made an unannounced inspection visit and found the boys curled up next to their switchboards, snoring to themselves. “The boys were released and women were put to night work,” says the “Review” and adds: “Since then, telephone operations have been considered to be just as peculiarly feminine as the home.”

San Francisco’s nascent phone industry was out of diapers, but it had to overcome many obstacles before it could become a practical means of mass communication. The next portals will tell the story of these trials and tribulations, from the romantic years in which two-man “long-line patrols” led a gypsy-like existence in order to track down interruptions in long-distance lines, to inexpensive one-way kitchen phones for housewives, one of whom one hoped they would then order full-service phones, right down to the first payphones that could defraud unscrupulous customers by rubbing the coin box with a comb.

Gary Kamiya is the author of the bestseller “Cool Gray City of Love: 49 Views of San Francisco”. His latest book is “Spirits of San Francisco: Voyages Through the Unknown City”. All material in Portals of the Past is original for The San Francisco Chronicle. To read previous portals in the past, go to sfchronicle.com/portals.

The final quiz question: What unusual items covered the floor in Gold Rush San Francisco?

Answers: Shirts. Laundry was so expensive that many 49ers just tossed their dirty shirts on the floor.

This week’s question: Who was known as “the rudest waiter in the world”?

See morecollapse

The post The beginning of San Francisco’s phone system appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

When I moved into my studio apartment in Inner Richmond in 2019, one particular amenity struck me as a little unusual.

Like most of the aging apartment buildings, mine had its quirks: an ironing board that could be folded out of the wall, a radiator that hissed and clinked at night, a doorbell that was decades old and made a sound that I only thought of as one Can describe hungry goat bleating. But what intrigued me most was an alcove in the wall that had a slightly rusted old phone – much like I remember from the iconic phone call scene in It’s a Wonderful Life.

Made of gray steel, the device also had an earphone attached to a cord that could be removed from a small hook. On the front of the device was a button and a small speaker that probably hadn’t been used for decades.

The intercom in the writer’s apartment.

Amanda Bartlett / SFGATE

Being curious, I asked my landlord, who shrugged and said that I was probably right – that this was probably an ancient means of communication used by tenants when they had to pick up the phone and speak to an operator, to be connected to another party to talk. But he also had a secret suspicion that it might be an intercom system used by residents to speak to a guest waiting outside in the lobby, similar to the buzzers that many modern homes have today.

In search of a specific answer, I decided to reach out to Rick Prelinger, co-founder of the Prelinger Library on 8th and Folsom, which contains an archival collection of ephemera, magazines, maps, and books from the 19th and 20th centuries.

“These are ubiquitous in Richmond,” he said, noting that he had a similar alcove in the wall of his own house, and while the intercom was gone he had seen it in friends’ homes as well as the internet archive headquartered on Clement Street and Funston Avenue.

The old intercom in Mary Brunson’s Nob Hill apartment.

Courtesy Mary Ann Brunson

Prelinger went on to explain that these amenities, which were widespread in the 1920s, were used to sell homes when home builders brought large numbers of them to market.

“Developers and communities were competing for buyers,” he said. “If you pull out a pre-depression section of real estate, you will see all sorts of attempts to make certain offerings look more unique – think granite countertops, media rooms, etc. Today we can think of these as a kind of luxury amenity aimed at mass consumption was reduced. You may not have a butler to answer the door, but you could at least keep your distance from those of lower social standing and ring your doorbell. “

This was checked as my building was built in 1927.

Interestingly, Prelinger added, these accessories were often accompanied by levers at the top of the stairs that opened the front door when pulled – another curiosity we also examined.

“When craftsmen came to visit, you could tell them to go to the so-called“ Handwerkergasse ”,” he said. “That also applied to food deliveries. Delivery men could put food directly from behind in kitchen ice boxes – wooden shelves with ice. And if you had friends who came over to call them, an intercom might have felt like a stylish way to let them in. “

John Freeman, a former teacher and carpenter who lived in Richmond for almost all 80 years of his life, said he remembered an earlier version of the intercom in his childhood apartment on 6th Avenue across from Frank McCoppin Elementary School. Built in 1917 – his parents bought the building in 1950 when Freeman was 9 years old – it had what he called a “less sophisticated ‘speaking tube'”, similar to the tin can and cord phones many of us use when Children have played.

Freeman, now a historian, confirmed that the “thinness and height” of the alcove that housed my gray intercom phone was intended for a rotary candlestick phone, although today’s intercom is likely a newer version of the convenience that became widespread. This was a clue of the changing neighborhood as what was once Point Lobos Avenue (now Geary Boulevard) turned from a commercial street to apartment buildings where “artisans who helped build the rest of the neighborhood.”

The niches were for both a normal phone and the intercom. Not sure this is the same manufacturer but could help you on your way. https://t.co/A29gcLv8Lq pic.twitter.com/1qVbBeFFCi

– David Gallagher (@DavidGallagher) September 22, 2021

Pam Wright, a former manager of the Phoenix Hotel on Eddy Street, said she spotted one of the intercoms when she moved into her 18-unit apartment building in Outer Richmond in 2005. The best thing about it? It was still working, and she used it for several years to summon people in the foyer of her building.

When the aging system finally began to fail, the owners of their building removed it and installed a modernized system with an electronic directory. Each tenant’s name is appended to a two-digit code that visitors can dial to reach them, and Wright said her name is linked to her cell phone so she can answer and allow someone to enter the building to get a package to deliver when she is not at home.

“It’s not as quaint as the old intercom system, but it’s very convenient,” said Wright.

But she still has the phone itself and uses the alcove as a space to display some of the historic San Francisco ephemera she has collected over the years, including tickets to the 1939 Golden Gate International Exposition and a brochure from the Holiday Lodge on Van Ness Avenue, where she worked before being razed in the 1990s.

Pam Wright, who lives in Outer Richmond, shows historical ephemera from San Francisco in the corner of her intercom system.

Courtesy Pam Wright

Although Prelinger said these intercoms were particularly common in Richmond, I was surprised that many people across San Francisco had them too.

Yes, in the marina. The doorbell rings, it’s still hanging on my doorbell (I’m on the third floor) and so I can call people in through the gate. But can’t talk about it. pic.twitter.com/mSr3riAHdQ

– Alessandra is a waste (@wastedtoday) September 22, 2021

We have one too! Covered in thick gloss paint but I love it. During the pandemic, the mouthpiece has come in handy for taking off our “doorbell masks”. pic.twitter.com/xJKGWq5zKu

– Rob Bell (@robbellrobbell) September 22, 2021

Mike McConnell, who lives in the Mission District, and Faye’s Coffee & Espresso Bar on the 18th empty corner to display his paintings – while the other still serves as a device to let guests in.

“It’s a very loud buzzer,” he said.

Mission District resident Mike McConnell – also the owner of Fayes Video & Espresso Bar – placed one of his paintings in the alcove of his wall where one of the intercoms was once, while the other intercom still works today.

Courtesy Mike McConnell

Mary Brunson, whose apartment in Nob Hill was built in 1911, said she noticed her own unusual intercom phone when she moved in 2017. However, it was covered with a thick layer of white.

“At first I thought, ‘What kind of disgusting, painted-over thing is that?'” Brunson said.

She tried to remove the device by peeling off some paint to open it and unscrew it from the wall. As the paint began to peel off, she noticed a rich brown wood and something gold that was hidden beneath it. When removing larger chunks of paint, she exposed the device in its original state.

“I knew it would never work as a phone again, but I thought it could work as something to keep little things in,” Brunson said. She removed the wiring inside and now uses it as a secret “hiding place”.

The old intercom in Mary Brunson’s Nob Hill apartment.

Courtesy Mary Ann Brunson

Deceased or not, I wondered why so many apartment buildings still had the devices. As with Wright, some of them have given way to modern technologies such as the “buzzer” systems that are found in many homes today. Some of the other residents I spoke to, like Brunson, suggested that they may have been received by the builders out of “sheer laziness”. I don’t think either of these answers is wrong, but what was my most interesting discovery in all of this was that whether or not their intercom phones were working, people seemed genuinely proud to have them, themselves when the time came to creatively decorate the corner where they were exhibited.

Many San Francisco residents have creative options for decorating the alcove in the wall that once housed an intercom.

Courtesy of @ NoCarXXX / Twitter

I decided to ask my landlord if he had an answer as to why the units in my own building still had the mysterious old phones.

“We generally leave because a lot of people think it’s part of the old charm,” he said.

The post The origins of the mysterious outdated phone in my San Francisco residence appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.