After writing this column for nearly a year, I seem to have found my niche among Mix readers. I have been re warded by questions, comments, tips and suggestions; all are greatly appreciated. Because Mix predates the project studio and the cover includes the legend “Professional Audio and Music Product- ion,” I was surprised to discover how many do-it-yourselfers and knowledgeable technicians read this magazine.

Just yesterday, a customer called up to send in an ADAT for overhaul. Nine months before he had called with an emergency. I was the only person who suggested popping the cover to look at the belt. (It had either broken or slipped off.) While all equipment carries a warning label—AVIS! Risque de Choc—I encourage all engineers to investigate their gear safely. No booby traps are set off when the cover is removed—though you should disconnect the power and wear shoes and socks.

Get to know what’s normal, buy a service manual, own good tools and don’t be in a hurry. At a minimum, you’ll become more aware of the heat that is generated, which should make you more considerate when stuffing gear into an enclosed rackspace. Knowledge is power, success builds confidence, and experimentation helps you to ask the right questions. So, rather than talking deep-fried tech this month, I thought a few short stories—some related and some not—might shed some light on this technician’s perspective. First, a bit about me and my path toward maintenance.

TO SIR WITH LOVE
RCA Victor 45 rpm "Victrola,"

Figure 1: An RCA Victor 45 rpm "Victrola," circa 1955. (click image for larger view).
It all started in the late ’50s as I watched my mom and dad play 45 rpm records on a little turntable with a fat spindle plugged into the back of a black-and-white TV set. (Figure 1 shows the exact model in question.) My father got great pleasure from hearing his favorite music; the “connections” from turntable to speaker delivered more than “just sound,” it was about romance and passion and spine tingles.

When tubes and capacitors needed changing, I couldn’t get close enough, zooming in until he would say, “Get out of my light.” An audio career may not have been my father’s vision, but seeing his passion, hearing him sing with gusto—and with a very respectable voice, I might add—inspired me more by proximity than conscious effort. All I can say is, “Thanks Dad!”

SHOCK THERAPY
 During the time I lived with my parents, we never owned a new TV. (Can you imagine that today?) Our second boob tube was a second-generation B&W tube set that used cheesy printed circuit boards. Then as now, PCBs suffered from cold solder joints, and this set had intermittent audio. At first I smacked the side of the cabinet to restore the sound to my favorite cartoons. My father knew to apply pressure to an I-F can—an Intermediate Frequency tuning coil—on the audio board. Later, I learned his “repair technique,” reaching in while the set was on, only inches away from the high-voltage anode of the picture tube. (It was only 15,000 volts or so, but the current was low.) Again, I ask, can you imagine this happening today?

The geek seeds were planted early for me, for most of my geek friends and perhaps for you as well. Somehow, through all of the experimentation, I avoided death by electrocution. That is to say, I have no idea what effect any accidental shock therapies might have had on my brain.

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Reprinted with permission from Magazine, February, 2001
© 2000, Intertec Publishing, A Primedia Company All Rights Reserved


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