Blogs > Jim Collins' Editor's Notebook

Jim Collins is editor emeritus of The News-Herald and also serves as executive in residence at Lakeland Community College. His popular weekly column appears each Sunday in Comment in The News-Herald.

Friday, July 3, 2015

If you need more info on Lake County senior centers, just ask

Necessity has brought me before the TV cameras many hundreds of times over the past three-plus decades for the purpose of interviewing people in the course of my workday.
Most of the “victims” of my interrogations have been political candidates, although a good number of them have been folks who have been successful in various business ventures around the area.
Thus I have tried to make myself look as decent as possible to the viewers, many of whom don’t know me and probably wonder what I look like.
I prefer, in a word, to be presentable to those who are watching.
But what about radio? Who cares what you look like on radio?
I asked myself that question the other day as I was driving down, or over, if you prefer, to Station WINT in Willoughby, the station that was once known as WELW.
I also asked myself along the way, why do stations keep changing their names? There was once a station in Painesville called WPVL, and they billed it as “Where People Value Listening,” which I thought was reasonably clever. But they changed the letters. For what reason I never knew. But it bothered me.
I shouldn’t let things like that upset me. But I digress.
I was driving to WINT to submit to an interview with my good friend Joey Tomsick, an accomplished accordion player and band leader, but who in other circles is known as Joseph R. Tomsick, Chief Executive Officer of the Lake County Council on Aging.
It was in the latter capacity that he wished to talk with me. Not that I am aging that rapidly, mind you, I pointed out with my typical good nature, but because he wanted to help get out the message that there are some fascinating stories that can be told to the people who visit Lake County’s 12 senior centers.
We spent almost the entire show talking about those four programs, and if anyone in Lake County would like to have one of the four programs presented at a meeting, I am the person to call to set it up.
You may have seen one or more of the programs. We have been putting them on for several years to senior centers, libraries, service clubs, retiree groups such as Diamond Shamrock, church groups and many others. If your organization wants to schedule one, all you have to do is give me a call. I will get to that in a moment. We have presented them for as many as 200 people or as few as a half dozen.
My job is to do the introductions. The actual narratives are handled by Kathie Purmal, the retired executive director of the Lake County Historical Society.
Joey Tomsick showed up for our radio interview in a spiffy dark colored suit, button-down shirt and neat yellow pattern tie. Me? I was wearing khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt with some kind of lettering on it. I told him that as soon as we were finished I had to go home and cut the grass.
My point? On radio, who cares what you look like? Certainly not the engineer who is controlling the dials. Radio isn’t, after all, TV.
The four topics available, in case your group wants to hear one of them, are: The Mansions of Lake County, The Fabulous Ladies of Lake County, The Underground Railroad in Lake County, and “Betcha Didn’t Know About Lake County,” a sort of quiz in which members of the audience are encouraged to yell out the answers – if they know them.
You may have seen one or more of the programs. If you have not seen all four, then you still have some learning to do.
At least four times during our interview I told Joey how I can be reached to schedule a program. My number at Lakeland  Community College is 440-525-7522. If I’m not there, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. It’s as simple as that.
There are six non-profit partners in putting on the programs. They are, in no particular order, the Lakeland Foundation, the Lake-Geauga Fund of the Cleveland Foundation, Holden Arboretum, The Lake Health Foundation, The Lake County Council on Aging and The Lake County Historical Society.
There are also two partners in the business world who help with publicizing our activities – The News-Herald and Radio Station WINT.
We will try to accommodate as many requests for programs as possible, with this proviso – if Kathie Purmal is not available on the date and time of your choosing, then it will be extremely difficult to have the show go on.
There may be others who can handle the power point presentations, but I don’t know who they might be.
Keep in mind also that the price is right. The programs are free.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Class reunion open to all

“A pretty girl is like a melody...”

 Yes, indeed. My own personal pretty girl is very much like a melody. A melody that I can never do without.

There are many other songs about pretty girls, and they all make sense to me.

“There are girls just waiting for kisses, and I want to get me a few.”

Another compelling sentiment. I agree wholeheartedly. But do you notice the references to “girls?

Songwriters never say anything about “ladies” or “women.” At least, not in my record collections they don’t.

No, love songs are almost always about girls – especially pretty girls.

There must be a reason. I believe that pretty girls are here to stay.

Now, I don’t know the cutoff age at which “girls” become “ladies” or “women,” but I don’t care, and I’m not going to worry about it any more.

Here’s the situation: I am closely associated with several ladies who prefer not to be called “girls,” and that is OK with me. They sure look like girls to me, but what do I know?

My point is this (I knew I had one here someplace): My brother and I walked into Burgers N Beer in Downtown Willoughby a couple of Sundays ago and I was greeted by a very pretty girl who said, “Hi, Jim.”

She turned out to be the daughter of John Hesketh, who graduated a year before I did from Willoughby Union High School.

She wondered if the lady of the house and I are going to attend the annual high school reunion which is staged every year through the efforts of Ed Glavac, who was in Hesketh’s class (1945). I responded that it was in our plan.

The reunion is no longer exclusively for people who attended Union High. It is now open to friends. That is good, because we are running out of Union High people.

(The school closed about 1957 and was replaced by North and South highs).

That means you may attend. The reunion will be held Aug. 1 at the Patrician Party Center, 33150 Lakeland Blvd., Eastlake. It is a dinner-dance, slated for 4 to 9 p.m., with excellent food served family-style and dancing to the music of the popular Joey Tomsick Orchestra.

The cost is a very modest $25 per person. There will be an open bar, door prizes, a 50/50 raffle and a lot of fun guaranteed for all.

And that, of course, includes you.

Like all special events, there is a deadline. You must order your tickets by July 25. And you must submit a self-addressed envelope with a check made out to W.U.H. and sent to:

Ed Glavac
7465 Harding St.
Mentor, Ohio 44060.

If you would like to sit with friends, make a note of it when you order your tickets.

You can buy an ad in the program for $25, $50 or $100. Any additional information, for example your class year, any maiden or married names or other data would be helpful if submitted.

This is the 19th Reunion Dinner Dance, and if you can find a better meal for $25, let me know about it and I will give it a try.

If you have any questions, Ed Glavac can answer them if you call him at 440-953-0510.

The only problem the lady of the house and I have with the event is the timing.

We can’t get our two beautiful puppies fed and get there by 4 p.m. And in our household, the five animals (Maggie, Tricia, and the cats, Angel, Ruby and the newest member of the clan, tiny kitty Lillibelle) come first.

If you are an animal lover, you understand what I am talking about.

And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Our feelings about the five of them cannot be expressed in mere words.

And that is the kind of people we are.



Friday, June 19, 2015

Memories of John Glenn that will last forever

When I was in college, I wrote a term paper on the novelist Thomas Hardy. I never knew what compelled me to do that, but I think it might have been his sense of orderliness.
In his many volumes of writings, he never left any loose ends. When he brought up a subject, he finished it.
There must be a reason why I am telling you this. And there is.
A couple weeks ago, when I was writing about John Glenn and the man who worked for him for so many years, Dale Butland, I left some unfinished business. I said there were three things about the former astronaut and U.S. senator that I will never forget. I promised to recapture them. This is the day.
Dale has worked for John since 1980, and reports that his former boss is now 92 years old and living well and quietly, although he is no longer driving – which must seem strange to a man who orbited the Earth all alone in a space capsule and never had to look for a parking space.
One of the things I remember best about John Glenn came during one of his occasional visits to The News-Herald, when he stopped in just to chat, which he did from time to time.
He had with him a copy of People Magazine. It was dated Oct. 13, 1980. A teaser headline on the cover said: “How Mrs. Glenn overcame stuttering.” (The beautiful blonde on the cover was Cathy Lee Crosby. But I digress.)
The lengthy article inside told how “A senator’s wife licks her political nemesis: stuttering.”
To say that her husband was proud of her would be more than a mere understatement. You had to know the man to understand how much he loved her and the high esteem in which he held her.
“Here,” he said, “you can keep this,” as he handed me the magazine.
Those of you who know me and who have seen the jazz records in my basement are aware that I don’t throw many things away.
Which is totally opposite from the lady of the house, who never lets a day go by without throwing things away.
As you have probably guessed, I still have the magazine. I wish I had asked John to sign it, but I never think of things like that until it is too late.
I do think, however, I will take it with me when I have lunch with Dale Butland at Corky and Lenny’s and ask him to get John to sign it for me.
There is a great picture of John and Annie sitting at the controls of his twin-engine Beechcraft Baron. Which brings up the second thing I remember about John.
I was in Washington for a visit with the four men who represented this area at the time. Three of them were most cordial.
U.S. Rep. Bill Stanton asked me to his home to have dinner with him and Peggy, an invitation I was happy to accept.
Rep. Charlie Vanik sat in his office and chatted with me for more than hour. Charlie was one of the finest gentlemen you could ever hope to meet.
Bill was a Republican and Charlie a Democrat, but they were both Great Americans and so thoroughly decent that it’s a shame we can’t have a few hundred more like them in Congress instead of some of the ... oh well, let’s skip that.
I had a long chat with John Glenn in his office. He started out by saying, “How’s Ev Mastrangelo?” I told him Ev was fine and that I played bridge with the Lake County Democrat chairman at least once a week.
After our lengthy conversation, John asked how I was getting home to Ohio. He offered me a ride in his plane. I thanked him profusely, but said my car was parked at Hopkins, and he said he was flying into Burke Lakefront. So I had to turn down his very kind offer.
(The fourth person I hoped to see was Sen. Howard Metzenbaum, but he flatly turned me down. Oh well, three out of four isn’t bad, especially when the three were all people so beloved by the pubic.)
Here’s my third remembrance of John Glenn. He stopped in at the paper one day just as we were about to start construction on a new pressroom at our former building, which is only a few steps from our present building.
“Come with me,” John, I said. “We’re going to have a groundbreaking and there’s an extra shovel.”
So a dozen or so of us went outside, we grabbed shovels, and one of our crack photographers took a picture of us, including the senator/astronaut, digging a shovel of dirt to break ground on the addition.
That picture is another thing I probably have stashed away someplace, but please don’t ask me where that might be. It might take me a few days to find it.
A footnote: The reason I met Dale Butland for lunch at Corky and Lenny’s was so he could introduce me to his candidate for U.S. Senate, P.G. Sittenfeld, who will be running next year in the Democratic primary against Ted Strickland. The winner will oppose Republican Sen. Rob Portman, who remains one of the nicest people I have ever met. Dale and P.G. were on a whirlwind tour of Akron, Cleveland and Youngstown, and our lunch spot was the closest place we could connect.

Friday, June 12, 2015

The science behind the perfect password

Some alarming news has come to my attention, and I thought I’d better share it with you before it’s too late for you to do anything about it so you can take appropriate safeguards if you choose.
It has to do with an essay I wrote recently about my amazing ability to come up with safe passwords for use on computers.
By that, I mean passwords that cannot be breached, or hacked into, as it were, within a reasonable period of time.
If you are just learning to use a computer and you don’t know yet what a password is, it may be too late.
But passwords are made-up, or contrived, secret keys that open the world to you so that you may use the machine without anyone else knowing what you are doing.
They are sort of like PINs on your car’s engine, or your bank account, that allow you to keep secrets from others who may want to know what you are doing.
Since we are now, in this lesson, studying advanced computer usage (it’s sort of like advanced algebra) let us proceed with our lesson on how to make up passwords that no one can decipher.
After my last essay on the subject, I received an email from no less an authority than His Honor Gene Lucci, who is not only a highly respected member of the judiciary in Lake County and who sits on the bench in Lake County Common Pleas Court, but he is also the resident expert on the use of computers in the courtroom.
Be advised there is a great deal of difference in “sitting on the bench” in court and in baseball.
In baseball, you don’t get to play unless someone else is hurt or is taken out of the game by the manager for shoddy performance.
In court, when you are on the bench, you are actually working and listening attentively as lawyers are trying to keep crooked clients out of prison while prosecutors are trying to send them up the river.
In this instance, the river is the Hudson and the place prosecutors are trying to send them is Sing Sing. But we don’t have a Hudson River here, so they just try to send them away for a while to keep them away from the law-abiding citizens.
But I digress. That is about upper level work in law enforcement. Here we’re talking about passwords, and my close friend Gene Lucci knows everything there is to know about them.
In my essay, I noted that pi to 20 places would be an excellent password, especially if you don’t give it away by starting with 3, (as in three point) and just using the next 20 numbers as a way of fooling people, which is the exact idea when making up freakish passwords.
Gene, the expert, informed me that it would take a desktop a quadrillion years to crack that code if it contained the three point.
“Without the decimal point, it would take only 7,000 years to crack,” he estimated.
But who’s in a hurry?
“There is a website that will tell you how to secure a password,” he wrote. “Check it out. It is (are you ready for this?) https://howsecureismypassword.net/.”
So good luck with that. And happy sailing into the harbor of safe passwords. But I have an entirely different approach to the subject. Make your password as simple and as easy for outsiders to figure out as possible. And if somebody hacks into your computer, who cares?
At least, in my case I don’t care because I have nothing to hide. The only interesting thing an outsider would find in my computer at home would be a bunch of old emails and stuff people have sent me that I have saved.
For example, the most compelling thing you might find would be an old film clip of Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell tap-dancing to “Begin the Beguine.”
It is sensational. But if you really want to see it, don’t try to hack into my computer. I will be happy to send it to you.
Greg Patt, my personal computer guru, told me I don’t even need a password, because there is nothing there worth looking at.
Besides, he said, my password is much too complicated. Just so we are not holding anything back, it is “MaggieTricia” (our two beautiful puppies) plus four numbers in reverse order which were my street address on Maplewood Drive when I lived in Parma in 1959.
I would like to submit that to Judge Lucci to see how he rules on how long it would take to crack it.
But, of course, he doesn’t even have to crack it, because I already told you everything you need to know except the house number.
I will give you a clue: It is four numeral digits between zero and ten. And that’s as far as I am going to go.


Thursday, June 4, 2015

Sit down with Sittenfeld may prove to be informative

The good thing about this year’s elections is that they are local, so we may be spared the usual onslaught of TV commercials advising us which candidates are best qualified for whatever offices they are seeking.
The main problem with political ads on TV is that, unless you record the programs you are watching, you cannot speed through the commercials.
You just have to sit there and suffer – unless it is time for a trip to the refrigerator and the “mute” clicker for your TV doesn’t work.
As I have pointed out in the past, at our house we call everything that works the TV, the garage door or anything else that has a remote control a “clicker.”
In the sophisticated world of electronics, that sort of jargon may seem odd, but as long as the lady of the house and I speak the same language, what does it matter?
But I digress.
Politics this early in an odd-numbered year is often the furthest thing from my mind. It is parked there, in my mental garage, along with other things that I don’t particularly want to think about as I am preparing to cut the grass, trim the hedges or look for something I have been unable to find, for example, the spare turn signal bulb I stashed away following a two-day project to replace the burned out bulb.
That effort was indeed a valiant endeavor on the part of four people to remove the burned out bulb and insert the new one. The four experts who eventually got the job done before the arrival of winter were me, my brother Dave, Bob Riggin and Bill Crosier.
Let me be the first to assure you that when it comes to small, seemingly insignificant tasks, four minds are certainly better than one.
The fact that it was raining while Dave and I were involved in the project but it had stopped raining before Bob, Bill and I finally resolved the matter added to the confusion, if not to the chorus of “hurrahs” when it concluded.
But I am straying from my point, which is politics. It is well-removed from turn-signal bulbs.
The subject of politics was as far from my active thinking process as was the theory of integers (a fascinating element of mathematics which I never undertook) until the other day when my phone rang.
On the other end was a person regarded as one of the original geniuses in the field of political persuasion and one who is held in awe by all those who take the subject seriously and who yearn to learn a few things at his knee if only he would spare the time to talk a little shop – as in political shop talk.
His name is Dale Butland. That name is immediately linked by anyone in the political know-how with John Glenn.
Dale was the talent behind the Glenn campaigns and the two are still close, even though the former Marine pilot, astronaut and U.S. Senator is now 94 years old.
There is another Senate campaign that Dale is getting excited about, and he wanted to talk about it.
There is a Senate campaign coming up in 2016 ostensibly between the incumbent, Rob Portman, and the man who was governor of Ohio for one term, Ted Strickland, before he was ousted by one of my own personal favorites in government, Ohio Gov. John Kasich.
Rob Portman is also one of my favorite people. Dale had guessed as much before he launched into his comments about the man he favors in next year’s Democratic primary.
“I know, Jim, that politically you are slightly to the right of Attila the Hun,” Dale said, “but I just wanted to talk to you about a candidate who will beat Ted Stickland in the primary and who stands a chance against Rob Portman in November.”
After I assured Dale that I always regarded Attila the Hun as a dangerous left winger, and I had no fondness for Strickland because of the unconscionable treatment I got from him when he first ran for governor (it’s a long story), we spent some time chatting about John Glenn.
I told Dale three stories about the ex-astronaut that endeared him to me before we got around to talking about his candidate for the Senate in 2016.
(Those three stories are worth repeating, but not right now.)
His candidate is P.G. Sittenfeld, a member of Cincinnati city council, who is regarded as a bright and rising star in Democratic politics.
Dale spoke glowingly of his candidate. I agreed that everything I had read and heard about him was positive.
Dale added that Strickland doesn’t have a chance in 2016, that no one his age has ever been elected to a first term in the Senate since the popular election of senators became law in 1913.
He said he would like to bring Sittenfeld around. “We’d like to have lunch,” he said.
I agreed that would be a great idea. He could never talk me out of voting for Rob Portman, I said, but sitting down and talking would be a good idea.
I’m a good listener. And who knows? I might end up telling a lot of other people what a great guy P.G. Sittenfeld is.




Friday, May 29, 2015

All types of music can inspire us

What I am doing at this moment can only be described as an act of human kindness, because I am doing a favor (I hope) for a friend.
I am preparing a care package. At least, it was known in the Big War as a care package. And by the way, be careful when you type that, because if you are a slipshod typist, as I tend to be from time to time, the words can come out “cafe package,” and that is not what I have in mind.
There is a big difference between care and cafe, and spell check on the computer doesn’t know the difference.
I am putting together a package of CDs to send to Don Miller of Eastlake. We are both music lovers and have exchanged jazz recordings many times.
The last one I sent him, by the McGill University Jazz Orchestra, he liked so much he said he had to play it twice, back-to-back, to really understand how good it is.
But we both love all kinds of music. And that includes pop and country music as well as jazz.
That is something of a mea culpa on my part, because there was a time, not many years ago, when I would have echoed the words of Buddy Rich, the greatest drummer the world has ever known.
He was receiving medical care, and was asked by a nurse: “Are you allergic to anything?”
He famously replied: “Yes. County music.”
I thought it was pretty funny at the time, and would have agreed with him — until I learned to listen to, really hear and appreciate country music.
My transformation came after my sister, Molly, her husband and their two sons, moved to Nashville more than 30 years ago and became involved in a style of music I have come to warm up to a lot.
Their whole family is immersed in country music in one way or another. Their older son, Colin, tours the country with a couple of very well-known, high-profile country bands. I have seen him twice at the House of Blues in Cleveland.
And Molly has worked for many years with Moraine Records, which has a lot of superstars under contract.
My four or five visits to Grand Ol’ Opry merely enhanced my appreciation of the art form.
Meanwhile, Don Miller sent me a couple of discs by Moe Bandy. This was country music at its best. Songs like, “She’s Not Really Cheatin’ (She’s Just Gettin’ Even).”
And, “Our Love Could Burn Atlanta Down Again.” And, “Hank and Lefty Raised My Country Soul.” They really hit the mark with me. Simply outstanding!
I called Molly and asked if she had heard of Moe Bandy, because I had not. Silly me. Of course she had. She knew everything there was to know about him. Naturally she would. Her knowledge of popular and country music is encyclopedic.
I recalled that she had once sent me a CD called “Moraine Country Gold.” It was a promotional CD, not for resale. I asked if she had another one I could send to Don Miller.
She replied with a mini-treasure trove of country music, plus a different volume of “Moraine Gold.”
There was also a CD by Tim Wilgers featuring five songs written by Mike Reid, who plays piano and was at one time one of the best defensive players in the National Football League with the Cincinnati Bengals.
There was a CD by an Irish artist, Gareth Dunlop, whom Moraine is working with.
Molly was kind enough to send me two copies of each CD, so I now have one to play in the car when the lady of the house and I are out for a ride, and one to send to Don.
He, by the way, is a retired business teacher at Willoughby South but is a graduate of the former Willoughby Union High, as I am.
I am still trying to determine if his sister, Patricia, knew Molly at either Union High or at Eastlake North, where Molly brought notoriety to the family when she became the first homecoming queen there.
That would have been the fall of 1957 – I think. But I digress.
There is some confusion in my mind about the two “Moraine Gold” recordings because one has two CDs and the other has one but both are called Volume 1.
Oh well, I am going to stop worrying about it and get on with my chore of assembling the care package.
If all goes well, Don may receive it before this piece appears in the paper. But I can’t guarantee he will get it before it is posted on the Internet, because I have no control over that.
Everywhere I go, people comment about something they read in this column three or four days before it was intended for publication on Sunday.
It is the age we live in, and is a sign of progress. And who can be against progress?
Certainly not I. I am a typist, not a philosopher.

 

Friday, May 22, 2015

Creating a new password provides unexpected fun

I may have misled you last week when I gave the impression that I know next to nothing about computers.
In point of fact, as the late Willoughby Councilman Don Prindle was so fond of saying, there is actually A LOT that I know about computers.
I shall attempt to summarize the vast storehouse of information I have on the subject. But first, I must share with you some knowledge on another topic which I find fascinating.
The subject is palindromes. I cited, as examples, Mom, Dad, Radar, and one I have always believed to be the mother of them all. Or the father, as the case may be.
That would be “Able Was I Ere I Saw Elba.”
I reprinted one that Bud Boylan of Lyndhurst sent me: “Go Hang a Salami; I’m a Lasagna Hog.”
But in the interregnum since that little exercise (I am still tired from it all), I received one in the mail from Joann Rogers of Waite Hill, and it is equally spectacular.
Get a load of this one: “A Man, A Plan, A Canal – Panama.” If that doesn’t tickle your fancy, then perhaps nothing will.
And if you don’t know the backwards and forwards of palindromes, then this conversation is probably lost on you, so we will return to our assigned topic today, and that is computers.
Sorry about the lengthy digression, but sometimes I cannot help myself. I know it is probably a mental condition, but at least I am not homicidal. That I know of.
Anyway, there is one phase of the computer business (sickness?) that I probably know more about than anyone in the world. At least, in the world that we inhabit. I don’t know about the other places because I have never been there and I have no plans at the moment to visit there.
Janet Podolak is probably familiar with those places because she has been EVERYWHERE, and I have not.
I have been to Europe only once in my lifetime, and that was a trip to Germany which I took in her place because she was already booked for that week. But I digress.
What I know so much about in the World of Computers is passwords. Everywhere I go, if I use a computer, I keep getting instructions: “Change your password.”
For some users, and I use the term in its most innocuous sense, that is a terrible burden, because they are unable to come up with new passwords.
Not me. I can think of new passwords quicker than you can say Jackie Robinson. They literally roll off my tongue.
Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.
The trick to a good password is one that cannot be hacked into by someone in Bombay or Rangoon, you know, a thief in the night who wants to get access to your bank account, or your credit cards, or worse yet, the list of girls you dated in high school who attended the former Andrews School for Girls.
I don’t know what a thief would do with that list, because they are somewhat long in the tooth by now, but you get the idea.
The “experts” tell us that anyone who uses a birthday, mother’s maiden name or anything that can be learned at the drop of a hat is, in a word, stupid.
And believe me, if you have ever dropped your hat, you know how painful that can be. Especially if you are still wearing it.
I invent passwords no one could ever figure out. For example: 14159265358979323846. That is pi to 20 places. Who knows that, other than I?
Here is another one a hacker would have trouble with: RA15355077.
That was Don Slagle’s service number when he was in the Army. He was a high school classmate, and I haven’t
seen him since. Why would I remember it? I have no idea. That is just the way my mind works.
(I won’t tell you my Army serial number because I use it myself from time to time in passwords.)
Here is one you might like to use: Bob19Bernie19.
Here’s another one I like: JimmyCaseyDoak37.
I could go on all day making up passwords, but there is no profit in it unless clients start paying me for them.
By the way, there are missing names in the above passwords, and I will fill them in for you, in case you haven’t figured them out.
They are, Feller, Kosar, Piersall, Stengel and Walker.
Those are some of my favorite people in sports, mainly because I like their numbers.
I also liked Jim Otto’s number because it was 00. If you say that is not really a number, keep in mind, I am the person (a true story) who made up the phone number for The News-Herald when it was changed 40 or so years ago.
When I came up with 951-0000, the general manager told me, “That’s not a real number.”
“Sure it is,” I said. “Just call up Ohio Bell. They’ll tell you it is.”
He did, and they did. And I rested my case, which needed the relaxation because I was getting a little tired.