EACH week as TIME'S press run begins in Chicago, one of the first copies off the press is sealed in an envelope marked "Not for Release" and rushed special delivery to nearby Glencoe, Ill. By Tuesday noon, a day before TIME appears on most newsstands, Mrs. Gerald F. Miner, a 52-year-old grandmother, has begun leafing through her copy. Then a second and more specialized TIME press run begins. The sound, instead of the roar of rotary presses, is the soft plunk of a six-key braille typewriter. Mrs. Miner is laboriously pecking out TIME'S cover...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
