Retro Thing

Too Many Buttons On Your Remote?

Okay, I'm a doofus. I've never been able to get a universal remote to work for me. I've tried a hundred dollar jobber with a reconfigurable LCD screen, I've tried one from the dollar store - no dice. I can maybe get one function to work, so a universal remote is just not going to fit into my universe. Therefore, like a lot of people I have a coffee table littered with remotes. 

As if multitudes of remotes weren't enough of a problem, almost all of them have nightmarish design. In some cases I've never seen anything designed to fit in a human hand that could be less accommodating to the human hand. Let's not even talk about those remotes you practically have to hold right up to the device you're controlling.

What a lot of remotes need to do is simplify. Since TV's don't come with adjustment knobs anymore, we have to do it all from the remote using tons of tiny and confusing buttons. Maybe RCA got it right with this corded remote. Not only will it work from anywhere in the room (within a ten foot radius), imagine how easy tech support must have been:

- befuddled customer: "I pressed the thing and all it does is change channels."

- warmly smug tech guy: "Hmm... have you tried the other button?"

I'm oversimplifying, though the VCR I had up until the early 90's was a top-loader with a corded remote. I was spoiled with forward and reverse scan on mine as well as a noise-filled pause... so there. Actually what I'd like to come back is something I remember seeing done in the 90's. As TV remotes got more sophisticated, the seldom used buttons were hidden away under a cover. Some companies went as far as to provide a pair of remotes (that's TWO remotes for you to lose in the couch!), a much simplified day-to-day unit, and a Sunday-go-to-meetings fancy pants one.

I hope that someone comes along someday to solve this multi-remote problem for me. Then again, walking the six feet to the television set every day just to control it may be the only exercise I get.

related:
Radio Shack remote control extender of the ancients
Atari 2600 joystick remote
Calculator watch with built in remote
General Electric's ginormous television

Automatic Vinyl

One bleak winter weekend in early 1979, my family drove down from Canada on a shopping expedition to Minot, North Dakota. It was something we did a few times a year. I vividly remember gorging on a smorgasbord of Saturday morning cartoons on the three major networks. Most Canadians will reluctantly agree that homegrown talent like the Friendly Giant and Mr. Dressup couldn't live up to the big-budget splendor of the Pink Panther and Scooby Doo.

However, my father showed little interest in cartoons that Saturday morning. He had something else on his mind -- a sleek new stereo. After long hours of tedious comparison shopping, he settled on a Sony console stereo with AM/FM radio, cassette, lots of fake woodgrain and a futuristic record changer.

When we got home, I was admonished to take great care of this amazing example of Japanese technology. I did, for the most part. But I was captivated by the robotic brilliance of the mechanical record changer, to the point that I gleefully encouraged it to cycle through an almost endless stack of discs whenever the opportunity arose. Mercifully, the Sony withstood my onslaught with stoic determination. It remained fully operational for decades, and its speakers still grace my parents' living room.

Of course, this is simply a long winded way of admitting that I'm irrationally smitten by record changers.

The most fascinating of all are the older ones, like this Zenith Cobra-Matic phonograph from the mid-1950s. It resembles the bastard love child of a Studebaker, a sewing machine and a metal lathe (apparently record players are OK with threesomes). The device had only two controls -- a 7-10-12" size selector and a variable speed control that allowed playback of anything from 16 2/3 RPM audio books to 78 RPM oldies.

Amazingly, the real world version of this device shares the same glistening sheen as the airbrushed beauty pictured in the ad, thanks to all-metal construction and high-gloss paint.

Inspired by the Plan 59 archives

The Return of Crocker Motorcycles

Crocker Motorcycles? Most people have never heard of them. Not surprising, considering that less than 100 of these two-wheeled hot rods were made in the years leading up to WWII.These magnificent machines might have been forgotten in the mists of time if it weren't for an appearance in a 1998 motorcycle exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum in New York. Nowadays, these old bikes are a collector's dream, estimated to be worth more than $100,000 each.

Part of what makes Al Crocker's bikes special is that he was a perfectionist who preferred to make things himself rather than relying on substandard parts from others. As a result, each of these bikes were essentially custom machines, with cast aluminum fuel tanks and lovingly assembled custom engines. The first few dozen bikes from the company earned a reputation as winning speedway racers. In 1936, Al and Paul Bigsby introduced a 1,000 cc model that could cruise at over 90 mph. The world took notice.

"The Crocker was built heavy duty for maximum performance, custom-tailored to the individual rider's order, and built in Al Crocker's own facility. Each buyer could choose color, degree of chrome trim, and even gear ratio and displacement!

Crocker introduced motorcycle design innovations that set his V-twin ahead of the Harleys and Indians of the mid 30's and 40's. The transmission could withstand incredible amounts of torque. This beautifully engineered three speed transmission coupled with a unique proprietary engine of Crocker's own design laid shame to anything that dared cross its path.

At 3.25" Bore and 3.625 Stroke, the 61 cubic inch engines were almost square. Cylinders were set 45 degrees apart. The compression ratio was rated at 7:1 on most machines but was known to go at least to 11:1 on some specials. The machine was put together with customizers in mind, too. The cylinder walls were a full 3/8-inch thick to allow for over-boring. This led to the creation of some big-bore Crockers of over 90 cu. in. that blew off anything in their way."

Unfortunately, Crocker's craftsmanlike approach would be the company's downfall. The labor-intensive production line was slow and prices were high. They simply couldn't compete and folded in the tough economic times of 1942.

The marque languished until a new Crocker Motorcycle Company began to produce replacement parts for the old machines in 1997. The Toronto-based team team can now produce all of the parts needed to assemble exact reproductions of the coveted Crocker classics. And, amazingly, the company is taking orders for a production run of 100 new bikes. Back to the future, indeed.

Visit the Crocker Motorcycle Company official site

Taylor Desk Clock – Sleek & Stylin' Time & Temperature

When you wanted to give a classy man-gift, for decades it meant that the object had to have real wood, chrome and/or brushed metal, angular design, and if at all possible hold a pen. This Taylor clock has “executive gift aisle” written all over it. Given the glacial pace at which men's taste changes, this clock could come from the 60's, 70's, maybe even the 80's. The clock takes a design cue from an airplane cockpit. The three dials measure your day as the hour tolls, the temperature rises, and humidity engulfs.

I like the looks of this U.S.A. made desk clock, but I'd need to restock my office with other sundries that are equally slick. I'm not complaining, though I will grouse a bit about battery installation. You have to unscrew the back of the clock to tip the mechanism out. I had a lot of difficulty adjusting the clock to keep good time, necessitating multiple disassemblies. 

While the clock inspires admiration from the front, the rear invites scorn. If you're the kind of high powered executive (or dad) who has this on his desk, do you really want the people that come cowering into your office to have to stare at the screwholes? What am I supposed to put back there? Some sort of manly doily?

I think that some man-gifts today still have these aesthetic qualities, but many more don't. Where we once had the warmth of real wood, now we have textured plastic. Replacing metallic angular features are soft biomorphic curves. Aviator inspired analog dials have given away to LCD readouts of the correct time and temperature downloaded from the Atomic Clock. I guess that both devices can measure the beat of time marching on – but at least with the Taylor I'll know the relative humidity and I'll always have a pen

related:

Nixie tube mantle clock
Cathedral radio shaped mantle clock
Retro/modern Tivoli clock radio
Delft ceramic clock done in cross-stitch

Personics - iTunes In The Analog 80's

In the late 80's, cassettes were in. LP's were on their way out, as were 45rpm singles. That meant that there was no longer a way to buy a single song you wanted (cassette singles - or "cassingles" were still a few years away).  Personics was a company ready to fill the gap with their kiosks in some major record stores. The machine would let you create a list of your own musical selections (the machine also let you preview a few seconds of each song), and 20 minutes later the clerk would hand you your own mixtape with custom-printed label. Check out the the TV commercial.

Once 45's disappeared, it really wasn't until the dawn of the internet that it was easy to buy a single track of music. Of course you could make mixtapes before this, but that meant having access to all the albums with your favorite selections on them. The Personics was an interesting idea, but I don't get a sense that it was ever very widespread. It hit some larger music chain stores, but I personally didn't see it all that much. The ad I've included at the top of this post cites sales of over a million songs, so why didn't the service stick around longer? Why did it take until the introduction of iTunes only a few years ago for the model of buying individual songs to finally work?

related:
Rebirth of the local CD store
Mix tape memory stick
Origin of the audio cassette
Stylish Ampex Micro-24 cassette recorder

Should We Hack Vintage Gadgets?

I just read Marc de Vinck's guide to converting a vintage camera into a webcam on Make. I was torn. On one hand, I was happy to see an old camera escape a forgotten corner of the attic to live a new life. However, it was painful to see him smash the lens with a hammer and screwdriver before gluing a cheap Logitech Webcam into its place.

After all, this isn't a masterful DIY project like building an analogue computer or arcade console -- it's arts and crafts taken to a Neanderthal level. Anyone can whack something with a brick and glue a mass-produced widget into the resulting hole.

75-year-old cameras are fairly uncommon. A few short years from now, Marc's retro webcam will be languishing in the landfill. Had this Agfa escaped the wrath of his hammer, it might have remained on earth for decades or centuries to come as a piece of photographic history.

Am I being overly sentimental? You tell me...

Retro Video Game Puffy Stickers With A Naughty Surprise

Years and years ago I found this set of puffy video game stickers and a retro video game styled background board at a thrift store. I didn't look at the set very intently. It looked like something you'd buy in a grocery store.  The perforated plastic background makes it easy to reposition the puffy stickers... so I guess it's a sort of Presto Magix that's reusable.

It looked vaguely Taiwanese knock-offy so I bought it, but then it went into a box and I forgot about it for more than a decade. I ran across it recently, and thought again about my love of retro gaming culture and the chintzy goofiness that came with it. I thought about the lost art of puffy stickers, and how odd and cheap the art in this set is, and then... hello... I finally saw what I hadn't been seeing in all this time.

Take a close look at these stickers. It's not some fakey versions of video game characters we love... it's naked ladies being chased by police. Ladies who look a bit like an upside down Ziggy, but ladies nonetheless. There are a few video game standards – like bonus objects, which in this case are ladies' underwear. Some of the stickers are styled to look like game graphics, and others look like saucy greeting cards gone wrong. My guess is that it's from the early 80's at the latest, but then why style the stickers to look like 60's clip art?

We've had a lot of “what the hell” objects here on Retro Thing, but this is one of the "what the hell-iest". I've been wracking my brain for the intended audience, and the closest thing I can think of is that maybe it's a poorly thought out carnival prize. Clearly it's not for kids.. at least I hope it's not.  Dirty novelty gift? But what's the point? Is there some holiday or anniversary of dumpling-shaped women on the run from cops that look like Mr. Magoo? It seems like someone could have easily bought this as a gift for children – then had to answer a lot of awkward questions later.

Feel free to add your "what the hell" guesses to the comments section. Don't tell me that I'm the guardian of the last of this kind of thing on earth...

related:
Presto Magix - cartooning for the artistically declined
The art of paint by number sets
Swanky Lady barware
Sugar Shack souvenir glasses
Novelty necktie with a saucy secret

Recreating the First Microprocessor-Based Calculator

In 1969, Japanese electronics manufacturer Busicom approached a little startup called Intel to develop a chipset for their new 141-PF electronic printing calculator. Intel's solution was the world's first single chip microprocessor -- the tiny Intel 4004 -- which powered the Busicom machine to groundbreaking success in 1971.

37 years later, Bill Kotaska has crafted a replica of this historical machine capable of running the software from the original Busicom ROMs. He even went to the trouble of buying an old calculator of approximately the right vintage and rearranging the mechanical switches to match the original Busicom layout.

The printer mechanism was originally manufactured by Epson, and Kotaska was able reuse one from an old Monroe 1330 printing calculator, although the lack of a full schematic diagram made it tough for Kotaska to figure out exactly how it was supposed to interface with the logic circuit. He eventually got it running and the result is a stunning bit of retroputing history.

Busicom sold 100,000 Intel-based calculators before finding themselves in financial trouble. Intel used this misstep to their advantage and bought back the rights to the chip for non-calculator applications. The rest is history.

Bill Kotaska's Busicom 141-PF replica [via Slashdot]

Elegant and Affordable Czech Turntables

Pro-Ject turntables are manufactured in the Czech town of Litovel, several hundred kilometers east of Prague. Their broad range includes several stratospherically expensive models, but my favorite is the affordable yet impressive Debut III ($379).

This uncluttered manual turntable includes a straight aluminum tonearm with an Ortofon OM 5E cartridge. The steel platter includes a felt mat and the precision motor is decoupled to reduce vibration. The turntable runs at 33/45 rpm, requiring a quick pulley change. 78 rpm is optional, but you'll need to invest in a special 33/78 rpm pulley.

A turntable doesn't get simpler than this -- there is no automatic cutoff at the end of a record, nor is the motor digitally controlled (a quartz controller is an option). All you get is great sound and minimalist design. In fact, the hardest choice will be selecting the color. It's available in matte black, glossy black, glossy white, silver, red, yellow, blue and green.

Pro-Ject Audio Systems Debut III [official site]
Available in North America from The Needle Doctor

Bob The Builder Goes Nuclear

I wish Vanadium Corp. of America had actually produced this stunning nuclear-powered road-maker in the early 1960s.

Just imagine the thrill of terraforming America's beautiful but useless rural hills into productive ribbons of concrete at the touch of a single button. Sadly, they probably feared the arrival of mass-produced personal aircars before this magnificent eco-mangler could be rushed into production.

Unearthed in the Plan 59 archives