Henrietta Hay's Column

Two hundred million years ago dinosaurs roamed the earth. We don't know for sure why they became extinct, but they obviously failed to adapt.

Other things, less spectacular and more recent, have become extinct, and I am happy that they have. I am always amused when people speak longingly of the good old days, by which I assume they mean wood stoves, horse-drawn plows, outhouses, tin wash boards, tin bath tubs on the kitchen floor and other such items of luxurious living.

But last week saw the final farewell to the TYPEWRITER, and that hurts a little. Smith Corona Corporation, the last big-name American typewriter manufacturer, went into bankruptcy.

Typewriters have been nearly extinct for several years, victims of the word processing feature of computers. I would not for a moment want them back as exclusive writing tools, but there is a lot of sentiment tied up in them.

I still have my little portable manual Smith Corona stashed away somewhere. It was a very important part of my life for a lot of years.

When I was in High School we didn't have as many term papers to write as kids do now, but there were a few. That brand new typewriter kept my teachers from having to decipher my handwriting.

It went to Boulder with me, and logged many hours of work. Careful typing and correct spelling and grammar were essential then, because a mistake in the last line of a page meant re-typing the entire page. The typewriter did not include a spell-check. My friend the philosopher commented that the decline of spelling in the western world dates from the advent of the computer.

The faithful little Smith Corona was with me during those years of wandering around in the east. It recorded my long homesick letters back to Colorado and my reactions to a whole new part of the country. It never failed me and it never broke down. Maybe a letter or two wouldn't print sometimes, but I just substituted another one. Ney York

The remaining records of those years are full of typos and scratched out sentences and ideas, which seem a bit weird from my mature vantage point, but they do exist and I can thank my little Smith Corona for them. It was the 1940's version of a modern laptop and for its day just as efficient.

Today we have the computer and the word processor, which I consider to be the greatest thing since sliced bread. The thought of having to write a column on the typewriter boggles the mind. I can think and erase and re-do and move whole paragraphs with the click of a key. If I had to choose between giving up my computer and my dishwasher, it would be no-contest.

But -- the typewriter was invaluable in its time, probably as useful as the coal stove. The first practical typewriter was patented in 1868 and revolutionary changes have been made through the years. One thing has remained unchanged, however, and has been transferred over to the computer. The letters on the keyboard of my Mac today are arranged just as they were on that first typewriter back in 1868. According to the Grolier Encyclopedia, "The keyboard arrangement, nicknamed "querty" for the top line of letters, was designed to make it easier for salesmen to sell the machines. All the letters of the word 'typewriter' are in the top line, so there was no need to hunt and peck." If it ain't broke don't fix it.

Some writers are not impressed with technology. I cannot verify this, but I know I read somewhere that Ernest Hemingway was never willing to use a typewriter and wrote his novels in longhand.

Ann Landers, on the other hand, refuses to leave the typewriter and enter the computer age. She tried one and didn't like it. "I like an old-fashioned hands-on electric," she said. She hoards typewriter ribbons just in case. "That machine has got to last as long as I do."

Now who ever said that about a washboard? The computer is here to stay, but I still feel a bit sentimental about that little old manual Smith Corona.

THE TYPEWRITER. R. I. P.