In the old days Bigfork phone operators connected everyone

Preface: This collection of vignettes is a chapter from my childhood memoir that spans 1950 to 1964 when my parents, Bill and Anne Haug, owned a bar on Bigfork’s Electric Avenue.

Hustons’ Property

In addition to the grocery, the Hustons owned several houses and cottages. 

The large triangle between lower Electric Avenue and Bridge Street contained two small cottages, one of which served as our post office, and the other is where the Boyers lived, and a large house where the Hustons lived. 

But that all changed a few years later. First the post office outgrew that small cottage and moved into the front area of Mary Murphy’s building, at the other end of the main street, and that cottage was rented to a small family. Later, the Hustons moved to their two-story house on the other side of Bridge Street, and the Boyers moved into house the Hustons vacated.

The triangle between Osborn and Bridge Street (next to Huston’s grocery) was used as a park. It had a hedge around its perimeter to protect it from traffic, and lots of tall trees to provide shade for several picnic tables. It was a favorite place for all the town kids to play.

One day as I was walking home from school with my younger neighbor, Linda, we walked past that park and I had a strange experience. I suddenly knew the future of that park. “Um, Linda, did you know they are going to build a new post office where this park is?”

“Huh-uh,” she said, meaning ‘no.’ “How do you know that?” she asked.

“I dunno,” I said, my voice a bit shaky. “All of a sudden, I just knew it; I kinda saw the new post office.”

“You’re weird,” she said, laughing and skipping away, down the street. 

But six years later, when JFK was president, the new post office was built where that park had been, and our school band played for the dedication of the building.

Other Residences in the Village

Osborn was more like an alley than a street. It was very narrow, and the properties on that side of the main street all had their back ends facing Osborn, except for the Koffee Kup. George and Eva Wells’ house was behind the cafe, facing Osborn.

There were four or five residences between Osborn and the river, and all of them were small town farms, with gardens and out-buildings. One of them had a barn where we kids liked to play ‘fort.’ When the Aklestads first moved to Bigfork, they lived in the house that looked at the back side of our bar.

There were more cottages behind the block where the Mountain Lake Tavern stood. Later, one of those houses was replaced with the Fire Hall. (Now vacant, behind Collage Gallery.)

On the other side of the main street, the Andersons, who owned the Merc, lived in a house behind the community hall, facing the bay. They also owned the lumber warehouse behind the Merc and faced Grand street. When their daughter, Barbie, got older, they converted it to a horse barn for her pony.

Next to the Bigfork Hotel on Grand Street, and across from the lumber warehouse, was a large property with a house where the Manickes lived. 

At the other end of town, there were five small houses and several bachelor shacks on lower Bridge Street. My favorite was the red River House next to the bridge.

The Telephone Company

Most days, after having lunch in the village, Mom and I retraced our steps toward home, down Bridge Street and across the old bridge (where my personal playmate was usually waiting to taunt me). On the other side of the bridge were two large properties: the power and telephone company on the left, and Elm Resort, which catered mainly to fishermen and their families on the right.

Several young women worked at the telephone exchange and lived in small cottages at the bottom of the hill. “Can we stop to visit the telephone operators?” I asked Mom as we crossed the bridge. 

“Not today, Sugar,” was her usual response, but sometimes she surprised me and said, “Yes.” On those occasions, I suspect she wanted some time to herself, and took advantage of these handy baby sitters.

“Hi, Cathy,” Carol called as we walked in. “Have you come to help us today?”

“Mm hmm,” I assented as I ran up to her. She picked me up and sat me in her lap just as the board lighted up with an incoming call. After greeting the caller and determining the connection, she handed me the cord and said to me, “Here you go, plug it in here,” while she pointed at the destination. 

I loved spending time there. In between calls, I regaled my audience with all the songs I’d learned from the juke box in the bar, or stories about some of the customers.  When a call came in, if it was someone I knew, I got to do the talking and work the cords.