The IBM MT/ST (look it up) was the machine upon which Len Deighton wrote the first word-processed novel. It was large, expensive and heavy, and was built around the IBM Selectric (“golf ball”) typewriter.

At a newspaper, you printed text on coated paper, cut out the copy with an X-Acto knife, placed hot wax on the back, and affixed it to a cardboard form with a roller.

Thus it was that this clumsy soul was frequently advised, by John Hanzel and Bill Roberts, among others, “Don’t bleed on the copy.” My frequent finger cuts threatened the pristine text, which would have to be reprinted if bloodied.

Hot wax got on our tilted glass composing table; the only solvent that removed it was carbon tetrachloride. I loved the smell and would sniff it. Essentially, I was sniffing glue. Luckily I a) didn’t do it often, b) didn’t get hooked and c) apparently didn’t destroy my liver.

In today’s computerized world, text is never long or short because of computer layout. That wasn’t true in 1973. We used Wizard of Id panels to fill in when text (we called it copy) ran short. Professionals had other ways to fill the space, with bus plunges or Japanese earthquakes.

The whole series: Things No One Will Ever Do Again: Set Type.