Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, April 3, 1994 TAG: 9404070293
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: B-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By JOSHUA QUITTNER NEWSDAY
DATELINE: WAINSCOTT, N.Y. LENGTH: Medium
This series of events might poison some people, might make them rattle a hard fist at the colorless sky. But not Henderson. ``It's perfect,'' he says, smiling the smile of a man whose world view has, once again, been ratified.
Henderson hates technology. He hates it so much he has created an organization of techno-baiters, called The Lead Pencil Club, (a division of The Contraptionless Corporation of America). The club's letterhead describes it as ``a pothole on the Information Highway.'' Its members ask:
``What's the hurry?''
Henderson's real job is running The Pushcart Press, a small publishing house based in Wainscott, on Long Island's East End, where he lives. From his bucolic home, Henderson fired off the club's Manifesto:
``. . . We are rushing to nowhere and we are running on spiritual empty. Soon, blessed with fax, voice and e-mail, computer hookups and TVs with hundreds of channels, we won't want to leave our lonely rooms - not to write a check, work, visit, shop, exercise or make love (virtual reality will serve the sexual urgings.)''
The club appears to have found a following: Since the Manifesto appeared in two national newspapers a few months ago, more than 100 supporters a week have been sending letters to Henderson, asking how they can join. Henderson sends them back a pamphlet, which explains that there are no dues, and offers to sell them a T-shirt depicting a sharpened No. 2 pencil, emblazoned with the words, ``What's the Hurry?'' ($19, plus $1 for shipping).
Aside from the usual rantings from people who suspect the CIA is putting electric implants in their brains, most of the letters come from people who have thought a lot about the bad things technology can bring. As one man from Pennsylvania wrote:
``My computer does not communicate, not even with my wife's computer upstairs. I communicate, when I have anything to say, by speaking or putting something on paper. The technofreaks are trying to sell us a further corruption of communications which would benefit mainly themselves''
Is this for real?
``We're doing this for fun, but obviously there's a serious side to it,'' says Henderson. ``We're overwhelmed with gadgetry.'' While he doesn't use a personal computer, Henderson's wife, Genie, does, and so do most of his friends. ``My friends are absolutely besotted with technology.''
What does Henderson expect to achieve? Does he expect people to abandon their fax machines, disconnect their voice mail and toss their computers on a smoldering pyre?
No, he says, ``I wouldn't want to stop it. I just want people to think about it. I'm just raising questions. I'm not sure I have the answers.''
Besides, even Henderson admits to sending a fax or two. ``I bike to the fax shop, 20 miles round trip. It's great exercise.''
by CNB