On Queen West near Trinity Bellwoods Park, a torn remnant of a sign reading, ironically, "Remnants," features a very small "EM.3-0552." How many lips silently formed the word "Empire" while fingers absentmindedly traced tiny circles in their telephone dials back when that sign was new? Further east on Queen near Spadina, the Jacob's Hardware sign shows us how some frugal business owners adapted to the loss of exchange names: with stickers. I've found another LEnnox in Parkdale at Star Hair Stylists at Bloor Street West and Spadina, the faded Simman's Jewellers sign whispers "WA 5-9441" to remind us that Annex folk were once considered a bunch of WAlnuts. While it's especially delightful to find a survivor documenting the changeover, I regret to say that finding any relics that have weathered the past 45 years is becoming increasingly difficult. That's because, in 1956, the KEnwood exchange was absorbed into the much larger LEnnox exchange. On the slightly newer illuminated sign that hangs over the sidewalk, the number is LE 3-8903. On the painted sign over the door - the one with the "Coke dots" - the number is listed as KE-8903. An example of this change can still be seen today in Parkdale, at Queen Automatic Laundries at Queen Street West and Dunn Avenue. When Bell was forced to expand from the two-letter, four-digit system to two-letters, five-digits starting in 1951, many of the original exchange names were lost.
In the earliest days of telephony, exchange names were taken directly from the central switching offices, which were usually named after the neighbourhoods they served. Oppen, who was suing his local phone company over the loss of exchange names. PEnnsylvania 6-5000, "the musicians will, of course, stand up and chant, 'Seven three six five thousand.' " In 1962, he wrote more seriously in support of Los Angeles lawyer James J. Toronto Daily Star columnist Ron Haggart reacted to Bell's announcement with his tongue firmly in cheek, writing that in future recordings of the song It's not a stretch to assume that as a HArgrave in a dilapidated old semi-detached at Danforth and Greenwood, you might pine to be a HIckory in a new Don Mills split-level.
These familiar little words had been around for so long, they'd become more than mere mnemonic devices, they'd become signifiers of place.
I imagine folks felt the same way upon hearing they were losing EMpire, UNiversity, RIverdale, GErrard, GLadstone and HArgrave (the last four were amalgamated to become the HOward exchange in 1957). How alien! Where, exactly, was that? It sure didn't feel like Toronto and I begged, in vain, for my service provider to reconsider this blow to my geographic ego and placate me with a good ol' 416. (The era truly ended with the release of the March, 1966, phone book, which excluded exchange names for the first time.) But I do remember when I got my first cell phone with the new 647 area code. I was born eight years after Bell Canada announced it would gradually phase out exchange names in favour of "all-number calling" in 1960. I'm referring, of course, to the old Toronto telephone exchange names, and if you're over 50, you probably remember yours. Were you a WAlnut or a CHerry? How about a PRincess or a GRover, and I don't mean the lovable blue Sesame Street character.
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