`Mavis is the best we’ve seen.”The New York Times,
`
`
`
`Table Of Contents
`
`1. About Mavis Beacon ................................... 2
`(Introducing the many features of the
`program.)
`2. A History of T ypew riting........................... 5
`(Probably much more than you ever wanted to
`know about the fascinating people and machin
`ery th at pioneered the amazing hardware and
`software you’ll now be using. Read it. It’s fun!)
`3. Typing F u n d am en tals................................. 21
`(A few pointers before you begin your work
`with Mavis.)
`4. Keyboard B a s ic s ........................................... 24
`(A quick look at the keyboard. If you already
`know a little about typing, you may want to
`skip this section.)
`5. Typing Business L etters.............................. 26
`(Some uses of the skills you’ll learn with Mavis.)
`6. The Resume W riter....................................... 34
`(Here’s help in marketing your abilities.)
`7. The Theory Behind M a v is......................... 37
`(Our programmers are bursting with righteous
`pride over Mavis. They asked to tell you why.
`So here, in their own words, is how Mavis
`“thinks.”)
`8. The Speed-Typing A ltern ative.................. 40
`(The story behind the only successful alterna
`tive to the standard “QWERTY” keyboard, and
`perhaps the way of the future.)
`9. For P ractice..................................................... 44
`(Some “real world” practice texts—part of your
`curriculum with Mavis.)
`10. ly p in g E rro rs................................................. 56
`(An explanation of nineteen specific error
`categories used by Mavis Beacon to analyze
`your typing progress.)
`11. B ibliography................................................... 59
`
`
`
`) 1987 The Softw are Toolworks A ll rig h ts reserv ed
`
`P rin te d in U.S.A.
`
`
`
`JL here came a moment
`when I realized that I was typing
`—without thinking that I was
`typing! From that instant on, my
`creativity soared like a condor,
`unchained from the burden
`of scratching, parrot-like, upon
`my papers.
`
`Pablo Crane
`
`1
`
`
`
`About
`Mavis
`Beacon
`
`earning to type with “Mavis Beacon
`Teaches Typing” is like having the world’s most at
`tentive and patient typing teacher constantly at
`your side. She’ll be with you every step of the way,
`helping you through any difficulties you may have,
`as well as rewarding your many triumphs. She’ll
`guide you carefully through every step of your
`learning process, creating lessons and drills
`tailored specifically to your individual needs.
`Like any good teacher, Mavis understands that
`you don’t learn best in the same classroom day
`after day. So, she has four learning centers in
`which you’ll work. As you go through the program,
`you’ll become familiar with them all. But for now,
`let’s take a brief look at each one:
`
`2
`
`The Chalkboard
`Before each lesson, Mavis details her teaching plan
`for you on the big chalkboard at the front of the
`classroom.
`Each lesson you work on with Mavis addresses a
`particular typing problem (such as poor speed or
`dropped characters). You will see the problem
`Mavis has chosen to work on at the top of the
`chalkboard. Underneath that, Mavis writes her
`“remedy”: the method that she has selected to help
`you improve. A longer explanation of her recom
`mendation appears in the middle of the chalkboard
`(unless you have asked Mavis to provide only terse
`explanations of her remedies). Finally, each lesson
`focuses on different kinds of text to keep things in
`teresting; you may find yourself reading the story
`of Daphne’s camel, chuckling over a joke or riddle,
`or working with words containing your “problem”
`characters.
`Whenever the chalkboard appears with a sugges
`tion from Mavis, you always have the choice of
`accepting her sage advice, or choosing an alter
`native. You may ask for another suggestion, create
`your own lesson plan, or spend some time simply
`typing on your own without Mavis looking over
`your shoulder.
`If you accept Mavis’ suggestion, you will find
`yourself in the Classroom, the Workshop, or at the
`Arcade. These are the places where you actually
`practice your typing under Mavis’ watchful eye.
`
`
`
`Th« blggsst gum-bubbla euar blown
`M S 22 l n c h a a by Mrs. B . Will lams
`of Frasno, CA.
`
`of World Records
`
`The Classroom
`The first time you work with Mavis you will be in
`the “classroom.” You’ll notice that it looks like the
`computer on which you are typing, complete with
`monitor and keyboard. When you begin a lesson
`on our IBM, A tari ST, Apple IIGS, Amiga and
`Macintosh versions, you’ll see a pair of “guide”
`hands poised above the keyboard, ready to type. As
`you begin to type, so will the “guide” hands. These
`are your instructors for correct hand placement and
`finger reach. Don’t look down at your hands as you
`go; look up at the screen. It may seem difficult at
`first, but by keeping your eyes forward and watch
`ing the screen, you’ll quickly learn how to type
`each key perfectly.
`On our Commodore 64, A tari 8-bit and Apple II
`versions, you must select the “Keys and Fingers”
`option* in order to let the “guide” hands teach you
`proper fingering and hand position. You may select
`this feature for help on a single key or a “tour” of
`the entire keyboard.
`As you type a lesson, the keys you press will also
`guide you to correct technique. Each key you strike
`will depress a little or the keytop will light up.
`Remember, try to look at the monitor as you go, not
`down at your hands! Let the on-screen keys help
`you increase your speed and accuracy.
`
`The Workshop
`The “workshop” is another area in which you and
`Mavis will work. Again, you’ll see the “guide”
`hands on the 16-bit versions and the “Lights and
`Keytops On” in our 8-bit versions, waiting to type
`with you. You will also see a clock, metronome and
`three meters alongside your screen. These features
`are other ways Mavis will help you increase your
`typing speed and accuracy.
`You can time your lesson with the clock or
`choose to work without it. The metronome is there
`to help you type in rhythm. Or, type to the beat of
`a ragtime classic!
`Studies have shown that use of a steady beat
`helps new typists increase their typing speed. Many
`of us, when first learning to type, tend to pause
`before more difficult finger reaches, causing our
`fingers to falter and stumble. Rhythm helps us
`break through these “typing walls” and work
`faster! You can set the metronome to “tick” in time
`or move silently.
`Three constantly updated meters monitor your
`speed and accuracy and tell you how much of the
`lesson you’ve completed.
`Before each lesson, Mavis will choose the fea
`tures she thinks you should use for that lesson. You
`are, however, always free to manually select the
`ones you prefer.
`*See the instructions for your version of Mavis, included sepa
`rately, for the way to select each option.
`
`3
`
`
`
`r
`
`The Arcade
`Mavis might decide it’s time for a special chal
`lenge, so get ready! You’ll find yourself in the
`cockpit of a High Performance Road Racer, typing
`your way to glory! The graphics here will make you
`feel like you’re at the video arcade.
`You’ll find yourself pitted against “Red Walter”
`who’d like nothing better than to leave you in the
`dust. Je t fighter planes blast your typing drill across
`the sky. Typing well, you leap forward and your op
`ponent fades into your rear view mirror. You make
`mistakes, and “Red Walter” starts to creep up on
`you. Typing like crazy, you pull ahead and... WIN!!!
`
`Progress Charts
`Mavis monitors your growth constantly. At any
`time you can view any one of nineteen graphs.
`They display your up-to-the-second progress in
`every imaginable typing category. As shown here,
`Mavis not only tells you how you’re doing this les
`son, but also how you’ve done since Day One. At
`any moment during any exercise you can stop to
`check your typing skill. Resume the lesson when
`ever you like.
`Help and Features
`W hether you are a beginner or an expert, Mavis
`will always have appropriate advice on hand. She
`is always glad to explain how her program works.
`All you need do is ask. A stroke of the ‘Help Key’
`will provide help based upon precisely where you
`are in the program. Should her first explanation
`not answer your question exactly, you may then
`choose from any item in the complete list of Mavis’
`help topics. And when you’re finished, simply
`return to your lesson!
`You may never need to call on Mavis’ complete
`list of help features, but if you do, they are only a
`keystroke away.
`
`4
`
`
`
`Customized Features
`Like all fine teachers, Mavis will get to know you.
`She will discover your individual needs and con
`cerns. But until she gets to know your work style,
`Mavis will choose the settings and classrooms. You
`can, however, change them to your liking.
`On our 16-bit versions, your “guide” hands can
`be turned off, should you just want to use the let
`tered keytops that light up when you press them.
`Or perhaps you’d really like to challenge yourself
`with no hands and no keytops! This ultim ate test is
`also available on our 8-bit versions. You might find
`that you type better with the metronome or with
`out it. Go ahead and switch. And switch back. Find
`out how you work best.
`We all forget, especially when we’re just learn
`ing. If you forget where a certain key is or which
`finger types it, just call for “Keys and Fingers.” It
`will tell you what key you just hit and what finger
`you should be using. With “Keys and Fingers,” you
`can learn about one key or the entire keyboard,
`then return to your lesson after you’re done.
`Mavis also lets you type on the Dvorak keyboard
`(see Section 8). If you’d like to try this alternative
`keyboard, go ahead. Or if you’d like to learn the
`Dvorak method, simply select th at option. From
`then on, Mavis’ on-screen keyboard, as well as
`yours, will conform to the Dvorak arrangement.
`With Mavis, her powerful graphics, and always
`insightful instruction, you’ve got everything going
`for you. You’ll learn to type fast and accurately in
`less time than you ever dreamed possible. And
`you’ll have fun while you’re doing it!
`
`The History of Typewriting
`Imagine it’s 1828. The lamp wick sputters, and
`flickering images dance on the papers before you.
`Rubbing your cramped hand, you contemplate the
`twelfth letter of the evening. It’s been three hours.
`The pen nib is getting worn, and the ink in the ink
`well is beginning to clot. You continue, because the
`letters must be written. But, oh, what you wouldn’t
`give for someone to do your correspondence for you.
`Or something...
`This was the situation for most everyone at the
`beginning of the nineteenth century. That is, until
`William Austin Burt, an inveterate tinkerer, came
`along. Tired of cramped hands and ink-stained
`pages, he created the first workable typewriter. It
`was a crude, wooden prototype, but it pointed
`toward a revolution in w ritten communications,
`business organization and education.
`Amazingly, William B urt was unaware of the po
`tential held by his latest invention. He was a quiet
`man whose only real love was the sea. To him, the
`writing machine was an interesting novelty, but he
`considered it far less useful than his automatic
`page turner. This boyhood invention was designed
`to let him read the sea stories he loved while mak
`ing the roof shingles his father ordered. In fact,
`Burt might even have tossed his “typographer”
`aside had it not been for the vision of his friend,
`John R Sheldon.
`Sheldon saw dollar signs on every key.
`On May 25,1829, Sheldon, the founder and
`editor of the Michigan Gazette (which later became
`the Detroit Free Press) wrote a letter to President
`Andrew Jackson. Sheldon wrote praising the inven
`tion of young Burt:
`Sir:
`This is a specimen of the printing done by me on
`Mr. Burt’s typographer. You will observe some in
`accuracies in the situation of the letters; these are
`owing to the imperfections of the machine, it hav
`ing been made in the woods of Michigan where no
`proper tools could be obtained by the inventor... I
`am satisfied... that the rough machine (the typog
`rapher), with which I am now printing, will be
`ranked with the most novel, useful and pleasing
`inventions of this age.
`
`5
`
`
`
`B urt’s typographer was a heavy, boxlike contrap
`tion, made almost entirely of wood. Like today’s
`familiar toy typewriter, the typographer had type
`mounted on a metal wheel, a rotating, semicircular
`frame. By turning a crank, Burt was able to move
`the wheel until it came to the letter he wanted.
`Then he would pull a lever, driving the type against
`the paper and making an inked impression.
`
`Replica of Burt’s Typographer
`The print was neat and legible, and with prac
`tice, B urt was able to increase his speed. There was
`only one drawback to all this. No m atter how much
`he practiced, Burt was never able to make his
`machine type any faster than he could write with
`a pen.
`That didn’t stop Sheldon, a natural promoter,
`from seeing great things for the machine. He
`quickly got an exclusive patent for it in B urt’s
`name. Burt, however, wanted nothing more than to
`take care of his personal and political duties. As
`the father of three active boys and a member of the
`Michigan Territorial Legislative Council, he had
`his hands full. Nevertheless, he now also found
`himself with the full and exclusive right “to make
`and vend to others his typographer.” With Sheldon’s
`encouragement, Burt started improving the
`machine for commercial release.
`
`6
`
`After about six months, he was able to unveil a
`new model. It had grown to the size and shape of a
`pinball machine. But the average pinball machine
`earns more in quarters in one day than Burt and
`Sheldon did during their entire venture. The public
`just wasn’t buying. No one understood this crazy-
`looking contraption, much less the benefits of own
`ing one. And, as far as how to operate it, everyone
`was lost. Burt and Sheldon were selling an im
`proved typographer all right, but they didn’t tell
`people how to use it. Or why anyone should learn.
`A torn page of a diary believed to be that of John P.
`Sheldon describes a never-implemented sales pitch:
`“... If we might explain in detail that... by key
`stroking each letter in any particular word, leaving
`space between this and following words... and with
`some hours’ practice of such daily, any person will
`soon enable himself to imprint over 35 words per
`every minute... Such would increase business
`productivity...”
`This is believed to be the first written piece of
`typewriting instruction.
`But selling the machine came first. How to use it
`would come later. W hatever the case, they hit the
`trail hard. They felt sure that someone would rec
`ognize the potential of the typographer, instruc
`tions included or not. In a letter to his wife, Burt
`outlined his plans:
`My Dear Companion —
`This is the first specimen I send you except a
`few lines I printed to regulate the machine... Next
`week I shall put my machine on sale and shall sell
`out the patent as soon as I can and return home.
`Unfortunately, Burt and Sheldon never found a
`buyer for their invention. They simply couldn’t
`interest anyone in buying their patent. Burt
`finally returned home to the quiet life and his
`stories of the sea.
`John Sheldon and William Burt may have failed
`to sell their early typewriter, but the idea certainly
`didn’t die. People still had to grapple with the cum
`bersome, frustrating task of handwriting all corre
`spondence. In 1853, expert penmen set the
`Handwriting Speed Record at only 30 words per
`minute. And most people were hardly expert. With
`the advent of F.B. Morse’s electric telegraph, things
`
`
`
`only got worse. Shorthand stenographers were in
`the same boat. Not only was speed a problem, but
`readability was getting thrown out the window.
`Some form of personal writing machine, w hat
`ever its name or physical make-up, seemed the only
`answer.
`
`ten, rotated and advanced the paper every time the
`typist reached the end of a line. It was a simple, yet
`revolutionary, idea to let the paper move while the
`machine remained stationary.
`While these designs indeed contained elements
`of our modern typing machines, they were, as a
`group, fairly slow and clumsy. None saw its way
`past the experimental stage.
`Except for the invention of the 52nd man to
`attem pt the feat, Christopher Lathan Sholes.
`His nightly tinkering with a duo of inventor-
`friends, Carlos Glidden and S.W. Soule, led to the
`creation of a machine they called the “Type-Writer”
`in 1872. This machine was a workable, if somewhat
`bizarre-looking rendition of what we think of as a
`typewriting machine. It’s interesting, though, that
`the first machine finally produced was one geared
`to slow the typist down.
`
`“Some typewriters were as difficult
`to play as a baby grand.”
`So, it’s no surprise th at the three decades after
`B urt’s typographer were rife with typew riters—or
`at least machines that attempted typewriting.
`Some of these printed by lifting twenty pounds of
`machinery while the paper remained still. Others
`looked more like home perm anent wave machines
`than typewriters. An interesting French example
`contained seventy type bars and was as difficult to
`play as a baby grand. Still other whimsical at
`tempts resembled accordions or kitchen clocks.
`There is one significant example among all these
`attempts. It was a typewriter invented by two
`Englishmen, Alexander Bain and Thomas Wright.
`Bain and Wright put their heads together to solve
`the problem telegraph writers were having tran
`scribing code as fast as it came off the wire.
`W hat remains notable about their achievement
`is not that it solved the problem or worked with
`any noticeable ease, but th at it introduced several
`ideas th at advanced typewriter design. In Bain’s
`and Wright’s machine, a cylindrical roller, or pla-
`
`The First Portable Typewriter, 1891.
`Sholes believed his machine was designed for
`convenience, but it had tremendous trouble with
`the keys jamming if they were hit too closely in suc
`cession. The primitive manufacture simply didn’t
`allow each key hit to return to its mooring in time
`to make way for the next key chosen. Nothing
`Sholes or his friends did could eliminate the prob
`lem. Finally, in desperation, Sholes took a step that
`had a profound effect upon you as a typist. Since he
`couldn’t redesign the machine to work faster,
`
`7
`
`
`
`In fact, no real textbook was even w ritten for
`typewriting technique until 1880. Composed by
`Edward F. Underhill, the Handbook o f Instruction
`for the Type-Writer was a thin 16 pages and opened
`left to right for “easier use at the typewriter.” Few
`people opened it. Like Sholes, the public in general
`didn’t want a set typewriting formula. The freestyle
`“hunt and peck” technique was considered the best
`way for everyone to create his own typing method.
`That didn’t stop the “hunt and peck” style from
`being the brunt of several jokes. Soon it came to be
`known as the “Columbus” or “Discovery” method.
`Sometimes it was even referred to as the “Biblical”
`(“Seek and ye shall find”) approach. And though
`it may sound silly today, this two-finger method
`remained unchallenged for decades.
`But th at didn’t concern Sholes. His tragedy was
`th at he lost every chance he had to capitalize on
`his invention. Shortsightedly, he sold the rights to
`his design to a seedy, bombastic, smooth-talker by
`the name of Jam es Densmore.
`Densmore and his partner, suave, baby-faced
`George Washington Yost, wholeheartedly believed
`in the Type-Writer. Especially when they dreamed
`of the fortune they felt they could make from it.
`They tried to sell everyone, from the United States
`government on down. Finally, Philo Remington,
`president of his family’s gun manufacturing com
`pany, listened. A contract was signed. One thou
`sand Type-Writers were to be manufactured. Yost
`and Densmore were to sell the machines bearing
`the Remington name. Wonderful news for our
`money-hungry duo. Except that the Remington
`Type-Writer ended up looking a lot like a sewing
`machine.
`Philo Remington believed in “Art-in-Work.” And
`when he searched for an artist-mechanic to refine
`the Type-Writer for mass production, he hired the
`best he could find: William K. Jenne. Jenne had a
`spotless career in mechanics and Philo considered
`Remington lucky to get him. Jenne was a dedicated
`man, proud of his expertise. However, Jenne’s ex
`pertise was in the production of sewing machines.
`Nonetheless, Jenne dived right in.
`
`The Sholes, Glidden and Soule Typewriter, 1868.
`Sholes redesigned the keyboard to force the typist
`to type slower. He perfected what is known as the
`“QWERTY” keyboard (after the first six letters of
`the typewriter’s third row). After much experimen
`tation, Sholes produced an arrangem ent of keys so
`inconvenient, so annoying and troublesome, th at it
`could slow even the most expert typist. But what
`helped solve Sholes’ problem has left the rest of us
`in the soup. This keyboard, with a few minor
`changes, is used almost universally by English-
`typing people today!
`Sholes shared a common bond with other early
`typewriter inventors. Few of these men gave a sec
`ond’s thought to how to type on their contraptions.
`Sholes assumed two, or at the outside four, fingers
`were sufficient to operate his Type-Writer. He
`among others, firmly believed that the third and
`fourth fingers of each hand were too weak to use.
`And Sholes assigned no specific keys to each finger.
`Exactly how to strike the keys was left to each
`typist’s particular “style” and everyone looked at
`the keyboard while typing.
`
`
`
`The Remington Type-Writer ended up with a dis
`tinctive dressmaker design, complete with a foot
`pedal to advance the paper and sweet little flowers
`on the side.
`Densmore and Yost may have pushed the design
`and manufacture of the Type-Writer along, but
`someone else ended up doing more to spread the
`word than the two of them put together.
`Mark Twain.
`By the late 1870’s, the Type-Writer was on the
`market, spotless and gleaming. But no one was
`buying. Not only did the machines cost an arm and
`a leg ($125.00, somewhat like buying an automobile
`today), but the concept of typewriting was still very
`new. Little or no advertising had been done.
`
`“Pretty, perky girl”
`At the point when it looked like typewriter sales
`would dwindle into non-existence, the machine (and
`Remington) got a lucky break. One sunny after
`noon, Mark Twain, already a famous newspaper
`columnist and writer, fell in love with the Type-
`Writer. As part of its in-store sales pitch, a Boston
`departm ent store hired the “prettiest and perkiest
`girl” it could find to demonstrate how the Type-
`Writer worked. Each day she sat in a special corner
`of the store and typed out samples on small slips of
`paper to hand out to customers.
`
`A hungry salesman, eyeing Twain’s interest, an
`nounced th at the typist could type at the unheard
`of speed of fifty-seven words a minute. “Impossible,”
`said Twain. The salesman insisted and had the
`typist work while Twain timed her on his stop
`watch. Again and again, he timed. All afternoon
`she typed. When she finally typed faster than fifty-
`seven words a minute, Twain bet the salesman she
`couldn’t do it again. Twain lost, but he ended the
`day one typewriter richer. Of course, his glee was
`somewhat diminished later that day when he
`noticed the details of the departm ent store gim
`mick. In his autobiography, Twain explains what
`happened when he and a friend later returned to
`their hotel rooms:
`“We got out our slips and were a little disap
`pointed to find that they all contained the same
`words. The girl had economized time and labor by
`memorizing a formula which she knew by heart.
`At home I played with the toy, repeating and
`repeating “The boy stood on the burning deck” until
`I could turn out that boy’s adventure at the rate of
`twelve words a minute; then I resumed the pen for
`business, and only worked the machine to astonish
`inquisitive visitors. They carried off reams of the
`boy and his burning deck.”
`Actually, Twain used the machine a great deal
`more than he let on. He composed the manuscript
`of Tom Sawyer on it, and even invented the stan
`dard, double-spaced, one-side-of-the-page-only
`manuscript th at editors still expect today. When
`asked by the Remington Company, he contributed
`his personal testimonial to their sales catalog. It is
`typical, backhanded Twain:
`Gentlemen: Please do not use my name in any
`way. Please do not even divulge the fact that I own
`a machine. I have entirely stopped using the Type-
`Writer, for the reason that I never could write a
`letter with it to anybody without receiving a re
`quest by return mail that I would not only describe
`the machine but state what progress I had made in
`the use of it, etc., etc. I don’t like to write letters,
`and so I don’t want people to know that I own this
`curiosity breeding little joker.
`Yours truly,
`Sami L. Clemens
`
`9
`
`
`
`Wyckoff insisted th at the use of pen and ink
`created the evils of “pen paralysis, loss of sight, and
`curvature of the spine.” He claimed that the type
`w riter could solve every modern problem. It could
`make one rich. The method was easy, wrote Wyck
`off; “Purchase a Type-Writer and, having become
`expert, obtain a situation in some Law, Insurance,
`or M anufacturing or Merchant’s office as a corre
`sponding clerk or copyist.” There, an enterprising
`typist could do “from three to twenty hours’ work in
`one hour.” Wyckoff proclaimed that such a well-
`equipped, dedicated worker could easily catch the
`eye of the boss and accelerate rapidly up the corpo
`rate ladder to “fame and fortune.”
`And if a man named Frank E. McGurrin had his
`way, this dedicated worker, namely McGurrin,
`would type FAST up the corporate ladder. And
`without looking at the keyboard. Since 1876,
`McGurrin had turned his dusty law clerk’s office
`into a typewriting classroom. McGurrin found the
`venerable “hunt and peck” method far too slow for
`him to wade through his work. So, each night,
`McGurrin taught himself what he called his touch
`typing method. He boldly learned to operate the
`typewriter, using all of his fingers and without giv
`ing a glance at the keyboard. While McGurrin may
`not have realized Wyckoff s dream of a fast rise to
`“fame and fortune,” he did manage a $2 a-week
`raise. And the touch typing system we still use
`today was born. Like most newborns, though, it
`had a problem getting up on its feet.
`Since sales of the machine were so slow, no one
`cared how best to operate it. And stagnant sales
`had Densmore and Yost worried; their visions of
`wealth and ease were slipping slowly away. They
`didn’t know of McGurrin’s feat, nor would they
`have cared. They just wanted to unload the abomi
`nable machines. Their stepped-up sales force even
`tually sold the original Remington Type-Writing Co.
`to a company called Wyckoff, Seamans and Benedict.
`And so editor Wyckoff found another focus for
`his “world vision.” He became the head salesman
`for this newly restructured Remington Type
`w riting Co.
`
`The first commercial typewriter— the Model 1,
`Remington that caught Mark Twain’s eye.
`The public in general, however, was much slower
`than Mark Twain to understand the potential
`usefulness of the Type-Writer. All anyone seemed to
`want was one, or perhaps two, of the 25-cent type
`w ritten samples of the type that originally hooked
`Mr. Clemens. And it wasn’t until 1878 that the
`Remington picture brightened.
`This year hailed the advent of an attractive but
`slightly odd publication called The Typewriter
`Magazine (the hyphen and capitalization of the
`“W” somehow getting dropped along the way),
`edited by William O. Wyckoff. The magazine, ac
`cording to its masthead, was somewhat loftily
`“devoted to true reform, to the welfare of all m an
`kind, and to advancement and improvement in all
`things.” Quite an ambition for a lone man and his
`moderately-circulated paper. However, Wyckoff
`fervently believed that the only true hope for the
`world’s salvation was if every man and woman
`were to “forswear the use of pen and ink and take
`up typewriting.”
`
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`
`
`But his and the company’s mission was far from
`an easy one. People not only remained unimpressed
`by the work of the Type-Writer, but even resented
`the messages the machine produced. Most people
`believed that handwriting was the only appropriate
`method for personal correspondence. Some felt in
`sulted, confused, or both when they received typed
`letters. They considered the use of type an insult to
`their ability to read longhand. For example, a Texas
`insurance man, J. P. Johns, sent a typed note to one
`of his agents and received an indignant reply:
`I do not think it was necessary then, nor will it
`be in the future, to have your letters to me taken
`to the printers and set up like a handbill. I will be
`able to read your handwriting, and am deeply
`chagrined to think that you thought such a course
`necessary.
`Others felt that the typewriter was by nature an
`invasion of privacy. They believed that no man was
`clever enough to work the machine without a
`machine operator’s help and so even a love letter
`would have to be transcribed by an invading third
`party. To make m atters worse, a typed petition to
`the Congress of the United States was loudly and
`publicly rejected. Under Congressional regulations
`of the time, only hand w ritten or lithographed
`petitions could be submitted for consideration.
`Wyckoff and his colleagues met these difficulties
`with patience. They believed in themselves. They
`believed in the typewriter. They knew if they per
`sisted, their big break would come. When it did,
`they would be ready for it.
`It came at the YWCA.
`Until 1881, shorthand stenography was booming
`in the business world, but no one yet realized the
`link between this skill and typewriting. The men
`who almost exclusively filled the stenographer posi
`tions in business didn’t type, but readily admitted
`the time they did save by dictating their work to a
`typist. However, typewriting, colored largely by
`public opinion, was considered to have a dubious
`future. This, coupled with the low wage the typist
`was offered (about $10 a week), made for few, if any,
`males clamoring for the job.
`Enter the Young Women’s Christian Association.
`
`The YWCA typing classroom.
`The YWCA had a brazen idea: typing as a career
`opportunity for women. The general populace
`scoffed at the idea, but the business community em
`braced it, if only out of necessity. The eight young
`women who completed the first six-month typing
`course offered by the YWCA got jobs within days of
`graduation. Despite the opinion of some that the
`daily routine of the office would inevitably produce
`“severe nervous disorders” in the fragile female
`psyche, the women were successful. Soon, the
`YWCA found itself unable to train enough typists
`to meet the growing demand.
`The idea of young women working in a m an’s
`world, though, was a cause for some sly joking.
`Women typists themselves were at first called
`“typewriters” and this created some jokes with a
`double edge. For instance, there was the old story of
`the harried businessman who had suffered a rever
`sal of his fortunes. In a letter to his wife he wrote:
`Dear Blanche,
`I have sold off all my office furniture, chairs,
`desks, etc., etc., and am writing this letter under
`difficulties with my typewriter on my lap.
`Humor notwithstanding, Remington immedi
`ately opened schools. Private schools were founded.
`And women found the chink in the armor of male-
`dominated business. Tens of thousands of women,
`eager to find a spot in the business world, were
`soon clamoring to learn to type.
`
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`
`
`pages of newspapers from coast to coast. Frank
`McGurrin won $500 and the world won a new popu
`lar typing method.
`Subsequent typing contests, sponsored by touch
`typewriting converts including O.P. Judd, manager
`of the Remington office in Omaha, Nebraska,
`helped spread the word. The touch method began to
`sweep the country.
`All this excitement about typewriting methods
`also lit a flame under the sales of the machines.
`Wyckoff, Seamans & Benedict couldn’t have been
`more thrilled. They had the great good fortune to
`be selling the one and only typewriter on the mar
`ket. Knowing that they must build on this incred
`ible lead, Wyckoff and company tried everything
`they could to increase their company’s size and
`output.
`
`The Caligraph, the machine on which Louis TVaub lost.
`They started with what they considered a rather
`silly, but hopefully successful, promotional stun