The October 2022 issue of IEEE Spectrum is here!

Close bar

Upcyling a 40-year-old Tandy Model 100 Portable Computer

It’s easy once you figure out how to talk to its weird display

5 min read
An exploded diagram of a Tandy M100 notebook computer featuring a top assembly, a wide but short LCD screen, a keyboard with mechanical keys and a bottom assembly. An Arduino Mega microcontroller sits on the bottom assembly.

Tossing out the original motherboard leaves room to fit modern components in the bottom half of the M100’s case.

James Provost

Last year I picked up a Tandy Model 100 at the Vintage Computer Festival East for about US $90. Originally released in 1983, it was the forerunner of today’s notebook computers, featuring a good-quality keyboard and LCD display. It could run for 20 hours on four AA batteries and a month on standby.

Thanks to the work of the Club 100 user group, I was able to tap into a universe of software written for the Model 100 (also known as the M100). Unfortunately, my machine stopped working. I was able to identify the faulty component, and rather than attempt to find a new replacement, I bought a cheap, broken M100 that was being sold for parts on eBay. I extracted the component I needed from its motherboard and repaired my original M100. Then I looked at the now-even-more-broken second M100, still with its lovely keyboard and screen, and thought, “Surely there’s something I can do with this.” How hard could it be to swap out a 40-year-old 8-bit 8085 CPU and motherboard for something more modern?

I’m not the first person to have thought of this, of course. A number of folks have upcycled the M100, but they typically replace the 240-by-64-pixel monochrome display with something with color and much higher resolution, or they keep the original LCD but use it as a text-only display. I wanted to keep the original display, because I like its big, chunky pixels and low power needs, but I also wanted the ability to support graphics and different fonts, as with the original M100. If I could do that, I could use any number of replacement CPUs, thanks to software like CircuitPython’s displayio libraries. But I soon discovered the challenge was in the M100’s deeply weird—by today’s standards—LCD.

The M100’s LCD is really 10 separate displays, each controlled by its own HD44102 driver chip. The driver chips are each responsible for a 50-by-32-pixel region of the screen, except for two chips at the right-hand side that control only 40 by 32 pixels. This provides a total screen resolution of 240 by 64 pixels. Within each region the pixels are divided into four rows, or banks, each eight pixels high. Each vertical column of eight pixels corresponds to one byte in a driver’s local memory.

A Tandy M100 notebook computer is shown with its wide LCD display above a mechanical keyboard, along with a PCB and Arduino Mega.Vintage Tandy M100 computers [left] can be bought for parts for less than US $100. A interface shield along with a resistor and capacitor [right, top] can plug into an Arduino Mega microcontroller and allow you to repurpose the screen and keyboard.James Provost

To set an arbitrary pixel, you determine the screen region it’s in, enable the corresponding driver chip, tell the chip you are sending a command, send the command to select a bank and column, tell the chip you’re now sending pixel data, and then write a data byte that sets eight pixels at once, including the one you want and seven others that come along for the ride.

The reason for this arrangement is that it speeds things up considerably when displaying text. If you have a seven-pixel-high font, plus one pixel of blank space at the bottom, you can copy the font’s bitmap straight from memory byte by byte. Sequential bytes can often be sent without additional commands because the chip automatically advances the column index after receiving a data byte. The order of the banks as displayed can also be altered for fast scrolling.

This bank/column addressing scheme is still used, for example, in some modern OLED displays, but their banks span the entire display—that is, one chip per screen. I would have to manage each region and driver myself.

Cross a wire by accident? No problem, just fix it and try again.

Some things made it easier. First, the M100 was designed to be serviced. The screen drivers sit on a board that interfaces with the motherboard via a 15-by-2-pin connector that can be simply pulled free. The keyboard uses a straightforward 10-by-10 matrix, and also connects via easily detachable connectors. There is a fantastic service manual that gives the details of every single circuit. With the service manual, the HD44102’s datasheet, and some helpful online tips from other folks who’d played with the LCD, I was able to build an interface between the display and an Arduino Mega 2560. And the fact that older machines are often more tolerant of abuse also helped—none of this “give me even a half a volt over 3.3 volts and I’ll let all the magic smoke out” business. Cross a wire by accident? No problem, just fix it and try again. Feed in a raw pulse-width-modulated (PWM) signal instead of a constant analog one? Fine, I’ll just sit here and flicker a bit.

The interface provides the -5 V the LCD needs in addition to +5 V. The interface also hosts a RC low-pass filter to smooth the PWM signal that simulates the 0-to-4 V output of a potentiometer used to adjust the viewing angle. The other pins are passed through to the Mega’s digital input/output or power lines.

The LCD screen is divided into ten rectangular regions by dotted lines. 10 driver chips, all connected to a shared data bus, surround the screen. Separate select lines come out from each chip, marked CS0 through CS9, join the data bus and other control and power lines, marked +5V, -5V, GND, 0-4V, CLK, R/W, D/A Chip Select All, on the left hand side.Ten driver chips each control a region of the screen, and must be selected as required by one of 10 chip select lines. Then a bank and column within that row is selected to receive a byte of bitmapped data, setting eight pixels at once.James Provost

I wrote some code to store a 240-by-64-pixel framebuffer and to handle the mapping of its pixels to their corresponding screen regions. The software selects the appropriate chip, bank, and column, sends the data, and manages the various clock and other control signals. The Mega appears to the outside world as the driver of a modern monochrome display, accepting bitmap data as rows (or columns) of pixels that span the screen—exactly the kind of thing that the displayio library can handle.

The LCD can now be hooked up to the microcontroller of my choice via a parallel or serial connection to the Mega, which copies incoming data to the framebuffer; I intend to use a Teensy 4.1, which will allow me to talk to the matrix keyboard directly, have enough compute power for some basic text-editing firmware, and provide a VT100 terminal serial interface—which could be to a Raspberry Pi 4 compute module also mounted inside the M100. That would provide Wi-Fi, a 64-bit OS, and up to 8 gigabytes of RAM—a big step up from the 8 to 24 kilobytes that the case originally housed!

This article appears in the October 2022 print issue as “Upcycling a Tandy Model 100.”

The Conversation (3)
Josh Stark26 Sep, 2022

Just yes I have been waiting on someone to do this. I have two and neither work

Barry Levine25 Sep, 2022

Had one of these laying around my office when my boss asked me to set up a "shipping address label" machine that would be a standalone workstation. I used its Basic to craft a fill-in-the-blanks app and plugged in a dot matrix printer. Worked perfectly for years. When I left the company, I took the machine (by then no longer is use). Ended up giving it to a friend who had a soft-of computer museum in his house. Probably still on display.

Enjoyed the story. Funny that a Raspberry Pi would kick the cr-p out of this old beast.

Andy Geppert24 Sep, 2022

This is awesome work! I look forward to seeing this running at VCF East 2023!

From WinZips to Cat GIFs, Jacob Ziv’s Algorithms Have Powered Decades of Compression

The lossless-compression pioneer received the 2021 IEEE Medal of Honor

11 min read
Photo of Jacob Ziv
Photo: Rami Shlush

Lossless data compression seems a bit like a magic trick. Its cousin, lossy compression, is easier to comprehend. Lossy algorithms are used to get music into the popular MP3 format and turn a digital image into a standard JPEG file. They do this by selectively removing bits, taking what scientists know about the way we see and hear to determine which bits we'd least miss. But no one can make the case that the resulting file is a perfect replica of the original.

Not so with lossless data compression. Bits do disappear, making the data file dramatically smaller and thus easier to store and transmit. The important difference is that the bits reappear on command. It's as if the bits are rabbits in a magician's act, disappearing and then reappearing from inside a hat at the wave of a wand.

Keep Reading ↓Show less