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| Printz in the foreground |
I have a modest goal on Friday mornings, which is to write about interesting people in the belief that readers are interested in anything that is interesting. The problem, of course, is that I'm the only judge of what is interesting, and my tastes can be both eclectic and eccentric. This may explain this week's biography, as its subject is certainly esoteric.
Of the people about whom I write, some were of a smaller impact on world affairs and the grand progress of culture, arts, surfing, or popular culture than others. Some have had books written about them and have figured strongly in history. Some are people I've known personally who were, like most of us, all but invisible in greater history, but have meant something to me and to those who matter to me.
Then there are some who are not well-known but have had a subterranean influence on our culture. Those may be as modest as a telephone operator.
Mary Printz was an unlikely muse to a couple of Broadway composers. In our contemporary world her specialty has long been made redundant by the oppressive technology of communication that surrounds us. Before text messaging, e-mail, voice mail, and even answering machines [remember those?], Printz served a valuable role in keeping those in fast-moving businesses in contact with all of their varied concerns. Unlike much of modern technology, she did so in ways far more physical than a smart phone app.
Printz was born in the Midwest but moved to Virginia in her childhood. Despite a polio affliction and a failed marriage, she moved to New York City in the 1950's to seek a small portion of adventure. There, she worked in a variety of jobs related to the entertainment industry, eventually meeting her second husband. As he was a cocktail pianist and worked almost every evening, Printz took a night job with an answering service.
For those younger than I who may be unfamiliar with answering services, they were as indispensable, if not as ubiquitous, as a smart phone is today. When someone dialed your home or business phone number, and it was not answered in a certain number of rings, the call would be transferred to the answering service. There, a human being would pleasantly greet the caller and note whatever message was to be left. When available or willing, one would call one's service to receive the messages that had been recorded, with pen and paper, by the answering service operator.
As the rector of a parish in the 1990's I inherited an answering service from my predecessor, who found answering machines inelegant and blanched at the notion of carrying a phone on one's person during the course of the day. I have to say, I found it a rather deluxe experience. Not only can one escape from the incessant calls received by clergy, usually about matters rather minor, but I would be notified of true emergencies right away. After a short time, I came to know the operators by name and voice, if not by face, and found them to be invaluable. In fact, when once lost trying to find a house in a congested part of town, and before the advent of GPS systems, I called my answering service operator [from a pay phone!] to ask if she had any idea where the street might be. She did, and gave me directions.
So it was with Mary Printz. As the service for which she worked held clients who were primarily from the Broadway industry of actors, directors, producers, investors, musicians, and writers [frankly, I can't imagine a more neurotic collection of people], who tended to the dramatic even when not in a theater, Printz discovered her service included not just relaying messages, but becoming a confidant, unofficial assistant, and sometime co-conspirator with a collection of people both famous and plain.
In addition to her desk-bound duties, Printz would check on apartments left temporarily vacant by actors in road shows, water their plants, pick up their laundry, negotiate repairs with a building's super, and other non-standard services. In a famous story, one of her clients, the actor and playwright Noel Coward, absolutely had to have a bottle of scotch on a Sunday evening when all of the liquor stores were closed. Since Printz was married to a musician, and they can find liquor anywhere at any time, she had her husband personally deliver a bottle to Coward's apartment just in the nick of time. Due to these services, Printz became so in demand that she was able to start her own agency and, at its peak, served over 600 customers.
Her true fame came when Adolph Green and Betty Comden, the husband and wife Broadway writing team and clients of Printz's, wrote a hit musical with Jules Styne based on the life and service of an answering service operator. Debuting in 1956 and running for three years, Bells Are Ringing introduced Judy Holliday, playing the character based on Printz, to stage and screen fame and brought songs such as the title tune, "The Party's Over", and "Just in Time" to the chart of American standards. The plot concerned an answering service operator who, like Printz, served an eccentric cast of characters in ways beyond her defined duties. As it's a Broadway production, the operator also finds love with one of her clients.
Those who counted on Printz included a broad spectrum of performers such as Candice Bergen, Shirley MacLaine, Robert Redford, Burt Reynolds, Brooke Shields, Spencer Tracy, Tennessee Williams, and the rock band Kiss. By the end of her life, when technology had replaced answering services and Printz's company had diminished in its number of employees and clients, Woody Allen still preferred Mary Printz to any electronic alternative.
Printz died in 2009 at the age of 85. The musical based on her life is still produced, at least by high schools, for a generation clueless about the days of pay phones, answering services, and living operators. There are clergy I know who wish they could offer a fraction of that kind of service to their parishioners, as she understood how kindness can maintain and enrich a community.
Of the people about whom I write, some were of a smaller impact on world affairs and the grand progress of culture, arts, surfing, or popular culture than others. Some have had books written about them and have figured strongly in history. Some are people I've known personally who were, like most of us, all but invisible in greater history, but have meant something to me and to those who matter to me.
Then there are some who are not well-known but have had a subterranean influence on our culture. Those may be as modest as a telephone operator.
Mary Printz was an unlikely muse to a couple of Broadway composers. In our contemporary world her specialty has long been made redundant by the oppressive technology of communication that surrounds us. Before text messaging, e-mail, voice mail, and even answering machines [remember those?], Printz served a valuable role in keeping those in fast-moving businesses in contact with all of their varied concerns. Unlike much of modern technology, she did so in ways far more physical than a smart phone app.
Printz was born in the Midwest but moved to Virginia in her childhood. Despite a polio affliction and a failed marriage, she moved to New York City in the 1950's to seek a small portion of adventure. There, she worked in a variety of jobs related to the entertainment industry, eventually meeting her second husband. As he was a cocktail pianist and worked almost every evening, Printz took a night job with an answering service.
For those younger than I who may be unfamiliar with answering services, they were as indispensable, if not as ubiquitous, as a smart phone is today. When someone dialed your home or business phone number, and it was not answered in a certain number of rings, the call would be transferred to the answering service. There, a human being would pleasantly greet the caller and note whatever message was to be left. When available or willing, one would call one's service to receive the messages that had been recorded, with pen and paper, by the answering service operator.
As the rector of a parish in the 1990's I inherited an answering service from my predecessor, who found answering machines inelegant and blanched at the notion of carrying a phone on one's person during the course of the day. I have to say, I found it a rather deluxe experience. Not only can one escape from the incessant calls received by clergy, usually about matters rather minor, but I would be notified of true emergencies right away. After a short time, I came to know the operators by name and voice, if not by face, and found them to be invaluable. In fact, when once lost trying to find a house in a congested part of town, and before the advent of GPS systems, I called my answering service operator [from a pay phone!] to ask if she had any idea where the street might be. She did, and gave me directions.
So it was with Mary Printz. As the service for which she worked held clients who were primarily from the Broadway industry of actors, directors, producers, investors, musicians, and writers [frankly, I can't imagine a more neurotic collection of people], who tended to the dramatic even when not in a theater, Printz discovered her service included not just relaying messages, but becoming a confidant, unofficial assistant, and sometime co-conspirator with a collection of people both famous and plain.
In addition to her desk-bound duties, Printz would check on apartments left temporarily vacant by actors in road shows, water their plants, pick up their laundry, negotiate repairs with a building's super, and other non-standard services. In a famous story, one of her clients, the actor and playwright Noel Coward, absolutely had to have a bottle of scotch on a Sunday evening when all of the liquor stores were closed. Since Printz was married to a musician, and they can find liquor anywhere at any time, she had her husband personally deliver a bottle to Coward's apartment just in the nick of time. Due to these services, Printz became so in demand that she was able to start her own agency and, at its peak, served over 600 customers.
Her true fame came when Adolph Green and Betty Comden, the husband and wife Broadway writing team and clients of Printz's, wrote a hit musical with Jules Styne based on the life and service of an answering service operator. Debuting in 1956 and running for three years, Bells Are Ringing introduced Judy Holliday, playing the character based on Printz, to stage and screen fame and brought songs such as the title tune, "The Party's Over", and "Just in Time" to the chart of American standards. The plot concerned an answering service operator who, like Printz, served an eccentric cast of characters in ways beyond her defined duties. As it's a Broadway production, the operator also finds love with one of her clients.
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| An interesting coincidence: Holliday's first job in the acting industry was with Orson Welles' Mercury Theatre...as a telephone operator. |
Printz died in 2009 at the age of 85. The musical based on her life is still produced, at least by high schools, for a generation clueless about the days of pay phones, answering services, and living operators. There are clergy I know who wish they could offer a fraction of that kind of service to their parishioners, as she understood how kindness can maintain and enrich a community.