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Being the final part of the remeniscences of a new but not-so-young Pathe collector- including photos relating to all three parts
I write with some trepidation in this final part of my story, as I think I may make some contentious points in disagreeing with long and firmly held beliefs, and as a tyro, maybe I haven't the right to upset what has for a long time been a very stable apple cart – but then again..... well, here goes anyway!
I saw references to Pathe's domestic sound projector of the 1950s, the “Son” (pronounced as to rhyme with Don) in a now, sadly defunct 9.5 magazine, on various web sites (some more authoritative than others) and through personal communication written and verbal. If ever there was a much maligned piece of mechanism, the Pathescope Son was certainly it. Having seen pictures of the machine, my thoughts were: “what a pity – it looks so stunningly gorgeous, in an extremely quirky kind of way” The general consensus was that it trashed film, over-heated (what ever that really means) had an under-powered motor which caused interference with the sound, should only be handled with rubber gloves and, someone even suggested, a cattle prod.
Now, I love a challenge, and a lost-cause to support so the very negative comments that are invariably aimed at this projector only strengthened my resolve to own one – if, as I have often read, only as a “looker”. Unlike the contributor to this web site a few years ago, I did not make my decision after a glass of red wine, but preferred, as a confirmed west-countryman, a pint of cyder. The familiar sequence of events began again. A prospective purchase was located, Tony was alerted, and as he was “coming down anyway” agreed to collect it. When it arrived, I was spell-bound, and decided that even if all the powers of Liz could not make it work (or if it had never worked satisfactorily anyway as anyone will tell you) it was a thing of uncanny beauty. I'm sure most folk know exactly what they look like, I will just say that my impressions were that, rather than being contained in its case, it “nestled like a huge black mollusc, with – what can best be described as - a “perky” lens, and an almost a knowing smile about its lamp-house grille. OK, I was smitten, but I hope not so much so as to lose my sense of objectivity.
Liz, noteasily given to undeserved praise for a project said that apart from the one rather tortuous part of the film-path, there was no reason why it should not work properly, and set about her work in the usual thorough and pains-taking way. Glossing over many hours of testing and replacing faulty components (of which there were surprisingly few) the time came for my visit when the final touches were to be made.
The motor is mounted on flat-headed bolts that had rubber discs between them, and these had perished and needed replacement. A satisfactory procedure used ball-cock valve rubbers and superglue. Most careful cleaning of all items was necessary to get a really good bond. The speed governor was inspected, the brushes checked, and suppressor capacitors to minimise sparking and radio interference installed. There were two disappointments here. I must be honest and say that the motor was noisier than I had expected, but certainly not under powered being capable of more than sufficient torque, and the claw mechanism looked rather cheaply made when compared to the heroic proportions of those of the Voxes. None the less, it was an ingenious, and space saving design, and it drew no negative comments from Liz. A musical miniature, “Java Jive” CT/16 was to be used, possibly sacrificed, as a first test. Another disappointment was that there was seemingly no way to switch the amplifier on before running the motor, and this usually meant that films with short leaders caused the first part of the sound-track to be missed. That said, the film played well. The sound was unbelievably loud and of good quality, and with very little “hum” The film-loops remained intact throughout, and there was no obvious damage. The only real nuisance was that I could not get the “Java Jive” out of my head for a fortnight! So let's sum up.
The Son was of British design and manufacture, but even in the late '40s and early '50s it was hard to get all sorts of materials, and no one had much money. Emerging from the global crisis of WW2 the Son inevitably had to be a bit of a compromise, and it was certainly built to a price. The single sprocket was nothing new, but maybe propelling just eight frames per revolution resulted in it being rather too small, and of necessity causing one very sharp bend in the film path. The amplifier used 1930s valves quite likely because others were unavailable or too expensive then, and these certainly were a tight fit into the rather limited space allotted. Valves get hot when running, obviously, but the hottest thing around was the 30w exciter lamp. I wonder if a lower powered one would have worked just as well. The motor, though noisy has settled down quite a bit, and although noticeably noisier than an induction motor of a deluxe machine, it is not really much different to a brush motor in most other projectors running, as it has to, at 24 f.p.s. and governs perfectly. Setting the speed was rather difficult, until I discovered a hole in the top of the casing directly above the rating screw. I found that less than a ¼ of a turn makes a big difference.
I tested the Son pretty rigorously, showing the 900' of “Across Europe with Jack Hylton” T9350 more than a dozen times with no noticeable change or damage. The 100w bulb competes very well with the 400w bulb of the Super Vox, coming second, of course, but a pretty close second, the film loops remained intact and if there were, maybe, a lowering of sound volume towards the end, it was so loud at the beginning that one started with the volume turned down anyway. I have to admit that there were a couple of films that broke whilst in its care, but these were ones with several old splices, and of what seemed to be made of inferior quality stock, and which, incidentally, also failed in my Vox, so my conclusions (and remember, these are only my conclusions) are that with film 80 plus years old of good material and, if present, well-made solvent splices the Son, when laced, and assembled correctly does as good a job as any other sound projector of the era – a miracle considering the time in which it was made, its competitive cost (£78 in the 1950s) whilst handling what is now very old film; and all the while looking like a rock star! And finally, what of the curious incident of the Son that over-heated and shredded films in the night-time? I can tell you that the Son did neither, and you may say that that was the curious incident, but to me it was not so curious at all - they just work! Thanks for hearing me out!
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