There is a Western Union office in a shopping center near my house, and every time I go to the grocery store and see the big yellow sign, which is familiar to those who remember the iconic company, I think about the days when Western Union was a staple of our lives.

I was introduced to Western Union by Dan Magill who used the service to communicate with newspapers across the state, especially the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

He would dial the local Western Union office on College Avenue when he wanted to get something in the newspaper.  “This is Dan Magill,” he would say.  “Wanna send a short letter to Jim Minter of the Atlanta Journal.”  He would then dictate two or three paragraphs.   There were times when he would type up a feature story that might run three or four pages and take it downtown to be typed into the system, and it would appear in the morning paper.

I have had fun in recent years showing a telegram I got from the Publicity Director at Georgia Tech, the late Ned West, to the many coeds who have worked in Claude Felton’s office.

Years ago, I asked the caustic Mr. West for press and photographer credentials for a Tech home game.  My request was honored, but West sent along a note reminding me that women were not allowed in the press box so my accompanying photographer had to be male.

Women were not allowed in press boxes then, except for Western Union personnel.  Because women were more skilled typists, they were hired by the wire services to take the raw copy from the sportswriters covering a game and retype their stories into the wire service system for regional and national distribution.

In 1962, I learned that the great Ty Cobb, who had returned to the North Georgia mountains to live out his life, had a listed phone number. I found out by asking the local Western Union operator, whose first name was Delmus, to send a short message to his counterpart in Cornelia to see if he knew where Cobb lived.

Soon the replay confirmed that, “Ty Cobb is staying at Probes Apartments.”   I called the man, many say is the greatest baseball player ever, and asked if I could come up and interview him.   He was very hospitable and said, “Come on up.”

The rest of the story is that I spent much of an afternoon with him and wrote a three-part story about him and his views on a number of things.  The Banner-Herald made me pay for the phone call to Cobb.

In December of 1965, ole timers will recall, Oklahoma interviewed Vince Dooley for its head coaching position.  Dooley became seriously interested as the Sooner hierarchy sweetened the pot considerably.  That is another story, however.

When Dooley made his decision to remain in Athens, a press conference was held to review his decision.  As Dan Magill got things organized, there was a brief dead period. I walked into Vince’s office, and he picked up a stack of Western Union telegrams from Georgia alumni across the state, thanking him for choosing to remain in Athens.

There must have been close to 50 of those telegrams, and as he shook his head, said, “What do I do with all these?”  I suggested he answer them all.  He was taken aback and said, “This whole stack?”   My thoughts were simple.  If they thought enough of him to thank him for rejecting the Oklahoma offer and remaining with UGA, then he should thank them.  He did.

There are a few Western Union stories that take you on the light side.  Like the New York sportswriter who wrote an open letter to the mother of a rookie player who was from a township in New Jersey.   Western Union made a mistake and sent the story not to the paper in the city, but to the boy’s home address.  You can imagine the shock his mother experienced when Western Union knocked on her door with a collect telegram from the ballpark.

Then there was the lady who got a knock on her door and was informed she had an important telegram.  She asked, “Is it a singing telegram which was one of Western Union’s clever innovations?”   The delivery boy said no.  She insisted, “Oh no.  I have always wanted a singing telegram. Please tell me it is a singing telegram.”   Again, she was informed it was not a singing telegram.   She continued to lobby for a singing telegram, which prompted the delivery boy to say: “Okay, lady if you insist.  Tee, dum, dee dum, dum, your sister Rose is dead.”