Hot wax held it together
Today in the office, someone mentioned the days of correcting your text on a typewriter, which brought back a flood of related memories.
In 1972, I arrived on campus and was quickly drawn into the hive of activity each week that took place below my dormitory room. The student newspaper, known as “The Cadre” at that time, had its layout room just down the hallway from our photo club darkroom.
Every Sunday evening, a team of typists arrived and took over all available keyboards in the offices of the Student Union. The various sheets of copy were typed up in rigid columns, and then those who were present and literate began the hours of proof-reading and correction with blue pencils; here was a true educational experience.
Once the copy seemed to be error-free, we began cutting the sheets into strips, using scissors, X-Acto knives, guillotine cutters, everything but our teeth got into the battle to produce a predetermined number of “copy inches”.
The tools in that room allowed magic to take place. Pica scales. Proportion corners. The marvelous Varityper, that produced real headlines on reels of photographic paper. Rolls of border tape, in a variety of widths and patterns. All this came “to bed” on sheets of layout paper, to prepare the eventual shipment of “camera-ready copy”. Finally, after a couple of days, fresh bundles of the latest newspaper, with our names in the credits. All held together with the glorious odour of hot wax.
