Director

Director (pronounced dih-rek-ter or dahy-rek-ter)

(1) A person or thing that directs others or other things (Director of Engineering, Director of Sales etc).

(2) In corporate law, one of a group of persons chosen to control or govern the affairs of a company or corporation, usually as a member of a board of directors and sometimes also including executive functions.

(3) The person responsible for the interpretive aspects of a stage, film, or television production; the person who supervises the integration of all the elements, as acting, staging, lighting etc.

(4) In musical or other artistic productions (stage, art galleries, opera etc) one in charge of all artistic (and sometimes administrative) matters (in larger operations the roles sometimes specialized: sound director, script director etc).

(5) The manager or chief executive of certain schools, institutes, government bureaux etc.

(6) In military use, a mechanical or electronic device that continuously calculates firing data for use against an airplane or other moving target, configured usually graphically to display (in real-time) the targets of a weapons system.

(7) In chemistry, the common axis of symmetry of the molecules of a liquid crystal.

(8) In music, a synonym for conductor (US use, now less common).

(9) A counsellor, confessor, or spiritual guide (now less common).

1470-1480: The construct was direct(us) + -or.  A borrowing in the sense of “a guide” from the Anglo French directour & the French directeur the agent noun from the Latin dirigere (set straight, arrange; give a particular direction to) and its source, the Late Latin directorem, from the Latin dīrectus, the perfect passive participle of dīrigō (straighten, direct), the construct being dis- (asunder, in pieces, apart, in two) + regō (to direct, to guide, keep straight; make straight; rule), from the primitive Indo-European root reg (move in a straight line).  The -or suffix was from the Middle English -our, from the Old French -eor, from the Latin -ātor and reinforced by the Old French -or and its source, the Latin -tor & -tōrem.  It was used to create an agent noun, often from a verb, indicating a person or object (often machines or parts of them) that do the verb or part of speech with which they are formed.  In electrical engineering it has the specific use of being appended to the names of members of classes of components, especially those that have an extensive property name of the same root suffixed with -ance (eg to convey the sense that resistors possess resistance and inductors possess inductance).  The alternative spelling directour became rare in the late eighteenth century and is long obsolete.  Director, directorate & directorship are nouns, directing is a verb, directed is a verb & adjective, directorial is an adjective and directorially is an adverb; the noun plural is directors.  The feminine forms of the noun (directress & directrix) were always rare and are now thought extinct (and by some probably proscribed).

Lindsay Lohan with Spanish fashion designer Estrella Arch (b 1974), on the catwalk, Emanuel Ungaro's Spring-Summer show, Paris, October 2009.  Ms Lohan was employed as a creative director at the House, founded in 1965 by French fashion designer Emanuel Ungaro (1933–2019).

The noun director (corporate sense of “one of a number of persons having authority to manage the affairs of a company” was known as early as the 1630s; the theatrical sense of “the leader of a company of performers” dates from 1911 and it was from here the use was picked up by those in charge of the artistic or technical aspects of movie-making.  The noun directorship (condition or office of a director) has been in use since the 1720s, the adjective directorial known since 1770.  The noun directorate was used first in 1834 of “a body of directors” and may immediately have be used individually of the “office of a director” but this was certainly first documented in 1837.  Director is a word defined both by its history of use (film director, director of football etc) and law (company director) so although titles like supervisor, head, manager, leader, administrator, chief, boss etc certainly implies “one who directs”, they’re traditionally not used as direct synonyms because “director” is a “loaded word”.  It’s also modified as needed (art director, managing director, sub-director etc).

1967 Imperial Crown Coupe with "Mobile Director Package"; note the rearward facing front passenger seat.  

Although the brand had since the 1920s been used for some of Chrysler's more expensive lines, between 1955-1975, the corporation re-created Imperial as a separate, stand-alone division (albeit with some intra-corporate sharing of engines, transmissions and certain other components), the way Ford positioned Lincoln (GM's (General Motors) Cadillac then still with unique engines although much else was shared).  In the early years, the approach yielded some success (most notably with the dramatic 1957 models) but the separation didn’t survive the troubled decade of the 1970s (by which time the platform and body-shells were shared with the other divisions and much of the earlier distinctiveness had been surrendered); a couple of subsequent, half-heated, revivals proved abortive.

Bowing to economic reality, the Imperial in 1967-1968 had switched from the separate frame used since 1955 to the unitary construction of the full-sized ranges offered by other divisions but maintained a certain degree of difference by virtue of a unique body, albeit one with dimensions slightly reduced (not seen by all as a virtue at a time when things were again trending larger).  While styled with an elegance derived from its simplicity of line, the Imperial continued to not quite match the timeless modernity of the Lincoln or the indefinable but incomparable allure of the Cadillac and although sales did improve in 1967, volumes were only ever a fraction of its two competitors.  The basic engineering though was sound, the TorqueFlite 727 transmission as responsive and robust as any (although it didn’t quite slur as effortlessly between ratios as the Cadillac’s TH400 Turbo-Hydramatic 400) while the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 was a notch better, something the others wouldn’t match until 1968.  Significantly, reviewers at the time often were prepared to acknowledge the Imperial was the more capable road car although, given it operated in a market where quietness and isolation from the environment were afforded more of a premium than handling prowess, among potential buyers, any perception of real-world advantage probably was marginal.

The more stylish if less roadable opposition: 1967 Cadillac Coupe DeVille (left) & 1967 Lincoln Continental Coupe (right).

In those years however, the Imperial did offer something truly unique.  The “Mobile Director Package” was available exclusively on the Imperial Crown Coupe and reflected (within the limits of what the available technology would then permit) what Chrysler thought a company director would most value in an automobile being used as a kind of “office on the move”, including (1) an extendable walnut-topped table (secured to the floor by a stainless-steel stanchion) able to be unfolded over the rear seats, (2) a Tensor high-intensity lamp with a gooseneck mount enabling the light to be directed anywhere in the cabin and, most intriguingly (3) a front passenger seat mounted on swivelling base enabling it to rotate 180°, the apparatus permitting someone comfortably to use the table and interact with those in the rear.  Conveniently, in a sign of the times, the car was supplied with four cigarette lighters and the lamp could be plugged into whichever was closest to need.  The package was available only for those two seasons and in its first years cost US$597.40 (some US$6,000 adjusted for 2026 values) but only 81 buyers ticked the option box and even reducing the price the next season to US$317.60 did little to stimulate demand; only 70 ordered as a dismal swansong.  Even if the threat of new safety regulations hadn’t been looming, it’s doubtful the Mobile Director Package would have appeared on the option list for 1969 when the new “fuselage” Imperials debuted.

Imperial's advertising always emphasised the "business" aspect of the package but the corporation also circulated a photograph of the table supporting a (presumably magnetic) chessboard and another with silver compote holding a shiny red apple and a bunch of grapes, dangling seductively.  The latter may have been to suggest the utility of the package when stopping for a picnic with one's secretary; at an advertising agency, once someone suggested using the motif of "forbidden fruit", nobody would have been able to resist.

The advertising copy at the time claimed the package was “designed for the busy executive who must continue his work while he travels”, serving also as “an informal conference lounge”.  The Imperial was a big car (previous generations had been larger still) though “lounge” was a bit of a stretch but “truth in advertising” laws were then not quite as onerous as they would become.  More accurate were the engineering details, the table able to “pivot to any of four different positions, supported by a sturdy chrome-plated pillar and in the forward position, it can convert into a padded armrest between the two front seats while extended, it opens out to twice its original size with a lever on the table swivel support to permit adjustments to the height”.  It was noted “a special tool is used for removing the table and storing it in the trunk” the unstated implication presumably that in deference to the secretary’s finger-nails, that would be a task for one’s chauffeur.  The US$597.40 the option listed at in 1967 needs to be compared with the others available and only the most elaborate of the two AC (air conditioning) systems was more expensive.

Imperial option list, 1967.

1967 Imperial Crown Coupe with Mobile Director Package.  Note seatbelt mounting point.

The publicity material associated with the Mobile Director Package did suggest the rearward-facing seat would likely be occupied by a director’s secretary and, as one might imagine, the configuration did preclude her (in 1967, secretaries almost always were women) using a seatbelt but she would always have been in arm’s reach of at least one cigarette lighter so there was that.  The (male) end of the front seatbelts sat on the sill panel, adjacent to the seat’s squab (back), a placement dictated by the need not to restrict access to the rear-compartment and that worked well for the standard coupe but, obviously, rendered the belt useless when the seat was rotated.  While Chrysler can be criticized for not providing rearward-facing secretaries with what’s now regarded as an essential safety feature, the rest of the US industry and legislatures (federal & state) were in 1967 little less cavalier.  While some state registration authorities had during the decade mandated the provision of seatbelts for front-seat passengers, no US jurisdiction then compelled their use.

The familiar modern three-point (lap & sash) seatbelt evolved in the late 1950s with much input from US designers but it was Swedish manufacturers that first made them universal (Scandinavia being often dark and icy, drivers sharing the roads with large elk).  The modern seatbelt design (conceptually unchanged to this day) is credited to Swedish mechanical engineer Nils Bohlin (1920–2002) who was employed by Volvo, the company making them a standard fitting in 1959, following the example of Saab that had added them the previous year.  During the 1960s, US states gradually imposed a requirement they be fitted until federal law mandated they be installed in all passenger vehicles produced after 1 January, 1968.  The laws requiring people actually to use the things proved more difficult to implement but other countries quickly made both fitment and use compulsory, initially only for those seated in the front but eventually this extended to all passengers.  Although examples existed early in the twentieth century (fitted often by those with experience in aviation) rudimentary seatbelts first appeared in US production cars during the 1950s but the manufacturers must have thought the public indifferent because their few gestures were tentative such as in 1956 when Ford had offered (as an extra-cost option) a bundle of safety features called the “Lifeguard Design” package that included:

(1) Padded dashboards (to reduce head injuries).

(2) Recessed steering wheel hub (to minimize chest injuries).

(3) Seat belts (front lap belts only)

(4) Stronger door latches (preventing doors flying open in a crash)

(5) Shatter-resistant rear-view mirror (reducing injuries caused by from broken glass).

In Western popular culture and advertising, there have been many friendly bears, including this one happily buckled-up with a “Ford seat belt. One third stronger than required for airliners.”

The standard features included (1) the Safety-Swivel Rear View Mirror, (2) the Deep-Center Steering Wheel with recessed post and bend-away spokes and (3) Double-Grip Door Latches with interlocking striker plate overlaps.  Optional at additional cost were (4) Seat Belts (single kit, front or rear, color-keyed, nylon-rayon with quick one-handed adjust/release aluminium buckle) (US$5).  There were also "bundles" (always popular in Detroit), “Safety Package A” consisting of a Padded Instrument Panel & Padded Sun Visors (US$18) while “Safety Package B” added to that Front-Seat Lap Seat Belts (US$27).  On the 1956 Thunderbird (with a significantly different interior design) the options were (1) the Lifeguard Padded Instrument Panel (US$22.65), (2) Lifeguard Padded Sun Visors (US$9) and (3) Lifeguard Seat Belts (US$14).

Years later, internal documents would be discovered revealing conflicts within the corporation, the marketing department opposed to any mention of "safety features" because that reminded potential customers of car crashes; they would prefer they focus on new colors, higher power outputs, sleek new lines and such.  So, with not much done to promote the “Lifeguard Design”, public demand was subdued and soon the option quietly was deleted.  At the time, apart from improving the quality of roads (resulting in higher average speeds with obvious implications) the government had done little about either safety or vehicle emissions but both the rising highway death toll and the worsening air quality in cities was attracting attention, meaning things would change, decades of legislation soon to unfold.  The first decisive step came as a provision in FMVSS 208 (Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standard No. 208) requiring all passenger cars manufactured from 1 January, 1968 onward be equipped with seatbelts at the designated seating positions though this was a federal manufacturing requirement, not a law requiring motorists to buckle up, something not imposed until 1984 when New York made their use mandatory, other states following the lead.

FMVSS emerged from the US NHSB (National Highway Safety Bureau (that in 1970 became the NHTSA (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration) under the newly created DOT (Department of Transportation), established by an act of Congress on 15 October, 1966 and beginning operation on 1 April, 1967).  That alphabet soup of activity in a field previously little explored by government came in the wake of the publication of Ralph Nader’s (b 1934) book Unsafe at any Speed (1965) documenting the flaws in the design and construction of US automobiles and industry’s indifference to the consequences.  Regulation ever since has been a growing industry, something emblematic of a theme in Western political culture since the end of World War II (1939-1945): The erosion of personal freedom in exchange for perceived (or dictated) benefits (in the case of the FMVSS, safer cars; other agencies gave us cleaner air).  All of this is fought out in various fora (legislatures, the streets, social media, Fox News etc); sometimes the state giveth, sometimes the state taketh away.

The profound recent shift in this mechanism is not the process but the participants: As “big tech” became dominant, that collective gave much to consumers who benefited from what appeared substantially to be “free” while surrendering much that was once by philosophers and political scientists thought precious but which clearly is regarded by many as an abstraction, the loss of which is a price worth paying for TikTok, Instagram, generative AI (artificial intelligence) and such.  In that, big tech’s model is essentially the same as that of the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and that seems to have worked well so we should imagine, as the twenty-first century unfolds, we’ll get “more of the same”.  In political theory, what the social contract theorists at big tech are doing is right because we all have clicked on the boxes agreeing to their 30-plus pages of terms and conditions and have certified we have read and understood every clause.  The political process handling this societal overlay is neither static nor lineal; structurally it follows much the same pattern as earlier contests between power and individuals: As governments react to pressure groups by seeking to curb the worst of the consequences, fixes, work-arounds and obfuscations will interact with a flow of money into the coffers of governments, parties (and, now and again, pockets) in a way that will permit most of what big tech plans to do while giving the appearance things are being done to stop them doing at least some of what many people think they should stop doing.  To anyone who remembers the maneuvers and compromises that for more than a decade would flow around the best-laid plans of the NHTSA, it will all be familiar.

1968 Imperial Crown Coupe with Mobile Director Package.  The seatbelt (lap only) was now attached directly to the frame.

Imperial’s designers were compelled by the law to be more imaginative than most.  For the swivelling front seat in the 1968 cars, the seatbelt mounting points were integrated directly into the steel frame of the seat base itself, rather than the vehicle's floor pan.  To achieve the necessary strength, (using techniques borrowed from the seats in airliners), the engineers had both inboard and outboard lap-belt ends bolt directly to reinforced anchor points on the lower structural framing of the seat.  This made seat, mechanism and belts wholly self-contained (a la a military aircraft’s ejector-seat!) and permitted the 180^o swivel effect, belts rotating seamlessly with passenger.  Chrysler did however obtain from the authorities a partial-exemption.  While FMVSS 208 required front-seat shoulder belts, that would have been difficult to implement for the swivelling seat (not impossible because ejector-seats have frame-mounted shoulder-belts) so the restraint system was limited to the two-point lap-belt (admittedly an improvement over what she'd been provided in 1967: nothing).  Secretaries on the move presumably were grateful but the safety feature didn’t see sales improve, despite the slashing of the price.

1966 Chrysler 300X show car.

In 1966, the “swivelling seat thing” must have been exerting a powerful influence in Chrysler’s design offices because also shown that year was the 300X, based on a 300 Convertible (and despite the appended letter, a vehicle not in the tradition of the just-retired “letter series” 300s (1955-1965), the “X” believed a reference to eXperimental) and although mechanically unchanged, the cockpit was packed with “futuristic” ideas, some of which did eventually enter mainstream use (although the swivelling front seat remained one of history’s unwanted orphans).  Rather than a conventional steering wheel, the driver used handgrips and the “steering unit” included button controls for lights, wipers, turn signals, and door locks, enabling use of all functions with a finger or thumb, all the while keeping a both hands on the mechanism.  Door handles were replaced by a keypunch card used also for the ignition while a truck-lid mounted TV camera and monitor on the dashboard replaced the rear-view mirrors.  Rear-seat passengers (and the front-occupant when “swivelled”) were able to enjoy watching a small television, mounted on a bracket allowing it to be stowed away when not in use. Construction of the 300X was out-sourced to the prolific customizer and fabricator Roger Winfield (1927–2025) whose creations became well-known from their appearances in film and television including Blade Runner (1982) and Get Smart (1965-1970).  The 1965 Sunbeam “Tiger” be built for Get Smart was actually a visually almost identical Sunbeam Alpine, chosen because its compactfour-cylinder engine left sufficient under-hood space for the “special accessories” (including a retractable machine-gun) whereas the Tiger’s Ford V8 filled the space to the brim.  To solve the “aural deficit”, the distinctive burble of a Tiger’s V8 was added during the editing process.

1969 Ford Aurora II Concept Car.

The most obvious thing that might puzzle those first seeing the Mobile Director Package is why it was available only in a two-door model when four-door coachwork would seem to make the configuration more obviously functional.  Had Imperial in 1967 sold several thousand of the things it’s at least possible Chrysler would for 1968 (or even mid-way through 1967) had extended availability but that would have been a more demanding process than it may appear, the existing swivelling mechanism unable to be used.  The difficulty was the four-door models (both sedan and hardtop) had respectively a full or partial B-pillar, the latter ending at the belt-line where the greenhouse begins, the structure required to provide a secure anchor point for the rear door's hinges.  The coupes used doors longer than front units on the four-door models, meaning the B-pillar sat further forward than the trailing-edge of the coupe’s door; there was thus a sufficient aperture for the seat to rotate when the coupe’s door was open but the gap would have been too narrow on the four-door cars.  So to offer the package in the four-door body it would have been a matter either of re-designing the doors or the swivelling seat and while the former would have been an expensive exercise (prohibitively so if the only justification was to accommodate a low-volume option), the seat and its base could have been re-engineered but after finding only 81 buyers in 1967 and 70 the next season, investment would have been hard to justify.

1960 Facel Vega Excellence EX1 (left) and 1959 Lancia Appia Series III (right).  Facel Vega produced France's finest cars of the post-war era but while undeniably glamourous, the flaws in the design of the Excellence's door-latches were never resolved and by the time the factory was shuttered in 1964, total Excellence production stood at 148 EX1s (Series One; 1958-1961) & 8 EX2s (Series Two; 1961-1964).  Lancia perfected pillar-free body engineering, using doors with sturdy window frames, permitting latch points at both sill and roof, the configuration offered on a number of sedans including the Ardea (1939-1953), Aurelia (1950-1958) & Appia (1953-1963).  The locking mechanism was intricate but the engineering was simple and proved reliable.  It's sad the company's later attachment to FWD (front wheel drive) ultimately doomed Lancia because in every other aspect of engineering, few others were as adept at producing such fine small-displacement vehicles.

1969 Ford Aurora II Concept Car.

Ford's 1969 Aurora II Concept Car gave an indication of quite what what would have been required to make the Mobile Director Package conveniently functional on the platform of what was then the standard "full-size" four-door US automobile.  The "wrap-around" rear seat was an idea borrowed from the Ford Thunderbird, contemporary reviewers praising the visual impact but noting that as something for humans to sit on it was less comfortable than a conventional design; in the Aurora it probably worked better and certainly lent the cabin the desired "lounge-room" vibe.  The problem of providing (1) space for the seat to swivel and (2) allowing elegant ingress & egress was of course afforded by the the four doors (in "suicide" configuration) and elimination of the B-pillar.  That combination provided unprecedented ease of accessibility but its doubtful it could successfully have been implemented in series-production.  The French concern had earlier tried the approach with their Excellence model but, despite retaining a vestigial hump where a B-pillar would have attached to the sill, the company never solved the problem of the door-locking apparatus "springing open" while the car was in motion, usually when the mechanism was subject to lateral forces such as when cornering.  Because these forces could be exerted at high-speed, having doors suddenly "flying open" was an obvious safety concern.  Lancia in the 1950s solved the problem of doing without a fixed central pillar buy using doors with conventional, full-height frames, thereby enabling locking mechanisms to be fitted top & bottom.  Curiously, the Aurora was based on the LTD Country Squire that came only with fully-framed doors so Lancia's approach could have been adopted but there's no indication Ford ever contemplated series-production, the "concept car" created just to generate interest on the show circuit.

1967 Imperial Crown Convertible (with subsequently added Mobile Direct Package).

Imperial over two seasons might have managed to sell only 151 of the Mobile Director Packages but one owner of a 1967 Crown Convertible was so smitten they cannibalized a coupe to create a unique (if wholly fake) "convertible Mobile Director".  Exactly emulating what the factory did would not have been as simple as it may appear because the floor under the passengers swivelling seat needed to be strengthened with additional bracing and a "baffle" was welded to the transmission tunnel where the table's stainless-steel stanchion was attached (off-set to the driver's side to avoid the drive-shaft).  Although apparently as significantly pointless as the original, it's a novelty that would attract interest at events like "cars & coffee" and may even be more functional in that it would seem an ideal place comfortably to sit and enjoy one's picnic while watching something like polo (on the model of the way the Country Life set re-purpose the tailgates on their Range Rovers).  That said, had the factory in 1967-1968 made the package available on the convertible, almost certainly it would have been just as unsuccessful as the coupe. 

Stewart-Warner's desk-based DataFax (circa 1958).  The process of miniaturization in electronics was by 1966 still embryonic but enough shrinkage had been attained to make a fax fit in Imperial's show car.  Unlike fax machines, the pencil skirt never goes out of style.

The specification of Chrysler's package as it appeared in showrooms for the 1967 season was actually modest compared with the “Mobile Executive” car the corporation sent around the show circuit a year earlier; that Imperial had been fitted with a telephone, Dictaphone, writing table, fax machine, reading lamp and stereophonic sound system; a typewriter and portable television also used in many displays although neither were "fitted".  Also a Crown Coupe, the 1966 show car was much more ambitious, anticipating advances in mobile communications that would emerge over the next quarter-century.  At the time, car phones were available (the first service in the US offered in certain cities in 1946) but they were expensive and the nature of the bandwidth, combined with a lack of data compression, meant the range was limited as was capacity, only several dozen calls able simultaneously to be sustained.  In the 1966 car, there had even been the novelty of a Stewart-Warner Datafax, able to send or receive a US Letter-sized (slightly smaller than A4) page of text in six minutes.  That sounds unimpressive in the 2020s (or compared even with the 14.4 kbit/s for Group 3 FaxStream services of the 1990s) but the appropriate comparison is with the contemporary alternatives (driving, walking, a courier, or using the US Mail) and six minutes would have been a considerable advance.  While more expensive than a stamp and envelope, for the target market the costs would anyway have been a legitimate business expense and thus "a deductible".  As it was, the tempting equipment awaited improvements in infrastructure such as the analogue networks of the 1980s and later cellular roll-outs, these technologies contributing to an extent of use delivering economies of scale that eventually would make possible the smartphone.

The 1966 car that toured the show circuit demonstrated the concept which, in simplified form, would the next year appear on the option list but things like telephones and fax machines anticipated the future by many years (although fax machines in cars (Audi and Toyota among the handful to offer them) never became a thing).  The Dictaphone did however make the list as one of Chrysler's RPOs (regular production options) in the early 1970s and the take-up rate was surprisingly high although the fad quickly passed, dealers reporting the customers saying the hardware worked well but they "never used them".  In the collector community, a surviving Dictaphone in something like a Plymouth 'Cuda is a minor attraction; while not increasing value as would something like and original Hemi V8, it is a legitimate "period piece".

Glovebox-mounted fax machine in 1995 Toyota Celsior (the JDM (Japanese Domestic Market) Lexus LS).

The problem with the scaled-down Datafax was even had it been possible to produce the things at a manageable cost, in 1966 the solid-state electronics that would have made the thing reliable when subject to constant vibration and jolts were still years away (Chrysler’s Bendix “Electrojector” fuel injection in 1958 had fewer moving parts and that didn’t end well).  However, even if reliability could have been "engineered in", there is no guarantee demand would have existed whatever the price-point.  In the 1990s, despite it being installed with Toyota’s typical neatness and attention to detail, there were few buyers for the "fax machine in the glovebox" and if the notion was going to catch on anywhere, it would have been in that nation of early adopters.  While there were many features in the 1966 300X truly that were "ahead of their time", the Mobile Direct Package was a genuine cul-de-sac, at least as implemented in a conventionally sized car (and certainly a two-door coupe).  In 1966, rearward-facing seats had for some years been seen in the "vis-à-vis" arrangement used in some LWB (long wheelbase) limousines and as child-seats in the rear-most compartments of station wagons but those seats had been either fixed or folding and although the Ford Aurora II presumably dazzled a few impressionable souls, the industry showed little inclination to follow Chrysler's swivelling lead.

2021 "Maybach-Look" Mercedes-Benz Metris.  The passenger compartment is a similar configuration as the 1966-1967 Imperials (two forward facing seats, two rearward ("fold-away" rather than swivelling)) and there were folding tables as well as features unimaginable in the 1960s (seat massage, starlight-pattern headliner, flatscreen TV, internet connectivity, touchscreen infotainment system and a Burmester sound system with subwoofers).  Unfortunately, a fax machine wasn't part of the build but by 2021, they were close to extinct even in bricks & mortar offices.   

Flawed though Chrysler's implementation in 1966-1967 may have been, in the twenty-first century, production-line economics made it possible to realise the concept's implications, "big-box" vans able to be outfitted as genuinely functional mobile offices from which communication can be maintained with just about any part of the planet.  Of course, based on the same body used by plumbers, Amazon delivery drivers and such, the Metris doesn't have quite the gravitas of the Mercedes-Benz 600 Grossers of old (it's debatable whether the faux "Maybach-Look" stuff makes things better or worse) but there's more interior space and room for a big-screen TV so it's all a matter of what one wants from life.  Noting that, some operations have fitted-out interiors as offices or luxury transports which eschewing the exterior bling, some (often wisely) preferring to travel as inconspicuously as possible.      

Variation

Variation (pronounced vair-ee-ey-shuhn)

(1) The act, process, or accident of varying in condition, character, or degree; The act of varying; a partial change in the form, position, state, or qualities of a thing.

(2) Amount, rate, extent, or degree of change.

(3) A different form of something; a variant; a related but distinct thing.

(4) In music, the transformation of a melody or theme with changes or elaborations in harmony, rhythm, and melody (the technique often using repetition of material with alterations to melody, harmony, rhythm, timbre, texture, counterpoint or orchestration (though often with some invariant characteristic).

(5) In ballet, a solo dance, especially one a section of a pas de deux.

(6) In astronomy, any deviation from the mean orbit of a heavenly body, especially of a planetary or satellite orbit.

(7) In admiralty use as applied to nautical navigation, the angular difference at the vessel between the direction of true north and magnetic north; also called magnetic declination.

(8) In biology, a difference or deviation in structure or character from others of the same species or group (specifically in genetics the modification of a hereditary trait.

(9) In linguistics, any form of morphophonemic change, such as one involved in inflection, conjugation, or vowel mutation.

(10) In linguistics, when two or more linguistic forms appear in the same environment without a change in meaning, the choice of form being determined by factors of dialect, sociolect, register or simply the speaker's preference.

(11) In board and other games, a a line of play that differs from the original.

(12) In mathematics (variational calculus), an infinitesimal perturbation applied to a function, typically denoted , used to probe how a functional changes.

1350-1400: From the Middle English variation (difference, divergence), from the Middle French variation, from the Old French variacion (variety, diversity) and directly from the Latin variationem & variātiōn (stem of variātiō) (a difference, variation, change), from the past participle stem of variare (to change) (the source of the modern English vary).  The use in the context of musical composition wasn't common until the early nineteenth century.  The available synonyms themselves show an impressive variation: deviation, abnormality, diversity, variety, fluctuation, innovation, divergence, alteration, discrepancy, disparity, mutation, shift, modification, change, swerve, digression, contradistinction, aberration, novelty, diversification, mutation, alteration, difference.  Apart from the English variation, European descendants include the French variation, the Italian variazione, the Portuguese variação, the Russian вариация (variacija), the Spanish variación and Swedish variation.  Variation & variationism are nouns, variationist is a noun & adjective and variational is an adjective; the noun plural is variations.

In jurisdictions of the common law tradition, the word “variation” must be used with caution because while in documents it can be innocuous, it possesses also a number of well-established legal meanings, these varying according to the field of law where applied.  In the broadest (and simplest) sense, a “variation” is a change to an existing legal instrument, obligation, agreement etc that in some way changes something while leaving the arrangement’s whole substantially in existence.  The most familiar use is in contract law, a variation to a contract an agreement between parties to the contract to alter one or more of the terms.  In practice, despite the evolved rules, with the agreement of all parties, a variation to a contract can be so fundamental that it really become a “new contact”.  Provided there is certainty in the wording of the “variation” and all parties are content, this can be uncontroversial but in disputes, a variation can be found to be so fundamental a court will declare it a “new contract”.  Contract variations are so common (and often oral transactions if minor) that most pass unnoticed though disputed variations are among some of the famous entries in contract law text books.  In the jargon, a variation is conceptually distinct from a rescission (terminating an existing contract) or a novation (substituting a new contract or party for an existing one).

The interesting technical aspect of course is the point at which a “variation” becomes a contract, the terminology of significance because just because those writing something call it a “variation”, that doesn’t mean a court will accept it is one; depending on this and that, it may be held what the parties call a “variation” has, in effect, rescinded and replaced the original contract.  Borrowing from the traditions of equity the maxim “equity looks at substance rather than form” and what contract law judges do is look at consequence rather than the label.  One who would have understood that what matters is substance rather than form was comrade Stalin.  He eventually would find the Yugoslavian communists just to troublesome but while they could still be controlled, he was inclined to despair, complaining they were “more Marxist than Marx” and became annoyed with one delegation to which he'd just explained the importance of assuming control of the organs of state without it appearing a communist takeover.  All they wanted to talk about was the design of the red stars for the caps of the police and military personnel, prompting him angrily to exclaim: “What do you want with red stars on your caps?  The form is not important but what is gained, and you—red stars!  By God, there’s no need for stars!”     

Ginger, copper, auburn & chestnut are variations on the theme of red-headedness: Lindsay Lohan demonstrates the possibilities. 

Courts can also impose variations on their own orders (in which a term or terms might be altered but the order remains operative).  A judge of their own volition may issue a variation or it can be a response to a request from one of the parties (or both) to the proceedings.  Variations in orders are very common in family matters (quantum of maintenance payments, shared parenting arrangements etc) and criminal law (a sentence, bail or parole arrangements etc).  As a piece of judicial administration, variations are a vital aspect because, analogous with the use in contract law, they are a “modification”, meaning the force of the original remains afoot with no need for a re-hearing or the making of a new order.  Of course, a court may choose to set aside an order and make a new one; it’s on an order-by-order basis.  In specialized matters such will or trusts, variations can highly be regulated the laws of trusts especially specific and, as Rupert Murdoch (b 1931) found out, sometimes legally bulletproof.  Beneficiaries and trustees are of course subject to restrictions on variations but courts are also governed by the rules.  

Glenn Gould and the Goldberg Variations: 1955 & 1981

Published in 1741, J.S. Bach’s (1685-1750) Goldberg Variations consists of an aria and thirty variations.  Written for the harpsichord, it was named after German harpsichordist & organist Johann Gottlieb Goldberg (1727-1756), thought to have undertaken the first performance.  The work is now part of the canon of Baroque music but, before 1955, was an obscure piece of the Bach repertoire, a technically difficult composition for the hardly fashionable harpsichord and known mostly as a device for teachers to develop students’ keyboard skills.  Even for aficionados of the Baroque, it was rarely performed.

Glenn Gould (1932-1982) was a Canadian classical pianist, his debut album on the then novel twelve-inch vinyl LP an interpretation of The Goldberg Variations, played not on a harpsichord but a piano.  It was at once acknowledged to be an extraordinary performance and although critics don't always embrace radical approaches to older pieces, the praise was almost universal although there was one reviewer wo expressed "shock" ate Gould's fingers moving at a tempo the composer would never have envisioned, resulting in a piece of electrifying intensity; it really was something beyond mere interpretation. As well as introducing him to a wider audience, The Goldberg Variations proved also Gould's swansong, uniquely for him, re-recorded in 1981 and issued days before his death.  Eschewing the stunningly fast pace that had made the earlier recording famous and clearly the work of a mellower, more reflective artist, for those familiar with the original, it’s a masterpiece of controlled tension.  In 2002, Sony re-released both, the earlier essentially untouched, the later benefiting from a re-mastering correcting some of the technical deficiencies that tended to plague many early digital releases.  Although critics and professional musicians doubtlessly understood why Gould believed there were aspects of the 1955 performance that detracted from the whole and why he felt his second attempt the better piece of art, for those who listen to music for pleasure, it’s still the original that thrills.

Rarely can a single recording have so successfully revived a long-neglected work but that’s what Gould’s 1955 release did for Bach’s Goldberg Variations, his audacious interpretation unlocking fascinations that have since drawn audiences although not until the next century were many other pianists tempted into the studio.  The (alleged) early history also is intriguing: When first published, the piece was titled: “Aria with diverse variations for a harpsichord with two manuals.  Composed for Music Lovers to Refresh their Spirits.”  While we can be grateful for the adoption of the punchier “Goldberg Variations”, the origins of the wordy original may lie in the household of an insomniac Russian count then serving as ambassador to the electoral court of Saxony (part of the Holy Roman Empire).  To sooth him to sleep, the ambassador would have the court musician (Johann Gottlieb Goldberg) spend evenings in an antechamber, playing the harpsichord.  It was the count who requested Bach to compose works of a “gentle yet lively character” so that, even if not lulled to sleep, he might be cheered up.  That tale appeared in a very early biography of Bach and few historians think it likely (his pupil Goldberg was the aged 14) but it’s attractive enough not to be forgotten and while the inclusion of “lively” might seem a strange request from an insomniac, as a chronic condition it has been linked to depression.

Simone Dinnerstein, Goldberg Variations by J.S. Bach (Telarc CD-80692).

Additionally, the count may have had scripture in mind:  “And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.” (1 Samuel 16:23; King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611).  Not for nothing is Bach known as perhaps the greatest composer of “Church Music”, his works often including what was in his lifetime called gemüths-ergetzende (soul-enhancing).  Certainly, the work retains its capacity to stun, US pianist Simone Dinnerstein’s acclaimed recording in 2007 one of that year’s big hits on the classical charts: Released by Telarc, it was her self-financed project to mark a return to performance after pausing to give birth to her first child and definitely it was not a Gould 1.1 or 2.1.  Preformed on a 1903 Hamburg Steinway model D concert grand, the sound was sumptuous without the contrived lushness many studios once were compelled to concoct in the day before digital techniques were refined to the point where individual notes could be captured almost in the space’s “specific cubic millimetres”.  What’s often forgotten about the Goldberg Variations is that although reviewers have often focused on the “difficult passages”, some of it is simple indeed and it’s this “light & dark” that can be exploited; Gould in 1955 had his approach, Dinnerstein in 2007 had her own and the contrast in obvious from the opening aria, played at a tempo that will seem startling to those who have only heard Gould’s first take on the meditation.  What she seems to have decided is it could be a romantic piece (not the most fashionable view in 2007), not from beginning to end, but with the character of those passages gaining emphasis from the more rapid sections.  It was an accomplished work and while the virtuosity might have been expected, it’s the inventiveness that will intrigue although there will be some who expected more, some of the repeats not included, presumably a technical limitation of the single-CD release.  Hopefully, like Gould, she’ll re-record, now technology no longer imposes such constraints.

Tactile

Tactile (pronounced tak-til or tak-tahyl)

(1) Of, pertaining to, endowed with, or affecting the sense of touch.

(2) Perceptible to the touch; tangible.

(3) Capable of being touched; tangible (archaic).

1605–1615: From the Middle French tactile, from the Latin tāctilis (tangible), from tāctus, past participle of tangere (to touch)), from the primitive Indo-European root tag (to touch; to handle).  The construct was tact(us) + ile.  The –ile suffix was from the Latin –īlis (neuter -ile, comparative -ilior, superlative -illimus or -ilissimus; the third-declension two-termination suffix), from the Proto-Italic -elis, from the primitive Indo-European -elis, from -lós.  It was used to form an adjective noun of relation, frequently passive, to the verb or root.  The meaning "of or pertaining to the sense of touch" is attested from the 1650s.  Tactile is an adjective, tactilize is a verb, tactility is a noun and tactilely is an adverb; the noun plural is tactilities.  In specialized use, the word “tactile” is an element in many words:

Audiotactile: (relating to the senses of hearing and touch).

Chemotactile: (the ability of an organism to sense changes to its chemical environment).

Electrotactile: (composed of an array of small electrodes that provide stimulation to the skin).

Entactogen: (the quality of combining mechanosensory (of or pertaining to the sensing of mechanical stimuli) with tactility).

Mechanotactile: (mechanosensory (of or pertaining to the sensing of mechanical stimuli) and tactile).

Orotactile: (of or pertaining to the sense of touch in mouth).

Pedotactile: (that can be felt by the feet).

Pneumotactile: (relating to the skin's ability to feel a pneumatic pulse).

Protactile: (a dialect of ALS (American Sign Language) that communicates with touch).

Tactilometry: (The measurement of touch or of vibration (change in dimension) (tactilometric the adjective).

Teletactile: (relating to the transmission of physical touch over a telecommunication network (teletactility the noun).

Thermotactile: (Sensitive to heat and to touch (but distinct from thermomreactive)).

Visuotactile: (relating to perception by vision and touch).

Vibrotactile: (of, pertaining to, or using vibrotaction (the dynamic response of tactile nerve endings in the skin to vibration)).

Tactile Paving

Examples of tactile pavers.

Tactile graphics (the singular form does exist but is rare and restricted to technical use (software manuals and such)) are raised-surface representations of images, maps, graphs and diagrams designed for individuals who are blind or visually impaired, enabling them to explore (using touch) anything able to be represented thus (physical topography, complex STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) content (cabling diagrams the classic example) spatial layouts, art etc).  Tactile paving was a practical application of tactile graphics, describing a system of textured ground surface indicators (constructed typically using a brightly colored rubberized plastic) permanently affixed to stairs, railway station platforms, the point at which a sidewalk (footpath) ends (the so-called “curb-cut”) and access to a pedestrian road-crossing begins etc.  The concept first appeared in Japan in the mid-1960s and was based on 点字ブロック (tenji (the name for Japanese braille, a system of writing in which letters and some combinations of letters are represented by raised dots arranged in three or four rows of two dots each and are read by the blind and partially sighted using the fingertips; the system was named after French educator Louis Braille (1809–1852))).  Something like “braille writ large” the “tactile paving tiles” are there as a kind of “signage” for the blind or visually-impaired, designed specifically easily to be detectable by shod-feet or a hand-held cane; the system was a major contribution to making the built environment more easily negotiable.  Although the shapes (“blister”, “lozenge”, “ribbed”, “cycleway”, “directional”, “stair” etc) are not quite internationally standardized, within jurisdictions, there is one for railway platforms, one for stairs, one for curb-cuts etc, the latter of importance because there’s sometimes no grade-change between a sidewalk and roadway along which motorized vehicles pass.

Tactile Necrophilia

Forensic and Medico-legal Aspects of Sexual Crimes and Unusual Sexual Practices (2008) by Professor Anil Aggrawal.

In psychiatry, “tactile necrophilia” (a condition in which subjects sexually are aroused by touching or stroking a corpse, without engaging in intercourse) is one of the ten classifications of necrophilia defined by Indian forensic psychologist Professor Anil Aggrawal (b 1956), author of the 438 page Forensic and Medico-legal Aspects of Sexual Crimes and Unusual Sexual Practices (2008), described in a review published in the AAJFC (American Academy Journal of Forensic Sciences) as a “quite remarkable book” and an “authoritative text” in which “Dr Aggrawal deftly brings to bear his 25 years of interest and knowledge of sexual deviancy”.  Within the profession, Dr Aggrawal is considered the leading authority on necrophilia and, as well as being a text book for the profession, Forensic and Medico-legal Aspects of Sexual Crimes and Unusual Sexual Practices is also a valuable contribution to the evolution of the history of how “normal” & “abnormal” have at various times been constructed, one reviewer noting “a enjoyable aspect of this book is Dr Aggrawal’s grasp of ancient references concerning the paraphilias in both religious and historical texts” while another was pleased by the inclusion of “minor aberrant behavior such as coprolalia and troilism.”

The ten classifications are not listed in either the APA’s (American Psychiatric Association) DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) nor the WHO’s (World Health Organization) ICD (International Classification of Diseases), and in the latest edition of the DSM (DSM-5-TR, 2022), a recurrent, intense sexual interest in corpses is classified as diagnosable under “Other Specified Paraphilic Disorder (necrophilia)” when “the cause of marked distress or impairment in important areas of functioning.”  Intriguingly, Professor Aggrawal list his ten headings in order of “increasing severity” meaning an “Exclusive Necrophiliac” (Class X; Those for whom sex with a corpse is an exclusive interest (ie they do not respond to a living partner)) is defined as a more severe condition than that of the “Homicidal Necrophiliac” (Class IX; Necrosadists, those who commit murder in order to have sex with the victim).  Presumably the notion of “severity” explored by Professor Aggrawal is based on a scale where the “total exclusion” of sex with a living human is the “terminal state” and one can see his point but it’s suspected most non-clinicians would regard (certainly on public policy grounds) someone who murders their sexual partners to be a “more severe” state of mental disorder than one who enjoys partners who met their end by other means (acts of God, trauma, murdered by the Freemasons, fatal illness etc).  Still, Professor Aggrawal is thought the world’s “leading authority on necrophilia” so we should defer to his expertise; it should be added his ten categories are to be digested while remembering he is a practicing forensic psychologist, his findings empirical and not theoretical:

Class I: Role players (Those aroused when pretending their partner is dead during sexual activity).

Class II: Romantic necrophiliacs (The bereaved people who remain attached to their dead lover's body).

Class III: Necrophiliac fantasizers (Those who fantasize about necrophilia, but do not physically interact with corpses).

Class IV: Tactile necrophiliacs (Those aroused by touching or stroking a corpse, without engaging in intercourse.

Class V: Fetishistic necrophiliacs (Those who remove objects or body parts from a corpse for sexual fetishes, without engaging in intercourse).

Class VI: Necromutilomaniacs (Those who derive pleasure from mutilating a corpse while masturbating, without engaging in intercourse).

Class VII: Opportunistic necrophiliacs (Those who usually have no interest in necrophilia but avail themselves of the opportunity when presented).

Class VIII: Regular necrophiliacs (Those who preferentially (but not exclusively) have intercourse with the dead).

Class IX: Homicidal necrophiliacs (Necrosadists; those who murder someone to have sex with the victim).

Class X: Exclusive necrophiliacs (Those for whom sex with a corpse is an exclusive interest (ie they do not respond to a living partner)).

Tactility's finest hour: The IBM Model M keyboard.

A triumph of modern industrial design but, in a way, a work of art: 1992 IBM (Blue Label) Model M keyboard.

In the few decades computing has been a mainstream activity, in the layers, at various points, such as been the variety of hardware, operating systems, languages and software, often there's been no general agreement about what’s best in any particular field but most with any exposure to the IBM Model M keyboard agree it’s probably the finest keyboard ever.  Even those not attracted to the tactility that is its most obvious characteristic (and there are those gentle souls who prefer a “squishy” to a “clicky” keyboard) will usually concede the build quality is exceptional, compared especially to some of the flimsy devices in recent years bundled with systems.  It shouldn’t be surprising IBM was able at scale to build something like the Model M keyboard given the company’s decades of experience in engineering such constructions and there are Model M nerds prepared to believe all those years were but preparation for what was required to make the Model M a landmark in tactility.

1973 IBM Selectric with three elements (golfballs).  The striking red was quite rare, staid corporations preferring blue, green and beige. 

IBM (International Business Machines) began in New York in 1888 (adopting the initialism in 1924), its early core-business mechanical “tabulating systems” for accounting and time-keeping and, by the 1930s, some of the mechanical engineering used in these systems was applied to typewriter technology after it acquired the tools, patents and production facilities of Electromatic Typewriters of Rochester.  The first result of an intense R&D (research & development) effort was released in 1935 as the Model 01 IBM Electric Typewriter, the machine that became the first really successful electric typewriter in the US and the beginning of a line which, by 1961, had evolved into the IBM Selectric, famous for its “element” that the rest of the world came to call the “golfball”.  The almost spherical “golfball” (it appears also in some IBM documents as “typeball”) contained the impressions of the letters that struck the ribbon and was interchangeable with others using different font sets.  That was not a new idea, other manufacturers using the principle of interchangeability in the late nineteenth century but with “type wheels” that were larger and tended to be fragile; the three-dimensional “golfball” was both more robust and, having to travel a smaller distance per key stroke, permitting a faster typing rate.  It was with the Selectric the evolution of what became the Model M keyboard really began.

1984 IBM Model F keyboard; the IBM mouse of the era was as ghastly to use as the look suggests.

Though the unit on the 1935 Model 01 Typewriter may be thought the Model M's LCA (last common ancestor), it's the Model F that deserves the honor of parenthood.  The first version of the definitively tactile, stand-alone IBM keyboard was the Model 14 which, although most associated with the original IBM PC-1 released in August 1981, had actually debuted with the System/23 Datamaster (1981-1985), a short-lived corporate workstation that proved a dinosaur, unable to adapt to the strange new world created by the unexpected success of the PC-1 (those in the IBM boardroom as surprised as any).  The adoption by corporations and SMBs (small & medium business) of the PC-1 and its successors was also ultimately the death knell for the earlier 6580 Displaywriter (1980-1986), a hefty and expensive dedicated word-processor (the impact printer usually bundled with the thing so loud most put it in an insulated shroud or a separate room); like the System/23 in the battle of "survival of the fittest", it proved unable to adapt, crowded out of the ecosystem by the rapidly expanding niche created by the PC-1.  In an era when "to be first" was often a great marketplace advantage (enabling critical mass to be gained), the Datamaster's introduction five weeks ahead of the PC-1 wasn't enough for the species to survive although it's Model 14 keyboard was shared with the upstart from which not much had been expected.  The Model 14 debuted with an 83 key layout and the nerdiest of nerds still extol its technical superiority over the Model M in that it uses a buckling spring over a capacitive PCB (printed circuit board) rather than the later membrane.  The Model F remained in production until 1985 (although volumes (by both IBM and Lexmark) had slowed) but it was the platform for innovations such as the revised layout to accommodate the PC-AT's protocols and the availability of specialized models with provision for magnetic stripe readers & inbuilt LCD readouts (both with cable-interfaces to external devices) and as few as 50 or as many as 127 keys (the latter industry-specific).

Custom IBM Model F keyboard with LED module.

Model F aficionados can be a snobby crowd, proud of pointing out even IBM admitted one of the design objectives with the Model M was to reduce manufacturing costs but the attraction is real, the intricacies of the Model F intriguing and their labour-intensive production process does mean nothing like them is likely again to be made.  The internal assembly uses two curved metal back-plates and the PCB is flexible, thus also curved when attached to the back-plate and while just about every other keyboard's curves are simulated by the molding of the keycap profiles, the Model F's curves were integral to the frame, thus allowing all keycaps to be the same shape and size, a great advantage for those who like to tinker and customize.  While freaks customizing keyboards are less frequently found than once they were, they exist still in dark rooms living on pizza and Coca-Cola.  Snobbery or not, the freaks do (up to a point) have a point because the mechanical advantages are real.  The capacitive design is superior, requiring a lighter actuation force, delivering a crisper feel and slightly sharper feedback; it’s also more robust, IBM guaranteeing each key with a MTBF (mean time between failure) of over 100 million key-presses, a reasonable life even for the most productive trolls.  The switch from PCBs to membranes meant these characteristics were to some degree toned down in order to lower manufacturing costs although the MTBF was still rated an impressive 80 million, even a Marcel Proust (1871-1922) unlikely to have worn one out in his lifetime.

IBM user Lindsay Lohan in Life-Size (2000, Walt Disney Television).

Pace the freaks but the Model M is preferable, if for no other reason than simply because it (more-or-less) standardized the core keyboard layout (most others have long conformed) and in use, the tactility is little different from its predecessor.  Regarding the layout, the case can be made that the Model F’s location of the function keys to the left may have made sense but the planet has settled on the Model M's layout and humans adapted.  Introduced in 1985 with the 3161 terminal, the PC-compatible version appeared in 1987 when it was included with the PS/2 range introduced with the OS/2 operating system and MCA (Micro Channel Architecture) bus.  The Model M is a solid (9 lb (4 kg)) tactile experience that feels as solid (and "clicky") as the Model F and users typically have a long time to become accustomed to that feel; the keyboards, some now over 40 years old, appearing not to have a life expectancy, many in continuous use for decades and a servicing ecosystem exists should any parts need to be replaced although it’s said rectifying the consequences of spills (of coffee, red wine, G&Ts etc) is a more common request and, as a general principle, the higher a liquid's sugar content, the more difficult the task.  Black tea or coffee with no sugar is, for many reasons, recommended, keyboard hygiene included.  The best source for the tactile status symbols is ClickyKeyboards.

United States Patent # 4,118,611 Buckling Spring torsional snap actuator. Harris, 1978:

It will be appreciated with regard to the figures that depression of the key button 1 moves the key button and its stem 6 into the housing 3, creating longitudinal compression and lateral deflection of the helical compression spring 2. An initial counter-clockwise moment is exerted on the rocker member 4 which is approximately equal to the force F times the distance between the pivot point 8 of the rocking member 4 and the center line of the spring. The upper end of the helical spring 2 is held squarely against the key button 1 by a clockwise moment created by a force equal to approximately F times the diameter of the spring divided by two. The rocker member 4 will initially be held firmly over the contacts 5A and 5B. As the lateral motion of the center of the helical compression spring 2 increases, both the top and bottom reaction moments in spring 2 are decreased because F is transmitted through the center section of spring 2. Shortly after these moments approach 0, the rocker member rocks to a position squarely over contacts 5A and 5C and the top of spring 2 rocks about the right hand edge of its topmost coil. The constraints upon the depression column spring have changed from an initial end clamped condition to an end clamped-pinned condition. This sudden change provides the tactile response of the key and is accompanied by a sudden rocking action of the rocker member 4 which creates an acoustic feedback as well.

Evolution of the IBM Keyboard layout: Model M, 3161 Terminal (1985) & PS/2 (1987) (top), Model F, PC-AT (1984) (centre) and Model F, PC & XT, (1981) (bottom).

The "buckling spring torsional snap actuator" is the core of the Model M’s charm.  Unlike mechanical switches that are depressed straight down like plungers, the Model M has springs under each key that contract, snap flat, or "buckle," and then spring back into place when released.  This provides the audible “click” so associated with the model and which some don’t like but for those who become accustomed to typing on one, it’s hard to go back to anything else; they have the feel of a pre-modern (circa 1980 and earlier) Mercedes-Benz.  Because of the physicality, typing on a Model M is a tangible experience; like a typewriter, the tactility and the feedback of the click gives every letter a physical presence.

NASA's (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) LSLF (Lunar Sample Laboratory Facility).

The LSLF is NASA's repository and laboratory facility at the Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center in Houston (named after Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; VPOTUS 1961-1963 and POTUS 1963-1969 who, as VPOTUS was made titular head of the US space programme, the centrepiece of which was the Apollo project that produced the manned landing on the Moon in July 1969).  Since 1979, the LSLF has housed geologic samples collected from the lunar surface during the Apollo missions (1969-1972).  The facility preserves in a secure vault much of the 842 lb (382 kg) of rocks, dust and such returned to Earth as well as some other material and the associated data records.  The facility also contains "clean-room" laboratories so samples can be processed and studied in a contamination-free environment.

A "NASA office", circa 1989 (given the likely spec of the PC, probably a secretary's desk, left) and the "moon rocks" available for "public touch".  

The LSLF also includes (as a "static exhibit", left), a replica of a room in the Space Center as it was in the late 1980s.  On the desk is Model M keyboard connected to a IBM PS/2 PC that, on the basis of the cropped image, appears to be a Model 30, a "low end" version that would have included either an 8086 (8/16 bit) or 20286 (16/16 bit) Intel CPU (central processing unit) and in either case would have been built on the AT (Advanced Technology) bus, later known as ISA (Industry Standard Architecture).  Higher end models included the 80386 (32/32 bit) CPU and MCA, some even with the new OS/2 operating system.  For a number of reasons (technological and economic), MCA and OS/2 proved to be chimeras although OS/2 did become a fabulous beast, lasting in its niche into the twenty-first century and hobbyists still support development on the platform.  The LSLF's PS/2 may be running IBM PC-DOS 4.01, a "bug-fix" of the prematurely-released v4.0 that shipped with "bugs" in the handling of the then novel EMS (Expanded Memory Specification) on non-IBM expansion boards; memory was in the 1980s of great interest as users needed ways to "work-around" DOS's by the infamous 640 kb "addressable limit".  Microsoft "bug-fixed" v4.0 and this was released by IBM as PC-DOS 4.01; while MS-DOS 4.0 was always the "debugged" version, very few copies were shipped so numbered, a "cosmetic release" as 4.01 soon in the channel because of the reputation of v4.0 as "flawed".  Despite that, there's nothing to suggest pristine copies (ie still in shrink-wrap) of MS-DOS 4.0 have become even a minor collector's item.  Also in the LSLF is a display of (right) the world's only eight lunar rocks (some nearly four billion years old) available to be touched by the general public.