Earlier this year the technology magazine WIRED had a ground-breaking story - hospitals still use pneumatic tubes! I was reminded of how my fascination with pneumatic tubes began over 10 years ago now, by realising, that yes, hospitals use pneumatic tubes!
WIRED reports that the technology may seem "wonky and antiquated" but is surprisingly used in hospitals across the US. Just like other technologies, they state, the systems are prone to hacking. We've seen other cases of that in this blog, such as robbers trying to steal money from pneumatic tube cash points (and getting their arms stuck in the attempt).
The threat of the hacks has been taken seriously because of the vital role that pneumatic tube systems play in modern day healthcare, moving the increasing number of tests and samples taken around hospital buildings. The hacks on the system could be on digital infrastructures guiding the tubes or on the hardware systems through the online manipulation of robotic arms or blowers.
The pneumatic tube systems and hospitals are on to it, looking into how to avoid such cyberattacks on these important infrastructural systems, systems that can work smoothly and so well that it is easy to forget the potential weaknesses in them as well.
Photo: my own, from one of my first visits to a hospital pneumatic tube system in Melbourne, Australia
It was just a just another day at the movies, and what drops into my lap but an unexpected pneumatic post delivery!
Actually, it wasn't just a normal day, it was the first time my son had been to the cinema. We chose a pretty low-key film, the summer 2021 Buurman en Buurman release, a selection of several 2020 episodes put together. The beautiful stop-motion series is one of my favourite kids series - I can watch these two Czech tinkerers make their amazing contraptions and solutions and mistakes over and over.
In classic Buurman style, the episode in question (episode 9 in season 10: "Potrubní pošta") involved Pat and Mat (the tinkerers) solving a puzzle - this time how to share tools - only to create all sorts of mayhem in the solution with the answer being a wonderful, there-the-whole time ending: "A je to!".
The tube system is gorgeous, duct tape and all, and will be the envy of anyone contemplating their own home system.
Monica Meijer from Cinemagazine is another fan of the episode - she writes in her review:
Één van de leukste filmpjes is ‘Buizenpost’ waarin de modus operandi van de twee vrienden misschien wel op zijn toppunt is. De klussende buurmannen moeten om de haverklap bij elkaar langskomen voor het lenen van gereedschap en materiaal. Dat moet toch makkelijker kunnen? Het in de basis goede idee wordt echter door hun manier van denken om zeep geholpen, en terwijl aan het eind van het filmpje de oplossing zó voor de hand ligt, zien ze deze niet. Ach, eigenlijk maar goed ook: want door de kromme gedachtegang van Buurman & Buurman zijn we er in ieder geval van verzekerd dat de makers nog genoeg inspiratie hebben voor volgende filmpjes.
Image above used under creative commons from Wikipedia.
Last summer I opened up a Wikipedia account and made my first Wiki edits, to the Pneumatic Tube Wikipedia page.
I am becoming more and more interested in how knowledge is generated in open formats, with increasing frustration of the limited nature of knowledge translation in much of academia. I was also thinking about who and what is written about on the Wikipedia pages, highlighted for example in the Women in Red Project, to write more female histories. And finally, with no travel destinations possible, I was itching to try something new, to learn how to do something I hadn't done before.
So I learned how to navigate the site and added what I found interesting and missing from it - movies, some details of where tubes are currently used, works of literature - and waited. Because that is the think about Wikipedia, it is moderated so closely that not much goes up without some consideration, either by a bot or an editor. I understood a bit about this from an article I wrote with Sally Wyatt and Susan Kelly on the Wikipedia page on schizophrenia, called "Controversy goes online: Schizophrenia genetics on Wikipedia" but it was the first time I was having a go as an editor.
It wasn't long before I saw in the Talk pages (that amazing tab behind any entry, that is definitely worth diving into!), that an editor had taken down most of my edits (redundancy, referring to previous discussions, and stating lack of citation/literature). I am so happy that some stayed however, and that there is some evidence of my contribution, to this collaborative project, on writing about this technology. So I am not deterred, now just need to come back with more references!
My dad is writing comic books for his grandchildren and sending them in installments as quarantine entertainment. In the most recent one, "The Aquatic Adventures of Jooles the Mouse", Jooles lives in an old theatre in London, and rides the pneumatic tube around the building ...
I cannot blame the coronavirus pandemic for the lack of posts this year, but before I get onto cheerier topics, here is a public announcement from WHO:
Specifics for transport of samples to laboratory:
Ensure that personnel who transport specimens are trained in safe handling practices and spill decontamination procedures.
Follow the requirements in the national or international regulations for the transport of dangerous goods (infectious substances) as applicable.
Deliver all specimens by hand whenever possible. Do not use pneumatic-tube systems to transport specimens.
Currently my university is undergoing a cyber attack, and all email systems are down. It makes me wonder if this would happen if we corresponded by pneumatic tube rather than digitally. But of course pneumatic tube systems are not infallible alternatives. They also get hacked, broken into, breakdown and just well, get stuck.
This was the cause of news recently in the Montreal Gazette, because of the delays in patient care that blockages (due for example to spillages in the tube) and electrical faults were causing. The solution is more preventive maintenance. Hopefully my university can find a solution to their own communication problem they are having this Christmas - as much as we all complain about email it might be difficult to send all our correspondence by hand instead.
The digital minimalist Cal Newport starts his New Yorker essay on email, with a description of the pneumatic tube network of C.I.A central headquarters in Langley, Virginia. You can read my previous posts about the C.I.A pneumatic networks here and on the C.I.A webpage. Newport includes some nice details about the system and its closure, including a pin that some staff wore that read "Save the Tubes" (mental note to find that photo! and make the pin?) but his main point is to show how this was an early example of "asynchronous communication":
"The C.I.A.’s tube system is a defining example of one of the major
technological movements of the twentieth century: the push to create
what communication specialists call “asynchronous messaging” in the
workplace.... Asynchronous communication ... doesn’t require the receiver to
be present when a message is sent. I can send a message to you whenever
I want; you answer it at your leisure."
"As message slips piled up on office desks, what seemed to be missing was
a system of practical asynchronous messaging: a way for me to send you a
message when it was convenient for me, and for you to read that message
when it was convenient for you, all at speeds less sluggish than that
of intra-office mail. If such a system could be built, managers thought,
then efficient non-real-time collaboration would become possible: no
more missed-call slips, no more waiting for the mail cart. In the
emerging age of large offices, practical asynchrony seemed like a
productivity silver bullet. This belief motivated investment in projects
such as the C.I.A.’s pneumatic-tube network."
Of course the C.I.A's system was not an early example of its kind, there were larger, older postal and communication systems across Europe and elsewhere. But Newport does point to an important element that links pneumatic systems and email, which is their asynchronicity, designed to streamline workflow.
In his 1980s film Brazil, Terry Gillam captures perfectly what it feels to have your work streamlined in this way:
Newport writes that "the enthusiastic embrace of asynchronous communication" has created the email monster that many of us have to deal with in our workplaces. He writes that email users check their inbox on average every six minutes. Pneumatic post was also a much more frequent form of postal delivery for its time, with mail deliveries throughout the day. Was this also felt as an intrusion by correspondents?
I remember when email was pure joy - my first email account as an undergraduate university student in the mid 1990s, that I used to contact doctors and researchers in clinics in Mauritius and Canada to organise research and clinical visits. We had a computer laboratory at the university, where we would hang out
infrequently, maybe once or twice a week, to send a few emails. As my cohort travelled around the world to our different placements in medical school, we would arrange meet-ups via email. We wrote long letters to each other and back home, rich descriptions of our time away and our observations. When I got back home I printed the emails out and kept them in a box with postcards.
Once working as a doctor I encountered pagers and palm pilots, but only used the computer to write discharge summaries. My phone was for work purposes, not to send messages. And now I find myself in 2019, alongside so many others, hating yet beholden to email. Time away from the thing is punished with more emails. Answers give more questions. Like the main character of Brazil, you stuff one email into the system, only to have five more catapult into your inbox with a thud.
What might happen I wonder, if we turned the vacuum onto itself, as he does in Brazil - what would the digital equivalent of the scene of paper falling from the ceiling tubes in the officeplace look like? Or does this in fact just happen everyday that our computer freezes or the system says "no", and while we wait for the fix, more emails just arrive in the inbox.
I spent a three weeks in Toronto recently, and stayed on the 36th floor of a downtown apartment building. It felt high, really high considering I had been living in the Netherlands for so long now. I had to put my garbage down a chute and spent hours of my trip waiting for and riding elevators. It got me thinking about pneumatic tube systems though, and how they traverse vertical distances so efficiently, more efficiently it feels than people or garbage.
It reminded me too of the article "That time Toronto had a system of Pneumatic Mail Tubes", which describes the revolution that the pneumatic tube systems built in the 1930s brought to communication between the city's newspaper, the Toronto Star, and the city hall. The system was a collaboration between the rail, telecommunication and newspaper heavyweights of Canada. Chris Bateman, author of the article in BlogTO, writes that:
In a rare show of co-operation in 1928, Canadian Pacific and Canadian
Nation Railways laid what would become the foundation of the Toronto Star and Telegram
system by running an elaborate 4,500-metre pneumatic tube network from
their respective transmitting offices - at Yonge and Melinda and Bay and
Temperance - down Bay to Postal Station A at Union Station. A small
spur connected to the mail room at the Royal York Hotel ... Manholes every 300 feet down Bay provided access to the 2 1/4-inch
copper tubes - which were laid on a concrete foundation and encased in
creosoted wood - in case a canister became stuck.
Two years later, the Star and Telegram joined the
pneumatic mail system, installing two sets of pipe in parallel down Bay
Street. At its extent, the system included 7 properties, though there
was no central exchange and most were only connected to one other place. It's not clear when the pneumatic tubes fell into disuse. The Royal York
still has the transparent pipes of its internal system on display but,
sadly, its staff have found more convenient (though infinitely less
exciting) ways of getting messages through the giant old building."
I always seem to come across or remember these articles when it is too late and I write this now from back home in Maastricht, trying to remember if I saw any manholes on the street which would have provided access to those tubes. Probably not, I was too busy looking skyward, in awe of all those tall buildings.
Communications museums are intriguing places. They are museums of something we take so much for granted, something that seems so ephemeral, that changes so quickly, that it is difficult to materialise in exhibitions.
There are many wonderful communications museums
I have visited around the world. I get excited about how each museum addresses the
challenges above, and how they try and find material traces of
communication in different places of that particular site.
I couldn't believe that I hadn't yet visited one of our local Dutch communication museums, COMM in Den Haag, and just happened to be in the area recently when renewing a passport. What great luck, with a few spare hours before we needed to come home, especially as they had a wonderful pneumatic tube display (apparently, according to Wendeline who I bought my tickets from and who kindly explained a bit about the museum, the most popular part of the museum with visitors). Even luckier but also perhaps sadder, it was the last day the museum was open to the public.
So I have included some photos below, for those that will not have the chance to visit in the future. You can also read the museum's post about the buizenpost here. The museum is however open for events, so I am already plotting for a pneumatic tube conference - stay tuned and posted! (and let me know if you are interested)
Visitors had the chance, once travelling through the four floors of the museum to write themselves a message and send it via pneumatic tube to the first floor.
There all the messages were then posted onto a board for visitors to read.
The museum also had a beautifully designed cafe, with what I presume were donors' names (but could be otherwise) on coloured postal boxes, and stamps on the lockers.
This Sunday I was reminded of all the great blogposts on pneumatic tubes, by a retweet from the author Dennis Cooper, about one of his posts from 2017. There are so many others, many already covered here.
One that I haven't yet mentioned is UnTapped Cities' post called An Illustrated History of NYC's pneumatic tubes, an excerpt basically from Julia Wertz' Illustrated History of NYC, which I have loved revisiting while drawing the illustrations for my current book (not on pneumatic tubes, though hopefully that is to come one day soon).
Annabel Crabb hosts, along with Leigh Sales, one of my favourite podcasts Looks 10 Chat 3. She also hosts the TV show called "The House", about Parliament House in Australia, which shows, to quote her in ABC:
"the manic behind-the-scenes activity among attendants corralling
amendments as they are drafted and debated, and using the Willy
Wonka-esque Lamson Tube, a pneumatic message chute, to ping amendments
back to the Senate Table Office."
Check out one or both this Christmas. Thanks to my father-in-law Trevor for sending the newspaper cut out about the show.
For those in the Northern Hemisphere, some pneumatic tube beats to accompany your hammock G&T or if you are down south and trying to stay warm, your favourite whiskey (thanks Thomas!)
Yesterday I went to a seminar organised at my university (Maastricht University) by the Department of Knowledge Engineering, to celebrate 25 years of their work on artificial intelligence. One of the presenters Andreas Weigend was a former scientist at Amazon, the digital company now gone physical.
While everyone is talking about the innovations of Amazon at the moment, an article in The Atlantic argues that we should be looking at an earlier company, Sears, as one of the significant forerunners of the Amazon revolution.
Sears started as a mailing company, with watches, and quickly grew. To manage it's mail order business it built "massive warehouses, like its
central facility in Chicago, in which messages to various departments
and assembly workers were sent through pneumatic tubes".
The logistics of such organisations are fascinating as they grow and evolve with the times, the materiality of the movement of objects no less important now, despite email and other digital messages.
Image of Sears Roebuck
& Company Mail Order Plant basement, Section H of the pneumatic tube network, Chicago, from Library of Congress.
Quick follow-up on my last blogpost - Richard Griffen offers a much more personal review of The Post, in the Wicked Local:
When I was a child, that Post was the largest newspaper in New
England, and it was also where my father worked. Newspapers were central
to our world.
After my freshman year in college, I had a summer
job as a copy boy at another paper, The Boston Globe. Along with one or
two other young men, I stood by a pneumatic tube in the newsroom,
waiting to send typewritten pages upstairs to the composing room.
In
this digital age, of course, such jobs no longer exist. But they did in
1971, and in “The Post,” Spielberg shows us a world of pneumatic tubes
and metallic type, when people counted on papers for the latest news.
One of my summer jobs was typing letters on an electronic typewriter in my dad's architectural office. I used the keyboard skills taught to me in my typewriter classes in my catholic all-girls' highschool, learning QWERTY and space bars and what to do with mistakes. I can still hear in my ears Mrs Skippington's singsong voice orchestrating us girls in synchronised typing. I guess that job doesn't exist these days either.
Photo of a hospital's "Typewriter Graveyard" from Jonathan Haeber's Flickr page, used under the creative commons lisence.
It happens in the climactic scene. The Washington Post has decided to go ahead and print a story that could potentially ruin them. The articles are typed frantically in the editor's living room, while the editor's daughter sells them lemonade. The articles are rushed to the copy editor, and then, the moment comes, are shot through the pneumatic tube system to the printers.
And so pneumatic tubes appear at a pivotal moment in yet another movie, this time The Post.
"Few will be immune to the romance that lies at the center of a
movie that takes as much delight in pneumatic tubes, linotype machines
and telexes trailing like bridal veils as it does in temperamental
opposites finding common purpose in the institution to which they’re
both truly, madly and deeply devoted. 'The Post' works on many
levels, from polemic and thinly veiled cautionary tale to fun period
piece and rip-roaring newspaper yarn. But at its most gratifying, it’s a
love story, from the lede to the kicker."
The Post indeed could be read as a romantic eulogy to technologies lost or dying. Although, as we know, pneumatic tubes are alive and well. They just aren't rushing copy to the printers anymore, just as those newspapers are no longer thudding on our doorsteps on Saturday mornings.
Some useful glossary that might help with the above, from inside my recently purchased Field Notes Reporter's Notebook:
Lede: "an attention-grabbing first graf, summarizing the 'who, what, when, where, and why' of an article. Don't 'bury' this!"
Kicker: "a final graf that ties up a piece with wit and flair"
Graf: "abbreviation of 'paragraph'"
Image from the New Zealand Herald Manual of Journalism, first in my blogpost "In the Newsroom". For more on pneumatics in newsrooms, see my other post "Reporting on the Pneus"
It might be the biggest bubble in history, but one thing is for sure, it is hard to avoid talk about cryptocurrency at the moment.
How to buy the magic coins? Pneumatic tube!
This is an except from one of my favourite podcasts, Gimlet's Reply All (dubbed by The Guardian as “‘A podcast about the internet’ that is actually an unfailingly original
exploration of modern life and how to survive it.), from the most recent episode no. 115 called The Bitcoin Hunter, where the hosts of the show attempt to track down Jia's lost bitcoins.
LEX: So, can you explain to me, to the best of your memory,
like exactly the process of buying the bitcoin and then buying the
drugs?
JIA: Yes, OK. Uh, there are gonna be big holes here. (laughs) ALEX: (laughs) JIA: OK. So I downloaded Tor… And then I looked at the Silk Road, and I said, “OK, I’m gonna try and get some bitcoin and make an account and do this.” And
then I remember taking my boyfriend’s car to the Bank of America drive
through, putting like, you know, what I think might have been $80, in a
little pneumatic tube, it getting sucked up the pneumatic tube— ALEX: Wait a minute, you deposited money– JIA: Yeah. ALEX: Cash, American, US dollars. JIA: Absolutely, absolutely. ALEX: Via pneumatic tube– JIA: Yeah, yeah I did. ALEX: At a normal bank– JIA: Yeah, is that? I think that’s what I was supposed to do.
ALEX: I think that was actually just her putting money in
her bank account. Either way, she goes home, gets on the internet, just
like, the regular internet, not the dark web, and she goes to this
thing called a bitcoin exchange, think of it as a bank.
Head to the link above to listen to the rest of the podcasts, it is truly fascinating stuff ...
Bank drive thru pneumatic tube image from Derek Dysar's Flickr account, used under the Creative Commons lisence.
It's almost Christmas and one thing I will be doing plenty of over the holidays, is playing games. I like board games, and am still dreaming of a pneumatic tube themed game - maybe Ticket to Ride meets Metro? - but for those who like their games on a screen, you might want to check out SteamWorld Dig 2, which, according to Venture Beat,"is impossible to put down" and includes a pneumatic tube ride for those who can unlock it.
Happy holidays playing whatever games you like to play!
Image from Julochka's Flickr used under the Creative Commons lisence.
A new speakeasy has opened up in town, serving delicious cocktails in a warm stony basement. Mostly I see groups of friends and a few couples enjoying the cloistered space. They seem to be having a good time but what I haven't seen is any flirting between the groups over their whiskey sours. In Berlin in the 1920s, there was plenty of nightclub flirting, and pneumatic tubes were central to how love letters would be sent from table to table.
Atlas Obscura called it the Tinder of the 20th Century. Their recent article talks about the Resi and the Femina, the first which I have written about previously on this blog.
Fascinatingly the article discusses how the notes passed by the tubes were first censored in the switchroom, described as an early form of comment moderation, and that among the many gifts that people could send to each other were perfume and cocaine. Atlas Obscura also makes the connection between the tubes and the telephone song in Cabaret, the first song I know about with a pneumatic theme.
Now I have a child there is a floor of the library where I am spending a lot more time - the children's section in the basement of our local public library. We mostly go there to borrow board books but I am interested in how a library in St Louis County is attracting children in other ways - through pneumatic tubes.
The Florissant Valley Library have recently renovated their children's section with a wall of pneumatic tubes, I guess to show how book slips or other objects travel. I can't tell from the photos whether children or adults can send things themselves through the tubes, it would be interesting to find out.
There are lots of photos of the renovation, under copyright, at the Library's Flickr page.
While there is a lot going on at the moment with the Hyperloop including new routes announced around the world, carving up the world map like a big Ticket to Ride board (I can see the Hyperloop boardgame already), more funding and Richard Branson joining the scene, in coming posts I want to look at where pneumatic tubes have been appearing lately in other news.
As I start winter with old episodes of West Wing, sent to me in the post on DVD by my mum, a good place to start is the Library of Congress Book Tunnel, which Atlas Obscura recently showcased. The building opened to the public in 1898 and it soon became clear that there was the:
Serious question how some senator,
for instance, in the heat of a fiery debate on the floor, could in the
shortest space of time get to his hand some particular volume whose
authority would unhorse his antagonist - a volume nestled, perhaps, deep
in the shelves of the library, a quarter of a mile away.
Pneumatic tubes were the answer, thanks to the Miles Pneumatic Tube Company. Requests for the documents would be sent via tube, and then the texts whisked back. As Obscura write, "this whole literary
orchestra took just five minutes, likely less time than it would take
your average contemporary congressman to pull up an arcane PDF through LOC.gov."
Alas, a century later the pneumatic system closed down, although apparently a tunnel remains where you can still see librarians wheeling those old-fashioned things called books around on carts.
Pneumatic post is a place to file notes about the life of pneumatic tube systems (particularly in hospitals) alongside other postal, medical and museum related discoveries.
Pneumatic tube systems are systems of pipes used to transport solid objects by vacuum. Once resplendent in European and American cities, they are now mostly used in hospitals, banks, pharmacies and other networked institutions. I would love to hear your comments, on the blog or by email: a.harris@maastrichtuniversity.nl
