Sepia Saturday: Squeezebox Christmas

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday photo prompt is intended to inspire the “Homo Sepians” (Thank-you, TICKLEBEAR, for that brilliant new word!) to blog about Christmas.  But along with Santa in that photo is a happy chap playing the accordion.  I can do Christmas anytime, but when will I ever get another chance to feature the much-maligned “squeezebox”?

When my dad was a teen, he was responsible for getting his sister, my Aunt Betty, to her accordion lessons.  I always found that to be funny.  Betty?  Playing the accordion??  I just couldn’t picture it.  After all, as long as I’ve known her she has never owned an accordion.  She doesn’t even seem especially interested in music except for playing CDs on her Bose Wave. 

But play the accordion, she did. 

Aunt Betty with accordion

Now, I must confess that I am not a fan of accordion music.  Intellectually I know that playing requires coordination and skill, but emotionally the sound of the accordion coupled with visions of Lawrence Welk and polka dancers makes it difficult for me to appreciate whatever artistry the accordion can produce.

That might explain why this is my favorite cartoon:

Tired of the abuse, accordionists found someone else to kick around:

There is no denying the popularity of the accordion, however, especially in the 1940s when Aunt Betty was a student.  I join Betty’s accordion teacher in wishing you a Merry Christmas!

Please visit Sepia Saturday to see if other bloggers were able to combine the accordion and Christmas so seamlessly.

© 2014, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: Lovers adrift

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday prompt shows lovers kissing across two vessels.  If we carry that image to its logical conclusion, those boats will drift apart, and the lovers will be separated.

The symbolism implied in the photo extends to the story of my great aunt and uncle, Catherine Walsh and Steve Barany.  

Could two people look any happier?

In her teen years my aunt Betty (Beverly Slade Anderson) visited Aunt Cat and Uncle Steve in their Washington D.C. home many times.

Jackie, Steve Barany, Betty (Beverly Slade Anderson)

Aunt Betty said Cat and Steve were lots of fun.  Steve made sure to show Betty and her friend Jackie a good time, usually going to hockey games and other sporting events, but they also toured the historic sites of Washington D.C.

Cat and Steve were loved by their neighbors.  They had lots of friends and enjoyed parties.

Steve and Catherine Barany on the left
with neighbors on the right

At what appears to be a birthday or New Years party,
Catherine and Steve are on the front row, far right.

Front row: Cat is smoking and wearing a dark striped
sweater.  I wonder what the tags were for.  

But there’s a dark side to their story. 

By day, Steve was a machinist in the Navy Yard.  By night, he was a bookie.  He ran his business in the basement of their home.  No one was allowed to answer the phone except him.  If the call was for Cat or Betty, he rang a little bell to let them know to pick up the phone upstairs. 

The Barany household must have been much like that of George and Martha in Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?  Cat and Steve fought too much.  They also drank too much. Maybe that came with Steve’s business.  Maybe it was part of the Irish curse that Cat would become an alcoholic like her brother and two of her sisters. 

So like lovers on two different boats, Cat and Steve drifted apart.  Although legally separated, they continued to share the house in Washington D.C. for many years until Cat decided to return home to Portsmouth to be closer to her sisters.   In 1969, Cat and Steve died within months and miles of each other. 

Please visit Sepia Saturday for more stories of hugs and kisses, hello’s and good-bye’s, boats, and lovers.

© 2014, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: Smooth Operator

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday photo prompt depicts a row of switchboard operators at work.  A scene like this was quite familiar to my aunt Beverly Ann Slade “Betty” Anderson.  Why? Because she was part of the legend of women who said “NY-un” (9) and “FY-vuh” (5) when speaking to telephone customers.

From the very first day on the job in 1952, Aunt Betty loved working at the “toll board” or “cord board,” as it was called, as an employee of Southern Bell in Burlington, North Carolina, and then later at C & P Telephone Company in Portsmouth, Virginia. 

C & P Telephone Company
High Street Portsmouth, VA
The telephone operators were on the third floor.
from Google Maps

The woman in the back is operating the
switchboard from which she connected
calls to the desks in the business office
of C & P Telephone Company.
photo courtesy of Beverly Anderson

The basis of the job was quite simple:  just insert one or both cords to make the connection. But the challenge came when there was no direct connection.  The operators had to use a map to figure out a route and then call another phone center to serve as a link in a chain of connections. 

An article in the company newspaper 1968
shows male operators at the toll board
courtesy Betty Anderson

The job at the cord board took on a competitive edge when several calls came in at the same time requiring the same connections.  Operators would shout out the time their call came in.  It was a system of “first come - first served.”

Aunt Betty was not intimidated by supervisors (like the one in the prompt) who carefully watched and monitored every operator’s performance.  If the light came on, the operator had better answer in 30 seconds.  If a customer was on hold 60 seconds, the operator had better get back to the customer to say she is still trying to connect.  Lord help the operator if she was caught listening in on someone’s conversation.  Operators’ pay was directly tied to their good customer service.  

And the pay was good:  $20 a week.  An operator who worked a full day got two 15-minute breaks plus lunch.  Those who worked a split shift had a 15-minute break during each shift.  When Aunt Betty worked the split shift, typically 8:00-12:00 and 4:00-8:00, rather than go home, she opted to take advantage of the employees’ craft room where various workers took turns running craft classes.  Betty’s favorite was ceramics.

 In costume as part of some historical celebration,
Beverly Anderson is pictured here
 with an antique switchboard
 that was most likely used in an office.
photo courtesy of Beverly Anderson

With her record for good service and many awards for perfect attendance, it is no wonder that Aunt Betty advanced through the company.  (Yes, the phone company gave awards for perfect attendance.)  At various times she was an operator, a supervisor, a teller in the business office, and service manager handling either business customers or retail customers.

This photo of Aunt Betty
appeared in the company
newspaper  in 1968
when she was
featured for conducting
a training session on how
women can protect themselves
against crank callers.

When she retired, she had 50 people reporting to her.  Ever modest about her success at the phone company, Aunt Betty always insisted she was at the right place at the right time.  Sometimes she felt inadequate or even unworthy supervising people with far more education than she had.  But a strong work ethic and good common sense carried her far beyond her little stool at the cord board.

Aunt Betty and me Christmas 2009

If you want to connect with other smooth operators at Sepia Saturday, it's TOLL FREE.

©2014, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.