SPARES!

Radio Record, Volume III, Issue 45, 23 May 1930, Page 8

SPARES!

A Story of Yore

"HIS is it," said my friend, jabbing a forefinger in the direction of an impressive affair which might well have been an escritoire with handwarmers. For years Leo had dabbled about anodynes (I think that’s the word) and whistling valves, though why one should go to the expense of paying pounds to hear a valve which could whistle was beyond me. It still is, for that matter. Leo Power was the most aggressive set owner I ever met. I mean, he wouldn’t tune in stations g-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y; he liked them to blow in upon him as suddenly as they blew out. The doctors afterwards discovered the poor fellow suffered from chronic dialitis, but that seems like burying a chap before he was born.... "Tt’s an impressive gadget, isn’t it?" he asked. Long and spindle-shaped legs, inlaid panels and a profusion of dials gave one a hazy recollection of having seen something like it at the pictures, until suddenly I remembered. At the same time as recollection dawned I noticed Power’s neat little allelectric farther along the same wall. "But what’s the idea of introducing the Wurlitzer into the home, Leo? Youw’re not thinking of taking one of those Yankee correspondence courses in the thing, are you? Why not the electric?’ "Well, you see, the man in the flat downstairs can’t get this battery sixvalver to function, and when he heard I owned a similar one in Christchurch he asked me to--"’ "Yes, but where are the pedals?" I replied. "Pedals?" "Yes, that’s a yellitzer. Now, isn’t it, Leo?" ; OR years he and I had waged argument long and wordy around the respective virtues of radio and gramophone, so it was not with surprise that be grunted something inaudible as he shot his cuffs and commenced five-fin-ger exercises with the tuning knobs.

Just then another friend came: along the beach (Power’s flat almost flanked the water’s edge), so I called him in to hear, or as it turned out, see and hear things. Nor was he disappointed. Sitting back comfortably in our chairs, our eardrums were nearly split in two by a most agonising "Ow-00-ow-ow ..." which seemed to leap from the inlaid thingummy which trembled and yowled beneath the fingers of its operator. "What ever’s that?" inquired the man in the other armchair. "That? Oh, that’s nothing, m’boy. I’m just warming her up. Sydney’ll roar in very soon. Why, the one I had in Christchurch, .. ? The subsequent reminiscence devoured nearly fifteen minutes, punctuated by unearthly grunts and noises. Undoubtedly (we surmised) 2YA was taking the squeal out of the pig, since nothing short of a "mike" in the middle of a bacon factory would (or could) capture such aural agony. Suddenly: "Love, here is my heart .." At least, that, I feel sure, was the singer’s intention. Instead, we two listeners heard, "Love, here is my glog-glog, glog, whoo-ee, whoo-ee, 000000," rising to a shrill scream. Leo was plunging wildly at the dials of the infernal machine in front of himtwiddling, coaxing, but to no purpose. In fact, the demons in the box doubled and redoubled the volume of their outcries. "Try the pedals, Leo," I ventured. "What pedals?" he snarled above the shrieks of a myriad djins who sounded

as though they were tearing the set to pieces. "On the yellitzer,’ I shouted bank. "And what about the stops, too?" But the jeer was lost in the whirl of valve anguish, and our laughter at Power’s frantic searching for the stations which were there-and yet were not. I) two watchers were in a state of semi-collapse when at length the operator left the set, to hurl himself ut us. We were helpless with aftereffects of sustained mirth-too weak to flinch even at the jabs which found their marks. Next day he handed, or rather lifted, the set to the man-in-the-flat-down-stairs-inlaid panels, dials, wires, connections, plugs, valves, howls and all. In the evening.we went across to hear

ee ee ll his all-electric. Whether he was more familiar with his own set, or whether the owner of the battery six had overhauled HIS, then found he had some parts to spare after reassembling, I am not prepared to swear, but there is no question that we DID hear something we could recognise as a tune. Within the following week my conscience (it may have been sheer stubborn bias) toyed and argued with the prospect of a radio set in the house. No, I said to myself, you’re not "sold" on the subject-better leave it alone, for a while, anyway. On Friday afternoon I bought a new gramophone record, partly to stifle my conviction, perhaps in defiance of true judgment. I was walking through the city when I met Power, who immediately acquainted me with the news of a new all-electric, etcetera. You probably recollect the aged story concerning the last straw and a camel? Well, I bought one (I mean a radio set) that night, and I must confess that with both radio and gramophone my conscience is now placidly scanning the musical situation. One thing more. If at any time you feel jaded, and want to see "the greatest show on earth," drop me a line. JI’ll have Leo Power delivered with that battery six, right to your door. Perhaps, though, it’s owner has found in the meantime where those

spare parts beling.

R.B.

S.

NOPE ETE TE TT Tynwald Day Manx Items at 2YA z "THE sacred day of the people of the Isle of Man, Tynwald Day, which falls on July 5, will . be commemorated by a special programme at 2YA. Manx songs will be sung and a talk will be given by Mr. T. E. Corkhill, President of the Manx Society. CE MT Tt TUE Peat Gere ee ee TU EE