What the hell am I up to now?
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I always thought it would be fun to restore an old radio, so when I saw this one for sale I grabbed it. A Zenith model 10-S-156, it was built in 1937. When I found it it was in the corner of a parlor in a large old Victorian home, and apparently had been there for a long long time. The cabinet was faded on one side from sitting in decades of sun, and there was a little cosmetic damage, but it was mostly intact, and I I didn't even have to replace any of the vacuum tubes (the "10" in the model number denotes the use of ten tubes). I gave everything a good cleaning, soldered on a new power cable, replaced a few odds and ends, and rubbed on a new finish, and it was as good as new. Zenith made some great radios, and the 10-S series had some good features for its day. The dial lights up brilliantly, and it has a "bull's-eye" tuner that indicates signal strength with a black dot in a series of concentric circles. It picks up AM, short-wave, and police/amateur/aviation bands. The police and aviation bands aren't used anymore, but I can still pick up several short-wave stations from all over the world. Soon I hope to get a small AM transmitter so I can broadcast old-time radio shows from my computer through the radio. If the FCC ever switches over to digital radio, it might be the only way to enjoy these old gems. |
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"Victrola" was the name given to a series of hand-cranked phonographs produced in the early 20th-century by the Victor Talking Machine Company. Other companies made similar machines, but only Victor machines were Victrolas. This machine is the grandfather of the hi-fi most people my age are familiar with, and works on similar principles. Put a needle on the grooves of a spinning record and the vibrations make sound. The difference is that the music played on this machine, from recording room to living room, was made without electricity. Musicians in a studio played in front of a large cone that ended in a vibrating needle etching grooves into a master record. At home, the purchased records spun on turntables driven by springs wound with the hand crank. The needle transferred vibrations from the grooves up through the hollow tone arm, and down into the horn behind the top set of doors. Opening and closing the doors controlled the volume. Simple, but before phonographs the only way to get prerecorded music into the home was with a player piano, which had obvious limitations. I purchased this machine in Rhode Island. It was in decent shape, and was filled with records, mostly the old shellac kind (vinyl didn't come into widespread use until the 1940's, when the Japanese took over the south pacific countries where lac beetles were harvested). Some of the record sleeves had rips patched with old food stamps, and the instruction manual is, from a modern technical writer's perspective, quaint, to say the least. |
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Kitchen Painted, Destroyed, then Painted Again After a year and a half of saying we'd paint the kitchen, we finally did it. We also took out the old wainscoting, which was painted wood paneling, and replaced it with beadboard. The old brass drawer pulls were replaced with brushed nickel, and the ugly rubber kickboard was replaced with extra kitchen tiles. Note: The website we were using to post the renovation slideshow shut down recently, so regrettably the pictures are not available for public viewing at this time. |
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Early 50's Roadmaster Back when huge, sleek steel Plymouths and Mercury's trolled the streets, just before rockets and jets started to influence automotive and industrial design, bicycles like these ruled the sidewalks. In a few years fins started appearing on cars, and lighter-weight Raleigh 3-speeds and Schwinn middleweights would start to dominate the bicycle market, and the old ballon-tire bikes would start their decline. But in 1950, years before Sputnik, and just before the start of the Korean War, Americans were enjoying their fifth year of peace following WWII, and for many that enjoyment would come in the form of a new bicycle. During the war bicycle manufacturers, like car makers, stopped producing new models, and after the war they resumed right where they had left off. For bicycles, that meant heavy single-speed bikes with fat tires. The top of the line models had horn tanks, lights and maybe a springer fork. I picked this one up from a guy in Lynn. It's exact age is uncertain but little details make me think it was built in 1950-1952. It's in excellent condition, and will not require much in the way of restoration. Check back in the coming months for updates. |
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Reading Chair This chair is a classic example of how one man's trash is another's treasure. I first saw it around the corner and down the street from our house, where someone had put it out for the trash. It was in rough shape; the painted wood was faded to bare, and the '50's pink vinyl was a light gray, but it's classic Eames-era lines and design caught my eye. I left it on the street the first two times I went by, but after thinking about it for a day or two I drove down one morning and tossed it in the back of the MINI. After getting an estimate of $250 from a reupholster, I decided I'd get some new vinyl and handle it myself. The fabric has a couple wrinkles in it, but overall I think it turned out great. Then I just sanded and refinished the arms and legs and put it back together. It's a simple design, and is very comfortable. All in all it was a fun, quick projet with good results (see before and after photos). It remains in the cellar for now, however, as we have no place to put it. |
