University at Buffalo - The State University of New York

Published: February 13, 2003

By DONNA LONGENECKER
Reporter Assistant Editor

While some (math-phobics) still may relish the simple beauty and non-threatening functionality of the abacus, there are those who have made the transition to more challenging computing gadgets—many who, in fact, still remember giving up the slide rule for Texas Instrument's scientific calculator back in the early 1970s.

Nancy Schiller and Ben Wagner display some of the slide rules that are part of the exhibit in the Science and Engineering Library.
PHOTO: Donna Longenecker

For all you vanguards of low-tech and (former) geeks longing to recapture the days spent strolling the halls of academia with a slide rule strapped to your belt loop, visit the Science and Engineering Library's exhibit, "Go Figure! Slide Rules and other Calculating Curiosities," on view through March 31. The exhibit features more than 50 slide rules, abacuses and other mechanical contraptions belonging to UB faculty and staff, and offers a glimpse into number-crunching before the advent of the calculator, says Nancy Schiller, engineering librarian in the Arts and Sciences Libraries and exhibition coordinator.

Slide rules date back to the 1630s but came into prominent use during the 19th century and especially during the Cold War era, when the U.S. sought to strengthen public school-based math and science programs. Now they are highly prized as collector's items—some valued in the thousands of dollars. There even are Web sites devoted to the lore of these elegant instruments, and MIT offers a one-hour mini-course during winter break on how to use one.

"It's a packed classroom and every student is brandishing a slide rule," notes Schiller, describing the MIT course. "People have an affection for them. It's not that long ago that they were in common use and now they're collectors items."

Rectilinear and circular slide rules were the most popular shapes. In the U.S., the biggest manufacturer was Keuffel & Esser (K&E). The company produced its last slide rule in 1979, which it donated to the Smithsonian Institution. The U.S., Great Britain and Japan were among the largest manufacturers of slide rules.

Depending on who you talk to, slide rules carried a certain cachet—especially among engineering students.

"In the early 70s, most science-and-engineering students routinely carried around slide rules in cases attached to their belts, rather like a gunslinger," says Schiller.

Ben Wagner demonstrates the gunslinger look popular among science-and-engineering students in the 1970s.
PHOTO: Donna Longenecker

Ben Wagner, chemistry and physics librarian and a self-described former geek well-known for dashing around campus with a slide rule attached to his hip, was especially fond of his mahogany slide rule and its Teflon grooves which "really did provide exceptionally smooth operation."

"Well, I really used them two years solid in college and if you carry them around, you get rather attached to them," Wagner recalls. "They would hang like a gunslinger from your belt and as I moved through campus, I would kind of have to hold it in my hand so it wouldn't bounce all over the place. You carried it with you to each class, to each lab that you went to—that's how you could tell if you were one of the geeks on campus."

Wagner's father used a Hemmi "Sun" bamboo slide rule, on view at the exhibit, while obtaining his math education degree. Bamboo was known for its stability, the fact that it didn't warp as easily as other materials and for the ease with which the surfaces slide over each other. The Hemmi was made in Japan and coated with white celluloid—this type was produced for more than 50 years. At its peak, the Hemmi Slide Rule Co., based in Tokyo, made a million slide rules a year.

Joseph A. Gardella Jr., professor of chemistry and associate dean in the College of Arts and Sciences who loaned several slide rules to the exhibit, says he preferred circular slide rules.

"I was the last of the slide-rule generation; I learned them in high school and used them in college—calculators were first introduced during my freshman year in college. I had one (a calculator), but still used a slide rule," says Gardella.

"I like the circular one the best; you could put it in your pocket protector with your pens and mechanical pencils. I do believe I carried one on my belt once or twice, but I also carried a calculator on my belt. People carry cell phones and palm pilots on their belts; geeks keep the tradition alive," he says.

"I love slide rules and (the) abacus because they are so simple but show ways to do real sophisticated calculations. Keep in mind that the atomic bomb was designed with slide rules," he points out. Gardella says he inherited several of his slide rules from an uncle who collected calculating machines and had one of the first Hewlett Packard calculators.

Circular slide rules also were popular advertising gifts, often used as promotional freebies, says Schiller. "Even though they were the earliest form of slide rule, circular slide rules really didn't become popular until the advent of plastic, which made them easier and cheaper to manufacture," she adds. A circular slide rule donated by Gardella features the periodic table of elements and a pullout insert with Greek characters, constants, formulas and terms.

Jim Atwood, professor and chair of the Department of Chemistry, swears that he never wore a slide rule on his belt, but that he was quite proficient in its use. He notes that "too many significant figures quoted in a calculation were not much of a problem with a slide rule."

Apparently, mathematicians also tried to diminish the geek factor of carrying slide rules. Schiller says that, according to Richard Shaw, professor emeritus in the School of Engineering and Applied Sciences, "mathematicians preferred to carry their slide rules in their pockets and not on their belts, like the engineers."

"First-year students at colleges and universities were taught how to use these now-antiquated devices on eight-foot-long demonstration models, like the one displayed over the exhibit cases, on loan from the mathematics department," says Schiller.

The exhibit also features two Russian-made slide rules, one with a Soviet-issue plastic case in what Schiller describes as an "alarming shade of green." An official "stamp of quality" is embossed on the case. The price? Four rubles and 29 kopeks, purchased in Kiev by Aleksandr Yarovinskiy's uncle. Yarovinskiy is an undergraduate electrical engineering student at UB whose uncle used the slide rule in his vocational education.

The "Blast Effects Computer" (BEC) circular slide rule may be the most curious and perhaps most relevant exhibit now that war looms on the horizon. The BEC was designed to calculate potential damage and injury levels to people, houses, cars and trucks, etc., resulting from the detonation of explosives. Still in use but not as a slide rule, the BEC Version 4.0 can be found on the Internet formatted as an Excel spreadsheet.

Other unique items featured in the exhibit include a range of early calculators, both electronic and manual, and several abacuses. Must-sees are the Lightning Adding Machine and the Chadwick Magic Brain Calculator.

According to the instructions that come with the "Magic Brain," it "is a technical instrument that solves your math problems with ease. It requires perfect practice to achieve perfection. Practice makes perfect...in a few weeks you will be doing your mathematical calculations as fast as adding machines, many times the cost of this instrument." If only I'd had one in fifth grade.

In addition to Schiller, others who worked on the exhibit include Ruth Oberg, Kim Wagner, Terry McCormack and Peggy Pajak, all of the University Libraries.