Thunder Dog by Michael Hingson Page A

NFB, to test the machines out in the real world. It was my job to teach people how to use them and to write the training curriculum. I traveled from place to place, collecting data about how people were using the machines, and then incorporated that into recommendations for the production model of the machines. I was the day-to-day guy. I had a ball traveling around the country, teaching people how to use the machines and helping to make their experience a good one so they could use the machines and provide us with feedback. My findings helped refine the design and make it more user-friendly. I even helped come up with the concept of a “nominator” key, which directed the machine to read aloud the names and functions of the control keys. We also came up with a “Contrast” control to make light print appear darker to the camera, thus widening the amount of material those first machines could read.
    In 1978, I began to work directly for Ray at Kurzweil Computer Products. I ended up doing the same thing I had done before, working on human-factor studies and coming up with ways to make the machine better and even more user-friendly. Later I ended up moving into the sales force and selling the commercial version of the product. I took a Dale Carnegie sales course and helped to move the reading machine into the corporate world, where it was a great product for companies who wanted to scan documents. Eventually Xerox purchased Kurzweil’s company in order to get at the scanner technology and brought in their own people. I was the last non-Xerox person to be laid off from the sales force.
    During my time in Boston, I became friends with Aaron Kleiner, who had been Ray’s roommate at MIT and who worked closely with Ray. Once I talked Aaron into going with me to see the first Star Wars movie. It was a very big deal and lines were long. He couldn’t believe a blind guy wanted to go to the movies. He thought it was even more hilarious when I asked him to describe the visuals. “That was a challenge,” Aaron said. “I’ll never forget trying to describe the cantina scene. ‘Uh, there’s a guy with the head of a grasshopper and the body of a horse . . .’”
    Aaron and I had an even more interesting experience at a ritzy restaurant in Boston’s Back Bay. There were three of us: Aaron, his wife, and me. The minute we walked in the front door, thed’ took one look at my guide dog, Holland, and said, “We’re sorry. We don’t allow dogs. You can’t come in here.” I wasn’t too upset; since I’d dealt with this before.
    “This is wrong,” I said. “They don’t know the law.”
    We left and had dinner at a different restaurant, but Aaron’s wife was shaking, she was so angry. I told her, “Don’t worry. I know what to do.”
    The next day, I printed out a copy of the guide dog law and contacted the local chapter of the National Federation of the Blind. I rounded up six or seven other blind people with guide dogs, and we showed up for dinner back at the restaurant with the snootyd’. We opened the door and surged in, a pack of blind warriors with our trusty dogs.
    Thed’ stopped. Looked at us. Blinked. Considered his options. Caved.
    “Welcome,” he said.
    We had a wonderful dinner and were treated well. The restaurant staff was solicitous, even offering food to the guide dogs.
    Blind power .
    The Kurzweil Reading Machine was revolutionary. On January 13, 1976, the finished product was rolled out by Raymond Kurzweil and NFB during a news conference. It gained him national recognition. On the day of the machine’s unveiling, Walter Cronkite used the machine to give his signature send-off, “And that’s the way it is, January 13, 1976.” While listening to the Today show, musician Stevie Wonder heard a demonstration of the device and purchased the first production version of the Kurzweil Reading Machine, beginning a lifelong friendship with Ray. Ray was later inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame