Barcodes. It's hard to
imagine a world without them. These little black and white lines have
been making our lives easier for decades. We never really give them a second
thought, but that's the whole point. Barcodes are designed to handle all kinds
of complex information so we don't have to. Most of us associate barcodes
with the checkout line at the store, but we also use them
for tracking our package deliveries, sharing information on the go, and so much more. By the mid 1970s, computers were
becoming powerful enough to make this technology
practical for everyday use. But the first barcode actually got its
start more than a decade earlier. It wasn't found on store shelves. It wasn't even used by the general public. It was actually trying to solve
a much more specific problem. From the 1950s into the 60s, Americans
were in the midst of an economic boom. Incomes were high, gas prices were low, and technology was advancing
at an incredible pace. Many industries are thriving, but one
of them was struggling to survive the railroads. The years following World War II had left
them worn down and financially gutted. While passenger trains had once
been the most popular way to travel in the US, that business
was quickly evaporating. But Americans are traveling
more than ever before. The airline industry
was growing exponentially. Flights were becoming more
affordable, and travelers could go anywhere in the country
in a matter of hours. Meanwhile, President Eisenhower introduced
a new Interstate Highway system. This made cross-country
travel more accessible, using a network of roads
designed for speed and convenience. American car culture was in full force. Millions were getting hooked,
and they weren't looking back. As a result, the romance of train
travel was quickly forgotten. More and more seats became empty. Schedules were canceled. Stations were practically abandoned. The railroads had lost a huge
portion of their revenue, and many of them were
forced into bankruptcy. Some managed to survive by refocusing
their business on freight instead. As this shift was happening, and the
world was becoming more advanced, one of the industry's oldest unsolved
problems was becoming more apparent. Over a million freight cars were moving back
and forth across the country every day, but the railroads didn't have any good way
of keeping track of where they were. in a single long distance trip, freight cars were
stopped and reorganized several times, and they changed hands between
multiple railroads in the process. The only way to track their location
was to stop the whole train, manually write down every car's
serial number by hand, and then log this information with punch cards. Needless to say, this process was incredibly slow,
inefficient, and prone to human error. Shipments were often misplaced, and customers were not happy. In the mid 1950s, a young college student
named David Collins was spending his summers
working for the Pennsylvania railroad. It didn't take long for him to notice
that freight cars were very hard to keep track of. Collins knew this wasn't
a sustainable way to do business, but he was pursuing a degree
in civil engineering, so this was just the sort of puzzle
to catch his interest. The company was the industry
leader at the time. So how was it that even
they weren't immune to this issue? Collins researched
the problem in his spare time, but eventually he set it aside
as he continued his education. A few years later, in 1959, Collins
graduated from MIT with a master's degree
in Industrial Management. That fall, he landed a job with Sylvania, located in Waltham, Massachusetts,
just outside Boston. Sylvania was a household name
for a variety of products, including televisions,
vacuum tubes and flash bulbs. The company had also been working on electronics for industrial
and military applications. Collins was hired on to Sylvania's
Electronic Systems Division. This was a research and development lab
where the company was testing new technologies, like digital pattern recognition. The division was looking for a new project
for their industrial scale computers, and Collins chimed in with an idea. He explained the problem he had witnessed
during those Pennsylvania summers, and suggested that they use these computers
to automatically track the location of railcars. Seeing the business potential for this idea, his management approved the project
and put him in charge. Just like that,Collins was given access
to dozens of research engineers and some of the best computer
technology of the time. Collins and his team began
holding meetings with railroad companies, learning about their specific
needs and developing a new system to best serve their business. The companies wanted to track their cars
without needing the trains to be stopped. Instead, the system would need to
work while trains were moving, even as fast as 60 miles per hour. And since rail cars were subjected to a
variety of climates and weather conditions, they also needed something resilient
that could withstand the elements. Most importantly, it had to be
financially practical and scalable, With some fleets numbering in the tens of thousands, the system couldn't cost more than about a dollar per car. With these specs in mind, Collins' team spent the next year exploring several different technologies. By the end of 1960, they
settled on using light scanners, and a series of bars
that could be read electronically. Each car would have a barcode of 13 labels, which were made from Scotchlite
reflective material, produced by 3M. The labels had unique color
coding to represent different digits. The scanner was resilient to weather,
vibrations, and tampering, and would turn on automatically
whenever a train would approach. In a quick sweep of light, each car's
label was scanned from bottom to top. The first four digits were used to identify
the company that owned the car. Another six digits identified
that specific car's serial number. As the light reflected off the labels, it bounced back into the scanner, and
was then decoded as numerical digits. All of this data was sent
to a specialized console where the entire train's data
was printed out. What used to be a long
and tedious process could now be done automatically
in a matter of seconds. This innovation was the first of its kind. But unbeknownst to the team, a similar idea had actually been proposed
more than a decade earlier. Two engineering students, Bernard Silver
and Norman Joseph Woodland, filed the first patent for an optically
scanned black and white barcode in 1949. Their solution was proposed
for the grocery industry, as stores were looking for a way to
automatically track their inventory and speed up checkout lines. Silver & Woodland pitched their
concept to IBM in the early 50s. But while IBM saw promise in the idea, the computers at the time
simply couldn't make it practical. They had no choice but to wait for the
technology to catch up with their vision. Now almost a decade later, the Sylvania engineers had come up
with their own optical scanners, and this time, technology
was on their side. By March of 1961, the scanning system was
ready to leave the lab and begin field testing. It was also given a name, Kartrak ACI,
or Automatic Car Identification. The team partnered with the Boston & Maine
Railroad to install the first scanners and labels. The B&M was a natural choice, partially
because they were a local company. The first scanner was installed
in Woburn, Massachusetts, just down the road from
Sylvania's lab in Waltham. The B&M also offered both commuter
service and freight operations. This was important, as it would allow Kartrak to be tested in both of these settings at once. Better yet, the B&M's gravel trains
stayed on a predictable route, which would help keep the test controlled
while the team worked out the kinks in the system. Perhaps in a bit of poetic justice,
the gravel was being carried for the construction of Interstate 93 in New Hampshire. The new highways had posed a threat
to the railroad business, but now Sylvania was using these shipments
to help the industry modernize itself. Testing on the Boston & Maine proved
very successful over the next couple of years, and soon Kartrak was ready to hit the market. During this time, however, other groups
had started jumping on the bandwagon and were developing their own
competing products. These used a wide range of technologies,
from magnetic coding to TV cameras. The Sylvania team was determined
to beat out the competition, so they focused on marketing
Kartrak to smaller railroads with predictable operations,
similar to the B&M. The strategy paid off, and by 1966,
they had sold the system to 20 railroads, with more than 50,000 railcars being
labeled and scanned across the country. This was an impressive feat and helped
establish their position on the market. But Collins knew the potential
for success was far greater. While they had made
about $200,000 so far, their studies showed that the US railroads
had a market potential of $25 million. And if Kartrak could be adapted
to other industries as well, that potential could grow to $58 million The opportunity was immense,
but getting there would not be easy. Many railroads were cautious
to buy into the new technology. They had seen enough competitors
making big promises, and then delaying their
products year after year. To help establish their credibility, Sylvania
published a full-page ad in the Wall Street Journal, with the promise of saving
the industry $3 billion. Their plan was to offer Kartrak
as a kind of subscription service. Sylvania would lease the scanners and barcodes, take care of the ongoing maintenance,
and manage all of the data. All the railroad had to do was pay
an ongoing rate for the service. This proposal was also sent directly to
the presidents of the top 20 railroads, who collectively owned 75%
of the rail cars in the industry. This aggressive campaign
drummed up more interest in Kartrak, but there was one detail tripping them up. The companies hesitated to let
Sylvania handle all of their data. They wanted to be able
to control it themselves. So the business model was adjusted. Sylvania would sell its barcodes
and scanners at a one-time cost. Companies would be responsible for
installing and maintaining their own systems, but they would also have
full control over their data. At this same time, the
Association of American Railroads had taken notice of all the automatic
tracking systems coming onto the market. This group was responsible for defining
many of the industry's standard practices, and they knew a solution would only make
sense on a national scale if it was standardized. The AAR asked for proposals from Sylvania
and several of their competitors, including big names like GE and RCA. Fortunately, Sylvania had the upper hand. Many of their competitors are proposing technologies
that weren't ready for the market yet. But Kartrak had already been installed on
several railroads and was proving successful. Unsurprisingly, it was among
the finalists selected for field testing. Now it would go head-to-head
against two competitors. Abex had developed a system
that transmitted radiated microwave beams to ID plates on each car. Wabco had a black and white barcode
system that was similar to a Kartrak, although the company had also been exploring
options like magnets and infrared radiation. The head-to-head field test took place over
the course of a year, starting in 1966. Coincidentally, this was carried
out on the Pennsylvania Railroad, where Collins had first been inspired
to solve this problem a decade earlier. On October 10, 1967, the ARR announced that Kartrak
would become the new industry standard. All of the nation's largest railroads
would now be required to install these barcodes on their one
point eight million freight cars. Collins and Sylvania couldn't have
dreamed of a better outcome. Not only had their product beat out
dozens of competitors, but they had also claimed
nearly the entire market. Always the innovator, Collins knew
this victory was only the beginning. The world had so many more problems
to solve, and he had already been thinking of ways to adapt
Kartrak to other industries. The concept could easily be carried over to
trucking companies and shipping containers. But there were other
potential applications as well, like trucking cars, untold highways. However, Sylvania didn't think
all this was necessary. They had just won out the huge
contract for the rail industry, and they didn't want to
shift their focus so quickly. Feeling that his creativity was being stifled,
Collins resigned from Sylvania in 1968. He founded the Computer Identics Corporation
with his colleague, Chris Kapsambelis, who had been instrumental to
the development of Kartrak. With their new company they were free
to explore all kinds of new technologies. They immediately
developed the first laser scanner, which would become a standard
for decades to come. In 1969, they secured a deal
with General Motors to implement the first automated
laser scanners for assembly lines, a revolution for manufacturing. That same year, they partnered
with the General Trading Company to develop the first scanners to
be used for package recognition. Meanwhile, barcodes were finally
starting to be developed more seriously for the grocery industry. RCA was testing a bullseye design
based on the old Silver/Woodland patent, and Kroger was happy to offer its
stores as the pioneering testing ground. Widespread use would
still be many years off, but the barcode industry
was slowly taking shape. The 1960s may have been hard on American
railroads, but the 70s were rock bottom. Regulations were a mess,
revenue was scarce, and a quarter of the
industry had gone bankrupt. With the railroads no longer able
to sustain passenger service, the federal government had to step in. They created Amtrak in 1971
to ensure Americans could always have some basic level of passenger service,
regardless of whether it was profitable. The freight business
wasn't doing much better, and in fact, it was heading
in a similar direction. Morale was low, and
budgets were even lower. By 1973, Kartrak had been a
standard in the industry for six years. The rollout had been slower than expected, but barcodes had been installed on
95% of railcars across the US. By the numbers, the system
had been a huge success. But this didn't tell the whole story, as the railroads were
experiencing a different reality. The barcodes were supposed
to withstand harsh climates, but snow, dirt, and other debris were damaging
the labels and making them unreadable. This wasn't entirely Kartrak's fault though,
as the railroads knew the barcodes needed
at least some maintenance. But given the dismal landscape
of the industry, they weren't exactly thrilled
to pay the upkeep costs. The companies were focused
on their financial survival, and every dollar had to be used wisely. Without this maintenance taking place, soon, one in five cars
weren't being scanned correctly. As the errors stacked up,
so did the automated print-outs. As the information became
less and less accurate, the office clerks started ignoring
the mountain of paperwork. It simply wasn't worth their time. One of the largest railroads,
Southern Pacific, decided to take matters
into its own hands. By 1975, their executives were convinced that Kartrak was no longer
valuable to their business, And they urged the ARR
to reverse their decision. Meanwhile, they instructed their employees to
stop any further maintenance of the barcodes. The AAR recognized these issues and decided to
continue the Kartrak standard for another two years, but it would no longer be required. Southern Pacific had a lot
of influence in the industry, and it didn't take long
for word to spread. Many railroads followed suit
and stopped maintaining their barcodes. Major players like Southern Pacific
and Missouri Pacific also began offering their own
computer-based scheduling systems. Not only were these more
advanced than Kartrak, they didn't rely on the
hassle of maintaining labels. Finally, in November of 1977, the ARR
officially voted to end the Kartrak standard. A full ten years had passed, and the optimism of
the late 60s now felt like a distant memory. The same group who had given
Kartrak such a bright future had now put the final nail in its coffin. When all was said and done, the industry spent
about $150 million on the Kartrak project. Sylvania had originally projected that more than
10,000 scanners would be installed across the country. But in the end, this only
amounted to about 400. While the system ultimately failed to catch on,
it proved to be influential in many ways. The experiment was the first of its kind, taking barcode technology outside of the lab
and putting it to work in the real world. It proved that optical scanners could be a successful
business, at least under the right conditions. Around the same time
that Kartrak was dying out, the grocery industry was finally hitting
the ground running with its own barcodes. George Laurer at IBM had developed
the Universal Product Code, or UPC, which was eventually selected
as the industry standard. The first UPC was ceremoniously
scanned on June 26, 1974, and it's been incredibly
successful ever since. David Collins is still active
in the business world today, and serves in a variety
of consulting roles. In 2011, he received
Congressional recognition as the father of the barcode industry. Thanks to his innovation and foresight, our global economy runs
more efficiently than ever. It's estimated that
well over 12 billion barcodes are scanned every day
across hundreds of industries. After the Kartrak debacle, the railroads
didn't look for a replacement for several years. The failing industry
was finally saved in 1980. The federal government stripped
away its outdated regulations, allowing business to start prospering again. In the late 80s, Burlington Northern
started testing radio frequency ID tags. This time, the tags contained
each car's information electronically. The system was connected
to a vast computer network, and it was more than 99% reliable. RFID tags became the new
industry standard in 1991, and they're still used to this day. Kartrak barcodes are a rare sight today, but they can still be found
if you look carefully. In the end, the system may have been the
victim of the industry it was meant to serve. But it's a humbling reminder
that our failures, even the big ones,
don't have to be the end of the story. Sometimes progress requires us to
make some mistakes along the way, because those can guide
us toward a better tomorrow.
Nice find. Quite interesting.