Radio broadcast .. (1922-30)

340 Radio Broadcast "dudes" of both sexes strolled over from the Wylie-Way Camp near by. All were eager for a chance to hear even one intelligible word from the outside world. But in the comments of those who had attended previous trials, only to g9 away in disappointment, there was a note of doubt and even of scoffing, as Marksheffel mounted his big loop aerial and tinkered with his connecting wires. At last all was ready and Marksheffel raised his hand for silence. He swung his aerial to and fro and twisted the knobs of his tuners. For five minutes this continued, his countenance growing longer. The doubters smiled and whispered. "She's dead as a salted mackerel!" the operator announced in vexation. He flung open the lid of his box and began tracing out his wires, while a young cowboy disgustedly remarked : "This radio business is sure the bunk. Here I've rode ten miles to-night after a hard day in the saddle to hear talk come out of that little black coffin and nothing comes. I've done that same thing half-a-dozen times before, but never again. I'm through." "Coffin is right, Jim," put in his mate. "There's a dead one in it. Come on, let's go." Then Marksheffel spoke excitedly. " Here's the trouble!" he cried. "A broken connection! I'll stick the ends together and try it again." Once more he clapped the phones to his ears and began adjusting the set. Then slowly over his countenance spread that look of rapture seen only on the face of the searcher in the air for something he at last finds. "I've got it now! Quiet, please!" he said. "There's considerable static, but I can hear Uncle John telling his bedtime story in the Times tower in Los Angeles. I'll see if I can't clear out some more of the static." A few moments more and he handed the phones to the nearest spectator, who happened to be the disgruntled young cowboy himself. That worthy tried vainly to get the head set on over his sombrero, but finally discarded the hat and put the receivers gingerly to his ears. Instantly he jerked them off and pressed them into the hands of his pal. " It's there!" he shouted in delight. " Listen, Bob! It's real, honest-to-gawd talk!" Then to Marksheffel he declared: "1 take back all I said. You done it, Mister." Bob, too, tried to jam the head set over his two-gallon hat, amid the laughter of the crowd, but in time got it in place. He also listened but a second and passed on the phones. Neither had listened long enough to understand what had been heard; for the moment they were possessed by the astounding fact that words were coming out of the sky. Other phones were soon attached, the head sets separated into single units and passed around. While the company drank in the broadcasted messages and music, Marksheffel busied himself adjusting the apparatus to eliminate as. far as possible the static which was still interfering. Later that evening be began bringing in other broadcasting stations. There came a jazz orchestra from San Francisco, the daily news from Kansas City, a lecture on psychology from Los Angeles, and music, both vocal and instrumental, from other places. A peculiar feature of the situation, as developed that evening and verified later, was that no broadcasting could be heard from stations either to the north or to the south of us, but only from those directly, or almost directly, east and west. But a grand and glorious evening it was for us castaways.