[BVARC] The Great Harvey Wells Caper - Part 1

Gary Sitton gasitton at comcast.net
Fri Dec 31 10:12:45 CST 2021


    OK, I'm stupid but why Harvey Wells?  I actually have an
old H.W. Z-Match Balanced Tuner which I restored and plan
to use on a big loop whenever I get one up on my small lot.
I did get an O.O. notice in the '50s of severe chirp on 20
mtrs using a surplus ARC-5 transmitter.  I just ditched the
rig and got a Heath Kit VFO which was much more stable.
Later while in CA as WB6NDY in the early '70s a nearly
Ham complained of my key click on 20 mtr CW.  I fixed the
cathode keying circuit with a resistor and capacitor in my
restored old 90 watt transmitter and all was well.

73, Gary K5AMH

On 12/29/2021 10:09 AM, k5hm.ron--- via BVARC wrote:
>
> *The Great Harvey Wells Caper*
>
> *Part 1 – The Pink Ticket*
>
> It was April in New York City.  I was on my way home from the regular 
> weekly breakfast with the Queens County Bagel, Bowling and Spark Club.
>
> These were the halcyon days of kid-dom on the cusp of adulthood.  I 
> had my General Class ticket now for about two years.  Got my 
> acceptance letter from college and it was six months before anybody 
> would hear of Sputnik.   Life was good.
>
> As I walked home from the bus stop, I was thinking about getting on 
> the air today and rolling up a few new states for my WAS.  I needed 
> South Dakota and my old buddy Ralph from the QCBB&SC said there were 
> only three active hams in the whole state.  I could see that South 
> Dakota was going to be a real challenge.
>
> I climbed the front steps two at a time, walked through the front door 
> and headed directly for my basement ham shack.   I am halfway down the 
> hall when I hear my old man say, “Where are you going?”
>
> Any kid who has reached the age of five, immediately recognizes the 
> peril in that question.  It’s not a question really, it more a 
> combination of Red Alert, General Quarters and Take Cover simultaneously.
>
> I turned around to see the old man advancing toward me.  He was upset. 
> I tried to think of anything I did or failed to do in the last 
> twenty-four hours. I aced my Physics quiz, took out the trash last 
> night, and didn’t leave any wet towels in the bathroom, check, check, 
> check.
>
> He was about two feet away when he stopped, thrust a letter in front 
> of me and said, “What’s this?”  His hand was shaking so much, I 
> couldn’t read the envelope at first, but it looked very important.  
> Eventually, the oscillation decayed enough for me to see better.   It 
> was one of those business window envelopes with no stamp.  The top 
> right-hand corner of the envelope contained the words, /U.S. 
> Government Official Business!/
>
> The old man was really wound up; like a pressure cooker ready to 
> explode.  He’d lived his life avoiding entanglements with authority.  
> He was 4-F for the draft in WWII, voted at least once in every 
> election and was an associate member of the Police Benevolent 
> Association.  Any unexpected things that had to do with “Official 
> Business” made him very nervous.
>
> Desperately, I tried to think of something that would get him in such 
> a lather.  I had gotten my draft card six weeks ago.  Maybe this was 
> the dreaded, “Greetings from Uncle Sam” letter.  Then I noticed the 
> return address, /Federal Communications Commission, Washington, DC./
>
> I stopped breathing.  The FCC!  This was worse than getting drafted.  
> Looking through the window of the envelope I could see the paper 
> inside.  A pink ticket!
>
> The envelope was torn open.  At the top of the page, I could see the 
> words, /Notice of Violation!/ He’d already read it and assumed the 
> worst; a life sentence for me at Leavenworth.  I was doomed!
>
> Flight was the only response I had.  I grabbed the letter and ran for 
> the basement.  I read and re-read the notice several times.  Cold 
> sweat was dripping off me.
>
> The letter said that my signal had been observed operating at a 
> frequency out of the band at such and such time and date.  It demanded 
> I explain what happened. That I take immediate steps to prevent this 
> from happening in the future and that I report those steps to the FCC 
> within 30 days.  No wonder the old man was upset.  Single handedly, I 
> had brought the wrath of the entire federal government down on our home.
>
> I pulled out my log and started flipping pages; hoping this was a 
> mistake.  Some other guy with a similar call sign, maybe.  The time in 
> the letter was around 2 AM.  Was the FCC really awake that late?
>
> I ran my thumb down the logbook pages slowly, hoping against hope.  
> Yikes! There it was.  At the alleged hour, I had been on the air.  
> What could I do?  “The old man was right, you’re going to Leavenworth 
> “, said the voice in my head.
>
> That night I’d logged several calls to DX stations who were calling CQ 
> on the other side of the 20-meter band edge.  The last entry in the 
> log that night was a guy in VK-land that I had finally managed to 
> work.  I was so excited I almost woke the old man out of a sound sleep 
> to tell him. I must have strayed too close to the band edge!
>
> Maybe I’ll just throw myself on the mercy of the court. /“Your honor, 
> I’m just a kid. I didn’t know I was committing a crime.”   “I fell in 
> with a bad crowd; they dared me to do it!”/
>
> In a panic, I called my old buddy Ralph on the land line.  Ralph was a 
> charter member of the QCBB&SC.  He knew everything about ham radio.  
> He had been a ham so long that he said Marconi was his Elmer.
>
> After an eternity of rings, he answered. Without giving him a chance 
> to say hello, I unloaded on Ralph in one single breath.  When I 
> finally finished, Ralph calmed me down and assured me that I was not 
> going to Leavenworth. “Yeah kid (everyone was a kid to Ralph), I got 
> my first pink ticket in ’36”, he said softly, as if someone were 
> listening.
>
> What a relief! My old buddy Ralph, the greatest Elmer of all time had 
> gotten at least a couple pink tickets and he was still walking around 
> a free man.  There was a ray of hope for me!
>
> I could swear he was grinning on the other side of the phone.  The 
> voice in my head said, “Yeah, they’ll probably confiscate all your 
> radio gear instead.”
>
> It was only two years earlier that I went to the FCC offices in 
> Manhattan to take my General exam under the watchful eye of Lurch, the 
> examiner.  I still remember the big bullpen where the FCC guys worked. 
> They were all dressed alike too; white shirts rolled up to the elbow, 
> black ties and black pants.  It was the official FCC uniform.   I 
> didn’t know what would be worse; just quietly going off to Leavenworth 
> or having a squad of FCC men in black show up at my house in front of 
> all the neighbors!
>
> “Listen kid”, he began; his voice had a way of piercing through the 
> QRM in my head.  “You just need an accurate marker for the band edge.  
> A crystal calibrator.  You can pick one up at Harrison Radio for about 
> ten bucks.”  I could hear Ralph take a deep breath. He’d been a chain 
> smoker for twenty years, so his inhale had a signature wheeze, just 
> like a good CW operator’s fist.
>
> Then he continued, “The dial markings on your VFO ain’t worth the 
> plastic they’re printed on kid.  So, when you are chasing DX, don’t 
> get any closer than three kc to the band edge marker, no matter what.”
>
> “Hey Ralph”, I said “What about the letter I have to write?  What 
> should I say?” Ralph started in again, “Listen kid, just tell them the 
> truth, you’ll be fine.  See you later kid.”  And then there was a click.
>
> I sat for a long time; thinking.  The U.S. phone band ended at 14200 
> KC.  Most of the good DX was always just below that.  We worked split 
> back then, running full carrier double sideband AM, pushing as close 
> to the band edge as we dared, calling for that rare station we needed.
>
> I wasn’t willing to give up a whole three kc of band, if I didn’t need 
> to do it.  Maybe I could just turn down the mike gain.  Just listening 
> to twenty meters some nights it was easy to see how everybody pushed 
> the limit. Still, I was willing to do or say anything get back in the 
> old man’s good graces and the FCC off my back!  Finally, the 
> beginnings of a diabolical plan began to form in my head.   If I 
> played my cards right, I would solve my FCC problem and then some.
>
> To be continued
>
> *Reporting from the Dark Side,*
>
> *Ron Litt, K5HM*
>
> 73,
>
> Ron, K5HM
>
> k5hm.ron at gmail.com <mailto:k5hm.ron at gmail.com>
>
> www.qrz.com/db/k5hm <http://www.qrz.com/db/k5hm>
>
> ARRL Logologo (2)smaller Prize
>
> *        Excelsior!*
>
>
> ________________________________________________
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>
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