I always regarded my Dad as some kind of futurist when growing up in the mid to late 1960s (and well afterwards). As relayed in my post THE BIGGER IDEA (AND ME AS WINGBOY), he took me frequently to the PSI Computing Center on 42nd Street, a space-age looking place filled with refrigerator-sized computers. Real ones, complete with periodically spinning tapes and blinking lights. I had seen mock-ups on various science fiction shows on TV of course but there was nothing like the real thing.
If imitation is the greatest form of admiration, then I wanted to be forward seeing and thinking, too.
The Bernard Olcott Story 