The words A CHORUS LINE had neon light all around it. The message sign ran on 25,400 watts. We used to update the message sign weekly, with cast changes, whatever they wanted to advertise on the sign. This was an old type of machine, a Motorgraph, that used to have a tape; it looked like a band with a lot of perforated holes. You would type in the message, tape the band, put it together, bring it out to the job site and actually install it in the machine, something like a typewriter ribbon. After a while the machinery became obsolete. The message unit was one of a kind; it was one of the industry's first back then. The running light was on all day until the theatre closed at night. A house electrician monitored it for failure, or broken tape, which was only like heavy paper. We housed two or three spares inside the room right behind the sign at the theatre. We upgraded the system in 1984 or 1985 and changed the components to send messages out by phone modem. Then it all became computerized, state of the art. We put in different controllers, and got rid of that old tape machine - we couldn't get parts for it. - Jim Manfredi [Artkraft Strauss Signs] from the book THE LONGEST LINE, BROADWAY'S MOST SINGULAR SENSATION: A CHORUS LINE by Gary Stevens and Alan George
