In 1968, Artist Imagines What John, Paul, George & Ringo Will Look Like When They’re 64

beatles64

When I get old­er los­ing my hair,
Many years from now,
Will you still be send­ing me a valen­tine
Birth­day greet­ings bot­tle of wine?

Paul McCart­ney’s wist­ful song “When I’m Six­ty-Four” was released on the Bea­t­les’ 1967 album Sgt. Pep­per’s Lone­ly Hearts Club Band. The next year, an artist named Michael Leonard tried to imag­ine what the young musi­cians might look like four decades lat­er — on their 64th birth­days. We nev­er got a chance to fig­ure out whether he sized up Lennon and Har­ri­son cor­rect­ly. But we know that Paul, even at 71 today, nev­er got jow­ly. And Ringo nev­er went the suit route. You can see for your­self when the two per­form at the Gram­mys on Jan­u­ary 26.

Don’t miss any­thing from Open Cul­ture. Sign up for our Dai­ly Email or RSS Feed. And we’ll send cul­tur­al curiosi­ties your way, every day. 

Relat­ed con­tent 

Flash­mob Per­forms The Bea­t­les’ ‘Here Comes the Sun’ in Madrid Unem­ploy­ment Office

Eric Clapton’s Iso­lat­ed Gui­tar Track From the Clas­sic Bea­t­les Song, ‘While My Gui­tar Gen­tly Weeps’ (1968)

The Bea­t­les: Unplugged Col­lects Acoustic Demos of White Album Songs (1968)

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“The Tolkien Professor” Presents Three Free Courses on The Lord of the Rings

tolkien prof

A quick update: Last year, we told you about Corey Olsen, an Eng­lish Pro­fes­sor at Wash­ing­ton Col­lege, who start­ed pub­lish­ing online lec­tures on the writ­ing of J.R.R. Tolkien. We ini­tial­ly fea­tured his lec­ture series on The Hob­bit. Now “The Tolkien Pro­fes­sor,” as Olsen is oth­er­wise known, presents a series of online cours­es on The Lord of the Rings tril­o­gy:

  • Lord of the Rings I: The Road Goes Ever OniTune­sU
  • Lord of the Rings II: The Two Tow­ersiTune­sU — Web
  • Lord of the Rings III: Return of the King - iTunes U — Web

As a bonus, you can access Olsen’s Under­grad­u­ate Sur­vey Course on Tolkien (avail­able on the web). The 14-week course was pre­sent­ed and record­ed at Wash­ing­ton Col­lege in the Spring of 2010.

All of Olsen’s cours­es are cat­a­logued in the Lit­er­a­ture sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of 825 Free Online Cours­es.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lis­ten to J.R.R. Tolkien Read a Lengthy Excerpt from The Hob­bit (1952)

Lis­ten to J.R.R. Tolkien Read Poems from The Fel­low­ship of the Ring, in Elvish and Eng­lish (1952)

Fan­tas­tic BBC Footage of J.R.R. Tolkien in 1968

Free Audio: Down­load the Com­plete Chron­i­cles of Nar­nia by C.S. Lewis

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Read David Foster Wallace’s Notes From a Tax Accounting Class, Taken to Help Him Write The Pale King

Wallace_26

Click images once to enlarge, and twice to zoom in.

There are two ways to gath­er mate­r­i­al for a book. The first is to live life to the full. Ernest Hem­ing­way fished, fought, and went to bull­fights. Her­man Melville and Charles Bukows­ki slept their way through an impres­sive por­tion of the West­ern world. Jack Ker­ouac spent years trav­el­ling before he reached the crit­i­cal moment where he was ready to write On The Road. These authors lived with a pal­pa­ble inten­si­ty, and used their expe­ri­ences as fuel for their writ­ing. Oth­ers, how­ev­er, did not rely on first­hand accounts. Elmore Leonard paid a leg­man named Gregg Sut­ter to do his research, using Sutter’s accounts of loca­tions as the scaf­fold­ing for his descrip­tions. Nathan Eng­lan­der wrote a fine­ly-tuned nov­el about the dis­ap­peared dur­ing Argentina’s Dirty War hav­ing only vis­it­ed Buenos Aires for a week. He did a lot of read­ing.

In writ­ing The Pale King, a nov­el of 1980s IRS agents stul­ti­fied by bore­dom in Peo­ria, Illi­nois, David Fos­ter Wal­lace joined the lat­ter group. Although Wal­lace had left an unfin­ished man­u­script when he com­mit­ted sui­cide in 2008, he had spent more than a decade work­ing on it. In fact, a year after the release of his opus, Infi­nite Jest, Wal­lace enrolled in account­ing class­es at Illi­nois State Uni­ver­si­ty to learn about pre­cise­ly what IRS agents did. Accord­ing to The New York Times’ Jen­nifer Schuessler, the author began “plow­ing through shelves of tech­ni­cal lit­er­a­ture, tran­scrib­ing notes on tax scams, cri­te­ria for audit and the prob­lem of ‘agent ter­ror­ism’ into a series of note­books.”

Today, we bring you two pages of his notes (click the images to enlarge). In the first, above, Wal­lace has jot­ted down a few key points about accru­al and defer­ral, along­side what is like­ly a note to self on the subject’s dif­fi­cul­ty: “A BITCH.”

In the sec­ond, below, Wal­lace writes, “‘You’re home free, you did it,’ says teacher. Account­ing is sea of dis­parate data threat­en­ing to drown us. One ‘escapes,’ ‘gets out safe­ly’ from a clos­ing cycle.” Cryp­tic? You bet. But not as cryp­tic to the untrained eye as “ACCOUNTANTS ARE THE COWBOYS OF INFORMATION,” scrawled diag­o­nal­ly across the bot­tom of the page.

For an astute inter­pre­ta­tion of these notes, I urge you to head over to The New York­er and read Seth Colter Walls’David Fos­ter Wallace’s Tax Class­es.”

Wallace_26_2

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

30 Free Essays & Sto­ries by David Fos­ter Wal­lace on the Web

David Fos­ter Wallace’s Love of Lan­guage Revealed by the Books in His Per­son­al Library

The David Fos­ter Wal­lace Audio Archive: A Lit­tle Gift For the Novelist’s 50th Birth­day

How Coffee Affects Your Brain: A Very Quick Primer

The morn­ing cup of cof­fee sweeps the cob­webs off of your brain. Almost mag­i­cal­ly. Just like that. If you care to get ana­lyt­i­cal about what’s going on in your caf­feinat­ed brain, we give you a short video from PHD comics — short, of course, for Piled High­er and Deep­er. For more of their videos see:

The Hig­gs Boson, AKA the God Par­ti­cle, Explained with Ani­ma­tion

What’s Next for the Large Hadron Col­lid­er? PhD Comics Intro­duces the Search for Extra Dimen­sions

Dark Mat­ter Ani­mat­ed: The Next Fron­tier of Dis­cov­ery for Physi­cists and Cos­mol­o­gists

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Vintage Photos of a Young Virginia Woolf Playing Cricket (Ages 5 & 12)

woolf and sister playing cricket

Scenes, I note, sel­dom illus­trate my rela­tion with Vanes­sa; it has been too deep for ‘scenes’. Vanes­sa and I were both what we call tomboys; that is, we played crick­et, scram­bled over rocks, climbed trees, were said not to care for clothes and so on.

Until she was fif­teen indeed, she was out­ward­ly sober and aus­tere, the most trust­wor­thy, and always the eldest; some­times she would lament her “respon­si­bil­i­ties”. But beneath the seri­ous sur­face … there burnt also the…passion for art. …Once I saw her scrawl on a black door a great maze of lines, with white chalk. “When I am a famous painter-” she began, and then turned shy and rubbed it out in her capa­ble way…She was awk­ward as a long-legged colt.

This is how Vir­ginia Woolf remem­bered her sis­ter Vanes­sa Bell in cor­re­spon­dence that’s been revived by a Smith Col­lege web site. Lat­er in life, of course, Woolf wrote some of the finest mod­ernist works of the 20th cen­tu­ry. Mean­while Vanes­sa became a respect­ed painter — see 142 of her paint­ings here — and a cen­tral mem­ber of the avant-garde Blooms­bury Group. As adults, they both had a lot of cul­tur­al clout. But dur­ing anoth­er time — dur­ing their “tomboy” years — they were just kids look­ing for a good game of crick­et. Above, we have an 1894 pic­ture of Vir­ginia (in the front, about 12 years old) and Vanes­sa, play­ing crick­et at St. Ives. Below we have a shot, cour­tesy of Smith’s web site, of 5‑year-old Vir­ginia play­ing crick­et with her lit­tle broth­er Adri­an Stephen (also lat­er a mem­ber of the Blooms­bury Group) in 1886.

Works by Woolf can be found in our Free Audio Books and Free eBooks col­lec­tions.

virginia woolf cricket 5

via The Paris Review

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

Vir­ginia Woolf Writes About Joyce’s Ulysses, “Nev­er Did Any Book So Bore Me,” and Quits at Page 200

Por­traits of Vir­ginia Woolf, James Joyce, Wal­ter Ben­jamin & Oth­er Lit­er­ary Leg­ends by Gisèle Fre­und

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Read 12 Masterful Essays by Joan Didion for Free Online, Spanning Her Career From 1965 to 2013

Image by David Shankbone, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In a clas­sic essay of Joan Didion’s, “Good­bye to All That,” the nov­el­ist and writer breaks into her narrative—not for the first or last time—to prod her read­er. She rhetor­i­cal­ly asks and answers: “…was any­one ever so young? I am here to tell you that some­one was.” The wry lit­tle moment is per­fect­ly indica­tive of Didion’s unspar­ing­ly iron­ic crit­i­cal voice. Did­ion is a con­sum­mate crit­ic, from Greek kritēs, “a judge.” But she is always fore­most a judge of her­self. An account of Didion’s eight years in New York City, where she wrote her first nov­el while work­ing for Vogue, “Good­bye to All That” fre­quent­ly shifts point of view as Did­ion exam­ines the truth of each state­ment, her prose mov­ing seam­less­ly from delib­er­a­tion to com­men­tary, anno­ta­tion, aside, and apho­rism, like the below:

I want to explain to you, and in the process per­haps to myself, why I no longer live in New York. It is often said that New York is a city for only the very rich and the very poor. It is less often said that New York is also, at least for those of us who came there from some­where else, a city only for the very young.

Any­one who has ever loved and left New York—or any life-alter­ing city—will know the pangs of res­ig­na­tion Did­ion cap­tures. These eco­nom­ic times and every oth­er pro­duce many such sto­ries. But Did­ion made some­thing entire­ly new of famil­iar sen­ti­ments. Although her essay has inspired a sub-genre, and a col­lec­tion of breakup let­ters to New York with the same title, the unsen­ti­men­tal pre­ci­sion and com­pact­ness of Didion’s prose is all her own.

The essay appears in 1967’s Slouch­ing Towards Beth­le­hem, a rep­re­sen­ta­tive text of the lit­er­ary non­fic­tion of the six­ties along­side the work of John McPhee, Ter­ry South­ern, Tom Wolfe, and Hunter S. Thomp­son. In Didion’s case, the empha­sis must be decid­ed­ly on the lit­er­ary—her essays are as skill­ful­ly and imag­i­na­tive­ly writ­ten as her fic­tion and in close con­ver­sa­tion with their autho­r­i­al fore­bears. “Good­bye to All That” takes its title from an ear­li­er mem­oir, poet and crit­ic Robert Graves’ 1929 account of leav­ing his home­town in Eng­land to fight in World War I. Didion’s appro­pri­a­tion of the title shows in part an iron­ic under­cut­ting of the mem­oir as a seri­ous piece of writ­ing.

And yet she is per­haps best known for her work in the genre. Pub­lished almost fifty years after Slouch­ing Towards Beth­le­hem, her 2005 mem­oir The Year of Mag­i­cal Think­ing is, in poet Robert Pinsky’s words, a “traveler’s faith­ful account” of the stun­ning­ly sud­den and crush­ing per­son­al calami­ties that claimed the lives of her hus­band and daugh­ter sep­a­rate­ly. “Though the mate­r­i­al is lit­er­al­ly ter­ri­ble,” Pin­sky writes, “the writ­ing is exhil­a­rat­ing and what unfolds resem­bles an adven­ture nar­ra­tive: a forced expe­di­tion into those ‘cliffs of fall’ iden­ti­fied by Hop­kins.” He refers to lines by the gift­ed Jesuit poet Ger­ard Man­ley Hop­kins that Did­ion quotes in the book: “O the mind, mind has moun­tains; cliffs of fall / Fright­ful, sheer, no-man-fath­omed. Hold them cheap / May who ne’er hung there.”

The near­ly unim­peach­ably author­i­ta­tive ethos of Didion’s voice con­vinces us that she can fear­less­ly tra­verse a wild inner land­scape most of us triv­i­al­ize, “hold cheap,” or can­not fath­om. And yet, in a 1978 Paris Review inter­view, Didion—with that tech­ni­cal sleight of hand that is her casu­al mastery—called her­self “a kind of appren­tice plumber of fic­tion, a Cluny Brown at the writer’s trade.” Here she invokes a kind of arche­type of lit­er­ary mod­esty (John Locke, for exam­ple, called him­self an “under­labour­er” of knowl­edge) while also fig­ur­ing her­self as the win­some hero­ine of a 1946 Ernst Lubitsch com­e­dy about a social climber plumber’s niece played by Jen­nifer Jones, a char­ac­ter who learns to thumb her nose at pow­er and priv­i­lege.

A twist of fate—interviewer Lin­da Kuehl’s death—meant that Did­ion wrote her own intro­duc­tion to the Paris Review inter­view, a very unusu­al occur­rence that allows her to assume the role of her own inter­preter, offer­ing iron­ic prefa­to­ry remarks on her self-under­stand­ing. After the intro­duc­tion, it’s dif­fi­cult not to read the inter­view as a self-inter­ro­ga­tion. Asked about her char­ac­ter­i­za­tion of writ­ing as a “hos­tile act” against read­ers, Did­ion says, “Obvi­ous­ly I lis­ten to a read­er, but the only read­er I hear is me. I am always writ­ing to myself. So very pos­si­bly I’m com­mit­ting an aggres­sive and hos­tile act toward myself.”

It’s a curi­ous state­ment. Didion’s cut­ting wit and fear­less vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty take in seem­ing­ly all—the expans­es of her inner world and polit­i­cal scan­dals and geopo­lit­i­cal intrigues of the out­er, which she has dis­sect­ed for the bet­ter part of half a cen­tu­ry. Below, we have assem­bled a selec­tion of Didion’s best essays online. We begin with one from Vogue:

“On Self Respect” (1961)

Didion’s 1979 essay col­lec­tion The White Album brought togeth­er some of her most tren­chant and search­ing essays about her immer­sion in the coun­ter­cul­ture, and the ide­o­log­i­cal fault lines of the late six­ties and sev­en­ties. The title essay begins with a gem­like sen­tence that became the title of a col­lec­tion of her first sev­en vol­umes of non­fic­tion: “We tell our­selves sto­ries in order to live.” Read two essays from that col­lec­tion below:

The Women’s Move­ment” (1972)

Holy Water” (1977)

Did­ion has main­tained a vig­or­ous pres­ence at the New York Review of Books since the late sev­en­ties, writ­ing pri­mar­i­ly on pol­i­tics. Below are a few of her best known pieces for them:

Insid­er Base­ball” (1988)

Eye on the Prize” (1992)

The Teach­ings of Speak­er Gin­grich” (1995)

Fixed Opin­ions, or the Hinge of His­to­ry” (2003)

Pol­i­tics in the New Nor­mal Amer­i­ca” (2004)

The Case of There­sa Schi­a­vo” (2005)

The Def­er­en­tial Spir­it” (2013)

Cal­i­for­nia Notes” (2016)

Did­ion con­tin­ues to write with as much style and sen­si­tiv­i­ty as she did in her first col­lec­tion, her voice refined by a life­time of expe­ri­ence in self-exam­i­na­tion and pierc­ing crit­i­cal appraisal. She got her start at Vogue in the late fifties, and in 2011, she pub­lished an auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal essay there that returns to the theme of “yearn­ing for a glam­orous, grown up life” that she explored in “Good­bye to All That.” In “Sable and Dark Glass­es,” Didion’s gaze is stead­ier, her focus this time not on the naïve young woman tem­pered and hard­ened by New York, but on her­self as a child “deter­mined to bypass child­hood” and emerge as a poised, self-con­fi­dent 24-year old sophisticate—the per­fect New York­er she nev­er became.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Joan Did­ion Reads From New Mem­oir, Blue Nights, in Short Film Direct­ed by Grif­fin Dunne

30 Free Essays & Sto­ries by David Fos­ter Wal­lace on the Web

10 Free Sto­ries by George Saun­ders, Author of Tenth of Decem­ber, “The Best Book You’ll Read This Year”

Read 18 Short Sto­ries From Nobel Prize-Win­ning Writer Alice Munro Free Online

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

How Hunter S. Thompson — and Psilocybin — Influenced the Art of Ralph Steadman, Creating the “Gonzo” Style

Though the two men only occa­sion­al­ly col­lab­o­rat­ed over their long friend­ship, the work of Ken­tucky-born “gonzo” jour­nal­ist Hunter S. Thomp­son and that of British illus­tra­tor Ralph Stead­man enjoy a cul­tur­al sym­bio­sis: Thomp­son’s style of writ­ing puts you in the mind of Stead­man’s style of draw­ing, and vice ver­sa even more so. At this point, I have a hard time imag­in­ing any suit­able visu­al accom­pa­ni­ment to the simul­ta­ne­ous­ly clear- and wild-eyed sen­si­bil­i­ty of Thomp­son­ian prose — “I hate to advo­cate drugs, alco­hol, vio­lence, or insan­i­ty to any­one,” he famous­ly said, “but they’ve always worked for me” — oth­er than the bold strokes and vio­lent blotch­es with which Stead­man ren­ders visions of high­ly con­trolled mad­ness. The clip above, from Alex Gib­ney’s doc­u­men­tary Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thomp­son, explores the ori­gins of their aes­thet­ic and psy­cho­log­i­cal part­ner­ship.

“I think what he saw in this con­nec­tion was some­body that some­how saw the thing in pic­tures as he saw it in life,” says Stead­man. “Our chem­istry there made gonzo pos­si­ble.” We then see the rel­a­tive­ly tame, con­ven­tion­al style in which he drew before Thomp­son roared into his life, bear­ing a hand­ful of psilo­cy­bin. Their paths had con­verged at the Ken­tucky Der­by, which Scan­lan’s mag­a­zine had assigned them to cov­er, and the drugs made the already grotesque scene even more vivid­ly trou­bling. “I was a qui­et boy,” Stead­man remem­bers. “Decent. An inno­cent abroad. So I guess it was attrac­tive, that kind of raci­ness. I think the birth of gonzo hap­pened when the evil came out of me in the draw­ings.” You can read the ground­break­ing fruit of their hal­lu­cino­geni­cal­ly enhanced labors, “The Ken­tucky Der­by is Deca­dent and Depraved,” at our col­lec­tion of Hunter Thomp­son arti­cles online. For more on Stead­man’s tech­nique and career, which con­tin­ues today, watch the Econ­o­mist’s vis­it to the “sav­age satirist’s” stu­dio just above.

You can find a fair­ly com­pre­hen­sive com­pendi­um of Stead­man’s art in the 1998 book Gonzo: The Art, which fea­tures an intro­duc­tion by Thomp­son him­self.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Read 10 Free Arti­cles by Hunter S. Thomp­son That Span His Gonzo Jour­nal­ist Career (1965–2005)

Fear and Loathing on the Road to Hol­ly­wood: The BBC’s 1978 Por­trait of Hunter S. Thomp­son

The Crazy Nev­er Die: Hunter S. Thomp­son in Rare 1988 Doc­u­men­tary (NSFW)

Hunter S. Thompson’s Har­row­ing, Chem­i­cal-Filled Dai­ly Rou­tine

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, Asia, film, lit­er­a­ture, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on his brand new Face­book page.

Discover Cy Endfield’s “Microwriter,” The World’s First Portable Word Processor (Circa 1980)

The hall­mark of an endur­ing inven­tion is the dif­fi­cul­ty oth­ers encounter when attempt­ing to improve on its orig­i­nal design. The QWERTY key­board is a prime exam­ple: since the emer­gence of the Rem­ing­ton No. 1 type­writer in 1874, the key­board has con­fi­dent­ly with­stood any sig­nif­i­cant chal­lenges. That’s not to say that curi­ous alter­na­tives haven’t occa­sion­al­ly come along. Indeed, sev­er­al weeks ago we wrote about the Malling-Hansen Writ­ing Ball, the late 19th cen­tu­ry type­writer Friedrich Niet­zsche used while trav­el­ling. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, the writ­ing ball proved too frag­ile and expen­sive to man­u­fac­ture, and today sur­vives sole­ly as a rel­ic.

The most unusu­al recent attempt to rein­vent the key­board was devised by Cy End­field in the ear­ly 1980s. End­field was a Hol­ly­wood direc­tor of some suc­cess pri­or to being declared a Com­mu­nist by Joseph McCarthy’s House Un-Amer­i­can Activ­i­ties Com­mis­sion and black­list­ed in 1951. An alto­geth­er enter­pris­ing fel­low, End­field kept his chin up and his upper lip stiff, opt­ing to head to Eng­land where he worked on films (e.g., Zulu, 1964), wrote a book, and per­formed card tricks with remark­able skill. He also cre­at­ed a six-but­ton word proces­sor he called the Microwriter.

Microwriter

In a 1984 inter­view with NPR, End­field recount­ed want­i­ng to reduce the num­ber of keys used when typ­ing. Instead of push­ing a key and obtain­ing the cor­re­spond­ing let­ter (a 1‑to‑1 ratio), he want­ed to use a hand­ful of keys to yield the whole of the alpha­bet. He decid­ed that chords were the answer:

“It occurred to me that… it would be pos­si­ble to com­bine a set of sig­nals from sep­a­rate keys, and there­fore you could reduce the total num­ber of keys. But, of course, this involved the learn­ing of chords… dif­fi­cult to mem­o­rize… But how do you make these chords mem­o­rable? And, one day, star­ing at a sheet of paper on which I was draw­ing a set of five keys in sort of the arch formed by the fin­ger ends, it occurred to me, ah! if I press the thumb key, and the index fin­ger key, any­body can do this just lis­ten­ing now, press your thumb key and your index fin­ger down and you’ll see that a ver­ti­cal line joins those two fin­ger ends, a short ver­ti­cal line. There is an equiv­a­lence between that short ver­ti­cal line and one let­ter of the alpha­bet. It’s the let­ter “I.”

The above video pro­vides a much sim­pler and more con­cise expla­na­tion.

Equipped with 16 kb of RAM and a sin­gle line LED dis­play, the Microwriter allowed users to quick­ly type notes on the go and trans­fer the results to their com­put­ers through the ser­i­al port. Five of the but­tons cor­re­spond­ed to the var­i­ous chord-keys, and the low­er thumb but­ton allowed users to cycle through var­i­ous input modes.

While it was pos­si­ble to achieve a quick pace with the device when typ­ing tex­tu­al rather than numer­ic input, users of the device remem­ber need­ing sev­er­al days of train­ing to remem­ber the var­i­ous key com­bi­na­tions and to begin using the device with some pro­fi­cien­cy. Need­less to say, in spite of End­field­’s claims of being the world’s first portable word proces­sor, the Microwriter sim­ply was­n’t user friend­ly enough to sur­vive. It entered pro­duc­tion in the ear­ly 1980s, and ceased in 1985.

To read or lis­ten to Cy Endfield’s full inter­view, head over to the NPR Archives tum­blr.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mark Twain Wrote the First Book Ever Writ­ten With a Type­writer

The His­to­ry of the Seem­ing­ly Impos­si­ble Chi­nese Type­writer

The Endur­ing Ana­log Under­world of Gramer­cy Type­writer

Dis­cov­er Friedrich Nietzsche’s Curi­ous Type­writer, the “Malling-Hansen Writ­ing Ball”

Com­put­er Sci­ence: Free Online Cours­es

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