The interrobang’s arrival on the keyboard of Remington Rand’s Model 25 typewriter brought with it a new wave of interest in the character. In common with its appearance in Richard Isbell’s Americana,1 the mark’s transition from hot metal type to the typewriter keyboard was the result of a happy coincidence: a Remington Rand graphic designer saw ATF’s sample brochure for the font2 and lobbied in turn for its provision on his company’s typewriters. The Model 25’s replaceable key and typehead3 allowed different characters to be installed as required, providing the perfect vehicle for promoting this as-yet unproven mark of punctuation. Remington Rand entertained ideas of effecting a revolution in punctuation with its new interrobang key, and said as much in an internal newsletter: Read more
Errata
In researching the history of the interrobang I’ve been lucky enough to have corresponded with Penny Speckter, Martin K. Speckter’s widow and an ardent supporter of the mark of punctuation he created. After publishing The Interrobang, part 1, she got in touch to let me know that Martin in fact did not lobby for the inclusion of the interrobang in Richard Isbell’s Americana typeface (as mentioned in the newspaper article I cited to that effect1) but that instead it came about purely by chance. I’m happy to set the record straight here for Mrs Speckter — her support has been invaluable and is typical of the generosity and enthusiasm of many of the people I’ve been in contact with over the course of putting together this material.
Commenters here on Shady Characters have also helped a great deal by ferreting out mistakes both large and small. One inaccuracy I think is worth mentioning here is my use of the term ‘religion of the Book’ in The Pilcrow, part 2 to refer to Christianity — I hadn’t appreciated that this could apply equally to a number of other religions, and the way I’ve used it here is a little misleading. Thanks to Theodore for pointing this out!
I don’t plan to update the articles themselves just yet (getting each new article ready for publication inevitably occupies all my attention), but I’ve made changes to the offending posts, and I hope that this note goes some way to mitigating these errors. Again, thank you for all the interest in Shady Characters and look out for The Interrobang, part 2 next weekend!
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Publishers’ Auxiliary. “Interrobang (!?) Expresses Modern Life’s Incredibility.”
The Interrobang, part 1 of 2
1962 was a momentous year for the United States of America. John Glenn became the first American, and only the second human, to reach orbit;1 the Kennedy administration successfully negotiated the nuclear tightrope of the Cuban missile crisis, taking the world within a hair’s breadth of nuclear war in the process;2 and NASA launched AT&T’s Telstar, the world’s first telecommunications satellite, ushering in a new era of instantaneous global communications.3 Consumer society too was reaching new heights: advertising ruled, and the ad men were at the peak of their game. Read more
Can you help trace these graphic designers?
The first of two interrobang articles is well underway, but before it’s published I’d like to do everything I can to trace two particular graphic designers who were active back in 1962.
First is Larry Ottino of New York, author of The Art of Lettering with Pen & Brush and a specialist in hand-written scripts produced using brushes and pens. I’ve been unable to find contact details for either Mr. Ottino or Lester Rossin Associates Inc., the erstwhile publisher of his book.
Second is Joe Carter of Chicago, and here I’ve drawn almost a complete blank. All I know thus far is that both he and Larry Ottino submitted interrobang designs for inclusion in the May-June ’62 issue of Type Talks magazine, published by the now-defunct Advertising Typographers Association of America.
If you know how to reach Larry Ottino, Joe Carter or their respective families, I’d be very grateful if you could let me know via the Contact page.
Stay tuned for the first interrobang entry this weekend!
The Pilcrow, part 3 of 3
¶ Taking pride of place at the head of every new paragraph, the pilcrow had carved out a literal niche for itself at the heart of late medieval writing. Boldly inked by the rubricator, pilcrows grew ever more elaborate and time-consuming to add. Unfortunately the deadline is not a modern invention; occasionally, time would run out before the rubricator could complete his work and the white space carefully reserved for the pilcrow went undecorated. With the advent of the printing press, the volume of printed documents to be rubricated grew exponentially and it became increasingly difficult to attend to them all. The pilcrow became a ghost, and the indented paragraph was born in its stead.1