| The Palmyra Gazette |
| Welcome to: PalmyraGazette.org Created by: Michael E. Murray January 2008 Enjoy your visit! |
walks on the “boulevard” around the islands. But there were
no native damsels under the palms, and even though the
barracuda offshore were magnificent, not many men had the
prowess to go after them. The long blank spells between
visiting minesweepers dragged; when they did come the
letters they brought were often unsatisfactory. One letter told
a Kanaka skin diver his newborn son had beautiful blue eyes.
He was furious. “No Hawaiian guy ever had a blue-eyed kid,”
he raged.
They had been waiting patiently for shoes, and finally the OB
got a shipment off to them. But when the ship arrived – no
shoes were delivered. Next day the sweeper’s crew came
ashore to fish. They were wearing the shoes. Little
annoyances like this have played havoc with morale. When a
man got word that both his children were sick and in the
hospital and that his wife “didn’t feel so good,” and then didn’
t hear a word for six weeks, Barney Powers knew that
something had to be done.
Lowell Dillingham tried to persuade the Navy to lend PNAB a
patrol plane to do inter-island duty and speed up the mails.
But with a war coming on, the Navy had no planes to spare.
The next suggestion was to use official radio for personal
business. No again. Navy circuits were much too busy. So,
finally, the OpCom hit upon a really practical idea – a
radiotelephone installation owned by the Contractors
themselves, and reaching from Honolulu to all the outlying
islands.
It took some doing; Freeman Lang, a Honolulu radio salesman
and engineer, had the sets, and was anxious to sell them.
They (123) were adequate for over-water transmission up to a
thousand miles. He offered to put in the equipment and keep
it in working order. But the Federal Communications
Commission ruled against it. They insisted on classifying the
PNAB as an “amateur wireless operator,” and amateurs were
not allowed to use the wavelengths on which these telephones
were designed to work.
The Commission refused to grant a license. Ferris went to
Btruns; Bruns went to Washington; Washington went to FCC
headquarters. No results. The FCC would like to help the
Contractors but its rulebook didn’t permit.
The whole question of communication between the tugs,
barges and dredges of the ever-increasing PNAB fleet was just
then giving the contractors much trouble; radio telephone
seemed to be the answer. The Contractors asked the Navy to
authorize sets for every important piece of floating
equipment. This Bruns was glad to do. The FCC had no
jurisdiction afloat and could not interfere. While installing
the marine sets, Lang got an idea. “If FCC can’t grant you a
license for a shore transmitter,” he said, “why don’t you put
the damn thing aboard an old barge and anchor it against a
dock at Honolulu? Then you can talk to the islands all you
like and nobody can stop you.”
Farris agreed with alacrity. Station KDZA opened up in the
summer of ’40 in a wooden shack on a small barge. Illegal in
principle, yet no secret to the authorities, it operated for
more than a year as the only answer that officialdom could
give to a pressing morale problem in the islands.
no native damsels under the palms, and even though the
barracuda offshore were magnificent, not many men had the
prowess to go after them. The long blank spells between
visiting minesweepers dragged; when they did come the
letters they brought were often unsatisfactory. One letter told
a Kanaka skin diver his newborn son had beautiful blue eyes.
He was furious. “No Hawaiian guy ever had a blue-eyed kid,”
he raged.
They had been waiting patiently for shoes, and finally the OB
got a shipment off to them. But when the ship arrived – no
shoes were delivered. Next day the sweeper’s crew came
ashore to fish. They were wearing the shoes. Little
annoyances like this have played havoc with morale. When a
man got word that both his children were sick and in the
hospital and that his wife “didn’t feel so good,” and then didn’
t hear a word for six weeks, Barney Powers knew that
something had to be done.
Lowell Dillingham tried to persuade the Navy to lend PNAB a
patrol plane to do inter-island duty and speed up the mails.
But with a war coming on, the Navy had no planes to spare.
The next suggestion was to use official radio for personal
business. No again. Navy circuits were much too busy. So,
finally, the OpCom hit upon a really practical idea – a
radiotelephone installation owned by the Contractors
themselves, and reaching from Honolulu to all the outlying
islands.
It took some doing; Freeman Lang, a Honolulu radio salesman
and engineer, had the sets, and was anxious to sell them.
They (123) were adequate for over-water transmission up to a
thousand miles. He offered to put in the equipment and keep
it in working order. But the Federal Communications
Commission ruled against it. They insisted on classifying the
PNAB as an “amateur wireless operator,” and amateurs were
not allowed to use the wavelengths on which these telephones
were designed to work.
The Commission refused to grant a license. Ferris went to
Btruns; Bruns went to Washington; Washington went to FCC
headquarters. No results. The FCC would like to help the
Contractors but its rulebook didn’t permit.
The whole question of communication between the tugs,
barges and dredges of the ever-increasing PNAB fleet was just
then giving the contractors much trouble; radio telephone
seemed to be the answer. The Contractors asked the Navy to
authorize sets for every important piece of floating
equipment. This Bruns was glad to do. The FCC had no
jurisdiction afloat and could not interfere. While installing
the marine sets, Lang got an idea. “If FCC can’t grant you a
license for a shore transmitter,” he said, “why don’t you put
the damn thing aboard an old barge and anchor it against a
dock at Honolulu? Then you can talk to the islands all you
like and nobody can stop you.”
Farris agreed with alacrity. Station KDZA opened up in the
summer of ’40 in a wooden shack on a small barge. Illegal in
principle, yet no secret to the authorities, it operated for
more than a year as the only answer that officialdom could
give to a pressing morale problem in the islands.
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