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It’s funny that I remember a time when Cisco Live used to be a privilege, before it became a chore.  I’ve been to every Cisco Live US and every Cisco Live Europe since I started here in 2015.  I enjoy the show primarily because I enjoy meeting with fellow network engineers, and there is still a lot of energy every show.  But I’ve seen all the booths, the flashy keynotes, and the marketing sessions many times over.  I’ve eaten the bad food and stayed in a few bad hotels.

Speaking was one of my favorite activities.  The audiences are intimidating, and as someone who used to have a terrible fear of public speaking, there is always a bit of jitters until my session(s) are over.  But I enjoy communicating technical concepts in a clear and understandable way.  That’s why I got into speaking.  I just wish I was teaching a college course where I grade the students instead of the students grading me.

After I transitioned from being an individual contributor to a manager, I held onto my speaking slots for a while, but the last Cisco Live where I spoke was Las Vegas 2022.  I attended, but didn’t speak, at Cisco Live Amsterdam 2023 and Cisco Live Las Vegas 2023.  It was nice not to have to prepare much, but I missed the “speaker” tab on my badge.  It just wasn’t the same.  Yet this is what happens when you move into leadership.  The sessions at Cisco Live are meant to be technical, and the SGMs who control sessions want technical speakers, not manager-types.  When you lead a team, you also don’t want to take sessions from your staff.

In Vegas, I swore I would not return to Cisco Live without a speaker badge.  If I didn’t get a slot, I would skip CL for the first time since I came back here in 2015.  I applied for two sessions for Europe in Feb 2024, trying to cash in on my “Hall of Fame” status.  The SGMs want relevant topics and good speakers.  I didn’t get any emails and assumed I wasn’t going to Amsterdam.  Have I finally jumped the shark?

Then I got a funny email.  “Do you want your Amsterdam session considered for Las Vegas?”  Huh?  Only speakers get that email.  I checked the Cisco Live Speaker Resource Center, and lo and behold, I saw one DevNet session there.

The session I submitted is called “Time Machine! A 1980’s bulletin board system, revived”.  What??  I submitted this as a total long shot, nearly positive it would be denied.  As detailed in a couple posts on this blog, I ran a bulletin board system in the 1980’s.  I proposed to do a DevNet session on how BBS’s worked and how I had revived my own in an emulator.  And they accepted it!  Ha!  Now I have to come up with the content.  I remember in the abstract where it asks for “business value of this session” and I said something like “There is absolutely no business value to this session.”  I guess the SGMs have a sense of humor.

I guess I’m going to Amsterdam.  I know for a fact one of my three regular readers goes to Cisco Live Europe.  So I look forward to seeing you there.  Meanwhile, I realized at this point in my career I need to submit my sessions in the “IT Leadership” track, so I’m writing some Las Vegas abstracts for that.  Can’t keep an old dog down!

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In my last post, I discussed the BBS and how it worked.  (It would be helpful to review, to understand the terminology.)  In this post, I have resurrected, in part, the BBS I used to run from 1988-1990.  It was called “The Tower”, for no particularly good reason except that it sounded cool to my teenage mind.

Now, bringing this back to life was no simple task, but was aided by some foresight I had 20 years ago.  I had a Mac with a disk drive, and realizing the floppy era was coming to a close, I decided to produce disk images of all the 3.5 inch floppies I had saved from my Apple II days.  Fortunately, my last Apple II, the IIGS, used 3.5″ drives instead of the 5.25″ that were more common on the Apple IIs.  The Macs that had floppy drives all had 3.5″ drives.  Additionally, Apple had included software to on the pre OSX MacOS to read ProDOS (Apple II) disks.  Thus, in the year 2000, I could mount an Apple II floppy from a dozen years prior and make an image out of it.

I did not have a full working version of my GBBS, however, so I had to download a copy.  I also had to do a lot of work to bring it up to Macos (not MacOS, but Macos, Modified ACOS), which was a modified form of the GBBS compiler I used at the time.  All of my source files required Macos and not the stock GBBS software.  Believe me, even though I ran the BBS for a couple years and wrote a lot of the code, remembering how to do any of this after 30 years was non-trivial.

Rather than hook up my old IIGS, which I still have, it made a lot more sense to use an emulator.  (It also enabled me to take screen shots.)  I used an emulator called Sweet16, which is a bit bare bones but does the trick.  In case you’re not familiar with the Apple II series, the early models were primarily text-driven.  They had graphics, of course, but they were not GUI machines.  After the Mac came out, there was a push to incorporate a GUI into the Apple II and the result was the Apple IIGS (Graphics and Sound).  While it had a GUI-driven OS (ProDOS 16 at first, replaced by GS/OS), it was backwards compatible with the old Apple II software.  The GBBS software I ran was classic Apple II, and thus it was a bit of a waste to run it on an Apple IIGS, but, well, that’s what I did.

In this screen shot (Figure 1), you can see the Apple IIGS finder from which I’m launching the BBS software, the only GUI shot you’ll see in the article:

Figure 1: The Apple IIGS ProDOS Finder

The next shot (Figure 2) shows the screen only visible to the sysop, while waiting for a call.  As sysop, I had the option to hit a key and log in myself, but if a user dialed in the system would beep and the user would begin the log in process.  I’m not sure why we’re awaiting call 2 which will be call 1 today, but it looks like a bug I need to hunt down.  The screen helpfully tells me if new users have signed up for the BBS, and whether I have mail.

Figure 2: The landing page while waiting for a call

(If you want to know why I used the silly handle “Mad MAn”, please see the previous article.)

The next screen shows the BBS right after logon.  The inverse text block at the top was a local sysop-only view, showing user information including the user name and phone number, as well as the user’s flags.  These are interesting.  Some BBS software provided access levels for controlling what a user could and could not do.  Instead of sequential access levels, GBBS provided a series of binary flags the sysop could set.  Thus, I could give access to one area but not another, whereas the sequential access levels mean that each access level inherits the privileges of the previous level.  Very clever.  A few other stats are displayed that I won’t go into.  I’ll turn off the sysop bar for the remaining screen shots.

Figure 3: The main level prompt with sysop bar. Be sure to report error #20!

Note the prompt provided to the user in figure 3.  It tells you:

  • That the sysop is available
  • That the user has not paged the sysop
  • The double colons (::) normally would display time left on the system.  Since this was a dial-up system, I needed to limit the time users could spend on the BBS.  But as sysop, I of course had unlimited time.
  • The BBS had different areas and the prompt (like an IOS prompt) tells you where you are (“Main level”)

Next, in figure 4 you can see the main menu options for a user logged into the BBS.  This is the default/stock GBBS menu, as my original is lost.  Despite the limited options, this was like entering a new world in the days of 64K RAM.  You can see that a user could send/read mail, go to a file transfer section, chat (or attempt to chat) with the system operator, or read the public message boards.

Figure 4: The BBS main menu. This is the GBBS default, not the custom menu I built

Next, the user list.  I had 150 users on my BBS, not all of them active.  I blacked out the last names and phone numbers, but you can get a sense of the handles that were used at the time.  In addition to these names, there were a lot of Frodo’s and Gandalf’s floating around.  Also note that most BBSing was local (to avoid long-distance charges.)  Sadly, none of these users has logged on since 1989.  I wish they’d come back.  Oggman, whom I mentioned in my last post, was a user on my board.

Figure 5: My user list

Conclusions

I recently interviewed a recent college grad who asked me how she could be successful at a company like Cisco.  My answer was that you have to understand where we came from in order to understand where we are.  You cannot understand, say, SD-WAN without understanding how we used to build WANs.  Go back to the beginning.  Learn what SneakerNet was.  Understand why we are where we are.  Even before SneakerNet, some of us were figuring out how to get computers to talk to each other over an already existing network–the analog telephone network.  As a side note, I love vintage computing.  It’s a lot of fun using emulators to resurrect the past, and I hope to do some physical restorations some day.  Trying to figure out how to boot up a long-defunct system like this BBS provides a great reminder of how easy we have it now.

It’s inevitable as we get older that we look back on the past with a certain nostalgia.  Nostalgia or not, I do think that computing in the 1980’s was more fun and interesting than it is now.  Personal computers were starting to become common, but were not omnipresent as they are now.  They were quite mysterious boxes.  An error might throw you into a screen that displayed hexadecimal with no apparent meaning.  Each piece of software had its own unique interface, since there were no set standards.  For some, there might be a menu-driven interface.  For others you might use control keys to navigate.  Some programs required text commands.  Even working with devices that had only 64 Kilobytes of memory, there was always a sense of adventure.

I got my start in network engineering in high school.  Computer networks as we understand them today didn’t really exist back then.  (There was a rudimentary Internet in some universities and the Defense Department.)  Still, we found ways to connect computers together and get them to communicate, the most common of which was the Bulletin Board System, or BBS.

The BBS was an individual computer equipped with a modem, into which other computer users could dial.  For those who aren’t familiar with the concept of a modem, this was a device that enabled computer data to be sent over analog telephone lines.    Virtually all BBS’s had a single phone line and modem connecting to a single computer.  (A few could handle multiple modems and callers, but these were rare.)  The host computer ran special BBS software which received connections from anyone who might dial into it.  Once the user dialed in, then he or she could send email, post messages on public message boards, play text-based video games, and do file transfers/downloads.  (Keep in mind, the BBS was text-only, with no graphics, so you were limited in terms of what you could do.)  An individual operator of a BBS was called a System Operator or Sysop (“sis-op”).  The sysop was the master of his or her domain, and occasionally a petty tyrant.  The sysop could decide who was allowed to log into the board, what messages and files could be posted, and whether to boot a rude user.

Because a BBS had a single modem, dialing in was a pain.  That was especially true for popular BBS’s.  You would set your terminal software to dial the BBS phone number, and you would often get a busy signal because someone else was using the service.  Then you might set your software to auto re-dial the BBS until you heard the musical sound of a ring tone followed by modems chirping to each other.

How did you find the phone numbers for BBS’s in the era before Google?  You might get them from friends, but often you would find them posted as lists on other BBS’s.  When we first bought our modem for my Apple II+, we also bought a subscription to Compuserve, a public multi-user dial-in service.  On one of their message boards, I managed to find a list of BBS’s in the 415 area code where I resided.  I dialed into each of them.  Some BBS on the list had shut down and I could hear someone saying “Hello??” through the modem speaker.  Others connected, I set up an account, and, after perusing the board, I would download a list of more BBS numbers and go on to try them.

Each sysop configured the board however seemed best, so the BBS’s tended to have a lot of variation.  The software I used–the most common among Apple II users–was called GBBS.  GBBS had its own proprietary programming language and compiler called ACOS, allowing heavy customization.  I re-wrote almost the entire stock bulletin board system in the years I ran mine.  It also allowed for easy exchange of modules.  I delegated a lot of the running of my board to volunteer co-sysops, and one of them wanted to run a fantasy football league.  He bought the software, I installed it, and we were good to go.  I had friends who ran BBS’s on other platforms that did not have GBBS, and their boards were far less customize-able.

A funny story about that fantasy football sysop.  Back then the software came on floppy disks, and while I insisted on him mailing it to me, he insisted on meeting me in person and handing it over.  I was terrified of meeting this adult and revealing that I was only 14 years old.  I wanted everyone on the board to think I was an adult, not a teenager.  It helped project authority.  He wouldn’t budge, so we agreed to meet at a local sandwich shop.  Imagine my surprise when a 12-year-old walked in carrying the disks!  We had a nice lunch and I at least knew I could be an authority figure for him.  I suspect most of my users were no older than seventeen.

Each user on a BBS had a handle, which was just a screen name.  I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that mine was “Mad MAn”.  I don’t really recall how I thought of the name, but you always wanted to sound cool, and to a 15 year old “madman” sounded cool.  This was in the era before school violence, so it wasn’t particularly threatening.  I spelled it with two words because I didn’t know how to spell “madman”, and this was before every spelling mistake was underlined in red.  The second A was capitalized because I was a bad typist and couldn’t get my finger off the shift key fast enough.  Eventually I just adopted that as a quirk. Because the BBS population consisted largely of nerdy teenage boys, a lot of the handles came from Lord of the Rings and other fantasy and sci-fi works.  I can’t tell you how many Gandalf’s were floating around, but there were a lot.  I had a Strider for a co-sysop.  Other handles, like mine, attempted to sound tough.  I had another co-sysop whose handle was Nemesis.

Since each BBS was an island, if someone sent you an email on BBS1, you couldn’t see it on BBS2.  So, if you were active on five BBS’s, you had to log in to all five and check email separately.  At one point a sysop who went by the handle “Oggman” launched a system called OGG-Net.  (His BBS also had a cool name, “Infinity’s Edge”.)  Oggy’s BBS became a central repository for email, and subscribing boards would dial in at night to exchange emails they had queued up.  This of course meant that it could take an entire day for email to propagate from one BBS to another, but it was better than before.

I’m writing this post in my “NetStalgia” series for a couple reasons.  First, it’s always important to look back in order to know where you are going.  Second, I’ve resurrected my old BBS using an Apple II emulator, and in my next post I’m going to share a few screen shots of what this thing actually looked like.  I hope you’ll enjoy them.