"I think this is one of the noblest benefactions that has been conferred upon a worthy object by any purse during the long stretch of my seventy-one years" wrote Mark Twain. A newspaper account called it "one of the most wonderful boons in the history of mankind." Helen Keller wrote, "I have waited many years for such a magazine." They were referring to the Matilda Ziegler Magazine for the Blind, which made its appearance in March 1907, the first general-interest periodical for any blind person who could read by touch. It was free of charge, too.

Yet, the Ziegler Magazine arose from the most improbable of circumstances. In 1905, the New York Herald published a routine item describing a rich man's legacy that bequeathed large sums to various charities. This announcement caused intense irritation to a Memphis newspaperman who happened to be in New York on business. He was Walter G. Holmes, a shy, rather nervous, middle-aged bachelor who had been business manager of the Memphis, Tennessee, Commercial Appeal. He fired off a letter to the editor, asking the rich to pay more attention to the needs of blind people. His letter was by no means impromptu, for it outlined a project to which he had given deep thought for many years. As printed in the May 31st, 1905, edition, the letter read: "Why is it that while the benevolent rich men are giving so much to charities, the blind, the most helpless of the afflicted, seem to be overlooked?" I have a blind brother, and this has interested me in the blind and caused me to realize their utter helplessness.

The lame and the deaf mutes are still able to use their eyes and thereby support and entertain themselves, but there is little that the blind can do, and they must sit day after day in idleness.

The raised type has given them a great power to entertain themselves and brighten their hours, but these books are so expensive that only a few of the blind can afford them.

For instance, "Ben Hur" in type for the blind costs $10.50. A few cities have libraries for the blind, but very few of the 100,000 blind have access to them. We are able to buy these books for my brother, and knowing the great pleasure they give him my heart sighs for the many who do not have books.

Every State in the Union has its schools for the blind, where they are taught to read, all expenses of board, [and]c., for a few years being paid, but at the age of twenty they must leave these schools, and few can buy the books. Why do some of our wealthy men not establish circulating libraries for the blind?

The government takes books for the blind through the mails free of cost. A few years ago when Mr. Carnegie's library donations were coming in so fast I tried to interest him in the plan. I found that $250,000 would put a good library for the blind in each State capital in the United States.

I am in New York for a few weeks, and if anyone can bring this to the notice of some benevolent rich man or woman I should like to give the benevolent person the details of a plan to which I have given much study. W.G.H.

It is intriguing that in the last paragraph, Holmes mentioned "rich man or woman," for it was a rich woman who was to read this letter and write to W.G.H.: "I saw your communication today, and as I am interested in doing something for the blind along the printing line, I would like to communicate with you."

The letter was signed E.M. Ziegler. Walter Holmes may have recognized the surname, for William Ziegler had been in the news when he sponsored two Arctic expeditions in the race for the North Pole. What probably did not occur to Walter Holmes was that E.M. Ziegler was a woman—in fact the widow of that millionaire industrialist, who had died just the day before Holmes penned his letter to The New York Herald.

Years later, Matilda Ziegler's son, William Ziegler, Jr., described her reaction to that letter: "Mother read the article out loud to me at the breakfast table and for the rest of the day she was most quiet and thoughtful. The next day she sent for Mr. Holmes, who came out to our place in Connecticut to discuss the project." The nine-year-old William Ziegler, Jr., was present for part of the interview with Walter Holmes, and was "impressed with the clarity of Mr. Holmes's plan—the deep thought he had given it. Mr. Holmes was an able newspaperman, thoroughly qualified to carry on this work."

Mrs. Ziegler was equally impressed. "Start the magazine; I will pay the bills," she said. Walter Holmes could hardly believe his ears. "But, my dear madam," he expostulated, "do you realize that this will require many thousands of dollars every year?" "I will pay the bills," reiterated Mrs. Ziegler, smiling.

"I felt I was dreaming," Holmes said later, "and I didn't want to turn over on my side for fear I'd wake up."

During this interview, Holmes learned that their concern for the well being of blind people stemmed from similar causes. Mrs. Ziegler had a blind son, while Holmes had a blind brother. As he later recounted, "Mrs. Ziegler said that she had always wanted to do something for the blind and that if I would take charge of a magazine for the blind, as I already had some knowledge of printing and editorial work, she would finance it."

To start up such a magazine from scratch was an enormous undertaking. To begin with, no manufacturing plant existed that was capable of producing the enormous amount of embossed pages the new magazine would need. By summer of 1905, Holmes was ready to spend almost a year visiting printing plants in England, Scotland, France and Germany to find out what kinds of equipment could be adapted to the new magazine's requirements. Assured that the necessary equipment could be developed, he next had to find readers. On his return to New York, he sent letters to every school, agency and home for the blind inviting those who would like the type of magazine he and Mrs. Ziegler had in mind to apply for it. Some 1,500 people wrote. The proposed magazine received widespread publicity in newspapers, and readers were asked to send in the names of blind people who would be interested in receiving it.

Putting out that first issue must have been a nightmare. The magazine operated out of a temporary office on Broadway. It had no embossing equipment of its own and few staff.

Even before a magazine could be published, a difficult decision had to be made. In 1907, no single embossed reading system was used by all blind readers. While systems based on the shapes of print letters were now acknowledged to be inferior to reading systems that used raised dots, two completely different, dot-based systems were widely used: New York Point and braille.

Which system should the magazine use? Few blind people could read both. It was Matilda Ziegler's generosity that solved this problem. She simply agreed to pay for the magazine to be issued in both systems, even though this greatly added to the expense she would face.

The number of pages that would make up the first issue was so large that its manufacture had to be divided among two established printing plants: The American Printing House for the Blind was the larger, and it embossed the New York Point edition of 4,500 copies—more than 250,000 pages for the 56-page issue (including the cover). It required two weeks to emboss this quantity, and the Printing House was pleased with how quickly it completed the job! The braille run of 2,000 copies was undertaken by the Industrial Institute for the Blind in Hartford, Connecticut, an organization Holmes favored because it attempted to increase employment opportunities for blind people.

By 1907, Holmes had determined that the best way to produce large quantities of embossed pages would be to modify a regular rotary printing press—remember he was a newspaper man. He had ascertained that such modifications were feasible, but could not be completed in time for the first issue of the Ziegler. By the summer of 1907 the magazine had purchased one press, and a second press was bought that September, along with machinery to bind the magazine. This equipment was installed in the magazine's first home on Manhattan's Eighth Avenue and 53rd Street, where a four-room loft was rented.

To a sighted visitor it quickly became obvious that this was no ordinary publishing operation. There were indeed sighted women working at typewriters, but also scattered about on desks and tables were all manner of knitted items, shawls, pink and blue baby clothing, woven baskets—all made by blind people who had sent them to the magazine for sale. The Ziegler had also arranged for the large Macy's store to open a department where items made by blind people were sold at no commission.

In 1911, the magazine moved into larger premises, just a block away, on 54th Street. This was to be its home for 16 years, and it became also a home away from home for many blind people.

Blind people visiting New York, and those living or working there, knew they would be welcome to call on Mr. Holmes and the staff of the Ziegler. As one reader put it, the office was a "refuge from the turmoil of the city and a source of inspiration and hope."

In time, these premises began to prove too expensive, and in 1927 the magazine moved into a former carriage house it had purchased in Monsey, in suburban New York. The plant stayed there for 40 years, continuing production every month throughout the second world war. That was a difficult time because it was hard to obtain paper of a high-enough quality to hold the raised dots; readers often encountered holes where dots should have been. War-time shortages also made it difficult to repair and maintain the aging machinery properly.

In 1965, production of the braille edition was transferred to the Clovernook Printing House for the Blind (now known as the Clovernook Center) in Cincinnati, OH, where it is still produced. Two years later, the office was moved back to New York City, where its quarters were rented from the American Foundation for the Blind. When AFB sold its buildings in 1994, the magazine moved, in a coincidental completion of a circle, back to the very avenue on which it had started—Eighth Avenue, but 40 blocks south.

In its determination to help blind people to become self-reliant, the magazine had encouraged a blind man named Joseph Tyman to set up an express and delivery business. Each month he was paid to haul the 200 sacks of the bulky magazine to the Post Office. At first, all these mail bags were taken in horse-drawn carts.

The magazine's dedication to helping blind people extended to employing them. Blind women were hired to proofread the brass plates from which the raised dots were embossed. At least one blind man was employed to operate the press, and for one week each month, blind women collated the sheets that made up each issue. The "girls" called this their week of happiness. "They love to earn the money we pay them and also the change in getting away from their narrow lives," Holmes explained. The collation procedure was simplicity itself. All 400,000 sheets of paper that made up each month's issue were arranged in piles in numerical order on a very large table. The women walked round and round the table picking up one sheet from each pile, so putting together one complete issue. Assembled issues were handed to the operator of a stitching machine that stapled the pages together. The stitching machine could be operated by a blind person.

It is significant that the most efficient worker in the collating department was a young deaf and blind woman. Evidently, she was never distracted and could fully concentrate on what she had to do.

The Ziegler Magazine's embossing plant was by far the largest in the world. One estimate indicated that it could turn out in one day as much work as would require 320 men and 140 machines by the methods then used in England. Indeed, if the English method had been used to produce the Ziegler, a single month's edition would have kept two men and one machine busy for two years. The magazine was revolutionary not only in its conception, but also in its manufacturing techniques.

At first, raised-dot reading materials could be embossed on only one side of the page, since there was no way to emboss dots on the second side without crushing the first set of dots. This remained true in the United States until the 1920's. But as early as 1914 the Ziegler plant had constructed ingenious machinery for two-sided (interpoint) printing that halved the bulk of each monthly issue. While the dots produced were not of a high-enough quality to be used for books, they were perfectly suited to something as ephemeral as a magazine.

Although the magazine was free of charge to its readers, at first they were supposed to pay a subscription fee of 10 cents per year to qualify the magazine for the second-class mailing rate—an important consideration for such a bulky magazine (a single copy weighed more than 1-1/2 pounds!). Second-class postage saved the magazine nearly $8,000 per year. Always open-hearted, Mr. Holmes was not especially diligent in collecting this fee. By 1910 it, in any case, became unnecessary. That year, the Ziegler gained passage through Congress of a bill that allowed magazines for blind people to be mailed postage-free, provided they did not charge subscriptions or carry paid advertising. In 1904 Congress had enacted a free mailing privilege for books loaned by libraries for the blind, but the Post Office would not allow this to apply to magazines until 1910, when Congressman William H. Stafford of Wisconsin introduced a bill specifically designed to spare the Ziegler the expense of postage. This bill, which Holmes instigated, has since benefitted every comparable periodical for the blind and physically handicapped.

The new magazine's editorial policy was clearly spelled out in the "Publisher's Announcement" that led off the first issue, March 1907. "It is our intention," Holmes wrote, "to make a magazine that will appeal to the greatest number of blind, not of so high a class as to appeal only to the few very literary, and yet one in which the blind will find matters of interest to them."

We will have short stories, a continued story, the news of the month condensed, a department of poetry and one of letters from successful blind people, telling of the line of work in which they are engaged. This will stimulate others to take up similar lines of work. There may be a page devoted to games.... A page will be devoted to short humorous paragraphs, and a prize will be given each month for the one who sends in the best joke.... A musical column will be added later and prizes given for the best musical composition furnished by a blind reader. If sufficient number of our readers can read music, a piece of music will be published each month.

"It is the intention to make the magazine as near as possible like those published for the seeing. As Miss Helen Keller puts it in her letter to Mrs. Ziegler published in this issue, 'The Blind are not specialists interested only in blindness.'"

Not all these features materialized, though the musical interest was evidently so great that for several years it evolved into a separate magazine, The Ziegler Musical Quarterly, listing Walter G. Holmes as publisher, and costing $1.00 per year. This publication chronicled the music events of the day. It enabled the blind musician in far-away places to read about "Elektra" as well as if he had sight. When permission was received, parts of new and popular songs were printed. This filled a serious gap in the availability of music to blind people. Those who supported themselves by teaching music and by playing at dances and in cafes and other public places were supplied by the schools with classical music, but practically none of the popular kind.

Other features of the Ziegler were later dropped in light of changing conditions. All the same, the basic precept—that the magazine would not center on blindness, but on the world at large—has never changed throughout the magazine's long history.

It is difficult now to grasp just how isolated blind people were at the turn of the century, when there was no radio. So vital a source of information was the new Ziegler Magazine that blind readers would "haunt" post offices throughout the country on the day set for the appearance of a new number of the Ziegler.

One reader wrote to Mrs. Ziegler, "When I came back from my state school for the blind to my little home in this little village, I realized that my family did no reading, and I gradually drifted into a distressing state, and I rarely went out in my little community feeling that I knew nothing of what was going on in the world and I was ashamed to let my neighbors see how little I did know. Later your magazine came and kept me informed on the things that were going on in the world. I then began to go out among our neighbors, and I soon felt that I could hold my own among them, and it will interest you to know that I soon joined a literary society, and when my turn comes to conduct the meeting I feel no hesitation to do so, feeling that I am now capable of doing so, and all this has come through your magazine."

On the magazine's 25th anniversary in 1932, another reader recalled her reactions to the magazine. When the first number of the big magazine came to me in March 1907 I had been out of school for three years and had little or nothing to read, so that Magazine...opened a new school and a new world of sunshine for me. ...I feel that this magazine has ben a ladder of success for many of us and that its contents are lifting us higher each month. May its pages continue to lift us higher and higher until we are more nearly on a level with the sighted world.

"No other work on the North American continent has done half so much for the blind. It has each month sent millions of little dots of joy streaming across the great expanse of our republic, bringing joy and happiness to dark eyes and longing finger tips."

A humorous recollection came from another reader on the magazine's 50th anniversary. "I'm not sure that I ever read the actual first...copy. But I made the magazine's acquaintance early in its existence—and mine—and it was a big event in my life."

In those days I was...struggling to make my way in the world of reading, and the magazine, intended for adults, served as a stone on which I unconsciously whetted my vocabulary as well as my ideas.

For instance, the word `current' in `Current Events' stumped me for a long time. I knew of a fruit by that name, but both the spelling and context told me that the two didn't fit. So then I thought that maybe the people who put the magazine together were making a mistake, intending to write "Certain Events," but when it went on month after month, that didn't seem reasonable either. And before I got this problem figured out, I ran into references to woman suffrage. Naturally, I thought that this must have something to do with childbirth. But then, why was Mrs. Pankhurst, in England, getting herself and her friends arrested? I was sure my mother could tell me, but I was too embarrassed to ask.

On the occasion of the magazine's fifth anniversary, in 1912, 5,000 readers contributed 10 cents each to present Mrs. Ziegler with a bronze statue of the Three Graces, a reproduction of a museum piece by the 18th century French sculptor Germain Pilon. The triangular marble base on which the sculpture is mounted was inscribed, on one side: "To Mrs. William Ziegler, March 1, 1912," and on the second side: "From Five Thousand Grateful Readers of the Ziegler Magazine on Its Fifth Anniversary." The inscription on the third side read, "The greatest of these is love—a love that uplifts." Along with the statue went a casket containing a leather-bound book on whose parchment leaves the names of all 5,000 givers were inscribed in India ink. Among those making donations were readers from Canada, the British Isles, Germany, Mexico, Holland, Norway, France, Palestine, India, Sweden, West Indies, Australia, and South Africa. All of these readers must have taken the trouble to learn either American braille or New York Point, neither of which was used in their own countries.

United in their desire to serve the best interests of blind people, Matilda Ziegler and Walter Holmes recognized few limits to the expression of that desire. They sought other channels of service.

With Mrs. Ziegler footing the bill, Broadway acting companies were induced to give special matinee performances for blind audiences. Every Christmas for a number of years the small staff of the Ziegler Magazine took time out from their regular duties to fill 500 food baskets with chickens, sweet potatoes, onions, fruit, candy, cakes, jellies and raisins for delivery to institutions and homes for the blind.

As early as 1908, a watch manufacturer was persuaded to produce a line of braille watches, which were sold to readers at cost. Later, radios and typewriters were similarly made available. Holmes even permitted installment payments, as little as a dollar a month, so that people could acquire these needed objects. He even offered to pay the cost of installing an antenna for a reader in a remote area if her radio could not pick up programs.

The expense of record-keeping for all of these non-publishing activities was absorbed with the other overhead. With the help of occasional gifts from well-wishers, many radios were given free of charge to people who could not afford even minimal payment. There was never an organized attempt at fund-raising, but Walter Holmes was so well-known and beloved a personality that he inspired spontaneous gifts.

As time went on, many of these sidelines were taken over by other organizations. Nevertheless, until the mid-1970's, readers of the Ziegler could still order Remington portable typewriters and Baby Ben alarm clocks at prices not obtainable elsewhere.

Apart from their shared experiences of familial blindness, and their unbounded goodwill toward all who could not see, Electa Matilda Ziegler and Walter George Holmes had little in common.

Mrs. Ziegler was born April 13th, 1841, in Schuylerville, NY, the daughter of Henry D. and Electa Abel Curtis. She was still in her teens when she married Edward R. Gamble. Their one son, Charles, born in 1862, lost his eyesight when still a baby. Edward Gamble died not long thereafter and the young widow, left in modest circumstances, found employment on a national magazine until, in 1885, she married William Ziegler.

His origins were also humble. The son of immigrants from Germany, he was born in Pennsylvania and raised in Iowa. He gained some knowledge of chemistry as a druggist's clerk and after graduating from Eastman's Business College in Poughkeepsie, NY, he developed a quick-rising baking powder that he was sure was superior to, yet cheaper than, competing products. Bursting with confidence, he set out on foot with a satchel of the powder done up in paper bags to sell his product directly to housewives in the villages and towns of Iowa. In only one year, his success was such that he could, with partners, organize the Royal Baking Powder Company, which became the basis of his large fortune. This was the man Matilda Ziegler married in 1885.

In 1901, the Zieglers adopted Mr. Ziegler's five-year-old nephew. In later years, William Ziegler, Jr., was to carry forward and enlarge his mother's activities on behalf of blind people, serving, among other things, as president of the American Foundation for the Blind.

The senior William Ziegler devoted his later years to scientific discovery and exploration. The expeditions to the Arctic he financed in 1901 and 1903 did not manage to reach the Pole. Indeed, that goal was not attained until 1909 with Admiral William Peary's expedition. William Ziegler died while his second expedition was still lost somewhere in the Arctic, and his last words were an appeal for the rescue of the men.

It was Matilda Ziegler's share of William Ziegler's multi-million dollar estate that enabled her to finance the launching, maintenance, and ultimately endowment of the monthly magazine.

Matilda Ziegler was reluctant at first to have her role disclosed, preferring to remain anonymous. But family and friends finally persuaded her to allow the magazine to carry her name. An exceptionally private woman, who did not want even photographs of her to be kept, she never set foot in the magazine's office, never wrote a line for it, and never suggested any editorial policies.

She did, however, request that the magazine avoid such controversial subjects as religion and politics, because she wanted all readers, no matter what their beliefs, to be able to enjoy it. She also asked that the magazine refrain from publishing scandal. This was perfectly agreeable to Walter Holmes, who had equally firm moral standards.

Electa Matilda Ziegler died September 1st, 1932, aged 91, at her New York mansion. During the celebrations of the magazine's 25th anniversary earlier that year, she received a letter from president Herbert Hoover praising the "wonderful blessings she had bestowed." Gratifying as was this tribute from the White House, it probably meant less to her than the 1,200 letters sent to her from magazine readers at Christmas 1927, most of them bearing the postscript, "I typed this myself." Those letters were instigated by Homes in a column suggesting that this would be a nice way to observe the magazine's 20th anniversary.

When Holmes was born July 9th, 1861, in Jackson, TN, his father, a teacher by profession, was serving in the Confederate Army. During the years that George Holmes's sons, James and Walter, were growing up, the family lived in Covington, TN, where his father was principal of a girls' seminary. The boys' mother had died when they were young, and the elder Holmes re-married. James, who was known as "Jimmy", was two years older than Walter and became blind at age two months after an illness.

Walter Holmes received a B.A. degree from Union University in Jackson and then entered newspaper work. He was at first employed on the Kansas City Times but in 1888 he moved to Memphis to take a job with the Commercial Appeal.

A warm, dedicated man with a sly sense of humor and imbued with a strong sense of mission. Holmes came to assume so benevolent a role in the lives of Ziegler readers that he was called "Uncle Walter" by thousands who had never met him.

In June 1927, readers of the Ziegler had been given a chance to show how they felt about the editor. They responded to a letter from Robert Irwin, then president of the American Association of Workers for the Blind (AAWB), asking them to donate from 10 cents up to one dollar for the purchase of a gold watch to be presented to Holmes at the AAWB convention. The response was so overwhelming that, even though all gifts in excess of a dollar were returned to the senders, enough money was raised to buy Holmes not only a watch but also an automobile. It is typical of the man that his first thoughts about the auto was how much the blind workers at the Ziegler plant would enjoy being taken for rides in the country.

He died February 7th, 1946, in a fall from the window of his New York hotel, the mystery surrounding the circumstances of his death was never solved. Some were convinced that the frail octogenarian had been pushed out of the window by a thief to whom he had trustingly opened his door. Holmes did suffer from vertigo, and it is possible that he suffered an attack while he climbed up to adjust the curtains, and fell out. The curtains were still in his grasp when he was found on the roof of an extension over lower floors.

In death, as in life, his principal concern was with the well-being of blind people. His will provided that the bulk of his modest savings be spent outright to provide typewriters and radios to blind people who could not afford to buy them. Many hundreds benefitted by this $27,000 bequest in the years following Holmes's death.

While Walter Holmes had already spent more than one year doing the necessary leg-work before this unprecedented magazine could come into existence, a legally organized publishing company was not set up until February 27th, 1907. By that date, the first issue was already complete. One thousand dollars of capital stock in the Matilda Ziegler Publishing Company for the Blind was issued in shares of $100.00. Mrs. Ziegler had six shares, and one share each was purchased by Walter Holmes, L. Bertrand Smith, W. S. Champ (William Ziegler's former secretary and the man who had led the rescue operation of the second Ziegler Arctic expedition) and W.C. Demarest (Mrs. Ziegler's nephew). For the next 22 years, Mrs. Ziegler gave at least $5,000.00 every quarter to the Publishing Company as working capital. Perhaps because start-up expenses were extraordinary, in 1908 she supplied $5,000.00 [equivalent to at least $75,000.00 in today's money] on January 3rd, April 9th, July 8 and September 17th, and she gave another $5,000.00 January 14th, 1909. It was not unusual for her to contribute more than four times a year.

Between December 1926 and December 1927 she gave $57,500.00, probably to cover the additional expense of moving the publishing plant to Monsey. In 1928, after having spent $550,000 to cover the costs of publication, she set aside $654,000 in securities to establish the E. Matilda Ziegler Foundation for the Blind. Her will added $213,600 to this sum. The income from the prudently invested principal has financed publication of the magazine ever since. Income beyond that required for the magazine is used for grants to other causes dedicated to ameliorating the condition of blind people.

Although issuing the Ziegler in both New York Point and braille met the needs of most blind readers, there were still some people who were most familiar with a reading system dating back to the 1830's known as Boston Line Type, or simply Line Type. This was based on the shapes of print letters and was easy for sighted people to read, not so easy for the blind, even though the hard-to-detect curved shapes of such letters as "o" and "e" were modified to incorporate angles (so that "o" was almost diamond shaped). Always mindful for readers' needs, Walter Holmes wanted to make it easy for them to become familiar with either New York Point or braille. To this end, he gave the key to these raised-dot codes in line type letters of the alphabet on the cover of each issue. Because sighted people could readily read Line Type, they could also guide the blind person in learning one of the dot-based codes. Each issue was therefore, in fact, produced in three embossed reading systems.

Braille was officially adopted as the standard reading system in 1932, but that did not mean the immediate end of New York Point. As late as 1937, there were still 2,000 New York Point subscribers, though by then those who preferred braille numbered 9,000. Indeed, the New York Point edition was discontinued only in 1963, when its readership had dwindled to 300.

There was also a Moon Type edition, begun in 1934 to serve the needs of people who lost their eyesight in later years and found it difficult to learn a dot-based code. Moon Type, invented by a blind man in England, was easier to recognize because it was based on the shapes of print letters. It took up far more space than braille, and this edition invariably consisted of an abridged version of the braille edition.

When braille readers complained to Walter Holmes that the New York Point edition used contractions, and therefore contained more material than the braille issue (which without cuts would require 15 more pages than New York Point) he listened. As early as 1908, he introduced space-saving contractions into the braille edition too. As a financially independent publisher, he could avoid all the intense controversy surrounding raised-dot codes, and even when Standard English Braille was accepted throughout the English-speaking countries in the 1930's, (it is now known as contracted braille) he continued to use a hybrid version that has more contractions than Grade 1-1/2, but fewer than Grade 2. Because of his continual contact with large numbers of blind people, he was well aware that many readers could not make the transition to the more highly contracted code.

The various grades of braille differ in the number of contractions used to save space. For example, "can" is represented by the single letter "c", "people" by "p", and "very" by "v"; there are also contractions for frequently occurring suffixes such as "ing." Full Grade 2 was not adopted by the magazine until some years after Holmes's death.

Volume 1, Number 1, of the Matilda Ziegler Magazine for the Blind, while not exactly a preview of succeeding issues, gave readers a taste of the variety that would mark future contents. Its 52 pages began with a "Publisher's Announcement" that told the story of the magazine's origin, outlined editorial policy and ended with mild advice: "Mrs. Ziegler says she will feel amply repaid for the outlay of the money if the blind derive one-half the pleasure from reading the magazine that she does in sending it; and she urges readers to make an effort to rise above their affliction; to learn to do something, though ever so small, by which to employ their time; to keep always in a cheerful mood, for thereby they are happier themselves and make their friends and loved ones around them more happy. Each effort made to do something will make you stronger in your next effort for something higher."

There followed letters of commendation from President Theodore Roosevelt and former President Grover Cleveland (who as a young man had worked in a school for the blind in New York). A long letter from Helen Keller to Mrs. Ziegler was included, and she made a plea that the magazine be as nearly as possible like those for the sighted. "We are not children to be written down to, not specialists interested only in blindness. We are human beings of varied intelligence and many interests and aspirations. The new magazine will be a boon to the happiest and most successful of us. To the poorer and less fortunate of us it will be a God send."

The lead article was excerpted from Fighting the Polar Ice, a book by Anthony Fiala, who led the second Ziegler Arctic expedition. The well-loved Fiala, who had so impressed William Ziegler with his leadership qualities, described the hardships of the expedition, and the thorough planning that had made it possible. Strangely enough, this article ended inconclusively, with the explorers still trapped in the Arctic. When it was reprinted in the March 1997 issue, celebrating the magazine's 90th anniversary, many readers wanted to know the rest of the story, and an account of the rescue of the explorers made up the "Editor's Line" in the July 1997 issue.

The second article in March 1907, "A Good Physical Exercise" gave instructions for simple exercises that blind people could perform either outdoors or in the home in order to keep fit.

Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch, the initial installment of a bittersweet novel by Alice Caldwell Hegan, took up the next 11 pages. There followed two pages of jokes and six pages of "Current Events." Among these were reports of a train wreck that killed 30 people and injured many more—mostly Mexican laborers, an earthquake in Jamaica, a California lawsuit over free education for children of Japanese immigrants, and the seventh national exhibition of the Automobile Association, which "presents one of the most remarkable sights in the history of mankind. There you may see a collection of machinery so wonderful in its performance, as well as in its possibilities, that a mere recital of them sounds like a tale of fairyland." Among the wonder of the automobile would be the ability to travel form New York to San Francisco "with no aid but a few gallons of coal essence and a little water."

Esperanto had just been promulgated at an international conference, and the magazine gave the text of the Esperanto Hymn of Peace. A short story took up the next five pages, followed by the Ella Wheeler Wilcox poem, "This, Too, Shall Pass Away." After a miscellany called "Some Interesting Facts" (fair-haired people have more hairs than brunettes; a watch's balance spring vibrates 18,000 times an hour), the magazine ended with an embossed image of the United States flag with a poem, "Your Flag and My Flag." The back cover featured an annotated embossed map of the Caribbean area.

Maps and diagrams continued to be a feature during all the years the Ziegler had its own plant. They were particularly appreciated during the two world wars, when maps of the battle zones helped readers to keep abreast of the shifting fronts. During the excitement over the excavation of the tomb of Tutankhamen in Egypt, readers could follow events by examining a raised-line diagram of the tomb.

During its first four decades, the magazine devoted more than a quarter of its space to recounting current events. At a time when radio did not even exist, and later was too expensive for the average blind person to afford, a heavy dose of news was what readers needed and wanted. In the early years Current Events also included items of the kind now included in the Special Notices section, such as reports of developments in work for the blind, of services available from organizations of and for the blind, announcements of articles readers want to buy, swap or give away, and requests for pen pals.

Along practical lines, early issues of the magazine regularly featured articles entitled "Successful Blind." Walter Holmes was an enthusiastic believer in salesmanship as a productive field for blind persons (he once gave a paper on the subject to an AAWB convention) and he took concrete steps to enable readers to start entrepreneurial careers. He bought quantities of small articles from wholesalers and resold them at cost to people who could in turn retail them at a small profit. During the Depression years, the magazine listed 20 items it could supply to readers for resale, including pencils, pens, pencil sharpeners, rubber bands, shoelaces, ribbons and yarns.

At a time when organized work for the blind had not begun to assume its present dimensions, the Ziegler Magazine was in contact with more blind people of all ages and classes than any other entity. It came to serve as an advice bureau to which readers and their families could turn for all manner of information and help.

Howard Liechty, who succeeded Holmes as editor, once summed up the incidental functions of the Ziegler as "a bulletin board, an information bureau, a buyer's guide, a mutual assistance club, a commodity exchange, an advertising medium, a rehabilitation and vocational guidance and placement agent, a self-improvement association, a soap-box platform and, unwittingly, sometimes even a marriage bureau."

Liechty joined the staff in late 1939 as assistant and understudy to Holmes, and took over in March 1946 after the latter's death. He began his career as a teacher in schools for the sighted in the Asia and among Native Americans in Arizona. He went on to teach at the New York Institute for Education of the Blind [now the New York Institute for Special Education], where he acquired an orientation to blindness that made him receptive to the offer of a position as assistant editor of the Ziegler when Holmes decided it was time to groom his successor. Mr. Liechty retired in 1967 and died in 1987.

Arthur S. Keller, who followed Liechty as editor, moved into the post from the sales managership of the Aids and Appliances Division of the American Foundation for the Blind. He had been a government official, working in Egypt for the Foreign Broadcast Information Services of the United States, before joining the AFB research staff in 1959. A heart attack ended Keller's life in March 1977. Ernest G. Shaheen, a blind man with a strong musical talent, had been assistant editor since 1955 and was less than a year from retirement. He temporarily took over as editor until the appointment of Frances A. Koestler in January 1978. Mr. Shaheen died in February 1999.

In "A Letter from the Publisher" introducing the magazine's first woman editor, Helen Ziegler Steinkraus wrote: "Frances A. Koestler brings to the position an extensive background of editorial and journalistic experience as well as exceptional familiarity with the world of blindness. Her work in this field had included authorship of The Unseen Minority: A Social History of Blindness in the United States, which received the first Bledsoe Award from the American Association of Workers for the Blind as a major contribution to the literature. Earlier she was editor of The COMSTAC Report, which defined standards for services in work for the blind and led to the establishment of the National Accreditation Council. Mrs. Koestler has also served as consultant to the Industrial Home for the Blind and the Jewish Guild for the Blind and is the author of several hundred popular and professional magazine articles, books and pamphlets." Mrs. Koestler was a fine wordsmith and a first-class Scrabble player.

Mrs. Koestler retired in 1984, but continued to write a monthly column, "Frances Koestler's Journal," until 1988, and remained in close contact with the magazine until her death in February 1992.

Michael Mellor succeeded Mrs. Koestler as editor. Previously the assistant director of the Publications Department at the American Foundation for the Blind, Mr. Mellor brought a wealth of experience and a broad range of interests to the editorship. Before joining AFB in 1976, he had been a factory worker, radio mechanic in the British Royal Air Force, teacher, market research analyst, encyclopedia editor and magazine editor. He has an M.A. in the history of technology, and has worked in London as well as New York. After 18 years at the helm, Mr. Mellor retired at the end of 2002 to write a biography of Louis Braille.

The current editor is Gregory Evanina, an employee of the magazine since 1991. A native of southwestern Pennsylvania, Mr. Evanina has degrees in rhetoric and communication, and in journalism. Before joining the Ziegler, he held a variety of positions in the communications industry, including writing news stories for print and broadcast outlets, as well as handling public relations duties for such diverse organizations as a Shakespeare festival, a university sports information office, and a school for blind children, where his interest in blindness developed.

The magazine's peak circulation was reached in 1936, when its three editions went to 12,400 readers. Despite the many new channels of entertainment and information now accessible to blind people, circulation is as high as it has ever been since then. Almost 10,500 names are on the subscription list, with almost 4,500 taking the braille edition, and more than 6,000 taking the four-track cassette.

As is the case for all literature for the blind, books as well as magazines, braille readership has been in steady decline for some years. Still, an understanding of the importance for braille for literacy has recently emerged, and braille is still the best writing system for blind people. With its present roster of more than 4,000 braille subscribers, the Ziegler Magazine has the largest braille circulation of any secular publication.

Because many readers share their copies or send them overseas, and some subscriptions go to organizations, there is considerable multiple readership; an informed estimate as to the total number of people who read the magazine each month would be in the neighborhood of 20,000.

From its inception in 1974, the audio edition has been recorded by professional actors in the studios of American Foundation for the Blind. This edition was at first issued as a hard disc manufactured by AFB. A switch was made in 1980 to flexible soundsheets that played at 8 rpm; they were manufactured by Eva-Tone, of Clearwater, FL. In 1991 the disc edition was replaced by a tone-indexed, four-track cassette that has proved immensely popular with readers.

The Ziegler continually takes advantage of new methods of distribution. Beside braille and cassette, the magazine now is issued in two digital formats: floppy disk and e-mail. As new publishing alternatives become available, they too will be offered to readers.

Even when it had its own plant, the Ziegler Magazine operated with a relatively small staff. In Monsey days the full-time employees consisted of four office personnel, a stereotyper, and two pressmen. This was augmented three days a month by 13 part-time workers who collated, folded, stitched and wrapped the magazine for mailing.

In 1979, when the staff consisted of only two people, the editor and the circulation manager, who also handled clerical functions, the frequency of publication was reduced from monthly to 10 times a year. Monthly publication was resumed in 1991, when an associate editor was added to the staff.

The Ziegler family's interest in the magazine has not flagged. When Matilda Ziegler died, her son William Ziegler, Jr., became president of the publishing company. After the latter's death in 1958, his children took over. Today the Matilda Ziegler Publishing Company for the Blind has a nine-member board of directors headed by Matilda Ziegler's granddaughter, Helen Ziegler Steinkraus as president. William Ziegler III, grandson of the founder, is a member of the board, while other members are Cynthia Ziegler Brighton, Karl Ziegler, Eric M. Steinkraus, Philip Steinkraus (Matilda Ziegler's great-grandchildren, Charles B. Cook, Jr., investment advisor, Dr. Marvin L. Sears, formerly professor of ophthalmology, Yale University, and Michael Mellor, editor emeritus of the Ziegler Magazine. The same nine people serve as officers of the E. Matilda Ziegler Foundation for the Blind, which funds the publishing company. William Ziegler III is president of the Foundation.

The founding principle of the Matilda Ziegler Magazine for the Blind was that blind readers should have access to the same mix of information, ideas and entertainment as that available to sighted people. Under seven different editors, that principle has remained unchanged. In 1907 the magazine's popularity was due, in part at least, to the fact that nothing else like it existed. Today's blind and visually impaired people have access to radio, televison (with descriptions of the video), a National Library Service that produces quantities of books and magazines in braille and cassette—an array of resources unimaginable back in 1907. That the Ziegler Magazine nevertheless still commands the interest of so large a number of readers is a tribute to the vision and the foresight of Electa Matilda Ziegler and Walter George Holmes.