Seventy years ago today, the July 27, 1951, issue of Life magazine carried this ad touting the features of General Electric televisions. Without explaining any of the technical details, the ad claims that GE’s “Black Daylite” guaranteed the best picture, even in the poorest reception areas.
Prices started at $279, which, according to this inflation calculator, works out to over $2900 in 2021 dollars.
Seventy years ago this month, the July 1951 issue of Popular Mechanics gave some pointers on how to safely do some repairs to your television. The magazine noted that sets were much more complex than radios, but even inexperienced owners were often able to bring a radio set back to life by swapping tubes, and there was no reason that they couldn’t do the same thing with a television.
Of course, the first step was to make sure you knew which tube went in which socket, and the magazine provided sources for this information. The second issue was the high voltages, which could prove lethal, and the magazine noted how to make sure the capacitors were discharged before tackling the job.
If the picture tube had to be replaced, one important safety factor to keep in mind was that the tube could implode if dropped, sending chards of glass all over the room. As shown above, when doing this delicate job, it was important to wear gloves and safety goggles. To dispose of the old tube, it was put in the box in which the new one came. Then, it was taken to the back yard, and a crowbar was used to smash it to smithereens inside the box, so it didn’t risk implosion when the garbage man hauled it away.
Fifty years ago, this young woman was doing something one wouldn’t have dared doing in the first decades of television–she was watching it in the pool. In the 1950s or 60s, this would have been a highly reckless thing to do, since the high voltages involved could have lethal consequences if they came into contact with water. But by the 1970s, the art had progressed to the point where battery operated televisions were available. And the July 1971 issue of Popular Mechanics contained a review of the available offerings, penned by prolific electronics writer Len Buckwalter (who has appeared here many times previously).
Buckwalter starts by noting that the “portable” TV had been around for a long time, but it had an AC power cord and weighed up to 90 pounds. The only concession to portability was the handle slapped on top as an afterthought. But now, there were true portables hitting the market: Sets that ran off batteries and/or 12 volts, and weighing as little as 2 pounds, although the average was 15-20. There were even two color sets hitting the market, and prices started at under $100.
There were still power requirements, and most of the battery sets used rechargeable batteries. Those were good for only a couple of hundred recharge cycles, so he cautioned that for viewing outside, it would be wise to install a power outlet. Some of the very small sets used standard flashlight batteries, but most had a special rechargeable power pack. In some cases, it was built in, but in others, it was a separate unit, which made the set more compact when the battery was not necessary, such as in a car or boat.
A few of the samplings are shown at the left. At the top was Heathkit’s offering, which sold for $124.95, and could be put together in 15-20 hours. The detachable base of this set, the GR104A, contained the batteries.
Below that was the Symphonic 3-incher, with a built-in cassette recorder and AM-FM radio. Below that, for the well heeled, was Hitachi’s 12 inch color set, which sold for $369.95. Below that was a Panasonic 5-inch model whose screen folded away when not in use. It also contained an AM-FM radio.
Seventy years ago, these Philadelphia television technicians made the cover of the May 1951 issue of Radio Electronics by their ambitious service of converting small screen television to larger tubes. The magazine carried a feature penned by their boss, Larry Oebbecke of Philadelphia Television Service Corp., 19011 W. Cheltenham Ave, Philadelphia, who reported that the job could be profitable “if you know what you are doing.” He reported that his shop had been doing the work for about a year, and averaged 25-35 sets per week.
Some sets were simply not good candidates for conversion, and the author identified many. He stressed the importance of taking good notes when doing the jobs. The first conversion of a particular model might not be profitable, but armed with good notes, subsequent jobs would be much simpler. Also, the jobs required cutting a new front panel, so saving the templates was key to doing the job economically. Normally, the job would take one technician 6-10 hours to complete. In general, 7 inch sets weren’t worth the trouble to convert, since a new set would wind up being cheaper. But larger sets could be upgraded to 14, 16, 19, and 20 inch screens. Older sets with round tubes could get a more modern look with the newer rectangular tubes.
The shop provided a 90 day warranty on the conversion work, and a one year guarantee on the tube itself. The author noted that the guarantee did not extend to parts of the set on which no conversion work had been done.
There was a time when, if you wanted to change the channel on the television, you had to get up and turn the knob on the set. Attempts at overcoming this shortcoming date back to the early days of television. And in 1951, if the entrepreneurial TV serviceman wanted to sell a valuable service to his customers, he could offer a remote tuner such as the one shown here. The May 1951 issue of Service magazine explains everything that needs to be done, and it’s clear that it would be a lot of work.
All of the coils would need to be removed from one unused channel in the set, and replaced with a coaxial cable running to the output of the remote tuner. But it wasn’t quite that simple. The remote tuner would need an antenna input of its own, and it might require a separate preamp. And if the customer wanted to adjust the contrast or volume, that would require additional wiring.
But once done, the customer would be able to change channels from the comfort of his easy chair, a luxury unknown to most people.
Seventy five years ago, the cover of the May 1946 issue of Radio News showed the busy studio of GE’s pioneer television station, WRGB, Schenectady, New York. The magazine noted that between 1939 and September 1944, the station had telecast 958 talent shows like the one depicted here.
There was a time when people dressed up to watch television, and 70 years ago was one of those times, as shown by this ad from the May 1951 issue of Radio & Television Retailing magazine. This viewer obviously lived in a fringe area, and the signal wasn’t quite strong enough to produce a good picture. This was solved with the addition of a Regency booster, a preamplifier that went in the line between the antenna and TV.
In particular, the booster appears to be Regency’s model DB-410A.
This gentleman, shown on the cover of the April 1951 issue of Popular Mechanics, is a lot braver than I am, but he was a critical part of the radio-TV industry.
Since TV and FM signals require line of sight propagation, antennas need to be up high, and steeplejacks were the men who made sure they were up there. According to the magazine, some of the employees were old timers used to working jobs up high, but some were young men. There were few accidents, because the one thing all workers had in common was that they could have only one accident.
In New York, the 1250 foot Empire State Building had just grown 222 feet with the installation of the antennas for five New York TV stations. The idea was to eliminate ghosts and extend the range 50 miles.
The magazine pointed out that the building came with a “spike” originally designed as a mooring spot for Transatlantic dirigibles. It came in handy providing a solid base for the antennas.
By 1951, TV had become a way of life in major cities, but rural communities lagged. But rural areas were working hard to have the magic of television. We previously explained the herculean efforts which brought TV to Marathon, Ontario. The March 1951 issue of Radio & Television News showed the system put in place in the Panther Valley of Pennsylvania, starting with the town of Lansford, Pennsylvania. The town was 75 miles away from the Philadelphia stations, and had the added problem of having a mountain in the way. In fact, rural residents of Summit Hill, just a mile away from the town, had TV, but the residents of the larger town did not.
The radio dealers in town, eager to be able to start selling TV, decided to take action. A test was run by putting an antenna on the hill and running a coaxial cable into town. The test was successful, and the system was built, as described in the magazine. The system was able to pull in three Philadelphia stations, WPTZ, channel 3, WFIL, channel 6, and WCAU, channel 10.
Fortunately, the cable was allowed on utility poles, and a legal inquiry confirmed that the franchise would not need to be regulated as a public utility. Another legal opinion was obtained from the FCC that no licensing was required. The system was originally envisioned as a nonprofit, but the bankers balked and insisted that the system be operated on a for-profit basis before financing was forthcoming.
Shown here 75 years ago this month in the February 1946 issue of Radio Retailing is one Mr. O. Winter, principal of an unnamed Chicago high school, along with some of his students. This is probably the first time any of them had seen television, and they are watching a special telecast over WBKB, put on by the Radio Manufacturers Association.
The young woman at the left appears to be excited by the advent of the television age, while the young woman at the right appears somewhat skeptical of the new medium. Below, three more students take in the experience. The young women seem to have dressed for the occasion, while the young man treats the occasion decidedly more casually.
