Category Archives: Radio history

1941 ASCAP Boycott

1940AscapBoycottAd

Seventy-five years ago, American broadcasters were gearing up for some big changes in 1941. The engineers were busy ordering crystals and getting ready to retune their transmitters on March 29, 1941, to the new frequencies mandated by NARBA.

But the program director had even bigger things to worry about, because of the ASCAP Boycott, which was to start on January 1, 1941, and would last until October 29, 1941.

The American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP) was formed in 1914 to enforce the 1897 copyright law. In the days of live performances, this had been easy, since the royalties were just based on a percentage of the box office sales. But the phonograph, and later radio, complicated things considerably. But after almost a decade of haggling, a tenuous truce was in place between ASCAP and the broadcasters. The stations grudgingly agreed to pay 5% of advertising revenue in exchange for a blanket license to perform all ASCAP music. But the truce didn’t last long, and in 1940, worried that radio performances were cutting in to phonograph sales, ASCAP announced that it was going to triple the broadcast fee. The broadcasters decided that enough was enough, and at the National Association of Broadcasters (NAB) convention, the broadcasters decided that they would boycott ASCAP. Therefore, as of January 1, 1941, most of the stations’ existing music libraries could not be used. This included both recorded music and the sheet music used in the still common live performances by orchestras and studio pianists and organists.

Virtually every part of a station’s programming was affected. Even most program theme songs were controlled by ASCAP and had to be changed. Jack Benny had to stop playing his signature “Love in Bloom” on the violin, and Burns and Allen had to stop using their theme “Love Nest,” written by ASCAP co-founder George M. Cohan.

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Jeanie in 1854, before her hair turned gray. Wikipedia image.

The stations had two alternatives, and had to act fast. First, they could make use of public domain material. This is why the Lone Ranger rode to the tune of the public domain William Tell Overture, and the Green Hornet flew to the music of The Flight of the Bumblebee. One notable beneficiary on stations’ play list was “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair,” penned by Stephen Foster in 1854. Time magazine quipped that the song had received so much airplay that Jeanie’s hair turned gray.

Stations also turned to foreign music such as “Perfidia.” And since ASCAP had generally believed that “hillbilly” and African-American music were beneath their dignity, these genres quickly found a home on the American airwaves.

In order to get radio airtime, performers had to make the same choices. It’s no coincidence that Glenn Miller’s orchestra made 1941 hits with “American Patrol” and “Song of the Volga Boatmen,” both in the public domain.

For new music, broadcasters turned to the fledgling Broadcast Music International (BMI), a rival licensing agency founded by the broadcast industry in 1939. BMI recruited composers whose ASCAP contracts were about to expire as well as new composers, and made these available to broadcasters on more favorable terms.

A substantial portion of the December 15, 1940, issue of Broadcasting magazine was devoted to helping broadcasters gear up for the boycott.  For example, the ad at the top of this page Standard Radio touted, during the “music emergency,” its music library of 2046 non-ASCAP taxfree selections including performances by artists such as Duke Ellington and Ray Herbeck, with the promise of 100 new releases per month.

An editorial in the same issued called it a war, not unlike the war raging in Europe:  “Zero hour approaches in the war over music.  War is hell in any language, and there are hellish days ahead for the adversaries in the conflict precipitated by a hitherto arrogant, brass-knuckled ASCAP that now must know it overplayed its hand.  The rank and file broadcaster is not thinking about an ASCAP deal.  Like the Italians, ASCAP attacked with untenable demands.  And like the Greeks, the broadcasters are on the march.”

And in this war, the broadcasters knew that ASCAP would be ruthless.  Every broadcaster knew that the ASCAP lawyers would retaliate heavily for even the most innocent minor violation.  The broadcasters had to ensure that not one note of an ASCAP-licensed competition could go out over the airwaves.

The magazine carried the advice sent out by CBS to its affiliates about the steps that needed to be taken to avoid even an accidental infringement of any ASCAP music. It stressed that the program producer or director had to personally inspect “all music on the conductor’s stand against his certified music sheet. No other music may be broadcast.” It stressed that it was particularly important to be careful with remote broadcasts. And for protection in case of later accusations, it was especially critical to keep a meticulous log of all music broadcast.

And dead air was better than an ASCAP lawsuit, so “the program producer must have the right to pull the plug on the slightest deviation from a certified music schedule.”

Ad libs and improvisations were not to be allowed. “If it isn’t on paper and certified, it is not be be broadcast.” And stations couldn’t forget that last-minute substitutions of talent might be required. “All staff artists, organists, and pianists, who might be required to fill in, must clear a sufficient number of work sheets to meet such needs.” Organists on dramatic shows would need to immediately submit a folio of cue music sufficient for their needs and be reminded that no other music could be played unless it had been cleared.

Even at non-musical remotes, the stations would have to be careful. If a station knew that music might be played in the background at a baseball game or political rally, it was not to be picked up. Since most band music was controlled by ASCAP, “the chances are we will have to forego those portions of a special event during which the band is playing, unless you can build and work from a soundproof booth.”

All recordings would have to be checked, and the ASCAP material be put away for the duration of the emergency. If a record had an ASCAP song on one side and a non-ASCAP song on the other, then tape would need be placed over the infringing side to keep it from being accidentally played. Even the emergency records kept at the transmitter site would need to be checked. A failure of the studio to transmitter link could not be allowed to serve as a reason for the ASCAP lawyers to swoop in.

1940MarksThe magazine also contained some good news.  There were already 3400 records licensed by BMI would could be safely played.  The magazine also announced the signing of a contract between BMI and the Edward B. Marks Music Corp., shown here, transferring that publisher’s catalog of over 15,000 songs to BMI.  This freed up such compositions as “Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight” and “Ta Ra Ra Boom Der Ay” for broadcast.  Benny Goodman’s theme song, “Let’s Dance” was among those included in the Marks deal.

References

Read More at Amazon

The following songs in this post are available at Amazon where you can listen to a free sample or download the MP3:

 

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Vivienne Segal, 1935

1935VivienneSegal

80 years ago, the cover of this day’s issue of Radio Guide, December 14, 1935, featured actress, singer, and radio personality Vivienne Segal.  The magazine noted that she had until that week been featured on the “American Album of Familiar Music” and “Waltz Time” programs, and that she expected to begin a new series of broadcasts shortly.

The magazine noted that she had been awarded an honorary professorship of music at the New York School of Music, in recognition of her encouragement of talented young singers, including endowing scholarships and awarding trophies in amateur competitions.

Ms. Segal was born in Philadelphia in 1897 and is best known for introducing the song “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” in the 1940 production of Rodgers and Hart’s Pal Joey.  She died in California in 1992 at the age of 95.

The 1940 production of Pal Joey was never recorded, but she made the following recording of her most famous performance in 1951.

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Annette Hanshaw, 1920’s-30’s Radio and Recording Star

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1935RadioGuideAnnetteHanshawFeatured here on the cover ofhe March 11, 1933 issue of Radio Guide is Annette Hanshaw, who was also featured in the magazine’s June 16, 1934, issue, from which the photograph above is taken.

Throughout her carreer, she gave her birthdate as 1910, although it was revealed after her death that she had actually been born in 1901. The 1934 article notes that she first sang professionally at the age of sixteen, but she would have been about 25 at the time. Her father owned an inn at Mt. Kisco, New York, and she started a music shop in the same town. One day, Waldemar Rose, a Pathé record executive, visited the store, heard her voice, and advised her to audition. She was immediately offered a job, and between 1926 and 1934, she sold over four million records.

One of her most ardent fans was Edward VIII, the then Pricne of Wales, who had a standing order for all of her records. She recorded under a number of names, including her own. Her other names included Gay Ellis, Dot Dare, and Patsy Young, Ethel Bingham, Marion Lee, Janet Shaw, and Lelia Sandford. Her first records were released under the Pathé and Perfect labels, as well as other labels. Her radio career included a starring role in the NBC radio program Maxwell House Show Boat, and she had one film appearance, in a 1933 Paramount short “Captain Henry’s Radio Show”, a “picturization” of the radio program, which you can view here:

In 1934, readers of Radio Stars magazine voted her the best female popular singer, the same year that Bing Crosby was named the best male popular singer.

She retired from show business in the late 1930’s. She later revealed that she disliked the business intensely, and admitted “I loathed it, and I’m ashamed to say I just did it for the money.”

She died in New York in 1985, and her New York Times obituary gave her age as 74. She was actually, however, 83, as her actual birth date was not revealed until after her death.

Scores of her recordings are available online. Here is her 1930 recording of “Happy Days are Here Again”:

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Funeral Gigs for 1940 Sound Men

1940DecRadioCraft

The electronic entrepreneur 75 years ago always had his eye open for a business opportunity, and

Ray W. Winter of Jenk’s Electric in La Habra, California, was no exception. In the December 1940 issue of Radio Craft magazine, he offers a case study of how he sold sound to local funeral directors and ministers.

A prominent physician had been killed in an auto accident, and an overflow crowd was expected for his funeral. The evening before the funeral, the minister and funeral director contacted Winter to set up a public address system covering the lawn and sidewalk outside the church. The diagram above shows the setup that was used.

A single microphone was used, about 5 feet from the pulpit and 8 feet from the choir and singers. This was close enough to ensure good pickup, but far enough away to avoid loud blasts if someone spoke too loudly too close to the microphone. The amp was set up a moderate distance from the speakers where the operator could monitor the levels. At the end of each solo or talk, he momentarily lowered the volume to avoid a loud blast, and then readjusted it for the next portion of the program.

The amp put out about 4 watts to each of the speakers. The amp had ten tubes, and could accomodate two mike inputs. In addition, for other work, the owner had a turntable and tuner available. He charged $6-12 for a funeral, and he reported that the total cost of all of his equipment was about $340. He always carried a few extra tubes as a safety factor.

Winters hoped that his idea would prove useful for other sound men. He noted the importance of making contacts with the local funeral directors.

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Neutral Ship Wireless in the European War Zone

The Seguranca in Havana Harbor

The Seguranca in Havana Harbor

A hundred years ago this month, the December 1915 issue of Wireless Age carried an interesting account of J.K. Noble, the wireless operator aboard the steamer Seguranca, recounting the ship’s voyage from Pensacola to London with a cargo of naval stores and lumber. The ship left New York en route to Pensacola on May 30, and the most remarkable incident on that leg of the voyage was a hawk which perched itself on the ship’s mast looking for a meal. It set its eyes on the ship’s mascot, a kitten named Booze, and finally swooped down on the cat. The cat fought back and managed to break free. The ship’s crew attempted to shoot the hawk, but the bullet went wild and the bird flew away.

The trip across the Atlantic was initially uneventful. Noble points out that the wireless gave the latest news every night from Cape Cod and Poldhu, England. He was able to copy the French war news from FL, the Eiffel Tower station, up to 1600 miles from Paris. The French time signals were also used to check the accuracy of the ship’s chronometer.

As the ship neared England, the traffic picked up, the call signs were unfamiliar, and almost all messages were coded. The call signs he heard included ZAAW, ABMV, CX, A27, 51M, XXJ, and YCF.

On July 7, Noble copied a message sent by the Poldhu station to the Saxonia, then serving as a troop ship, with a warning of a possible bomb placed on board by a fanatic who had attacked J.P. Morgan (apparently Erich Muenter).

As the ship entered the war zone, the Seguranca kept her neutral American flag illuminated at night, as well as the letters “U.S.A.” which had been painted on both sides of the ship. The lifeboats were slung out. Two submarines were sighted, but they kept a considerable distance.

The Seguranca's lifeboats at the ready as she enters the war zone.

The Seguranca’s lifeboats at the ready as she enters the war zone.

The ship entered the English Channel through the Strait of Dover, passing through two light ships. The British ordered the Seguranca to take down her aerial at this point. At Deal, the ship was stopped by a British patrol boat and its officers examined the Seguranca’s papers. After a few hours’ delay, a pilot boarded and the ship headed to London under torpedo boat escort.

Taking down the aerial off Dover.

Taking down the aerial off Dover.

The big guns in France could be heard, the sound ceasing only as the ship started up the Thames. To guard against air raids, the ship’s lights had to be covered at night, and the generator had been ordered shut off at 10:00 PM.

Because of a wartime shortage of stevedores, the ship remained in London for five and a half weeks while being unloaded. While in London, Noble was stopped more than one time by British officers trying to persuade him to enlist in the British forces.

The return trip gave Noble the opportunity to hear more radio traffic. After passing Dover, the aerial was reinstalled, and Noble was back on the air. On August 19, he first copied the Baron Erskine (MHF) reporting that it was being chased by a sub. One of the patrol boats reported that it was coming to her assistance. At 2:45, he copied an SOS, stating that it had been struck by two enemy subs. This ship gave a location, but didn’t sign a call sign. Noble concluded that this SOS had come from either the Arabic or the Nicosion. Since the reported location was 200 miles away, the Saguranca did not go to the aid of the distressed vessel.

Soon thereafter, at 5:30, he copied an SOS from the steamer Bovic, call sign GDO, reporting that she was being chased by a sub. A patrol boat said that she was coming to the Bovic‘s aid, but at 7:30, the Bovic reported that she was sinking. The patrol boat reported that she would be there by 9:00.

Two days later, the steamer Georgia (call sign GDT) was requesting a doctor, since her chief engineer had seriously wounded himself with a rifle. The Minnehaha, MMA, had a doctor aboard, but had some doubts as to the veracity of the message, fearing that it might have been faked by the Germans. After some confirmation, a rendezvous was arranged, and an hour or two later, the Minnehaha reported that the wounded man was on board.

The remainder of the voyage back to New York was uneventful, and the “Seguranca steamed past the lights of Coney Island and headed up the bay while on the lips of those on board was framed a word full of meaning–home.”

According to the Nautical Gazette, the Seguranca was launched in 1890 and served until 1920.

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FDR’s Secret Radio Car

 

1945DecemberFDRradiocar

70 years ago, the December 1945 issue of Radio Craft carried this previously secret image of the radio car of FDR’s wartime train.

It noted that the car, known as “No. 1401” was a converted passenger-baggage coach, and from this car, e ran a large part of the country’s war activities. It was equipped with wire and radio equipment that made it possible to telephone anywhere in the United States, carry on a radio teletype conversation “in virtually unbreakable code” at 100 words per minute, send and receive messages to ships at sea, or send and receive telegraph messages.

The article noted that the teletype machine was routed through a scrambler “which puts it into a code difficult to break because of its lack of uniformity.” When the train passed through a tunnel, the sending was automatically halted until the train re-emerged.

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1935 Audio Amp

1935AudioAmp

Eighty years ago, the December 1935 issue of Popular Mechanics promised that the depression-era entrepreneur could make some money, as long as he was handy with a soldering iron. He could do so by building this 30-watt audio amplifier, for use at county fairs, dances, bazaars, basketball tournaments, dog shows, or anywhere that sound was needed. According to the article, the usual rental charge for such an amplifier, three speakers, a microphone, and phono turntable, along with the operator, was $15 per evening, or $75 for a week of fifty hours.

The chassis with all holes pre-drilled was available for $8, and the rest of the components for the ten-tube amplifier were readily available. With power transformer and two rectifier tubes, the unit was all set to plug in to normal household current. It was said to put out 30 watts of distortionless sound with excellent tone.

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Pearl Harbor Radio Coverage

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USS Shaw at Pearl Harbor. Defense Department Photo.

Today marks the 74th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941.  A total of 2403 Americans were killed and 1178 were wounded.  Eighteen ships, including five battleships, were sunk or run aground.  Most Americans learned of the attack by radio.  The first announcement was made by CBS’s John Charles Daly, at about 2:35 PM Eastern Time.  That first announcement was never recorded.

The following recording, from Minneapolis station WCCO, apparently starts at about 2:30 Central Time, 3:30 Eastern Time with an announcement of the attack at the conclusion of the New York Philharmonic concert. The concert had started at 3:00 Eastern Time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmxrx8ZDEhs

 

You’ve probably heard an announcement breaking into a symphony mid-note, with the words: “We interrupt this program to bring you a special news bulletin. The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii by air.” This was actually from a record produced by CBS in 1948. The first sentence of the announcement was apparently recorded in 1948. The second sentence came from an actual broadcast later in the day. You can hear the original at this link.  You can hear the 1948 recording at 26:50 of this video:

References

 



Piezoelectrics For Your Time Travel and Post-Apocalyptic Needs

Completed piezoelectric speaker from 1968 article.

Completed piezoelectric speaker from 1968 article.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about some plans for homemade microphones from 1945. One was very crude but easy to duplicate. But one was quite sophisticated, and could be made at home by growing a piezoelectric crystal from a saturated solution of Rochelle Salt.

The piezoelectric microphone is particularly intriguing because it should function equally well as a piezoelectric speaker.  For this reason, it has an interesting application, albeit perhaps not one that is immediately practical.

Being Prepared for Inadvertent Time Travel

The knowledge of how to build such a speaker could come in handy in a couple of situations, at least one of which is probably unlikely.  The first situation would be that of inadvertent time travel.  If you get caught in a time warp and sent to the past, it would be wise if you could make the best of a bad situation and be able to “invent” some technological devices.  (And as I’ve previously written, having a WikiReader in your pocket would make the situation much more bearable.)  And as a loyal reader of this blog, it stands to reason that one of the technologies that you could “invent” would be radio.


While there are no documented cases of this ever happening, the science fiction literature is full of examples.  Probably the oldest example is Mark Twain‘s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.  Other examples include 1632 by Eric Flint and the Island in the Sea of Time series by S.M. Stirling.

Cobbling together a transmitter would be relatively easy, as long as the time period into which you were deposited had some rudimentary industries.  You’ll need some wire for winding coils and putting up an antenna, some metal for building capacitors and a spark gap, some acid for making batteries, and a few other bits and pieces that should be readily available in the Middle Ages.  With a bit of ingenuity, you should be able to come up with a transmitter with a range of hundreds of miles.

And with the exception of one component, a suitable receiver would be relatively easy to make.  Once again, you’ll need some wire for the coil and antenna, a few pieces of metal for fabricating other parts, and something to serve as a detector.  The detector would be quite simple.  The most common material, which would give good results, would be a chunk of Galena (lead ore).  If you find yourself in an area where this mineral is unavailable, there are many substitutes, as discussed in my earlier posts (this one and this one) about “foxhole radios” or my earlier post about emergency wartime crystal sets.

The one part, however, that will be difficult to procure is a suitable earphone.  If you’re lucky enough to be transported back in time after the invention of the telephone, then your problem is partially solved.  A telephone receiver will have an impedance that is too low for your receiver, but by rewinding the coil, you should be able to come up with a suitable headphone.  If the telephone hasn’t been invented yet, you can of course take the honors and invent it.  But if you want to jump ahead to radio technology, you’ll need to fabricate a suitable headphone to hook up to your radio.

This brings us back to the piezoelectric microphone we discussed earlier.   This type of microphone works equally well in either direction:  It can change electrical impulses to sound, as well as working the other way around and changing sound into electrical impulses.  Therefore, if you build a piezoelectric microphone, you can hook it up to your crystal set and listen to that transmitter you put on the air.

As discussed in my earlier post, the piezoelectric microphone/headphone should be relatively straightforward.  All you need, in addition to the scraps of metal you already procured, is a piezoelectric crystal.  And the article linked there gives you the basics of growing one.  In addition to water, all you will need is Rochelle Salt, also known as potassium sodium tartrate tetrahydrate.  This compound was first prepared in 1675 by Pierre Seignette. So if your time travel lands you after that date, you should be able to procure it. Of if it’s about 1675 and you’re anywhere near La Rochelle, France, you would be advised to look up Monsieur Seignette and collaborate with him on the project.

If you arrive before 1675, all hope is not lost. According to this site, you can whip up a batch using the ingredients cream of tartar and washing soda.  Cream of tartar is a byproduct of the wine making process, so it should be available at any time after the invention of wine, which dates back to antiquity.  So as long as those ingredients are available, you should be able to recreate radio.

An alternative method of building the headphone is described in the book The Voice of the Crystal by H. Peter Friedrichs.  This is a magnetic headphone which would require a very fine gauge of insulated wire, but a good jeweler of almost any era should be able to help you procure the components.

Rebuilding Civilization After a Collapse

The other time one would need to recreate radio technology would be after a collapse of society.  There are billions of radios in existence, any many more component parts, so it is very unlikely that you would need to start from scratch.  Even after hundreds of years of dark ages, many relics of our current technological society would still be available to provide usable parts.  This scenario is discussed in detail in the book The Knowledge: How to Rebuild Civilization in the Aftermath of a Cataclysm by Lewis Dartnell, which I previously reviewed.

The most abundant source of headphones for your post-apocalyptic crystal set would probably be the microphones from the billions of cell phones currently in existence.  In most cases, these are probably piezoelectric, and would work well for a crystal set headphone.  (The billions of stereo headphones and earbuds probably wouldn’t be of much use, since they are too low an impedance to work properly with a crystal set.)

Science Fair Project

Even if you don’t anticipate time travel or TEOTWAWKI (The End Of the World As We Know It), a homemade speaker or microphone could be part of a most impressive science fair project.  Even very young students could fabricate the simple three-nail microphone shown in my earlier post.  And more advanced students will be capable of making speakers or microphones that rival commercially available ones.

A More Refined Version of the Piezoelectric Speaker

Near perfect crystals from 1968 article.

Near perfect crystals from 1968 article.

The 1945 piezoelectric microphone linked in my original post is probably suitable for all of your time travel or post-apocalyptic needs.  However, a more refined version, shown at the top of this page, is from the May-June 1968 issue of Elementary Electronics.  While the 1945 article probably gives enough detail for the experimenter to grow a crystal and put it to work, the 1968 article goes into much greater detail.  It gives detailed instructions on growing the crystal, and the completed crystals, shown here, turn out nearly perfect.  In particular, the 1968 article gives detailed instructions on starting with a seed crystal and maintaining the temperature of the saturated solution as the crystals form.  While the 1945 article would probably result in a usable crystal looking like a piece of rock candy, the details in the later article result in a crystal that can be further ground to dimensions that would make it quite sensitive.

Construction details of 1968 piezoelectric speaker.

Construction details of 1968 piezoelectric speaker.

The construction details of the final speaker are shown above.  The crystal is ground and polished to about 1/16 inch in thickness, and then sandwiched between two pieces of aluminum foil.  (If your time travels take you to a time when aluminum was still considered a precious metal, substitution of other metal shouldn’t present a problem.)  A current applied to the two pieces of foil causes the crystal to vibrate.  The author of the 1968 article used the cone of a defunct 12 inch radio speaker, which could be replaced by some other type of cone.  For use with a crystal set, the large cone might prove a detriment, since the crystal set might not be putting out enough audio to set it into vibration.  Constructing some sort of headphone would probably be more suitable for a crystal set.

The photo above shows a matching transformer, but this would not be necessary for use with a crystal set.  The example shown in the 1968 article was designed to replace a standard low-impedance permanent magnet speaker.  The high impedance of the piezoelectric speaker would be perfectly suited to the output of a crystal set.

For even more details on growing crystals, the author of the 1968 article recommends the book Crystals and Crystal Growing by by Alan Holden and Phylis Morrison, which is still available and in print.  And if you’re just looking to make a crystal set and want to buy a piezoelectric earphone (or other needed parts), you can find them on my crystal set parts page.

 

 

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1935 One Tube 5 Meter Transceiver

1935W9LPV

Stanley Johnson, W9LBV, of Grand Island, Nebraska, is shown here in the December 1935 issue of Popular Science operating his $3 five meter transceiver. The set contains a single tube, a type 76 triode. He reports that “probably the first radio distress call ever sent from a moving bicyle was transmitted with this compact set. During tests, the author, operating the transceiver as he pedaled along a country road, noticed that the front tire on his bicycle had developed a leak. A hurried call on the radiotelephone to a brother experimenter back in town brought the necessary repair materials long before the tire was entirely flat.”

He reports that when used mobile with 135 volts of batteries, the rig had a range of a couple of miles. The range was limited primarily by the voltage of the B battery. When used at a fixed location with higher plate voltage and a better antenna, the range was considerably greater.

1935W9LPVschematicThe circuit is simplicity itself, as revealed by the schematic. The tube served as a Hartley oscillator which was used as a superregenerative receiver. Flipping the switch to transmit shorted out the headphones, removed the grid leak resistor from the circuit, and hooked up an absorption modulation circuit.

1935W9LPVtransceiver

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