When “Dr.” Ernest C. Augsten entered the radio business in Hartford, CT, in about 1938, he realized that there were so many others in the field that he had to make himself stand out. So he decided to try a different angle, and make his shop at 714 Maple Avenue a Radio Hospital.

The dealership was featured in the August 1944 issue of Radio Retailing, which revealed that he employed one Nurse, his wife, who received the patients and maintained their records. His two interns assisted in operations.

Dr. Augsten wore a stethoscope, which he used on occasion in diagnosing a set. The article also explained how a hypodermic needle (filled with carbon tetrachloride) was used for cleaning a dirty part, and a scalpel was used for jobs such as loudspeaker repair. The ambulance was largely grounded for the duration, due to wartime gas and tire rationing. But before the war, when the ambulance was sent out to pick up a set, it was typically carried out in a stretcher.

This usually caused a crowd to gather, and invariably a member of that crowd had a set at home in need of repair.

Dr. Augsten had been licensed as a ham as early as 1924, as shown by this callbook listing, with callsign 1BFU.

Interns Cliff Islieb and Russ Johnston working on patients with a hypodermic syringe and scalpel.

These wartime burglars, shown in the July 1944 issue of Radio Craft, know where the good loot is, and it’s inside the radio, in the form of the tubes. Much to the consternation of radio owners and servicemen, many needed tubes were hard to come by.

The prices were reasonable, if you could get them. This is because of wartime price caps, as shown in this table in the same issue of the magazine. The 12SA7 that these crooks were about to nab had a maximum price of $1, but they knew that it would fetch more on the black market.

Seventy-five years ago this month, the cover of the July 1944 issue of Radio & Television Retailing showed this scene of downtown Westfield, MA, specifically, Supreme Radio Service, 28 Main Street.  The store’s owner was Joseph R. Davich, who had gotten his start in radio at the age of fourteen, when he built sets “using a piece of coal or potato for a detector.” He reportedly also had a spark transmitter with a range of about six miles. He had been in the radio business since 1932, and had expanded into both large and small appliances in 1935.

With wartime consumer manufacturing shut down, Davich had sold his last radio in the fall of 1943. Washers and ranges were soon also out of stock for the duration. The service business continued, but all of his regular technicians had departed, four to the armed forces, one to teaching, and one to a war plant. “Not a man of prejudices, but concerned solely with getting the work done, Davich is willing to train women, if they are interested and willing to learn.” His most recent protege was a 17 year old gird who had just graduated from high school.

The store’s record department was holding its own during the war under the management of a young woman. The magazine noted that records were paying the rent, with service completing the volume. Davich also had a government subcontract to produce plastic radio parts for submarine detector radar equipment. This contract employed five to eight men.

If the New England church steeple looks slightly out of place in the picture, well, that’s because it is.  A modern view of the shop from Google street view.  The 1944 radio shop is in the spot where the Rovithis Realty sign is, and the building next door is very distinctive.  But there’s no church steeple in the modern view.  But this isn’t because the church isn’t there.  It’s actually located a half block away.  It’s actually the steeple of the First Congregational Church, as shown in the modern image at the right.  Apparently, the magazine editors took a bit of artistic license and “photoshopped” in the nearby steeple.