I was thinking the other day about the eclectic assortment of computers that I’ve used over the years. I then realized that not only had I grown up around computers, but next year will mark 30 years that I have actively been using these infernal contraptions!
That’s thirty years out of forty-three. To quote Ferris Bueller, “how’s that for being born under a bad sign?”
In the beginning, there was the mainframe
My first exposure to computers was with beasts like this. This monster is one of the last of the once-common IBM System/360 mainframe computers. On display at the Computer History Museum in Mountain View CA, it is no longer functional, but at one time, this machine and thousands like it ran American business.
My father was a COBOL slinger (no jokes, please). He first worked as an operator on an IBM 1401 (which the Museum has operational) for Package Products, Inc. in Charlotte NC. He later became a programmer there when they got a 360. He kept a COBOL compiler on every computer he owned (more on that later), and used terms that are now out-of-date, like calling the hard drive a “Winchester” or referring to RAM as “core”.
I remember as a child, going to see Dad at the office and walking into the computer room. It was always a thrill for me. Seeing those huge (well, to a four-year-old) machines like the card sorters and the line printers was thrilling. I remember one time, he asked me to draw a picture of Charlie Brown (I was in my “copying Peanuts out of the newspaper” phase). I did, and he came back with a calendar the computer had printed of Charlie Brown using the ASCII (sorry… it was IBM… EBCDIC) characters. Okay, it wasn’t my drawing of Charlie Brown, but be fair… it’s not like they had a flatbed scanner or anything like that back there!
I never got to use these computers, but I include it here because it was, after all, my first exposure to a computer. Compared to machines of today, they were appallingly slow, frighteningly small and horrifyingly primitive. I can remember discussing computers with my father, and he reminisced about how excited all the programmers at Package Products were because they were getting a memory expansion for the computer. They were upgrading from 4 kilobytes to 16! He said they were all scratching their heads, wondering “What are we going to do with all that room?”
Of course, adding “19″ to all their two-digit year fields didn’t even occur to them.
Taking out the trash
In 1980, I started high school. By this time, we were living in Dalton GA. Dad, having spent time with E.T. Barwick and Shaw Industries, was now working as a systems analyst for Dalton Computer Services, which sold Texas Instruments minicomputers to the carpet industry and to local governments.
As a freshman at Northwest Whitfield High, my main activity (and opportunity for social interaction) was in the alto saxophone section of the band. Every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, we practiced after school, starting at 3:05. One day, while rushing to practice, I noticed that the door to the computer lab was open and there were students in there, pounding away at the computers. A light went on inside my head, and I rushed to tell my friends Hoyt and Jeff about this. There were computers in the school… and we could use them!
Well, I say there were computers… I mean, just barely computers. The computer lab was full of these:
Yup. The Radio Shack TRS-80 Model I.
Go ahead and shudder. I won’t stop you.
This beauty has it all: RCA black-and-white television (with the tuner stripped out) for the monitor, cassette drive for program and data storage, blazing fast 1.77 MHz Zilog Z-80 processor, Palo Alto TinyBASIC in ROM, 128×48 pixel graphics, 64×16 character mode and a whopping 4 kilobytes of RAM. Even by 1980, this was outdated. The instructor had a souped-up version of this machine, with the Expansion Interface, Level II BASIC (from Microsoft, no less!) and two 140K floppy drives. There was even a disk-based operating system (TRSDOS) and a network controller.
It may have been outdated, but to us, it was heaven. As soon as the bell would ring to end classes at 3:05, my friends and I would rush to the bandroom, grab our partially assembled instruments, and then scurry to the computer room. We’d plop down in front of one of the machines, and begin the laborious process of loading whatever program we were working on in from tape. If we were lucky, it would finally load, then we’d have maybe fifteen minutes to slam out whatever code we’d scribbled down in our notebooks, run it, note whatever errors popped up, then save the program back off to tape. If all went well, we had three minutes to grab our stuff and run down to the parking lot, assembling our horns as we ran down the stairs. We eventually got things timed out to where we could get there just as the whistle blew and we were to be in place and at attention.
One day, my father came to my room to tell me that it was time for dinner and he noticed the BASIC code I had strewn all across the floor. I told him about my daily treks to the computer room and why it caused me to have to stay after band practice for what we called “Sunset Squad”—extra marching because of various infractions, including being late for practice. At that point, he began making plans for us to have a computer at home.
A CPU of our own
Personally, I’d have been happy with any of the fine computers below:




The only one of these computers I had any kind of a shot at was the IBM PC. The others—the TRS-80, the Apple II, the Commodore—weren’t real computers. The IBM… it was a real computer. I mean, it was from IBM, right? After all, no one ever got fired for buying IBM.
Problem was, the IBM was pretty new, and extremely expensive. So, the first computer we tried to get ended up being one of these:

Amazing what you can find on the Internet, isn’t? That is a Texas Instruments DS-990 Model 1 minicomputer. It was a single user version of the minicomputers that Dalton Computer Services sold. It had a 16-bit TMS 99000 microprocessor in it (the same chip later used in the TI 99/4a) and it had a multitasking operating system. It included compilers for COBOL, Pascal and BASIC. It also had no floppy drives. Think of it as a forerunner of the original iMac.
It also was louder than a backfiring dump truck and consumed more power than several counties in South Georgia. It was also vetoed by my mother, who wasn’t having anything like that in the house.
Fortunately, TI decided to get into the nascent personal computer game with an entry of their own. This was to be my “first” computer.
Nothing “Personal”, just “Professional”
Shortly after the release of the IBM Personal Computer, there were a flood of MS-DOS computers that weren’t 100% compatible with the IBM version. While Microsoft had cagily worked a deal with IBM that allowed them to license the OS to other computers, the IBM PC had an IBM-specific BIOS chip. Without that, your computer was just another MS-DOS machine. What no one realized at that time was how important IBM compatibility was to become. It would take the release of the Compaq to usher in the era of true compatibles. However, that’s a story for someone else to tell.
The Texas Instruments Professional Computer was, for it’s day, a marvel of microcomputing. It sported an Intel 8086 running at 5MHz, instead of the IBM’s 8088. It also had quad density floppy drives (720K per disk) and a really nice keyboard. Graphics were very high resolution, with 3 bit planes and up to 720×300 resolution. As you can see from the photo, there were versions of Lotus 1-2-3 custom made for it, as well as all of Microsoft’s apps and compilers. There was even a version of TurboPascal for it!
I still remember when Dad brought this baby home. We had just finished out some rooms in the basement of our house, with one of them designated as “the office”. He and I set up the machine, along with the TI Model 850 printer (the one in the photo is a Model 880, with the font ROM cartridges).
It was a really slick system. Dual floppy drives, 256K of RAM (!), dot matrix printer… it was a screamer.
Problem was, I wasn’t allowed to touch it.
Not immediately, anyway.
Remember, Dad came from the world of data processing. Not “information technology”, not “IT”—data processing. He didn’t see a computer as creative tool. It was a machine for running numbers. Data in, data out. That’s what it was for. And how did you do that?
Yup, here it comes.
COBOL.
The edict came down: my sister and I were not allowed to touch the computer, until we had completed a workbook that he got for us about structured COBOL. In fact, that was the title: “Structured COBOL”. I think still have that blasted thing around here somewhere, lurking the bottom of a box of other half-remembered stuff from almost thirty years ago. (That’s not the cover, although if O’Reilly had been publishing books about COBOL in 1982, I daresay that’s what the cover would look like.)
Meanwhile, my friends were learning all they could about computers. We were the first “computer generation”. My friends were experimenting with Commodore 64s and the TRS-80s at school. What was I doing at the time?
This:
IDENTIFICATION DIVISION.
PROGRAM-ID. KILL-ME-PLEASE.
PROCEDURE DIVISION.
DISPLAY 'My name is John.'.
DISPLAY 'I am being forced to learn COBOL.'.
DISPLAY 'Shoot me before I create another PICture clause!'.
STOP RUN.
It was enough to make my ears bleed. However, I gave it the old college try, but soon realized that I had as much patience for learning COBOL as I do for just about anything else in this world: none whatsoever. It sickened my soul to know that the tools I needed to express myself in new ways were sitting unused in the basement, and only because I couldn’t muster up so much as a molecule of concern about ISAM indexed files. This state of affairs was intolerable, and I was resolved to do whatever I could to resolve the situation in my favor. Of course, this meant sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to use the computer when I should have been sleeping, but I wasn’t letting that stop me.
At least, not until I was discovered.
John Lotshaw Computers, General, Hardware, Software