Evening star., 1942-01-15

Henry MeIAnoFe. cludlng q gener.
GUS springhng Of XXXXXXs, =
heaping measure Of dollar signs,
asterisks, stars and &s, and . pinch
or two Of misspelled wo,<~.
Occasionally, reporters come along
who can play the typewriter by
ear, but they are generally looked
upon as business school freaks who
belong In the accounting depart
ment rather than in the city room.
But this is all likely to be changed
now. The blackout is with us, and
the hunt and peck system was never
meant to be practiced in darkened
room. 1t Is a system that calls for
the brightest of lights: Lights so
bright that the keys on the type
writer are blinded by them as coons
up a tree are by a powerful fash
light. This enables the reporter to
sneak up on them {the keys. Of
course, not coons) and strike them
before they can Jump, dodge, or
take flight.
I spent Miami's first blackout In
the newsroom Of the Miami Herald
and 1t was touching to see-rather,
to hear-the boys trying to knock
out their stories in a darkness that
would have done credit to the In.
side Of blackberry. Some Of them
spent the last IS minutes before the
lights were doused trying to memo
rize the keyboard and master the
touch system, but this. Of course,
was tantamount to trying to learn
to swim after you have gone under
twice.
Their suffering gave me pause.
AS they groaned and moaned over
their inability to locate the keys
in the dark, it was brought home to
me that I. too, was likely to be a
blackout victim and that I had
better test my skill in writing q
column in the dark.
So groped my way to a type
writer (kicking what I believe to
have been the society editor on the
shins on the way) poked a piece Of
paper in the machine and started q
column on blackout in Miami.
With all the confidence Of
tramp petting a bulldog. I worked
for 20 minutes. This is what I got:
Teis id benh written in a lackout.
Thst$s.
Tha onqxwy lighyt
Ihg wintre playground Cd the
wprgld has DOTTED hur spraklin
difmonds for widous weedz.
A Japanese bomder could fl 5his
City and nog fing enogh Ifht to
lifht cigetete.
Thg 3lackouf lastgs 80 minutes.
That was as far as I had gotten
when the lights came on and Miami
was her magnificently lighted neon
self again. Look at that stuff, will
you? Looks like something Chaucer
might have written. doesn't It? A
Chaucer with hangover, I mean.
1t taught me q lesson. Unless I
am going to change the title of my
column to Canterbury Tales or
write one strictly for that limited
audience which is interested in Old
English style Of writing, I had bet
ter learn the touch system. Either
that or get me flashIght.
The blackout itself was a tre-
mendous success. Backing out
Miami is no small task, because like
Los Angeles it is town where even
the smallest hot dog stand boasts
a sign with enough watt or volt
power to freckle fellow at 20 PAGES.
The tourists present problem, too.
Many Of them come down here to
play-to play just as hard as they
can-and with a night club every
IL feet they get so Lit up they cast
dull glow. At the height of the
blackout last night I went up on
the Herald roof and the only light
visible was that cast by a party
coming out Of a nearby bar. 1t
was an old-fashioned glow, and not
nearly SO vivid as is cast by those
who use martins for fuel. But this
problem will be solved in due time.