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No Time For Goodbyes - Phiber Optik's Journey to P
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Computer underground Digest Tue Jan 11 1994 Volume 6 : Issue 05
ISSN 1004-042X
Editors: Jim Thomas and Gordon Meyer ([email protected])
Archivist: Brendan Kehoe (BEST WISHES, BK)
Acting Archivist: Stanton McCandlish
Shadow-Archivists: Dan Carosone / Paul Southworth
Ralph Sims / Jyrki Kuoppala
Ian Dickinson
Copy Edifier: Etalon Shrdlu
CONTENTS, #6.05 (Jan 11 1994)
File 1--No Time For Goodbyes - Phiber Optik's Journey to Prison
File 2--Federal Prison Regs on Computer Classes/Books
File 3--How to Contact Phiber Optik
File 4--EFF Helps Eliminate Outrageous Sentences for Computer Crimes
File 5--Brendan Kehoe, the accident and me ((The Passenger))
File 6--Current News (11 Jan '94) of Brendan Kehoe's Recovery
File 7--Technology & Employment Conf, 1/21-22, Cambridge, MA
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Date: Mon, 10 Jan 1994 21:51:15 -0800
From: Emmanuel Goldstein <[email protected]>
Subject: File 1--No Time For Goodbyes - Phiber Optik's Journey to Prison
No Time For Goodbyes
Phiber Optik's Journey to Prison
by Emmanuel Goldstein
It was almost like looking forward to something. That's the feeling
we all had as we started out on Thursday evening, January 6th - one
day before Phiber Optik (hereafter called Mark) was to report to
federal prison in Schuylkill, Pennsylvania for his undefined part
in an undefined conspiracy. We were all hackers of one sort or
another and this trip to a prison was actually a sort of adventure
for us. We knew Mark's curiosity had been piqued as well, though not
to the point of outweighing the dread of the unknown and the emotional
drain of losing a year of life with friends, family, and technology.
There were five of us who would take the trip down to Philadelphia in
a car meant for four - myself, Mark, Walter, Roman, and Rob. The plan
was to meet up with 2600 people in Philadelphia on Thursday, drive out
to Schuylkill and drop Mark off on Friday, drive back and go to the
Philadelphia 2600 meeting, and return later that evening. It sure
sounded better than sending him away on a prison bus.
Knocking on the door of his family's house in Queens that frigid
night, a very weird feeling came over me. How many times had I stood
there before to take Mark to a conference, a hacker meeting, a radio
show, whatever. Today I was there to separate him from everything he
knew. I felt like I had somehow become part of the process, that I was
an agent of the government sent there to finish the dirty work that
they had begun. It doesn't take a whole lot to join the gestapo, I
realized.
I talked to Mark's father for the very first time that night. I had
chatted with his mother on a number of occasions but never his father
before then. He was putting on as brave a front as he could, looking
at any glimmer of optimism as the shape reality would take. The
prison wouldn't be that bad, he would be treated like a human being,
they'd try to visit on the weekends, and anything else that could help
make this seem like an extended vacation. As long as he learns to keep
his mouth shut and not annoy anyone, he'll be all right. Of course, we
both knew full well that Mark's forthright approach *always* managed
to annoy somebody, albeit usually only until they got to know him a
little. Imagining Mark fading into the background just wasn't
something we could do.
Everything in Mark's room was neatly arranged and ready to greet him
upon his return - his computer, manuals, a videotape of "Monty Python
and the Holy Grail" with extra footage that a friend had sent him (I
convinced him to let me borrow it), a first edition of "Hackers" that
Steven Levy had just given him, and tons of other items that could
keep anyone occupied for hours. In fact, he was occupied when I got
there - he and Walter were trying to solve a terminal emulation
problem. My gestapo duties forced me to get him going. It was getting
late and we had to be in Philadelphia at a reasonable time, especially
since it was supposed to start snowing at any moment. And so, the
final goodbyes were said - Mark's mother was especially worried that
he might forget part of his medication or that they'd have difficulty
getting him refills. (In fact, everyone involved in his case couldn't
understand why Mark's serious health problems had never been mentioned
during the whole ordeal or considered during sentencing.) The rest of
us waited in the car so he could have some final moments of privacy -
and also so we wouldn't have to pretend to smile while watching a
family being pulled apart in front of us, all in the name of sending a
message to other hackers.
Our drive was like almost any other. We talked about the previous
night's radio show, argued about software, discussed nuances of Star
Trek, and managed to get lost before we even left New York. (Somehow
we couldn't figure out how the BQE southbound connected with the
Verrazano Bridge which led to an extended stay in Brooklyn.) We talked
about ECHO, the system that Mark has been working on over the past
year and how, since Wednesday, a couple of dozen users had changed
their last names to Optik as a tribute. It meant a lot to him.
When you're in a car with five hackers, there's rarely any quiet
moments and the time goes by pretty quickly. So we arrived in
Philadelphia and (after getting lost again) found our way to South
Street and Jim's Cheesesteaks, a place I had always wanted to take
Mark to, since he has such an affinity to red meat. Jim's is one of my
favorite places in the world and we soon became very comfortable
there. We met up with Bernie S. and some of the other Philadelphia
hackers and had a great time playing with laptops and scanners while
eating cheesesteaks. The people at Jim's were fascinated by us and
asked all kinds of questions about computers and things. We've had so
many gatherings like this in the past, but it was pretty cool to just
pull into a strange city and have it happen again. The karma was good.
We wound up back at Bernie S.'s house where we exchanged theories and
experiences of our various cable and phone companies, played around
with scanners, and just tried to act like everything was as normal as
ever. We also went to an all-night supermarket to find Pennsylvania
things: TastyKakes, Pennsylvania Dutch pretzels, and pickles that we
found out were really from Brooklyn. We managed to confuse the hell
out of the bar code reader by passing a copy of 2600 over it - the
system hung for at least a minute!
It was around five in the morning when one of us finally asked the
question: "Just when exactly does Mark have to be at this prison?" We
decided to call them right then and there to find out. The person
answering the phone was nice enough - she said he had until 11:59 pm
before he was considered a fugitive. This was very good news - it
meant a few more hours of freedom and Mark was happy that he'd get to
go to the Philadelphia meeting after all. As we drifted off to sleep
with the sun rising, we tried to outdo each other with trivial
information about foreign countries. Mark was particularly good with
obscure African nations of years past while I was the only one who
knew what had become of Burma. All told, not a bad last day.
Prison Day arrived and we all got up at the same moment (2:03 pm)
because Bernie S. sounded an airhorn in the living room. Crude, but
effective.
As we recharged ourselves, it quickly became apparent that this was a
very bizarre day. During the overnight, the entire region had been
paralyzed by a freak ice storm - something I hadn't seen in 16 years
and most of the rest of us had never experienced. We turned on the TV
- interstates were closed, power was failing, cars were moving
sideways, people were falling down.... This was definitely cool. But
what about Mark? How could we get him to prison with roads closed and
treacherous conditions everywhere? His prison was about two hours away
in the direction of wilderness and mining towns. If the city was
paralyzed, the sticks must be amputated entirely!
So we called the prison again. Bernie S. did the talking, as he had
done the night before. This time, he wound up getting transferred a
couple of times. They weren't able to find Mark's name anywhere. But
that good fortune didn't last - "Oh yeah, I know who you're talking
about," the person on the phone said. Bernie explained the situation
to them and said that the State Troopers were telling people not to
travel. So what were we to do? "Well," the friendly-sounding voice on
the other end said, "just get here when you can get here." We were
overjoyed. Yet more freedom for Mark all because of a freak of nature!
I told Bernie that he had already been more successful than Mark's
lawyer in keeping him out of prison.
We spent the afternoon getting ready for the meeting, watching The
Weather Channel, and consuming tea and TastyKakes in front of a
roaring fire. At one point we turned to a channel that was hawking
computer education videos for kids. "These children," the fake
schoolteacher was saying with equally fake enthusiasm, "are going to
be at such an advantage because they're taking an early interest in
computers." "Yeah," we heard Mark say with feigned glee from another
room, "they may get to experience *prison* for a year!"
It took about 45 minutes to get all of the ice off our cars.
Negotiating hills and corners became a matter of great concern. But we
made it to the meeting, which took place in the middle of 30th Street
Station, where all of the Amtrak trains were two and a half hours
late. Because of the weather, attendance was less than usual but the
people that showed up were enthusiastic and glad to meet Phiber Optik
as he passed by on his way up the river.
After the meeting we found a huge tunnel system to explore, complete
with steampipes and "Poseidon Adventure" rooms. Everywhere we went,
there were corridors leading to new mysteries and strange sights. It
was amazing to think that the moment when everybody figured Mark would
be in prison, here he was with us wandering around in the bowels of a
strange city. The karma was great.
But then the real fun began. We decided to head back to South Street
to find slow food - in fact, what would probably be Mark's last
genuine meal. But Philadelphia was not like New York. When the city is
paralyzed, it really is paralyzed. Stores close and people stay home,
even on a Friday night. We wanted to take him to a Thai place but both
of the ones we knew of were closed. We embarked on a lengthy search by
foot for an open food place. The sidewalks and the streets were
completely encased in ice. Like drunken sailors in slow motion, we all
staggered down the narrow streets, no longer so much concerned with
food, but just content to remain upright. People, even dogs, were
slipping and falling all around us. We did our best to maintain
dignity but hysterical laughter soon took over because the situation
was too absurd to believe. Here we were in a strange city, unable to
stand upright in a veritable ice palace, trying to figure out a way to
get one of our own into a prison. I knew it was going to be a strange
trip but this could easily beat any drug.
We ate like kings in a Greek place somewhere for a couple of hours,
then walked and crawled back to the cars. The plan now was to take
Mark to prison on Saturday when hopefully the roads would be passable.
Actually, we were all hoping this would go on for a while longer but
we knew it had to end at some point. So, after a stop at an all-night
supermarket that had no power and was forced to ring up everything by
hand, we made it back to Bernie's for what would really be Mark's last
free night. It was well after midnight and Mark was now officially
late for prison. (Mark has a reputation for being late to things but
at least this time the elements could take the blame.) We wound up
watching the "Holy Grail" videotape until it was practically light
again. One of the last things I remember was hearing Mark say how he
wanted to sleep as little as possible so he could be awake and free
longer.
We left Bernie's late Saturday afternoon. It was sad because the aura
had been so positive and now it was definitely ending. We were leaving
the warmth of a house with a fireplace and a conversation pit,
journeying into the wild and the darkness with wind chill factors well
below zero. And this time, we weren't coming back.
We took two cars - Bernie and Rob in one; me, Mark, Walter, and Roman
in the other. We kept in touch with two way radios which was a very
good idea considering the number of wrong turns we always manage to
make. We passed through darkened towns and alien landscapes, keeping
track of the number of places left to go through. We found a
convenience store that had six foot tall beef jerky and Camel Light
Wides. Since Mark smokes Camel Lights (he had managed to quit but all
of the stress of the past year has gotten him right back into it), and
since he had never heard of the wide version, I figured he'd like to
compare the two, so I bought him a pack. I never buy cigarettes for
anyone because I can't stand them and I think they're death sticks but
in this case I knew they'd be therapeutic. As we stood out there in
the single digits - him with his Wides, me with my iced tea - he said
he could definitely feel more smoke per inch. And, for some reason, I
was glad to hear it.
Minersville was our final destination but we had one more town to pass
through - Frackville. Yeah, no shit. It was the final dose of that
magical karma we needed. As we looked down the streets of this tiny
town, we tried to find a sign that maybe we could take a picture of,
since nobody would ever believe us. We pulled up to a convenience
store as two cops were going in. And that's when we realized what we
had been sent there to do.
Bernie S. went in to talk to the cops and when he came out, he had
convinced them to pose with Mark in front of their squad car. (It
didn't really take much convincing - they were amazed that anyone
would care.) So, if the pictures come out, you can expect to see a
shot of Phiber Optik being "arrested" by the Frackville police, all
with big smiles on their faces. Frackville, incidentally, has a
population of about 5,000 which I'm told is about the distribution of
Phrack Magazine. Kinda cosmic.
So now there was nothing left to do. We couldn't even get lost - the
prison was straight ahead of us. Our long journey was about to come to
a close. But it had been incredible from the start; there was no
reason to believe the magic would end here. The prison people would be
friendly, maybe we'd chat with them for a while. They'd make hot
chocolate. All right, maybe not. But everybody would part on good
terms. We'd all give Mark a hug. Our sadness would be countered by
hope.
The compound was huge and brightly lit. We drove through it for miles
before reaching the administration building. We assumed this was where
Mark should check in so we parked the cars there and took a couple of
final videos from our camcorder. Mark was nervous but he was still
Mark. "I think the message is 'come here in the summer,'" he said to
the camera as we shivered uncontrollably in the biting freeze.
As we got to the door of the administration building, we found it to
be locked. We started looking for side doors or any other way to get
in. "There's not a record of people breaking *into* prison," Bernie
wondered out loud. It was still more craziness. Could they actually be
closed?
I drove down the road to another building and a dead end. Bernie
called the prison from his cellular phone. He told them he was in
front of the administration building and he wanted to check somebody
in. They were very confused and said there was no way he could be
there. He insisted he was and told them he was in his car. "You have
a *car* phone?" they asked in amazement. When the dust settled, they
said to come down to the building at the end of the road where I was
already parked. We waited around for a couple of minutes until we saw
some movement inside. Then we all got out and started the final steps
of our trip.
I was the first one to get to the door. A middle-aged bespectacled guy
was there. I said hi to him but he said nothing and fixed his gaze on
the five other people behind me.
"All right, who's from the immediate family?"
"None of us are immediate family. We're just--"
"Who's the individual reporting in?"
"I'm the individual reporting in," Mark said quietly.
"The only one I need is just him."
The guard asked Mark if he had anything on him worth more than $100.
Mark said he didn't. The guard turned to us.
"All right, gentlemen. He's ours. Y'all can depart."
They pulled him inside and he was gone. No time for goodbyes from any
of us - it happened that fast. It wasn't supposed to have been like
this; there was so much to convey in those final moments. Mark, we're
with you... Hang in there... We'll come and visit.... Just a fucking
goodbye for God's sake.
It caught us all totally off guard. They were treating him like a
maximum security inmate. And they treated us like we were nothing,
like we hadn't been through this whole thing together, like we hadn't
just embarked on this crazy adventure for the last few days. The
karma was gone.
>From behind the door, a hooded figure appeared holding handcuffs. He
looked through the glass at us as we were turning to leave. Suddenly,
he opened the outer door and pointed to our camera. "You can't be
videotaping the prison here," he said. "All right," I replied, being
the closest one to him and the last to start back to the cars. As I
turned away, he came forward and said, "We gotta have that film." "But
we didn't take any pictures of the prison!" I objected. "We gotta take
it anyway," he insisted.
We all knew what to do. Giving up the tape would mean losing all
recordings of Mark's last days of freedom. The meeting in
Philadelphia, slipping down the icy streets, hanging out in Bernie's
house, Frackville.... No way. No fucking way.
Roman, who had been our cameraman throughout, carefully passed off the
camera to Bernie, who quickly got to the front of the group. I stayed
behind to continue insisting that we hadn't filmed any part of their
precious prison. I didn't even get into the fact that there are no
signs up anywhere saying this and that it appeared to me that he was
imposing this rule just to be a prick. Not that I would have, since
Mark was somewhere inside that building and anything we did could have
repercussions for him. Fortunately, the hooded guard appeared to
conclude that even if he was able to grab our camera, he'd probably
never find the tape. And he never would have.
The hooded guard stepped back inside and we went on our way. If it had
been dark and cold before, now it was especially so. And we all felt
the emptiness that had replaced Mark, who had been an active part of
our conversations only a couple of minutes earlier. We fully expected
to be stopped or chased at any moment for the "trouble" we had caused.
It was a long ride out of the compound.
We headed for the nearest major town: Pottsville. There, we went to
the only 24 hour anything in miles, a breakfast/burger joint called
Coney Island of all things. We just kind of sat there for awhile, not
really knowing what to say and feeling like real solid shit. Roman
took out the camcorder and started looking through the view screen.
"We got it," he said. "We got it all."
Looking at the tape, the things that really hit me hard are the happy
things. Seeing the cops of Frackville posing and laughing with Mark,
only a few minutes before that ugly episode, puts a feeling of lead in
my stomach. I'm just glad we gave him a hell of a sendoff; memories of
it will give him strength to get through this.
What sticks with me the most is the way Mark never changed, right up
to the end. He kept his incredible sense of humor, his caustic wit,
his curiosity and sense of adventure. And he never stopped being a
hacker in the true sense. What would a year of this environment do to
such a person?
Our long ride back to New York was pretty quiet for the most part.
Occasionally we'd talk about what happened and then we'd be alone with
our thoughts. My thoughts are disturbing. I know what I saw was wrong.
I know one day we'll realize this was a horrible thing to do to
somebody in the prime of life. I don't doubt any of that. What I
worry about is what the cost will be. What will happen to these
bright, enthusiastic, and courageous people I've come to know and
love? How many of us will give up and become embittered shells of the
full individuals we started out as? Already, I've caught myself
muttering aloud several times, something new for me.
Mark was not the only one, not by far. But he was a symbol - even the
judge told him that at the sentencing. And a message was sent, as our
system of justice is so fond of doing. But this time another message
was sent - this one from Mark, his friends, and the scores of other
hackers who spoke up. Everybody knew this wasn't right. All through
this emotional sinkhole, our tears come from sadness and from anger.
And, to quote the Clash, "Anger can be power." Now we just have to
learn to use it.
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 9 Dec 1993 10:58:52 -0800
From: [email protected](Fen Labalme)
Subject: File 2--Federal Prison Regs on Computer Classes/Books
((MODERATORS' NOTE: Fen Labalme heard a rumor that "computer books"
could not be sent to federal prisoners. So, he tracked down the
information. Here's what he found)).
Well, after quite a few calls and re-directions, I finally got through
to one Tom Metzker at the federal bureau of prisons public affairs
office (202/307-3198). He was quite helpful, if a little "tentative"
as we talked.
He told me of a new (June 1993) prison policy that states that "no
computer training" will be done in federal prisons. This includes
(but is not limited to!) "programming techniques, computer languages,
and computer repairs". He went on to say that programming includes
"macros; for example, no DBase commands may be taught".
Tom informed me that many prisons now have computers for use by the
inmates, but that "people who exhibit a propensity towards computers
may be denied access to them".
I asked "what is the harm of learning a trade, such a C programming,
that could be useful when the prisoner leaves?" He said that the rule
was worded (as, he allowed, most such rules were) in a vague way that
ultimately left it up to the warden as to what would or would not be
allowable, and that special exceptions could be made by the warden in
any case.
Anyway, this all sounds pretty unfair to me. I could understand,
perhaps, if a person's crime was committed on computers that part of
the punishment may be denial of access to a computer. But my friend
was growing pot (a terrible crime -- aren't you glad that his
punishment is greater, thanks to those wonderful mandatory minimum
sentences, than if he had committed rape?) and now wants to learn
about computers as a legitimate way to make money in today's
information-centric world.
I think the prison system is failing us, the American society, if we
don't allow inmates to learn valuable, socially beneficial skills
while incarcerated. What can be done?
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 11 Jan 1993 14:21:18 EST
From: CuD Moderators <[email protected]>
Subject: File 3--How to Contact Phiber Optik
Emmanuel Goldstein's sensitive description of Phiber Optik's last day
of freedom underscores the need to rethink contemporary prison
philosophy: The punitive ethos emphasizing the "lock-'em-up" agenda
has failed. One of its nasty consequences includes incarcerating
those for whom prison time serves little purpose, costs the taxpayers
unnecessary money, and has no significant impact on crime rates.
Phiber will likely spend less than 10 months in prison, much less if
placed in an alternative program such as community corrections.
However, prison time--especially short time--is unpleasant. The daily
monotony, boredom, restrictions on freedom, and deprivation of even
the most common things that most of us take for granted, erode one's
psyche.
Schuylkill (pronounced "school-kill") FCI is in Minersville, PA in a
mountainous, rural-agricultural area. The central prison is fairly
large, about 1,000. There is also a Level One (minimum security)
satellite camp of about 290 residents where Mark will do his time.
According to a prison spokesperson, Mark will live in a two-person
cubicle. The prisoners in the camp were categorized as "non-violent,
first-term offenders," and instances of violence, assaults, and
attacks were described as "extremely rare." The spokesperson said that
all camp prisoners were assigned a prison job.
Those wishing to correspond with Mark or to send him packages should
note the following:
1) He may, in general, receive PAPERBACK BOOKS, soft-cover magazines,
newspapers, and conventional letters.
2) HARDCOVER BOOKS must be sent DIRECTLY from the publisher.
3) He MAY NOT receive in the mail clothes, food, money, stamps, or
anything else. No exceptions.
4) There are no explicit restrictions on the types of books or
periodicals he may receive. These are done on a case-by-case basis.
With the exception of legal correspondence, all incoming mail is
subject to screening by prison staff.
The prison spokesperson indicated that there is no set limit on the
number of books that Mark may receive, but emphasized that people
should use common sense. A prisoner's personal area, he said, is
rather small. Sending more than one or two books at a time could
quickly become a storage problem.
Emmanuel Goldstein of 2600 Magazine will be coordinating Mark's needs.
Those who wish to send books should contact Emmanuel at
[email protected] and see what kinds of books or papers should be
sent.
Mark's address:
Mark Abene (32109-054)
Schuylkill FCI
Minersville, PA 17954
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 07 Jan 94 18:21:29 EST
From: EFF <[email protected]>
Subject: File 4--EFF Helps Eliminate Outrageous Sentences for Computer Crimes
Source: EFFector Online Volume 7 No. 1 01/07/1994
Comments opposing the United States Sentencing Commission's proposed
guideline for the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act submitted by EFF, SEA
(the Society for Electronic Access), CPSR and others have been taken
to heart. The U.S.S.C. recently announced a *new* proposal for
Computer Fraud and Abuse sentencings. Instead of the single guideline
for all computer crimes proposed by the Department of Justice last
year, the new guideline takes into account the intention of the
defendant by directing the sentencing court to the most appropriate
existing guideline.
For example, under the old proposed guideline, a first time offender
who accessed a computer without authority, copied a non-protected
file, and posted that file to a BBS would get 10 to 16 months in
prison with no parole -- the judge would have been directed to the
Fraud guideline and would have had no discretion to craft another
sentence. Under the new guideline, if that intrusion was not done for
pecuniary or malicious purposes, the crime will be treated as a
misdemeanor, and the sentencing range would be 0 to 6 months. Real
wire fraud done with the intent to reap financial gain or to cause
harm to the system would result in the minimum 10 to 16 month
sentence.
EFF is proud to have played a role in encouraging the Sentencing
Commission to craft the new guideline. New communications
technologies, in their earliest infancy, are becoming the subject of
precedent-setting litigation. Overly strict sentences imposed for
computer-related fraud and abuse may have the effect of chilling these
technologies even as they develop. Until there are more cases on
which to base a guideline, individual sentencing decisions are best
left to the discretion of the sentencing judge, who presumably is most
familiar with the facts unique to each case. Legal precedents,
particularly the application of a sentencing guideline to violations
of the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, can radically affect the course
of computer technology's future, and with it the fate of an important
tool for the exchange of ideas in a democratic society.
The Sentencing Commission is asking for comments by March 18, 1994.
It's important that we all tell the U.S.S.C. that we're happy with the
new proposed guideline for the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. In the
very near future, EFF will be setting up an electronic mailbox to
receive electronic comments. In the meantime, written comments can be
sent to:
United States Sentencing Commission
One Columbus Circle, N.E.
Suite 2-500, South Lobby
Washington, DC 20002-8002
Attention: Public Information
A copy of the proposed guidelines is located at 58 Fed. Reg. 67522 or on
ftp.eff.org as pub/EFF/Issues/Legal/sentencing.amendment
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 10 Jan 94 11:31:11 -0800
From: [email protected](Sven Heinicke)
Subject: File 5--Brendan Kehoe, the accident and me ((The Passenger))
Hello, I just caught up with all my CuD's after being away for a bit.
In case your wondering who I am, well, I am the person who was riding
in the car with Brendan Kehoe when the accident happened. In the past
I have always hopped that I would be able to contribute something to
CuD and was never in the right place to do so, I was in the correct
place this time and I wish I was not. Here is what happened as I
remember it though I am leaving out some details, I'm not sure what
his family would want to get out. Put it in Cud if you wish, even if
you don't put it in, it still felt good to write it. I'm not sure
what the From line to this message will say it is from (as my
computers where half configured before the accident and are still half
configured) but mail to me should go to [email protected].
Brendan Kehoe flew into Philadelphia on the 30th, as far as I know, it
was strictly a social calling as he went to school at Widener
University just outside of Philadelphia (Where I met him). I had
taken the train up from my job in D.C. on the same day to visit my
parents, my girlfriend, and I also knew the Brendan would be in town.
He had living accommodations with a friend but for some reason that
fell through, he called up my parents and asked if he could crash
there, my parents said fine. He arrived late in the night and we
talked for a few hours and want to bed. The next day we both realized
that we had nothing to do for New Years Eve, I was not going to see my
girlfriend until New Years day and he had no plans with other people
that day too. So we choose to rent a movie. We never made it to the
movie rental store. We would of probably rented a musical anyway :-).
It all happened about one mile away from my parents house. We where
talking in the car and I don't remember the talking ever stopping.
Things faded in on a broken windshield against the house, the front
end of the car was about half a meter into the house. I unbuckled my
seatbelt and got out of the car, after a few moments of disbelief I
figured out what happened. There was a lady there with a portable
phone whom told me she had already called the police. I asked her how
long I've had been out, she said about 10 minutes. She asked if I
knew somebody to call, I gave her my parents phone number and want
back in the car to check on Brendan. There was blood coming out of
his ears; as I moved my hand up to wipe one of his ears I noticed that
there was blood on my hand. Following where the blood was coming
from I found a large hole above my left eye. I tried to talk to
Brendan but got no reply. I started feeling dizzy, got out of the car
and sat down on the snow. The flashing lights started arriving at
that time and I started seeing double. My father showed up as the
Newtown Ambulance Squad arrived. They put me on the board and took me
to a local hospital, St. Mary's.
In the Ambulance I could hear the radio, they had called a helicopter
to take Brendan to the UPenn hospital. I got a broken collar bone,
got a good size hole in my head (though my skull is fine), parts of my
scalp are numb and I got this bothering pain in my side. Though my
typing is a little slower and I get dizzy from time to time (I have
talked to my doctor about that) I'm back at work. Brendan was/is
worse, though he is making a recovery faster then the doctors thought
he would. I saw him last Saturday, Jan 8th, he was recognizing
people, able to hold some conversations, and is very restless. Guess
his Irish blood does not want to keep still.
The local weekly paper _The Advance of Bucks County_ said that he ran
a stop sign. Somebody in a four wheel drive then hit Brendans rented
car on the side. It happened around noon and I hear the person in the
other car is no worse off then me. My father waited at the accident
until Brendan was out of the car and the helicopter was away. To get
him out of the car they had to remove the the roof. Across from the
street from where the car was there is a corn field which, due to the
time of year, was barren. So the helicopter was able to land in this
corn field, close to the accident. Father told me that he would of
not been surprised to hear that he died before he made it to the
hospital.
Some final notes, we where both wearing seatbelts (like that helped a
lot) and nobody involved was drinking.
Sven Heinicke
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 11 Jan 94 07:17:05 PST
From: [email protected]
Subject: File 6--Current News (11 Jan '94) of Brendan Kehoe's Recovery
((MODERATORS' NOTE: Brendan Kehoe, author of ZEN AND THE ART OF THE
INTERNET, and a Cygnus Support engineer, was critically injured in
an automobile accident in Pennsylvania on Friday, 31 December, 1993.
Doctors expect a full physical recovery, but the extent of the
mental recovery remains uncertain. Brendan's progress suggests a
cautiously optimistic prognosis. The follow excerpts are taken from
the "brendan news" hotline ([email protected]). They were
written by Jeff Osier, Brendan's housemate and co-worker.))
++++++++++++++
Brendan may not need reconstructive surgery on his face at all, as the
bones were broken but not really moved from where they're supposed to
be, and they kind of set themselves while he was comatose. The
swelling in his head has gone down tremendously, and he does look much
better than he did before. The doctor expects a full physical
recovery. Brendan will need a long time in therapy before he's fully
recovered mentally, and may never be the same old Brendan, but things
are looking brighter every day.
Before I forget, Brendan's mom sends an Irish blessing to all of you,
and thanks you for your concern and good wishes. The same thanks come
from me.
+++++++++++++++++++
We're going to try to get Brendan into a rehab center sometime toward
the end of this week. We're still deciding on a geographical location
(probably Boston, possibly Philly; Portland, Maine, would be great,
though we don't know the level of care he would get there) and need to
discuss with the insurance folks (who have been fabulous, by the way)
a mode of transportation. Lotsa details. Still dealing with other
insurances, rental car companies, the police (who have also been very
helpful and patient), etc. etc. etc...
Brendan is showing remarkable if not incredible progress. We can only
hope upon hope that this is a sign that his intellectual capacity will
bounce back as strong as it always was. There's a warning, though.
Brendan won't be the "old Brendan" again. A major head trauma affects
different people in different ways, but it is always a major
affectation. Of course, how could it not be?
The CuD folks are collating email messages for Brendan: instructions are:
We urge readers to send him a card. We will be collecting the notes
that come in wishing him well via e-mail, and send them to him in
about two weeks. So, if you want to send him an E-note, send it to us
([email protected]) with the subject header: TO BRENDAN
NOTE: As of 1/7/94, all mail to brendan-news (besides getting an
auto-reply) will be forwarded to [email protected], to be
included in the e-mail get-well wishes to be printed and given to
Brendan.
A fund to help with the expected medical expenses has been
established. Donations can be sent to:
Brendan's Friends
c/o Cygnus Support
One Kendall Square
Cambridge, MA 02139
Many, many thanks in advance. All cards and correspondence can be
forwarded to this address as well. It'll be best not to send anything
to the hospital, since Brendan will be moving soon, nor to the hotel,
since the family will be moving with him.
Again, questions can come to [email protected]; no promises on a
turnaround time for answers, though. :)
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 5 Jan 1994 09:35:56 -0800
From: "James I. Davis" <[email protected]>
Subject: File 7--Technology & Employment Conf, 1/21-22, Cambridge, MA
******************************************************************
WHERE HAVE THE JOBS GONE? WHERE WILL THEY BE?
AN MIT CONFERENCE ON TECHNOLOGY AND EMPLOYMENT
Sponsored by the Technology and Culture Seminar of the MIT
Community Fellows Program
Friday, January 21 and Saturday, January 22
9:00 am - 5:00 pm
Building 6, MIT, Cambridge, MA
New England is a world center of the current technological
transformation, in which computers, electronics and genetics are
opening new modes of production and communication. In the midst of
this technological revolution, tens of thousands of people have
been laid off from high tech industries. These newly
unemployed include both highly-trained workers and new entrants
into the workforce. This conference will examine the factors
underlying this disturbing trend, and identify directions needed
to insure that increases in productivity raise the standard of
living of all members of society.
------------------------------------------------------------------
PLENARY SESSIONS:
THE IMPACT OF THE HIGH TECHNOLOGY REVOLUTION ON PRODUCTIVITY
Friday, 9:00 am
Ken Reeves, Mayor, City of Cambridge
Prof. Jon King, MIT
Prof. Tom Kochan, MIT Sloan School
Prof. Helen Shapiro, Harvard Business School
David Arian, President, International Longshoremen and
Warehouseman's Union
THE IMPACT OF THE HIGH TECHNOLOGY REVOLUTION ON JOBS
Friday, 4:00 pm
Juliet Schor, Director, Women's Studies Program, Harvard
Richard Barnet, Institute of Policy Studies
General Baker, National Organizing Committee of the Unemployed,
Detroit
HOW TO INSURE THAT THE NEW TECHNOLOGY RAISES THE GENERAL STANDARD
OF LIVING
Saturday, 9:00 am
Prof. Sarah Kuhn, Policy and Planning, UMASS-Lowell
Prof. Abdul Alkalimat, African-American Studies, Northeastern
University
Prof. Noam Chomsky, MIT
David Feickert, European Trade Union Conference
WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE: JOB CREATION
Saturday, 1:30 pm
Prof. Mel King, Director, Community Fellows Program, MIT
Prof. Elaine Bernard, Director, Trade Union Program, Harvard
John LaRose, Oilfield Workers' Union, Trinidad
------------------------------------------------------------------
WORKSHOPS
FRIDAY 11:00 AM
Changing Production technologies
The Engineer's Role
The Impact of Information on Industrial Production
Cleaner and Safer Production Technologies
Shop Floor Initiatives
The Internationalization of Production: NAFTA
Moving Plants Abroad
Corporate Strategies
NAFTA and the Trade Unions
The European Situation
The Telecommunications Revolution
The National Information Infrastructure
Insuring Public Access
Employment Impacts
The Biotechnology Industry
Projected Growth
Impact on Pharmaceuticals
Unfulfilled Promises
FRIDAY 2:00 PM
Entering the High Tech Job Market
The High-Tech Job Market
A Students View
High Tech Skills for the Disenfranchised
The Electronic Office
The Automated Office
Undervalued Technical Work
Electronic Surveillance
The Changing Reality of Computer Industry Jobs
Part-time Work
Closing Doors to Minority Youth
Coping with Layoffs
High Tech Peace Corps?
Converting from Military to Civilian Research and Development
Civilian R&D in the Post Cold War Period
Prospects at Lincoln Lab
Physics After the Code War
Campus-Based Efforts
Sociobiological Justifications of Social Inequality
Brain and Behavior
Exploding the Gene Myth
The Myth of the Underclass
Medicalization of Social Problems
SATURDAY 11:00 AM
The Impact of Unemployment on Education
The Struggle for Public Education
The New Technology and New Illiteracy: Black Community's
Survival Crisis
Education for Unemployment
Alternatives to Plant Closings
The National Pattern of Layoffs
The Employee Buy-out of Market Forge
State Intervention
Restructuring Labor/Management Relations?
Converting from Military to Civilian Production
Historical Precedents
The Machinists Role
Federal Financing
Conversion Efforts in Massachusetts
Struggles in the Shadow of the High Tech Industry
Building a Youth Center in the High Tech Shadow
Child Care in the High Tech Shadow
The Carpenter's Union Experience
The Politics of Agriculture and Food Production
The Hybrid Corn Experience
Mechanization of Agriculture
Regulation of Genetically Engineered Foods
Agribusiness and Ecology
To reserve program documents and register, send $5 to Patricia
Weinmann, 312 Memorial Drive, Cambridge, MA 02139. Make checks
payable to "The Technology and Culture Seminar."
For more information, contact Patricia Weinmann, (617) 253-0108,
or email [email protected].
PLEASE RE-POST!
******************************************************************
------------------------------
End of Computer Underground Digest #6.05
************************************
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