The rambling ponderings of Eric "Gub" Snyder. I'm incurably curious. I ponder things like AI, the environment, sustainability, stranded assets, environmental stewardship, waste, waste reduction, thriving simply, living simply, genealogy, history, calendars, personal productivity...
The Immortal Beep: How the Fax Machine Conquered the Office
In the modern era of instant Slack messages and high-speed fiber optics, the rhythmic screech and mechanical grinding of a fax machine feel like a transmission from a distant, analog planet. Yet, for nearly three decades, this device was the undisputed heartbeat of global commerce. It didn’t just occupy a corner of the office; it defined the speed of business.
The story of the fax machine is not one of a sudden "eureka" moment, but rather a slow-burn evolution that began decades before the telephone was even a household staple. To understand how it found its way into the office, we have to look at the intersection of telegraphy, early image scanning, and a desperate corporate need for a paper trail.
The Victorian Roots of Tele-facsimile
Long before Xerox or Panasonic became synonymous with the office fax, a Scottish inventor named Alexander Bain laid the groundwork. In 1843—decades before Alexander Graham Bell’s telephone—Bain received a patent for a "chemical telegraph."
Bain’s device used a pendulum to scan a message written on a metal surface, translating the physical bumps into electrical pulses sent over telegraph wires. At the receiving end, a synchronized pendulum would "write" the image onto chemically treated paper. While primitive, the core logic was there: the deconstruction of an image into data points, transmission over distance, and reconstruction at the destination.
Despite this early start, the fax remained a niche curiosity for nearly a century. It was used by newspapers to transmit wire photos (the "Wirephoto") and by meteorologists to share weather maps, but it was too bulky, too expensive, and too slow for the average accountant or lawyer.
The Mid-Century Breakthrough: Mobility and Standards
The fax machine’s journey into the general office landscape truly began in the 1960s. Up until this point, if you wanted to send a document across the country, you had two options: the Telex (which only sent text) or the Postal Service (which took days).
In 1966, Xerox introduced the Magnafax Telecopier. This was a pivotal moment because it was the first machine small enough to sit on a desk and—crucially—it used standard telephone lines instead of dedicated telegraph wires. You would literally place a telephone handset into an acoustic coupler on top of the machine to "talk" to the other end.
The 1960s Workflow: To send a single page, you had to call the recipient, wait for them to confirm they were ready, "handshake" the machines via the phone cradle, and wait six minutes for a single grainy page to emerge.
The Japanese Revolution and the "Group" Standards
While Xerox opened the door, it was Japanese manufacturers like Ricoh, Sharp, and Canon that kicked it wide open in the 1970s and 80s. They realized that for the fax to be a universal office tool, it needed two things: speed and interoperability.
The creation of the CCITT (now ITU-T) standards was the "Big Bang" for the fax.
Group 1 (1968): Slow, 6-minute transmissions.
Group 2 (1976): Cut the time down to 3 minutes using better compression.
Group 3 (1980): The game-changer. Using digital compression, it could send a page in under a minute.
Japanese companies excelled at the miniaturization and optical scanning technology required for Group 3 machines. By the mid-1980s, the fax machine had shrunk from a heavy console to a sleek desktop device that used thermal paper rolls.
Why the Office Fell in Love with the Fax
The fax machine solved three critical problems that the burgeoning "Information Age" office couldn't ignore:
The "Hard Copy" Requirement: Business thrives on signatures. A faxed signature was legally recognized in a way that a verbal confirmation over the phone was not. It allowed contracts to be "signed and delivered" in minutes rather than days.
Visual Communication: You couldn't "telex" a blueprint, a hand-drawn diagram, or a logo. The fax allowed architects, designers, and engineers to collaborate across oceans.
The Language Barrier: In Japan and other East Asian countries, the fax was even more vital. Typing Kanji or complex characters on a standard keyboard was difficult with early computer technology. Handwriting a message and faxing it was infinitely more efficient.
By 1989, there were over 4 million fax machines in the U.S. alone. It had become a self-fulfilling prophecy: you needed a fax machine because everyone else had one. The "Network Effect" was in full swing.
The Cultural Impact: "Just Fax It To Me"
By the 1990s, the fax machine was a cultural icon. It appeared in movies as a plot device for high-stakes ransom notes; it sat in every hotel business center; it even birthed the "fax prank" (sending a black page to an enemy to drain their expensive ink or toner).
Offices were designed around the "Fax Room." This was the watercooler of the 90s, where employees would stand, waiting for a document to slowly crawl out of the machine, reading the cover sheets of their colleagues' correspondence out of sheer boredom.
The Digital Sunset (and Surprising Survival)
The decline of the fax machine began with the rise of the PDF and Email attachments in the late 90s. When high-speed internet became standard, the 56k-modem-based screech of the fax started to feel like an unnecessary hurdle. Why scan a paper to send it over a phone line when you could just "Save As" and hit "Send"?
However, reports of the fax machine's death have been greatly exaggerated. Even today, it remains a ghost in the machine of several key industries:
Healthcare: Due to strict privacy laws (like HIPAA in the U.S.), many providers still view the point-to-point nature of a fax as more secure than an unencrypted email.
Law: The legal "paper trail" tradition dies hard, and many courts still prioritize faxed filings.
Real Estate: While digital signatures (DocuSign) have taken over, the fax still lingers in the closing of complex international deals.
Conclusion: A Legacy of Immediacy
The fax machine was the bridge between the analog world and the digital frontier. It taught the business world to expect immediacy. It broke the stranglehold of the postal service and paved the way for the "always-on" culture we live in today.
While the physical machine—with its curly thermal paper and erratic ink—may be a relic of the past, the "fax" lives on in the cloud, digitized into "e-fax" services that continue to hum along in the background of global trade. It found its way into the office because it promised to make the world smaller, and for a few glorious, noisy decades, it did exactly that.
The Ghost Occupations: Jobs Lost to the March of Progress
The mid-20th century was a pivot point in human history. In the early 1950s, the world stood on the precipice of the Digital Revolution. Offices hummed with the mechanical clatter of typewriters, the air in factories was thick with the scent of machine oil, and "computing" was still something people did, not something people bought.
As technology accelerated, the labor landscape underwent a radical pruning. Entire career paths that once required specialized training, apprenticeships, and decades of dedication vanished, rendered obsolete by the silicon chip and the automated sensor. These "ghost occupations" offer a fascinating glimpse into a world that functioned without the internet, providing a window into how much—and how fast—humanity has changed.
The Information Architects of the Analog Age
Before the advent of the personal computer, data processing was a physical, tactile labor. Information didn't "flow" through fiber optics; it was punched, calculated, and transmitted by hand.
1. The Comptometer Operator
In the 1950s, if a large corporation needed to run its payroll or audit its books, it didn't open Excel. It turned to a room full of Comptometer Operators. The Comptometer was the first commercially successful key-driven mechanical calculator.Unlike a modern calculator, it required immense manual dexterity and a specific rhythm; a skilled operator could add columns of figures faster than someone using a modern 10-key pad because the machine allowed for "chording"—pressing multiple keys simultaneously to enter large numbers in one stroke.
By the late 1970s, the arrival of electronic desktop calculators and early mainframe computers turned these specialized machines into heavy paperweights. The rhythmic clicking of the Comptometer room fell silent, replaced by the hum of cooling fans.
2. The Telex Operator
Long before email or the fax machine, the Telex Operator was the gatekeeper of international business communication. Using a teleprinter—a device that looked like a typewriter mated with a telephone—these operators sent text-based messages over a switched network of telegraph lines.
Sending a Telex was an art. It involved punching a paper tape with a series of holes (Baudot code) and then feeding that tape into a transmitter. It was the "instant messaging" of the 1950s, but it required a human intermediary to ensure the connection was patched through correctly. As digital data transmission protocols evolved in the 1980s, the Telex machine was relegated to the basement.
The Human Switches of Connectivity
In the early 1950s, the world was connected by copper wires and human intervention. Communication was not a private act between two devices; it was a service mediated by a workforce.
3. The Switchboard Operator (Long Distance)
While local "dial" service was becoming common in the 50s, long-distance calling remained a complex manual task. To call someone three states away, you spoke to a Switchboard Operator who would physically plug a patch cord into a jack to complete the circuit. These operators were the pulse of the nation's social and commercial life.
The transition to Direct Distance Dialing (DDD) began in the 50s but took decades to fully phase out the manual operator. Today, the "operator" is a voice-recognition algorithm, and the massive rooms filled with "hello girls" and their tangled cords are a memory of a more interconnected, yet slower, era.
4. The Elevator Operator
It is hard for a modern traveler to imagine that vertical transportation once required a pilot. In the early 1950s, elevators were not "automatic." They required an Elevator Operator to manually level the car with the floor using a lever and to open and close the heavy manual doors.
Operators weren't just mechanics; they were the "concierges" of the skyscraper, announcing floors and greeting regular tenants. A strike by elevator operators in New York City in the mid-20th century could bring the entire metropolis to a standstill. The introduction of the "Automatic Elevator" was initially met with public fear—people didn't trust a machine to stop at the right floor—but by the 1960s, the operator had become a luxury found only in the most elite hotels.
The Industrial and Domestic Shadows
The disappearance of certain jobs didn't just happen in the office; it happened on the streets and in the very structure of our homes.
5. The Pinsetter (Bowling Alley)
Bowling was a massive social pastime in the 1950s, but the "reset" button didn't exist. Behind the lanes, often in cramped, noisy conditions, worked the Pinsetters. These were often young men or boys who would manually clear downed pins, reset the deck, and roll the ball back to the bowler. It was a dangerous, low-paying job that required quick reflexes to avoid being hit by a flying 16-pound ball.
The invention of the Gottfried Schmidt mechanical pinsetter in the late 40s began to sweep through bowling alleys in the early 50s. By the end of the decade, the "Pin Boy" had been almost entirely replaced by a series of pulleys and mechanical arms.
6. The Iceman
While the "Golden Age" of the Iceman was the early 20th century, the profession lingered into the early 1950s in many rural and urban areas. The Iceman delivered large blocks of ice for "iceboxes"—the precursors to the modern refrigerator. Families would place a card in their window indicating how many pounds of ice they needed.
As the 1950s consumer boom made electric refrigerators affordable for the middle class, the iceman's horse-drawn carriage (and later truck) disappeared from the morning streets. The "icebox" became the "fridge," and a daily human interaction was replaced by a humming compressor.
The Vanished Artisans
7. The Linotype Operator
In the 1950s, every newspaper and book was "set" in lead. The Linotype Operator sat at a massive, complex machine that cast entire lines of type in molten metal. It was a highly skilled, dangerous, and prestigious trade. The air in print shops was often heavy with lead fumes, and the "hot metal" era of journalism was one of physical grit.
The 1960s and 70s saw the rise of "cold type" (phototypesetting) and eventually digital publishing. The massive Linotype machines, once the heart of the New York Times and the London Gazette, were sold for scrap or moved to museums.
Why It Matters: The Lesson of the 1950s
Looking back at these occupations, a clear pattern emerges. We didn't just lose jobs; we lost a specific type of human mediation.
Tactile Precision: Jobs like the Comptometer Operator required a physical synergy between human and machine that modern software doesn't demand.
Social Friction: The Elevator Operator and the Switchboard Operator provided a layer of human contact that has been smoothed over by automation.
Physical Presence: The Iceman and the Pinsetter represent a time when the "service" in a service economy was literal and manual.
As we move further into the era of Artificial Intelligence, the 1950s serve as a reminder that technological displacement is not new. Just as the silicon chip silenced the Comptometer, AI is currently reshuffling the deck for modern roles. The "Ghost Occupations" are not just footnotes in history; they are the ancestors of our modern workspace, reminding us that while the work changes, the human drive to innovate—and the necessity to adapt—remains the only constant.
To understand why these jobs vanished, we have to look past the machines themselves and into the economic "tectonic plates" that shifted underneath the middle class during the 1960s. The disappearance of the Comptometer Operator or the Telex Specialist wasn't just a technical upgrade; it was the first tremors of a massive restructuring of the American workforce.
The Great "Automation Scare" of 1964
By the early 1960s, the disappearance of manual roles like the Elevator Operator and the Pinsetter had reached a fever pitch in the public consciousness. In 1964, President Lyndon B. Johnson was concerned enough to establish the National Commission on Technology, Automation, and Economic Progress.
The fear wasn't just that people would lose jobs, but that the "bottom" of the middle class was being hollowed out. The Commission eventually concluded that while technology was "destroying jobs," it wasn't "destroying work." However, the type of work was changing from something you did with your hands and rhythm to something you did with your mind and abstract logic.
The Rise of "Routine" vs. "Non-Routine" Labor
Economists now point to this era as the beginning of Job Polarization. Roles like the Comptometer Operator were the definition of "routine cognitive labor." They were high-skill but repetitive. When the digital computer arrived, it didn't just compete with these workers; it did exactly what they did, but infinitely faster.
The Winners: Managers, engineers, and "Information Architects" who could use the new data to make decisions.
The Displaced: The specialized clerical class. Many former Comptometer Operators were forced to transition into "unskilled" data entry or administrative roles, often seeing their relative status and wages stagnate.
The Gendered Shift: From Hand to Mind
A fascinating and often overlooked aspect of these "ghost jobs" is how they reshaped the professional lives of women. In the 1950s, the office was a sea of manual activity.
The Keypunch Operator: The "Missing Link"
As the Comptometer faded, a temporary bridge appeared: the Keypunch Operator. These women (and it was almost exclusively women) were the human interface for the first mainframe computers. They translated data into "Hollerith cards" (punch cards).
For a brief window in the 1960s and 70s, this was a massive occupation. But it was a "bridge job"—destined to be swallowed by the very technology it helped feed. By the 1980s, when terminals allowed direct data entry, the Keypunch Operator joined the Comptometer Operator in the archives. This forced a massive migration of female labor into the service sector and higher-level management, contributing to the closing of the gender pay gap in cognitive roles, even as it eliminated thousands of stable, "mechanical" office jobs.
The "Quiet" Attrition of the Service Sector
Unlike factory closures, which often happen in a single, traumatic day, the disappearance of roles like the Elevator Operator or the Iceman was a "quiet" death.
Natural Attrition and the "Prestige" Factor
In many luxury buildings in New York or Chicago, elevator operators weren't fired; they simply weren't replaced when they retired. Building owners realized it was cheaper to pay for an automated Otis system than to keep two men on a $3,100 annual salary (the 1950 average).
This slow phase-out meant there were fewer "entry-level" rungs on the ladder for the working class. The Pin Boy at the bowling alley or the Soda Jerk at the pharmacy were "starter jobs" that provided a social education. As these were automated or replaced by self-service models, the transition from youth to professional life became more dependent on formal education (college) rather than community-based apprenticeships.
The Socio-Economic Cost: The Loss of the "Human Buffer"
When we look back at the Telex Operator or the Long-Distance Switchboard Operator, we see a lost layer of social interaction. These workers were more than just gears in a machine; they were human filters.
The Elevator Operator knew everyone in the building and acted as a security guard.
The Switchboard Operator could help you find a doctor in an emergency or "connect" you through a complex web of humanity.
The Milkman or the Iceman provided a daily check-in for elderly residents.
As these roles vanished, they were replaced by Efficiency. We gained speed, but we lost what sociologists call "loose ties"—the casual, daily human interactions that build the fabric of a neighborhood. The 1960s transition saw the middle class move from a world of Interdependence (needing the iceman, the operator, the conductor) to a world of Autonomy (the refrigerator, the dial tone, the personal car).
Summary of the Disappearance
Occupation
Replaced By
Primary Cause
Comptometer Operator
Electronic Calculators / Mainframes
Automation of routine math
Telex Operator
Fax, then Email
Digital data protocols
Elevator Operator
Automatic Push-button Systems
Cost-efficiency & "The Otis Strike"
Pinsetter
Mechanical Pinsetters
Labor-saving machinery
Linotype Operator
Phototypesetting / Desktop Publishing
Shift from "Hot" to "Cold" type
Switchboard Operator
Direct Distance Dialing (DDD)
Automated switching circuits
The lessons of the 1950s ghost occupations are more relevant today than ever. They remind us that technology rarely eliminates the need for results—people still need to calculate, communicate, and move between floors—but it relentlessly targets the human intermediary.
Good morning. It is 6:00 AM on February 6th, and the quiet of the morning provides the perfect backdrop for today's reflection on the speed of change and the permanence of values.
The Speed of Sound and the Value of Silence
In the early morning, the world feels still, yet we know that just beyond the horizon, everything is moving at an incredible pace. We live in an era where information travels instantly, but today’s history lesson reminds us of the moment we truly began to "shrink" the world.
This Day in History: February 6, 1952
On this day, Elizabeth II became Queen of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth. While her reign would span seven decades of immense technological and social upheaval, another milestone occurred on the very same day: the first commercial jet, the de Havilland Comet, was officially certified for passenger service.
It was the dawn of the "Jet Age." Suddenly, distances that took weeks to travel could be crossed in hours. The world became smaller, faster, and more connected than ever before.
Navigating the "Jet Age" of Information
Today, we aren't just moving bodies across oceans; we are moving ideas across digital networks at the speed of light.
The Digital Curator’s Challenge: In a world that moves as fast as a jet, the most valuable skill isn't speed—it’s discernment. As we curate our "People Worth Watching" or organize our research in NotebookLM, we are acting as the navigators. We decide which ideas are worth the fuel and which are just noise.
The Executor’s Steady Hand: While the world rushes by, tasks like managing a will or an estate require the opposite of jet-speed. they require a "monarchic" patience—a steady, long-term view that ensures every detail is handled with dignity and care.
A Thought for Today
We often feel pressured to keep up with the "jet-speed" of modern life, but remember that even the fastest aircraft needs a grounded controller. Today, take a moment to step out of the rush. Look at your projects—your blog, your family letters, your research—and ask: "Am I moving fast, or am I moving toward a meaningful destination?"
Today, the universe brings forth the energy of Justice, reminding us to seek balance, truth, and fairness in all our dealings. This card often appears when decisions need to be made, or when the consequences of past actions are coming to light. It speaks to integrity, accountability, and the importance of acting with a clear conscience.
Message for Today:
Reflect on areas in your life where balance might be needed. Are you acting fairly towards yourself and others? Are your decisions rooted in truth and honesty? Today is a powerful day to address any imbalances, make ethical choices, and trust that acting with integrity will lead to equitable outcomes. Stand firm in your truth, and let justice prevail. ⚖️✨
π FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 6: TODAY IN HISTORY & NEWS SUMMARY
π This Day in History: Global Highlights
1952 (UK): Princess Elizabeth becomes Queen Elizabeth II at the age of 25, following the death of her father, King George VI. She would go on to become the longest-reigning monarch in British history.
1840 (New Zealand): The Treaty of Waitangi is signed between representatives of the British Crown and various MΔori chiefs. It is considered New Zealand's founding document, though its interpretation remains central to national political debate.
1989 (Poland): The Round Table Talks begin in Warsaw between the communist government and the Solidarity trade union. These negotiations paved the way for the end of communist rule in Eastern Europe.
1819 (Singapore): Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles signs a treaty with local rulers to establish a trading post for the British East India Company, marking the founding of modern Singapore.
1959 (USA): Engineer Jack Kilby files a patent for the first integrated circuit (microchip), an invention that would fundamentally transform the global technology landscape.
1918 (UK): The Representation of the People Act is passed, granting the right to vote to British women over the age of 30 who met specific property qualifications.
π¨π¦ Canada’s Biggest Political Story
Yesterday: PM Mark Carney unveiled a new National Automotive Strategy to shield the industry from U.S. tariff threats, while Alberta Premier Danielle Smith sparred with Ottawa over judicial appointment bilingualism.
Expected Today: Parliament shifts focus to the Arctic sovereignty debate as the NDP pushes the government to cancel F-35 jet orders in favor of non-U.S. alternatives to ensure military independence.
πΊπΈ U.S. Biggest Political Story
Current: Washington remains in a high-stakes deadlock as lawmakers race to avoid a total Homeland Security shutdown; meanwhile, the administration celebrates a major new trade deal signed with Argentina's Javier Milei.
π Global Impact: Yesterday’s Legacy
February 5, 2026, will be remembered for the "Continental Realignment" in South America, as Argentina’s libertarian pivot toward the U.S. and PM Carney’s "Team Canada" trade defense signaled a new era of transactional diplomacy.
π Quotation of the Day
"One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain." — Bob Marley (Born this day, 1945)
π️ Ottawa, ON Weather & Sky
☀️ Sunrise: 7:18 AM
π Sunset: 5:16 PM
π Moon Phase:Waning Gibbous (76% illumination; rising at approximately 11:00 PM tonight)
Good morning! It is 7:00 AM on February 5th. Here is your daily blog post draft, blending a historical Canadian milestone with a reflection on how we organize our digital and personal legacies.
The Art of the Narrative: Connecting the Dots of a Life
There is a certain magic in the early morning quiet, isn't there? It’s the time when the "pondering" comes easiest. Today, I find myself thinking about how we tell our stories—not just in the words we write, but in the systems we leave behind for others to follow.
This Day in History: February 5, 1924
On this day, the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) was granted the "Royal" prefix by King George V. While it was a formal military designation, it represented something much larger: the beginning of a structured, national identity for Canadian aviation. It turned a collection of pilots and planes into a cohesive legacy. It provided a framework that would guide thousands of individuals toward a shared purpose.
Designing Your Own Framework
We often think of our "legacy" as something that happens at the end of a life, but the RCAF reminds us that legacies are built through daily structure and clear identity.
The Executor's Role: Being an executor is, in many ways, like being a historian. You are tasked with following a framework left by someone else to ensure their narrative is completed with dignity.
The Digital Curator: When we use tools like NotebookLM or organize our "People Worth Watching" list, we are creating a "prefix" for our own knowledge. We are telling the future: "This is what mattered. This is the order I found in the chaos."
Whether you are 24 or 84, the act of organizing your thoughts is an act of leadership. It’s about making sure that when someone else picks up the "baton," they know exactly which direction to run.
A Thought for Today
As you go about your day, look at one project or group of files you’ve been meaning to organize. Don't look at it as a chore; look at it as a gift to your future self or your family. You are the architect of your own history. How will you define it today?
Today, the universe invites you to step back, reflect, and seek inner wisdom with The Hermit. This card signifies a time for introspection, solitude, and deep personal understanding. It's about turning inward to find your own truth and guidance, rather than seeking answers from the outside world.
Message for Today:
Embrace the quiet. If you've been feeling overwhelmed or needing clarity, today is the perfect day to retreat, even for a short while. Seek out moments of solitude, meditate, journal, or simply be with your thoughts. The answers you seek are within you; you just need to create the space to hear them. Trust your inner compass. π‘π§♀️
