Shown here are just a few examples of how fun in the summer of 1940 could be augmented with this handy portable receiver, as described in the June 1940 issue of Popular Mechanics. The set ran off a commercially available (at least until the war came along) combination A/B battery which would allow the set to be run on trains, boats, camps, summer homes, or the lawn for up to 200 hours. Provision was made for an external antenna, but the set’s internal loop antenna would pull in signals from up to 100 miles away, and 1500 miles at night.

Parts for the four-tube superhet were said to cost about $7.50, not including the battery and case.

Seventy-five years ago this month, there was a clear sense that the war would soon be over, and business as usual would return to Main Street. The June 1945 issue of Radio Retailing offered on its cover this example of Radio Sales Corp., 327 Milburn Ave., Milburn, N.J. The owner, Milton Marks, declared that the dealer with the best sales argument and best-equipped organization would get the business in the competitive postwar market. He further stated that “catch as catch can” merchandising would be catastrophic.

Marks was getting ready to throw his merchandising of radios and appliances into high gear. He kept a priority book of customers who really intended to buy and genuinely needed new appliances, and those customers would get the first shipments in the order received.

His store focused on providing excellent service and honest dealing. He reported spending about $750 per year on newspaper advertising, and an additional $100 on scholastic advertising, which he noted was a builder of goodwill.

As seen in the Google streetview below, the block is still clearly recognizable. In fact, the old Radio Sales Corporation location is currently vacant. Perhaps a modern electronics retailer wants to move in and take advantage of some of that old goodwill.

This wartime circuit from the May 1945 issue of Radio Craft is about as simple as it gets. It was sent in to the magazine by Jim Brophy of Chicago, who reported that it gave good volume on all of the local stations.

What’s somewhat remarkable–in addition to the low part count–is the fact that the set used two flashlight batteries for the filaments, and only three penlight cells for the “B” battery. The low voltage requirement was due to the space-charge principle. The grid closest to the cathode in the tetrode tube (in this case, a type 49) was kept at a positive voltage. The magazine’s editors noted that this was one of the oldest effects in tetrode tubes, but had dropped into obscurity. But with wartime shortages of B batteries, the magazine noted that it was worth some experimentation.

The name of the person who submitted the idea, Brophy, rang a bell.  It doesn’t sound like a very common name, but also in 1945, one Loretta Brophy was working at WABD-TV in New York.

Yesterday, we showed a Hallicrafters “morale” receiver from 1945, and today, we see this ad for another one, from the May 1945 issue of Radio News.  This femme fatale has taken an interest in this soldier, and it’s not out of the question that she’s a spy.  Fortunately, she won’t get anything out of him, because all he does is sing the praises of the Ecophone Model EC-1 morale receiver.

He’ll tell her that the set is a compact communications receiver with every necessary feature for good reception, and that it tuned from 550 kHz to 30 MHz in 3 bands.  He’ll let slip that it has an electrical bandspread, six tubes, a built-in speaker, and that it runs off 115-125 volts AC or DC.  But since none of that was classified, the Army had nothing to fear.

Shown here is the Hallicrafters Model RE-1 Sky Courier receiver from 1945. For the G.I. far from home, the radio was as important as mail call in staying connected with home. Early in the war, whatever receiver could be found was pressed into service, but the harsh conditions meant that the military needed a rugged “morale” set, and the RE-1 was the answer.

The set could operate from batteries (90 and 9 volts) or AC power. The method for switching was ingenious. To switch to battery operation, the line cord was inserted into a jack in the back of the radio. The prongs of the cord completed two circuits, and thus served as a DPDT switch, connecting the batteries. The set tuned 550-1600 kHz and 2.8-19 MHz, and contained a built-in antenna.

Above all the set was rugged, and was designed to resist both corrosion and fungus.

The picture and description appeared in the May 1945 issue of Radio News.

This three-tube shortwave set from the May 1945 issue of Popular Mechanics was designed around wartime parts shortages, and the magazine touted that it could be assembled entirely out of odds and ends of salvaged materials. The gentleman at left is shown scavenging parts from a discarded radio. Despite the low tube count, the set would pull in shortwave stations from around the world and fill the room with loudspeaker volume. It featured a 6C8-G as regenerative detector, 6K6-GT audio amplifier, and 6X5-GT rectifier. Plug-in coils allowed a tuning range of 160-19 meters. The magazine advised that the set was designed specifically for the short waves, and that the builder was advised not to try and alter it to tune the standard broadcst band.

The filaments were powered from a 6 volt transformer, and the B+ came straight from the AC line, with the familiar “hot chassis” design, and the familiar caution not to hook the chassis directly to ground.

Shown here, in the April 1945 issue of Radio Age, is a musical score by Dmitri Shostakovich, sent from Moscow to New York via radio facsimile, and performed by the NBC Symphony Orchestra.

We wrote previously about Canadian airman Brian Hodgkinson.  He was a former announcer for CKY Winnipeg, and was a German POW for most of the War. After the war, he moved to the United States where he was an announcer for WHK, WERE, and WDOK in Cleveland.

75 years ago this month, CKY’s program guide, Manitoba Calling, April 1945, carried this letter from a fellow POW:

Paris, 30 December, 1944.
Sir,
I would be very grateful to you if you could put me in touch with Brian Hodgkinson’s family. This request may appear somewhat indiscreet. Here is a brief exposé of the reasons which motivate my request.
We met in Stalag VII a in Germany, where, for many months, we were together and we became great friends. We were separated in the summer of 1942 following camp changes.
I had the luck of returning to France a year ago where I am enjoying absolute liberty, following the exploits of your armed forces and those of your allies. I would therefore be very happy to receive news of my gi and comrade, and he having communicated his address to
Radio Winnipeg, I, in turn, am taking the liberty of addressing myself to you.
I offer my excuses for having written you in French, but my knowledge of the English language is so restricted that it does not permit my use of it.
With my most heartfelt thanks, 1 offer you. sir, my distinguished salutations and the greetings of a Frenchman -friend and admirer of the Canadian people.
Lucien Villatte,
107 Rue du Chevaleret,
Paris 13, France.

Hodgkinson’s memoir of his days during the war, Spitfire Down, was published after his death.  The book is not available in the United States, but used copies are available at a reasonable price on Amazon.  In Canada, it’s also available at Amazon.ca.

We previously featured the Radiomarine Corporation of America’s model ET-8030 lifeboat radio. While the set was never deployed during the war, it was featured in the April 1945 issue of Radio Age, a quarterly magazine published by RCA. It is featured on the cover of the magazine, being operated by cadets at the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, Kings Point, N.Y..

The set, permanently mounted in the lifeboat, operated with a hand crank which provided the power and keyed the transmitter. In the automatic mode, the set would send a long dash and SOS on 500 kHz and 8280 kHz. It could also be switched into the manual mode, which allowed voice transmission, and included a receiver for both 500 kHz and 8100-8600 kHz. The set could be used with an inveted vee antenna mounted to the boat’s mast, but the most prominent feature was a helium balloon which could hoist the antenna to height of 300 feet and keep it there for a week. As a backup, a box kite was also provided.