[Samba] accessing outlook pst files w/ samba

[Stephen Kuhn]

On Thu, 2003-02-20 at 16:18, Gregory Hosler wrote:
> Hi,
> 
> I'm in the process of trying to convince my organization to move from an
> exchange server, to a samba solution, while retaining their original windows
> environments, including Outlook clients.
> 
> I thought I had all my issues covered, and suddenly I'm facing a show stopper.
> 
> it turns out that a lot of my users "documentation" has been stored on "public
> folders" on the former exchange server, in "pst" format.
> 
> The clients are all Outlook clients.
> 
> I did some investigation on pst files on a samba share.
> 
> If I move the "pst" files to a linux smb share, then the pst file can be
> accessed *BUT* only by one user at a time. I am told that in the windows
> exchange environment, multiple users could open up a pst folder on the exchange
> server simultaneously. (never having been an outlook user, I'm unfamiliar w/
> this particular aspect of windows).
> 
> from a bit googling, it seems that "pst" files are essentially "mailbox
> databases", which can include things in addition to mails.
> 
> I have also seen some solutions (for a full client conversion from windows),
> that involved creation of an imap folder, and then dragging the pst to the imap
> folder, letting windows convert from one folder to the other, but the issue I'm
> facing here is that it will still be the case that more than one user will want
> to access these folder(s) concurrently. I guess (not sure, haven't tried) I can
> share an imap mailbox with more than one concurrent user, but is this really
> the best solution ? (note that the client will remain as a windows outlook
> client!)
> 
> I rather suspect that this issue has likely come up before, but as I say, I've
> never user outlook before, and am totally unfamiliar w/ an exchange server, so
> I'm kind of in the dark about what it is that I'm looking for.
> 
> I'll be quite grateful for any tips/hints, pointers, urls, even into the
> archives (I've d/l'ed the samba archives, but it is huge, and I don't really
> know what it is I am looking for :(
> 
> thanks in advance, and best regards,
> 
> -Greg Hosler
> 
> ----------------------------------
> E-Mail: Gregory Hosler <gregory.hosler at accessgate.com.sg>
> Date: 20-Feb-03
> Time: 13:07:10
> 
>   If each of us have one object, and we exchange them,
>      then each of us still has one object.
>   If each of us have one idea,   and we exchange them,
>      then each of us now has two ideas.
> 
> ----------------------------------

I just did something similar to this - but ended up exporting the data
from PST files to the Samba Server as it was running IMAP as a server
service - it was long and drawn out, but after getting all the crap from
heaps of different PST's copied up there, it works like a charm - minus
having to have MS Exchange around - all the users connect to a "public"
account and can view/change/move/add stuff as they wish - although in a
limited tree fashion as you can't add subdirectories under folders - but
that's alright. Much easier to clean with an antivirus package as well.

-- 
Thu, 20 Feb 2003 16:45:01 +1100
  4:45pm  up 1 day,  5:28,  5 users,  load average: 0.46, 0.27, 0.20
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	On this morning in August when I was 13, my mother sent us out pick
tomatoes.  Back in April I'd have killed for a fresh tomato, but in August
they are no more rare or wonderful than rocks.  So I picked up one and threw
it at a crab apple tree, where it made a good *splat*, and then threw a tomato
at my brother.  He whipped one back at me.  We ducked down by the vines,
heaving tomatoes at each other.  My sister, who was a good person, said,
"You're going to get it."  She bent over and kept on picking.
	What a target!  She was 17, a girl with big hips, and bending over,
she looked like the side of a barn.
	I picked up a tomato so big it sat on the ground.  It looked like it
had sat there a week.  The underside was brown, small white worms lived in it,
and it was very juicy.  I stood up and took aim, and went into the windup,
when my mother at the kitchen window called my name in a sharp voice.  I had
to decide quickly.  I decided.
	A rotten Big Boy hitting the target is a memorable sound, like a fat
man doing a belly-flop.  With a whoop and a yell the tomatoee came after
faster than I knew she could run, and grabbed my shirt and was about to brain
me when Mother called her name in a sharp voice.  And my sister, who was a
good person, obeyed and let go -- and burst into tears.  I guess she knew that
the pleasure of obedience is pretty thin compared with the pleasure of hearing
a rotten tomato hit someone in the rear end.
		-- Garrison Keillor, "Lake Wobegon Days"