The Dead Media Notebook

by Bruce Sterling

  All around the house, they were whispering: “Oh, how lovely! How beautiful!” and the orchestra let himself out again: “Oh, a life on the ocean wave, And a home on the rolling deep!”

  There was a good deal of honest snickering turned on this time, and considerable groaning, and one or two old deacons got up and went out. The showman gritted his teeth and cursed the piano man to himself, but the fellow sat there like a knot on a log, and seemed to think he was doing first-rate. After things got quiet, the showman thought he would make one more stagger at it, anyhow, though his confidence was beginning to get mighty shaky. The supes started the panorama to grinding along again, and he says: “Ladies and gentlemen, this exquisite painting illustrates the raising of Lazarus from the dead by our Savior. The subject has been handled with rare ability by the artist, and such touching sweetness and tenderness of expression has he thrown into it, that I have known peculiarly sensitive persons to be even affected to tears by looking at it.

  Observe the half-confused, half- inquiring look, upon the countenance of the awakening Lazarus. Observe, also, the attitude and expression of the Savior, who takes him gently by the sleeve of his shroud with one hand, while he points with the other toward the distant city.” Before anybody could get off an opinion in the case, the innocent old ass at the piano struck up: “Come rise up, William Ri-i-ley, And go along with me!” It was rough on the audience, you bet you.

  All the solemn old flats got up in a huff to go, and everybody else laughed till the windows rattled. The showman went down and grabbed the orchestra, and shook him up, and says: “That lets you out, you know, you chowder-headed old clam! Go to the doorkeeper and get your money, and cut your stick - vamose the ranch!”

  Source: Mark Twain, Collected Tales, Sketches, Speeches, & Essays 1852-1890, The Library of America, 1992 ISBN 0-940450-36-4

  the Edison Electric Pen, pneumatic pen, magnetic pen, and foot-powered pen

  From Bruce Sterling

  “Edison’s electric pen was used almost universally in business and professional offices during the late ‘70’s [1870s] and early ‘80’s. He invented it while still in Newark before moving to Menlo Park, and perfected it at the latter place.

  “In operating the electric pen, I got my current from a Bunsen battery consisting of two glass jars, capped at the top and controlled by a plunger with which I lowered the plates into the acid solution or drew them up when the pen was not in use. Thus the life of the battery was prolonged.

  “The pen had a needlelike point which darted in and out of the writing end so rapidly that the eye could hardly detect it. This was operated by a miniature electric motor small enough to be attached to the upper end of the pen. The shaft containing the needle was given its motion by cams on the rotating engine shaft so that when the current was turned on, and I wrote with the pen, holding it in a vertical position, it made innumerable tiny punctures on the sheet of paper, tracing the words that comprised the letter.

  “After the master copy of the stencil had thus been made, I took it to the ‘press,’ where it had to be spanned in a frame before the copies could be made. A plain sheet of paper was placed on the press, the stencil was laid on top and an ink roller passed over it. The impression of the handwriting was marked on the under sheet by the ink through the holes made by the needle. It was said that 5,000 copies could be made from a single stencil.

  “Its widespread use is indicated by the fact that, within three years after Edison brought it out, it could be found in the government offices in Washington, D.C., in city and state offices, and in such far-away lands as Australia, New Zealand, China, Brazil, Russia, and elsewhere.”

  “Edison worked out the principles of the pen while at Newark and took its manufacture with him to Menlo Park. Shortly after I went to to work for him I noticed one day a large frame building not far from the Edison homestead. It stood across the railroad tracks on the way to Newark, and looked considerably dilapidated. Some one told me that this was the building in which the electric pen had been manufactured. It became a roosting place for tramps along the railroad, but, eventually, I was to see the same building rebuilt and restored to use as the first commercial factory for making the Edison incandescent light.

  “To operate his electric pen, Edison used a small electric motor of the impulse type which drew its current from a wet battery of two cells. This was the first electric motor in history to be manufactured commercially and sold in large quantities, and for that reason the device has a peculiar interest to us today.” [Could this assertion be true? Amazing, if so—bruces]

  “The first patent covering it was applied for on March 7, 1876, and was granted August 8 of the same year, after he had settled in Menlo Park. It was Patent No. 180,857. Before that time, however, he had brought out an ‘autographic press,’ and what at first was called a ‘magnetic pen.’. “Edison improved this during 1877, bringing out a ‘stencil pen,’ a pneumatic stencil pen, and a perforating pen. The latter (Patent No. 203,329) was operated by the foot or other convenient power instead of by electric current; the power was conveyed to the pen by a shaft with universal joints. The pneumatic pen (Patent No. 205,370) could be worked by air, gas, or water.”

  Source MENLO PARK REMINISCENCES. Volume One by Francis Jehl, Dover Publications Inc 1990, originally published by the Edison Institute, 1937 ISBN 0-486-26357-6 page 9

  the Edison Electric Pen, Reed pen, and Music Ruling Pen

  From Bruce Sterling

  “Many advertisements dealing with the pen or some form of it were published in magazines and journals of the time. One told of the ‘Woodbury Holder,’ designed to keep the electric pen automatically in a vertical position, thus relieving the operator of that necessity. It was, as I well knew, hard on the fingers to keep the pen upright while writing with it.

  “The Woodbury holder could be attached to any pen and was much liked ‘by those who are not expert with it, as it enables anyone to write in their natural handwriting without practice.’ Its price was five dollars. [Illustration: “In this picture the electric pen rests in its holder, which formed part of the outfit and held the pen when it was not in use. The holder was of metal painted black and made an attractive desk ornament.”]

  “Another device was the so-called ‘Reed Pen,’ an extremely rapid form of the electric pen devised by Mr. Edison for fast, skillful penmen. Its speed was so great that it sometimes cut the center out of round letters. Then there was the ‘Music Ruling Pen,’ an electric pen having five needles for the purpose of ruling music. The stencil paper had to be placed on thick, firm cloth or the edges of paper when this particular form of pen was used. Two batteries instead of one were required to supply the current.

  “After the Western Electric Company acquired the selling rights to the pen, it made quite a business of it. In one of its catalogs there was a full page showing parts prices for the pen from a bottle of ink to the complete unit, which cost twenty-five dollars.

  “Bought separately, a pen cost eight dollars, a wet battery was five dollars and twenty-five cents, a press ranged from eight to seventeen dollars, and a roller from two dollars and twenty-five cents to three dollars and twenty-five cents.

  “Perhaps you would be interested in the directions given for preparing a wet battery. [Why yes! We would! Consider that at this point Thomas Edison has not yet invented the electric light. Without this killer application for electric power, there is no electrical power grid anywhere in the world. Every Edison Electric Pen requires its own, individual power source, a desktop chemical power generator, the “wet battery.” It’s a fiendish and troublesome device containing zinc, carbon, sulfuric acid and mercury.]

  “’Place the porous clay cups or cells in the glass jars, one with the flat side turned from you and the other toward you. Then attach the zincs and carbons to the rubber discs so that one zinc and one carbon will be secured to the brass posts, and one of each to the iron screws. The brass posts always rest on the rubber discs, the
iron screw on the little brass strap.

  “’Fill the porous cups to within three-quarters of an inch from the top with red fluid. “’Fill the glass jars to within three-quarters of an inch of the top of the porous cups with water, into which a tablespoonful of common sulphuric acid is then poured. Move the porous cups backward and forward in the glass jar a few times to thoroughly mix the acid and water together. If this is not done the acid, which is much heavier than the water, settles to the bottom and does not mix.

  “Slip the battery plates secured to the rubber discs on the upright rod in such a manner that the black plates of carbon shall go into the porous cells, and the zincs into the water.

  “’It will be noticed that the zinc and carbon plates on one disc are reversed on the other, hence the necessity of placing the porous cells on opposite sides of the glass jars.

  “’The collar to which the two discs are secured is provided with a screw sliding up and down in the long groove in the rod, which prevents the collar from turning around, and with a catch which drops into a notch on the opposite side when the discs are lifted high enough, and holds the plates out of the liquids. If they are allowed to remain down when the pen is not in use, the sulphuric acid and water would soon eat the zincs away. To prevent this, they should always be lifted out after using.

  “After considerable use the mercury with which the zincs are amalgamated becomes eaten off, and the action of the acid upon the pure zinc is more intense, causing what is termed ‘boiling.’ This can be obviated by removing the zincs from the discs, washing off all superfluous matter, and allowing them to remain in the acid and water a few moments; then remove and add a few drops of quicksilver to them, making them good as new. By this precaution, zincs will last a long time. [Unlike the operator, who will soon the suffering the tremors of “hatter’s madness” if he inhales enough of those mercury fumes.] “’The battery fluid should last from one to two weeks, according to the amount of work it has to perform. When it is in daily use, for an hour or so at a time, it is recommended that it be changed once a week. Operators will have to be guided by experience.’”

  Source: MENLO PARK REMINISCENCES. Volume One by Francis Jehl, Dover Publications Inc 1990, originally published by the Edison Institute, 1937 ISBN 0-486-26357-6 page 9

  the Edison Electric Pen

  From Bruce Sterling

  “With the coming of the typewriter and the subsequent use of that machine in preparing stencils, the electric pen passed from use. At one time, however, more than 60,000 were in offices, and its use had spread outside the United States. It could be found in many government offices in Washington, D.C., as well as the majority of large industries such as railroads.

  “The electric pen was not confined to circular letters and the like, but could be found in restaurants where it was used for making up the bill of fare. I well remember buying a book on ‘How to Learn to Telegraph,’ containing many different diagrams of sounders, relays, and switches, which were all printed by the Edison Electric Pen process.

  “Then there was a comic sheet, which was circulated by some sort of telegraphic fraternity. [Note: this “comic sheet” may be the earliest known “net fanzine,” telegraphic net-gossip reproduced in hard copy with an Edison Electric Pen.] It was also prepared with the Edison pen, and you would be surprised at the artistic designs which could be produced by this little device.

  “Among the treasures in the Edison collection at Dearborn [Michigan, USA] is a scrapbook. The book contains pictures, calling cards, letterheads, invoice forms, menus, and many other examples of work actually done with the electric pen back in 1875.”

  Source: MENLO PARK REMINISCENCES. Volume One by Francis Jehl, Dover Publications Inc 1990, originally published by the Edison Institute, 1937 ISBN 0-486-26357-6 page 9

  New Guinea Talking Drum

  From Bill Crawford

  This describes the talking drum in the village of Peri on the south coast of the Great Admiralty Island in Papua New Guinea.

  “The drum language the children understand but make no attempt to execute. This language consists of formal phrase beginnings which mean ‘Come home =’ or “I am now going to announce how many days it will be before I do something,’ etc. The first one will be followed by the individual combination of beats which is the call of a particular household for any of its members.

  “The second is followed by slow beats, interspersed with a formal spacing beat. Every one in the village stops work or play to count these beats, but only a knowledge of who is beating the drum and what he is planning to do in the near future make it possible to interpret the announcement.

  “The children stop their play to hear which house call follows the formal introduction, and go back to their games if it is not their own. They seldom bother to further identify the call. If a date is announced they mechanically count the days and may stop to guess who is beating the drum. There their interest ceases. One ceremony is too like another to matter.

  “But there are three drum calls which do interest them, the beats announcing that some one is about to die, that some one is dead, and the drum beat which means ‘Trouble,’ = theft, or adultery. For these they will pause in their play and possibly send a small boy to inquire into the cause.

  The drum beat for death is so simple that children can make it and are sometimes permitted to do so in the event of the death of an unimportant person.”

  Source: Margaret Mead, Growing Up in New Guinea, William Morrow; New York, 1930. p. 43 ff.

  Cat Piano and Tiger Organ Cat Piano

  From Richard Kadrey

  Cat Piano: “What should we say about the cat piano? The idea that such an instrument could have existed gives a lot to think about, even if it was built on an experimental basis: a piano where strings are replaced by cats, each of them giving a different note.

  “It seems that Father Kirchner, a German Jesuit of the XVIIth century with an interest in musical things, gave the first description of this weird and cruel instrument.

  “’Not long ago,’ says he, ‘an actor, as ingenious as illustrious, built such an instrument to cure the melancholy of a great Prince. He gathered cats of differing size and therefore in the pitch of their voices. He enclosed them in a basket specially built for this purpose, so their tails, coming out through holes, were held in tubes. He added keys with thin needles instead of hammers, and installed the cats according to their voices in such a way that each key would correspond to the tail of an animal, and he put the instrument in a suitable place for the pleasure of the Prince. Then he played it, producing chords corresponding to the mewings of the animals. Indeed the keys pressed by the fingers of the musician, by trotting the tails of the cats, would enrage the poor animals and make them scream with a high or low pitch, producing a melody that would make people laugh or even incite mice to dance.’” .

  “Johann-Christian Reil, renowned neuro-anatomist from Germany, mentions the cat piano (Katzenklavier) in a list of therapies for mental illness, published in 1802. He even specified that the patient has to sit ‘in such a way that he does not lose sight of the physiognomy and the mimicry of the animals.’

  Man-Tiger-Organ

  “Of all the noise instruments in history, one of the least equivocal in its intent is Tipu’s Tiger. Captured in India by the British army after the defeat and death by bullet and bayonet of Tipu Sultan in 1799, this large and amazing object is now housed in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

  “The most succinct and evocative description was written by an employee of the East India Company: “’This piece of Mechanism represents a Royal Tyger in the act of devouring a prostrate European. There are some barrels in imitation of an Organ, within the body of the Tyger, and a row of Keys of natural Notes. The sounds produced by the Organ are intended to resemble the Cries of a person in distress intermixed with the roar of a Tyger. The machinery is so contrived that while the Organ is playing, the hand of the European is often lif
ted up, to express his helpless and deplorable condition.’

  “John Keats saw Tipu’s Tiger in the East India Company’s offices and later referred to it in a satire he wrote on the Prince Regent: ‘that little buzzing noise, Whate’er your palmistry may make of it, Comes from a play- thing of the Emperor’s choice, From a Man-Tiger-Organ, prettiest of his toys.’

  “And when the tiger was first exhibited in the newly- opened Victoria and Albert Museum, the public cranked the handle to make it roar with such sadistic, joyful frequency that students in the adjacent library were driven half-mad by the distraction.

  “In a technical analysis of the instrument, Henry Willis speculated that ‘the intended method of use for the keyboard organ was to run the knuckles up and down the scale to produce the effects of a screaming man being killed by a tiger.’ Because the design and materials suggest a European rather than an Indian maker, Willis suggested that the tiger and its victim were constructed by either a malicious Frenchman or a renegade Englishman.

  “But whoever made this wonderfully macabre sculpture, Tipu certainly enjoyed it. He was obsessed with tigers, for one thing; for another, as a Muslim whose wealth and land had been plundered by the colonialists, he hated the British. Reportedly, he used to circumcise them when he took prisoners. His walls were decorated with scenes depicting soldiers being dismembered, crushed by elephants, eaten by tigers and other fates too obscene for the British major who saw them to form a verbal description.