history


2
Aug 16

Revolutionary canvas and defying physics

On the loading dock today was this large canvas roller. These things intrigue me to no end, even as I know I will likely never have a real use for them myself. But that’s the way of it. Great logo, too:

Dandux is a product of C.R. Daniels, Inc. That company started out in New York City, but was purchased by the Trumpbour brothers soon after, in 1920. They moved to New Jersey, and now also have two custom facilities in Tennessee and Maryland, where this particular roller was produced. The second generation Trumpbour men at Daniels have passed away in recent years and you can find their obits online. They both had military service, which continues a long tradition in their family. Apparently eight of their Trumpbour ancestors fought in the Revolutionary War.

Favorite tidbit, Edward Trumpbour Jr. did not suffer mediocrity, “or as he would say ‘Meatballs.'”

Let’s find out about those 18th century Trumpbours … seems they were of Dutch descent. And at least some of them were enlisted in New York’s Ulster regiments as Tories. Two of the men from that era died in Canada in the 1800s, which is where a lot of Loyalists found themselves during and after the Revolution. Maybe we’re too far removed, in the sense of family history, to talk about the brother-against-brother aspect of that war, but here, it seems, we might have an example of it.

Anyway, their great-great-great-and-so-on grandchildren are still here.

We rode our bikes, where I thought nothing of Trumpbours or ducks or canvas or any other thing. If you chase fast people like The Yankee you don’t have time to think:

I took a bunch of pictures of her on this stretch of the bike ride, one of the few places I could pull alongside. But she kept outrunning my focus, which was weird. She wasn’t approaching the speed of light, but she was somehow defeating it nevertheless.

I did improve on a half-mile climb by four seconds. The cycling app says I presently have the third-fastest time up that climb for the year, which can only mean that most people don’t ride all the way down to the boat ramp and then back up. There’s no way my pitifully slow time should be on a leaderboard.


15
Jul 16

Found in the Radio-Television Center

I was in the RTV building today and wandered by some great built-in display cases. The history of the program and fair amount of the gear that makes up the business was there. Like this Hitachi FP-3030, from 1976, for example.

It was a smaller camera for its day, but it also did some genius stuff on the inside. I won’t bore you with the details, but it created a more efficient signal which, among other things, allowed black and white televisions to receive color broadcasts and formed normal black and white pictures. It would also allow a color TV to take a black and white broadcast as well as a color picture during color transmission. Remember, this is the 1970s and color TV had just reached 50 percent household penetration, so this would have been important for a lot of homes. Also, this camera cost just under $20,000 in today’s money.

A magnetic tape recorder/dictation machine from Webster-Chicago:

I don’t know anything about this device, but the company dates back to 1914 and they started selling ancestors of this recorder in the early 1940s. At a time when high tech was still very expensive, and not even a term, Webster-Chicago sold more than 40,000 “electronic memory” units in 1947 and 1948 alone. There is an Electronic Memory unit on display, too, but glare on the display glass ruined the pictures. Webster-Chicago started declining in the 1950s with new magnetic tape technology prevailing over the old wire recorders, and when foreign recorders entered the American marketplace, that was pretty much it for the old company.

Friends, please meet the most handsome figure on the lot, the RCA-77:

The 77 was released in 1945, but it just oozed 1930s style and incredible sound quality. Ribbon microphones, like this one, are always popular, and this RCA product creates some great tones. It was the standard through the 1950s and you’ll still see them in use in studios today.

If you see one for less than a couple grand, buy it, because the seller doesn’t understand the marketplace.


7
Jul 16

Stardust is a good song, y’all

I spent a bit of time in the Radio and Television Building today. In there we have a recently renovated 2,800-square-foot teaching studio, and the WTIU public television studios. WTIU is said to be one of the few high definition teaching facilities in the entire country. The WFIU public radio facilities are in there too. There are classes, labs, offices and the coolest poster ever:

Ordinarily I would try to avoid taking pictures of pictures, but that one, Curious George and curious kid, was too cool not to share.

I keep wandering by this statue of Hoagy Carmichael. He was from here. He went to school at IU and became a lawyer, but he always wanted to be a musician and so he composed “Stardust,” “Georgia On My Mind,” “Heart and Soul,” “The Nearness of You” and more.

And in the sculpture he is really laboring over that piano. But in a cool, jazzy way.

Stardust:

More Hoagy:

This is the Monroe Lake Dam, on Salt Creek, which was the turnaround point for our bike ride this evening:

It was built from 1960-1964. It is 1,350 feet long and 93 feet tall. The lake itself is the largest in the state. Well, the largest that is entirely in one state, I’ve read. If you’re really into the master plans of dams, I have one for you.

I’m more into empty road pictures, myself:

Not seen, everyone in our little riding group.

I also made a video of the ride:


15
Jun 16

Transcontinental history

“A dramatic era in transportation was born.”

And if you keep reading after that it is worth it:

We took my mother-in-law back to the airport for her flight home yesterday. I saw that plaque and the propeller reproduction above it. I’ll give you two guesses which one I saw first.

But think of that, in 1929, the trip across the country was cut from four days to less than two. I know people who were alive then. I wonder if it seemed like a wonder to their contemporaries. Ahh, this is what it was like.

Think of it as they did. It would take between four to six months to ride a horse from coast to coast — depending on your circumstance, and that’s if you knew the proper route. And then along came the transcontinental railroad.

So anytime before 1869 it was months. When the transcontinental railroad was completed you could be on the other coast in three-and-a-half days. And then, just sixty years later, less than two days. Today, of course, you can fly from New York to Los Angeles in five hours. A bit less if the jet stream doesn’t interfere. But to take trains and planes in 1929, and be on the west coast in two days, man what a marvel.

Alas, the Transcontinental Air Transport, built by “the father of commercial aviation in America” Clement Melville Keys, was hit by the Depression, lower-than-expected demand, political manueverings and one high profile air tragedy. They lasted less than a year and would get bought and gobbled up in a series of mergers.

Today, you can watch an entire loop around the country in five minutes. I wonder what Keys — a teacher, a journalist, a business man and, finally, an aviation mogul — would think of that?

For alternatives, you could do it, today, on a bike in about two months. The fastest walk across the country was in the 1980s, at 60 days. The fastest run shaves 18 days off that time.

You can still take Amtrak over a four-day journey and, if you refused to be impressed like the person that wrote this, it is just the worst thing in the world, gah.


8
Jun 16

A walk around part of the IU campus

Today one of our friends and colleagues gave us a walking tour around the main part of the campus. It is a big place. Quite attractive. Almost all of the buildings are made from local limestone, so it sort of looks like Hogwarts. But it is also big enough that a quick walking tour makes it all a bit hard to digest. (Mostly I started wondering what they aren’t good at here. The reputation of this place is pretty incredible.) It’ll take a bit of time.

But, here, this is part of our new building, Franklin Hall:

When I was up for my interview at the beginning of the year the students were still working away in Ernie Pyle Hall. The great journalist was an Indiana student and that’s his statue out front, there. When the students come back in the fall they’ll see his statue there, the famed Ernie Pyle desk inside and a lot of new opportunities.

Franklin dates back to 1907 but is right now enjoying the finishing touches of a $22 million renovation. You can’t go inside just yet. Next month, though, we move in. (Which is fine, I’m ready for a break from lifting and carrying cardboard.)

Franklin Hall was once the library, and later an administrative building and will now be home to the newly created Media School. It is going to be an incredible facility. My office is in there somewhere:

Right next to Franklin are the Sample Gates. Designed to look older than they are. They only go back to the 1980s, but the gates have a weird history prior to that. In the 1960s a donation toward building some version of the gates was consider “wasteful alumni spending” and ever since then alumni everywhere have been sure to spend their own money wisely.

Anyway, they are named after Edson Sample’s family:

In a twist of fate, it was long-time University director of scholarships and financial aid Edson Sample that provided the funding to build the Sample Gates in honor of his parents.

Schweir, the historian, says walking through the Sample Gates makes her feel like she’s stepping back in time. Starr, the artist, views them from a 21st century perspective.

“Every time I walk by it now, I don’t just see the Sample Gates,” says Starr. “I see Obama and Edward from Twilight and zebra skin and cheetah skin. You really transform the psychology.”

It took 90 years to get there.

We built our new grill and gave it a tour tonight:

I tasted beef and roasted vegetables. No Edward from Twilight, though.