Television played a large part in my everyday routine, forever changing as the years passed by. When I was a young lad, televisions took on the appearance of a piece of furniture rather than an accessory, mostly because it had four wooden legs. Most of the time, these legs were very short, never lifting the set more than a foot off the ground. The ones I saw usually reached around six inches. The television set itself was usually large and bulky, but always square in shape. The front screen was never completely flat and had a slight curve to it which seemed unnoticeable from a distance. The back was never flat except for the outer edges, making it easier to lift or carry, a feat which was never easy begin with because of the massive weight. Once past the edges, the back formed a large cone which ended with a closed square. If you were lucky, the technical information would be located on the square. Otherwise, it would be a matter of trying to search everywhere on the back, at least for me. For no matter how hard I tried, I could never remember where it was located when I needed the information so I could try to figure out what accessories or parts I needed to fix the television during my latter years. But until I got older and wiser, my father did all the searching and tinkering with the back area. He did this because the back was the only way to access the innards of the television. Since the cone was the most prominent feature of that particular area, I thought it was the key for access to all the inner workings.
During the first part of my childhood, there was only one television in the entire house. It had the traditional four legs and was made out of wood, or at least it appeared that way. Whether or not it was real wood or not, I cannot say. But it sure did look real to me at the time. It had an on/off knob which you had to pull out to turn on and push in to turn off. Next to it was the was volume control that looked identical to the other knob. Like all other TVs, it had to two dials, one for all the regular channels between 2 and 13, and one for the U-channels between 14 and 56. Later models would extend this number to 99. Both dials had to be manually turned to change the channel, leading to many trips back and forth from the couch, not to mention the many fights over the programming. In order to view the U-Channels, you had to turn the dial for the regular channels so that the U aligned with the arrow above the dial. You could then surf through the other stations. The second dial operated just like the one above it, complete with the arrow slightly above it. Tuning for these channels, independent of the antennas, was done by pushing a ring which surrounded the dials but was not attached to them. After pushing the ring, you moved it to the left and the right in hopes of slightly improving the picture.
The real work of improving reception involved the use of antennas, which everyone called rabbit ears. How the antennas functioned seemed to be a mystery, mostly because they seemed to have a mind of their own. The antennas were two long steel rods which had an extendable length. The longer the rod, the better chance you had in getting a good signal from distant stations, at least in theory. The name of the game was to get the best signal you could from a particular television station. This involved moving the rods around, forward, backward, and diagonally while experimenting with the length adjustments. Sometimes it could be done in a few minutes, sometimes it could take thirty minutes, and sometimes the whole effort resulted in complete failure. If that wasn't bad enough, you often found yourself adjusting the rabbit ears for each and every channel. And for some channels, the position changed every day. This was no guarantee you would maintain that reception, for many were the times when the signal would completely disappear and force you to play around with the rabbit ears. Sometimes, this would not be enough. Aluminum foil had to be added to the mix, especially for those which were old, bent, or dropped. Several times, movement was necessary. A certain person sitting in a certain area would destroy the reception. The same thing would occur if someone got up from the chair, walked across the living room, or stand near the TV. Rabbit ears weren't the only thing you had to contend with so you could get a good picture. For the U-channels, you got the extra pleasure of playing with a circular dial in addition to the rods. Though not as cumbersome as the rabbit ears, it still took time to get some reception. You had to turn the disc round and round, hoping you could find that special sweet spot. There was no special trick to it. You just had to turn the thing back and forth. Any reception wold be good.
Once you obtained a good picture, there was a good chance you would have to adjust it. When you went to the store, all the television sets had perfectly clear transmissions with perfectly balanced color. Yet you always ended up having to tinker with the color controls once you turned on the TV. All the controls were usually hidden from public view in a special compartment, usually opened by pressing a button or switch. Once the panel was opened, you had a variety of dials which handled the small details of picture adjustment such as hue, tint, saturation, brightness, and contrast. Like the rabbit ears, they had to be used on a consistent basis not only for different channels, but also for different programs. You could have skin looking perfectly beige for one show, only to have it change to a bright orange during the next. Likewise, everything could look perfect for one particular channel on Monday, only to have everything out of whack on Tuesday. Such was the nature of fine tuning a television.
Later in my childhood, I got to have my own personal TV in my bedroom. It was considerably smaller and could be placed on a table. However, the picture was in black-in-white. It didn't matter, for I now got to see whatever I wanted see without hving to fight over it. Make no mistake about it though. We still fought over the television in the den because it largeer and came in full color.
The original furniture version was eventually replaced by one which could be set on a stand. Even more important was a brand-new feature considered revolutionary at the time. It was called a remote control. Sure, such things had existed before, but this was the first time that you had a remote which was not attached to the television. This meant that fights over the channel knob soon became fights over the remote control. It also meant there would be several patrol missions to find the remote, which often had the incredible ability of disappearing at the most inopportune times. We found it under the couch, behind the couch, under the couch mattress, under the coffee table, or another nearby place. With the advent of the VCR and later the DVD, the remotes became more complicated yet more inexpensive. TVs were also beginning to shrink with tiny nine-inch screens arriving in stores. My mother bought one for herself and placed in the kitchen so she could watch it while preparing dinner and other kitchen chores. With these advancements, the price of televisions went considerably down, enough to the point where I had my own color TV. I can't remember the exact size, but it was undoubtedly larger than the black-in-white one. Yet, there was often debates over what to watch on the living room television, probably because it had become a tradition to watch the prime time programming together as a family. It was also due to the fact that the one in the living room was the only one with a VCR. Of course, when the price of VCRs went down, I soon had my own recorder. Even with this, there was that strange compulsion to watch movies and programs in the living room. To be honest, I miss those nightly gatherings in front of the television, entertaining our minds while enjoying the company. Good times.
During the first part of my childhood, there was only one television in the entire house. It had the traditional four legs and was made out of wood, or at least it appeared that way. Whether or not it was real wood or not, I cannot say. But it sure did look real to me at the time. It had an on/off knob which you had to pull out to turn on and push in to turn off. Next to it was the was volume control that looked identical to the other knob. Like all other TVs, it had to two dials, one for all the regular channels between 2 and 13, and one for the U-channels between 14 and 56. Later models would extend this number to 99. Both dials had to be manually turned to change the channel, leading to many trips back and forth from the couch, not to mention the many fights over the programming. In order to view the U-Channels, you had to turn the dial for the regular channels so that the U aligned with the arrow above the dial. You could then surf through the other stations. The second dial operated just like the one above it, complete with the arrow slightly above it. Tuning for these channels, independent of the antennas, was done by pushing a ring which surrounded the dials but was not attached to them. After pushing the ring, you moved it to the left and the right in hopes of slightly improving the picture.
The real work of improving reception involved the use of antennas, which everyone called rabbit ears. How the antennas functioned seemed to be a mystery, mostly because they seemed to have a mind of their own. The antennas were two long steel rods which had an extendable length. The longer the rod, the better chance you had in getting a good signal from distant stations, at least in theory. The name of the game was to get the best signal you could from a particular television station. This involved moving the rods around, forward, backward, and diagonally while experimenting with the length adjustments. Sometimes it could be done in a few minutes, sometimes it could take thirty minutes, and sometimes the whole effort resulted in complete failure. If that wasn't bad enough, you often found yourself adjusting the rabbit ears for each and every channel. And for some channels, the position changed every day. This was no guarantee you would maintain that reception, for many were the times when the signal would completely disappear and force you to play around with the rabbit ears. Sometimes, this would not be enough. Aluminum foil had to be added to the mix, especially for those which were old, bent, or dropped. Several times, movement was necessary. A certain person sitting in a certain area would destroy the reception. The same thing would occur if someone got up from the chair, walked across the living room, or stand near the TV. Rabbit ears weren't the only thing you had to contend with so you could get a good picture. For the U-channels, you got the extra pleasure of playing with a circular dial in addition to the rods. Though not as cumbersome as the rabbit ears, it still took time to get some reception. You had to turn the disc round and round, hoping you could find that special sweet spot. There was no special trick to it. You just had to turn the thing back and forth. Any reception wold be good.
Once you obtained a good picture, there was a good chance you would have to adjust it. When you went to the store, all the television sets had perfectly clear transmissions with perfectly balanced color. Yet you always ended up having to tinker with the color controls once you turned on the TV. All the controls were usually hidden from public view in a special compartment, usually opened by pressing a button or switch. Once the panel was opened, you had a variety of dials which handled the small details of picture adjustment such as hue, tint, saturation, brightness, and contrast. Like the rabbit ears, they had to be used on a consistent basis not only for different channels, but also for different programs. You could have skin looking perfectly beige for one show, only to have it change to a bright orange during the next. Likewise, everything could look perfect for one particular channel on Monday, only to have everything out of whack on Tuesday. Such was the nature of fine tuning a television.
Later in my childhood, I got to have my own personal TV in my bedroom. It was considerably smaller and could be placed on a table. However, the picture was in black-in-white. It didn't matter, for I now got to see whatever I wanted see without hving to fight over it. Make no mistake about it though. We still fought over the television in the den because it largeer and came in full color.
The original furniture version was eventually replaced by one which could be set on a stand. Even more important was a brand-new feature considered revolutionary at the time. It was called a remote control. Sure, such things had existed before, but this was the first time that you had a remote which was not attached to the television. This meant that fights over the channel knob soon became fights over the remote control. It also meant there would be several patrol missions to find the remote, which often had the incredible ability of disappearing at the most inopportune times. We found it under the couch, behind the couch, under the couch mattress, under the coffee table, or another nearby place. With the advent of the VCR and later the DVD, the remotes became more complicated yet more inexpensive. TVs were also beginning to shrink with tiny nine-inch screens arriving in stores. My mother bought one for herself and placed in the kitchen so she could watch it while preparing dinner and other kitchen chores. With these advancements, the price of televisions went considerably down, enough to the point where I had my own color TV. I can't remember the exact size, but it was undoubtedly larger than the black-in-white one. Yet, there was often debates over what to watch on the living room television, probably because it had become a tradition to watch the prime time programming together as a family. It was also due to the fact that the one in the living room was the only one with a VCR. Of course, when the price of VCRs went down, I soon had my own recorder. Even with this, there was that strange compulsion to watch movies and programs in the living room. To be honest, I miss those nightly gatherings in front of the television, entertaining our minds while enjoying the company. Good times.