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A new, but not-so-young collector reminisces

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  • A new, but not-so-young collector reminisces

    Some thoughts about owning and collecting Pathe 9.5m/m Projectors and film




    I Just wanted to put down some of the events that lead to my interest in Pathe 9.5m/m film and projectors. My father was a photographer - he opened a shop in the 1950s - but before that he worked for Boot's, doing all sorts of itinerant photographic stuff, including some cine. During my early childhood I used to show his films on an editor (Haynor) and was occasionally allowed to work the projector, a Eumig P8 which he bought in 1954 and which I still have. One day in his box of 8mm films I came across a reel that just looked wrong. The film was broader, and the sprocket holes were in the centre! Very odd! My father explained that it was a different kind of film, and that it could not be shown on the Eumig. I was very curious!




    A short 'bus ride from where we lived at the time, there was a road with many antique and junk shops; Christchurch Road, which I occasionally visit now to this day, but it is a mere shadow of its former self. Gone are the rows of seemingly unending shop windows of items that held such a fascination for me. Gone are the piles of old records and the horned gramophones, the boxes of pianola rolls and the many other things that one could so readily loose one's self in. Many years ago I saw in one such shop two diminutive hand-cranked projectors mounted on a wooden platform (probably home-made) and I knew instinctively that these must be for that other type of film. They looked so magical, and I wanted to own them so desperately that day. The proprietor told me how much they were, and although I don't recall now, it was probably much more than the 15/- I had only just managed to save up for a starting pistol I bought at around the same time. I recall asking my father to 'phone the shop, and recall the conversation with my father offering an amount well below what was being asked for, and the man (according to my father) saying he "really wanted your son to have them" but it was to no avail. I would have to wait several years for my first 9.5m/m screening.




    I was probably around 13 when I saw the pair of Pathe Baby Projectors in Boscombe, but I was 19 when, during a choir outing I found a shop in Glastonbury that had a Pathe "Lux" amongst pianola rolls, wax phonograph cylinder records and a myriad of other interesting things. I was in my second year of University, studying chemistry in Exeter, and had sung in the local church choir since my arrival. The "Lux" cost £30, and of course I had no money, but the rector, John Godeck rushed to my aid with his cheque book, and the item became mine. The shop-keeper commented that it was unusual to see a priest with the word 'God' in his name, and I suppose it was.




    Astonishingly the old projector came with a working bulb, a resistance block and an instruction manual. The second biggest shock I had was that it still worked! The least said about the first, the better. I had no real idea how to get it going properly, but it was my initiation into the wonderful world of Pathe, and those "other" films. Later I acquired a few more films from a collector in Dawlish, and even a camera (H motocamera) and during my teaching practice, a few years later, I used the "Lux" in some classes, playing a piano accompaniment to a film ("The Simp" SB30042) This involved keeping the class, and the projector in order as well as being inspired enough to improvise effectively. Somehow I managed. It was shortly after this, with the exception of purchasing a few more films, a Specto B projector and an occasional screening, that the first part of the story ends. After a gap of what must be over thirty years, my interest was about to be re-kindled; actually “turbo charged” would be a better way of putting it. Here's how it happened.




    My teaching career over, three house-moves later and me in my early sixties, I had amassed a wonderful collection of musical technologies: thousands of sound recordings of many formats with some lovely examples of machines to play them, a fine reproducing pianola with a good collection of the special rolls – as well as regular 88 and 65-note ones, and a 33-rank Aeolian Pipe Organ that I had brought back from America during one of my many visits. I play most days, and am never happier when improvising at the keyboard. Over the years I have used my gifts in this area to play live improvised accompaniments to vintage silent films at several venues. Such films as “Sunrise”, “The Phantom of the Opera” and “Metropolis” were among my repertoire, and naturally I developed a very intimate relationship with the movies as I used the emotions they elicited in me to inspire the music that seemed to flow from my fingers.




    My collecting interests had not diminished in the least, and now included air guns, crystal receiver sets, watches and clocks and Seltzagenes (soda siphons) and whilst on the look-out one day my eyes rested on a box of vintage films which contained what appeared to be a complete set of “Metropolis” on 5 reels: SB745. I was not to know until later, that, like a lot of Pathe's films it was a cut-down version of the 35m/m cinema format, but, none-the -less a wonderful thing to own, along with many dozens of other films, long and short. I almost missed the on-line bidding, but prompted by my good friend Tony Sandison, I pressed the mouse button at the right time, and became the lucky winner of lot 546.




    The 9.5m/m projectors had sat, covered in dust – I am ashamed to say – on a high shelf in my Victorian town-house for longer than I can really recall, and now, with “Metropolis” and her companions in five boxes, it was time to get them going again. The Specto came back to life immediately, and so taken was I by its classic lines and smooth workings, I bought 4 more, all very cheaply, in the various gauges and styles in which they were made. The “Lux” had a swollen fly-wheel by now, and needed some remedial work, but it, too came back to its former nature, showing the wonderfully quirky notched films with aplomb (“cork et its Manufacture” being quite a favourite) Strangely, I had not shown the “Metropolis” film, because I felt its first screening here in Exeter will be something of an occasion, which will need to be relished and savoured before kindred spirits and may form part of a “Metropolis” party later in the year.




    What happened next will form the second part of this narrative, and was as unexpected and delightful as any of my collecting adventures. It involved a spontaneous “comfort purchase” prior to a trip to the dentist, films of a woman making wax flowers to charming, but utterly inappropriate music, a brilliant pianist who emigrated to Australia in the 1930s and the Latin words for 'above' and 'voice'




    To be continued...........


    Paul Morris, Exeter








  • #2
    Paul,

    Thank you so much for that wonderful read. I found particular joy in your description of combining your musical talents with your fondness for film. I look forward to the next installment!

    Comment


    • #3
      Thank you so much!

      Comment


      • #4
        Great story Paul!. That's the thing about cine, even though we associate the "movies" with a group of people going to a theater and sitting in the dark, it really is a unique and personal relationship that each of us have. Yours was described beautifully.

        Comment


        • #5
          A fascinating story Paul and so similar to so many of us old 9.5ers. My own “cine biography” was published in issues of the Group 9.5 magazines. Another thing we have in common is that I was also a teacher. I do not however have any musical talent other than singing. 😊

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          • #6
            Super Vox yay!

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            • #7
              One thing inevitably leads to another. A friend of mine suggested that I saw a documentary called: “Lights out and the Stars appear” . The introductory music, was an Edison cylinder of Albert Benzler playing a “bells solo”from Mozart's “The Magic Flute” a record that I own. What a good start. I enjoyed this very much, and Google sensed that I needed to see other related stuff and I soon found myself looking at something I never knew existed: 9.5 sound film. I saw a curious projector, heard stirring, up-beat music with a commentary in 'well-clipped' English, talking about flowers. Later, the video panned around and there was a lady making wax flowers, dressed, very confusingly, in a flower patterned dress. It all seemed rather amateur ,but I was captivated. It was just so appealing. Then I was treated to the enormous talent of Freddie Bamberger on the piano, in another Pathe production. Sheer bliss! I had to find out more.

              In no time I found a Pathe sound projector on a well-known website, and was thinking about the 'buy it now' price of £250. It was listed as spares or repair in the time-honoured fashion, and I had no idea if it was a bargain, but it compared favourably with another specimen costing twice as much. I thought a warm bath would cure me, but it only increased the attraction of this very 'gallic-looking' instrument, and a 'phone call later to a good friend who has worked with projectors and amplifiers was no help at all. She pointed out all of the defects of the system, and flaged up the likely problems of ever getting it to work again. A sleepless night. In the morning I had an unwelcome call to make – to the dentist, but there was just time to look at the Pathe again, and seek other advice. I spoke to another friend who was due to visit shortly. He was emphatic. Tony said: “you must have it!” and when I told him where it was, he said it was close to where he lived in Essex but that I'd “better get it today” so he could collect it in advance of his long journey to me in Exeter. I thought of the coming ordeal; the dentist's drill and the needles I needed some retail therapy right then, and my finger knew just where to go in order to make it mine. The dentist was very skilled but it was not cheap. “Its a big 'ole, but I can fix it” he had said. I actually left with one hole filled, but another one, also big - in my bank account! The filling had cost the same as the Pathe Super Vox Sound Projector, but I left the surgery a happy man that day, imagining even then that Tony was on his way to collecting my latest purchase. I had been warned that the Super Vox was a substantial piece of kit, but even the pain in Tony's face as he removed the item from the back of his car the next day failed to prepare me for the appalling weight of my new toy. About 25kg with the mains transformer! A quick 'phone call by way of a confession, to Liz who had pretty much warned me off buying it, seemed a good thing to end the day with. “Good, I thought you would” she said, “when do you want to bring it around?”

              The next day, I set about seeing exactly what I had bought. It didn't seem so heavy as it had been the previous night, yet it was so mysterious. Knurled knobs, spools that did not line up, what looked like a small telescope pointing at a tiny mirror, and a black tube that jutted out at a strange angle, and which wobbled disconcertingly. What had I bought indeed? Liz had warned me to remove the rectifier valve (a 5Z4GT) so that if I did plug it in there would be no danger of running the amplifier without a load, since it had not come with its speaker. (subsequently, it turned out that the amplifier was only connected when the speaker plug was inserted – but a wise precaution) On connecting the power nothing happened except a low hum. I twisted the large milled knob protruding from the gear cover, and it started but the motor made a fearful noise, as gears graunched and juddered and after a few seconds I turned it off. I was just able to see that the lamp came on in a powerful beam, yet clearly something was amiss. Later that day, I plucked up courage and removed the gear cover to reveal a helicoidal (“worm”) gear running against a pinion. The mesh was clearly too tight. A little investigation showed that by moving the whole motor slightly up or down, the mesh could be changed, and after locating, and slackening the large flat-headed bolts that held the motor, just enough, judicious levering up and tapping down produced the desired effect. Lubrication holes were also located and a few spots of light machine oil introduced. The big, old machine purred its thanks as it started to come back to life. Encouraged to investigate further, I discovered the means of opening the gate, the film masks (framing and sound-track) the means of changing the film speed and had a go at lacing it up. It was like no other projector I had seen.

              Liz is an amazing person. Eccentric certainly, but quite the cleverest and certainly the kindest person I know. Her background is in radio repair, circuit design, electrical and mechanical engineering. Like me, her passion is with old machines and bringing them back to life. I am very lucky to count her as a friend. Although officially retired, and not a projector specialist, she accepted the challenge of getting the Pathescope “Super Vox” back to prime, original working condition, and set about sorting out the rats' nest of components and wires in the amplifier. What follows is not a technical account of what she did, but her website “poppy records” contains a section which she has freely shared and can be found on:




              Poppy Records - Pathe Projector Amplifiers




              There are pictures of the machine, before and after shots of the amplifier showing her work and some others which I hope may be of interest at the end of this piece.




              Mechanically, the projector functioned well, but the amplifier had clearly been 'got at' although it was also clear that the previous repairer knew what they were about, and may well have been hampered by lack of supplies of new components – and may have been working with cost and time constraints. Liz' approach was basically to clear everything out, test capacitors and resistors whilst making a conventional circuit diagram. The finished job would look modern, but would be neat and functional. Her investigation coupled with knowledge gained in other work suggested that some of the ideas in these early amplifiers had, in the light of later knowledge could be improved, whilst keeping to the original intentions. This she did. A case in point being that early loudspeakers often used mains energised magnets, and the field coils could also be used as a 'choke'. Without understanding this myself, it was clear that as the speaker we were using had a permanent magnet (a later Bell and Howell job) a provision had to be made in the amplifier to run without a choke. This was duly achieved. The socket for the speaker cable had been badly cobbled together, and whilst it would have worked, I modified an old “clix” two-pin plug by making a separate screw-in 5-pin block (eventually) and Liz found an old valve socket that was suitable for the other end. A job that was far harder to do than we both expected.

              I don't know what I expected to happen when, several weeks later, we turned it on for the first time. I had threaded the film “Zampa” plugged in the speaker flex, and set the speaker (in a facsimile cabinet that I had made, covered in black faux leatherette) a suitable distance. The speaker made a soft 'burring noise' as the leader raced through the sprockets, and gathered in the take-up spool then ever so faintly the strains of the orchestra just reached our ears. I was on a knife edge. What was wrong? Would it ever work? Is this the best it could do? Liz frowned. “We don't seem to be getting a lot of sound, do we?” My dry throat refused to speak.

              The special lamps that are used by these sort of projectors: Phillips 7204C 31v 400w, “burn” base up. In effect, upside down. It was an idea to keep the glass clear of sublimed tungsten, which would then accumulate in a place where it would not be so noticed. The lamp was supported and located with tabs left when sectors were cut out of a ring of brass. Light from this lamp went to illuminate the film, and also down an optical path to focus a slit of light onto the sound track (which, having passed through the latter, was reflected out onto the photoelectric cell) Liz looked disparagingly into the lamp house. “The filament is nowhere near where it should be pointing” I was mystified. Then she began viciously to bend the base of the lamp with pliers. I had to look away. “That's more like it” she said, and off we tried again. Better, but not much. The audience in a village hall would have been throwing fruit at this point I thought.

              I had no idea that there were adjustments to the 'sound reader' but as the ancient drama of Zampa unfolded again, a new drama was taking place in Liz' kitchen that cold November day in 2023. The focus, and position of the light beam were made with a milled knob and a screwdriver, and Liz attacked both simultaneously. First there was an improvement of sound definition, and then much louder tones, and seconds later, as if great oak doors had suddenly burst open from an adjoining concert hall, the room was filled with Herold's dramatic overture. I could only just make myself heard above it, as I bellowed my praise and thanks. At the end of the film, Liz said: “I think that ought to do it”.

              It was a wonderful, wonderful moment, and it was to propel me further and deeper into the world of the Pathe Talkie. I seemed powerless to resist, and the third part of this narrative concerns what I shall call the curious incident of the “Son” that over-heated and shredded films in the night-time.




              To be continued........



              Last edited by Paul Morris; March 02, 2024, 08:44 AM.

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              • #8
                Paul,

                I actually left with one hole filled, but another one, also big - in my bank account!​
                That's a very funny line! Thank you for this latest installment. It's really interesting to see you get pulled deeper and deeper into the world of Pathe projectors. Liz sounds like a fascinating person who should be the subject of a documentary!

                Comment


                • #9
                  Paul , really enjoyed your journey into the magical world of 9.5 sound. The Vox and Super Vox were built to last and when fettled they really do a great job , and so gentle on film.I have owned several over the years and having gone through most of the sound films that were available, I then moved on and started collecting St 8 sound films and projectors.
                  i always have a soft spot for 9.5 and presently i am restoring a Pathe Baby for a friend. Its hard to believe its 100 plus years old and the mech is now working like a Swiss watch.
                  Looking forward to Part 3
                  John

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