The payphone outside the Denman Island General Store had been there for decades—a receptacle for gossip, pleas for help, conversations both tender and tough, and the odd prank call. So when the news came in winter 2021 that it would be removed, Denmanites didn’t take it quietly. Soon, Telus, the company responsible for the phone, was receiving a steady barrage of emails and calls.
“Save our phone booth!” became a rallying cry. Some people spoke up for tradition, emphasizing the General Store’s historic role as a community hub. Others focused on public safety, emergency response, and the way a payphone can be essential for people in precarious situations. Some advocated for those who couldn’t afford a cellphone, and also for folks choosing a low-tech life for philosophical and environmental reasons.
But Telus didn’t budge. Payphones, its spokespeople explained, were no longer viable—the companies that used to repair them had all closed. The Denman phone was not alone in facing oblivion; in fact, the entire payphone network was being dismantled.
The phone booth was removed in August 2022. End of story.
But also, the beginning of a story.
A community solution emerges
Nathan Garfat was one of many Denmanites troubled by the phone’s demise. Nathan is a blacksmith—a maker, fixer, and problem solver by trade and temperament. Quietly, he began imagining a way to bring the phone back, not as a corporate utility, but as a community creation.
His idea was simple: find an old, sturdy phone booth, install it somewhere in Denman’s tiny downtown, and connect it via the internet, creating a free resource managed by the people for the people.
Two years later, scrolling online, Nathan spotted an old phone booth for sale in Errington. That evening, he shared his vision on Denman’s social media: “This amazing unit just popped up at a killer price,” he posted. “Anyone feel like helping me make this dream come true?”
One time, a payphone saved their life. And that’s why they were like, yeah, we need a phone booth.
Five minutes later, his phone pinged: I can pay for the phone booth. What are your e-transfer details? By morning, the money was in Nathan’s account.
“This person wanted to remain anonymous, but we had a long chat,” says Nathan. “They were a sketchy travelling kid in their youth. They had a story about how one time, a payphone saved their life. And that’s why they were like, yeah, we need a phone booth.”
The technical challenges
Buying the booth was just the first step in a complex salvage project. Luckily, Nathan’s social media post had brought in a crew of supporters, among them the team that runs the Denman Island Community Hall. They offered to host the booth just outside the hall’s main entrance. You couldn’t ask for a better location—next to the library, playground, soccer field, elementary school, and preschool, and a short walk from the General Store, bookstore, hardware store, and bistro.
The original plan to use WiFi had one glitch: you can’t call 911 over the internet. The Community Hall folks quickly solved that by donating their landline.
The booth arrived in pieces. Nathan resurrected it, replacing broken glass, rewiring the system, and swapping out the ancient fluorescent lighting with modern LEDs. “They stopped making those bulbs in 1996,” he notes. He added a USB charging port after hearing that people were sneaking into the elementary school to charge their devices. Why not serve that need, too?
Transforming the booth into art
Nathan had another idea: the booth could double as an art installation. He invited local artists to paint original works on the booth’s nine lower panels. The resulting art spans a cornucopia of moods, from realist to surrealist.
Volunteers helped pour a foundation, erect the booth, and connect the telecommunications infrastructure. The line went live in December 2024, and Denman once again had a public phone, this time free.
A new community hub
“I see people using it a lot,” says Nathan. Families, especially, appreciate the phone.
“My daughter June uses the phone to check in with us,” says Denman parent Bronwynne Allison. “This gives her the freedom to go downtown. We know what she is up to without sending a phone with her. Plus, she’s learned multiple phone numbers by heart, which is so valuable.”
Eight-year-old Leon says, “I use the phone to call my mom and dad, and that means I can play with my friends at the playground.” After teen nights and summer day camps at the hall, line-ups of kids often form, waiting to call their parents for a ride home.
Sure, it’s a place for phone calls, but it’s also a local curiosity, art venue, source of empowerment for children, and a modest monument to the island’s do-it-yourself spirit.
Staff at the library next door report that people sometimes wander in asking, “Is that phone booth real?” Yes it is, they answer with pride.
Phone booths often show up in popular culture as sites of magic, transformation, and adventure. Clark Kent becomes Superman, Dr. Who journeys through the centuries, Harry Potter travels to the Ministry of Magic. Denman’s booth has not, as far as anyone knows, transported callers through space and time, but it does feel a bit magical: it holds multiple meanings within its narrow confines. Sure, it’s a place for phone calls, but it’s also a local curiosity, art venue, source of empowerment for children, and a modest monument to the island’s do-it-yourself spirit.
In a world where technological change and corporate bottom lines can leave us feeling helpless, and—literally, in this case—disconnected, the new Denman phone booth rings out with hope.
