The whole idea seems impossibly quaint, now.
There would be these little private rooms, these booths, scattered about in public spaces, so people who wanted to make a telephone call could go inside, and hide themselves away, and conduct their business without being overheard.
In private, as it were.
|This one's in Michigan|
Rarer still are fancy wooden booths, such as the ones above, with their own gold leaf numbers and yes, working telephones still inside. Think of them as the original phone case.
I suppose the idea of privacy will go next. People all yabber away, oblivious to each other. Even cupping your hand around your mouth seems a needless nicety. You certainly wouldn't expect someone to step away, to suggest that their conversation isn't public information. Heck, everything is public information. Why be discreet about something your going to post on four different forms of social media just as soon as you can? Just the thought of popping into a phone booth for some privacy while you klaxon your news to the world seems hopelessly convoluted.
But we still understand the rough outlines of privacy. It doesn't puzzle us. Quite yet. Until that inevitable day, where did I see this quartet of ancient phone technology sarcophagi?
The winner will receive—speaking of old methods of communication—one of my hand-typeset blog posters, printed on century-old equipment at the famous Hatch Show Print shop in Nashville, Tennessee. Remember to post your guesses below. Good luck.