History
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Last Stagecoach To Amberley
Readers of Westerns will be familiar with the stock opening. Take, as an example, "The Last Stagecoach into Abilene".
The Stagecoach rolls into Abilene, late. It comes to a halt outside the Silken Garter saloon. The first of the arriving travelers to step down is a young attractive lady, wearing fancy eastern clothes and a haughty expression.
Next is a tall stranger. He tips the brim of his Stetson to the lady as she strides off across the street to the hotel while he makes his way into the saloon.
The man riding shotgun, a grizzled old-timer, clambers down from the top of the stage and tells the waiting crowd, who can hardly take their eyes off the rear of the departing fancy eastern clothes, that the coach is late 'cos o' them pesky injuns who’d come a whoopin' outa the hills the other side of Rattlesnake Pass.
Some of the spirit of the Old West remains in place today in West Sussex.
The Stagecoach rolls into Amberley, late. It comes to a halt outside the station yard. The only arriving traveller to step down is me.
Nobody is riding shotgun on the Stagecoach Bus, the special Sunday's only service between Burgess Hill and Pulborough by way of Amberley, running under contract to West Sussex County Council, to explain why it's late.
I know why because I witnessed it all an hour ago when the driver of a Range Rover misjudged the pattern of the continuous line of parked vehicles in Bramber.
The resulting confusion, when he ended up facing the Amberley Stage head-on with cars piling up behind in both directions, took a time to sort out. The driver of the Amberley Stage lacked the eloquence of a grizzled old-timer when he voiced an opinion of the Range Rover driver.
Through the reverse image from the oversize mirror in the driver's cab I was able to lip-read every syllable of his forthright, colourful delivery and no mention of pesky was made.
It's the last day of September and there are two reasons why I'm at the Amberley Museum today. It’s Autumn Crafts and Skills Day, billed as 'A chance for accompanied children to try their hand at a range of craft activities'.
First job is to get the Radio Station set up with the sign 'Try your hand at Morse, send your name in Morse Code and receive a certificate' prominently displayed.
There are already a few visitors circulating.
At one end of the building housing the Wireless exhibits the sombre tones of Neville Chamberlain are issuing a sixty-eight year old declaration of war from a radio set of that period.
In lighter vein, from another part of the building, Flotsam and Jetsam, a popular vocal duo of that same period, are singing about little Miss Bouncer who loves an announcer down at the BBC.
I unlock a couple of cabinets, throw three or four switches and the Radio Station is ready for action. There are two HF rigs available for operation, a Trio 530 and a Kenwood 570.
The 530 has a history. Formerly owned by G5RV, Louis had bequeathed it to the RAIBC. Johnny, G3MJK, the chairman of that club decided that because of its pedigree the rig ought to be preserved and accordingly donated it to the Museum, where it is fired up from time to time to keep it in trim. It's still capable of delivering 100 watts but lacks the filtering on receive found on the 570 which is a big plus in view of the locally generated static.
With the 570 running I check 80 metres to find a signal strong enough to surmount the S9 plus of noise and get an entry in the log from a /P in South Wales who is at a kite flying rally and has an enormous length of wire up.
Now the serious business of the day begins. Usually the Morse key attracts a few inquisitive fingers but as this is billed as a hands-on event everyone seems to be up for it today.
With the aid of a chart of the Morse alphabet and brief instructions on the keying of a dot and a dash from me it is no time before eager hands are clutching prized certificates.
There are also questions to be answered. When, where and why did Morse originate? Is it still in use today? Have you ever heard an SOS message? All good stuff but it’s not all about Morse.
Stopping by for a chat are people who have just come across the very same Wireless Set/TV that their dad brought home years ago when they were still at school.
Old soldiers have just seen a 19 set and a 22 set and reminisce of times when they operated them at Catterick or was it Calcutta? The passage of time has distanced their minds from the exact location but wherever it was its good for a yarn. Then of course inevitably there are the Radio Amateurs
A fortnight earlier, then in company with Tony G3XQM, it seemed more than co-incidence that so many Isle of Wight Amateurs were present. It was the day of the Museums annual mid September Bus Show and it transpired that with a bus coming over on the ferry from the island for the Show, the members of the famous Brickfields ARS were making it an opportunity for a day out.
They deserved it, with the work they put in, running all those special events stations. The Needles Lighthouse and the Marconi sites come to mind, so it was great to meet up with a very interesting bunch.
There was the chap telling us of the bits of the original Marconi mast base that are still being turned up when the field at the site is ploughed. Another was the collector of old 405 line TVs, so many that they are housed in a 3,000 sq. ft. shed. Then there was the Intermediate License Holder who worked ZL with 50 watts and an inverted V on 80 mtrs. Makes you wonder.
Back to today and I’m still putting the children through their paces, or is it the other way around? Most of the names are short, Josh, Emma, Max, so the certificates are issuing thick and fast.
I complain of the need for a rest and then there steps forward a young lady who is going to help me out because she tells me she has a really long name. I'm occupied tidying up the shack whilst she sends.
"So you’re Madeleine?" I ask her. She smiles and nods her head. Her mother comments that it was clever because I wasn't even watching but mum is wrong, what was really clever was that this little ten year old has laid her hand on a key for the first time and sent her name at a fair clip, faultlessly.
Just before closing for the day another high spot occurs. By a combination of arm-twisting and leg-pulling an entire family, three children, mum, dad and grandma are talked into taking their Morse tests and as they meander off, still chuckling, past the mock-up of the bomber wireless cabin, each is grasping a certificate.
Signing out and making my way along the path to the station yard I reflect on the last few enjoyable hours but what is to come and the second reason for my visit today is not so pleasant.
The contract for the Sunday bus service is expiring today, probably because of a tightening of the purse strings by West Sussex County Council. So cos o' them mean ornery critters at Chichester I'm about to climb onto "The Last Stagecoach into Amberley".
Written by Ron Glover G0WGP
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Louis has a field day
For NFD this year MSARS again used our much treasured call, G5RV, for the two Metre station entry and, elsewhere in these pages, there is an account of the operation.
At some later date we will learn of our degree of success in the contest but before then I would like to take you back in time to an earlier NFD when G5RV himself competed.
The year is 1948. The Amateur Band allocation for two metres was released in two segments in 1948 and 1949 but it was not until ten years after that, in 1959, that the first VHF Field Day took place. Back in 1948 the contest Louis is taking part in is on HF and what’s more, in his preferred mode, CW
The local press picks up on the story and this is their reporter's version of the event.
"Crouched over their transmitting and receiving sets in two tents in a meadow behind the Running Mare, Galleywood, nine Chelmsford radio amateurs, several of whom have held licenses for over twenty years, contacted the world during the weekend. They were one of the five portable stations in Essex taking part in the National Field Day organized by the Radio Society of Great Britain.
The rules of this field day were that the amateurs must use portable sets, must be under canvas, aerials and masts must not be fixed to buildings and they must not use a mains electricity supply.
Although the members thoroughly enjoyed the field day, which started on Saturday at five in the evening and continued till five on Sunday, it was organized as a practice for making amateur stations available to the authorities in times of national emergency.
These radio "hams" are members of a world-wide movement which embraces every creed and colour in one brotherhood. Among them there is a prince and the mayor of a large English industrial town. They bar politics in their conversations and boast "ours is a world of total peace."
The two stations in Galleywood, which are known throughout the world by the call-signs G5RV and G2HPF transmitted on four wavelengths - G5RV on 170 and 80 metre bands and G2HBF on 20 and 40 metres.
They picked up messages from Jersey, C.I., Holland, Eire, Czechoslovakia, Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Belgium, Switzerland, Sweden, and Hungary.
Messages consisted simply of code words giving the strength of the signals and greetings. At other times the "hams" held conversations with other amateurs across the globe as easy as two people converse in a room, using no more power than is required for a motor car side lamp."
That report shows that the newspaperman had been well primed, and even in those instances where there is a suggestion of intrigue, with the operators "crouched over their transmitting and receiving sets" and "messages consisting of code words" it is likely that Louis would have approved. After all it was only eighteen months earlier that he'd been released from his SCU in Royal Signals where his wartime duties gave him scope for a spot of cloak and dagger.
Let us now look at the event from the alternative perspective, Louis' log and the entries for the 5th and 6th June 1948.
June 5th 1948
QTH - Meadow back of Running Mare, Galleywood
Tx. CO – PA. Input 4.4 W
Rx. HRO
Ant. 270’ long wire
What does that tell us? Well, for openers Louis wasn’t going to go short on creature comforts. The Running Mare, a short walk from Louis home in Galleywood Road, was his local, so how civilized is that? Incidentally, I've googled it and not only is the Running Mare still there but the Google Earth link shows that the meadow also remains in place.
The transmitter, the CO is almost certainly the Colpitts Oscillator, built by Louis in 1927, which survived to be exhibited by him when he was the guest of honour at the Leicester Rally in 1998.
For those of you unfamiliar with the HRO receiver, in its army designation it is the R106, has plug-in coils and weighs a ton. I’m exaggerating, maybe it’s only half a ton but you get the idea.
Louis, still fit from his army service and just four days shy of his 37th Birthday would have had his work cut out to lug it across the meadow but no doubt he would have had some help from the rest of his team. The long wire antenna; no problems there, the Google link shows plenty of trees surrounding the meadow to support 270 feet of wire.
With the contest scheduled to start at 1700 hrs, on the 5th of June, the five man team get off to a slow start, recording their first entry in the log at 1747, on 80 metres.
From then onwards, rotating, in shifts of from one to two hours, members are making a steady number of contacts, mostly Gs but a few from overseas are also giving and receiving good reports.
Once the log registers the last contact before midnight Louis changes the date to June 6th Sunday, confirming my thought that it is being maintained in BST. The contacts begin falling off around 01.30, so he now QSYs to Top Band where things are a lot livelier for a couple of hours.
There's a bit of a slack period after that but changing back to 80 metres at 5 o'clock changes their luck when Rotterdam and Jersey are logged. Rubbing the sleep from its eyes the rest of the country is waking up and from then onwards, by continually switching between the two bands, the team keep things ticking over until the last contact of the contest is made at 1659. Louis makes the final entry in the log. “1700hrs. OFF STATION G5RV/P CLOSED”
In all, 114 contacts and against each of them Louis has recorded the number of points awarded, ranging from one to four, and to begin with the numbers aren’t making much sense. Distance worked doesn’t seem to have a great deal of bearing on the result.
How can it be that a contact between Chelmsford and Chingford, in the same county, qualifies for three points whilst Chelmsford to a GM in Stirling is only worth one? I ponder this for a minute or two and then it all clicks into place. You calculate one point for a UK base station, two points for an overseas base station with a bonus of two points for /P for either.
Nothing startling by way of DX but nevertheless satisfying to work an Easy Item an Oboe King and an Oboe Nan. Indulge me; I’m still back in 1948, visualizing Louis and his boys dismantling their gear and trooping into the Running Mare for a sustaining pint or two so that they can cart that blooming great HRO back home.
Written by Ron Glover G0WGP
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Over The Hills and Faraway
"We need a new hedge-trimmer, do you use one?" enquired Louis.
I told him that I did. He then wanted to know, what make, what size and where did I get it? I gave him chapter and verse but he was a bit flummoxed by B and Q. Where are they, he wondered. When I told him, Lewes Road Brighton, he simply said, "Oh"
Now 'Oh', depending on inflexion, can carry a variety of meanings. This particular 'Oh', with a dropping cadence, carried an air of resignation.
For Louis, former world traveller for both business and pleasure, a battle with the traffic into Brighton, in his now advanced years, was too daunting to contemplate. Sensing his disappointment I offered to take him. He didn’t need asking twice.
When could we go he wanted to know. How about Wednesday, I suggested, it's ten per cent off for pensioners day. Louis' eyes lit up, the prospects were growing rosier by the minute.
The following Wednesday, Louis and Nelida, at first over-awed by the size of the superstore gradually navigated their way to the garden section. The hedge-trimmers required careful assessment, Size, weight, wattage, cable length and doubtless a mental calculation of what the ten per cent reduction represented, all came into Louis' lengthy and critical analysis.
No such hesitation from Nelida, a kid let loose in a sweetie shop, she was piling cartons of bone-meal, sulphate of ammonia and John Innes into a groaning trolley without thought of the cost, ten percent discount notwithstanding.
The car loaded, we set off for home, though the Brighton traffic back along Lewes Road, climb up Coldean Lane to Old Boat Corner and across the top of the Downs.
As we drew near to the Beacon, on the bridleway, on the ridge of the Downs to the east, a figure on horseback, a dark outline against the midday sky, was making his way, at a trot, up the slight incline.
I knew of Louis' passion for horse riding. He had told me of the stables at Hanslope Park, where he was stationed in the nineteen forties and where he had the opportunities to ride.
This pursuit had continued through the years and even more recently, escaping the British winter, in South America where he divided his time between putting his CX5RV call on air and saddling up the horse provided by his brother-in-law
I glanced across at Louis and sure enough his gaze was concentrated on the same sight that had captured my attention.
By this time, the rider had broken into a canter and reaching the crest of the rise to where the bridleway took a downward slope, the horse and rider set off like the wind.
From the passenger seat I heard Louis murmur, "Lucky Devil".
I made no comment to break the spell of his daydream.
He was miles away, ------- about seven thousand; galloping across the hills in Uruguay.
Written by Ron Glover G0WGP
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It was the week after the annual Jack and Jill car-park meeting and Louis was keen to learn how the event had gone.
I told him that there had been a good turnout , that there had been quite a lot of radio activity, there had also been a bit of a nip in the air with enough wind to keep the kites aloft. He was particularly intrigued by the account of the kite flying and before long had launched into his own kite story.
Back in his early days as a trainee technician with the Marconi Company at Chelmsford the stores department held a fascination for Louis.
It wasn't just because all the lovely wireless goodies were laid out as if in some Aladdin's cave. There was an added attraction. Any item taken out of stores and later returned was considered second hand and sold at a reduced price, even if it had been used only for display or demonstration purposes. So, for a budding inventor and keen construction whiz-kid on trainee technicians pay, this was right up Louis' street.
On this particular day Louis was sorting through some of the odds and ends, in an area of the stores away from the more formal racked equipment, when part of a wooden frame, with canvas attached, caught his eye. Hallo, he thought, what’s this? Moving some of the other gear away, he got a better look. It couldn’t be could it? It was. What a find. A Marconi Kite!
The use of kites by Marconi in his early pioneering wireless experiments was well known to Louis. He had lapped up the stories of the six kites shipped out to St John’s in 1901 after the tower on Signal Hill collapsed in the wind.
How the first two kites suffered a similar fate, one crashing into the sea when the line parted and the second smashing into the valley alongside the headland site before the first ever trans-Atlantic wireless signals were heard on the 12th of December 1901.
The kites, hexagonal, about six feet by six feet, were then re-packed and sent back to the Marconi works at Chelmsford. There had been further use of kites of different design and in 1910, a box-kite enabled a record-breaking, 3,500 mile transmission to be made.
It had never occurred to Louis up until then that he might be in a position to get his hands on an item of such legendary equipment. However, supposing the store-man was unaware of the significance of this piece of kit, then perhaps...
Louis went for the casual approach: "I see you’ve an old kite down there. It might be a bit of fun to see if I could get it going. How much do you want for it?" The store-man was diffident. The 'old kite' wasn’t a stock item and as such didn’t appear on any regular price list so how was he to gauge its value?
Any possible sale looked like stuttering to a halt, so, forgetting the casual approach, Louis came up with an offer. "How about half a crown" Big mistake. In his previous dealings with Louis the storeman had learnt a couple of things about him. One, was that he believed in the old saying that a fool and his money are soon parted and two, was that Louis was no fool. The storeman said he would think about it and to come back and see him later.
The storeman went a step further than think about it. He sought advice from his boss. "How much is that 'old kite' worth", he asked. His boss said, "Why do you want to know"? "Because I’ve been offered half-a-crown for it" came the reply. "Who by?" inquired the boss. The storeman told him. The reply from the boss was succinct. "You can tell young Varney, or any other smart Alec, that they can keep their half crowns in their pockets". He then went on to give the storeman a brief history of the part played by kites earlier in the century.
Unaware that the storeman had now been briefed, Louis went back to Stores later that day hoping to conclude the transaction. Instead, a stony-faced storeman conveyed the message from his boss, plus a few terse comments of his own. Louis departed with a flea in his ear. Clearly this was not the day on which his venture into big business, or the kite for that matter, would get off the ground.
Written by Ron Glover G0WGP
