In article <niasc5$qgv$
1...@dont-email.me>,
My grandmother had a gizmo that she claimed to have "liberated" when she
mustered out of the WACs at the end of WWII. It was battleship gray, a
bit more than a foot square, stood about 10 inches high at the back,
sloping down to about 3 inches at the front, and weighed (or at least,
seemed like it did to me when I was a kid) something like 50 pounds. The
thing was a regular friggin' TANK! It had a keyboard consisting of 7
columns of 10 buttons, labeled 0 through 9 from bottom to top, plus four
operation buttons (+, -, X, and the old-style
"colon-overstruck-with-dash" division symbol) in a column on the right,
and a button labeled "Reset" on the top left corner, just to the left of
a legend reading "<illegible smudge>iley Numerical Calculator" .
To do a math problem, you'd click down the buttons (They'd click down
and lock into place when you pushed 'em) for the first number of the
operation, then reach over and pull a handle on the side that swung in
an arc. There'd be a fairly impressive mechanical clatter as you were
swinging the handle, and a bunch of dials behind a window near the top -
looked a lot like a car odometer - would spin to show whatever numbers
you'd pushed. Once you finished that pull-stroke, the buttons for the
number you'd punched in would pop up and the handle would spring back.
Once it did, you'd hit the appropriate operation button and punch in the
second number, then reach over and pull the handle again. During the
pull, the numbers in the answer window would spin like an odometer gone
insane, and once you let go of the handle, all of the buttons would be
popped up into the initial position, and the answer window (where the
odometer-like dials could be seen) held - THE ANSWER! If you were doing
a column of numbers, you could then punch the "+" or "-" button, and
punch in the next number before pulling the handle again to get a
running total. Otherwise, you mashed the button tagged "Reset", which
caused any keys that might be punched to pop up, and held it while you
pulled the handle, which rolled all the numbers in the window back to
zeros before starting your next calculation.
Oddly enough, the answer window was located right below the smudged
label next to the reset button. If forced, I'd say the smudge was
probably "Bailey", but don't hold me to that...
I hear you... "So what's your point???" Easy: at least to me, after
growing up playing with the beast I just described, the idea of somebody
in 1954 talking about an answer appearing in a window on a "calculator"
is your basic "Yeah? So?" concept.
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