I have been using computers for over 35 years. This is quite a statement and one that makes me appreciate all the bad ergonomic decisions I’ve made along the way. In fact, it was a diagnosis of tendinitis in my elbow and subsequent introductory questions from a doctor that made me even realize that my relationship with computers had been going on so long.

“Do you use a computer for work?” Yes.

“How long have you been using a computer?” Uhhh, years? Decades? A long, long time.

And I didn’t really have an exact answer. Which got me thinking, because it seems like something one should know about oneself. I’m in the first generation when it comes to personal computers (which may lead to another longer post topic).

The ITT Xtra is the first one I ever really explored. My parents bought it one Christmas and I can still remember first seeing it set up on the kitchen table. No box, no wrapping paper, just sitting there like an alien. Now, to be fair, I had been using computers for some years before this — they were starting to show up at friend’s houses and my middle school had purchased a bunch of TRS-80s to stick in a science class.

But there’s a difference between “using” and “exploring”. It wasn’t until this showed up in my house that I was able to spend unlimited hours learning what it could (and couldn’t) do and by extension, what I could (and couldn’t) do with it. My siblings were too young to care much about it and my parents were too busy to learn it, so I became the default user for the house.

“Give ITT a round of applause for including clear, profusely illustrated documentation with the Xtra. This little extra touch is worth it’s weight in gold.”

— Creative Computing, 1985

Not an actual photo of my Xtra, but those manuals were fantastic!

It was that “profusely illustrated documentation,” as seen in the photo above, that gave me any chance of understanding how the computer worked. Beyond using the word processing program to write all my school papers, it was here that I began to make the early connection between code and art. The idea that you could program the computer to make art. This was an astonishingly profound revelation — that graphics on screen were directly tied to code — basically text. It wasn’t long, and it was probably the first thing I wanted to do with the computer, before I was writing screen graphics in BASIC.

Seeing the light

One of the coolest features was, of course, the amber monochrome monitor. While I may have had some initial trepidation because I had never heard of the ITT brand before, I was immediately won over when I learned that amber monochrome monitors were easier on the eyes than the traditional green monochrome monitors that everyone else had. Remember, I was a teenager with all the misguided fears, self-doubt and imagined peer pressure that accompanies those years, so having something — anything — uniquely cool was a big deal. Even if the claims about amber monitors weren’t necessarily true.

“An amber screen was claimed to give improved ergonomics, specifically by reducing eye strain; this claim appears to have little scientific basis.^[3] However, the color amber is a softer light, and would be less disruptive to a user’s circadian rhythm.”

— Wikipedia

So where does all this nostalgia lead us?

It’s led me to create a new page on the site using the style of my old original amber monochrome monitor. It’s a flashback to what it was like for me to work on that first ITT Xtra computer — amber, bitmap fonts on a black background. To that end, I’ve been toying with the idea of including a client archive page on the site. These two ideas were perfect for each other — a long list of text in a table with a retro design style.

The design itself is by it’s very nature, basic. I started by finding the perfect shade of amber, not necessarily in terms of accuracy, but more on an emotional basis dredged up from some sort of color memory library. Next up, was choosing the perfect bitmap font and I do love a good bitmap font. In this case, historical accuracy won over nostalgia as I was able to find the exact font files used on the ITT Xtra. From there, it was more of a matter of web development to bridge the gap between the old and new.

Now of course, it’s not an exact replica to the original, mostly due to the underlying technologies involved. The two big differences being the monitor construction and the text rendering engines in modern computers. Those old monochrome monitors made for much crisper text. So the way your laptop screen is built makes the text a little blurry (on the plus side, it has more than one color). The second difference is how your computer renders the text itself — usually via anti-aliasing or subpixel rendering. While I can’t overcome modern displays, I have included some CSS to help recreate that old text rendering.

Along the same lines, I’ve also chosen to use another old technique for the page — loading the client list data via XML and a deprecated Javascript library from Adobe called Spry. Now, admittedly, this has nothing to do with my old ITT Xtra, but it was a fun bit of nostalgia to use again. Old school web designers will fondly remember (or not) that thirteen years ago, loading data into a web page (without a database!) was super cool. At some point, I may swap this out for actual on page data which would be better for performance, accessibility and longevity.

In the meantime though, and without further ado, venture back in time to experience the dawn of personal computing.

Goodbye Gowanus
Goodbye to the Dutch who settled on these marshy shores.

Goodbye to the soldiers in the parking lot grave where they rest so that a rebellion could live to fight another day.

Goodbye to the stevedores who worked the docks walking back to their families each night with pilfered goods under their arms.

Goodbye to the social clubs from unnamed parts of an old world with your linoleum floors, folding chairs and cable TV.

Goodbye to the front yard statue shrines to Jesus, Mary and countless long forgotten saints.

Goodbye to the 9/11 memorial mural with the twin towers and giant eagle head partially blocked from view by the fence to keep people out.

Goodbye to the Court Street bridge with it’s wooden planks and sewage discharge signs.

Goodbye to the refineries and the scrap metal yard.

Goodbye to the barges and the tugboats slowly maneuvering up and down the canal.

Goodbye black mayonnaise. May you one day find a new home.

Goodbye to the street fairs where the paternity testing booth is conveniently located next to the kids bouncy castle.

Goodbye to the Catholic parades with the body of their savior carried aloft in a glass coffin. Dressed in all black as a somber band plays its dirge, the women hold wooden boxes to collect from the faithful while shop owners pass envelopes of cash to the old men.

Goodbye to the grinding truck with it’s school bell clanging randomly to lure out customers.

Goodbye to the delivery boys riding electric bikes the wrong way down the sidewalks of one way streets. I hope our tips helped feed your families back in those foreign lands.

Goodbye to the city trash dump. Although, you weren’t in our backyard, we know we’re the reason you exist.

Goodbye to the BQE and traffic helicopter alarm clocks breaking the early morning quiet. A border line, segmenting, defining and humming with rusty good intentions proven wrong.

Goodbye to the artists. Goodbye to your studios where you said goodbye to your apartment in favor of that third job.

Goodbye to the newly planted trees which caused the old timers to complain.

Goodbye to Smith street where even the gentrifiers are themselves gentrified.

Goodbye to the strollers clogging sidewalks in parade formation outside impeccably designed artisanal brunch locations.

Goodbye to the one bedroom, $1.5 million dollar condos that used to be brownstones. Goodbye to the family homes that they once were.

Goodbye to the French who move here because it reminds them of Paris but then complain because the United States is not socialist.

Goodbye to the protesters who tried for years to keep the corporate beast at bay and now shop there every Sunday wallowing amongst the windmills and organic garden.

Goodbye to the Brooklyn Battery and your unknown park outpost of willow trees and skateboard ramp.

Goodbye to the maritime factories that are now dustless showrooms of unaffordable luxuries.

Goodbye to the master distillers and cheese mongers holed up in your unnamed warehouses toiling at your trade.

Goodbye to Redhook. The subway will someday find you. Do not be jealous of your neighbor’s wealth for you still have a true heart.

Goodbye to the Redhook Raiders where your original home is a museum and your new home is just a building.

Goodbye to the Redhook terminal with its feral cat refuge and giant nativity scene. Another place where machines and automation have replaced strong men.

Goodbye Columbia Street, both protected and abandoned by the BQE.

Goodbye to the neighborhood gardens reclaimed from trash filled empty lots.

Goodbye to the F train although I think we’ll see each other again.

Goodbye Gowanus.

Beyond the amazing first hand accounts of the immigrants who passed through Ellis Island as they entered America, the prints and posters from the era are a treasure trove of wonderful design and typography. Here’s a sampling (although the photos don’t do them justice).

Fantastic typography detail from a Southern Pacific rail map. Note how it was important to include “correct” in the title.

Detail of the typography from a rail poster advertising land.

Poster advertising land in Minnesota. Note the wide variety of typefaces used — not uncommon for the time period. Serifs, sans-serifs, stylized display faces, heavily condensed faces and even extra wide faces at the bottom. Also note the odd kerning in the phrase, “The Great Land Grant”. It might just be the typeface itself as the “GR” letter combo looks weird.

Another land grant poster — this time in French. The design of the top half really struck me as innovative and unique. The typography also takes a different track than many of the others using a thin slab serif face liberally and more classic serifs throughout. Note the poor kerning between the “A” and “V” in the word “travers”. It also looks like the poster was run once and then either stamped or re-printed with the agent’s name and info — the type block on the right is misaligned.

This is the logo from my grandfather’s hard hat. It has to be at least 50 years old (the hat at least, a quick search for the company yielded no results). He wasn’t a construction worker by trade, but did surveying for the Ohio turnpike as a summer job when he wasn’t teaching.

I love the typeface for the “hardtop” text. A nice slab serif — a little wide, a little thin, not too bold, but with enough presence. And that “R” is perfection. If I can find some time, I’ll have to re-create the font from this photo.