Home Again

It’s a hot day in the middle of August 1957 when I make my last 200 mile drive from New York to Baltimore and return to civilian life. My uniforms are crammed into my duffel bag and I am flying high in my Orioles tee shirt and blue jeans. The fact that I survived the sinful lures of New York City with such places as Coney Island, the Bowery, and Times Square made everyone happy at home. Momma prepares my favorite meal, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn and peas. To this day, I have never had the equal to her fried chicken. I should have asked for the recipe, but foolishly didn’t. The drink du jour and every jour was iced tea. Even though I was 18 and a VETERAN, beer was not yet on the menu.

Officially, I am still an employee of the telephone company, on military leave, so there is no vacation. I report to the personnel office and they fumble around and then decide they should send me back to my old mail clerk job at “1801” (E. Fayette Street.) Whoa, I whine that I am now 18 and eligible for street duty. More fumbling and I am directed to the Pikesville Central Office (C.O.) and promoted to “frame attendant.” Pikesville is a suburb at the northwest corner of Baltimore AND the C.O. is only about two miles from where we live! Not only that, but I am given a raise in salary and am now making the princely sum of $48 a week.

The C.O. is where dial tone comes from and all your calls come and go through there. It is where your telephone number is established and connected to the line that goes to your home. When we first moved to the suburbs we were a long distance call from Baltimore and were reached from there by operator at Pikesville 5335. Then came Direct Distant Dialing (DDD) and we were now HUnter 6-5335, Then the telephone company did away with names and we were just 486-5335. Of course with more long distance capabilities we also had an “area code” 301 to go with it. Today, in many parts of the country, you must dial the area code even on local calls due to the high demand for telephone numbers for cell phones, etc.

The “Frame-hops” as the frame attendants were known were responsible for connecting and disconnecting a variety of wires to make it all work. I was issued a tool pouch with specialized pliers and cutters for the job. This was worn with a belt like a holster. Some of the connections required soldering and, of course, safety glasses. There were about 4 or 5 of us working there at the time. Naturally, business for us would fluctuate, and we usually had a supply of magazines to peruse surreptitiously. We could actually listen in on peoples private conversations if we wanted to, but as our 37^th President said “that would be wrong.”

Frame-hop, even though a step above mail clerk, was still considered an entry level job. Minimum skills were required. Usually, within a year or two, they would be promoted to “Central Office Repairman” or sent outside to be an “Installer.”

Unfortunately, the job market slowed down and I lingered on the vine at the same job for another 7 years before getting the coveted C.O. repairman title. That does not appear to have slowed me down since during those seven years I married, had two children and bought a house.

Ah, yes, my upcoming nuptials, only a few months away, April, 1958. Mom has to sign approval since I am not 21, as she does for my 1^st mortgage 2 years later. Most of my high school classmates are off to some college getting their heads crammed with more and more knowledge, while I am on my way to marital bliss and to live the American dream. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ