Our previous blog looked at the #140conf video describing the Blacksburg Electronic Village (BEV) of Blacksburg, Virginia, launched in 1993 as a Virginia Tech outreach program. Proclaimed as the world’s first “wired town,” BEV was created with software from Virginia Tech and high bandwidth optical lines from what was then Bell Atlantic—Virginia. (Indeed, in 1996 John Knapp, director of external affairs for Bell Atlantic—Virginia, noted that there was such a positive response to the high bandwidth lines by BEV users that the company began to offer those lines to most customers in its seven-state region.)
On my Facebook wall, Neil Garland, a fellow who I haven’t seen since college (the mid-1970s), commented on my story: “I’ve spent a lot of time in Blacksburg. ‘Wired’ doesn’t even begin to describe that place. . .”
Other readers, however, soon reminded us that there are other, “honorable mentions” in the world of electronic villages (aside from the obvious one, Palo Alto, California, in Silicon Valley); some very early—and perhaps unlikely— stops on what would become the world’s Information Highway.
TELLURIDE, COLORADO. In 1993, this sparsely populated (1,500 year-round residents) resort town, 275 miles southwest of Denver, embraced on all sides by the 13,000-foot San Juan Mountains and 130 miles from the nearest interstate highway, became the first rural community in the world to offer Internet access via a local phone call. Over 1,200 people signed up for this “InfoZone” program, founded by the Telluride Institute, a research, education and cultural organization that calls itself “The Think-And-Do-Tank of the Rocky Mountain West.”
The InfoZone Program’s two principal components were 1) the creation and operation of a vital, enhanced Community Information Infrastructure (CII), and 2) to serve as a research and development test-bed for systems and services, and for the social and economic impacts and implications of an information society and thus, by example, it hoped to promote an “ecology of the information society.”
Many experts thought Tulluride to be the perfect place for a project such as InfoZone, since over 70 percent of the town’s population had college degrees at the time, and so many scientific conferences and art and music festivals are held there that on one quiet weekend there was held a “Nothing Festival.”
Then-Governor Roy Romer was promoting high-tech development on Colorado’s Front Range corridor when the Telluride Institute’s Richard Lowenberg, a former artist and planner who worked in California’s Silicon Valley, persuaded Romer and others to consider Colorado’s Western Slope areas for high tech development too. New York networking expert Allen Rowath then became involved and helped set up the InfoZone after being lured to Telluride as a result of a conversation with Mary-Chapin Carpenter following a folk music concert.
A $20,000 Colorado state grant paid for installation of a Telluride node on the Internet during the summer of 1993. The state then leased a data line so that Telluride residents could bypass typical commercial access systems requiring long-distance calls that could cost $15 an hour or more. Apple Computers Inc. donated the computers that were stationed around the town.
Designed in part to improve education and health care services, InfoZone started out providing a special electronic bulletin board system for certain American Indian communities and environmental groups. InfoZone provided free email, local and national news, conferences, and other community information. Users could log on at Apple terminals in the library, a bank, a coffee shop (the Steaming Bean Café), the regional hospital and the state agricultural center. The system allowed for participation and exchange with text postings, audio, and images. Lowenstein commented that multidimensional drawings of projects, such as a proposed expansion of expansion of Telluride ski area, could be delivered to residents’ homes via InfoZone.
At the same time, another member of the InfoZone board, Greg Law, created an audio-text service enabling callers to obtain information on town affairs, such as the upcoming town council agenda, which was faxed free of charge to any resident simply by phoning into an automated answering service.
In 1995, SIGGRAPH (Special Interest Group on GRAPHics and Interactive Techniques) the annual conference on computer graphics convened by the ACM SIGGRAPH organization, highlighted Telluride and InfoZone by creating a special electronic public forum, with various special-interest project folders on education, the arts, tele-community planning, and live chats (“Tellu-Tell Me”). Topics of particular interest included community health, environmental issues, Native American writers, cultural master planning, and salons. Dedicated networked computers at SIGGRAPH 95 allowed visitors to connect with users throughout the Telluride Region, at home, and via the many public access tele-computing sites around town.
Ironically, the little former mining town of Telluride had had been the Silicon Valley of the 1890s. In 1891, a Telluride entrepreneur, Lucien Lucius Nunn (1853–1925) was engaged in gold mining, journalism and banking in the town. To improve his mining operations at the Gold King Mine 3.5 miles away, Nunn financed the world’s first commercial alternating current power plant, the Ames Hydroelectric Generating Plant, built by Nikola Tesla and George Westinghouse. This groundbreaking development began the “War of Currents” between the Westinghouse Electric Corporation (promoting AC) and the General Electric Company (promoting DC) headed by Thomas Edison and J.P. Morgan.
A few people in 1993 speculated that projects such as InfoZone were a scheme for subsidizing people called “Lone Eagles,” the first generation of wealthy telecommuters who transplanted their jobs to America’s resorts, countryside and small communities. (In 1994, Denver’s Center for the New West estimated that there were about 10 million of these Lone Eagles scattered about the countryside. I even recall that, back in the 1990s, Rupert Murdoch was spending about six months of the year in Aspen, Colorado.)
Today, “teleworking” is common. As for Telluride’s InfoZone, it’s use is restricted to private communications for staff and consultants of the Telluride Institute.
GLASGOW, KENTUCKY. In 1994 this town of 14,062 people situated in Barren County, KY (halfway between Louisville and Nashville near Mammoth Cave National Park), became fully “networkized” by the local electric utility, the Glasgow Electric Plant Board. They used coaxial cabling that supplied not only cable TV (54 channels) and telephone, but also email, high-speed Internet access (50 times the existing dialup speed of 28Kbps) and a local network for homes and businesses called HomeLAN, which eventually would allow residents to program household appliances to run at the times of day when electric rates were lowest. Indeed, the whole project actually began in 1985, when the Glasgow Electric Plant Board investigated the idea of creating a wired network to connect to all of the town’s electric meters, a concept too advanced for that time, but commonplace today. The board decided, what the heck, let’s wire the town anyway for cable TV and that way the cabling would already exist to carry Internet traffic to-and-from residents when and if that became popular.
In 1989 cable service arrived via Scripps-Howard, then Comcast bought the network, eventually selling its 3,000 remaining customers to Glasgow in 2001. In the early 1990s Internet experts from MCI approached the town when they heard about the town’s cable TV wiring, offering Internet technology and expertise.
Although originally a coaxial network, Glasgow later upgraded to a hybrid fiber-to-the-neighborhood network, with fiber-optic lines going to groups of 200 homes serviced by coaxial cable.
At the time of its creation in 1994, sponsors and enthusiasts of HomeLAN and high bandwidth fiber optic Internet connections felt that things live videoconferencing would become commonplace, workers would telecommute, students would eventually take many classes from home, and high-tech businesses would be attracted to a town that placed signs on the roads reading “www.glasgow-ky.com.”
Unlike Blacksburg, Virginia, however, the impact of high-speed communications and networking on Glasgow wasn’t quite as great. For Glasgow, “high tech” business continued to be its production of auto parts. Farming (tobacco, dairy and cattle) remained the principal aspects of the local economy, despite the fact that it had a five-year head start on other, wealthier communities.
In an interview in August 2000, Andy Carvin (@acarvin), then running an email discussion group from Washington, D.C. on equalizing net access, told AP that “Just because you put technology in place doesn’t mean people have the skills to use it successfully. If you lack skills and content, access doesn’t add up to much.” Billy Ray, who had run Glasgow’s Internet service from its beginnings, was also quoted as saying, “Some of them [towns looking to follow Glasgow’s lead] think… just by dragging a reel of fiber-optic cable to town, the high-tech companies will come. This is only an element of a well-planned, well-operated community, It’s not going to heal all your ills.” Still, some companies in town had websites and were selling and shipping products worldwide.
Even as late as 2000 Glasgow was doing pioneering work. The town used its network to control sets of traffic lights along U.S. 31E, and its agencies shared computerized maps online to coordinate utility repairs and plot school bus routes. And that summer the town was finally experimenting with monitoring 7,000 electric meters and automatically shutting off water heaters during periods of peak demand. This proved to be an excellent move: By 2003, Glasgow residents were paying just $19 a month for 70 cable channels and super-fast Internet access for an additional $25—half the national average at that time—because the city-owned electric utility provided both cable TV and Internet access over the wires that monitored power usage, and (best of all) the utility was simply recovering its costs, not trying to actually profit from its service.
In fact, Billy Ray, still utility superintendent in 2003, estimated that since Glasgow began offering cable in 1989, $32 million of residents’ money stayed in the town, as opposed to being funneled into the pockets of giant telecom companies, most of which would not have been able to offer the advanced services available to the wired community of Glasgow anyway. (Not surprisingly, the mammoth phone and cable companies panicked over the 500+ utilities that were deploying cut-rate broadband and other services around the U.S., and began to fight to block any public gas, water and electric utilities from providing telecom services.)
TAOS, NEW MEXICO. Taos has long been known as a tourism and arts mecca, but at one time it had a rickety phone system and its populace dwelt on the other side of the “digital divide.” Fortunately, two financial grants aided the La Plaza Telecommunity Foundation (www.laplaza.org), a non-profit organization formed in 1994 partly to help compensate for the lack of ISPs in Taos County (pop. 27,000) by furnishing low-cost and free public access to everyone in the Taos, New Mexico, region. By 1994 nearly 25 percent of the area’s 10,000 residents signed up. For those folk who didn’t own computers, 15 computers were available for use 12 hours a day at the La Plaza Telecommunity Center. Residents used the program for sending and receiving email, research and home schooling. A website was built to act as a cybercenter for the town.
Free public Internet access was available at three locations, one of them being the La Plaza office building, equipped with a T-1 line from Albuquerque; the others were in Questa and Penasco in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The least expensive way to project Internet access out there was to use wireless microwave connections between towers.
In April 1997 the days of free Internet surfing through the La Plaza Telecommunity Foundation came to an end, with home users charged a flat rate of $6 for six hours on online use and 75 cents for each additional hour after that. Users prior to that time were able to stay online up to 15 hours per month at no charge (which would now cost $12.75), though computer use at La Plaza Research Center and at their labs in Penasco and Questa remained free of charge.
Network access was all the more meaningful in Taos because many residents in remote Questa didn’t have telephones and used services such as Dialpad.com to make online calls. Internet access also helped the The Michael McCormick Gallery (still found at www.mccormickgallery.com) generate a third of its business thanks to visitors to the gallery’s website.
“We can sell artwork all over the world. It’s convenient for someone in Saudi Arabia to see the site and send me an email,” McCormick said.
Other towns in the 1990s that dabbled with dedicated Internet connections include Harlan, Iowa, pop. 5,128 and Barbourville, Kentucky, pop. 3,973, where local utilities were responsible for installing high-speed networking. Fort Morgan, Colorado, pop. 20,049 arranged for state grants to purchase new equipment and subsidize high bandwidth service for five years.
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Richard Grigonis (@EditStateofNow) is Editor-in-Chief of Jeff Pulver’s State of NOW / #140conf community website.




