Halfway through our lunch, the maitre d’ arrived tableside to tell me there was a phone call. Using the information I’d shared — the town I lived in and my profession, actress — he’d tried to find a phone number for me but had come up empty. (This was a time before cellphones and the internet, kids; he was using something called the phone book. He’d also tried the Player’s Directory, in which actors listed their photos and agents. So he called the restaurant, hoping I’d still be there.

Source: Los Angeles Times March 02, 2019 14:03 UTC