On the Sweeny wire

by Charles R. Barnes

“Mrs. Gold Dollar and me was so supprised that we couldn’t chatter. And that’s some supprised for a woman. Then Mrs. Gold Dollar come to. She dug down in her shoppin’ bag, and brought out a hundred.

“‘Well,’ she says, ‘somebody’s got to lose somethin’ this day, Mr. Sweeny,’ she says. ‘Go put this on Roller Skates for me, to show,’ she says.”

TURN THE DIALS

Perhaps the next time the radio set begins to howl as if a dozen cat fights were mewling inside of the loud speaker, it is not static that is interfering with the reception from the broadcasting station, but a newspaper photograph which is being sent through the air.

For an event has occurred that has been anticipated for some time—it has been found possible to send pictures for long distances by wireless. Though the apparatus has not been brought to that point of perfection where we can sit at home and see, cast upon a screen, moving pictures, the while spoken or sung words of the performer issue from the loud speaker—this development will probably come later—photographs can be transferred as great a distance as across the Atlantic Ocean.

The picture to be sent is first translated into radio impulses by photoelectric cells. These radio impulses are broadcast, received on the other side of the ocean, where they actuate a receiving apparatus which reproduces the picture as a sketch in hot brown wax. The wax flows from a fountain pen, which is operated by radio impulses. The reproduction is a sketch in wavy lines of wax, which is deposited on the paper a little thicker than the ink on an engraved card.

So, the next time the loud speaker emits squeaks, howls, squeals, or absolutely impossible-to-be-identified noises—don’t blame it on static! Just turn the dials and try to get something else, for you may be listening to a drawing or a photograph flying through the air in bits.

Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 7, 1926 issue of The Popular Magazine. The prescient description of television that would “probably come later,” included here, appeared on the final page of the story.