At the turn of the 20th century, as more and more homes and businesses began utilizing telephones, an issue arose in San Francisco. The white operators tasked with connecting calls around the city were struggling to understand the residents of Chinatown. Not only was this a source of frustration for the operators, it meant that the Pacific Telephone and Telegraph Company was failing an entire population of the city.
The phone company solved this problem by giving Chinatown its very own telephone exchange and dedicated set of operators. Not only did these operators need to memorize hundreds — and later thousands — of local phone numbers (and who they belonged to), they needed to do so in several different dialects. What’s more, while each phone in San Francisco was being used roughly four times a day, the phones of Chinatown were a lot more active — used, on average, eight times a day.
The Chinese Telephone Exchange’s switchboard operators, with their exceptional memory skills, quickly became a point of public fascination. For decades, spectators would frequently stop outside the Chinatown building’s windows to watch the operators working. The exchange finally closed down in 1949, as more and more people installed phones that could be self-dialed at home. But for many, the fascination with this most unusual operation has persisted.
Here are five things you may not know.
The original Chinese Telephone Exchange was established in 1887 when a single small switchboard was installed in the offices of Mun Kee & Co, a Chinese newspaper located at 821 Washington St. The telephone exchange got its own headquarters a few years later, before moving into its permanent home at 743 Washington St.
Until the offices were destroyed by the 1906 fires, the telephone exchange was operated exclusively by six men and one errand boy. Only after a 1909 reopening did the exchange turn to women to keep things running. Why? Because the male operators kept getting into spats with customers that apparently needed to be settled in person.
According to an issue of Electrical Engineering and Telephone from 1901, “Every little while a difference of opinion between an operator and a subscriber is settled at arm’s length out of office hours. This mode of arbitration disturbs the equilibrium of the service and never happens when the operator and the subscriber are of different sexes.”
In 1898, the Chinese Telephone Exchange had just 54 subscribers. By 1936, that number had swelled to 2,200. Each and every year, as subscriber numbers increased, sending out new phone directories was a necessity. But even as these phonebooks got longer and longer, the methods of making them changed very little.
The original pages were hand-lettered using a small brush and homemade ink, then duplicated. What kind of ink, you ask? Well, from the sacs of cuttlefish! The ink was purchased in a dry form, ground in a mortar using a pestle and then mixed with water. That concoction was then poured over a sponge which acted as a sort of ink pot for the writer’s paintbrush.
So, no. They don’t make ’em like they used to.
When Chan Yung Lai retired his position at the Chinese Telephone Exchange, he wanted his daughter Choy Chan to take his place. Choy was already familiar with the way the exchange worked — as a girl, she would run and fetch women so they could receive long distance calls. Not only did Choy take her father’s place at the exchange, she stayed in the position until the Chinese Telephone Exchange finally closed in 1949.
It wasn’t unusual for women to stay working at the phone exchange for many years. In part, because they didn’t lose their jobs the moment they got married — a common practice elsewhere. Grace Wong and Maud Chin both served for more than 20 years each. Nellie How broke 15. And in 1936, the Red Bluff Daily News paid tribute to Ho Lee, an operator who worked at the exchange for over 25 years. When Lee retired, her daughter Elizabeth swiftly took her place.
“[Ho Lee’s] soft intonation as she queried ‘Del Huey bin she ah?’ (‘Number please?’) will be heard no more in the world’s most interesting telephone exchange,” the newspaper reported. “In calamity, her voice was quick and rapid and assistance swift. In grief she was consoling, understanding. But though she has retired to domestic life, her work at the telephone office is carried on. Elizabeth Lee, dainty, nimble-fingered, almond-eyed daughter of Ho Lee … will pick up the threads in this tapestry of life begun by her family, and continue the weaving.”
In 1943, 30 Chinese Telephone Exchange workers joined the Telephone Traffic Employees Organization to fight for better working conditions. With the help of the local union, the operators filed several complaints with the War Labor Board. These workers kicked back against their grueling seven-day work week and demanded back pay and overtime for hours they’d never been compensated for. And they won — including $5,000 in back pay. (The equivalent of about $90,000 today.)
This action and others like it around the country inspired the National Federation of Telephone Workers to call a nationwide strike of switchboard operators in 1947 that went on for five weeks. AT&T, the Bell Telephone Company, the New York Telephone Company and others caved to their employees’ demands, forced finally to recognize the importance of their work.
Though an image persists of rows of women sitting dutifully at a large switchboard, the Chinese Telephone Exchange was much more than that. Because it was necessary for people to come into the building in order to receive long distance calls, it also was a social space.
In 1905, a writer from Telephone Magazine reported that when people entered the exchange: “A smiling official extends a cordial welcome. Steaming hot tea is served in little china cups with lids. Tobacco and cigarettes are also offered … In this un-American way, the tedium of waiting for a message or a long distance call is beguiled.”
In 1913, Pacific Telephone magazine noted that the exchange was “built in conformity with the best Chinese architecture” and also marveled at the beauty of the exchange’s decor. “The interior is elaborately frescoed with dragons and Chinese designs,” the magazine said, “the woodwork being finished in ebony and gold.” At one point, there was a painted Chinese phrase on the wall inside that translated to “A line will convey good news to you.”
Today, the exterior looks much the same as it did when it housed the telephone exchange. Say hello next time you’re in Chinatown.
