I had a stint as a college sports paper publisher – we had stencils cutting into a paper which would let ink bleed through the cuts. The stencil paper needed to be typed onto with a very heavy hand on the typewriter, so that the impression of the letter cut through the paper.
Even the artist who did the cartoons had to literally rip the paper with the outlines of his drawing.
This was 1996, Mysore, India.
The editor of the paper was a rebel, and named the paper The Tooth Ballers. Our Prinicipal either didn’t get it or he chose to look aside. I was a good girl, so I pretended not to understand the allusion, and all I would do was correct the grammatical errors of the boys who watched and reported on the sporting events.
I did a lot of the printing work, though, and I think the modern printers, they take a lot of fun out of making copies of things. Our copies, they weren’t all the same. There were good ones and inky ones.