48 years ago today, a man in Massachusetts sent 400 emails at lunchtime and accidentally launched the most hated thing on the internet.
His name was Gary Thuerk. Marketing guy at Digital Equipment Corporation, which at the time, was the second-biggest computer company in the world.
DEC had just launched a new line of mainframes, but Gary had a problem: his buyers were mostly on the West Coast. Researchers, engineers, and government lab employees.
You know the type.
The ones who'd let the phone ring forever, throw trade show invitations directly in the trash, and who enjoy being 'unreachable' as a general personality trait.
But here's the thing: a lot of them happened to be on a tiny government network called ARPANET. About 2,600 users. An early internet group chat for people with security clearances.
In 1978, Gary had a thought nobody had tried before:
what if I just… emailed all of them?
He handed his colleague Carl Gartley a printed directory with names highlighted. No copy-paste. No mail merge. No distribution lists.
Carl had to hand-type roughly 400 unique email addresses, one at a time. Like a medieval monk transcribing the Bible if the Bible were a sales pitch for a DECSYSTEM-20.
I get road rage when I have to type my email after autofill fails. I cannot fathom Carl's morning.
May 3, 1978. 12:33 PM. Sent.
The email program couldn't fit all the addresses in the header, so they spilled into the body. Bunches of usernames piling up before the actual song and dance. It was a hot mess.
And the pitch? IT WAS IN ALL CAPS. Not for emphasis, but because that's just how terminals worked.
The demo invitation was for a place called DUNFEY'S ROYAL COACH. Which, for the record, sounds less like a venue where you'd buy a computer and more like somewhere you'd get knighted or possibly tetanus.
The first promo email in human history screamed in all caps to meet at a fake-castle hotel in San Mateo.
We never stood a chance.
The backlash was swift and furious. One memorable complaint came from an Army major, Raymond Czahor, who called DEC personally to yell at them. A University of Utah user even claimed it crashed their system.
Gary had to scout's-honor promise he'd never do it again.
But... he sold roughly a dozen computers from that one email. Around $13 million in sales (roughly $60 million in today's money).
From one morning of Carl typing.
However, The word 'spam' did not exist for this phenomenon yet. Wouldn't for another fifteen years.
It finally arrived in 1993, courtesy of a guy named Richard Depew who was trying to fight the thing that wasn't yet known as spam.
He built a tool to clean up Usenet, an old-school discussion forum. But it had a bug that caused the tool to reply to itself repeatedly. Within minutes, it had posted 200 times to a single newsgroup.
So somebody made a Monty Python joke about Vikings chanting spam, spam, spam, and the name stuck.
Depew himself apologized for having 'done a spam.'
The man trying to get rid of spam instead created spam in the process, and then had to immortalize it on the way down.
Then, in 1994, two immigration lawyers (married to each other) paid a programmer to write a script that posted 'Green Card Lottery - Final One?' to 5,500 newsgroups. That's like cross-posting on Reddit to every subreddit at once.
Mail servers crashed. They received death threats.
But... they made $100,000 . Naturally, the next step was to write a book teaching others how to do it.
They decided to double down and start a spam-for-hire company. Then they got divorced. Then one got disbarred.
So in sum:
A marketing guy created spam in an effort to sell computers to recluses, a moderator inadvertently performed the baptism after attempting to slay it, and two married lawyers saw the same gold mine everyone else was politely ignoring.
Gary is in his late 70s now. Lives in the Grand Canyon state. Judges high school robotics competitions. He'd like the record to show he prefers the title Father of e-Marketing.
And Carl, who never asked for any of this in the first place, is probably out there still recovering from typing 400 addresses by hand.