Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 2 · column 4 of 8 · from the scan, no model involved
‘‘We had to be a real bureau of information,” Phyllis added. “The sheriff had to call us to find out who was where - everyone called us to hear what was happening.” The ladies also would continue trying to reach numbers that didn’t answer at first telling them who had wanted to talk to them while they were gone.
The switchboard was also a center of information for outof-town visitors. The only pay phone in town was in the Verner home. "People came in for all kinds of reasons,” Phyllis said. “Senator James Eastland once came in because he needed a private place to change his clothes.” Also visiting the family was Bing Crosby’s brother, passing through town on his way to Front Royal.
As the Depression faded and the war started, more and more people hooked up to the Washington phone system. “Soldiers on leave always had us cover for them,” Mrs. Verner said. “They were supposed to stay near a phonC~''but if they wanted to go out, they’d tell us where they were.”
Time passed, and the towns of Sperryville and Flint Hill got dial phones. “That made it more complicated for us,” Phyllis said. “We’d get a call for either place and we’d have to dial the number, rather than just plugging in.”
The dial phone equipment was housed in the brick building on Gay Street, an old outbuilding for AvotvHatt-v later given to the Histo/u?al Society. Eventu aTl y, Washington folks got dial phones, too, and the switchboard was moved out on August 9, 1949.
After that, Phyllis worked for 25 years for a doctor in Fairfax, but she said that nothing could compare to the days of the Washington switchboard. “It was confining, but it was sudn gobd company,” she said. “The day. th^t they moved it out, I felt just like it was the day pf a funeral.” ,
89.6%