Seventy years ago this month, the December 1951 issue of Boys’ Life carried a feature entitled “SWLing is Swell,” pointing out all of the fun that can be had by shortwave listening, primarily to the ham bands. The article began with an incident shown in this dramatic illustration, of the robbery of dentist and ham radio operator Dr. Phillip Weintraub.

The two well-dressed robbers barged into Dr. Weintraub’s office, in which he luckily had his ham station set up. In a stroke of luck, he was in the middle of transmitting, and left the transmitter turned on while the robbery was taking place.

The thieves were disappointed that the dentist had no money other than five dollars in his wallet, and there was no gold on the premises. The tied him up, stashed him in a closet, and departed.

As luck would have it, however, the dentist’s wife, Evelyn Weintraub, was at home, and just happened to be listening to her husband’s station. She quickly called the police, and then raced to the office, arriving before the first squad car. She pounded frantically at the closet door, and one of the responding officers was able to take the door off its hinge. The police sergeant later told her, “you’d be a widow right now if you hadn’t heard those holdup men over the radio and reported it.”

The story sounds a bit suspect, but there’s enough corroboration to say that it is probably true, and probably took place in about 1937. There was indeed a Philip and Evelyn Weintraub in Chicago, as shown in the 1940 census.  Indeed, his house at 3252 W. Victoria Street is a Chicago landmark complete with its own Wikipedia page.

And the 1952 call book shows Philip Weintraub listed twice, once as W9SZW at 3252 Victoria, and as W9TMQ at 201 South Pulaski Road.  That address is currently a vacant lot, but it’s in a commercial district, and it seems like a plausible spot where a dental office would have been located 70 years ago. The callbook also lists a Royd L. Weintraub as being licensed as W9PZO at the home address. In the 1940 census, Royd is listed as being 2 years old, so he would have been about 14 years old in 1952. You can see the younger Weintraub’s biography at this link.

Thus it appears the doctor had a secondary station location licensed at his office, and the story sounds more plausible. Indeed, the incident is recorded in more detail in the 1941 book Calling CQ by Clinton DeSoto, W9KL, which includes much the same story, with the added detail that Weintraub was in QSO with W9JFF or (or possibly W9JJF), who was “frantic but impotent,” as his heart pounded madly listening to the drama unfold. DeSoto’s account notes that the doctor stayed late at the office, having told his wife, reportedly a dark haired sultry beauty, that he would be late, and invited her to listen in, as she often did.

The other reference I found to this story was a brief mention in the July 1937 issue of Radio News.  Apparently, WMAQ ran a midnight program consisting of dramatic reenactments of “important events in amateur radio,” sponsored by Hallicrafters. The magazine shows a reenactment of the holdup, and notes only that “Dr. Weintraub was saved due to the presence of a transmitter in his office.”

I would stay up until midnight to listen to that program, and it’s a shame that it’s no longer on the air.

Sixty years ago this month, the November 1961 issue of Boys’ Life carried this article about what was probably the dream job of many a young man–a radio station DJ. The job meant odd hours and working weekends and holidays, but it was still a sought after position, and stations were hiring.

The author, DJ Arthur S. Harris, Jr., noted that in earlier years, the local station typically just carried network programs, with the staff announcer earning his pay merely by giving station ID. But programming was becoming local more and more, and the position of announcer often became that of DJ, spinning the records.

A few DJ’s in big cities could get salaries of over $25,000 per year, but starting pay was about $65 to $70 per week, which could probably grow to $150 a week.

To get started, the main advice was to practice. A tape recorder was an indispensible tool to record examples off the air to study, and to make practice tapes. Finally, audition tapes could be sent to radio stations. Schools and libraries might have a recorder that could be used, or a second-hand recorder could be had for about $50.

A hundred years ago this month, this savvy advertiser realized that scouts would be a huge market for the magic of radio. Wireless merit badge had been introduced in 1918, and radio was a young man’s game. This ad from the Wireless Equipment Co., Inc., of Newark, NJ touted the company’s ABC Unit detector.

The unit was a complete crystal set, but the name referred to the fact that it could be added to other units in a modular fashion. After starting with the crystal detector, a two-step amplifier could be added, or a vacuum tube detector could replace the crystal.

The booklet describing the set was only a dime, but the price of the set would have been out of reach of the impecunious scout. It sold for $24.50 which, according to this inflation calculator, works out to $375 in 2021 dollars.  The ad appeared in the November 1921 issue of Boys’ Life.

Shown at left is Scout Jack Reese of Troop 40, Middleton, Wisconsin, brushing up on his Morse code 70 years ago. He wasn’t yet licensed, so the transmitter is “dead,” according to an article about amateur radio in the September 1951 issue of Boys’ Life. Ham radio was a fairly common subject of articles in the magazine, and this was the first article on the subject since the FCC had authorized the Novice class license. According to the magazine, getting a license was hard, but the process had just become easier with the new class of license, and the average age of licensees was starting to drop.

Troop 40 was taking to amateur radio with a passion, with 13 scouts working toward earning their licenses, under the guidance of three scouters who were hams, including Jack Pomeroy, W9OME, who served as trustee of the station operating from Middleton High School. The troop already had transmitters for 2, 10, 20, 40, 80, and 160 meters, and was preparing for emergency work.

The magazine noted that in coming months, it would carry plans for both a transmitter and receiver suitable for new Novices.

Eighty years ago, these scouts took the Scout Motto seriously, and they are prepared for bad weather with this GE portable radio. Despite the rain, they can have fun on their camping trip by pulling in some interesting program from the comfort of their tent.

The model shown is the LB-530, which contained a lead-acid storage battery. It included a standard household plug, and when playing on AC, the battery automatically charged. There was also provision for charging from a car battery.

The ad appeared in the August 1941 issue of Boys’ Life.

Seventy years ago this month, the July 1951 issue of Boys’ Life carried a biography of Vic Clark, W4KFC.  Clark later went on to become president of the ARRL from 1982 until his death in 1983.  He was, however, already a well known ham in 1951.  His biggest claim to fame was taking first place in the 1948 November Sweepstakes.

According to the article, Clark’s interest in radio came when he happened to hear some hams on his family’s broadcast radio, and incident he said fired his interest.  He was licensed soon thereafter, as shown in the illustration above.  He went on to a career with the Civil Aviation Administration, later the Federal Aviation Administration.

Seventy years ago, the May 1951 issue of Boys’ Life carried these plans for “one of the prettiest radios you’ve ever seen.” The chassis was a plastic dinner plate, and the magazine specified that the dish should be yellow, with dashing red fittings. With a good antenna (at least 100 feet) and ground, the set would pull in medium power stations up to 25 miles away.

The coil was wound on a piece of dry wood. As Boys’ Life was sometimes prone to do, they forgot to mention that the enamel insulation would need to be sanded off the wire at the point where the slider contacted it.

If you need help sourcing the parts to recreate this or other crystal set designs, be sure to check out our crystal set parts page.

Eighty years ago, these young men, probably scouts, are sitting around the campfire pulling in a distant program, with their General Electric Model LB-530 portable.  The five tube (1A7GT 1N5GT 1N5GT 1H5GT 1Q5GT) set operated off an internal lead-acid battery, which could be charged from either a car or 120 volts, either while playing or when turned off. The two volt internal battery lit the filaments directly, and provided the B+ with a vibrator power supply.

We previously featured another ad for the same set. The set retailed for $39.95. This ad appeared in the May 1941 issue of Boys’ Life.