Christmas of 1922 was going to be a big one for radio, as evidenced by this ad in the Washington Herald a hundred years ago today, November 15, 1922. As shown here, Santa’s workshop was busy turning out radio sets, many of which would show up under the tree.
We previously profiled this dealer, White & Boyer, 812 13th St. NW, Washington. In addition to running the retail dealership, they were the licensee of station WJH, thus ensuring their customers had something to tune in.
They didn’t have Zoom classes 60 years ago, but when a polio outbreak struck Nunda, NY, in 1962, the high school tapped the ingenuity of local hams and CB’ers to come up with a method of distance learning.
Several students came down with the disease and were confined to their homes. Initially, they had to discontinue their studies, but the school bought a number of CB radios. Hy-Gain antennas were placed on the school roof, with coaxial cables running to classrooms. The school purchased Johnson transceivers, and volunteer students carried the radios from class to class and plugged the radio into the coax outlet in each room. The teacher was then able to transmit lectures to students at home.
Individual homes had smaller mobile-style whip antennas installed hooked up to transceivers there. When homebound students were called upon, it was a simple matter of pressing the push-to-talk button.
The pictures here appeared in the November 1962 issue of Electronics Illustrated, which pointed out that so far, seven students had received their schooling at home via CB. The teacher shown above was discussing the lesson with a student after class. The magazine confirmed that call letters were always given as required.
On this date 80 years ago, the November 7, 1942, issue of Radio Guide carried this ad for Motorola car radios. Production of civilian radios had ceased on April 22, 1942, but Motorola dealers still had prewar sets in stock.
We previously featured ideas for bringing the car radio inside. With gas being strictly rationed, the radio would do more good inside. But Motorola took another view: Since you had to drive slowly to conserve gas and rubber, the radio would make the slow drive more enjoyable.
But those prewar stocks wouldn’t last forever, so you were reminded to get yours before they were gone, because there would be no more for the duration.
We’ve previously shown (here and here) this air raid alarm that could be attached to a radio, the Model AR-101 Air Raid Alarm from National Union Radio Corp., 57 State Street, Newark, NJ. The simple device would activate a siren-like sound if the station to which it was tuned left the air, which would presumably be because an air raid was in progress.
Here, in this illustration from the November 1942 issue of Popular Mechanics, we see it in action. While Junior looks on, Mom gathers the flashlight and shovel that Dad will use in his duties as air raid warden.
A hundred years ago, radio was sweeping the nation, and the Sunday Amarillo (Texas) Daily News for October 29, 1922, had to devote an entire pictorial page to the phenomenon. Bread trucks were getting equipped with radio, voices were heard across the Atlantic, and everything seemed to revolve around radio.
This Zenith ad ran a hundred years ago today in the October 26, 1922, issue of the Richmond (Ind.) Palladium and Sun-Telegram. It asks the reader what they’re going to do that night, and speculates that they might play an uninteresting game of cards, sit in an uninteresting conversation, or spend the night in some time-killing chore or lukewarm hobby.
But real, diversified entertainment was at hand, in the form of radio! To find out more, all you had to do was call the Weisbrod’s music store, the town’s Zenith dealer, and set up an appointment to come into the store and see what their sets could pull in.
(Click on the ad to see a full size version.)
Seventy years ago this month, the October 1952 issue of the British Wireless World carried this illustration showing possible methods of linking American and European television. The diagram had actually first appeared two months earlier in the August 1952 issue of Tele-Tech as part of an open letter to the President of the United States (which would have been Harry S Truman) imploring action on TV networking with Europe and South America. According to the magazine, American homes would be able to view the great events of Europe, live, but “the underprivileged of Europe can be shown the wonderful richness of life in America.”
The diagram showed the potential methods, the first of which being an “airplane-relay between a dozen or more express planes continuously flying a regular route across the ocean,” presumably carrying 16-mm film.
The next idea was Stratovision, the use of a string of aircraft aloft, each relaying the signal to the next plane. As we previously showed, this system was tested, and even used to a certain extent, in the United States. But doing it over the Atlantic would require a set of aircraft carriers on which the planes could land, which would likely make the idea much less feasible.
The next idea was a string of VHF relay stations through Labrador, Baffin Island, Greenland, Iceland, the Faeroe Islands, and the Shetland Islands. The longest link would be 290 miles, meaning that the idea might be feasible. If this idea sounds familiar, it’s because it’s similar to one we talked about earlier, one proposed by David Sarnoff in 1951, although his plan envisioned the link going the other way, over the Bering Strait. Other ideas included a submarine coaxial cable, or scatter transmission, essentially the use of brute force to propagate VHF signals over the horizon. It also mentioned “miscellaneous marginal proposals,” such as use of moon reflections, which of course depended on the moon being visible over both continents, which would happen for about five hours per day.
One of the first transatlantic broadcasts was the coronation of Queen Elizabeth the following year. It was first seen on American television courtesy of 16-mm film flown by the RAF to Gander, Newfoundland, to the CBC, which was then picked up by American networks. The first live transatlantic broadcast didn’t take place until 1962, and it relied upon a method not anticipated by the 1952 article, namely, the use of the Telstar 1 satellite. While Telstar was the first transatlantic use of satellite, it should be pointed out that it wasn’t the first television transmission by satellite. Those honors go to Echo 1, which successfully relayed signals via a passive reflector between the east and west coasts of the U.S.
Portion of 2LO’s original transmitter. Wikipedia photo.
This year marks the 100th anniversary of the BBC, the British Broadcasting Corporation. It was incorporated as a private enterprise, as the British Broadcasting Company, on October 18, 1922, and first hit the airwaves on 350 meters (857 kHz) on November 14, 1922, as station 2LO. 2LO had actually come on the air earlier, for an hour a day starting on May 11, 1922.
You can read more of the BBC’s history at their website. Most of our readers on the American side of the Pond will undoubtedly be most familiar with the signature tunes and interval signals of the World Service in the video below. (And the familiar tune does indeed have a name, namely, Lilliburlero.)
Seventy years ago this month, the October 1952 issue of the British journal Practical Wireless showed how to put together this handsome little one-tube receiver for mediumwave and longwave. With even a short indoor antenna, it would pull in a large number of stations, both from Britain and the continent.
The magazine pointed out that the set was obviously much more sensitive than a crystal set, but as the beginner gained more experience, it would serve as the basis for a loudspeaker set, with the addition of an amplifier.
The tube (or “valve” as it’s known on the other side of the Pond), could be a 1N5, 1N5GT, Mullard DF33, or Marconi/Osram Z14.
Eighty years ago this month, the October 1942 issue of Radio News carried this ad announcing that the U.S. Army Signal Corps was open for direct enlistment. As long as they had not received notice of induction, young men ages 18 and 19 could sign up, as long as they were physically fit. And up through ages 45, men with some experience in the communications industry could enlist as long as they passed the physical exam.
The ad appears to be paid for by Hallicrafters, probably as a way of keeping their name before the public, despite not being able to sell their wares for the duration.