Seventy years ago, television was finally becoming a reality. The war was over, stations were coming on the air, and the enlightened radio dealer was getting ready to move into television. Crosley, the pioneer in radio manufacturing and broadcasting, had also made the move to television. The Crosley Spectator is shown here, from the August 1947 issue of Radio & Appliance Journal.
The set boasted an image size of 6-3/8″ by 8-1/2″, had 27 tubes and three rectifiers, and tuned all 13 channels, 44-216 MHz, including the elusive channel 1, which was never put to use.
Those 27 tubes consumed 380 watts, and the set weighed in at 85 pounds.
The ad assured the dealer that the Spectator in the shop window as its own salesman, and each set sold would become the talk of the neighborhood and draw in even more business.
You can see a nicely restored example of this set in operation at this video:
Sixty years ago, solar activity was at an all-time high, and the sun was plastered with sunspots. This was good news for hams, who depend on this solar activity for ideal radio communications on the high frequency bands. But in addition to being literal dark spots, this was, figuratively a dark time for the hapless TV repairman in fringe areas, because it fell upon him to explain to his customers that their interference woes weren’t his fault, but were instead caused by blotches on the sun.
Fortunately, the TV repairman got some sympathetic advice from this article in the August 1957 issue of Radio Electronics.
It starts by noting that Sunspot Cycle 19 was about to reach a peak, which was good news for hams and shortwave listeners, for whom shortwave propagation would be better than at any other time in history.
But the average TV owner “probably does not care about receiving Havana, Cuba, or some other distant TV station over his favorite local channel,” which was a distinct possibility in fringe areas. The article noted that this would be particularly an issue for channels 2, 3, and 4.
The article counseled the serviceman on how to deal with these calls. And unfortunately, there was little that could be done, other than to “explain to the owner what is happeninng and that the condition will probably pass in a short while. Ask him to call the next day if the trouble is still there.”
The article suggested that a good way to educate the customer would be to draw a sketch of the earth and ionosphere as shown above. While reorienting the antenna might help in some cases, the best advice was to hope that the owner understood what was happening. If the customer understood, it would make him “less likely to call a service technician and thereby leave the technician more time to devote to true television troubles.”
Shown here on the cover of the June 1957 issue of Radio Electronics is a demonstration of an underwater TV camera, namely a special version of the Hancock Vicon IV made by HEC Corp., Redwood City, California. The camera was housed in a stainless steel cylinder with a small window on one end.
The camera itself was billed as extremely sensitive and not requiring additional lighting in most situations. The entrie camera weighed 95 pounds on land, but dropped to 12 pounds in the water. It came with a 500 foot cable, and could either be maneuvered by a diver or lowered by crane.
One valuable application was said to be in offshore oil drilling, or for inspections of canals, dams, irrigation canals, and ship hulls.
The original customer was the Department of the Interior, Fish and Wild Life Service, for underwater exploration of marine life. The Navy’s bureau of ships had also placed an order for hull inspection and salvage operations.
The camera, compatible with U.S. broadcast standards, came with a 500 foot cable leading to the associated controls and monitoring equipment.
This cover illustration from the June 1927 issue of Radio News is more or less self-explanatory. But unfortunately, there’s little in the way of explanation given in the magazine, and I’m not aware of this form of video recording ever having been done in practice.
The early mechanical television signals were indeed, sent over the audio channel of AM broadcast stations, so it’s not far fetched to think that the audio could be recorded on a phonograph disk. I think the main problem would be the frequency response of the disk recording. As far as I know, the upper frequency limit for 78 RPM records, especially during that era, was around 5 kHz. I doubt if much video could be packed into 5 kHz bandwidth.
The magazine mentions, with no technical detail, only that John L. Baird was then working on the system, which he called “Phonoscope.”
You might recall the 1961 Twilight Zone episode “Long Distance Call.” If you don’t recall, five-year-old Billy received a toy telephone from his grandmother, who then promptly died. After her death, Billy continued to receive “pretend” phone calls from her, in which she encouraged him to join her in the hereafter. Finally, the father stepped in, picked up the toy phone, and told Grandma, in no uncertain terms, to knock it off.
We offer a possible explanation from just
Youngster listening to 1947 toy phone, presumably tuned to strong local station.
fourteen years earlier, in the June 1947 issue of Popular Mechanics. That article showed how to convert a toy telephone, which looked just like Billy’s, into a crystal set.
According to the article, Daddy really made a hit with his youngster by doing the conversion, and the youngster was, indeed, able to hear voices through the toy telephone, in the form of a pre-tuned local radio station.
The conversion entailed use of a 1N34 diode, and tuning was accomplished by a premeability-tuned coil. Dad presumably preset the tuning to the strong local station, although I suppose it’s possible that he accidentally tuned it to the hereafter. The earphone that the author was able to find was a war surplus low impedance unit, necessitating the addition of an audio output transformer.
Billy’s telephone just 14 years later. Coincidence?
If you’re like me, you probably assumed that the hymn How Great Thou Art has always been a part of the American religious music scene. However, it is actually relatively new, being first popularized only sixty years ago, in 1957. It was performed for the first time by George Beverly Shea at Billy Graham‘s Madison Square Garden Crusade, which began on this night 60 years ago, May 15, 1957. The crusade lasted until September 1, and during its run, more than two million persons attended to hear Graham preach and Shea sing. Over 56,000 reportedly responded to the message by making a decision for Christ.
In the video below, Cliff Barrows describes it in his introduction as “a new hymn to American audiences.” The hymn was not exactly new when Shea brought it to American audiences. The tune was a traditional Swedish melody. The Swedish lyrics, “O Store Gud” were penned in 1885 by Carl Boberg, who was inspired while walking home from church listening to church bells. A sudden storm was followed by a similarly sudden calm. According to Boberg, the words were a paraphrase of Psalm 8:
Lord, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
in the heavens.
The first translation of the hymn was into Russian in 1912, “Velikiy Bog” (Великий Бог – Great God) by Ivan S. Prokhanov. It was published in a Russian Protestant hymnal in 1927.
The first English translation came in 1925 by E. Gustav Johnson, who made a literal translation of the Swedish lyrics published in the Covenant Hymnal as “O Mighty God.” Those words remained as late as the 1973 edition:
O mighty God, when I behold the wonder
Of nature’s beauty, wrought by words of thine,
And how thou leadest all from realms up yonder,
Sustaining earthly life with love benign,
With rapture filled, my soul thy name would laud,
O mighty God! O mighty God!
Credit for the now familiar English lyrics goes largely to British Methodist missionary Stuart Wesley Keene Hine, who heard the hymn sung in Ukraine in 1931. He did a paraphrase of the Russian translation, which includes most of the familiar lyrics, as well as the title, “How Great Thou Art.”
Hine finalized the lyrics in 1949, and he performed it for the first time at a convention in New York in 1951. It was first published in 1956, in the collection “Eastern Melodies & Hymns of Other Lands.”
The hymn soared in popularity after Shea’s 1957 performances at the Madison Square Garden Crusade. It’s unclear whether the hymn was performed on the first night of the crusade 60 years ago tonight, but it was performed at most of the services.
Eighty years ago this month, the May 1937 issue of Radio News carried an ambitious construction project, this television receiver. TV receivers had been popular projects in earlier radio magazines, but the earlier ones were all mechanical televisions, employing a spinning Nipkow disk.
This set was all electronic, employing a cathode ray tube. The construction article did not have an individual byline. Instead, it was attributed only to “the Don Lee Television Staff,” referring to the Los Angeles broadcaster and licensee of W6XAO.
W6XAO image taken off the air.
The plans for this set were also included in other magazines, and the broadcaster also made it available in kit form.
While the receiver was all electronic, it appears that the camera was still a mechanical device. A spinning disk was used to produce a flying spot to convert previously filmed footage to a video signal. Shortly thereafter, the station appears to have adopted an electronic camera.
The set, including both RF and video sections, contained a total of 14 tubes in addition to the CRT. It did not contain an audio section. Presumably, accompanying audio was received on a separate radio receiver.
85 years ago this month, the televisionist shown on the cover of the March-April 1932 issue of Television News is working on a rather ambitious project. He’s graduated from the tiny peep-hole sets to a larger set capable of displaying an image of 10-12 inches.
The secret to this ambitious design is the fact that it incorporates 60 matched lenses in the spinning disk itself, rather than merely relying on small holes cut into the disk.
This RCA ad from the April 1947 issue of Televiser shows how film was broadcast in the early days of postwar televsision. The prewar stations generally had no way to broadcast prerecorded programming. The ability to use film meant that the television production business was a bit less frenzied, without the need to have some live action going on every moment the station was on the air. Film was still a lot more expensive than the later alternative, video tape, but the ability to use film meant that news and entertainment could be shown on a delayed basis. And since there was no live distribution between most cities, the ability to use film also mean that programs could be shipped to other stations, albeit on a delayed basis.
The RCA TP-16A Television Projector, shown at the left, was a self-contained unit which converted film to video. The unit at the right was a two-piece unit, with the film projector at left and video camera at right. The advantage of the dual unit was that it could be used with two film projectors, a mirror being used to switch from one to the other on the fly.
16mm film was already an established format, but there was one problem that had to be overcome. The 16mm format used 24 frames per second, while the video was 60 frames per second. Synchronization was accomplished according to the diagram at the lower right corner of the ad.
The film fed normally at 24 frames per second. During the first frame, the film was illuminated twice, at 1/60 second intervals, and the frame was scanned twice. The net effect was that half of the film frames were scanned three times, and the others scanned two times, for an average of 2-1/2 video frames per film frame. This resulted in the 24 frame per second film being scanned 60 times per second.
The 1000 watt incandescent bulb lit only about 1/1200 second. The video camera had enough inherent memory that it could complete the scan even though it was unlighted.
Sixty years ago, spring had come to Switzerland. The last two weeks of March are traditionally the spaghetti harvest. The 1957 harvest was notable due to the eradication of the dreaded spaghetti weevil, which had devastating effects on prior crops.
Switzerland’s spaghetti production is, of course, on a much smaller scale than the large Italian plantations. The harvest of the uniformly sized spaghetti is more of a family affair in Switzerland.
You can see more in this video, which aired sixty years ago today on the BBC on April 1, 1957.