21st Century Dodos: A Collection of Endangered Objects (and Other Stuff)
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Brought to you by KeVkRaY
Steve Stack
21st Century Dodos
A Collection of Endangered Objects (and Other Stuff)
Dedication
For Ethan and Martha
who have never heard of most of the things in this book,
the poor, deprived children
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Introduction
At the Cutting Edge of Technology
Audio Cassettes
Mixtapes
VHS
Betamax
Minidiscs
Laserdiscs
Polaroid Cameras
Home Computers
Loading Computer Games from Tape
Printer Paper with Holes
Dial-up Modems
Basic
Compact Discs
Sony Walkman
In the Home
Rotary Dial Telephones
One Phone in the Home
Trimphones
Directory Enquiries
Toothpaste Tubes Made of Metal
Jif
Creamola Foam
Milkshake Straws
Duo Cans
Black and White Television
In the Neighbourhood
White Dog Poo
Whistling
Bob-a-Job Week
Raleigh Chopper
Raleigh Grifter
Roller Skates
Ring Pulls
Cap Guns
Routemaster Buses
Bus Conductors
Playing in the Streets
Election Vans with Loudspeakers
Nuns
Telephone Boxes
Rag and Bone Men
Cars
Slam Door Trains
Milk Bottle Deliveries
Fizzy Pop Deliveries
Christmas Boxes
On the High Street
Petrol Pump Attendants
Green Shield Stamps
High Street Names
Woolworths
Midland Bank
C&A
Our Price
Athena
Television Rental Shops
Fish and Chips Wrapped in Newspaper
Keeping CDs Behind the Counter
Half-day Closing
Record Tokens
At School
Blackboards
Blackboard Rubbers
Antiseptic in the Playground
Calculator Watches
Satchels
Ice Cream Bricks
Corporal Punishment
Bulldog
Schools’ Programmes Countdown Clock
On Television and Radio
Answers on a Postcard
Buzby
Humphrey
Grandstand
World of Sport
Massive Viewing Figures
Closedown
Advertising Slogans
B-sides
Interludes
Green Cross Code Man
Television Stations
The Watershed
Analogue Television
Teletext
In the Cinema
National Anthem
Commissionaires
Usherettes
Newsreels
Smoking Sections
Intermissions
Waiting Ages for American Films to Come out
Local Cinema Adverts
Saturday Morning Cinema
Projectionists
B Movies
In the Newsagent
10p Mix-up Bag
Look-in
Sweet Tobacco
Mandy
Marathon
Opal Fruits
Playhour
Texan Bars
Bunty
Cheeky Weekly
Candy Cigarettes
Nestles
Nougat
Look and Learn
Smarties Tubes
Smash Hits
Spangles
Liquorice Pipes
Maverick Bar
All the Other Stuff
Post Office Tower Restaurant
Telegrams
Carbon Copy Paper
Concorde
Passing Back to the Goalie
Football Rattles
Typewriters
Penfriends
Tennent’s Lager Can Girls
Countries that No Longer Exist
English Counties that No Longer Exist
Telegrams from the Queen
Lighthouse-keepers
Pipe Smoking
Chest Expanders
Handwritten Letters
Football Pools
Spot the Ball
Imperial Measurements
Net Cord Judges
Car Chokes
Two Spaces after a Full Stop
The Word ‘Wireless’
Coins and Notes
The End?
Further Reading
Thanks
About the Author
Other Books by Steve Stack
Copyright
About the Publisher
Introduction
There are many thousands of endangered species on the planet. If you include animals, insects, and plants, then about three different species become extinct every hour of every day. That’s over 26,000 a year. A truly staggering number, I am sure you’ll agree. And every single one of these extinctions is, of course, a tragedy, but, let’s be honest, we haven’t really noticed. When the last Bolivian centipede pops its hundred clogs it will be sad, but will make bugger all difference to our daily lives.
So this book isn’t about them.
Instead, I have investigated the many inanimate objects, the unsung cultural icons of society, which don’t feature on any endangered list, don’t have people raising money on street corners on their behalf, and don’t feature in documentaries narrated by David Attenborough, but are just as likely to become extinct.
Many already have.
And I think they deserve a bit of a sendoff, which is what I intend this book to be. From mixtapes to fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, from half-day closing to white dog poo, from compact discs to Concorde, here are well over 100 (134, to be precise) eulogies to the going, going and the gone.
These objects, things, traditions, household names and, experiences, were all part of our cultural fabric. They made our country, and many of us, what we are today, whether that be for better or for worse. Some of them didn’t quite make it into the 21st century, many still manage to limp onwards, but all of them are likely to vanish in the near future. I will concede, in rare moments of candour, that this is simply the price we have to pay for progress, but I do not accept that we have to just sit back and let it happen, without at least having the decency to say goodbye, and thank you.
I have arranged the book into chapters based on natural habitat – In the Home, At School, On the High Street, etc. – so you can dip into any section, in any order, should you so wish. I have also given each entry a Dodo Rating of between one and five dodos, with five being completely extinct. If you think I have got anything wrong, have made any glaring omissions, or would just like to reminisce with me on the sad demise of the Maverick bar, then feel free to drop me a line. My contact details are at the end of the book.
Let the nostalgia commence …
STEVE STACK
P.S. As a special bonus for those readers who have entered the digital age I have set up a Twitter feed wher
e I will post lots of extra material, videos, pictures and other bits and bobs. Simply follow @DodoFlip on Twitter. Or better still, if you have an iPad and download the Flipboard app then all this additional content can be viewed in an online magazine. Alternatively, use the Twitter hashtag #21stdodos if you’d like to discuss the book with other readers. All three of them.
AT THE CUTTING EDGE OF TECHNOLOGY
Crushed beneath the wheels of progress …
Audio Cassettes
No single entry epitomises the philosophy of this book more than the humble cassette tape. Its fascinating story captures everything that 21st Century Dodos is all about – a new piece of technology rises to become a world leader, installs itself in popular culture, becomes part of everyday life for billions of people …
… but finds itself crushed beneath the wheels of progress, and is now an endangered species.
Despite this, it has left an indelible mark on generations, a legacy that is worth recording (sorry!) here for posterity.
Tape as a recording medium had been around for many years before the compact cassette made its debut in 1962, but it mainly consisted of cumbersome reel-to-reel tapes which were OK for the professionals, but never really took hold in the world of home entertainment.
So, when Dutch company Philips unveiled the compact version, it created a considerable stir. Essentially a reel-to-reel tape shrunk down in size and squeezed into a plastic casing, it was portable, durable, could be played on both sides, and, crucially, was re-recordable. But it wasn’t until Philips agreed to license the format to other manufacturers for no fee that it truly took hold and revolutionised the industry.
In the early days, it was intended purely as a recording device, and cassette players of the era were set up for ease of recording with little emphasis on high-fidelity sound. They were used mainly for dictation, in office and professional work. Sound quality and reproduction were not great, and certainly nowhere near as good as vinyl records, so early attempts to sell pre-recorded music cassettes were not a huge success.
But the companies behind the format kept on tweaking and improving it, and once chromium dioxide tape and Dolby sound reduction were introduced, the music cassette became a viable format to rack alongside LPs and 8-track cartridges in record shops.
The real catalyst to global domination, however, was the invention in the late 1970s of the Sony Walkman. This portable device, not much bigger than a cassette itself, allowed people to listen to music on the move. As a result, during the 1980s, the cassette overtook vinyl to become the most popular music format.
The other major reason for its success was the fact that you could record pretty much anything you wanted onto a blank cassette. Whether it be a mixtape for your girlfriend (more on which later), the best bits of the Top 40 chart show (where the skill was to start and stop recording at just the right point to avoid taping the DJ), a copy of your favourite disco album to listen to while out roller-skating (which appeared to be what everyone in America was doing), or just personal reflections, it was a way to preserve audio that had not been available in the home before. And it was this element that, in my opinion, changed the world.
Take the punk movement, for example. The whole DIY music philosophy was able to thrive because bands could record songs in their garage, duplicate them, knock up dodgy photocopied covers, and distribute to friends, journalists, and, inevitably, John Peel. Peel’s legendary radio show broadcast the debuts of countless bands, the vast majority of which sank without trace, but a select few went on to create music that influenced the generations that followed. And all of these bands, at least during the ’70s and ’80s, got their first play on his show by sending in a demo tape.
Former Communist countries were able to listen to Western music via tapes recorded from the radio or smuggled in from outside (their small size much easier to hide than 12” records). Outlawed political and religious movements used cassettes to spread the word. Audiobooks, already a popular format in their own right, became more freely available, and finally brought the joy of books to many blind children and adults who could not read or get access to Braille editions. Cassette tapes were also the original format for software on early home computers (I’ll bang on about that in a little while).
The in-car cassette player only increased their popularity. Most cars had had radios installed as standard for some time, a few came with 8-track cartridge players, but the tape deck brought pre-recorded music to the daily commute or boring motorway journey (cue opening bars of ‘Born to be Wild’or ‘The Chain’).
They really were everywhere. Huge dumpbins (as they were known in the trade) of blank tapes were on sale in every record shop and electrical store. You could buy many different types, both in terms of recording quality (to be honest, I never really understood the difference, and was never convinced to shell out for a posh ‘metal’ tape – it would have been a bit pointless when all I was doing was taping from the radio and creating mixtapes) and recording length. The most popular formats were C60 (30 minutes each side), C90 (45 minutes each side), and C120 (oh, you get the idea), but there was a myriad of other versions ranging from C15 (for answer phones and Dictaphones) to C240 (which were crap and kept getting chewed up).
You could use them time and time again, and even the pre-recorded ones could be taped over. We have all at one point or another nicked mum’s Acker Bilk Best Of, stuck a bit of Sellotape over the corner (or ‘write-protect tab’, to give it its proper name), just in time to record the best bits of the Top 40.
Despite its success, the format was not without its problems, the most troubling of which, for the music industry at least, was the explosion of piracy. Suddenly, any Tom, Dick, or Harry could make a cheap recording of a record and sell it, or pass it on for free. And piracy did indeed become a big problem, with huge networks of crooks reproducing bestselling albums on tape in bulk, and selling them at market stalls, in pubs, and out of the back of lorries. Many did attempt to make the finished item look legit, but the majority of pirated tapes coming out of the Far East were, to coin a phrase, well dodgy.
While the millionaire record executives did attempt to clamp down on this illegal black market, they also tried to scare the people at home with their staggeringly unsuccessful ‘Home Taping is Killing Music’ campaign, featuring a cassette skull and crossbones. Their point, and they did have one, was that every time you taped a copy of the new Madness album to give to your mate, that was a few quid that didn’t find its way into their bulging pockets or get to the rather more deserving artists themselves.
What the campaign failed to recognise was that the mixtape culture, the idea of creating your own compilation and sharing it with friends, was as powerful a source of recommendation, new music and discovery as any radio station, TV show, or advertising campaign. It is pretty much accepted now that for every pound lost to a pirate tape, at least the same came into the industry from someone who had just discovered Blondie via a compilation made by Dave in Year 5.
There were physical problems with the format as well. Not every cassette player was calibrated to play at the same speed, so you could sometimes find yourself listening to Barry White but it sounding more like the Bee Gees. Their compact size meant they were a lot easier to lose than their 12” vinyl counterpart. They were also completely buggered if you stepped on them.
The most common issue was that they would quite frequently get chewed up. A worrying warble in the vocals would warn you that it was coming, and then the music could come to a complete stop. You’d open up the cassette deck to discover anything from a few inches to several feet of dark brown tape being spewed out. If you were lucky and the whole thing wasn’t mangled beyond salvation, you could remedy matters by inserting a pencil into one of the reels and manually rewinding it by hand, either by patiently twisting or, my preferred method, by spinning it around like a football rattle.
The advent of the compact disc spelled the demise of the compact cassette. Although they valiantly hel
d their own for most of the 1990s, helped by the sheer proliferation of players, car stereos and the fact that lots of people hadn’t got round to buying CD players yet, most record companies had ceased production by the beginning of the new millennium due to lack of demand.
Sales of blank tapes limped on. By 1988, over 3 billion blank cassettes had been sold in the UK, at a peak of 50 million a year. By 2007, this had slipped to 5 million, and numbers were plummeting fast.
However, there might be some light at the end of the tunnel. TDK, one of the leading manufacturers of blank tapes, reports sales slowly beginning to rise. No one is quite sure why, but theories include the fact that people are still buying them for cars or at home, the police still have to use tape for any suspect interviews and, in a bizarre twist, new bands are often distributing their music by cassette as the format is now so difficult to pirate in our digital age.
So, while the heyday of the cassette is definitely behind us, it seems that a small number may survive for a while yet.
Dodo Rating:
Mixtapes
Creating the perfect mixtape took hours of planning.
First, you’d have to decide what sort of theme you were going for. Just a collection of favourite songs to play in the car was fine, but there were many more speciality areas, of which these are just a few:
Potential New Girlfriend/Boyfriend Mix. Possibly the most important of all mixtapes, a group of songs intended, often through subliminal messages, to persuade a potential partner what a splendid catch you were – witty, well-rounded, thoughtful, and with great taste in music. Song choice would almost always be a blend of your all-time faves (if they don’t like ‘This Must Be the Place’, then they clearly aren’t the one for me) and songs that sort of hinted at the fact that you wanted to get into their pants. You needed to be subtle, but not too subtle. The recipient was to be left in little doubt that you were up for it, but the content would be ambiguous enough that you could deny all if they proved to be less than keen. Countless romances were started in this way. Millions of children walk the earth today because dad chose to place ‘Friday I’m in Love’ by The Cure next to ‘The You and Me Song’ by The Wannadies. Or something like that.
Party Tape. For lazy DJs everywhere. A couple of well-sequenced C90s could ensure even the dullest party had a bit of a buzz about it, and leave the host plenty of time to wander round with canapés instead of mixin’ and scratchin’ at the turntables. This mix would be filled with plenty of uptempo tracks to dance to, a handful of singalong classics, and the obligatory run of three slow songs, timed to come on towards the end of the evening when there was plenty of snogging to be done.