Reporters: Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You

At Washington’s Mayflower Hotel, members of the city’s Association of Oldest Inhabitants had just finished their 99th anniversary dinner. Suddenly, one of the guests emitted a high-pitched whine. Washington Evening Star Reporter Walter Gold leaped to his feet as if stung and dashed from the room in search of a phone. A few minutes later, the Star’s night city editor gave him a message: “Holdup at Big D Liquor Store, 4173 Minnesota Avenue, N.E.” With that, Reporter Gold was on his way to the story.

Gold’s unsettling whine had come from a tiny radio receiver hooked to his belt. Until he began wearing it, the Star’s only general assignment night reporter had to call in to his paper every half hour. Now, when a story breaks, Night City Editor John Kopeck dials a seven-digit number on the phone, hears a recorded voice say: “Thank you. Your Bellboy party will be signaled.” In a matter of seconds, Gold’s midriff radio, dubbed Bellboy by its manufacturer, Western Electric, sounds off. Unless Gold stops it by pushing a button, it will keep on keening for eight hours, or until the battery runs down.

Some 6,000 Bellboys are already in use—mainly by doctors. There are 1,500 receivers in Washington alone, but Walter Gold is the only Star reporter so equipped. Anyone within some 16 miles of him can dial his number —which is one reason why Gold keeps that number a secret between him arid Kopeck. Both men find it extremely useful. Not long ago, the Bellboy’s shrill signal sent Reporter Gold to the nearest telephone for this command from Editor Kopeck: “When you come in, bring me a hot pastrami on rye.”