A tale from around 1965 in the composing room

Here’s a tale from the old days submitted by Leo V. Osmar:

The following incident occurred back in my first years of employment at the Akron Beacon Journal — 1965-1966. It had to be then because I did not get a ‘situation’ until my second year.

It was Sunday p.m. and I had been hired for the night shift as a compositor in the composing room. My duty at the time was working on a double-truck Acme grocery ad which would be running sometime in the next several days. The telephone on the foreman’s desk began ringing. No one answered the phone. This ringing continued off and on for what seemed to be hours with no one answering.

At first it bothered me not because that was not my job — to answer the phone. I had no authority of any kind except be a compositor. After much ringing the jingling began to wear on my nerves and I went and answered the call.

 “Good afternoon. Beacon Journal Composing Room. Can I help you?”

“Let me speak to a prostitute,” was the reply.

Damn! I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone. Where was Dave White now. He was the foreman on duty. But I had answered the phone.

“I’m sorry. There’s no one here but us substitutes.”

“I don’t want a substitute. Let me speak with a prostitute.”

“I’m sorry. None of the prostitutes came in tonight. Perhaps you can call back later. Goodbye.”

In all of my twenty-five years at the Beacon Journal that I believe was one of the weirdest moments I encountered. Never did find out who was behind that call. Never even tried. Never told anyone about it.