Why I didn't get started in amateur Radio while in High School

My interest in ham radio was first piqued by articles in the Boy Scout publication, Boy's Life. The articles had me dreaming about communicating with others via the radio - wow, what a concept! Living in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, I often listened to KDKA as I did homework in the evenings, and they had a show called Party Line hosted by Ed and Wendy King. In those days, KDKA was a 50,000 watt clear channel station, which meant it was the only US station assigned to 1020 KHz. People would phone into Party Line not only from Pittsburgh, but from places far away - Kenosha, Wisconsin and from the Carolinas.

It seemed to me that the biggest hurdle to obtaining the entry level ham license at the time was learning Morse code. Without a shortwave radio, I couldn't listen to on-air signals for practice, and had to try to learn all on my own with a straight key and a code practice oscillator.  The experience was sheer drudgery and was so aggravating that I began to refer to it as morose code. And then things became considerably worse.

About a week into the process of trying to learn the code, my father, who worked shifts, came into my room to see what all the dahditdahdit dahdahdidah sounds were all about. "Ah!" he said "Boning up for the boy scout code test?". I replied no, that my primary objective was to pass an amateur radio code test and get a license. Dad's face quickly reddened and in a booming voice he informed me, in terms that could not possibly be misunderstood, that "Under NO circumstances will you EVER transmit a radio signal from MY house!"

I was stunned. The prospect of passing a test to earn a radio license that would expire in one year and could not be renewed without the ability to even use that license stopped me cold. (At that time, the novice license was a stepping stone and one had to upgrade to a higher class license within that year). For several days, I was mystified at what brought on this tirade from dad.

Several days later, once dad had calmed down, I found out why. Some 12 years earlier, in 1950, my dad was one of this first in the neighborhood to buy a TV set. The novelty of having television in the house had not worn off before one evening (my recollection was that in those days, TV came on the air late afternoon and signed off at 10:30) the picture was torn up with big black bars and a deep, crusty male voice that often started a sentence with the words "Fine business, Sam" came through the speakers.

Dad was flummoxed as this went on for a number of nights over a two week period. Another neighbor several blocks away had also recently purchased a TV and had the same problems. One evening the black bars re-appeared and the voice started again. "Fine business..." it said and then the voice said "you can mail that to...." and he gave his address. The jig was up! he lived just three blocks away.

Dad and the neighbor decided to visit the man behind the voice to see what could be done about the interference.  They went over after work on a warm summer evening and knocked on his door. A surly man answered the door and asked "What do you want?" rather gruffly. My dad and Mr. Shimko told of how his signal was tearing up the picture and overriding the audio on their brand new TV sets. The ham operator stopped them mid-sentence and said "Wait a minute!" and stepped back into the house. He reached behind the door, then re-opened it and leveled a shotgun at dad and Mr. Shimko. "Get the #*&#$ off my property!" he commanded - and they did.

Dad took a very dim view of ham radio from that point on based upon that experience.  As a result, my career as a ham radio operator was put on hold for another nine years until I had a home of my own and rekindled my interest in the hobby. 

To this day, the identity of curmudgeonly ham that cost me nine years of enjoyment remains unknown to me.  Anybody out there have a 1950 Radio Amateur Callbook that I can look through to see if I can determine who it might have been?

333-3333 [Seven Threes] de K3GP