https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Atkinson
I made a trip to Dallas circa 1987 or 1988 to see him speak about HyperCard. I remember in the Q&A when an audience member asked about the interface being non-Mac-like (others had made the same complaint), Atkinson asked for an example, and the questioner brought up icons that took only a single click in HC to activate them. Atkinson replied with something like, "What other button requires two clicks to activate?"
R.I.P. Bill Atkinson, 74
Moderators: FourthWorld, heatherlaine, Klaus, kevinmiller, robinmiller
Re: R.I.P. Bill Atkinson, 74
RIP - such an impact on the world.
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Re: R.I.P. Bill Atkinson, 74
Bill was always my favorite at Apple. Woz could do chip design better than anyone but Bill's HyperCard was the most beautiful app and inspired the WWW. In my last lifetime contributing to the El Paso Mac User Group, I dabbled in some MacPoetry. What's that? Here's an oldie:
The Rhyme of the Ancient MacMariner by Barry Jay Levine (c)1988
"The time has come,” John Sculley said, "to speak of many things.
Of Macintosh, and SCSI drives, and HyperCard that sings."
"I’ve thought for years," John breathed to me, with lips pressed to my ear,
"That once the Interface was found we’d all deserve a beer.
"I’ve never once, with due respect, had question number one,
Or asked for justifying cause from William Atkinson.
Why make the change? What could be wrong? I could not grasp the plan
In modifying double-clicking, button-pushing hands.
"A single click?” I questioned Bill. What brought on such a hack?”
"It’s two clicks!” howled the ghosts of yore, Steve Jobs and Wozniak.
"We’ve demo disks, instruction tapes. There’s demo booths we’ve manned
That sing the praise of double-clicking, button-pushing hands.”
"It’s life itself,” Bill said to me, "two brains; one left, one right
That integrate with smell and touch and taste and sound and sight.
A cosmic unifying force, a Hyperspatial span
That leads us past the double-clicking, button-pushing hands.”
"Fools’ gold, a hoax, not true!” said I (ex-syncophant in flight).
What could be next, I wondered (scared), a trackball for hand right?
As I began to shake and moan, a wretched shell, a mess,
Bill Atkinson retraced his steps and, jumping on his desk,
Began a tale of epic lore, of Herculean toil.
To fight Big Blue (a dream come true) and pin-striped suits despoil!
Johnny-Boy, dear Scull ‘o mine,” Bill slapped him ‘bout the face,
"Sitting still, inertia tends to keep you in one place!
We’ve traveled far in four short years; no reason to stop now.
You cannot cork the human mind. Be damned the sacred cows!
"In ‘84 we started all, minds seeking to expand.
Wouldst thou be recidivist; an organic rubber band?
What things to see, my dear friend John, it really wouldn’t hurt
To view a HyperCard’ing group in Apple Bowling shirts.
"Let’s stick the short view!” Bill exploded, hands before his eyes.
"I’ve had my fill of DOS and UNIX (dirty pack of lies)!
We’ve got the promise of tomorrow, seen the brave new land
Without the strain of double-clicking, button-pushing hands.
"We are the mouse that roared,” said Bill, "an upstart company
Creating Desktop Publishing, an entire industry!
The User Groups await our ads, MTV bored they be.
We start a feeding frenzy with each SuperBowl they see.”
He bound away, first giving me a Hypercoded script
That signed away his worldly goods (his bowling shirt was skipped).
"Hell’s bells and jive!” John Sculley said. "We’ve Marketing to feed!”
And trotted down the halls to meet with bankers dressed in tweed.
My eyes shed tears, that fateful day, when Atkinson awoke
And found his brain had metamorph’d to fire, sparks, and smoke.
But though he’s shown the way above, and though I heard his plans,
I interface with double-clicking, button-pushing hands.
The Rhyme of the Ancient MacMariner by Barry Jay Levine (c)1988
"The time has come,” John Sculley said, "to speak of many things.
Of Macintosh, and SCSI drives, and HyperCard that sings."
"I’ve thought for years," John breathed to me, with lips pressed to my ear,
"That once the Interface was found we’d all deserve a beer.
"I’ve never once, with due respect, had question number one,
Or asked for justifying cause from William Atkinson.
Why make the change? What could be wrong? I could not grasp the plan
In modifying double-clicking, button-pushing hands.
"A single click?” I questioned Bill. What brought on such a hack?”
"It’s two clicks!” howled the ghosts of yore, Steve Jobs and Wozniak.
"We’ve demo disks, instruction tapes. There’s demo booths we’ve manned
That sing the praise of double-clicking, button-pushing hands.”
"It’s life itself,” Bill said to me, "two brains; one left, one right
That integrate with smell and touch and taste and sound and sight.
A cosmic unifying force, a Hyperspatial span
That leads us past the double-clicking, button-pushing hands.”
"Fools’ gold, a hoax, not true!” said I (ex-syncophant in flight).
What could be next, I wondered (scared), a trackball for hand right?
As I began to shake and moan, a wretched shell, a mess,
Bill Atkinson retraced his steps and, jumping on his desk,
Began a tale of epic lore, of Herculean toil.
To fight Big Blue (a dream come true) and pin-striped suits despoil!
Johnny-Boy, dear Scull ‘o mine,” Bill slapped him ‘bout the face,
"Sitting still, inertia tends to keep you in one place!
We’ve traveled far in four short years; no reason to stop now.
You cannot cork the human mind. Be damned the sacred cows!
"In ‘84 we started all, minds seeking to expand.
Wouldst thou be recidivist; an organic rubber band?
What things to see, my dear friend John, it really wouldn’t hurt
To view a HyperCard’ing group in Apple Bowling shirts.
"Let’s stick the short view!” Bill exploded, hands before his eyes.
"I’ve had my fill of DOS and UNIX (dirty pack of lies)!
We’ve got the promise of tomorrow, seen the brave new land
Without the strain of double-clicking, button-pushing hands.
"We are the mouse that roared,” said Bill, "an upstart company
Creating Desktop Publishing, an entire industry!
The User Groups await our ads, MTV bored they be.
We start a feeding frenzy with each SuperBowl they see.”
He bound away, first giving me a Hypercoded script
That signed away his worldly goods (his bowling shirt was skipped).
"Hell’s bells and jive!” John Sculley said. "We’ve Marketing to feed!”
And trotted down the halls to meet with bankers dressed in tweed.
My eyes shed tears, that fateful day, when Atkinson awoke
And found his brain had metamorph’d to fire, sparks, and smoke.
But though he’s shown the way above, and though I heard his plans,
I interface with double-clicking, button-pushing hands.
Re: R.I.P. Bill Atkinson, 74
Brilliant.
Jacqueline Landman Gay | jacque at hyperactivesw dot com
HyperActive Software | http://www.hyperactivesw.com
HyperActive Software | http://www.hyperactivesw.com