One day last summer, TIME'S Seattle bureau chief. Dean Brelis, was aboard a small launch in the middle of Lake Washington, watching a trial run of the Slo-Mo-Shun IV, 1952 Gold Cup winner. Suddenly a sailboat slid effortlessly up to the launch. As the sailboat started to turn, a young lady standing in the bow tossed a stone into the launch. Brelis picked up the stone, found a piece of paper wrapped around it with thick rubber bands. On the paper was a message for him to get in touch with Western Union's Operator 25 immediately, for a wire from TIME.

Operator 25 is many people with many functions--and, obviously, many facets of ingenuity. Basically, Western Union uses Operator 25 as a commercial service. If, for instance, you want to find out the name of the local distributor of the Cant-Chu-U dog muzzle, Operator 25 can tell you. In many cities, Operator 25 is also the person to call back when you are not at home to receive a wire. In that capacity, Operator 25--or her counterpart--has become a familiar voice to many TIME correspondents.

Says Brelis: "Operator 25 is uncanny. I have never met her, but she is like a shadow. She has contacted me at home or at the Washington Athletic Club. Once she paged me in a movie, told the manager that it was an important wire from New York and that TIME was holding the presses--a fabrication on the grandest level."

Across the continent, in Providence, R.I., Ben Bagdikian calls Operator 25 his "favorite Western Union employee." She seems to know what time he arrives home, once told his wife: "When he gets home at 5:30, will you have him call Operator 25? I've got a long one from TIME." She knows wires are to be sent to his office after they are read to him. Says Bagdikian: "She is a sympathetic audience and often giggles appreciatively at a query, but is also capable of indignation. She is a pretty good barometer of telegraphic opinion. When TIME asks for a cross section of opinion on a subject in the news, she can sometimes give a general idea about the ratio of pro to anti telegrams and their intensity."

What Bagdikian remembers most vividly about Operator 25 concerns a wire he once sent about a proposal by Rhode Island Governor Dennis ]. Roberts that the state build industrial plants for leasing to private firms. Roberts called the plan "a lively experiment." Bagdikian explained thai the expression came from the inscription on the State House, which he quoted from memory: "To hold forth a lively experiment that a most flourishing state may stand and best be maintained with full liberty in religious concernments." A little later he got a message to call Operator 25. Shouldn't the quotation read, she asked politely, "that a most flourishing civil state may stand?" He found a state manual, looked it up, and called back to tell Operator 25 she was right. He asked how she had known. She explained that she lived near the State House and walked by it almost daily.

In Toledo, Ohio, Correspondent C. W. Gilmore's chief link with the telegraph office is through an operator he knows only as Paul. Gilmore once also tried to use him as a news source. Trying to determine "Topic A" in his city (the subject most people are talking and thinking about), Gilmore asked via teletype what Paul was thinking about. The answer clicked back: "Women."

Operators 25 in Des Moines are chattier than most, reports Correspondent George Mills. One took a message about the development of wingless chickens in Iowa, exclaimed wonderingly: "What next?'' Another, taking a telegram about reckless teen-age drivers, agreed heartily, explained she was worried about her own teen-age daughter.

Says Cleveland's Eugene Segal: "I like to imagine that Operator 25 is young and beautiful." Segal says that some of the operators have got to know most of his family. When his son answers the phone, they will say, "Hello, David, is your dad there?" One operator volunteered a cold remedy when Segal's voice was hoarse one day, and ever since she has inquired about his health. Another, when he answered the phone after returning from a movie, asked: "Where have you been? I've been trying to get you all evening. This is one they want right away."

But telegraph operators in Reno have been hardened into indifference, reports Frank McCulloch, and the content of messages never surprises them. Perhaps, he says, that is because it is Reno, where all kinds of amazing telegrams go out all the time.

Cordially yours,

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