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Rocky Mountain News

keith@rockin.com (Kit Cason) — Wed, 06 Jan 2016 23:48:49 GMT

"Money Monday" March 27, 1995

Getting On Board

Couple discovered life as business owners with their new electronic bulletin board service

by Stanley Holmes
Rocky Mountain News Staff Writer

DENVER, CO. - Owning a modem has changed the lives of Keith and Kit Cason. The Denver residents no longer have to worry about being robbed at gunpoint in their taxicabs, which happened to Keith Cason two years ago in the parking lot of Mile High Stadium.
"That was the turning point in my life that said it was time to quit being a blue-collar worker and start looking for a new opportuni ty," said Cason, 40.

"I'm an entrepreneur. I was working the cab because I didn't have a good idea." The idea the Casons discovered is one that individuals, couples and companies across the country are discovering: operating their own bulletin board service , or BBS.

The couple now operates PIC-9999, an electronic bulletin board service for the Denver metro area.

For those with a modem, a local call access es event calendars, a message board and advertisements that range from automotive repair shops to a specialized driver network called TaxiNet.

BBS competition growing

Jack Rickard, editor of Littleton-based Boardwatch Magazine , estimates there are about 500 BBS's in Colorado, up from 100 in 1987, when he started the magazine as a newsletter.

He estimates 65,000 bulletin board services are scattered across the country catering to some 18 million people.

About a thousand people nationwide make their living from running bulletin boards, Rickard said.

"It's ideal for couples," he said. "It takes relatively little capital to get off the ground It's shaping up to be the home business of the "'90s."

Even so, the large number of bulletin boards, means enormous competition. It would be difficult to put together a BBS that could draw a lot of people, he said.

Despite that, the top national bulletin board operators rake in between $4 million to $5 million in revenues annually, he said.

Bulletin boards mostly are dedicated to hobbies, interests and just about every topic imaginable. In Colorado, dialers can call up boards that cover local politics, genealogy, gay issues, taxes and career information, to mention just a few.

Colorado at forefront

Nationally, folks can get the latest information on the Grateful Dead, paganism, gardening, home improvement, survival-ism, conservative politics and adult entertainment or set up a corporate conferencing meeting.

The majority of BBS's,however, offer thousands of shareware programs, low-cost computer software that people can download and try before purchasing, Rickard said.

Bulletin board services have been around since the late 1970s. They are different than the Internet or the commercial on-line services because they generally are not connected to a vast computer network.

But more and more BBS's are creating local links with other BBS operators.

And some are even offering access to the Internet .

According to Rickard, Colorado has been at the forefront of this segment of the electronic revolution since the 1980s.

"The Denver area was very active for bulletin boards because of its high-tech, highly educated population," he said. "Many people had computers and were technically literate."

And now the bulletin boards are influencing everything from the political process to economic opportunities.

''I think it's going to change the way we do a lot of things," said Rickard.

Roger's Bar, a local political BBS near Colorado Springs , has breathed new life into local politics-much to the aggravation of elected leaders.

The feisty political discussion group has been around since 1980 and was created by BBS entrepreneur, Korean War hero and 21st century gadfly, Dave Hughes.

Colorado Springs now has 140 bulletin boards, of which 100 are linked.

That spells danger for the slick politico who wants to slip something by a somnolent electorate.

Services influencing politics

Just last year, Hughes and his band of techno-activists caught a Colorado Springs city attorney trying to pass a telephone harassment ordinance without any public debate, he said.

The intent of the ordinance was to hold the owner of a telephone criminally responsible for harassing calls made on that line.

The proposed law also affected bulletin board operators, he said.

"One board operator put the full text on the (linked) system, where it immediately spread," Hughes said. "Over the next two months, we vigorously debated that ordinance and rewrote the ordinance on line.

"The electronic democracy spread across the town, and now the ordinance is acceptable to all."

Hughes contends that the effectiveness of the electronic political discussion groups in Colorado Springs forced the city to create its own BBS, called CityLink.

The free bulletin board provides detailed information about new laws, events and the ongoing affairs of local government. Residents can debate the issues and message elected officials.

"The bulletin board gives the public access and a voice," Hughes said. "Americans want to be heard and not talked to by the media or anybody else.

"And when they get heard, even if the vote doesn't go their way, they will abide by the result."

Revenues ahead of projections

But for others, a BBS can be a new economic opportunity. The Casons , enthusiastic about their career change and the potential payoff, borrowed, saved and invested $30,000 in computer hardware, telephone lines and power processors to create their home business.

Kit managed a restaurant while Keith worked 16-hour days for two years to understand computers and electronic communications.

Since PIC 9999 started 11 months ago, the Casons have logged 2,100 callers. The couple makes money selling on-line ads.

While money is not rolling in, revenues are ahead of original projections and they are debt free, they said.

"Our objective was to design a computer that would sit in part of the room, help cover our living costs and make a profit," Cason said. "And we found that the interest is there."

With little advertising, the Casons now are getting calls 24- hours a day.

They no longer moonlight as cabbies or bartenders to make ends meet.

"This is it," said Cason. "We live and breathe this now."

In the background, the clicking of the modem could be heard. Another caller was dialing on.

Said Cason, shrugging off the noise: "In the middle of the night you hear the squeal of the modem, which to us is like the sound of a cash register."

The Wall Street Journal

keith@rockin.com (Kit Cason) — Tue, 05 Jan 2016 21:17:25 GMT

"What's News -" Thursday, May 8, 1980

In The Darkest Dark Of the 'Lilly Pond' Floats Our Reporter

His Sensations Are Strange, But He Finds Relaxation; Can Tank Be a Hot Item?

by Roy J Hanris, Jr.
Staff Reporter of The Wall Street Journal.

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. - It is called a sensory isolation tank, a relaxation tank or a "Lilly pond," after its inventor, John Lilly. But as I face the forbidding-looking black plastic box for the first time, the nickname "coffin" seems most appropriate.

I'm visiting Samadhi Spa, awaiting my $15, one-hour turn in the pitch-dark, dead-quiet confines of the eight-by-four-by-four foot chamber, where, I'm told, my body will feel weightless as it floats like a cork in a shallow 20% saltwater solution. Thus deprived of stimuli, I'm supposed to experience-- not boredom or claustrophobia-- but the ability to "relax more completely than ever before," according to the tank's promoters.

I'm about to discover, to my surprise, that at least on this day, they aren't so very wrong.

As I'm briefed in the waiting room, not unlike a dentist's except for the big demonstration tank, it is explained that samadhi is an ancient Sanskrit word for "a high state of consciousness." Right now I'm at the state of consciousness called panic, wishing I'd been assigned to cover a less threatening story--like a prison riot.

Taunts Brushed Off
Samadhi and other tank maker, Denver-based Float to Relax, Inc., assert that their products will grow hotter than the hot tub as a home-improvement item and could one day become available in street-corner parlors. They brush off taunts that the tanks are narcissistic "me-machines" that will be obsolete when the so-called me generation fades.

"We're out to become the McDonald's of Relaxation," says Keith Cason , Western distributor of Float to Relax. He maintains that "this isn't a fad; there are 20,000 Valiums consumed in Denver every day, and we're stress-management consultants offering a better way." And Robert Tyhurst, 37-year old former financial executive for Exxon and Itel Corp. and now Samadhi's managing partner, envisions his tanks eventually "in every skyscraper," allowing workers "the opportunity for complete privacy."

It is hard to imagine any such success for a device that has been around for 25 years without catching on. (Dr. Lilly, noted now more for his unusual work with dolphins, used early tanks for various mental-research projects.) Only a few more than 1,000 tanks have been sold, mostly to private solitude-seekers in the last couple of years. And the price of $1,195 to $2,750, including air pump, water filter and heating unit, hardly seems likely to cause a flood of buyers.

Lately the two companies have been competing for the health-club market, a first step out of the narrow category of "meditational aid," where most current users seem to place the tanks. Nautilus-plus, a fitness chain in Southern California, has ordered 12 units from Float to Relax, which recently opened the 13th center of its own, in Philadelphia.

Skepticism Voiced

In New York, targeted by Mr. Tyhurst as one of six planned Samadhi regional centers, the only two public Samadhi tanks are at a place called the East-West Center for Holistic Health. (Many orthodox health professionals are likely to be tank skeptics. MIT Prof. Richard Held. who labels Dr. Lilly a "fringe" scientist, says conventional research in the sensory-isolation area was dropped years ago. But Prof. Held, who once did such research, adds that a couple of hours in a tank "shouldn't be a problem" for most people.)

Meanwhile, back in Beverly Hills, an intense young Samadhi assistant, Ramon Repp, senses from my many nervous questions that I'm more interested in talking about sensory isolation than in trying it.

Will somebody be around to help if I have trouble? "No," he says curtly. (I'm relieved, though , to try the demonstration tank door and find it opens at a feather's touch, and there's no latch at all.) How will I know when my hour is up? "You'll hear soft music," Ramon answers. and points me toward my private tank room.

On my way, I reflect how different this experience seems from my several memorable adventures in hot tubs. I'm taking this dip alone. Really alone.

My mind is racing as I take the recommended hot shower and shampoo--to keep the tank water clean--before lying naked in the box, I tell myself that I may be able to turn off the light and the sound in my world for an hour, but I'm sure I'll have a tougher time extinguishing the worries I bring in from the outside.

For one thing, I've been having a spat with my girlfriend. I'm also nervous about another article I'm writing, and I wonder how the saltwater will affect a recent scratch I suffered on the top of my head.

I lift the tank lid and climb into the tepid 93.5-degree water. As I lie down. my scalp ' does sting a bit, but right now I'm more concerned about how things will look when I pull the door closed over my head.

They don't "look'' at all. It is the darkest dark I've ever felt, and it actually seems to lighten when I close my eyes. Breathing is difficult in the stuffy chamber. Also, there's a lot of noise at first; but it's really just my thumping heart and the "narration" I'm getting from my mind, which, after all, is my only companion on this trip. It first recalls the enjoyment I used to get taking baths as a child instead of the showers that now are my morning routine, and then it criticizes itself for the "small" caliber of such thoughts.

But at least, I notice, the stinging is gone. So are the little waves of water against my skin, and those "outside" worries. Now there IS nothing.

Heartbeat Returns

My heartbeat is back. But of course it was never gone; my mind was just on other things. I fret briefly about "freaking out" like some buried Edgar Allan Poe character. Then I remember how easily that door opens, wherever it is.

When, with practice, I get really good at floating still, my mind finds itself almost wishing for the stinging to return or even for my toe to touch the tank wall. Anything. It seems my mind won't let me completely relax.

But as soon as I think that, I begin to feel a strange sensation in my limbs. It is as if there is no difference between my skin and the water, and I begin to fantasize about being part of the water, disappearing into it and no longer being a separate human body. Opening my eyes, I see nothing to dispute the fantasy. My usually argumentative mind now begins to play along with the feeling, and I picture myself lying on a grassy hillside with a warm breeze blowing ever so lightly over me. And now I am the grassy hillside.

Every now and then I have little "mind attacks," and my body starts as if waking from a sound sleep. But I'm awake, and it's easy, I find, to resume my disappearing act.

On the Beach

Now I'm running on the beach in a dense fog, and almost vanishing into it. I run effortlessly, and watch an occasional runner glide toward me and vanish into the same fog. In the cloud, now, there is nothing but mind, and heartbeat, and . . . something else. Something like . . . lilting electronic music.

I guess my time is up, and I guess I can push the door open. In a minute. I feel euphoric, and I sit up slowly, push and step out. I shower and dress, give Ramon my MasterCard and sign the slip. Someone says "thank you" and I leave.

Outside, the sunny, warm afternoon seems somehow quieter. The flowers I pass as I walk to my car are unquestionably a brighter purple than they were before. Driving home, I notice that I don't want to turn on my radio.

The air hits me and I come down a bit, thinking that daydreaming on that grassy hillside would be a cheaper form of relaxation. And for about the same amount I could have had an invigorating massage. But I'm satisfied with my hour in the tank.

I stop and buy a bunch of daisies for my girlfriend. And I buy a rose for myself.