(Roughly) Daily

Posts Tagged ‘telegraph

“It is impossible to win gracefully at chess. No man has yet said “Mate!” in a voice which failed to sound to his opponent bitter, boastful and malicious.”*…

… but perhaps the offense is muted if the call is remote.

Electronic gaming is huge– and growing, As Rolling Stone reports

The gaming industry, fueled by platforms like Twitch and YouTube, has surged into a multi-billion-dollar powerhouse, projected to exceed $207 billion in 2026. These platforms do more than showcase gameplay—they cultivate vibrant, interactive communities where fans engage in real time, from live chats to virtual watch parties. Games like League of Legends, Call of Duty, Counter-Strike and Fortnite have become a cultural phenomenon, drawing in over 2.6 billion gamers globally, a number that continues to climb each year. Mobile gaming, accounting for over 60% of global gaming revenue, plays a significant role in this growth, making gaming accessible to a broader audience than ever before…

But as Danny Robb explains, using tecnology to play games remotely has a long history…

In 1897, the United States House of Representatives held a series of chess matches to find their most skilled players. The five winners were pitted against counterparts in the British House of Commons. But while the Americans sat down to play in Washington, D.C., their opponents sat in London. The players received moves by telegraph, and sent responses back over wires that crossed the Atlantic.

By this point, “cable chess” had been slowly evolving for decades. Historian Simone Müller-Pohl argues that this form of long-distance chess play offers insight into the cultural and political currents of the industrial era.

By the mid-nineteenth century, she explains, there was a growing sports culture in Europe and the US. Industrial technologies enabled more people to attend games and follow along from a distance. A growing middle class fostered this sporting culture, which came to include chess.

“Weekly,” Müller-Pohl explains, “the liberal and intellectual elites of the time assembled around chess boards in Paris, Berlin, Warsaw, Vienna, Moscow, Rome, and London.” Interest in the game spread, and chess clubs emerged. As clubs arranged tournaments and standardized chess rules, Müller-Pohl argues that chess “was gradually turned into a sport.”

Correspondence chess grew along with the game, in part thanks to cheap and efficient postal services. When the telegraph emerged on the scene, the application to chess was almost immediate.

“It was telegraphy’s fathers who pulled the strings behind the first schemes for cable chess,” Müller-Pohl explains. In 1844, inventor Samuel Morse arranged chess matches on a new telegraph line between Baltimore and Washington, D.C. “All of the 686 moves necessary for the seven games played were transmitted without mistake or interruption,” Müller-Pohl writes.

Not long after, in 1845, inventor Charles Wheatstone attended a demonstration in London. Chess legend Howard Staunton played against his rival George Walker over the South Western Railway line between Portsmouth and London. Müller-Pohl describes how witnesses found the match “rather tedious,” but it received a lot of press. This was partly the point—the matches demonstrated and advertised the capabilities and accuracy of the invention.

The Staunton match had another interesting aspect. Müller-Pohl points out that “the lines were still used for ordinary traffic during the games, allowing a group of chess players from Southampton to have every move telegraphed to them.” A bit like modern e-sports, spectators could observe the virtual match…

The early history of e-gaming– when telegraph cables let chess clubs stage matches across continents, linking players and spectators in a new kind of long-distance competition: “The First E-Sports? Chess by Telegraph,” from @inverting-vision.bsky.social in @jstordaily.bsky.social.

* A. A. Milne

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As we note that what’s old is new again, we might recall that it was on this date in 1958 that Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” was released. It peaked at number two on the Hot R&B Sides chart and number eight on its pre-Billboard Hot 100 chart. Considered “the first rock & roll hit about rock & roll stardom”, it has been covered by many, many other artists and has received many, many honors and accolades, among them being ranked 33rd and 7th, respectively, on Rolling Stone’s 2021 and 2004 lists of 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. It was also included as one of the 27 songs on the Voyager Golden Record (a collection of music, images, and sounds designed to serve as an introduction and record of global humanity’s achievements, innovations and culture, to alien/otherworldly inhabitants).

Apropos the piece above, it was released by Chess Records.

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“Small irritations can lead to exaggerated reactions”*…

A historical black and white photograph of a group of lumberjacks posing in front of a log cabin, showcasing traditional attire and tools from the late 19th century.

From the annals of abnormal behavior…

In the late 19th century, a rare and highly unusual neuropsychiatric condition was observed among a group of French-Canadian lumberjacks living in the Moosehead Lake region of northern Maine. Those affected exhibited an extreme and exaggerated startle reflex. When startled by a sudden movement or loud noise, they reacted with dramatic involuntary responses, such as leaping into the air, screaming, repeating words, or instantly obeying shouted commands. It was reported that the “jumpers” were primarily of French descent, born in Canada, and worked as lumbermen in the Maine woods.

The mystery of the Jumping Frenchmen of Maine first drew the attention of the scientific community in 1878, when prominent American neurologist George Miller Beard informed members of the American Neurological Association at its annual meeting that he had heard accounts of these lumberjacks and their unusual nervous condition. Two years later, Beard himself travelled to the Moosehead Lake region to see first-hand if the accounts were true. He wasn’t disappointed…

I found two of the Jumpers employed about the hotel. With one of them, a young man twenty-seven years of age, I made the following experiments:

1. While sitting in a chair, with a knife in his hand, with which he was about to cut his tobacco, he was struck sharply on the shoulder, and told to “throw it.” Almost as quick as the explosion of a pistol, he threw the knife, and it stuck in a beam opposite; at the same time he repeated the order “throw it” with a certain cry as of terror or alarm.

2. A moment after, while filling his pipe with tobacco, he was again slapped on the shoulder and told to “throw it.” He threw the tobacco and the pipe on the grass, at least a rod away, with the same cry and the same suddenness and explosiveness of movement

After observing and examining many jumpers, Beard concluded that jumping was a type of nervous disorder. In a paper published in 1881, Beard wrote:

Jumping is a psychical or mental form of nervous disease, and is of a functional character. Its best analogue is psychical or mental hysteria, the so-called ‘servant-girl hysteria,’ as known to us in modern days, and as very widely known during the epidemics of the middle ages.

Beard surmised that the syndrome of jumping might be tied to tickling:

This disease was probably an evolution of tickling. Some, if not all, of the Jumpers, are ticklish—exceedingly so—and are easily irritated by touching them in sensitive parts of the body. It would appear that in the evenings, in the woods, after the day’s toil, in lieu of most other sources of amusement, the lumbermen have teased each other, by tickling, and playing, and startling timid ones, until there has developed this jumping, which, by mental contagion, and by practice, and by inheritance, has ripened into the full stage of the malady as it appears at the present hour.

Jumping was also found to be strongly tied to families indicating a genetic condition…

[There follow a series of accounts of “jumpers” in other locations (almost all timber-adjacent) and of the evolving explantions offered by experts, concluding…]

… In 1965, Reuben Rabinovitch, an assistant professor of neurology at McGill University, wrote a letter to the editor of the Canadian Medical Association Journal , where he described a children’s game he had witnessed in the Laurentian Mountains, north of Montreal. In this game, a child would secretly follow another, jab them in the ribs, and imitate the sound of a kicking horse. The “victim” was expected to respond by mimicking the sound, leaping into the air, and flinging their arms outward. This form of horseplay, he noted, often continued into adulthood, particularly in isolated villages or lumber camps where recreational outlets were scarce.

Rabinovitch concluded that the Jumping Frenchman syndrome was not a neurological disorder per se, but rather a conditioned reflex that developed out of the monotony and social isolation of life in lumber camps. According to this interpretation, the behaviour became institutionalized within a close-knit community as a form of interaction and entertainment. When the traditional logging camps gradually disappeared, so too did the jumping behaviour.

Further support for this view came in 1986, when two Canadian neurologists and a psychologist studied eight individuals in Quebec who exhibited jumping behaviours. The researchers found that all of the men had developed the condition during adolescence, shortly after beginning work in lumber camps. They reported being teased and provoked by other workers until the jumping behaviour became ingrained.

Based on this evidence, some scholars have argued that the Jumping Frenchman syndrome is not a medical condition or a case of collective hysteria, but a classic case of operant conditioning —a learned behaviour reinforced by social stimuli—that developed in a closed community.

The long and the short of it is that the Jumping Frenchmen of Maine may have more to do with human nature than with neurology. In the rough, close-knit world of lumber camps, where entertainment was scarce, a peculiar habit took hold, that slowly developed into a cultural quirk, or even a very strange joke that went too far. As the lifestyle that nurtured it faded, so did the jumping.

Nothing conclusive has yet been established. The National Organization for Rare Disorders (NORD) still lists Jumping as “an extremely rare disorder” with “no specific therapy”. While it acknowledges the theory of operant conditioning, NORD notes that some researchers believe that jumping Frenchmen of Maine may be a somatic neurological disorder, caused by a gene mutation that occurs after fertilization and is not inherited from the parents or passed on to children.

The organization concludes that further research is needed to understand the exact causes and underlying mechanisms of the Jumping Frenchmen of Maine, as well as other culturally-specific startle disorders…

The Jumping Frenchmen of Maine,” from @AmusingPlanet.

Vivek Murthy

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As we query curious comportment, we might send birthday greetings of uncertain provenance to Charles Thomas Jackson; he was born on this date in 1805. A physician and scientist, he was active in medicine, chemistry, mineralogy, and geology, in that lattermost of which he was particularly distinguished.

That said, he is probably best remembered for a series of spectacular claims he made to the work of others: the discovery of guncotton (Christian Friedrich Schönbein), the telegraph (Samuel F. B. Morse), the digestive action of the stomach (William Beaumont), and the anesthetic effects of ether (William T. G. Morton). These claims continued until, in 1873, he was hospitalized at McLean Hospital. It was widely believed at the time that the reason was mental illness, either through a seizure or having a manic episode upon seeing Morton’s tombstone.

In fact, Jackson had suffered a left brain stroke that affected his language area. While he never regained his speech, he was cooperative and did not exhibit “inappropriate behavior of insanity.” By unanimous vote of the McLean Asylum Trustees, Jackson was hosted as a guest at the hospital at no charge for the entire duration of his stay as a recognition of his [very real] past contributions.

A historical engraving of Charles Thomas Jackson, a 19th-century physician and scientist, depicted wearing glasses and a formal suit, with a beard and a serious expression.

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“If the world’s 223 international undersea cable systems were to suddenly disappear, only a minuscule amount of this traffic would be backed up by satellite, and the Internet would effectively be split between continents”*…

Your correspondent is hitting the road, so (Roughly) Daily will be a good bit more roughly than daily for a bit. Regular service should resume on or around May 6. Meantime, a fascinating– and meaty– piece to hold you…

Josh Dzieza goes deep on an undersung technology and the folks who keep it functioning…

The world’s emails, TikToks, classified memos, bank transfers, satellite surveillance, and FaceTime calls travel on cables that are about as thin as a garden hose. There are about 800,000 miles of these skinny tubes crisscrossing the Earth’s oceans, representing nearly 600 different systems, according to the industry tracking organization TeleGeography. The cables are buried near shore, but for the vast majority of their length, they just sit amid the gray ooze and alien creatures of the ocean floor, the hair-thin strands of glass at their center glowing with lasers encoding the world’s data. 

If, hypothetically, all these cables were to simultaneously break, modern civilization would cease to function. The financial system would immediately freeze. Currency trading would stop; stock exchanges would close. Banks and governments would be unable to move funds between countries because the Swift and US interbank systems both rely on submarine cables to settle over $10 trillion in transactions each day. In large swaths of the world, people would discover their credit cards no longer worked and ATMs would dispense no cash. As US Federal Reserve staff director Steve Malphrus said at a 2009 cable security conference, “When communications networks go down, the financial services sector does not grind to a halt. It snaps to a halt.”

Corporations would lose the ability to coordinate overseas manufacturing and logistics. Seemingly local institutions would be paralyzed as outsourced accounting, personnel, and customer service departments went dark. Governments, which rely on the same cables as everyone else for the vast majority of their communications, would be largely cut off from their overseas outposts and each other. Satellites would not be able to pick up even half a percent of the traffic. Contemplating the prospect of a mass cable cut to the UK, then-MP Rishi Sunak concluded, “Short of nuclear or biological warfare, it is difficult to think of a threat that could be more justifiably described as existential.”

Fortunately, there is enough redundancy in the world’s cables to make it nearly impossible for a well-connected country to be cut off, but cable breaks do happen. On average, they happen every other day, about 200 times a year. The reason websites continue to load, bank transfers go through, and civilization persists is because of the thousand or so people living aboard 20-some ships stationed around the world, who race to fix each cable as soon as it breaks…

The internet cables that knit the world together and the people that keep them working: “The Cloud Under the Sea,” from @joshdzieza in @verge. Eminently worth reading in full.

* Nicole Starosielski, The Undersea Network

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As we dive deep, we might send effectively-transmitted birthday greetings to a pioneer of telecommunications, Granville Woods; he was born on this date in 1856. An inventor, he held more than 50 patents, for innovations that ranged from a locomotive steam boiler to an egg incubator. But he is probably best remembered for his Synchronous Multiplex Railway Telegraph, a variation of the induction telegraph that relied on ambient static electricity from existing telegraph lines, allowing railroads to send messages between train stations and moving trains.

He is often referred to as the first African American mechanical and electrical engineer after the Civil War and as “the Black Edison” (sic).

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“Leaves of Three, Leave Them Be”*…

Pesky Pete Barron pulls out the poison Ivy plants and roots

Gabrielle Emanuel on the one of climate change’s winners– the hiker’s scourge, poison ivy…

Over a decade ago, when Peter Barron started removing poison ivy for a living, he decided to document his work.

“Every year I always take pictures of the poison ivy as it’s blooming,” said Barron, who is better known as Pesky Pete, of Pesky Pete’s Poison Ivy Removal.

He still remembers the photos he took of the very first tiny, red, shiny poison ivy leaves popping out in Massachusetts and southern New Hampshire.“

When I first started, it was May 10 or May 11,” he remembered. “I was so excited. I was like, ‘Wow, the season is here’.”

Now, if he lines up all his photos from 14 years, the first sighting comes almost a month earlier. In 2023, his first glimpse was on April 18.

Barron may have unwittingly documented an effect of climate change.

Poison ivy is poised to be one of the big winners in this global, human-caused phenomenon. Scientists expect the dreaded three-leafed vine will take full advantage of warmer temperatures and rising levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere to grow faster and bigger — and become even more toxic.

Experts who have studied this plant for decades warn there are likely to be implications for human health. They say hikers, gardeners, landscapers and others may want to take extra precautions — and get better at identifying this plant — to avoid an itchy, blistering rash…

Ugh: “Bigger, earlier and itchier: Why poison ivy loves climate change,” from @gabrieman and @WBUR.

* Adage

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As we cache cortisone cream, we might send carefully-calibrated birthday greetings to Guillaume Amontons; he was born on this date in 1663. A physicist and scientific instrument inventor, he developed the air thermometer – which relies on increase in volume of a gas (rather than a liquid) to measure temperature – and used it (in 1702) to measure change in temperature in terms of a proportional change in pressure. This observation led to the concept of absolute zero in the19th century. 

Deaf from childhood, Amontons worked on inventions for the hearing impaired, among them the first telegraph, which relied on a telescope, light, and several stations to transmit information over large distances. And Amontons’ laws of friction, relied upon by engineers for 300 years, state that the frictional force on a body sliding over a surface is proportional to the load that presses them together and is independent of the areas of the surfaces.

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“All good things must come to an end”*…

Rusty Foster reports that…

Matt Bors announced that The Nib is shutting down after its retroactively ironically themed final issue, “The Future.” “The Nib has published more than 6,000 comics and paid out more than $2 million to creators.” It will be replaced by: nothing, just another void where independent cultural criticism used to be…

Today in Tabs

The Nib will be online through August; you can still enjoy it’s extraordinary offerings (and buy its issues) until then. Happily Rusty’s Today in Tabs continues– one hopes for a long, long time…

[Image above: from KC Green‘s “This Is Not Fine,” on The Nib]

*  Geoffrey Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde

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As we bid a fond adieu, we might recall that it was on this date in 1844 that inventor (and celebrated painter) Samuel F.B. Morse inaugurated the first technological competitor to the post when he sent the first telegraph message:  “What hath God wrought?”  Morse sent the famous message from the B&O’s Mount Clare Station in Baltimore to the Capitol Building.  (The words were chosen by Annie Ellsworth, the daughter of the U.S. Patent Commissioner, from Numbers 23:23.)

Morse’s original apparatus

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Written by (Roughly) Daily

May 24, 2023 at 1:00 am