Telephone operators gather for reunion

There was once a workforce in the Flathead Valley that acted as the sole link for people to reach the world outside their home. They were the nameless voices on the other end of the line asking, “How may I connect your call?”

“Telephone companies, operators, it was a whole world,” said Patti Dorlarque of Kalispell. “One that I don’t think people recognize anymore.”

When Dorlarque sat before a switchboard in 1975, she had 12 cords in front of her and roughly a hand’s distance between operators on each side. She eventually changed over to directory assistance so when people dialed 411, they’d reached her.

“We were encyclopedias,” she said. “When people called in for emergencies, we’d get them to the right place. They needed directions, we’d give them.”

On a recent August afternoon, more than five dozen former telephone company employees gathered for the first time in years.

Dorlarque said between the retirees, there were 1,551 years of work.

“Now is the time to meet, because you lose people,” she said. “And here, we’re kinda the last of the operators.”

In the 1930s and 1940s when Dorlarque’s mom worked as an operator, the telephone company now known as AT&T had more than 350,000 operators.

But as automatic switching devices were introduced, companies needed fewer people to make the calls. As of May 2016, there were 8,860 operators nationwide, according to the Bureau of Labor and Statistics. Most of those people answer 911 calls or work in medical offices.

Today, Dorlarque can still recite the county health office phone number. She can describe the layout of places she never visited after years of studying maps to give directions — and she knows their prefix numbers.

She also remembers the voice of the elderly blind man who called in the mornings.

“He would just want to say ‘hello’ and check in on us. Lots of people would. They knew our voices,” Dorlarque said. “There was a camaraderie with the telephone operators and the customer.”

As telephone company retirees gathered for the first time in years this month, people talked about the roles they had played as linemen, secretaries, operators or splitters. They talked about watching the industry transform from humans connecting humans to the devices taking over the role.

“It’s not the same today,” Keith Ross said, who worked for phone companies in Northwest Montana from 1949 to 1992. “Everyone is getting rid of their landline for a cell phone.”

To fill Polson’s communication needs, Ross did a bit of everything. He was a lineman for 27 years before he took up repairing equipment so people could continue to reach operators. When the process went digital, he went back to college so he could help update the city’s system.

He recognized his local operators’ voices as they announced who was on the other end of the line. He felt good being part of the process.

“Now, you don’t know who is calling you. It could be anyone or thing,” Ross said before describing a phone scam he had heard about on the evening news the night before.

Like many at the reunion, Scott Okerlund began his career as an operator. He joined the ranks in the 1970s at 22. He eventually became a lineman and finished his career as a splitter.

“It was a place where you could always improve — room for moving up,” he said.

“Scotty boy,” Judy Fraser yelled as she entered the party and met Okerlund’s eyes.

“Here’s trouble,” Okerlund said as he hugged Fraser.

The duo’s time at the company overlapped for roughly two decades. Fraser said when they had worked together at a landline company, everyone in the office knew each other. They experienced the number of operators thin, the creation of answering machines and the transition of telephones going cordless.

“We were all a family,” Fraser said leaning toward Okerlund. “The companies have changed. But we had a good run.”

“A damn good run,” Okerlund added.

“A good retirement,” she said.

“Yup,” he agreed.

Fraser gave up her landline years ago. She was relieved to do it — it wasn’t the same without that middle man or woman.

Okerlund still has a landline, “just because.” But people try to find other ways to reach him. They ask what social media platform he has for them to follow.

“I’m not on Facebook,” Okerlund said. “I’m a phone man. My dad was a phone man. Want to talk to me, pick up a phone.”

Reporter Katheryn Houghton may be reached at 758-4436 or by email at khoughton@dailyinterlake.com.