Short Wave and Television Magazine, August 1937
"Broadcast from Speeding Iceboat a Thrill"
In radio's early days, magazines such as this February, 1937 issue of
Short Wave and Television delighted in portraying radios
in motion—used in cars, trains, boats, on horseback, you name it.
The cover painting shows a daring sports announcer broadcasting from
a speeding iceboat, of all things. The idea was that his backpack transmitter
would send descriptions of the race to a nearby receiver, which would
then retransmit the play-by-play by wire or microwave to a central
broadcasting station, for the enjoyment of the radio public.
Yes, it's a bit of a stretch, and there's no hint that iceboat
racing was ever described in this fashion. However, the cover brings to
life the ferment of ideas that typifies magazines of this era.
This is Your Brain on Television
By the late 1930s, interest in television had reached a fever pitch,
and the former Short Wave Craft magazine, of which you can
view several examples in our Literature
section, became Short Wave and Television.
This issue has several television articles, including
Lesson 1 of "Television Course" by George Eckhardt, author of the book
Electronic Television. His article includes this
charming diagram that shows, in simplified form, how
an electronic television dissects an image into a series
of lines, "as though the picture were cut into strips
cemented to a ribbon."
Perhaps some day I'll run across a copy of Eckhardt's book. He did a
pretty decent job of explaining technical concepts to a popular audience.
Let's Hear it for Mechanical Television!
Elsewhere in this issue is a guest
article by Lee de Forest, a pioneer of commercial radio, although not,
in my opinion, the greatest technical mind of his time. Some people
believe that de Forest didn't truly understand the operation of
the radio tube that made him famous.
De Forest's editorial offers a sharp counterpoint to
the lesson about electronic television. In it, he stoutly declares
that "cathodic" television is a complete failure. In his
words, "It is increasingly apparent that fifteen million
odd dollars, spent in cathodic research, have gone wrong!"
"Only a mechanical scanning system," he states,
can meet the unavoidable requirements of commercial television
broadcasting.
Mechanical TV was superior, in his view, because it
would deliver highly detailed images at reasonable cost,
unlike the fantastically expensive electronic system.
His final paragraph warns, "It remains then for the sapient
directors to recall their engineers from their blind-alley
and to set them out upon the logically sensible track. The sooner
this is done the earlier we may expect to see Television in
the Home."
History soon showed de Forest's prediction to be almost
comically wrong. Mechanical scanning television never
progressed beyond crude, low-resolution images and
it relied on cranky gizmos that were costly
and hard to maintain.
Mechanical TV was the true blind alley, in short.
Less than 10 years after this article appeared,
all-electronic television had become dominant,
in the essential form that we use today.
In fairness, perhaps we shouldn't be too quick to scoff at
de Forest. With the benefit of 70 years of hindsight, we can
clearly see which solution was most practical. At the time he
was writing, however, our modern TV system was a functioning
reality but not yet a commercial success.
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