Post by Steve on Oct 6, 2022 23:27:49 GMT 12
This is about a radio I did back when I first got lacquer and didn't know what I was doing, I had never sprayed a cabinet with it before. Chassis' generally presented no problems, but cabinets were reasonably new territory at the time. I figured the best thing to do was practice on an old set I had no real attachment to, in case I screwed up. So I selected a Columbus model 45 from the restoration queue as it was plain, and the cabinet was a nice simple design. I had no intention at the time of restoring the whole set, and figured I would do the cabinet, learn a few simple skills and then sell it as-is.
However, when done, the cabinet looked (to me, anyway) a million dollars - I felt like I had got it just right, and I was very pleased with myself, and the results. In fairness, looking back it wasn't all that great, but I was still pretty happy with it at the time. At the same time a little annoyed because now I couldn't leave the chassis as it was - I had to finish the job.
So I walked into the workshop and picked up the chassis to put it on the bench, and somehow managed to stand on the power cord at the same time... As I swivelled around to place the set on the bench, the cord came tight, and it was wrenched from my grip and fell to the floor. Now, these sets are not known for their impact resistance. The dial drums are plastic - mine was now in several pieces. The valves are glass, and that's all I need to say about that. The speaker is mounted to the chassis and this and the dial took the brunt of the impact, twisting both beyond hope of recovery, and the dial glass became a three-piece unit. Much more compact, but not much use any more.
I was horrified - I consider part of the restoration work I do to be saving these sets for future generations, and here I was destroying one. And not only that, but one I had decided I needed to save. I had a perfect cabinet, but nothing to go inside. Fortunately I was able to trade a spare chassis from another collector, and I very carefully carried this into my workshop where I turned it upside down to put on the bench for servicing. At this point I figure the gods of radio restoration either have a very warped sense of humour, or they just didn't want me to bother - because the dial glass, apparently only loosely fitted in the assembly, slipped out and became three more pieces!
If I had ever come close to tears over a radio, it was probably then. I vividly recall turning and walking to the door, turning out the light and going inside for a quiet reflective ale. It was several days before I even went back in there.
When I returned to the chassis, I figured I should still restore it and seek out a replacement (replacement) dial glass. One was found on an online auction, and purchased, and while waiting for it to arrive I started replacing capacitors and generally getting the set running.
The set would not make sound when first powered up - I eventually tracked it down to the output valve, an N78, which had an open heater. A new-old-stock one of these was ordered and fitted, at which point the power transformer suddenly got very hot. At the same time, the N78 flared up a very bright blue colour, and the whole set stopped again.
By this point, I was done. It had beaten me. A set I had never wanted to restore in the first place had finally convinced me I was right the first time. I put the chassis inside the case, and sold it. Shortly after the dial glass showed up in the mail, snapped neatly in two - proving, beyond reasonable doubt, that the set should never have been touched. By me, anyway.
However, when done, the cabinet looked (to me, anyway) a million dollars - I felt like I had got it just right, and I was very pleased with myself, and the results. In fairness, looking back it wasn't all that great, but I was still pretty happy with it at the time. At the same time a little annoyed because now I couldn't leave the chassis as it was - I had to finish the job.
So I walked into the workshop and picked up the chassis to put it on the bench, and somehow managed to stand on the power cord at the same time... As I swivelled around to place the set on the bench, the cord came tight, and it was wrenched from my grip and fell to the floor. Now, these sets are not known for their impact resistance. The dial drums are plastic - mine was now in several pieces. The valves are glass, and that's all I need to say about that. The speaker is mounted to the chassis and this and the dial took the brunt of the impact, twisting both beyond hope of recovery, and the dial glass became a three-piece unit. Much more compact, but not much use any more.
I was horrified - I consider part of the restoration work I do to be saving these sets for future generations, and here I was destroying one. And not only that, but one I had decided I needed to save. I had a perfect cabinet, but nothing to go inside. Fortunately I was able to trade a spare chassis from another collector, and I very carefully carried this into my workshop where I turned it upside down to put on the bench for servicing. At this point I figure the gods of radio restoration either have a very warped sense of humour, or they just didn't want me to bother - because the dial glass, apparently only loosely fitted in the assembly, slipped out and became three more pieces!
If I had ever come close to tears over a radio, it was probably then. I vividly recall turning and walking to the door, turning out the light and going inside for a quiet reflective ale. It was several days before I even went back in there.
When I returned to the chassis, I figured I should still restore it and seek out a replacement (replacement) dial glass. One was found on an online auction, and purchased, and while waiting for it to arrive I started replacing capacitors and generally getting the set running.
The set would not make sound when first powered up - I eventually tracked it down to the output valve, an N78, which had an open heater. A new-old-stock one of these was ordered and fitted, at which point the power transformer suddenly got very hot. At the same time, the N78 flared up a very bright blue colour, and the whole set stopped again.
By this point, I was done. It had beaten me. A set I had never wanted to restore in the first place had finally convinced me I was right the first time. I put the chassis inside the case, and sold it. Shortly after the dial glass showed up in the mail, snapped neatly in two - proving, beyond reasonable doubt, that the set should never have been touched. By me, anyway.
