Here’s a twist: My grandparents owned a bar, Andy’s. Until sold when I was 20, they 
had a phone booth in the bar, which also doubled as their home phone.
My mom worked at the bar. If she needed to call home, my grandmother wanted to contact us, or I was there and needed to call home, the call was made. Let it ring once, hang up, and get the dime back.
If anyone was at home, that was the signal to call back to the bar immediately. That way, we saved a lot of dimes.
My grandparents lived upstairs. To be able to call from the first to the second floor, they had two World War II field phones that operated with a crank for those calls. My family moved upstairs during my sixth-grade year while building a new house. My grandparents added a phone upstairs to make calls. 
Incidentally, I can say this now because my family has been out of the bar business since 1986; if anyone calls the bar looking for someone, say a spouse, let’s say Mary Smith is calling to see if her husband, John Smith, was there, the routine was always the same. My grandmother would answer the phone.
GM: “Andy’s.”
MS: “Is John there?”
GM: “Let me check. “John! John Smith! [pause] Has
anyone seen John Smith today?
Voice: “NO
GM: “He’s not here. No one has seen him today. If I
see him, I can let him know you called.”
Now, John Smith may have been there. During the pause after his name was called, he could wave off the call or decide to take it- his choice.
Three years ago, there was a movie, The Tender Bar. It was a biographical movie about a boy growing up and learning about life among the patrons at his uncle’s bar. That’s my story, but I didn’t get a movie deal.