In the 1970s a fascinating engineering battle took place between America and Japan for control of the future. The prize was the world we live in now. And one of the key battles took place on your wrist.
This is the story of the digital watch... #FridayFeeling
'Digital' is a magical marketing word. Like 'laser' or 'turbo' it suggests progress, mastery and the future. People like those ideas. They like them enough to spend a lot of money on products that have them, especially if they can be a first adopter.
And so it was with the wristwatch. Electronic quartz watches were already a thing by the 1960s: an analogue movement driven by a quartz crystal resonator, powered by a small button battery.
But one American company was setting out on a new timekeeping odyssey...
The Hamilton Watch Company had already collaborated with Stanley Kubrick to develop digital clocks and futuristic watches for 2001: A Space Odyssey. Whilst the watches had analogue movement, the clocks - eventually cut from the film - were fully digital.
Hamilton ran with the idea, and in May 1970, on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, they unveiled the future of time: the Hamilton Pulsar Time Computer. America had just landed on the Moon; now it would conquer the personal digital future.
Hamilton Pulsar chose to use light emitting diodes (LED) for their watch display, just like many calculators did in the early 1970s. It was a proven technology, unlike its newer rival the liquid crystal display (LCD).
That would prove to be a fateful decision later on...
In 1972 the Pulsar Time Computer launched to a rapturous reception: it was so futuristic! A quartz timebase signal fed a set of signal counter chips that controlled five LEDs illuminating a row of seven-segment displays. It was like having Apollo Mission Control on your arm.
But... The LEDs were so power hungry it could only show the time if you pressed a button. It also cost more than a Rolex: $2,100! And you had to buy it from Tiffany's. But Richard Nixon had one. So did James Bond. That meant Pulsar was the new status symbol.
Soon Commodore, Hewlett-Packard, Motorola and Intel all joined Pulsar on the LED bandwaggon. By 1975 America was dominating the digital watch world and prices were coming down too. Everybody was happy!
Meanwhile, in Japan...
Seiko had been a pioneer of quartz controlled timekeeping: their quartz clocks were used at the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. But they were certain that LED was the wrong technology for watch displays.
They preferred liquid crystal displays - more complex but potentially more versatile.
Liquid crystal doesn't emit light but it can block it. Put it between two polarised filters and apply a current and the liquid crystal can create shapes that block out parts of the backlight - shapes like numbers or letters. It's complicated stuff!
Seiko launched their first LCD watch, the 06LC, in 1973. A field-effect liquid crystal display showed six digits of time continuously - you didn't need to press a button. Maybe the display wasn't as bright as an LED watch, but it wasn't as expensive.
And in 1974 Casio made its move into digital watches with the Casiotron. Using the new twisted nematic LCDs from its calculator range the Casiotron was a handsome, neat and robust design that looked like a traditional wristwatch. It also had a unique feature: a digital calendar!
In 1975 Seiko launched the 0634, the first digital quartz watch with a chronograph that could measure to a tenth of a second.
Between them Seiko and Casio had honed in on the future of watches - clever digital gadgets.
The US hit back with its own innovation: the digital watch calculator. Pulsar and Hewlett-Packard released models with keypads so small you needed a stylus to operate them. In contrast the 1975 Uranus Calculator watch put its keypad on the bezel.
By 1976 the US had reached peak LED: over 70 manufacturers were providing digital watches in a wide range of designs - some good, some not so great.
But very soon the LED bubble would burst - and price would be the pin that popped it.
In 1977 Texas Instruments, a recent entrant to the market, cut its price for LED watches to under $10. As a vertically integrated company it could still make a profit - but few of its competitors could.
The LED watch market began to collapse...
In comparison Seiko had fully automated its watch production, diversified into quartz analogue as well as LCD digital, and continued to innovate with new watch features. In 1979 it bought the now-defunct Pulsar brand. LCD was king!
Throughout the 1980s both Casio and Seiko continued to make LCD watches smarter. In 1980 Casio launched the Game-10, which let you play space invaders, as well as the C-80 - a calculator watch with a keypad you could actually use.
In 1982 Seiko launched the incredible T001 TV watch - a TV on your wrist! James Bond had one of course, but so could you - though you needed a walkman-sized portable receiver to plug it into.
Over the years manufacturers have tried to cram everything they could into a digital watch: radios, video games, computers, GPS, health monitors.
But if truth be told they probably got it just right in 1983...
...with the Casio G-Shock DW-5000C. Designer Kikuo Ibe had been heartbroken when his first digital watch fell and smashed, so he decided to build one that couldn't crack. The rest, as they say, is history.
More stories another time.
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It was the biggest manhunt in Britain: police, the press, aeroplanes, psychics all tried to solve the disappearance. In the end nobody really knew what happened. It was a mystery without a solution.
This is the story of Agatha Christie's 11 lost days...
By 1926 Agatha Christie's reputation as a writer was starting to grow. Her sixth novel - The Murder of Roger Ackroyd - had been well-received and she and her husband Archie had recently concluded a world tour. But all was not well with the marriage.
In April 1926 Agatha Christie’s mother died. Christie was very close to her: she had been home-schooled and believed her mother was clairvoyant. The shock of her sudden death hit the author hard.
Many readers have asked me over the years what my definition of pulp is. I've thought about it a lot, and the definition I keep coming back to... well it may surprise you.
Let me try and set it out.
There are lots of definitions of pulp out there: in books, in academic papers and on the web. And most circle back to the same three points: the medium, the story type and the method of writing.
Pulp is of course a type of cheap, coarse paper stock. Its use in magazine production from the 1890s onwards led to it becoming a shorthand term for the kind of fiction found in low cost story magazines.
let's take a look at the extraordinary work of Victorian illustrator and cat lover Louis Wain!
Louis Wain was born in London in 1860. Although he is best known for his drawings of cats he started out as a Victorian press illustrator. His work is highly collectable.
Wain had a very difficult life; born with a cleft lip he was not allowed to attend school. His freelance drawing work supported his mother and sisters after his father died. Aged 23 he married his sisters' governess, Emily Richardson, 10 years his senior.
Over the years a number of people have asked me if I have a favourite pulp film. Well I do. It's this one.
This is the story of Alphaville...
Alphaville: une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution (1965) was Jean-Luc Godard’s ninth feature film. A heady mix of spy noir, science fiction and the Nouvelle Vague at its heart is a poetic conflict between a hard-boiled secret agent and a supercomputer’s brave new world.
British writer Peter Cheyney had created the fictitious American investigator Lemmy Caution in 1936. As well as appearing in 10 novels Caution featured in over a dozen post-war French films, mostly played by singer Eddie Constantine whom Godard was keen to work with.
Al Hartley may have been famous for his work on Archie Comics, but in the 1970s he was drawn to a very different scene: God.
Today in pulp I look back at Hartley's work for Spire Christian Comics - a publisher that set out to spread the groovy gospel...
Spire Christian Comics was an offshoot of Spire Books, a mass-market religious paperback line launched in 1963 by the Fleming H. Revell company. The point of Spire Books was to get religious novels into secular stores, so a move into comic books in 1972 seemed a logical choice.
The idea was to create comic book versions of popular Spire Books like The Cross and the Switchblade; David Wilkinson's autobiographical tale of being a pastor in 1960s New York. It had already been turned into a film, but who could make it into a comic?