Every year, the World Science Fiction Society presents the Hugo Awards to honor the best science fiction and fantasy works of the year. This is the highest honor in the genre.
The award is named after Hugo Gernsback, the founder of Amazing Stories magazine. He is known as one of the "fathers of science fiction" for his promotion of the genre. However, Gernsback's interests extended beyond just science fiction novels; he was also a passionate experimenter and inventor. Before publishing Amazing Stories, he documented the rise and evolution of amateur radio technology and actively participated in it.
Although he is remembered for his role in science fiction history, Gernsback also pioneered an independent and important writing style that is lesser-known. He was a cataloger - a recorder, supplier, and supporter of emerging amateur technology scenes.
Cataloging is a specific type of writing that developed in conjunction with the technology community and played an active role in shaping the destiny of a given technology or toolkit. Catalogs themselves are transient and cyclical, rising and falling with the scenes they cover. But the skills and importance of cataloging are eternal. Gernsback pointed the way.
From his report card, it can be seen that Gernsback was an average student in subjects other than physics. He had a love for reading in his childhood, with H.G. Wells and Jules Verne being his favorite authors, and he dreamed of electrical projects. In 1904, at the age of 19, he immigrated to New York City and immediately began working, fueling his passion and expressing his design ideas, first in Scientific American magazine. In addition, he opened his own store in the Lower East Side - the Electro Importing Company, which imported and sold electrical equipment from Europe. This business created one of the earliest mail-order catalogs for radio technology nationwide. Most of the customers were fellow enthusiasts.
Catalogers are a consistent prototype. They are essentially writers, often without formal training - a role similar to that of a temporary journalist. They often operate small businesses, selling toolkits and equipment on-site, hence adopting the catalog format, but these enterprises rarely have good financial results. In addition to Gernsback, other notable examples include Stewart Brand's Whole Earth Catalog, Tim O'Reilly's O'Reilly Media technical books, and Dale Dougherty's Make: Magazine.
There are significant similarities among these examples. The content provided by catalogers is different from traditional news reporting or financial investment; they are agents. Through the combination of tools, information, and imagination, they help draw a map around new communities.
If you ask them to describe their work, you will get a vague answer. As Stewart Brand said, "I find things and found things."
If you ask them how they do it, you will get even more diverse answers. When I interviewed Dale Dougherty and Tim O'Reilly, I asked this question directly. O'Reilly said he keeps a mental map of what technologies should exist - it's a skill of "knowing it when you see it." Dougherty said he follows his passion. He told a story of meeting Tim Berners-Lee at the 1991 Hypertext conference. Berners-Lee was downgraded to a poster session instead of a main event because the organizers didn't find the web interesting enough. But Dougherty became interested in the project. Everything else at the conference was moving slowly and felt dull, but Berners-Lee offered something he could do himself - build a webpage. Dougherty became an advocate for the nascent web.
Whatever the skill, it seems to be widely transferable. Catalogers often play this role in multiple scenes throughout their careers. Brand is known for entering several fields based on his interests: the counterculture movement of the 1960s, the environmental movement, and the personal computer industry, among others. O'Reilly and Dougherty play significant roles in areas such as the internet, open-source software, and the maker movement. From a cataloging perspective, this diverse career path makes perfect sense. Their precise timing - appearing at critical moments in the history of technology - is self-reinforcing. They get involved when things become interesting, and things become more interesting when they get involved.
There is also a notable chain of influence. When we started OpenROV (our attempt to launch an amateur ocean technology scene), we emulated Chris Anderson, who documented the amateur drone scene through his website DIYDrones.com while he was the editor of Wired magazine. Dougherty spent most of his career at O'Reilly Media. A young Tim O'Reilly initially aimed to publish articles in Brand's CoEvolution Quarterly. Even though they can't define it, catalogers seem drawn to this work and most can place themselves in some informal lineage.
Aside from their connection to Gernsback, catalogers have a long history with science fiction. The first issue of Whole Earth Catalog recommended Dune, and Tim O'Reilly wrote a biography of Dune author Frank Herbert. The first issue of Byte magazine quoted Robert Heinlein, documenting the early development of the personal computer industry. The first issue of Make: Magazine featured articles by science fiction writers Bruce Sterling and Cory Doctorow. As Annalee Newitz put it, catalogers bridge the gap between the genre and the broader "science project," adding a touch of romance to turn a quiet and technical hobby into an exploration of shaping the future.
Seeking and interpreting new ideas.
In Kurt Vonnegut's novel Bluebeard, there is a passage where the protagonist, a painter named Rabo Karabekian, recalls valuable lessons he learned from World War II veteran Paul Slazinger:
Slazinger claimed that he had learned from history that most people couldn't open their minds to new ideas unless there was a special group of people who had a lot of strange members working on them. Otherwise, life would go on exactly as before, no matter how painful, unrealistic, unfair, ludicrous, or downright idiotic that life might be.
He said that this team had to consist of three kinds of specialists. Otherwise, the revolutions in politics, art, science, or whatever, would be doomed to failure.
The rarest of these specialists, he said, was an authentic genius - a person capable of having seemingly good ideas not generally circulated. "A lonely genius," he said, "is a stone nobody will ever throw."
The second sort of specialist is much easier to find: a highly intelligent citizen in good standing in his or her community, who understands and admires the genius's good ideas and who can work with the genius to implement them. "A person who can recognize a good idea when he or she sees one," he said, "is invaluable."
The third sort of specialist is a person who can explain everything, no matter how complicated, to the satisfaction of most people, no matter how stupid or pigheaded they may be. "He will say almost anything in order to be interesting and exciting," Slazinger said. "And if he happens to be a genius himself, he is the last person who will get in the way of a genuine genius or do anything to damage him. 'He is like a fireman, who may be called to put out a fire in a brothel. He is not likely to be tempted to start one.'"
Good catalogers are interpreters and discoverers of genius. They have the ability to bring new ideas to fruition. In a startup scene, recognition from a cataloger can propel a project or individual to fame. This encouragement can also instill a sense of pride and enable someone to take on greater challenges. Tim Berners-Lee recounted the early influence of Dougherty in his memoir Weaving the Web:
Dale Dougherty of O'Reilly Associates, who ran the first conference and a number of other meetings of early web creators, saw the third way. He had gathered a group of us together after one of the sessions and we were sitting around in a bar drinking beer out of tall glasses. Dale started to talk to each of us in turn, and essentially, he said that the SGML world was old and tired and that HTML was going to be much more powerful. He thought we didn't have to accept the whole SGML world, nor ignore it. Dale started to say, with a smile and calmness, "We can make it." He repeated the phrase "We can make it" like a mantra.
Catalogers are creators, not worshipers, of heroes. Their writing style is unique: engaging, inspiring, and boldly innovative. They represent those who are new and outsiders. When they mention famous figures - for example, Gernsback interviewing Thomas Edison - it is to add a sense of longing, not to idolize. Grant Wythoff wrote that Gernsback's mission was to "make the public participants in the making of things, rather than being overwhelmed by them."
Most catalogers share the same sentiment. Whether then or now, the target audience seems to be those who want new tools or more support for their own adventures in home experimentation. The stories they shape are always unfinished, ending with an ellipsis, guiding readers to write their own names into the story: "What happens next is up to you..."
The evolving format
The right way to document emerging scenes seems to evolve over time, often using periodic publication formats and heavily relying on reader-contributed stories, ideas, and contributions. Therefore, while there are only a few books about amateur technology scenes, these magazines, catalogs, and online forums are scattered with fascinating articles.
Like everything else, cataloging has moved to online platforms. What used to be in magazines is now a forum or Discord server to attract community participation. Chris Anderson wrote that allowing DIYDrones to evolve freely in the direction determined by users was an important decision:
This distinction - a site created by a community rather than a news and information site created by an individual, as with a blog - ultimately proved its importance. Like all good social networks, every participant (not just the creators) has access to the full suite of writing tools. In addition to the usual comments, they can write their own blog posts, start discussions, upload videos and images, create personal profile pages, and send messages. Community members can be appointed as moderators, encouraging good behavior and preventing malicious behavior. The site is open to anyone who chooses to participate, and it quickly fills with ideas, as well as sharing projects and research reports.
While the site is open to everyone, Anderson played an important curatorial role in managing it. He was the most frequent contributor, pointing out new efforts and directions of development. He always encouraged the community to consider the larger context in which they adjusted their behavior. Like Gernsback, Anderson often injected imaginative new ideas into the community by highlighting absurd new projects (such as TacoCopter) or interpreting the futuristic drone visions of Daniel Suarez (such as Kill Decision).
However, while digital platforms make cataloging infrastructure more accessible, the number of truly novel and exciting scenes seems to remain stable. Or worse: as David Chapman argues in his essay "Geeks, MOPs, and Sociopaths," subcultures have largely ceased to function as engines of cultural creativity. How can this be?
There are several possible explanations. One possibility is the venture capitalization of amateur scenes. As venture capitalists have recognized the pattern of new companies emerging from these scenes, they dispatch their scouts earlier than ever - funding any project with potential. Premature praise disrupts the dynamics of the scene. It forces players to seek big customers instead of fighting for each other.
Another explanation is that cataloging has not been seen as a distinct and praiseworthy skill. This anonymity has prevented it from being recognized and developed. If that's the case, the solution is easy - just give it a name. We have celebrated these people, but giving them a common title may encourage more people to try.
Good cataloging is a special success. It cannot be measured by financial metrics or the accolades received by famous scientists. But catalogers are respected, and that respect is enduring. They become "heroes' heroes," as journalist Carole Cadwalladr said of Brand. Gernsback didn't win awards; he became the award.
Catalogers know something important that the hype of most startups obscures: the purest joy in the tech world is not about securing massive funding or achieving high accolades. It comes from curiosity and the camaraderie that develops in amateur tech scenes - a blend of possibility, individual agency, and shared passion.
It seems that every generation needs someone to dig up the old cataloger's handbook, rediscover it, and retell this timeless story.