3:30 in the morning comes early- but, such is the life of the crack (of dawn) dedicated Russ' Old Radio Repair team, bleary-eyed Russ and Sue. Although some people may believe “Orygone” consists of only one town, there are actually two, PORTLAND and (wait for it) MEDFORD!  Quick geography lesson; Portland is at the top of the state , Medford the bottom. This provides a much needed balance--to keep the state from slipping off into the Pacific Ocean--and a political one.

As it happens, we do not dwell in the northern city, PORTLAND. We live near the state's southern city, MEDFORD. Unfortunately, since most of residents live at the northern end, many events occur there.   It's not unusual for us to raise and shine (but barely dazzle) early in the am,  to attend events or beat out ambitious Craig's Listers for radios. Such was the case yesterday when we attended, The Northwest Vintage Radio Society (NWVRS) show in Aurora, Oregon - a suburb of PORTLAND. 

Met the cutest little dog, a Maltese that weighed in at three-and-a-half pounds. His "Mom" cuddled him close to her chest. If she moved, he'd re-arrange himself, crossing the small legs that dangled beneath him. When "Mama" handed him over for a hug, he felt like a feather. I'm accustomed to hefting Fuzzy and Woolley; they challenge the vet's scale at over twenty pounds each! 

The NWVRS event is always is interesting. It's like a Almond Joy versus Mounds, "Sometimes you get a good radio, sometimes you don't." The fun is in the pursuit. On this particular occasion--thanks to an unplanned for half-an-hour gas stop due to a broken credit card machine--we arrived late. Just like with garage or estate sales, it's best to get there early 'cause the good stuff tends to sprout wings and fly. But, we got the Jackson Bell, and Russ found some thingamajigs and  several whatchamacallits. If the day ended here, we would have been happy- but it didn't.

I'll tell you.  We hit a "sometimes you don't".  We decided to continue north to the City of Portland. A guy advertised on Craig's List he had five radios.  He e-mailed.  "Yes, I still have all five of them...The radios are in very nice shape. I don't think you'll be disappointed." We drove the sixty-mile round trip--out of our way--to take a look. There were five wood, breadbox radios; the cabinets looked to be in fair shape. Russ opened the lid of the first one. "Humm." He tried the second, then third, fourth and fifth. "That's interesting, all the globe tubes have been replaced by non-original tubes. Every single one." What an amazing  coincidence! "Think we'll pass- thanks."

Lunch, then next stop. We met a fellow at an I-5  (the major north-south freeway that connects the two "Orygone" towns) off-ramp. A nice, honest guy with a Vintage Howard radio. We chatted with him for awhile, thanked him for his time, but decided the radio would be more work than it was worth.

We proceeded southward, calling another party about a RCA Victor R-52, however we were unable to reach him.

"I've got an idea," Russ said. "Remember the guy we bought the movie-dial, tall-boy console from 'bout three years ago?" Russ had fixed it up, but we had to sell it. The Old Radio Museum bulged at the beams.

"No." I can remember what I had last night for dinner. Russ has a wonderful memory. I use it often.

"He said if we ever decided to sell it, to please let him know. Let's stop by his house, since it's on the way home."

"Okay." We did. He wasn't home, so Russ left a note and his card.

The message blinked when we arrived home. Sure enough. "Consider it sold."

Russ not only has an memory--at times I wish he didn't have--but also incredible luck. We also received an e-mail, " What is funny is that I am in the process of turning the back half of that RV Garage into a pool room.  Your note coincides with my needing cool stuff for that space and it will be a great thing to have in there." 

Such a nice fellow. How appropriate the radio would be returned to it's owner--renovated with an MP3 player adaption. "Bet it will be the only Radiola 80 to ever play MP3's," Russ noted. Bet it will. ;)

Below is a photo of the old radio's original home.

So there you have it. A day in the life of Russ' Old Radio Repair. Enjoyed sharing it with you; hope you enjoyed it too!

Till next time...

Regards,

Sue
pholog's blog

"Cat Inspected and Wife Approved"
        1924  MU-1
GREBE  EARLY SYCOPHASE 
Gold plated dials
5 - 201 Tubes
NO CHAIN DRIVE

     Oh, what fun this proved to be! I not only learned new things about old radios, but I had the opportunity to witness and help restore a discarded beauty to her former self. Perhaps the two most important lesson I learned: Nothing is junk- unless you fail to see its potential.  And, never sell  yourself short. (Uh, excuse the pun).  Never assume you can't; the only can't that stopped anyone - not trying.     As I eluded to in this month's quote on our home page, ""If we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.  - Thomas Edison    Have fun.  Astound yourself.

     Thank you for all the interest in my project. I have enjoying sharing it with everyone. If anyone has a pet project they'd like to share with Russ' Old Radio Repair- we'd love to see it.

     Till next time- when, who knows what I'll be up to....Oh, by the way- the answer to the question, can you sand, finish, and re-sand a radio too many times? Is, apparently, no. ;)

Regards,

Sue

phlog's blog


ps. If you have read this--and like it--please remember to give : https://www.facebook.com/russoldradiorepair "BIG THUMBS  UP" on Facebook. We thank you.

UPDATE 12-16-2021
We now know the the Aetna model is 252P under Walgreens. It is a 4-tube  + ballast Tuned Radio Freq receiver from 1936. Most of the radios found in this cabinet are 550s, which is a superheterodyne rather than a TRF.  The super is relatively rare. The TRF is much more unusual.

Russ

     "Wonder what it is?"

     "What?"

     "The radio. I wonder who made it. It doesn't look like any Philco or Zenith or Atwater Kent or Emerson or..."

     "I get the idea."

     "You know what though?"

     "No, what though."

     "It sort of reminds me, of the Peter Pan radio."

     "Jackson Bell."

     "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

     "I don't."

     "Oh."

     "I'm gonna find out."

     "And, how are you going to do that? We've researched it; we couldn't find anything on it- just a schematic that resembled the chassis close enough we could fix it."

     "I'm going to ask people on Facebook. I betcha somebody will know."  So, that's what I did. I asked. By gosh, somebody did know. 

     "Russell, Russell," I went running to the shop as fast as I could. Excited, elated, on cloud 9, I nearly floated over the gravel path. "I...know...what...it...is!" I could hardly get the words out. "It's a 1936," I stopped to get a gulp of air, "...a 1936 Aetna Model 550. It's really rare and..." Pride erupted from every pore on my body. A smile the size of the piano lit up my face. I felt so great sharing the information, my ego could have inflated a hot air balloon.

     I waited. Russell took a look at the website that revealed--what I believed to be the key to solving the quandary--what radio we had. He looked carefully at the cabinet. "See! See! I told you!" He said nothing. He continued looking at the photos. I waited for his approval; for his confirmation that this fledging radio repair person had this one nailed.

     "That is not that radio."

     I felt my happiness balloon burst suddenly, as if poked by a sharp pin. "What!? How can you say that this isn't this radio?" I couldn't believe it. He must be able to see it, he's got his glasses on, I thought. "How can you say this," I pointed at the radio, "isn't that?" I motioned back to the website. Incredulous couldn't begin to express my dismay.

     "Simple." My mouth--and spirits--dropped as he continued. "I looked at the back of the  radio on the website. The Aetna 550 has two IF transformers. It's a superheterodyne." I picked my mouth up off the floor as he continued. "Yours is a TRF." 

     "Oh."

     "It's still a nice radio. It has the same cabinet as the 550, but it is a different model."

     "Hosers?"

     "No not hosers, it was made that way."

     Thus, this concluded this installment in the radio project. What did I learn? That things are not always what they seem to be. And, if in doubt, ask Russell.

Till next time, when we answer the question- is it possible to sand, refinish, sand, and refinish,. sand....a radio too many times?

Regards,

Sue

phlog's blog


Have you ever been fooled by the apparent appearance of a radio?

      After standing and looking with distain at the radio for a few minutes, we’re onto the next task- filter caps. Filter caps are not a generic item. We searched through a manual, a huge set of big green books, and the Internet, before we found the correct filter caps. Russ determined the radio had one ballast, and four tubes. More math! (YEECH.) Micro-ferrets? Sounded like some kind of itty-bitty, little critter to me. Wrong again. Russ figured we needed one @ 24 (450 volts), and one @10 (450 volts). Oh yeah, polarized.

     Got those installed; had to use the solder sucker to clean out the thrus on a couple. (See, told you I’m learning the jargon.) 

     Final and last step (phew). Install a new line cord (the thing that plugs into the wall). Russ pulled the line cord in half.

   “Are you getting frustrated with me?” He didn’t answer, he merely proceeded.

    “One end goes to the on/off switch, the other to the ballast. Only on an AC/DC radio.”

      I (for real) put the tubes back in, and the tube shields back on. The moment of truth had arrived.  We were ready to plug it in. “Is this the point we could get electrocuted?”

     “Not really. It’s safe. Because if it were really messed up, it’ll blow the circuit breaker.” 

     Now he tells me. 

     He pushes the plug into the outlet. FLASH. “Hosed.” That was it.  Just goes to prove- 
 I don’t have to touch anything to break it; I can just look at it.

     Till next time…when we (Russ) tries to figure out what went wrong. Can we get it working? Find out next time. Till then...


Regards,

Sue
Phlog’s blog

 
      If perfectionists were awarded medals, Russ would have stole the gold.

My hub's talent for fixing things is amazing. In the thirty-plus years we have been wed--I find it unbelievable that only on an extremely rare occasion have I ever been able to break something, he couldn't fix. This is outstanding for one simple reason: I can break almost anything. I don't even need to touch it, I can just look at it. Computers, toasters, microwaves, cars, boats, you name it. I can break it. No brag, just fact. With this knowledge, I'm sure you'll understand why I can recommend his work, If it's broke--if anyone can fix it--he can.

     This is particularly true in the field of electronics. He has dazzled me with his ability to "Breathe New Life Into Old Radios"  many times; that's what inspired our catch phrase. Rarely, does he deem any grande dame beyond hope. A bit of plastic surgery here, a rewound cap there. What sets him apart from nearly all others: He can not only fix the electronics of the old radios (every radio in the Old Radio Museum works because of his efforts); but he can renovate the cabinetry with the eye of an artist.

On this website, we have a Before and After page, It isn't a page that gets many hits, but I would highly recommend clicking on this link. (It's a slide show.)
http://www.russoldradiorepair.com/beforeafter.html
(It's noteworthy: Not only did Russ restore these old radios, he made every one work!)

So......there it is. I wanted everyone to know what an excellent job Russ does. (He wouldn't tell you; he's too shy.) But, I'm not! 

Hope you'll think of Russ' Old Radio Repair the next time you need/or want an old radio repaired, restored or perhaps would like to purchase one. There.

Till next time,

Regards (with a wink),

Best,

Sue
phlog's blog

ps. Too funny, When Russ discovered I blogged about him--told you he was shy-- he came up with an idea for a blog. Isn't that something? Soon to follow, I'll be blogging about an American Beauty--it truly is. Also, something made my day today.. more about that later.    Best, Sue

      Every time I walked by them, I felt bad. Had it been two years, maybe  three, that I'd dug up the irises; decided they were root-rotted, then tossed them onto the burn pile? At least that long. I recall my surprise the following spring when healthy green, blade-shaped stems sprung up from the soot and ashes. 
     The garden heap exists on a part of our tree farm far from any landscaping efforts. There were no well-groomed lawns or pampered perennials- only huge, old neglected oaks- surrounded by many years of shed leaves; and buckbrush starts  attempting to trump our land clearing efforts. It wasn't a place I went to- unless I wanted to discard the unwanted. 
      One fall, after digging the irises to divide them, I'd decided some of the rhizomes didn't look good,. They looked old- not worthy anymore. Perhaps they're infected with iris borers, I thought. I made the trek to the discard stack. Once there, I had given the rejected irises an grand heave-ho.

     How could the irises have survived the fires?  I'd  tucked the question in the back of my mind and there it stayed- until yesterday.

     Yesterday--although it rained heavily--I found myself toiling away at a newly conceived landscape project; it's purpose to enhance the entrance to the Old Radio Museum. (The Model A Club had scheduled a visit; I wanted to spiffy the grounds.) I had planted a few hardy primroses and heavenly-scented hyachinths, but the area still looked sparse. As I stood there, drenched in rain and knee-high in mud, I accessed the situation. I find gardening, like other outdoor activities, inspiring.  The answer--like the first daffodil up in the spring--came to me almost immediately. I knew what I needed to do.
     I grabbed the mud-encrusted shovel, and slogged through the wet ground to the burn pile. I dug around the dozen or so proud survivors, then extracted them from the fine black powder, careful not to injure their roots. The rhizomes appeared to be healthy; the pale roots exceeded a foot in length. 
     After planting the irises under the oaks, by the primroses and hyathcinths, I felt much better. I knew they belonged there. They had lived a long time and survived difficult circumstances; they deserved a good home. I picked up the barely recognizable trowel, shovel, black plastic plant pots, and threw them in the wheelbarrow.      
     When I looked up, as I lifted the flat-tired, conveyance's handles,  I saw the Old Radio Museum. I  knew why the antique pieces of electronics mattered--they, like the irises-- had earned, a special place in history. If not for their longevity, for their survival.

Has a revelation, such as this one, ever occurred to you? Love to hear about it.
Till next time.

 Regards,

Sue, phlog's blog

So here we are. We worked hard to get to this point, We realize we've been fortunate; we want to give something back. Here's what Russ' Old Radio Repair offers.