SOUNDS OVER THE RADIO.

Otago Witness, Issue 4048, 13 October 1931, Page 66

SOUNDS OVER THE RADIO.

They are rarely real, explains a writer in the Scientific American (New York) wno credits Good News, published by the Radiotron Company, for his text. The necessity for imitative devices may be realised when we reflect that it would scarcely be convenient to fire off a real gun before the microphone, or to bring actual automobiles or railway trains into the broadcasting studio. The imitations, however, we are assured, are “ just as good ” as the originals. How they have been developed by Sound-Technician Kelly, of the National P -adcasting Company' is explained as follows: “ When out of the night and your loud speaker come the screaming whistle of fire apparatus, the rumble of distant thunder, the roar of the wind, the crack ling of a fire, the of a canary, the blare of a taxi horn, the heavy' drum of a cloudburst, or the sound of waves gently breaking on a sandy beach, you know the genius of N. Ray Kelly, sotuid technician for the National Broadcasting Company, is at work.

“ Mr Kelly has invented and developed many machines for the reproduction of sound effects, and a visit to his penthouse laboratory’ will soon have you believing that you have been in the yards of a great railroad, or that you have just weathered a blustering storm. “ The newest of a long list of soundeffect instruments is a simple wooden box, approximately three feet square. It contains a conglomeration of apparatus calculated to reproduce accurately the noises coincident with modern railroad operation. It is called the ‘ one-man railroad,’ and, if all goes well, Kelly expects to have his latest ‘ gadget ’ on the air during railroad programmes within a very short time.

“ To capture accurately the chugs, the puffs, the hiss of steam exhausts, the clickety-cliek of rail heads, the shriek of whistles, the grinding of brakes, the clank of driving rods and other associated rail racket, Kelly spent hours at the Sunnyside, Long Island, yards of tiie Pennsvlvan i a Rai 1 road.

“ While at the yards Kelly listened raptly to ‘booster’ engines, Pullman cars, gondolas, and other rolling stock. He stored away a knowledge of the conglomerate noises, he memorised the shriek of brakes and the scream of whistles, he timed the puffs of the locomotives, and studied the clank of shifting switches. Not one detail of sound escaped his listening cars.” But the “ one-man railroad ” is only one of Mr Kelly’s developments. With a wave of the hand he will indicate an entire “ garage ” on a wooden board two feet square, to which are nailed a great variety of automobile horns, including the hair-raising fire department siren. By' pressing a few buttons he can reproduce a fleet of taxis, the mad rush of fire apparatus, or the blaring horns of a New Y’ork theatre hour traffic tie-up. The reporter goes on: — “The bewildered visitor scarcely’ has time to make the acquaintance of the ‘ garage ’ before Kelly blandly comments ‘ Gosh, it sounds like a thunder-storm outside,’ and sure enough, whango! goes the roar and rumble of celestial artillery. Kelly shows him the big ‘thunderdrum,’ a four-foot frame across which heavy parchment is tightly stretched. “ Kelly next pulls a cord running through the skin-covered bottom of a pail, giving a very terrifying imitation of a lion’s roar; whistles blow in realistic imitation of a dozen different birds; a threshing machine bangs and rattles as‘a bit of intricate machinery’ and a baby’s rattle are agitated. “ Sometimes Kelly conducts his visitor to a vacant studio, arranges a microphone, and escorts his guest into the glass-windowed monitor room. Returning to the studio microphone, Kelly’ crumples some stiff paper before the open end of the ‘mike,’ and the visitor is surprised to feel himself transported to the side of a crackling fire. “ Still standing before the microphone Kelly’ taps his head with a padded stick, and the onlooker is ready’ to swear he has heard a dog thumping his tail. Wa .Vew rifle or pistol shots. But it

is only Kelly striking a padded board with a flat stick. “ The creaking of a porch swing is reproduced by' gently rocking back and forth in an old rusty swivel chair placed before the ‘ mike.’ Animals are heard crashing through the underbrush when Kelly’ squeezes the straw of a household broom, and the sound of steady rain is produced when excelsior is rubbed against the microphone frame. A torrential downpour is affected by pouring salt on wax paper held before the ‘ mike.’ “ ‘ Many sound effects are obtained by sheer accident,’ Kelly explains. And to carry out this statement he cites that particular occasion when an announcer stood absent-mindedly rubbing his fingers across the teeth of his pocket comb and developed the mournful notes of a tree toad. “ The gentle washing of lazy waves along the ocean, front is reproduced by a circular wheel with an eight-inch hoilow rim covered by copper screening, inside of which rolls a handful of harddried peas.” The wind machine is probably’ the bestknown device in Kelly’s laboratory. A canvas sheet is laid over a paddle-wheel winch. As the handle is turned, the paddles beat against the canvas. Winds of all kinds are imitated on this machine, including storms that put Nature to shame. In conclusion: “ Kelly’ has a broken-down automobile in the laboratory. It is not a real one. It is merely a battered wash boiler filled with assorted junk, and equipped with a small electric motor, to the shaft of which are attached several pieces of leather strap. As the motor runs, the boiler is shaken by hand and the leather straps beat against the debris. It really sounds like an ant ique ‘ horseless carriage ’ trying to come down the street. “ Many’ modern programmes must have their airplanes. Consequently, another use of straps is to reproduce the hum of airplane engines. An electric motor whirls- leather straps against drumheads, at varying speeds, ranging from the slow splutter of warming motors to the high-pitched drone of the take-off.”