Category Archives: Radio history

Radio Keeps a Government Girl Company, 1943

Image via Wikimedia.

Image via Wikimedia.

By 1944, with able-bodied men off to war, a third of the Civil Service was composed of women, and thousands of “Government Girls” descended on Washington to do their part to win the war by taking jobs in the quickly expanding federal government.

This brought acute housing shortages, and many of them lived in boarding houses.  Among them was the young woman shown here in this iconic photograph by government photographer Esther Bubley.  Bubley was herself one of those Government Girls.  She grew up in Superior Wisconsin.  After graduating from high school in the late 1930’s, she attended Superior Teachers College (now University of Wisconsin-Superior) before studying photography at the Minneapolis School of Art (now the Minneapolis College of Art and Design).

"I come in here pretty often, sometimes alone, mostly with another girl, we drink beer, and talk, and of course we keep our eyes open--you'd be surprised at how often nice, lonesome soldiers ask Sue, the waitress, to introduce them to us" Wikimedia.

“I come in here pretty often, sometimes alone, mostly with another girl, we drink beer, and talk, and of course we keep our eyes open–you’d be surprised at how often nice, lonesome soldiers ask Sue, the waitress, to introduce them to us” Wikimedia.

She moved to Washington in 1942, eventually landing a job as a photographer with the Office of War Information, where she documented the home front, including the lives of her fellow civil servants, such as the one shown above, taken in January 1943, with the caption:   “A radio is company for this girl in her boardinghouse room.”  Another civil servant is shown in the picture to the left.

The girl in the radio picture is, according to this source, quite likely one of Bubley’s sisters.  The boardinghouse project was Bubley’s first in Washington.  Even though she started out as a microfilm clerk, the results launched her career as a photographer.

The other star of the photo is, of course, the radio.  It can be examined in better detail in the available high resolution scan.  There aren’t enough details to positively identify it.  I thought that the unusual octagonal tuning dial would make the job easy, but I was wrong.

Stromberg-Carlson did have a number of sets with the distinctive octagonal tuning dial, but this doesn’t appear to be a Stromberg-Carlson.  First of all, the set is just too low-end for that company’s line.  It has only two controls, and the tuning knob is connected directly to the tuning condenser, with no kind of gearing visible.  More importantly, the Stromberg-Carlson name is not visible.  It would almost certainly have appeared on the dial itself, but the only markings on this one are “kilocycles” and “meters.”

There is a brand name visible under the speaker, but it’s not possible to make it out.  It appears to start with either an M or a W, but it certainly isn’t the same script used by Stromberg-Carlson.  Despite the passing resemblance to some of Stromberg-Carlson’s sets, I have to rule it out.  If anything, it’s a cheap knockoff of a Stromberg-Carlson.

It’s most likely that the radio had its beginnings in the nebulous radio history of Chicago.  There’s a good chance that it was manufactured in a mysterious facility known only as “Plant A,”  1217 W. Washington Blvd. Chicago was the home of many small radio factories, the largest of which was “Plant A.” They were known only by the source given on the label in back, which also recited that they were manufactured under license of the patent holders. And good number of them identified the source as being “Plant A.” Plant A turned out radios under the names of Clinton, Corona, Crusader, Cub, Bostonian, Buckingham, Federal, Harmony, Marshall, Nightengale, Universal, and Westminster. In most cases, these were the house brands of individual stores who contracted with the owners of Plant A.

It’s really not known who the owners of Plant A and the other Chicago plants were. One source lists the owner as being Clinton Mfg. Co., but it’s not entirely clear whether Clinton owned the plant, or whether it was simply one of the brands manufactured there.

In any event, the circumstantial evidence seems strong that the radio came from one of these Chicago plants.  Civilian radio production ended on April 22, 1942, and the set resembles the inexpensive four-tube radios that were available in about 1940.  For example, the circuit is probably very close to the Tiny Knight from Chicago’s Allied Radio, or the 1940 Aetna Midget from Chicago-based Walgreen’s.  Like those sets, the Government Girl probably paid about $7.95 for it at a drug store, tire store, or some other store that contracted with a factory in Chicago to put their name on it.

The closest match I was able to find to the Government Girl’s radio is this Clinton Model 440 4-tube TRF receiver.  The general layout is the same, and it’s quite possible that there’s an identical chassis inside.  In fact, the Clinton seems to have a permanently attached antenna wire, which is visible in the Government Girl’s window.

Now that we have a good suspicion of what the radio was, I’m sure you’re wondering what station the Government Girl was listening to.  The dial pointer is visible in the high resolution photo, but it’s impossible to read the numbers.  But the top scale is clearly frequency in kilocycles, and the bottom scale is wavelength in meters.  The numbers are closer together at the left on the meter scale, indicating that this is the top of the dial (190 meters, or 1600 kilocycles).  With that hint, it’s clear that the dial is set to 250 meters, meaning that the position of the top scale is 1200 kilocycles.

The Winter 1943 issue of White’s Radio Log shows that the most likely station as  WOL, on 1260 with 1000 watts.  The closest possible other contenders would have been 50,000 watt stations WBAL in Baltimore, on 1090, or WRVA on 1140 in Richmond, but it doesn’t appear that the dial is set low enough for either of those stations.  In fact, with the simple 4-tube receiver and dubious window antenna, the signal from the Richmond station would probably have been too weak to keep the set’s owner company.

Incidentally, even though the caption says that the radio was keeping her company, it was turned off when the picture was taken.  Even a humble radio such as this one would have had a dial light.  The dial light wasn’t there as a convenience for the user; that was just a convenient side-effect.  In a radio such as this with the tube filaments wired in series, the dial lamp is in parallel with some of the tubes to limit the current to them.  Without the dial light, those tubes would fail prematurely, especially when the set is first turned on.  So even the radio that a Government Girl bought at the drug store for $7.95 would have had one.

I would like to thank the QRZ.com members who helped me figure out the mysteries of this radio, in particular KP4SX and KC8VWM.  And if anyone has further details, please share them, either by e-mail or in the comments.

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Arthur C. Miller, 1930-40’s Radio Writer

Miller's 1940 project going together.

Miller’s 1940 project going together.

No, he didn’t write Death of a Salesman. That was a different Arthur Miller, as was the cinematographer. Instead, the byline of Arthur C. Miller appeared in numerous radio articles in Popular Science in the 1930’s and 1940’s. While most of his how-to articles appeared in Popular Science, he did write for other magazines, such as the “world’s smallest 3 tube receiver” shown here in the December, 1936 issue of Radio Craft.RadioCraftDec1936

Miller’s specialty was construction articles, usually aimed at the relative beginner to the radio art. A good example of his writing appeared 75 years ago this month, in the September 1940 issue of Popular Science.

This was the start of a series entitled “Get Started in Radio for $8.95.” Miller provides a parts list for a beginner to put together his own electronics laboratory kit. In the series of articles, the reader would put together a simple circuit, and in later installments, modify or add to it. In the process, the reader would put together six different circuits to provide a course in both construction and theory. The first circuit was a two-tube earphone receiver. Over the months, it would grow to a four-tube receiver with speaker. The circuits would also include an audio amplifier for use with a phonograph. All of the circuits were designed to use the same parts, allowing the reader to build them, take them apart, and build something else, making the most of the initial assortment of parts.

The series was essentially the same concept as the “Progressive Edu-Kit,” which appeared in radio publications for decades. A good description of that kit can be found at KB8TAD’s page.

Despite the fact that Miller was a fairly prolific author of radio articles, I’ve been unable to find much information about him. In the preface of the magazine’s book Radio for the Millions, Miller is identified as being from New York. The 1938 call book lists no Arthur Miller in the second call area, and I’ve never seen a call sign in his byline. Therefore, it’s safe to say that he wasn’t a licensed ham. In the 1960’s, an Arthur C. Miller served as production editor of Electronics magazine, although I don’t know if that’s one and the same. If anyone has further information about this author, I would appreciate if you could share it, either in the comments or by e-mail.

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Julia Sanderson (1888-1975)

JuliaSanderson

Pictured here, on the cover of What’s On The Air, September 1930, is one of the radio stars of 85 years ago, Julia Sanderson, who then appeared on CBS radio with her husband and vaudeville partner Frank Crumit.  They starred in the “Blackstone Plantation” program on CBS, which aired Tuesday evenings at 8:00, sponsored by Blackstone Cigars.  In 1930, the program moved to NBC in the same time slot, as well as on the NBC Blue Network on Thursdays at 9:00.  The program last aired in 1934.  In addition to music, the program consisted of light humor, mostly a vaudevillian give and take between Crumit and Sanderson.  A brief snippet of the program is available online at OldTimeRadioDownloads.com.  (The Crumit and Sanderson segment begins at 07:13.)  In addition, a number of Crumit and Sanderson’s recordings have been released on CD and are available on Amazon.

Crumit was an accomplished ukulele player.  It seems incomprehensible today, but over the course of his career, he had thousands of ukulele recordings.  Crumit, born in 1888, was trained as an engineer, but started in vaudeville at the age of 25.   In this 1925 recording, he performs “I’m Sitting On Top Of the World”:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44nWQ7RglTk

Julia Sanderson was the stage name of Julia Ellen Sackett, Sanderson being her mother’s maiden name.  She had been a child actor who switched to vaudeville as a teen.  Starting in 1904, she also starred in Broadway productions.  She married Crumit, four years her junior, in 1922, but the two didn’t appear together as the act Crumit and Sanderson until 1928, moving to radio in 1929.

After Blackstone Plantation left the air, Crumit and Sanderson appeared in other programs, including the Bond Bread broadcasts, 1934-36 on CBS, the Norge Musical Kitchen and It’s Florida’s Treat, 1936, The Battle of the Sexes, 1938-42 on NBC, the Crumit and Sanderson Quiz, 1942 on CBS, and Singing Sweethearts, 1943 on CBS.

Crumit died of a heart attack in 1943, and Sanderson continued briefly with Let’s Be Charming, a Thursday afternoon program aimed at women.  Sanderson died in 1975 at the age of 87.

 

References

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Elisabeth Lansdale Du Val, Ship Wireless Operator

S.S. Howard, Merchants and Miners Transportation Co.

S.S. Howard, Merchants and Miners Transportation Co.

Elisabeth (sometimes spelled Elizabeth) Lansdale Du Val (Hobleman) (1893-1987) was a ship wireless telegraph operator in the early days of radio, serving on the S.S. Howard of the Merchants and Miners Transportation Company line, in the employ of the Marconi Wireless Telegraph Company.  At the time, she was the only woman serving aboard a ship as wireless operator.

She was the daughter of Edmund Brice Du Val of 2200 North Charles St., Baltimore, and was the great granddaughter of Justice Gabriel Duvall (1752-1844), who was named to the U.S. Supreme Court by President Madison and served from 1811-35.

She passed the Commerce Department examination for a first grade commercial license on September 27, 1917.  On December 4, she began service as wireless operator on the Howard between Baltimore and Jacksonville.  She had sole responsibility for the afternoon shift, and was on watch each night.  Even though approximately fifty women held licenses, Miss Du Val was apparently the only wireless operator serving aboard a ship.

The Commerce Department had received numerous inquiries from women desiring to become wireless operators.  The department advised them that because of housing conditions on shipboard, there was hardly any demand for women as radio operators.  Instead, the department advised them to study American Morse, since there was a great shortage of landline telegraph operators due to the war, and that Western Union was providing instruction and even paying while new operators learned the trade.

On February 19, 1918, she applied to the Secretary of the Navy for a commission and assignment to a war vessel.  According to press accounts, the Navy “took the application under advisement,” but it was apparently never granted.

She married H.A. Hobelman, a 1917 graduate of Johns Hopkins University, on June 14, 1922.  Interestingly, in 1911, young Hobelman had contributed an item to Popular Mechanics for reducing stress on an anchor chain.  Mrs. Hobelman died in Maryland in 1987 at the age of 94.

References

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Selling Portable Radios in 1939

PortableDemo1939

In 1939, Tom Carmichael, the manager of the radio and home appliance department of the Hopper-Kelly Music Company in Seattle decided that he needed to sell more portable radios. The shop’s window contained a colorful animated miniature circus, but buyers weren’t coming inside to look at radios. So Carmichael hired a pretty girl and sent her out to lure in the customers. He gave eighteen-year-old Ruth Carlyle a portable set to sling over her shoulder and sent her outside. She would inconspicuously appear near likely prospects and tune the radio to a musical program.

RuthCarlyle1939At first, most customers thought the music was coming from inside the store. But when they discovered the source, they “found it easy to learn more about the set from a girl who didn’t strain the eyes, proved pleasant to talk to and seemed just as naturally friendly as if they had known her all their lives.”

In her first three days on the job, Miss Carlyle took 57 customers by the arm and led them into the store, where salesmen on the floor closed the deal.Portable1939

The radio salesgirl appears to be the same Ruth Carlyle Miller shown in this 2010 obituary.  According to this source, the store was located at 1421 3rd Avenue.

The photos here appeared in Radio and Television Retailing magazine, September 1939.

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Ahmed’s Clock

Irving, TX, Police Dept. photo, via NY Daily News.

Irving, TX, Police Dept. photo, via NY Daily News.

Ahmed Mohammed is a bright 14-year-old student in Irving Texas.  He made the digital clock shown above in a pencil case, and this week brought it to school.  He showed it to one teacher who was impressed.  He then put it away in his backpack, but it started beeping during another class.

The other teacher apparently believed that bright kids shouldn’t bring unusual looking things to school.  The principal was called, and then the police were called.  Ahmed was arrested for having what someone believed to be a “hoax bomb.”

Nobody thought it was a real bomb.  Ahmed didn’t think it was a hoax bomb.  It was a clock, and it presumably told time.  He told the police that it was a clock.  He didn’t elaborate any further, because there was nothing to elaborate about.  He could have said that it told time, but presumably the cops in Irving, Texas, already knew that clocks told time.  But because he didn’t elaborate further, he was arrested.

Last month, I posted on this site the digital clock shown below in a 1975 picture.

1975Scoreboard

As you can see, this clock is just like Ahmed’s, just a lot bigger.  As you can see, there are students in the background, and they don’t appear to be freaking out because there’s a big homemade clock in the room.  The teacher wasn’t alarmed.  The principal wasn’t alarmed.  The police weren’t alarmed.  They realized that it was a homemade clock, built from plans in a magazine.  And even though it presumably had a much greater explosive potential than Ahmed’s clock, nobody was concerned.

In 1975, there was nothing wrong with a kid making something unusual and bringing it to school.  Today, a kid might get arrested for doing the same thing.  And it’s a damn shame.

Stop it, people.  Use a little bit of common sense for a change.

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September 15 1945 Florida Hurricane

Miami Daily News, Sept. 16, 1945.

Miami Daily News, Sept. 16, 1945.

Seventy years ago today, September 15, 1945, a hurricane made landfall in Key Largo and then swept across Miami and Homestead, Florida. It was a Category 4 storm, and winds of 145 mph were clocked at Homestead Army Air Corps Base. Most of the city of Homestead was destroyed, and at Richmond Naval Air Station, a fire ignited during the storm burned down three hangars. 1632 homes were destroyed in Florida, and there were four deaths.

Amateur radio had not yet returned to the air after V-J Day, but hams were still available to help, since they formed the core of the War Emergency Radio Service, which had been formed during the War to allow hams to provide emergency communications for both civil defense and during natural disasters.

The November 1945 issue of QST reported “September Hurricane Finds Miami WERS Ready.” The Dade County civil defense operated under the call sign of WKNW, which used hams to link ten district headquarters stations to the main control station on the roof of the fifteen-story Technical Vocational Building. A Red Cross mobile disaster unit was also equipped with radio, as were a number of privately owned mobile units. Operations began as soon as the wind subsided enough for operators to get to their designated stations.

At the peak of the storm, all lines to the civil defense headquarters were down, and the WERS station, manned by hams and powered by an emergency generator, was the only link. When the phone line to Jackson Memorial Hospital went out, one of the mobiles was dispatched to that location, and contact was re-established in fifteen minutes.

When it was clear that Homestead had suffered damage, a convoy of vehicles set out from civil defense headquartrs. The antenna at headquarters had been repeatedly destroyed, and a temporary antenna was set up inside, with only limited range. Since it couldn’t reach Homestead, one of the mobile hams in the convoy backtracked until reliable communications was established. However, with the 2-1/2 meter equipment in use, it was not possible for that station to reach all the way to Homestead. It wasn’t until the third day that a reliable link was established between Miami and Homestead, after which a considerable amount of traffic flowed.

Singled out for praise were W4NB, W4AFF, W1KVB, W4CFC, w1JMT, and W4ANP, along with two other hams who were licensed after Pearl Harbor and hence had no amateur call sign.  Of those calls, the only one where I could find any later reference was Francis W. Jenard, W1JMT, who died in 1999, according to a QST Silent Key listing.  He was a member of the ARRL A-1 Operators Club, and you can see his 1963 QSL card at this link.

 

 

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Radio Goes to School, 1925

RadioSchool1925a

Ninety years ago, radio went to school, and these Kansas schoolchildren were starting their day by doing their morning calisthenics under the direction of Mike Ahearn, athletic director of the Kansas State Agricultural College. (Ahearn carefully avoided the word “exercise,” since he knew the children had been up for hours and had walked a mile or more to school.)  The same scene could be played out in any of the state’s 9000 country schools, but Ahearn was behind the microphone of the college’s radio station, KSAC in Manhattan.

RadioSchool1925bBy September 1925, when these pictures appeared in Radio in the Home magazine, a good percentage of those schools had already been equipped with receivers, and plans were in place to add a radio set to all of them.  In the photo shown here, the antenna is mounted to the school’s belfry, and it is powered by the teacher’s Model T parked outside.

The college’s director of radio extension, Sam Pickard, was doing more with radio than just morning calistenics. The sets would be in place for Kansas farmers to attend statewide radio meetings of farm organizations, and they could be used on Sundays to receive church service broadcasts.  Pickard’s vision for radio saw him appointed two years later by President Coolidge as one of the first five commissioners of the Federal Radio Commission.

KSAC had first come on the air on December 1, 1924, broadcasting with 500 watts on 880 kHz. In 1928, it moved to 580 kHz. In 1929, the Topeka Daily Capital wanted to start a radio station, and asked the college whether it could share the frequency. Since the college couldn’t afford to keep its station on the air 24 hours a day, it quickly came to terms, and was able to boost its power to 5000 watts to match the new station, WIBW.

By the 1980’s, the college had been known as Kansas State University for 30 years, and KSAC got around to requesting call letters that would match the University’s name. However, the call letters KKSU had been assigned to a ship, and even though the ship was mothballed, the owner wasn’t willing to relinquish them. So the station became KEXT (Kansas Extension) for a time until finally getting the KKSU call letters.

Over the years, the commercial station, had tried to buy out the college station, but the college refused. It wasn’t until 2001 that they had relented. WIBW had carried Wildcat football, and the University was planning on moving it to another station. WIBW used the opportunity to point out a clause its 1969 contract with the University. In exchange for allowing WIBW to carry the games, the college had been allowed to extend its operating hours by an additional 15 minutes each weekday. Finally, the University agreed to sell out for $1.5 million. The games would go to the other station, and KKSU would sign off for the last time in November, 2002,

Kansas wasn’t alone in putting radio receivers in the schools. Radio was already installed in schools in Cleveland, Ohio, and the superintendant predicted that within a few years, American schoolchildren would be receiving ten percent of their lessons by radio. Some of the big stations were involved. For example, KGO was broadcasting to the schools in Oakland, California, and WLS in Chicago was broadcasting “Uncle Ben” Darrow’s Little Red Schoolhouse into 150 schools in Cook County, Illinois, and was also popular at schools in Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Indiana.

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Allied “Tiny Knight” Model B10509 & B10510, 1941

 

1941Allied4TubeIn an earlier post, we showed an inexpensive 1940 four-tube broadcast radio for $7.95 available at Walgreen’s. A modest radio such as this one would probably stay in service until the end of the War, because on April 22, 1942, the War Production board ended the production of civilian radio receivers. So if you had a radio, that’s the one you would have for the duration.

Shown here is probably one of the least expensive prewar receivers of all. This model, the “Tiny Knight” from Allied Radio is shown here in the 1941 Allied catalog, and had a catalog price starting at $5.30. It measured 6-1/2 by 4-1/4 by 4-1/2 inches and weighed four pounds, and was billed as being something that you could hold in the “palm of your hand.” It was marketed as a second radio, or for travel: “It’s so small you can pack it into any size suit-case or overnight bag and take it along when you travel.” But it was also billed as being “so low-priced that anyone can afford it.” At the tail end of the depression, it’s likely that more than a few households had a set similar to this one as their only radio. And with the ban on the manufacture of new radios, quite a few of these sets were what many families depended upon for war news.

The set’s four tubes consisted of a 12K7GT RF amplifier, 12J7GT detector, and 50L6GT audio amplifier, with a 35Z5GT serving as the rectifier. It tuned as high as 1720 kHz, making it capable of picking up police calls in many areas.

This set was a TRF (tuned radio frequency) receiver. On the same page, Allied showed its least expensive superhet, a five-tube model starting at $8.30.

The four-tube set was Allied model B10509 or B10510, depending on the cabinet.

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1940: FCC Announces NARBA Rules

BC091540

Saturday, March 29, 1941, was a big day in broadcasting in the North America. At 3:00 AM Eastern Time, most of the broadcast stations in the United States had to change frequency, due to the North American Radio Broadcasting Agreement (NARBA).  The agreement was signed in Havana in 1937 and ratified by the U.S. Senate in 1938. The ratification stipulated that it should take effect a year after the treaty was ratified by four of the participating countries, Canada, Cuba, Mexico, and the United States.

The treaty was necessitated mostly by the powerful Mexican “border blaster” stations which operated on the same frequencies as U.S. stations and caused considerable interference. For example, an earlier post details how Chicago’s WCFL suffered interference from XEAW in Reynosa, Mexico.

Mexico had no incentive to deal with the situation, since it had never been assigned any “clear channel” stations on which these powerful stations could operate. The interference was Uncle Sam’s problem, and Mexico had no reason to fix it. As an incentive, NARBA gave Mexico its own clear channels on 800, 900, 1050, 1220, 1550, and 1570 kilocycles. The rest of North America agreed to keep these channels clear for Mexico. And in return, Mexico would limit its superpower stations to those channels.

The make room for the new channels, the broadcast band was expanded. It had previously run from 550 to 1500 kHz. The new band would extend from 540 to 1600 kHz, where it remained until 1990 when the top of the band was expanded to 1700 kHz.

As a result of the change, 777 of the country’s 862 standard broadcast stations got their orders to move. In most cases, the stations moved up the dial. Near the bottom of the dial, the move was generally up 10 kHz. Toward the top of the dial, most stations moved up 40 kHz. For example, WCCO in Minneapolis moved from 810 kHz to its present spot on the dial at 830.

Over the next few months, there was a great deal of activity. Transmitters would need some tuning during the early morning hours of March 29. But the most pressing matter was new crystals, and the change put a strain on the country’s crystal manufacturers. Since most stations had a spare, stations were encouraged to buy the spare from an existing station on their new frequency and to sell their own spare to a station moving in. For broadcast engineers, the night of March 28, 1941, would be a busy one.

Radio dealers could also take advantage of an opportunity for some business. It was estimated that there were ten million sets in use with pushbutton tuning. The September 15, 1940, issue of Broadcasting
pointed out that a service call to reset the buttons should cost about $2, although any listener “who can read and handle a screw-driver” should be able to do the job. As the months went on, many radio dealers sought to capitalize on the opportunity to visit customers’ homes, and perhaps sell a new set while they were there.

On this day 75 years ago, September 11, 1945, the FCC announced the new channels. The headline shown above is from the September 15, 1940, issue of Broadcasting.  It marked the start of a six-month frenzy to make the necessary changes.

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