Check amazon for Triumphs & Trials of an Organ Builder
Being a restless experimenter, I've undertaken a few projects which ran into some bad weather in the marketplace. In each of these cases, I was completely confident that the project would sail smoothly on a sea of friendly acceptance and sublime success. Like an adventurous mariner excitedly setting sail in a craft of his own making, I believed my new boat would meet only the gentlest wave and calmest breeze. In spite of my resolute confidence in the soundness of my new idea, I was, at times, rudely reminded that the marketplace, as with the sea, can turn stormy, whether we're sailing on it or not. On these particular occasions, as I found myself being tossed unceremoniously into the cold water, I was thankful that I had long ago learned how to swim. Let me present a few examples.
By the early 1940s, events in Europe led to concern in this country for self-preservation in the event of war. I recall reading and hearing about the possibility of our having to deal with air raids. One of the most prominent aspects of dealing with an air raid was the use of the conventional, motor-driven siren devices used to warn the people to find shelter. Well, I thought I had come up with a better solution to the problem of building and deploying sirens all over the country-the Allen Siren.
I had discovered that I could modify the circuitry of an Allen Organ oscillator so that the output tone would "wail"-just like sirens are supposed to "wail." By amplifying this tone and using a public-address type of speaker arrangement I managed to produce a "wailing" sound of ear-splitting intensity. I visualized a grateful reception by the "authorities" when I offered them my siren idea. Instead I received a "thanks, but no thanks" reply, thus ending that particular adventure.
During the 1960s, we were looking for more penetration of the home market. In trying to come up with new products for this market I thought I had hit on a "sure" winner. As I let my mind drift about searching for something that would be appealing to me if I were the customer, I thought about the circus. I vividly remembered seeing the spectacular pageantry, smelling the aroma of fresh popcorn, and hearing the circus organ-the calliope. Yes! The calliope! Of course! A miniature electronic calliope had to be a "sure" winner-and it was certainly organ-related. I thought that almost everyone would surely want their own calliope. My calliope idea was molded into what looked like an excellent product. It sounded like a calliope; it played like a calliope; it even looked somewhat like a calliope. Yet, it was small enough to be rolled out of the way into a corner, serving then as decoration and conversation piece, until its owner once again had that overwhelming urge to play his or her circus organ, at which time it could simply be wheeled out ready to rekindle recollections of those wonderful magic moments at the circus.
When we announced our calliope and presented it to the market, I was stunned by how few calliope players there really are in this world. What I envisioned as a marketing splash amounted only to a marketing spatter. What a disappointment! I am consoled, however, by a very small but loyal cadre of calliope enthusiasts who have the same fondness for the calliope as I do-enthusiasts who still, to this day, call or write about either obtaining parts for their vintage instruments or obtaining a whole new calliope-actually hoping that we still manufacture them.
Again in the "smashing" new product category, in the late 1960s, we had the Allen "Carousel." The Carousel was a "one-man-band"-a musician's dream. It had all sorts of instruments ready to be called into play at the flick of a stop-mandolins, piano, banjo, balalaika, zither, guitar, and sleigh bells, to name just a few. It even included one of my patented inventions, "flying hammers." The flying hammer idea was sparked by a gift I received from my wife, Martha. She had come across an obsolete, zither-type, acoustic instrument called a Marxaphone and gave it to me as a gift. It was equipped with a mechanical, repeating-type striking mechanism for each string. As I studied the unusual striking mechanism on this instrument, I thought I might be able to build something that would perform a similar function in an organ.
After experimenting with different arrangements, I finally perfected what I called "flying hammers." Those keys of the organ equipped with flying hammers were fitted with a spring metal contact onto the end of which was attached a metal weight. When the key was snapped down, the weighted spring contact would vibrate so as to make and break the electrical connection, which turned the tone generator on and off repetitiously. The overall effect sounded remarkably like the "tremolo" of a mandolin player.
Although "I" thoroughly enjoyed the sounds that could be created with the Carousel line of instruments and was convinced that we had a real winner, the Carousel did not sail especially well in the marketplace. In the end, I would have to call it just another adventure at sea. Nevertheless, as in the case of the calliope adventure, there are still a few Carousel purchasers who insist that their particular instrument is one of the greatest we ever built for home entertainment. Yet, in spite of the satisfaction I got from pleasing these few happy customers, these new-product adventures remind me of the wisdom of the often-heard, but less-practiced, business adage-that to be a broad commercial success, a product must suit the needs of the broad commercial marketplace rather than reflect only the parochial enthusiasm of its designer.
Then there was my simple solution to the problem of bombs being either taken or placed secretly on board commercial aircraft for evil purposes. Years ago, such bombs were occasionally used by people to hijack planes. Today, we are also faced with terrorists who use bombs for more sinister reasons. Because of my experience with radio transmitters and the like, I knew that energy can be transmitted through space and transformed into heat at a distant location. This fact, in my mind, was clearly the key to building a foolproof "bomb detector." I visualized a procedure by which the items to be checked for bombs would be placed into a remote shed where they would be exposed to a suitably powerful energy beam. I reasoned that all bombs require a detonator which would easily be detonated by exposure to the beam.
On February 2, 1960, I wrote this letter to the government agency in charge of such matters revealing my "clear" solution to the problem.
I offer the following suggestion as a possible remedy for the bomb threats (and perhaps actual bombings) with which commercial aviation is now being afflicted.
I recommend that a "shed" be installed on every ramp somewhere between the airline terminal and the location of the plane that is being loaded. This shed would be equipped with an electronic detonator. There are many devices which could be applied for this purpose, such as a pulse of radar or infra-red heat. It might be advisable to separate the baggage so that it can be pushed or conveyed through the detonator's focus. It would also be practical for the passengers to walk through this area, one at a time. Naturally an explosion will result if anyone has an explosive in their luggage. If this were to happen just once, this situation would certainly never re-occur.
By publicizing the system in newsreel (with an actual demonstration) and the wire services, it is probable that a bomb situation would never again present itself and, of course, telephone threats could be ignored.
If I can be of service in offering further explanation of such a device, do not hesitate to contact me. I received no response to my letter and wondered whether my idea was considered harebrained.
As bomb threats increased in the 1980s, I once again, as recently as February 20, 1989, reminded the authorities about my "clear" solution by means of the following letter.
I note with interest that the FAA and also counterparts in foreign governments are wrestling with the problem of what to do about preventing future situations which might replicate the happenings of Pan Am Flight 103.
Enclosed is a copy of a letter that I wrote to the FAA in February 1960. The relevant technology existed then and, of course, most certainly exists now. Admittedly, there are numerous negative ramifications to such a plan. Yet, it does not appear that any alternative has yet been devised.
I am sure that I can speak for the millions of citizens who are hoping for a means of preventing another "Pan Am Flight 103."
Although I did, this time, receive a response by letter signed by The Secretary of Transportation, it amounted to a polite "No thank you." My "bomb detector" did not sail well at all, yet I would love to see some other adventurous mariner conquer this bombing plague.