The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 164: A Line in the Sand

Episode Date: July 21, 2020

Sometimes, you simply have to draw one.

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This is the way I heard it. When the technology was first demonstrated for the president of the United States, he was astonished. Amazing, he said. Simply amazing. Would you like to try it, sir? Yes, he said. I believe I would. Flanked by his security detail, the president selected a target at random and activated the device.

The technology took care of the rest. Amazing, he murmured. Simply amazing. It was an understandable reaction to a technological breakthrough that would impact millions of people and transform the global economy. Perhaps if the president knew his reaction would destroy his bid for re-election and make, you know who, a household name, he'd have been less effusive, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's go back to where the technology was born. Miami Beach, 1949, where a young engineer named Norman Woodland lounged in the warm sand waiting for inspiration to wash over him.

Like most professional problem solvers, Norman knew that solutions often came when he allowed his mind to wander. So on this particular day at the beach, he wasn't trying to change the world. He was simply relaxing in the sand, watching the girls go by and recalling, his years in the Boy Scouts of America. For Norman, the Boy Scouts had been a life-changer. That's where he learned to shoot a gun, build a teepee, sail a boat, make a fire, communicate with Morse code, and navigate his way out of a forest. Thanks to scouting, Norman had adjusted to Army life with ease. And thanks to his unique ability to solve tricky

problems, he wound up working at Oak Ridge Laboratories, where he helped develop the first atomic bomb. Norman smiled to himself, wistfully. What does an engineer do after splitting the atom and making the world safe for democracy? Whatever the answer was, doodling, aimlessly in the wet sand seemed like an unlikely answer

until he looked down and saw what he had doodled, N-W, his initials. But the letters didn't look like an N-W or a W, they looked like two dots and three dashes. For no particular reason, Norman dragged his fingers away from the dots and the dashes, leaving five vertical lines in the wet sand, with five vertical spaces in between. Interesting, muttered Norman.

As he pondered the lines in the sand, a pretty girl walked by in a bikini that left little to the imagination. Norman smoothed the lines over and quickly spelled out another word. Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dash, dot, dash, dash, dash, s e, X, Y. The girl in the skimpy bikini was smiling at him, but Norm didn't notice. He was pulling his fingers through the sand again, more deliberately this time. The result? 12 vertical lines with 12 vertical spaces in between, one for every dot and one for every dash.

Good Lord, he thought. Could it be this simple? Could the lines be zeros? Could the spaces be ones? Norman spent the next few hours doodling in the sand, and as he doodled, he felt the same rush of excitement he'd felt in the lab at Oak Ridge, because Norman knew he was on to something big, something universal,

something that would affect more people than the atomic bomb, including the outcome of a future election and the sudden ubiquity of you know who. It took a few decades for the actual technology to catch up with the underlying idea, but by the late 70s, Norman's new language was being translated all over the country. And shortly after that, all over the world. Finally, 43 years after his brainstorm on the beach, Norman Woodland was invited to the White House, where he was presented with a long overdue National Medal of Technology and Innovation.

Ironically, it was George H.W. Bush who awarded him the medal. ironic because just a few months earlier, President Bush had made a campaign stop at the National Grocers Association, where he was invited to try Norman's technology for himself, which he did by dragging a carton of milk over a glass surface that magically determined its cost in a millisecond. Amazing, President Bush had said. Simply amazing. President Bush's astonishment was typical of any consumer in 1976 who saw Norman's technology in action for the first time. Unfortunately, this was not 1976. This was 1992.

And the president's reaction to a simple laser scanner in a checkout line was captured on video, video that ran on the evening news, prompting viewers to wonder if the president had, ever been inside an actual grocery store. Video that inspired the New York Times to publish a front page article that compared his reaction with that of a man seeing fire for the very first time. Overnight, a new narrative was born. President Bush became the candidate who was out of touch with the common man, an elitist who understood nothing about the challenges facing everyday Americans. The press described him as a man who lacked the common touch, a devastating accusation that doomed his bid for re-election and made, you know who, a household name. In other words, not long after he helped develop a new kind of bomb, a former Boy Scout named Norman Woodland helped develop a new kind of language, a language of zeros and ones, inspired by more than,

code, a strange kind of language that first appeared as lines in the sand, but went on to become the lines of the universal product code, now found on the packages of everything we buy, the same lines that cost George Bush a second term in the White House and paved the way for Bill Clinton, a man who understood the importance of the common touch, a touch that may have become a bit too common when he crossed another kind of line with, you know who, a 22-year-old cigar aficionado whose name is now no less memorable than that of the president she served, the name of a devoted intern called Monica Lewinsky.

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The ocean moves us, whether that's surfing a wave or taking in an inspiring view. The ocean feeds us. Sustainable seafood practices bring the ocean's bounty to our plates. The ocean teaches us. How our everyday choices, big and small, make an impact. The ocean delights us, as playful otters restore coastal kelp forests. The ocean connects us. Find your connection at Monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects.