North Electric Galion Number 2!
Collecting, Repair/Restoration June 3rd. 2008, 7:47am
Yesterday I opened up the second of my four North Electric phones, and was happy to see that its internal condition bore little resemblance to the first. You may recall that the inside of the first phone had a certain “rats nest” quality, and I was braced for a similar condition this time around. But in comparison to the dust and grime of the previous phone, this one was the very essence of cleanliness. But as it turned out, Galion #2 had some surprises of its own in store for me.
It didn’t take long for me to see that the wiring on this example was, well…different. Perplexed by the inconsistency (the phones were used in a common environment, after all), I popped the top on Galion #1 for comparison. The most obvious difference was the line cord which, on #2, consists of five conductors! I was (still am) baffled by this setup. If, as purported by the seller, these four phones all came from a doctor’s office, some of the wiring oddness could reflect that setup. (and as I write this, the same eBay seller is auctioning a North Electric wall phone, also with the white light!) What sort of network these phones were a part of is quite beyond anything my amateur mind can grasp. The seriously distressed handset cord had been disconnected at some point, with only about 8 inches of frayed cord dangling from the handset. While we’re on the subject of handsets, something caught my eye as I studied the pathetic remnant of a cord. Something white was visible through the holes in the transmitter cap… a Kleenex. A very old and yellowed Kleenex had been stuffed behind the cap. I know I’m a rookie at this phone stuff, and there’s probably a perfectly logical reason for such, but I’ll be danged if I can figure it out. 
Was this phone used as an “eavesdropping extension”? I can just imagine someone listening in, comfortable in the knowledge that their snickering won’t be overheard.
Anyone that is really into “old stuff” can’t help but to be intrigued by all this. After-all, these idiosyncrasies all speak of a history, of a past that is woven between this particular phone and who knows how many people. Who decided that these phones needed those funky white lights? Who stuffed the handset with a Kleenex, and why? I’ll bet that many phone restoration types couldn’t care less, and consider such things to be little more than annoyances, merely impediments to completion. These phones were made and used by people, and I can’t take out the human element.
If that line cord could only talk… I would probably get an ear-full about the abuse and neglect it was subjected to. 
I respectfully replaced the tattered cord and fitted a replacement handset cord while I was at it. The dial is in desperate need of cleaning, returning at a speed best clocked with a calendar, but I could still test it for a dial tone. Passed. Then I called it with my cell phone. (cell phones are necessary evils, only good for testing vintage phones) Gosh dang, it even rings! I thought I’d be smart and adjust the gongs (that’s bells to you rookies. Wait, I’m a rookie!) in advance, setting a clearance similar to what worked perfectly on a W.E. 302. That’s when I discovered that adjusting a ringer to have that “just right” sound isn’t a science. It’s an art. I’ll be studying that art, as well as figuring out how to clean a gummed-up dial. From what I can gather, dial repair isn’t a science or an art… it’s voodoo!
