Why Students 50 Years Ago Couldn’t Live Without This Mysterious Space

You know when you’re walking past one of those weird little alcove walls in old college dorms, filled with stairs or nothing at all, and you say to yourself, “What the hell is the point of that thing?” I used to. Then I saw that little lightbulb up above it, and the shelf beneath it, and it was all cluttered, with dust, and a phone, where a phone used to rest. That was no mere niche in the wall. It was history.

It was, basically, a dorm room phone booth. And back then, that thing was sacred.

Before the Cell Phone, the Booth

The way we used to talk was very different than it is today, but even as recently as the ’60s, ’70s and early ’90s, the process of wanting to hear your mom’s voice or murmur sweet nothings to your crush even though he lived two states away involved walking down the hall, rooting around your pockets for change and hoping that no one else was using the other phone in the booth.

You earned your phone call.

My uncle talks about waiting in line outside the booth at his freshman dorm, his quarters at the ready, practicing what he would say. “Tell them I’m good. Ask about Grandma. Don’t sound homesick.”

It wasn’t just a call. It was an event.

Those Little Niches Saved Lives

The booths were tiny, not roomy, just roomy enough to stand, maybe lean if the wall wasn’t freezing. Some didn’t even have a full door.” Just that light, overhead, and a bit of privacy.”

Dorms were loud. Music loud, shouting, doors slamming. Those little kiosks were your only relief. You could listen to the voice on the other end of the line instead of the anarchy outside.

You feel that weird hush you get in the quietest places? That is what the booth dished you out. A moment of genuine contact.

The Waiting Game Was Real

If it was full, you waited. Hover nearby. Fall a pretending to read the ol’ notice board. Keep time ticking, your coins clinking, but. And when your turn finally came, well, you only had a limited amount of time — unless you had scrounged up some loose change.

You learned to sum up your week in under 5 minutes. You got good at it. Real fast.

The Quiet Disappearance

By the late ‘90s and early 2000s those private booths began to disappear. Then cellphones arrived, and waiting on line was history.

No more quarters. No more dimly lit booths. A handheld in your pocket, a bar for the signal.

The Symbolism in Those Walls

Every once in a while I’ll spot one when I’m on a campus somewhere. Empty. Dusty. Forgotten. But stay there a while and you feel in the air the ghost of someone’s story.

Maybe the clack of metal when you put in a quarter? That sound stays with you.

They were more than an instrument, those phone booth dorm rooms. They were symbols of effort. Of intention.

Looking Back, Moving Forward

We are not smartphones atweeting. But walk past one of these old booths and stop for a second.

Think about the students who leaned in to whisper their joys and fears into those phones, hoping they would be heard. Think about time and effort spent to keep in touch.

We have dorm-room telephone booths to thank for something:

A moment.

A connection.

A voice down the line.