I joined EKCO Electronics in 1961 as an indentured apprentice, starting in the television production lines. After a spell in the test department at Rochford where I developed an interest in radar, I was soon introduced to VJ Cox through the agency of one of his lads with whom I shared digs in Brightwell Avenue.
I do not recollect that the interview with 'Himself' was the ordeal that was apparently traditional. Maybe I had been properly primed by the said agency. Shortly after the event I found myself as a sort of Apprentice Boy of All-work in Radar 1.
There was a protocol for addressing 'Himself'. A couple of the departmental managers were allowed to call him VJ. Everyone else had to use Sir, except apprentices who were expected to treat him as God.
When I joined the lab, the following were already there, as far as I remember:
Ray Moxon
John Churchill
Robin Wilcox
Colin Pike
Brian Linge
John Wallace
Ken Simms
Frank Burnhill
Ron Lee (who always seemed to be shaking things and squirting hot brine at them for long periods).
The Gaffer, Jack Halsall, lived in the adjoining office with Bill Graville and others.
Also lurking about was the resident Laboratory Assistant nicknamed Yogi Bear, who was even more of a tearaway than I was. He had developed to the level of an art form the technique of discretely disappearing when anything half resembling work reared its ugly head, else he went off sick with some improbable reason such as hard pad or distemper?
Brian Couchy was also around, but I cannot remember whether he was with us or part of Maurice Wedd's outfit next door in Radar 2. His wife, Gill, occasionally drifted in and out. She worked in one of the offices, perhaps personnel, because she was the only person to refer to Yogi by his proper name.
A few other people who I remember include Sid Parr in the winding shop. He was the only known person able to roll his own cigarettes using only two strands of baccy. We developed a scale of calibre, in Parr units, for roll-ups, based on his technique. Zero Parr was equal to the empty fag paper, and one kParr was equivalent to a Player's Navy Cut. Few of the others who rolled their own could get much below 50 Parr.
There was a chap called Armstrong in the Standards Lab downstairs. He and his department moved to somewhere round the back of the R&D block, and his old lab became the Inverter Lab. Yogi was permanently assigned to him, shortly after which Armstrong went off permanently sick!
I spent much of my time testing scanners in the radar shack on the roof. The shed was built with one side made of Perspex, presumably to be transparent to 10GHz. This is not far off infrared, so the atmosphere in the shed resembled that of a greenhouse in summer.
One major project that I remember was the development of the Electric Fence!
One of the senior managers was going camping but his wife apparently did not like cattle to approach the tent too closely so an electric fence was made, the required specification being that the output power and PRF was to be close to that of the current the radar set?
We calculated that if a cow should touch the thing with its snout, it would probably jump over the moon, if it were still capable of jumping at all.
It seemed to me that practical joking was a main occupation of every one in the department. I was told that this discipline had been imported along with those transferring from Malmesbury some years before.
I particularly remember the case of the Little Gem Fuse Blower.
A nice little box the size of a half-brick was obtained and sprayed with Radar Black Crackle Paint. The engraving shop supplied a regulation label marked Little Gem Fuse Blower followed by a suitable military part number. A mains cable came out of a grommet at one end and was terminated with a plug, which fitted the sockets around each bench. Inside the unit the three wires of the cable were soldered together and the lid screws Araldited in to prevent removal. The device was placed in a strategic position on one of the benches by the door.
By their very nature, engineers are an inquisitive species and tend to interfere with anything that does not require fixing before it's broke. Hence, no one was able to resist this device.
The usual procedure was:
- 1. Inspect device
- 1.1 Pick up
- 1.2 Read label
- 1.3 Mutter 'Wonder what this does'?
- 2. Plug in
- 2.1 Discover what it does
- 2.2 Pull out plug and carefully replace device as if untouched
- 2.4 Furtively slink back out through door
- 2.5 Avoid eye contact with the crowd falling about behind the glass partition
- 3. Get stepladder and roll of fuse wire to repair the power supply to the room
Unfortunately, in 1964 I was out of my indentures and left the company, eventually finding my way to Cornwall where I remain.
Many of the electronic and mechanical tweaks and dodges that I acquired in those days have stood me in good stead to this day.
However, I am having increasing difficulty in finding people who can speak the same language. How many recent graduates know what a slide-rule is, or a klystron? What is a getter?
Any fool nowadays knows that a microwave is a machine for warming-up ones lunch and not a packet of energy calculated to addle the brains of those with mobile telephone permanently clapped to the side of their heads.
Regrettably, some of my colleagues of that time must be no more. However, I would be delighted to hear from any of them. I can be contacted at:
pjt@KernowMicro.org.uk
