Operator, Operator..

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Your great grandaddy Schaefer kept a big glass jar in the top of his closet. He called it our “Trip Bank” and filled it with loose change from his pocket. When the jar brimmed with pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters, granddaddy announced that it was time to take a trip. For years, we children thought the bank truly funded our vacations. Even as we grew older and more realistic, we still monitored the jar because we knew that when it reached capacity, we would be going somewhere.

In the summer of 1959, when I was approaching eighth grade, that somewhere turned out to be New York City. Granddaddy booked five tickets and two Pullman berths on Southern Railway's Silver Crescent which pulled out of Greenville at around 7:00 PM to arrive at Pennsylvania Station the following morning about twelve hours later. 

I have vivid memories of the Crescent – the white table cloths and wait staff in the dining car; the cordiality and care of our porter named Calhoun; the coziness of the berth; the deep sleep induced by the rhythmic clicketty-clack of the wheels rolling along the track coupled with the gentle rocking of the car; and the counter of being wakened by a soft squeal of the brakes and whish of steam as we stopped in the middle of the night at Union Station in Washington, D.C. Even though it may not be quite the same today, my love for riding the train certainly came from this experience.

My first encounter with New York City was equally delightful. I will never forget walking out of Pennsylvania Station onto the bustling streets of the city. Up, up, up – craning my neck as far back as I could to find the sky, in slivers of blue lanes between the peaks of the massive, tall buildings. The incessant, baseless honking of taxis whizzing by; the aroma of hot pretzels; the shuffle of determined pedestrians – New York is nothing if not a sensory overload.

Our week in the city was textbook tourist – Radio City Music Hall, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Carnegie Deli - and a visit to the observation tower of the world's then tallest building, the Empire State. While there, your great uncle Bryant struck up a conversation with a young South Korean man named Eizo Shindo. We invited him to join us for an afternoon tour around Manhattan on the Hudson River Line.

An officer in the South Korean Air Force, Eizo was in the United States as a guest of the Department of Defense participating in a joint military project. He revealed nothing about the project itself, but did explain that he was living in the home of a general assigned to the Pentagon in Washington. Our visit with him overshadowed the official sights being pointed out to us by our guide – we probably missed half of the tour. When the boat pulled back into its dock and we said goodbye, Eizo's customary bows of gratitude gave way to the less formal Southern hug from all of us. Meeting him proved to be one of the highlights of the whole trip.

Several months later, back home at 3 Lakecrest, we were sitting around the kitchen table when Granddaddy Schaefer made a preposterous suggestion.

“I've been thinking,” he said. “Why don't we invite Eizo to come spend a weekend with us?”

“That's great, dad,” Bryant responded. “But, we don't have any way to contact him.”

“Well, let's see,” Granddaddy went into lawyer mode, “we know that he's in Washington and we know that he is living with a general at the Pentagon.”

“And what's your point?” I piped in.

“Well, it's a challenge for sure, but let's just see if we can find him.”

With that, granddaddy picked up the telephone and dialed “0” which in those days connected to an “operator” who managed all long distance phone calls. (I have no idea if operators exist today. For you boys, they probably have gone the way of the dinosaur.)

“This is the operator......how may I help you?”

“Yes....um...” granddaddy proceeded, “First of all.....do you have a sense of adventure?”

“.......I beg your pardon?”

“I need some help....it's a long shot....and it might take a while,” he explained. “I just wanted to make sure you would be interested.”

Intrigued, the operator answered “Well, tell me what it is you need and I'll see if I can help.”

“We're looking for a young Korean airman named Eizo Shindo. He's a guest of the Department of Defense and all we know is that he is staying in the home of a general assigned to the Pentagon. We'd like to invite him to come spend some time with us in South Carolina. What do you think?”

“Well, that's probably the most unusual request I've ever had......and not a lot to go on, sir.”

“I know. I said it was a long shot, but do you think maybe you could try to find him? If you can't, that's okay, but my family would really appreciate it.”

The operator hemmed and hawed, but granddaddy persisted. Finally she committed to see what she could do. He hung up the phone.

“Well, kids, we'll see what comes of this. Hopefully, we've found somebody who can get in the spirit of the thing.”

Several hours later, after we had all dispersed into our own activities and pretty much forgotten about the effort, the phone rang. To our surprise and delight, it was the operator.

“Sir,” she said, “I have located your party.”

“Wonderful!” granddaddy replied.

“The only problem is that I can't give you the phone number because it is unlisted. I'm not authorized to release it to you.”

Granddaddy paused for a second, thinking.

“Well, we can't stop now.....you've helped us get this close.....do me a favor....call the number and explain what we want....then have them call us if it's okay to talk to Eizo. Do you mind doing this one last thing?”

“Of course not. Let me see if that works.” She was all in at this point.

Sensing that we were very close to success, we congregated at the kitchen table again. Within a few minutes, the phone rang.

“Hello, this is Schaefer Kendrick.”

“Mr. Kendrick, I'm General Joe Smith and I understand you are trying to get in touch with my guest, Eizo Shindo,”

“Yes, we met Eizo in New York and wanted to invite him to come visit us in South Carolina.”

We could hardly contain ourselves. With the help of our enterprising operator, we had cut through layers upon layers of bureaucracy to actually find Eizo. General Smith put him on the phone. Granddaddy extended the invitation which Eizo humbly, yet excitedly, accepted. He would come to see us in early October.......

….to be continued.