This edited article about the gramophone originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 704 published on 12 July 1975.

A child in the ‘Sixties playig  LPs on a stereo record player

“Is it a British or a German submarine? We must be able to hear the difference!”

This was the awesome task set by R.A.F. Coastal Command when they approached the Decca gramophone company during World War II. It was a secret assignment and called for a record to be produced which could be used as a training aid to familiarise airmen with the subtle differences made by the sounds of the enemy and our own submarines.

Difficult as the problem was, Decca came up with the answer – a record with such a wide range of sensitive sound that it was completely satisfactory.

Intensive research had produced an exciting new recording technique, stretching the gramophone’s capabilities to a greater extent than ever before. Adapted later for musical reproduction after the war’s end, the process became known as “ffrr” (full frequency range recording,) and Decca took it as their trademark.

It was not long after the war, that another kind of battle began, this time between the rival recording companies.

In 1948, Columbia Records of America held a Press Conference in New York to launch a revolutionary idea, invented by Dr. Peter Goldmark, called the LP (Long Playing) record. Their new 12-inch disc turned out to be made of non-breakable vinyl plastic, played at 33 and a third r.p.m. on microgrooves and lasted 23 minutes per side. It had about 250 grooves to the inch instead of about 80 in the 78 r.p.m. record.

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This edited article about airmail in wartime originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 703 published on 5 July 1975.

French balloonists defied the Prussian blockade and delivered airmail during the Siege of Paris by Pat Nicolle

Parisians besieged in their city for 142 days by the Prussians from 1870 to 1871 were not denied contact with the outside world. They enjoyed the first airmail in the history of flight – by balloon.

The first flight out of Paris was made by Jules Durouf, a professional balloonist. He took off with his leaky old balloon, Le Neptune, at 11 a.m. on 23rd September, 1870, and sailed high over the Prussain lines at 1,800 metres. With him he carried mail from people in the besieged city to their friends outside.

Shells whined through the air around him when the Prussians opened fire with a special mobile gun built by the arms firm of Krupp. This was the first known anti-aircraft gun in history.

The shells missed Durouf, who replied by showering the Prussians with visiting cards that advertised his services as a balloonist.

A few letters had earlier been lifted out of the French fortress town of Metz, which was besieged in 1870. But these went by unmanned balloon and most were shot down by German sharpshooters.

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This edited article about Edison and the history of the gramophone originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 701 published on 21 June 1975.

Thomas Edison demonstrates his phonograph in the cellar of his home by Peter Jackson

“I was never so taken aback in all my life!” So said the great American inventor, Thomas Alva Edison, when he heard his own voice coming from the little machine he had just created, quoting the simple rhyme, “Mary had a little lamb.” Scratchy and indistinct the words may have been, but they were the first recorded sounds ever heard.

It was 1877 when Edison hit upon the idea of a machine to record and reproduce sound. He called it a phonograph.

His first model had a grooved, brass cylinder covered with tin foil and cranked by a handle. It also had two diaphragms (metal discs), each with a steel needle fixed in the centre, on either side of the cylinder. When a person spoke into the mouthpiece of one of the diaphragms, the vibrations made by his voice caused it to move so that the attached needle made a pattern of tiny indentations on the rotating tin foil. By placing the needle of the other diaphragm at the start of the groove and cranking again, a crude reproduction of the voice was heard. The sound could be amplified by placing a small horn over the reproducing diaphragm.

In December of that year, Edison took his invention to New York, where a demonstration was arranged for the editors of the “Scientific American” magazine. Here is how it was reported.

“Mr. Thomas A. Edison recently came into the office, placed a little machine on our desk, turned a crank and the machine inquired as to our health, asked how we liked the phonograph, informed us that it was very well, and bid us a cordial goodnight.”

In the following months, the public flocked to exhibitions of the new machine, but, like most novelties, its appeal soon faded and, by the latter half of 1878, it had been almost forgotten.

In the meanwhile, Edison had put aside his phonograph in order to concentrate on other work.

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This edited article about Randolph Hearst originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 700 published on 14 June 1975.

THE CLEANSING OF NEW YORK. The long arm of the law holds Joseph Pulitzer and Randolph Hearst by their collars above the skyline of New York, by Louis Dalrymple

The Hollywood guests assembled in the great hall. Gaudy Spanish banners hung 22 feet above them from a ceiling that once graced a palace in Brescia. Suits of armour stood in grim parade around the oak walls. A long table edged with medieval chairs beckoned with sparkling, cut glass and glinting candelabra.

The amiable chatter ceased. In the expectant hush on the stroke of 7.30 p.m., their host appeared, stepping through a panel set in a 16th century choir stall. A big, dominating man with hard features exuding the power that only millions can provide: William Randolph Hearst, newspaper tycoon, master of the sensational smear campaign, the Press king who revolutionised journalism with blaring banner headlines in black, red and even emerald green ink, the “Lord of San Simeon” – the fortified Spanish-style castle that he had carved out of solid rock, 200 miles from Los Angeles.

It was there that Hearst loved to entertain Hollywood stars, directors and producers on a scale that a Roman Emperor would have envied. They could hunt buffalo on its 240,000 acres, in area bigger than Bedfordshire, fish, send falcons after their prey or swim in the castle pool inlaid with gold. They arrived either by air, touching down on San Simeon’s airstrip, or by train over Hearst’s private railway.

He imposed only two rules on his visitors: they had to gather in the 100-foot long great hall for his staged entry every night and the word “death” must never be uttered in his presence.

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This edited article about Alexander Graham Bell originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 681 published on 1 February 1975.

Bell in the attic and Watson the cellar (left) and Alexander Graham Bell in Boston (right)

The first words ever heard over a wire were caused by an accident. They were to herald the age of the telephone.

“Mr Watson, come here! I want you!”

The speaker was in the attic, and Mr. Watson was down in a cellar. But a minute later he was in the attic, out of breath from excitement and his dash up the stairs.

“I heard you,” he shouted. “I heard you say the words.”

Mr Watson had some cause to be excited. He had just heard the first voice message ever sent over a wire.

The year was 1876, the place was Boston, Massachusetts, and the inventor of this primitive telephone, standing there pale and excited, was a young Scotsman named Alexander Graham Bell.

He had spilt some acid in his workroom and had used the first telephone to summon help. Together with Thomas Watson, his assistant, he had been working for many months before that momentous day when Bell’s voice from the attic had sent Watson dashing breathlessly up the stairs.

Surprisingly, the potentialities of his invention were not immediately recognised. When he took his telephone to a great exhibition being held that year in Philadelphia, he was given only a small corner under the stairs in which to set up his device. Almost out of sight he was largely ignored, and those who did stop to inspect the telephone stayed only a minute or so before passing on.

Happily though, Don Pedro II, the emperor of Brazil and an old acquaintance of Bell’s happened to pass by one day. After exchanging a few words with Bell, he turned his attention to his invention. When he was given a demonstration, he nearly dropped the receiver in wonder, exclaiming: “Why, it talks!”

By then a large crowd had gathered around the illustrious visitor, including a number of judges who were visibly impressed.

But there were still many obstacles to be overcome before Bell received the recognition that was due to him. Other inventors had been working on similar lines and he had to fight several hundred law suits before he was legally acknowledged as the inventor of the telephone.

Even then, when the first telephone exchange was set up in 1878, the total number of subscribers was only twenty one!

This edited article about the Thirties originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 680 published on 25 January 1975.

The Mersey Tunnel builders used a giant ‘mole’ to burrow beneath the river and construct the largest underwater tunnel in the world, by Wilf Hardy

However low his state has become, man never loses sight of his pride. He can be poor, hungry, cold and down-and-out but always, somewhere deep within him, there still lurks a streak of pride.

It is the same with nations, which, after all, are only human. In the nineteen-thirties the nations of Europe were poor and down-and-out, but somehow they still had to show their pride. And the principal stage upon which they exhibited it was the North Atlantic Ocean.

Here, for the thrilling, unbelievable five day trip to all the wonders of the New World, sailed the incredible luxury liners of the great European nations vying with each other to demonstrate greater and greater luxury, more and more comfort, undreamed-of splendour, all of which was in curious contrast to the lives of most of the people who lived under their flags.

In October 1932, Normandie slid down the slipway to make France the owner of the greatest liner in the world. She was about 1,000 ft. long and had a gross tonnage of 80,000 tons. She had the first theatre ever to be built into a liner and a 100 seat chapel. There were 350′ square yards of gardens laid out on her decks and a garage for 100 cars. She had dog kennels with “dog promenades” and special enclosures for birds and butterflies. She cost £20 million to build and even before she was launched, it was officially admitted in France that under no circumstances could the Normandie be expected to pay her way.

There was nothing in the world afloat as brilliant as the Normandie – until Britain launched the Queen Mary in 1934 and sent her on her maiden voyage in 1936.

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This edited article about the post office originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 676 published on 28 December 1974.

Cash on delivery was post office policy before Rowland Hill’s penny postage, by Peter Jackson

For the first five years of his life Rowland Hill spent much of his time lying ill in bed. He was unable to sit up and play properly, so his parents suspended his toys from a string. To help pass the long hours, his father read him stories about children in poor families who frequently hadn’t enough to eat, or proper clothes to wear.

As he listened to these stories young Rowland vowed that one day, when he was healthy and grown-up, he would do something significant to help such people.

Rowland’s own parents were not well-off. His father was a poorly-paid teacher in Kidderminster, in Worcestershire, and Rowland and his two elder brothers knew what it was like for a family to be down to its last few pence, and dread each knock at the door in case it was a tradesman demanding payment of an overdue bill.

Rowland (who was born in Kidderminster in 1795), was particularly aware of how his mother feared the coming of the postman. In those days, it was something of an event to receive a letter. Deliveries were infrequent and, when the postman did arrive, he often demanded more money for bringing the letter than the Hills had in the house.

It was the custom then for the receiver of a letter to pay for its postage, and Rowland never forgot the times when his mother had to sell some household item in order to give the postman his money.

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This edited article about radar originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 658 published on 24 August 1974.

The RAF intensified its long-distance bombing raids, and Mosquito fighter-bombers began flying along high frequency radio beams. Picture by Wilf Hardy

One of the great advantages of radar was that it was simple to operate. After a short period of instruction, girls of the Armed Services became very efficient operators. When the Germans switched from daylight attacks to night raids on our cities, a major problem was created for our air defences. In daylight the radar controller would guide his fighters to the general vicinity of the enemy force, and then it was left to the leader of the group of fighters to direct the attack.

The night fighters were not able to get close enough to the enemy force with the radar apparatus that was being used at the time, so the controller chose a particular bomber as target. He then directed a fighter, which was identified by a special radio device that the other fighters could “home” in on, into a position behind and below the bombers, and when the fighter got sufficiently close, it was able to use its own radar to pinpoint the enemy aircraft and the rest of the squadron followed. This was a crude method of detection and the German night bomber force began to take a devastating toll of the cities of Britain.

It soon became obvious that our defences could not cope, but perhaps even more worrying was the fact that the Germans had discovered a scheme whereby they could navigate in darkness to their objective with almost total accuracy. They had designed a system of radio beams which directed their bombers right over their targets. The approach beam pointed straight to the target, perhaps 250 miles away, the others crossed it at three points in front of the bomb release point. When the aircraft flew through the first of the cross beams this notified the pilot that it was time to line up accurately on the approach beam. As the aircraft flew through a second cross beam the navigator pressed a button to start one hand of a special clock, not unlike a stop watch except that the two hands rotated independently. Three miles from the target, the aircraft passed the third and last cross beam, and the navigator again pressed the button on his special clock. The hand which had been moving now stopped, and the other hand started rotating to catch it up. When both hands met, a pair of electrical contacts closed, and the bombs were automatically released.

The R.A.F. and Intelligence had pieced together this information from captured prisoners as well as aircraft which had had to make forced landings on British soil. Radio signals are vulnerable to interference and if Britain’s major cities were not to be completely destroyed the German beams had to be blotted out. The battle of the radio waves commenced.

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This edited article about the Second World War originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 657 published on 17 August 1974.

The story of radar with Sir Robert Watson-Watt, by Wilf Hardy

If we had not begun to build a chain of radar stations round the coast of Britain in 1935 we would certainly not have won the Battle of Britain in 1940, and quite possibly the Allies would have lost the Second World War (1939-1945). Radar helped to change the history of the world when it played a vital role in helping the R.A.F. to win the war in the air.

Today we take it for granted that aeroplanes can take off, fly to their destinations thousands of miles away, and land safely. All this can, if necessary, be done automatically by various systems of electronics which were mainly evolved through radar.

The basic principle of radar makes use of a phenomenon all of us have observed many times, that of an echo. For example, if you shout loudly in an open field, the sound waves set up by this noise radiate in all directions, and eventually disappear entirely. If, on the other hand, there is a cliff or a mountain, or even a large building close by, some of the sound energy will be reflected back to you as an echo. How long this echo takes to return will depend on how far away the cliff or mountain is.

Radar electronically performs in the same way by using radio signals which travel at a speed of 186,000 miles per second, and the interval between sending and receiving these signals is measured in microseconds, (millionths of a second).

Radar, like the jet engine, was developed as a weapon of war, and although it was not invented by one man, but by many scientists over several decades, nevertheless it is ironic that radar, which saved Britain was originally patented in 1904 by a young German inventor Christian Hulsmeyer. His idea was very simple and consisted of a radio transmitter linked to a receiver. The device was so arranged that radio waves from the transmitter could only work the receiver by being reflected back by some metallic body – such as a ship at sea. This primitive form of radar seems to have been forgotten until 1922 when it was realised that it might be possible to put what has now become one of the marvels of the twentieth century into practical use.

However, it wasn’t until the beginning of the 1930s that the complete background to the development of radar existed. Radar was designed to detect distant objects, such as an aeroplane, by means of radio wave echoes which gave its position. It was becoming clear that Germany was rearming rapidly, particularly in building up a strong air force. The British scientists and service chiefs set out to strengthen their defence against bomber attacks.

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This edited article about television originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 654 published on 27 July 1974.

Another first for BBC television – the Queen’s first Christmas Day television broadcast, by John Keay

During the Second World War, British television was off the air. These would have been the lost years of an infant marvel, but for its fast-growing cousin, radar, whose secret advancement gave television a technological boost when peace returned

On September 1st, 1939, the day that Hitler marched into Poland, BBC Television came to an end for the duration of the Second World War, and did not start again until June, 1946. The day after the service was resumed BBC cameras televised the Victory Parade in London.

During the war years, great technical strides had been made, not only in America, where the television service had continued, but also in Britain. Here many scientists and electronics engineers had been secretly developing and operating radar, which worked on the same principle as television. In the First World War, radio advanced because of the necessity for instant communications between field commanders, and huge amounts of money were spent which would have been unthinkable in peacetime. Again, in the 1939-1945 war, radar became a number one priority. Many people believe that without the use of the “magic eye” during the Battle of Britain, Britain would have undoubtedly lost the war.

So, although the BBC Television Service was shut down for seven years, it did in fact emerge from the war stronger in technical resources. There was a vast number of skilled electronics engineers available from the armed services, and this, together with the “know-how” that the United States had acquired in running their television service, gave the BBC an encouraging start.

Immediately after the war, there was very little indication that within ten years there would be more people in Britain watching television than listening to the radio. Even in 1948 there were only 50,000 receivers, but the BBC were planning to extend the service to the rest of Britain, and a combined radio and television licence cost only £2.

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