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SERVICEMAN'S LOG
Smoke, fire & confusion
Yes, that is the only way I can describe the
happenings which inspired this month’s
notes. More to the point, some of these
“happenings” were of my own creation; in
hindsight, I should have done better. But, it’s
easy to be wise after the event.
In the continuous pursuit of brownie points, in the constant hope of a
financial reward, or gratuity, I grasped
the opportunity to repair one of SILICON CHIP’s monitors.
Until now, my copy book wasn’t
looking too good with them. One of
their previous 21-inch monitors had
the infuriating habit of dying at their
premises but working constantly in
my workshop. In the end, I concluded
that my workshop was either drier or
less polluted than their office. Or was
it the other way round? Anyway, there
didn’t seem to be any way of even
starting the repair on that monitor.
This time, it was a 1993 MAG
MX17F 17-inch monitor with two
distinct problems. First, there was an
intermittent vertical jitter and height
size problem and then, after about half
an hour, the set would pulsate on and
28 Silicon Chip
off in hiccup fashion (oh no! – more
intermittents).
Removing the case and metal covers
gave fairly good access to the main
printed circuit carrying the deflection
circuits. The power supply, small signal and RGB circuitry boards turned
out to be less accessible, in roughly
that order.
On examining the main board
it didn’t take a mental giant to see
that there were quite a few suspicious-looking solder joints. So out
came the soldering iron and an hour
later I had reworked almost the entire board. When I reconnected it,
everything looked good – the vertical
problem had vanished and the set was
still running perfectly an hour later.
I reboxed it and put it aside for a
soak test, thinking that that was that.
It was still working at closing time
and half way through the next day
but that was as far as it went. There
was no longer any vertical jitter but
by lunchtime, it had started to hiccup
again.
During the soldering procedure, I
had noticed a dark spot around Q506,
a 2SD799 low-voltage high-current
TO-220 transistor. Thinking that maybe this transistor had become damaged due to high temperature from the
dry joints, I decided to remove it for
testing and possible replacement. The
only problem was that I didn’t have
a replacement or even a substitute.
Fortunately, the set employed
another one in a different circuit
location and so I swapped them over
(this wasn’t easy, as access was just
under the yoke). But the swap made
no difference – an hour or two later,
it was hiccuping again.
The scientific approach
Next, I removed and reworked the
power supply and small signal boards
but the set still hiccuped. The brute
force approach was over; now for the
scientific one!
First, I summoned Mrs Serviceman
to get on the blower and track down
a circuit diagram – I always give her
the easy tasks – while I dusted off the
multimeter and warmed up the CRO.
As it happened, she quickly traced
the agency but that was as far as it
went – the company wasn’t prepared
to supply a circuit diagram which
meant that I was on my own unless
I could score one from somewhere
else. But for now, I decided to let it
ride while I delved deeper into the
monitor.
I was waiting for it to warm up
when the phone rang and I had to
deal with an elderly lady trying to
book in a TV repair at home. It took
some time to get all her details, the
type of set, the fault, the likely costs
involved and make an appointment.
By the time I finished, there were two
people queuing at the counter. And
then the phone rang again.
All in all, by the time I dealt
with everything it was over half an
hour and when I went back into the
workshop, the monitor was well
and truly hiccuping. More precisely,
this showed up on the supply rails
which were pulsating in sympathy.
In particular, I wanted to measure
the 185V rail (the only voltage that
wasn’t fluctuating was the 325V to
the main electrolytic from the bridge
rectifier). I also needed to figure out
whether the hiccuping was due to an
abnormal load, a safety circuit, or an
excessively high voltage rail.
I let everything cool and tried again
and, as luck would have it, the fault
was now permanent – it was hiccuping whether it was hot or cold and
regardless as to how long the set had
been running.
Next, I shorted the horizontal
output transistor’s base to its emitter
and hung a 100W load on the 185V
rail. It was still hiccuping. I then
tried varying the input voltage with
the Variac but it was a switchmode
power supply that gave all or nothing.
However, there was one thing – as the
analog multimeter was swinging up
and down, I noticed that the needle
seemed to overshoot past 200V, although this might have been due to
lack of damping in the meter.
I marked the position of the 185V
setup pot (VR303) and then adjusted
it. Interestingly, the set stopped hiccuping when I reached the lower end
stop of VR303. Bingo! – it meant that
this rail had to be too high.
Circuit tracing
My next step was to trace out the
control feedback circuit – see Fig.1.
This showed that VR303 was fed from
the 185V rail via R331. The voltage
on the wiper of VR303 then biased
Fig.1: the voltage control feed
back circuit in the MAG MX17F
computer monitor.
regulator IC303 which in turn fed
optocoupler IC302 in the switchmode
power supply primary.
Resistor R331 was a 1W unit and,
when I removed the brown glue that
was covering it, I found that it was
slightly disco
loured. So, were its
colour markings correct? It was now
nearing closing time and I was about
to shut the shop but I was eager to
prove that I was on the right track. I
read from left to right – brown, red,
black = 12Ω and quickly fitted a new
one. Big mistake! The set tried to start,
there was a crack – a puff of smoke –
and WHOOPS!
It was too late to investigate further.
I had to leave it; there was some (supposedly) important engagement or
other for which I had to be on time – a
wedding anniversary or something.
It wasn’t until next day that I realised my folly. Initially, I had noted
only the first three bands but there
were actual
ly five equally spaced
bands – which I read as brown, red,
black, brown and white. And the multimeter read 118kΩ. So was it really a
120kΩ resistor and had I misread the
third colour, or had it been changed
due to the brown goo or heat?
But this didn’t make sense either.
It was the white band that shook me
out of my lethargy. As I had read it,
the white band would be in the tolerance position. But there is no white
tolerance band in the resistor scale. I
had read the colours in the wrong order – the correct sequence was white,
brown, black, red, brown. And that
worked out to 91kΩ, 1%.
So the multimeter reading of 118kΩ
was correct; the resistor was originally
a 91kΩ device but had gone high, to
118kΩ.
This meant that the 12Ω resistor I
had fitted was singularly inappropriate; as testified by the fate of IC303,
which now consisted of just three
legs sticking up out of the board. It
took some time to find the rest of it in
order to determine its type number. It
turned out to be a TL431.
I fitted a 91kΩ resistor for R331,
replaced IC303, reset the pot to the
mark I had made, connected a digital
multimeter to the 185V rail, and gingerly switched on. The set functioned
correctly and the rail was almost spot
on 185V.
Finally, I rehoused the chassis and
put it aside for a long soak test, while
trying to ignore the “was it ready?”
October 1997 29
Serviceman’s Log – continued
was marked. After such major surgery,
I felt that it should have been checked.
Anyway, at least it performed well
after a prolonged soak test.
The Magtron was made by AVAT,
which stands for Advanced Video and
Audio Technology Co. It complies
with a newish Swedish safety standard (MPRII) for levels of magnetic and
electrical radiation, which it proudly
boasted on the front.
Anyway, this was severely corroded
by, of all things, coffee being poured
into it. However, the damage was
localised and it didn’t take much to
clean up the mess. The reason it was
dead was because D515 was short
circuit and C527 had exploded. Apart
from that, it worked well when the
work had been completed.
The ancient Sanyo
pleas from SILICON CHIP – I wanted
to thoroughly test it. It went back a
few days later and hasn’t missed a
beat since.
Now, about that, er, possible emolument arising from previously mentioned brownie points. No? I thought
not. Oh, well.
Two more monitors
Surprisingly, the same week I had
two other monitors in for repair. They
were similar but dissimilar, if that
makes sense. One was a 1993 MAG
LX1564 and the other was a Magtron
BMC-14SV4. They were similar in
that the badges were the same font,
size, and colour. The other similarity
was that they were both dead due
to corrosion. However, their chassis
were completely different.
The MAG came from a location near
the beaches, was corroded by salt air
and in serious trouble. The power supply was blown and had to be rebuilt
component by component. The faulty
items were: F301, 3.15AT fuse; Q301,
2SK955 FET; IC301, CS3842A IC controller; and ZD307, 18V zener. Once
30 Silicon Chip
the power supply was working, it went
into hiccup mode – like the previous
MAG monitor. Interestingly, it used the
same main rail regulation circuit and
the same resistor but in this case the
cause was a short circuit horizontal
output transistor (2SC4747).
By the time I found this, R153, a 1Ω
resistor, had expired from the current
flow. I also replaced a leaky electrolytic capacitor (C330, 1000µF 35V).
It was a bit like me: old, haggard and
worn out, but still functional – just!
I was still not out of the woods.
There was no picture and there appeared to be sparking inside the CRT
socket. This monitor was fitted with a
lot of internal metal mesh electrostatic
screens which makes access difficult.
I had to move several before I could
get to the problem area. And yes, it
was the CRT socket – it was corroded
and sparking across its own internal
spark gap. A new socket fixed that and
it behaved like a new one.
I haven’t been able to track down a
circuit for this model either. I would
have liked to have known how to set
up the HT and EHT rails, as nothing
Now for a change of scene – TV sets.
Mr Woods is a long standing customer
of mine who owns a number of sets
in a large rambling 2-storey house.
Unfortunately, the house is on the
side of a hill; worse still, all his sets
are 63cm models.
The one he wanted me to look at
was an ancient Sanyo CTP8631N
employing a B7PJ chassis, though this
is probably irrelevant for this story.
He said his grandchildren had come
down for the weekend and jumbled
up all the stations. What’s more, the
video would not work.
He implied that all that was needed
was a retune. Quick and easy – now
where have I heard that before?
I arrived that afternoon and climbed,
thankfully, only two flights of stairs
to their rumpus room. The TV set sat
in a rather dark, damp-looking corner. I switched it on and noticed that
the touch sensors wouldn’t change
channel nor was there any picture. In
fact, I was just pointing this out when
there was loud banging from the rear
and bright flashes of green raster on
the screen.
I switched off immediately and
asked Mr Woods if this the simple
fault about which he was complaining? Well, actually it was – except
it hadn’t made that banging noise
before!
I turned the set around and carefully removed the back. One has to
be very careful with some Sanyo
models; the heavy back can fall and
take the neck off the tube in one quick
guillotine action. This model was OK
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and once inside I could see that it was
very damp and obviously tracking
from the ultor cap.
As my CRC 2-26 contact cleaner/
lubricant was in the car way down
the street, I asked if he had anything
similar handy. The best he could suggest was some WD40. Close enough,
I thought – it would do.
I sprayed the touch sensors, ultor
cap, EHT transformer and tripler, then
wiped up the excess where I could.
When I switched on again, the channel selector worked and there was no
more banging. But there was still no
picture and I could hear hissing and
spluttering noises from around the
EHT transformer. I turned the set off
and sprayed more WD40 in that area.
Another big mistake: I switched on
again and stuck my head in the back,
trying to pinpoint the sparking which
I could still hear. Then there was a
loud clicking noise and a flashover
near the EHT transformer connections. The WD40 ignited in huge ball
of fire and I nearly lost my eyebrows
and what hair I have left.
The area had been fairly saturated
with WD40 and it continued to burn
with 30cm long yellow flames which
showed no signs of extinguishing.
I realised I had only a few seconds
before the wooden case might start to
burn too and cause a major disaster. I
switched the set off quickly.
There was nothing to hand except
a large rag which I grabbed and attempted to smother the flames. In
what seemed like an eternity, I finally put the fire out and then turned
around aghast to see that Mr Woods
had watched the whole saga. He was
far less concerned about it than I was.
I think many people would have
abandoned the situation there and
then but I figured that if I did that I
would be letting Mr Woods down as
well as myself – like falling off a horse,
you should get back on immediately
to restore your self-confidence. Or so
I’m told. In practice, I play it safe; I
don’t get on horses. The trick was to
pretend that it was all quite normal.
The melee had lasted, perhaps,
only 10 seconds but I had at least seen
where the fire started. I pulled the
chassis out and unscrewed the EHT
transformer. This transformer is fitted
with terminal pins (or “posts”), which
protrude vertically in a semicircular
array from a plastic support above the
main winding assembly.
October 1997 31
Serviceman’s Log – continued
These terminals are supply points
for the various voltage leads leading
to other parts of the circuit. They are
fed, in turn, by short bare wires emanating from within the transformer.
And one of these short wires – the one
connected to the G2 (screen) terminal
– had corroded and broken, creating
a gap across which some 500V was
producing a spark. And it was this
spark which had ignited the WD40.
With some difficulty, due to the
short length of wire and the restricted
space, I managed to solder a jumper
across the gap.
There was now no need to wipe
away excess WD40 because the heat
had evaporated it along with any
moisture and I was confident there
were no more sparks to ignite it in
any case. Nevertheless, I was nervous
when I switched the set on again. It
was all an anticlimax – both picture
and sound were fully restored, much
to my relief. The various stations
could now be tuned in correctly with
their corresponding touch button
numbers and even the video functioned.
32 Silicon Chip
The fire area looked rather messy,
with molten plastic leads and fittings,
but I checked that their insulation was
still OK and nothing was likely to
short. After I had replaced the covers
and put the set back, I explained the
situation as best I could. I advised
him that this damp corner was not
the best place for it, that he shouldn’t
leave the set on unattended, and that
he should have some sort of fire appliances inside his house anyway (smoke
detectors, fire extinguishers, etc).
Finally, I emphasised that the set
was old and corroded and really
should be replaced. I didn’t dwell
too much on the flammable qualities
of WD40 and left while the going was
good and my reputation still intact.
My final faux pas
My final faux pas for this week – did
I really need that many? – involved
a Sony SLV-X57AS video recorder
which came in with the fault “too
fast”. More exactly, when playing a
tape the horizontal hold was off speed
and speech was fast, rather like slow
Donald Duck. Both the capstan and
drum motors were running fast and
the auto-tracking was not working. I
removed all the covers and the front
panel and examined the set carefully
all over. It looked fairly new and in
good condition.
I refitted the control knobs and
switched on. According to the service
manual, all the pulses in and out of
the servo/system control (IC501) were
at incorrect speed. These included the
drum FG, PG and capstan FGs, as well
as the control pulses from the ACE
head and the outputs to the motors.
I noticed that when I touched pins
7 and 6 of IC403, the drum motor
could be slowed until the picture was
locked. IC403 is the error integrator.
I checked all the supply rails and
“scoped” them for ripple, in case some
of the electrolytics had gone in the
power supply. All were present and
correct. I then changed IC403, IC406,
IC407 and was about to change IC405
before even trying to change IC501, a
100-pin surface-mounted high-density microprocessor. But by now I was
beginning to smell a rat.
The machine was in good condition
and no-one had fiddled with it – or
so I was assured. What drastic action
could have caused this? Well, I had
to order these two ICs and they were
expensive. In the meantime, I would
have to put the machine aside and so,
rather than risk losing the screws, I decided to reassemble the whole thing.
Fitting the front panel is a little fiddly, especially with the toggle control
knobs and switches, but at least I had
the whole thing back together. I was
checking it to make sure I had done it
all properly when I noticed a switch
under the front panel, marked “Color
System NTSC PB on PAL TV”. It was
in the wrong position but I didn’t put
any significance on this; it can easily
happen when refitting the front panel.
Instead, I simply moved the switch to
its correct position and switched on
for a check.
However, when I pressed play, the
picture from the tape came up perfect
in all respects. Suddenly all was clear.
This recorder is a dual-standard machine; it will play either an NTSC tape
or a PAL tape into a PAL receiver and
someone had inadvertently moved the
switch into the wrong position.
So much for my high-tech approach. I had found the fault and fixed
it unwittingly – if only it hadn’t taken
so long for me to wake up to it! SC
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