What Was It Like to Work on the ENIAC?

In the tech realm, everyone knows about the ENIAC. My mother's brothers were each more than acquainted with it. They worked with it.

Vacuum tube. I remember when
television sets had them.

The ENIAC (Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer) was the world's first programmable, electronic, general-purpose digital computer. It was developed during World War II (1943–1945) at the University of Pennsylvania's Moore School of Electrical Engineering by John Mauchly, J. Presper Eckert, and their team, under U.S. Army contract for the Ballistics Research Laboratory.

The ENIAC was built to calculate artillery firing tables quickly—complex ballistic trajectories that took humans days but ENIAC handled in seconds (e.g., 5,000 additions per second, vastly faster than mechanical predecessors). 
Here are some key specs to wrap your head around:

• Used approximately 17,468 vacuum tubes, 70,000 resistors, 10,000 capacitors.
• Weighed 30 tons, occupied a 50x30-foot room (a little larger than my wife's 40x30-foot garage) and consumed 150 kW of power.
• Programmed by rewiring plugboards and switches, not stored programs. It took days to change tasks.
• Unveiled publicly in February 1946 (post-war), it influenced later computers like EDVAC and UNIVAC.

It would be fair to say that the ENIAC marked the dawn of modern electronic computing.  
According to The Evolution of Computers Wordpress site:
The first generation of computers occurred from 1946 to 1958, it was called The Vacuum Tube Years. The vacuum tube was an essential step in the progress of early computers. A vacuum tube was a sealed glass or metal-ceramic enclosure used in electronic circuit which controlled the flow of electrons inside. The air inside the sealed tubes was removed by a vacuum The purpose of the vacuum tubes in the first generation of computers was to be an amplifier and a switch at the same time. The vacuum tubes had no moving parts which enabled it to take weak signals and make them stronger. In other words, the vacuum tube could amplify weak signals. The second purpose for the vacuum tubes was for the easy management of stopping and starting the flow of electricity instantly. This was referred to as the switch. It was these two components, amplifier and switch, that made the ENIAC computer likely. 
Reading about the ENIAC brought to mind a comment my uncle Ferrell Sandy made around 15 years ago before he passed. When my mother and I would visit, we'd often go to an Italian restaurant at the bottom of the hill where he always ordered Chicken Marsala.* When I was growing up my dad would ask--at family reunions--what he was working on. He always replied, "I can't tell you." He was a physicist who worked in a consulting firm that had two clients, the CIA and the NSC. 
In 2010 or 11, fifty years had passed and things were very changed and he could share a few stories, including his experience working on the ENIAC. As noted above, the ENIAC had over 17,000 vacuum tubes. So when I asked about his experience, Uncle Ferrell said, "It would run for five minutes, and then stop, and you'd walk around and try to find which vacuum tube burned out." Once you found it, you could replace it and start it up again. A vacuum tube would burn out around every five minutes.
This was the beginning of the computer revolution.

* Chicken Marsala is a classic Italian-American dish of thin, pan-fried chicken cutlets served in a rich sauce made with Marsala wine, mushrooms, and aromatics like garlic and shallots, often thickened and finished with butter or cream.

Noblesse Oblige: Redeeming Privilege in an Age of Resentment

The United States is not just a melting pot of races and cultures, it's also a melting pot of languages and ideas. One concept we inherited (or borrowed) from the French is summed up in the expression noblesse oblige. 

In our time, the failures of Western Civilization—colonialism, inequality, exploitation—are often highlighted as though they define the whole. Yet Western Civ also gave rise to constitutional government, the rule of law, scientific inquiry, individual rights, abolition movements, and ideals of human dignity that fueled reform from within. Its greatest strength may have been self-critique—the capacity to confront injustice using its own moral vocabulary. At its best, it calls the powerful to responsibility, to service rather than domination.

The French phrase noblesse oblige literally means “nobility obligates.” It expresses the idea that those who possess privilege—whether of birth, wealth, education, or power—carry a moral responsibility toward those with less. French is a beautiful language, and the concept here is beautiful as well.

This idea emerged from the hierarchical structure of medieval and early modern France. In a feudal society, nobles enjoyed legal advantages, land ownership, and social prestige. Yet embedded within that system was an expectation: privilege was not merely to be enjoyed, but to be stewarded. A noble was expected to show courage in battle, generosity toward dependents, protection of the weak, and a certain standard of honorable conduct. Rank demanded character.

The phrase itself gained wider usage in the 17th and 18th centuries and entered English in the 19th century. In Victorian Britain and America, it became shorthand for the belief that the upper classes should lead in philanthropy, public service, and moral example. Industrial magnates who endowed libraries, universities, and hospitals sometimes saw themselves as acting under this principle. Andrew Carnegie funded a total of 2,509 libraries worldwide between 1883 and 1919, including libraries in both Duluth and Hibbing.

Critics, however, have long noted the ambiguity of noblesse oblige. At its best, it encourages stewardship, generosity, and civic responsibility. At its worst, they say it reinforces paternalism—implying that help flows downward from a superior class rather than recognizing shared dignity and mutual obligation. 

This is another example, as I noted last week, of how it's better to do the right thing for the wrong reason than to  do the wrong thing.   

Carnegie Library interior, Duluth MN

In modern democratic societies, the phrase has expanded beyond hereditary aristocracy. Today it may refer to the ethical duties of CEOs, elected officials, celebrities, or anyone whose influence exceeds that of others. The core insight remains relevant: privilege is not morally neutral. Power and advantage carry responsibility. Noblesse oblige reminds us that status is not only a benefit—it carries a burden of expectation.

There is always a price for negligence when we don’t assume responsibility for our privilege.  

What's often missing when discussing the responsibilities of privilege is how much of this attitude stems from the Bible. Jesus emphasized stewardship, charity, and accountability for the powerful. Biblical ideas like "To whom much is given, much will be required" (Luke 12:48) and Christ's example of servant leadership aligned with the notion that higher status demanded greater service.

Christianity profoundly shaped and reinforced this concept within feudal Europe, especially from the 11th–13th centuries onward. The code of chivalry—which developed in France around the late 12th century (associated with knighthood and the ideal of the chevalier)—was explicitly rooted in medieval Christian ethics. It blended warrior duties with Christian virtues: piety, protection of the weak, generosity, justice, and humility. Chivalry was never fully codified but was popularized in literature (e.g., Arthurian legends) and promoted by the Church to civilize the warrior class. 

Without Christian influence, feudal obligations might have remained more pragmatic or contractual (as in some pre-Christian warrior societies). Christianity infused them with ethical depth—turning raw power into a calling to honorable service, mercy, and protection of the weak.

These attitudes which were embedded in Old Testament Judaism didn't begin with Christianity, but they flowered there. The principle echoes throughout Scripture: from the prophets' calls for justice and care for the widow, orphan, and stranger, to the New Testament's parables of stewardship and the servant-king who washes feet rather than lords it over others. Jesus Himself is the ultimate embodiment of noblesse oblige—the divine Son who, possessing all authority, laid it down to serve and sacrifice for the least.

In our flattened, egalitarian age, the phrase can sound archaic or elitist. Yet its deeper truth endures: whatever gifts, opportunities, or positions we've been entrusted with—be they talents, resources, influence, or simply the accident of birth in a prosperous society—come with strings attached. Not strings of guilt, but of grateful obligation. The one who has received much is called to give much, not out of superiority, but out of recognition that all good things come from above and are meant to flow through us to bless others.

This is the quiet revolution at the heart of the biblical vision: true nobility isn't about hoarding privilege but about channeling it toward the common good. In a culture quick to demand rights and resent hierarchies, noblesse oblige—reclaimed through its Christian roots—challenges us to ask: What have I been given? And how will I steward it faithfully?

Perhaps that's the meditation we need today—not to reject privilege, but to redeem it. To see our advantages not as entitlements to exploit or excuses to withdraw, but as divine trusts calling us to humble, generous service. For in the end, the measure of our nobility isn't the height of our station, but the depth of our willingness to bend low for the sake of others. As Christ showed us, the greatest among us must become the servant of all—and therein lies the truest freedom and the most enduring legacy.

Congratulations, You’re Emotionally Stable (How to Survive a Wellness Visit Without Snapping)

Dan Hansen Self-Explorations  

Dan Hansen was a very private person in many respects. Understandably he was anxious to protect his "self" from abuse or exploitation. In 2016 he shared with me a number of short essays that opened windows into his inner life. I share this one here to give readers an awareness of how we ourselves can sometimes be blind to how we come across in our interactions with people different from ourselves.

"Rampage" -- Illustration by Dan Hansen

I had an experience today that might be good background material for the article or archival material for the book.  I have what they call an SP catheter.  It is surgically installed through the skin into the bladder just above the pubic bone.  Every 30 days I go to the clinic to get it changed out.  Except today I was lined up with a home health care nurse.  This way I don't have to leave the house.  The care agency's insurance that provides my assisted-living care isn't covered in the policy to change out my catheter.  An outside agency must come in or I go to a clinic.

A nurse in her mid 50s came today at around 1:50 pm.  It required over an hour’s worth of paperwork.  The questions get very personal such as: What is your disease?  Does it progress?  How fast does it progress? Do you get depressed?  Have you ever been depressed more than twice in a week?  Do you ever have anxiety?  Do you drink alcohol or use any substances?  Are you single?  What are your religious preferences?  It feels a lot like an interrogation to coerce a criminal confession.  

They just keep hammering away on you as if they want you to snap... So they can write down notes ("subject appears to be emotionally distraught or unstable").  Obviously 70% of the questions I must lie about to protect myself.  Then I got these comments: "You seem very well-adjusted."  "I'm surprised at how well you're doing for your situation."  "Do they have a bus here that takes you out?"  "Oh you have a van?... Who drives you?"  "Are you friends with the residents here?"  

After an hour of this she spent 15 minutes checking my vitals.  Blood pressure, breathing, heart rate.  No one at the clinic does this... maybe a blood pressure strap around the arm. It only takes a minute.  She said my blood pressure was normal but then she held the stethoscope on my chest for several minutes, telling me my heart rate was elevated. She basically wouldn't stop with the stethoscope until I did some Zen Buddhist shit with my breathing to slow my heart rate down.  When it finally slowed down she noted it and stopped. 

When it came time to actually change my catheter it took her 25 minutes with the aid of the PCA here holding my pants open for her.  Normally this process takes two minutes at the clinic.  Then she told me how much sediment was in my urine.  She kept repeating it over and over.  Do you have a fever?  Do you know how much sediment is in your urine?  Again and again.  I Kept saying, "Yeah I need to drink more water...  It's no big deal".  I started to repeat "It's ok, I'll drink more water" every time she repeated herself.  This went on for at least 10 minutes.  

After I was all done she had the nerve to want to chit chat and further interrogate me about what I like to do in my free time. When I said movies she went on and on about Tuesday and Friday deals at the theater. I was just agreeing with everything she said until it turned in to a round of interrogation about which days I prefer, Tuesday deals or Friday deals. I just said I go to the theater on the day I’m there. This went on for about 10 minutes until she finally left and her final comment was "you're very easy going." It was like she was baiting me the whole time to snap and I never did. But I sure as hell am never doing a home healthcare nurse catheter change over again in my life.

It took me about five hours to recover from the 2 hour psychological onslaught. it is quite the dehumanizing process. It makes a person confront their own insignificance as a disabled "unit".  To see in their eyes I'm a commodity devoid of value. Then to imagine how ubiquitous this very sentiment is. You have now entered the Twilight Zone *gulp*.  It's a creepy feeling Ed.  Zombie apocalypse stuff and you're the only one left.

Dan Hansen, Jan 16, 2016

Here's How Much a Drawing of a Foot Is Worth

I first saw this story in Hyperallergic: Michelangelo Drawing of a Foot Could Fetch $2M at Auction.  When it actually fetched 27 million many folks were mightily surprised.

This news story brought to mind an anecdote from when I interviewed comedian/actor Jonathan Winters in 2004 for an article about his art. Winters, who enjoyed painting, had a room in his Malibu home where he painted.

EN: What makes your work unique?

JW: Well, that’s an interesting question. All I ever hope to do with anything is try to be a little bit different from the guy on the wall. As I mentioned earlier, I look for style. A woman turned to me the other day and said, “How much is your largest painting?” The biggest I get is about 18 x 24. And I said $25,000. And she said, “Oh my God! I never dreamed it would be that much.” Well, I said, “The painting’s a joke. The idea is worth $25,000.” And she didn’t get that, so she said, and I get this a lot, >>> alters voice << “If you weren’t Jonathan Winters, you couldn’t ask those kind of prices.” And I said, “But I am Jonathan Winters.” Why would I put Henry Walker, or Lyle Davenberger on my painting?

Sink or swim. I get annoyed very quickly. If you don't want to pay that--now the woman is wearing heavy jewelry, pulls up in a brand new Jaguar--You’re talking to a guy who’s 77. I see these assholes coming in with all this glass on their hands bringing in a Delta flight, dickering with me... and I say, “Look, let me tell you something. You’re best bet is to go to Tijuana and get something on velvet. That would be tops $35 and a picture of Elvis.”

I’ve only painted 150 paintings in my life. They’re not all 25,000 for crying out loud. My drawings are like $500, framed pen and ink things. Red Skelton, for an 8 x 10, gets $45,000.

But you’re dealing with people. People say, “After you die do you think these will be worth anything at all?”

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Well, I doubt Michelangelo's drawing of a foot had much value when he first created it, though it is quite striking how much work went into painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Every face, foot and hand required special attention.

The five-inch sketch, which dates back 500 years, fetched 27 million dollars at Christie's auction house. According to the Hyperallergic story, "Its existence was completely unknown to scholars until a Christie's specialist in the Old Master Drawings department, Giada Damen, rediscovered the red-chalk-on-paper work in a digital photograph sent to the auction house as part of a batch of inquiries before it was authenticated earlier this year." The sketch was made sometime around 1511 or 1512 and is titled “The Libyan Sibyl on the Sistine Chapel ceiling.”

It makes you wonder what other "buried treasures" are out there in the art world.  

If you want to see "unburied treasures" from the Renaissance era, I suggest that you make Italy a destination. My brother and his wife saw DaVinci's "The Last Supper" in Milan a few years back. [If you're in Italy for the Olympics this week, don't neglect grabbing the opportunity to see some of the Renaissance period art and other treasures there.] 

When I visited Parma in 2023, my AirBnB was directly across the street from the National Gallery (Galleria Nazionale di Parma). I was astonished to find DaVinci's "Head of a Woman" (aka La Scapigliata.) Long before I ever went to Italy I fell in love with this paintng and did a few pen and ink drawings of my own based on this piece. What is it worth? No, it's not for sale. Few of DaVinci's works can be purchased, as they are national treasures and irreplaceable. This piece, an oil and umber sketch on poplar panel circa 1506-08, was acquired by the National Gallery in the 1830s or 40s. You can read about my exciting encounter with it here.

Bottom Line: Art seems to increase in value based on who's signature adorns it.  

   

Michelangelo's five-inch sketch has been privately owned by a Northern California collector whose family reportedly owned the masterwork since the 1700s, passing it down through multiple generations. (The seller's name has not been disclosed, and I'm curious what else they own. Part of the proceeds may have to be used for security services.) Since authentication is an important step in the process of determining value, the owners no doubt had their stressful moments for a spell.

They say Michelangelo first used pen and ink and black chalk in his earliest studies for the Vatican City frescoes before favoring red chalk for his drawings of live models. He was believed to have produced hundreds of these drawings, although most have been lost to history. Alas. 

The drawing of the Sibyl’s foot is one of a small group of surviving red chalk studies, among them Studies for The Libyan Sibyl, housed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Art historians regard these works as among Michelangelo’s most accomplished pieces in red chalk. Although roughly 600 of his drawings are known to exist, nearly all — except for perhaps ten — reside in museum or institutional collections, according to Christie’s.

 

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Related Link

Full Jonathan Winters interview