I was watching a US cops and robbers film the other day in which the police were using those large portable phones that were around just at the start of the cellphone revolution. Nothing dates a film more than the type of phones they are using. Those unwieldy early portable phones look quite comical these days and seem more cumbersome than convenient.
Being on the wrinkly side I must admit to preferring old police procedural films set in the days when the law enforcers didn't have to rely on cellphones, lap tops or any other electronic gadgets for solving a case. In the old days the detectives had to get off their backsides and go out on the streets to do some real sleuthing. And we were spared those mindless car chases which seem obligatory these days.
In British films the cops would have to make urgent calls from those iconic red telephone boxes and they invariably either ran out of coins or discovered the telephone box had been vandalised.
Agatha Christie's ace detective Hercule Poirot seemed to do okay without a cellphone. He kept all the info he needed in his noggin and let his "grey matter" sort everything out. Sherlock Holmes relied on his observational skills and powers of reasoning. However he did have some technical help from a magnifying glass.
Inspector Clouseau as played by Peter Sellers was another sleuth who pre-dated cellphone days although probably the less said about his deductive powers the better.
Evening all
I admit to enjoying the days when British TV cops would come out with things like "Hello, hello, hello, what's going on here then?'' The "hello" usually featuring a dropped "h".
I am ancient enough to remember Britain's first televised police series, Dixon of Dock Green, which featured a rather ancient cop played by Jack Warner. At the start of each show PC George Dixon would amble down the police steps to the tune of Maybe It's Because I'm a Londoner, salute and greet the viewers with a comforting "Evening all" which became an instant catchphrase in any reference to the police. Signing off, Dixon usually came out with a cautionary "Goodnight all, mind how you go".
Dixon didn't quite have the vocabulary to match Dirty Harry's "make my day" or "do you feel lucky punk?" but like Clint Eastwood, he always got his man even though he was aged over 60 and a bit tottery.
However, even Dixon could not totally escape modern technology. Thirty years later his theme tune became a ringtone for cellphones.
Lucky number
Phone calls have been a staple diet in pop songs for decades and are far too numerous to mention. Actual phone numbers have been less apparent but a few have become part of musical history.
Perhaps the most memorable phone song dates back 83 years ago to the summer of 1940 when Glenn Miller's huge wartime hit Pennyslvania 6-5000 was released. Many big bands stayed at the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York City and played in the hotel's Café Rouge. The title of the song comes from the hotel's phone number in the days when you had to ask the operator for the number.
In the 1960s, phone numbers appeared in several song titles and in 1962 the Tamla Motown group the Marvelettes had a big hit with Beechwood 4-5789 written by the great Marvin Gaye who played drums on the recording. Karen Carpenter reportedly loved the Beechwood song so much it was the last single the Carpenters released before her sudden death in 1983.
Seeing red
While working in central London in 1968 I discovered that those red telephone boxes also acted as thinly disguised advertisements for naughty goings-on. On the windows you would be greeted by messages advertising "French lessons" in which no textbooks were required and the teacher probably could not speak a word of the language. I recall one ad featuring "Eve from Eden" who was more likely "Brenda from Balham".
These ladies were not averse to adopting names which were regarded as "exotic" by the English in those days. They often had a "Continental" flavour like Lola, Lulu, Gigi and Dolores. In the 1980s some of the more enterprising ladies graduated to leaving expensive-looking business cards in the telephone boxes dubbed by the media as "tart cards".
Out of order
I suffered an embarrassing moment back in the 1970s in Bangkok attempting to make a call from a box in the foyer of the old Athens Theatre on Phaya Thai Road. After putting the coins in and dialling there was total silence. I tried a few more coins but with the same result. I then noticed a young couple looking in my direction with some amusement.
It turned out that the telephone cord had been severed and I was standing there like a total idiot holding a phone receiver which was not attached to anything.
I was more fortunate than a Thai gentleman in Bangkok some years back who was jailed for three years for assaulting a public telephone. Apparently he had just been fired from his job and tried to call his wife from a telephone box but the phone was out of order. That's when he went berserk and wrecked the phone booth.
Poor chap, it just wasn't his day.
Contact PostScript via email at oldcrutch@hotmail.com
