Excuse me, sir! Newspapers were Google before Google

There was a time before Google. It was before we could ask any question into a phone (what was the name of the movie about the White House butler? What are the biggest cities in New Mexico? How tall is Ben Simmons? What are the uninhabited Hawaiian Islands?) and immediately get an answer.

There was no internet, but we could still ask questions and find answers. From newspapers.

Newspapers were the definitive source of information about everything and it wasn't just what they published.

When I started working in newspapers in the mid-1980s, we routinely received calls from the public, asking us to settle disputes. This wasn't part of the job description, but it happened all the time.

I worked in sports, so many of our calls came from local watering holes, where someone talked the bartender into letting him use the phone to settle a bet with his friend.

"Hey, I've got a question for you," the man (it was always a man) would shout into the phone, so he could be heard over the crowd. Then he'd ask a very specific question: "Who did the Jets beat when they won the Super Bowl?" Or, "How many homers did Willie Mays hit?" We would listen and then supply the answer, since most of the questions were the type that any sports writer would know.

The bar guy would shout for joy, then demand that we repeat our answer as he handed the phone to his friend, who accepted our answer.

Because we were authoritative. We were Google before Google.

For years, the Daily Republic sports staff regularly received calls from a man who spoke clipped English with very specific requests, always prefaced the same way. "Excuse me, sir! Could you please tell the result of tonight's major league baseball game in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, between the San Francisco Giants and the Philadelphia Phillies?" He would always say "Excuse me, sir" and would always say the full name of the city, the entire team names and the official name of the sport.

We answered, because we were Google before Google.

Another frequent question was the date of the next Super Bowl. Calls would begin in about March and continue at random intervals. We always presumed it was someone planning a Super Bowl party or trying to avoid a conflict with the Super Bowl, but we just answered, because we were Google before Google.

On election night, the newsroom (even sports writers) would receive constant calls, seeking local results. Other times, people would call to ask how to find Channel 5 on their TV ("Get your remote and click the numeral five."). Others would ask about the weather forecast for the weekend or how much it cost to tour Jelly Belly.

And then the "Excuse me, sir!" guy would call for the score of that night's "National Basketball Association game in Boston, Massachusetts, between the Los Angeles Lakers and Boston Celtics."

Times changed. The internet surpassed newspapers as the primary source for instant information. I presume most reporters could tell a caller who was president before Bill Clinton or when the Super Bowl is played (3:30 p.m. the first Sunday in February), but it's quicker to ask Google.

In a way, it's sad. But like a lot of things we reminisce about, I suspect we see it as a misty water-colored memory.

I remember plenty of nights when deadline was approaching, articles were still being written, coaches were calling in results and I would get the phone call: "Excuse me, sir! Do you have the score of the National Hockey League game tonight in Detroit, Michigan, involving the San Jose Sharks and the Detroit Red Wings?"

I would stop and look it up. At that moment, I would have been grateful for Google.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.