Let’s start with this premise: Suppose the single most important element in a computer system’s accuracy and efficiency had nothing to do with processor speeds, operating systems, or graphic user interfaces.

Now, let’s add this bewildering assertion: Every AS/400, every PC for that matter, comes equipped with a technology that dates back to 1872 and has survived—to this day—virtually unchanged. Further, although this stubborn, archaic component continues to be culpable in nearly 100 percent of the errors that corrupt databases and sully written documents, neither IBM nor any other computer manufacturer has deliberate plans to replace it.

It is one of the peculiar footnotes in the history of computer development that, while engineers have directed an otherwise-accelerated evolution, concocting machines that have grown exponentially in speed, storage, and functionality, they have ignored the bottleneck that lay literally at their fingertips: the keyboard.

The keyboard, or more specifically the illogical arrangement of characters on the QWERTY keyboard (named after the first six letters in the top row), has survived undaunted, if not unchallenged, for over 125 years. From the singular placement of its characters, one might presume that a great deal of research went into the location of each letter, perhaps based on frequency of usage, simplicity, or repeated combination. The facts, however, are far less generous: like the discovery of the Americas, it was largely a matter of dumb luck.

In point of fact, the first commercial typewriters, patented in Milwaukee in 1868 and subsequently refined by a group of inventors led by Lathan Sholes and James Densmore, featured a keyboard with letters arranged alphabetically. But even before Remington—better known as a purveyor of guns—started manufacturing the units in 1873, it became evident that such an arrangement was not terribly practical. Not only was it perplexing to use, but it also presented a mechanical problem.

In those days, the type was suspended by wires in a basket arrangement inside the machine. Typing with any speed at all resulted in the letters jamming as they rose to strike the platen (a problem, in my experience, never fully surmounted on any manual typewriter). To reduce the incidence of jamming, Densmore enlisted his son-in-law, a school superintendent, to determine what letters or combinations of letters appeared most frequently in the English language. In 1872, on the advice of this obscure administrator, Densmore and Sholes shuffled their type basket, moving letters used recurrently as far apart as possible to avoid unwanted contact. When the dust cleared, the result was QWERTY.

It would be another 60 years before someone came up with a better mousetrap, and that someone was August Dvorak. Dvorak’s keyboard was not a response to a mechanical annoyance, but the result of 20 years of painstaking research financed by grants from the Carnegie Corporation. Dvorak, a professor of education and director of research at the University of Washington in Seattle, carefully dissected thousands of words, watched slow-motion film of typists at work, and tested more than 250 keyboards before settling on one.

The resulting orientation of keys was remarkable in many respects, but most notably for its speed, accuracy, and ease of use. For one thing, you could type about 3,000 words just on the home row, whereas QWERTY’s home row was primarily a place to rest the fingers. QWERTY, with only one vowel in the center row, yields just a handful of words without the considerable movement of the typist’s hands. Dvorak, instead, placed all the vowels in the home row under the fingers of the left hand. The right hand controlled the frequently used consonants H, T, N, S, and D. The J and the K, which occupy such a prominent place on the QWERTY keyboard but are seldom used, were relocated to the lover row in the space occupied by X and C.

Using Dvorak’s keyboard, typists could do a full 70 percent of their work on the home row, the result being less exertion and, consequently, less strain. The upper row got approximately 22 percent of the action, while the bottom row absorbed the remaining 8 percent. It seems a small thing, but it translates into a remarkable economy of motion. On a QWERTY keyboard, fingers typing for an entire workday will, depending on proficiency, travel approximately 16 miles over the keyboard. Using Dvorak’s simplified system, the commute is reduced to just over one mile.

And, since most people are right-handed, Dvorak let the right hand do 56 percent of the work and the left 44 percent—a division of labor reversed on QWERTY. Subsequently, he also developed a left-handed version of the keyboard.

By 1932, however, when Dvorak unveiled his invention, everyone using a typewriter (writers, transcribers, secretarial pools, schools, corporations) had already adapted to QWERTY, and Dvorak spent the next three decades proving over and over—to no avail—the superiority of his simplified system.

During the ’30s and ’40s, when typing was still a novelty and people marveled at the speed with which words could be transcribed, Dvorak pitted his keyboard against standard typists in regional and national competitions. In a nine-year stretch,

Dvorak typists won 26 first-place awards and four grand championships. One of his pupils, Lenore Fenton MacClain, who could type only a miserly 70 words per minute on a QWERTY keyboard, reportedly pounded out 182 words on her teacher’s keyboard. Subsequently, the Guinness Book of World Records chronicled the exploits of typing- tornado Barbara Blackburn, who held the national title for 14 years by routinely pummeling Dvorak’s simplified keyboard to the tune of 170 words per minute.

A breakthrough nearly came during World War II, when Dvorak staged a compelling demonstration, training 14 Navy typists to use his system. After only a month, the women were churning out 74 percent more work with a 68 percent improvement in accuracy. The Navy was so impressed that it was reportedly prepared to switch entirely to Dvorak’s system.

Then, without explanation, funding for the project was abruptly withdrawn, and the entire matter was classified—a mystery worthy of conspiracy theorists.

But Dvorak pressed on, and in 1965 received an endorsement from the U.S. Bureau of Standards. Apparently weary of the volumes of evidence Dvorak was submitting in his ever-hopeful quest of shifting the national consciousness, the bureau noted: “There is little need to demonstrate further the superiority of the Dvorak keyboard in experimental tests. Plenty of well-documented evidence exists.”

None of it, however, seemed to make much of a difference. Inertia, apathy, lack of public understanding, poor marketing, unfavorable alignment of the planets, who knows? Dvorak remained the Rodney Dangerfield of keyboard creators.

And yet, Dvorak’s keyboard stubbornly refused to die. Over the years, it made enough of an impression on hardware providers that, although the keyboard doesn’t come as standard equipment, it does, to the surprise of many, come as a configuration feature. AS/400 users can reconfigure their keyboards through Client Access/400’s customization feature. Windows 95 users can find Dvorak by opening the Control Panel, opening Keyboard, clicking on the Languages option, selecting a language, and then going to Properties. NT users will find Dvorak support built in as a “language.” Simply access the Control Panel, open International, and then select Keyboard Layout.

Of course, reconfiguring your keyboard will not reconfigure your keys, but you can purchase plastic caps to cover the old keys with the Dvorak design. However, simple pieces of tape with hand-written letters will do just as well if you want to practice. Hardwired keyboards are also available, but they may be difficult to find.

Learning the new system takes some time, since most of us are pretty wedded to QWERTY and our fingers move with unconscious precision. It will be especially difficult if, during the learning process, you frequently switch back to the standard keyboard. But, for those who spend the better part of each day parked before a computer screen, patience will be rewarded with an increase in productivity and a decrease in pain.

For many, a twofold increase in typing speed—quite common with the Dvorak system—means getting the job done in half the time. And while time may not be money, it is life and, once spent, is not recoverable, thus making any savings exceptionally valuable.

Certainly anyone suffering from carpal tunnel should try it. Anecdotal reports and apparently several studies indicate that people using the Dvorak simplified keyboard have found relief from carpal tunnel symptoms. If the alternative is surgery, the choice seems painlessly obvious.

To find out more, contact Dvorak International, a nonprofit institute that carries on the quixotic work of its namesake. The institute has an informative Web site at http://www.dvorakint.org.

Oh, and if you’re wondering if this article was written on a Dvorak keyboard, well, let me put it this way: It took longer to cut, label, and paste 33 tiny pieces of tape than it did to type the article.

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