976-GONE.(The Talk of the Town)

There are many ways of checking the weather. The original one--step outside, feel the air, note the wind--has fallen out of favor, though if you know what you're doing you can still make it work. People tend to prefer secondary sources these days--newspaper, radio, television, ticker, beeper, Internet, elevator screen--and you can't go very far without stumbling over a five-day forecast or an update on the current conditions. This glut may explain why no uproar or protest greeted the demise, the other day, of good old 976-1212, which for decades has been the number to call for the weather.

It was but one of hundreds of pay-per-call services, some more wholesome than others, that were yanked on March 24th by Verizon, the city's ruling phone company. Other casualties included 976-1616 ("At the tone, the time will be two-forty-two and thirty-six seconds") and numbers that could access fly-by-night stock advice and up-to-the-minute results of marching-band competitions. There was no announcement, no explanation.

Verizon's motto is (in the voice of James Earl Jones) "Make progress every day," so this, apparently, was that particular day's leap forward, though it hardly felt like one. In 1939, New York Telephone established the first weather update that could be reached by multiple callers. The number was WE6-1212--WEather 6. In time, 976 replaced 936 as the prefix for this and other such local services around the country. Soon 976 was joined by 970, 550, 900, 880, and 540, each with a particular pricing arrangement and technical capacity. They flourished in the eighties, before the Internet came along. The companies that operated these "channels" were known as Information Providers, or I.P.s. The information they provided pertained to astrology, pro wrestling, soap operas, and porn. This, lest we forget, was the era of 976-peee, "the extra 'e' for extra pee."

Last week, callers to 976-1212 were greeted with a contrapuntal tune consisting, simultaneously, of a ringing signal and a busy signal, what Charles Ives might have come up with if he'd been asked to render in song the nor'easter that was soaking the city and stalling the onset of spring. Eventually, the ringing ceased and a recording kicked in, but the busy signal made it impossible to hear what the recording had to say, other than the usual, "We're sorry."

A call to Verizon didn't reveal much, either. The company spokesman seemed to be preoccupied ...