The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 6

Ah, Gregg Typing, it's been awhile. Here's a rather enigmatic selection:

"A group of six men did all the work. The job did
not make them rich, but they got along quite well
and were quite glad to have the chance to live in
Switzerland during a part of the winter. The job
ended in eight weeks; the men were not too happy."

What was the job??

(See other selections, plus background info, by searching on the "Gregg Typing 1958" label below.)

The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 5

Oh, I have been waiting a long time for this one.



N O V E M B E R A G A I N
by Mike Trent

When the dark sky is scowling
With a snow-clouded face,
And the wild wind is howling
In a leaf-chasing race;
And the frost is out prowling
And there's mist in the glen,
There is no use in growling--
It's November again!



Past editions:
Gregg Typing, Second Edition: 1958
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 1
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 2
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 3
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Good Friday Edition

The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Good Friday Edition

We left Phoenix, Arizona, late that Friday night.
By the next day we had gone all the way to Ogden.
Frank and Quen each drove for almost three hours.
We spent three weeks there; then we had to leave.
It was very hard to plan a trip such as this one.
You should take a trip like this sometime, James.

The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 3

Weekend reviews coming soon. But for now...

"For more than a year now, it has been my pleasure each morning to study the window of a fine jewelry store that is located at the corner where I catch the bus. I get there a few minutes before eight and have to wait six or seven minutes before the bus is due to reach there. While I wait, I study the big display of clocks in that store; it is really quite something to see, with clocks of all sizes and kinds. There are several timepieces that I like to watch. You see no moving parts whatsoever--just the oval faces and pointed hands, somehow suspended in the front corner of the window.

A big sign says that one of the clocks is wound by the changes in the weather. That one dumbfounds me, and I admit to having great doubt about it. Deep inside, I cherish the quiet little prayer that the experts who built that job for us lazy folks have put in a winding key--only as insurance."

The poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958, Pt. 2

"We stood around the small fire and wished that we could be dry, even for just a few seconds. While the group of us stood watching the flames quietly leap into the air, Rex pushed a wet twig into the fire. Tongues of smoke began to rise as the twig sizzled and squeaked. All of us yelled at him as we jumped back from the smoke. Rex just smiled a bit, and then we all laughed and felt better. We found some dry branches in the back of the cave--not too many, but enough to stir up a warm blaze."

The poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958, Pt. 1

As promised, the first of the typing textbook vignettes. Let us look back fondly at the small press instructional textbook editors who had delusions of artistic grandeur:


While the early dusk quickly faded into dark, the
squadron went on and on, a long file of shapes on
all sides of the horizon.  Somewhere above us was
the air escort; we could hear the distant whining
of the jets above the throb of our engines.  From
the big ship ahead of us came a flicker, a signal
for us to call up extra help for the night watch.


Ahhh. Nourishes the soul, it does.

P.S. This morning I was so busy taking a break from work to fold a damn peacock that I totally missed the onsale of Otto's tickets. Fortunately, they didn't sell too quickly and I was able to nab one. The origami is going pretty well though. I can actually follow directions like "valley fold a kite base."

Gregg Typing, Second Edition - 1958

It's another gem of an old book that I share with you today. This one didn't come from the parents' Basement o' Wonders, but the grandparents' Basement o' Wonders (Cellar o' Curiosities?) when we were cleaning it out last fall. It's a textbook from a 1958 typing class. I assume it belonged to one of my aunts - I'm not sure how many guys actually took typing back in 1958. This guy did, though:



Let's consider this fellow for a moment. First off - nice sweater, my friend. Secondly ... is he wearing Mary Janes? Further examination of his legs leads to three possible conclusions. 1) He is wearing pants and socks of the exact same color, and the pants are capri length. 2) He's wearing footie pajama pants with shoes over them. 3) He's not wearing any pants at all, and he has a pocket-shaped scar on his upper thigh. You make the call.

One of the funny things about the book (besides the photos of mammoth metal typewriters under the heading "Which of these typewriters will you be using?") is the fact that the troubleshooting sections include help for "striking the keys too lightly" and "striking the keys too hard" - because on an actual typewriter, that really did affect what went onto the page. Also, this is great - in the event that you didn't have a 1/! key, you were supposed to type a period, backspace, and then type an apostrophe on top in order to create an exclamation. Sweet Moses. (Side note - I know I'm acting like typewriters are these archaic cave machines only glimpsed in legend, but of course I did my first typing on a typewriter. I'm quite familiar with the quirks of the later models, but it's easy to forget how comparatively recent that was ... as I sit here blogging remotely.)

Here's a practice paragraph from Lesson 4:

Dear Jeff:   I guess I am all set for the
game.   I must get some ice cream for the
folks as I come home; that is all that I
must do.   Oh, I must get some cake, too.

The guide suggests spending 2 minutes on each line, which seemed ridiculous until I remembered that erasing backspace keys hadn't been invented yet. Shudder.

I'm beginning to notice a zen-like beauty and simplicity to the lesson-ending paragraph reviews. Here's another:

I can see all six men as they work over
a log pile.   One is using his axe; see,
he has just swung it way over his head.
They might quit soon:   It is half done.

Lesson 7 over, grasshopper. I wonder if I could have any success publishing a volume of typing haiku.

However, in Lesson 23, they let the big secret out of the bag:

It is now time to tell you that it is not through chance that the right margins are even in all the timed writings. Each line had to be revised many times, and it was quite a job. When you do other kinds of work, you must realize that you will not have straight right margins. Do not expect them.

WHAT?? You BASTARDS.

Other favorite sentences:

It seems Lee keeps bees in apple trees.
Jackie was quite vexed by this lazy power farming.
Pack my box with five dozen jugs of liquid veneer.
His need:  a tasty square meal.
Those big men will quickly jeopardize five exits.
Miriam might make more famous skimmers.

Skimmers? I'm thinking either an article of clothing or some sort of 1950's snack food. Any ideas?

Predictably, as the lessons progress, the paragraphs become more involved. Every so often, I'm planning to inject a poignant 1958 typing textbook vignette into the blog for a little light reading. Stay tuned!