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Vintage Radio
By Associate Professor Graham Parslow
Tela-Verta 1948 Musiclock
Model 204C Mantel Radio
manufacturers offered additional
colours including blue and pink.
The Tela-Verta 204C
Designated the model 204C, this classic artdeco mantel radio incorporated a 5-valve
superhet chassis and a Smith’s Selectric clock
movement with alarm & sleep functions.
D. W. Radio Co (Tela-Verta)
manufactured radios in Sydney from
1934-1948. It was owned by Herbert
and Frank Warby who started their
business as a partnership at 210
Willoughby Road, Naremburn.
The business subsequently moved
in 1939 to 32 Alexander Avenue,
Willoughby. It then relocated again
in 1946 to 466 Victoria Avenue,
Chatswood and a sketch of that
building appears under the Tela-Verta
banner reproduced with this article.
During their 14-year history, TelaVerta produced over 30 models ranging
up to 8-valve console radios of a high
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standard. The advertisement for the
TV-24A mantel radio reproduced later
in this article shows that it used the
same case as the model 204C. The cost
of setting up a mould for a custommade Bakelite case was prohibitive
for small companies like D. W. Radio
so they used a generic case and fitted a
range of variant models inside.
This particular case was also shared
by other manufacturers using the
Mendelssohn, Aristone, Midlands and
Air King brand names. The Tela-Verta
colours of the case were eau de nil
(green), ivory and figured walnut (as
in the example featured here). Other
The 204C model incorporated a
Smith’s Selectric clock movement
with alarm, wake-to-music and sleep
functions. The photo immediately
above shows the synchronous motor
and gears used in this clock. It also
clearly illustrates the poor state this
example was in before work began.
A front-panel control was used to
switch the alarm function on and off
but this was deleted from the restored
radio. A small knob to the right of the
dial sets the alarm time, while a knob
at the rear sets the time.
Unfortunately, the clock’s hands
were missing and the rest of the
mechanism was deemed to be beyond
repair. As a result, all the electric
clock parts were removed during the
restoration and a modern quartz alarm
clock movement substituted.
Circuit details
Fig.1 shows the circuit details of
the model 204C. It’s a conventional
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Fig.1: the circuit is a conventional 5-valve superhet with
a 6A8G converter stage, a 6K7G IF amplifier, a 6SQ7GT
detector/AGC/audio amplifier, a 6V6GT audio output stage
and a 5Y3GT rectifier.
Left: the clock mechanism
(to the left of the tuning gang)
was in a poor state and was
replaced by a modern quartz
clock movement.
Right: these two photos show
the condition of the old TelaVerta radio before restoration.
5-valve superhet so there are no
radical surprises. It consists of a
6A8G converter stage, a 6K7G IF
amplifier, a 6SQ7GT detector/AGC/
audio amplifier, a 6V6GT audio output
stage and a 5Y3GT rectifier.
The most striking component
variation is the use of a metal-cased
6K7G valve as the IF amplifier. The
metal acts as a shield and is more
rugged than glass. The base of the
6SQ7 detector/audio amplifier also has
a manufacturer-added metal shield.
The volume control works by
feeding a sample of the detected audio
to the 6SQ7’s grid. This worked well
across its range in the restored radio,
as did the “top-cut” tone control (wired
across the input to the 6V6). I was
happiest when listening without any
“top-cut” to the audio, however.
The set’s history
The radio featured here was owned
by a friend and was given to him by his
family when he was a young boy. The
radio was a few years old when he got
it but it was quite a privilege in those
days to have a personal radio.
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March 2015 93
The reason the radio had originally stopped working was simple – the 450Ω
resistor (circled) in the 6A8’s cathode circuit had gone open circuit. This left the
cathode floating so that the valve could no longer function as a mixer-oscillator.
The clock face is positioned directly
behind the dial which carries the
hours and minutes markings.
A miracle of transformation was
brought about by application of several
coats of ArmorAll silicone surface
polish. The surface was porous and
soaked up the polish until eventually a
uniform gloss prevailed. In bright light,
the walnut pattern was now beautifully
evident as can be seen in the photo at
the beginning of this article.
The speaker grille cloth was intact
and was ultrasonically cleaned in
soapy water. Lots of dirt literally fell
out of the fabric and the cloth came up
looking like new. The glass dial face
was then carefully cleaned and glued
back into position.
Chassis restoration
This photo shows the restored chassis with its replacement transformer & various
other parts. The mains cord was later securely anchored using a clamp.
It worked well for many years until
one day it suddenly stopped. My friend
then stored it in an open-top cardboard
box and that is how I eventually
received the radio, as a gift to add to
my collection.
By that time, it was in poor condition
in every respect, particularly the
exposed top of the cabinet where
photochemical decomposition had
powdered the surface of the Bakelite.
It had no knobs fitted but an additional
grimy plastic bag came with the unit
and this contained the three knobs and
two screws.
The screws secured the chassis to the
moulded case but why had they and the
knobs been removed? By deduction,
94 Silicon Chip
it was because the radio had stopped
working and someone had slipped the
chassis out, looked at it and given up
on fixing it.
In the condition it was received, the
cabinet looked like it would never see
its glory days again. However, once the
restoration work had been completed,
I was delighted at just how well the
figured walnut colour had survived
under the layer of decomposed Bakelite.
The first step with the cabinet was
to scrub it with degreaser to wash off
a large amount of the brown residue.
The water eventually stopped turning
brown and the case was then wiped
and dried. The result was a case that
looked just as dull as when I started.
By this stage, the cabinet was looking
pristine and that encouraged me to get
on with the electrical restoration. The
chassis was corroded and covered with
dust, so a fair amount of work would
be required to restore it.
The set came with a mains cord fitted
but its terminations at both ends left a
lot to be desired. That, plus the general
condition of the chassis, meant that it
wouldn’t be a matter of simply plugging
it in and seeing what happened (an
unwise move in any event).
Instead, I decided to try what a rather
“rustic” member of the Historical
Radio Society told me worked for
him. That was to wash a chassis
down aggressively then leave it for
a month or so to let everything dry.
As a result, I removed the valves and
washed the chassis down. I couldn’t
see any practical way to protect the
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power transformer with a plastic bag
so I simply washed everything in-situ.
Fortunately, the weather was warm
and dry and so I waited for just five days
for it to dry out. Everything certainly
looked dry by then, so I rewired the
mains cord, disconnected all loads
from the transformer secondaries and
switched on.
It all seemed to be OK at first but
then the power meter climbed rapidly
to several hundred watts and the allimportant smoke escaped from the
transformer. Experience has taught
me that electrical devices all run on
smoke and when the smoke escapes,
the device won’t work any more.
I was a bit hesitant to tell this story
against myself but it allows me to
share what I learnt from the mistake.
Basically, it’s much easier to remove
a transformer before washing a
soiled chassis than it is to replace the
transformer. (Editor’s note: it’s also a
good idea not to wash transformers
and to use a high-voltage insulation
tester to check an old transformer
before applying power).
In this case, a Philips chassis on my
parts shelf had a transformer that could
be adapted, even though it was about
10mm longer and needed some creative
metal work in order to slip it into
place. The replacement transformer
produced HT voltages that were spoton the circuit diagram values for the
Tela-Verta and it had the necessary 5V
and 6.3V heater windings.
The layout of this radio is quite
compact (the outside of the cabinet is
just 330mm wide). To leave room for
the large clock mechanism, the main
transformer body is located under
the chassis, while the filter choke is
mounted on a metal bracket above
the 6-inch (15cm) Rola loudspeaker.
At first glance, the choke might be
mistaken for the output transformer
but the latter is actually mounted to
the side of the speaker.
Two dried-out Ducon electrolytic
capacitors were anchored to the chassis
adjacent to the speaker and wired to
the choke’s fly-leads. It struck me as
an elegant layout, even though it was
necessitated by lack of space elsewhere.
It was almost amusing, after
recovering from my initial disbelief,
to discover that someone had soldered
a shorting wire across the choke. This
indicated that the choke was open
circuit and indeed it was. Shorting it out
was a cheap (and no doubt convenient)
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This rear view shows the replacement clock movement on the back of the dial plate (ie,
immediately in front of the tuning gang).
The restored chassis is a neat fit inside the Bakelite case and has been fitted with a new
dial cord and a new ARTS&P sticker.
way to get the radio working again but
it’s still a rather foolish thing to do.
Valve radios are remarkably tolerant of
large voltage variations but it was only
by luck that the radio had survived this
so-called “fix”.
Reference to the Australian Official
Radio Service Manual (AORSM)
indicated that the choke used in this set
should have a DC resistance of 1.5kΩ.
As a result, a 1.5kΩ 10W resistor was
installed in its place. This resistor
dropped the HT by some 30V (from
265V down to 235V).
The two replacement HT filter
capacitors were installed next. These
had values of 22µF and 100µF whereas
the originals were 8µF and 16µF. As
it turned out, the restored radio had
negligible hum so the ripple filtering
was excellent, even without the choke.
Three other electrolytic capacitors
in the set were also replaced – one
HT filter and two cathode bypasses.
One benefit of removing the original
transformer was that it gave access
to a cluster of components that were
otherwise inaccessible. These parts
March 2015 95
50Hz hum from the speaker, so the
audio section appeared to be working
(at least to some extent). Some hopeful
prodding and valve substitution in the
front-end then did nothing, so I was
going to have to track the fault down
the hard way.
Fortunately, measuring the voltages
around the 6A8 mixer-oscillator quick
ly revealed the problem. The cathode
was at 118V (circuit indicates 3V)
and all other voltages were way out.
This indicated that the 450Ω 6A8
cathode resistor was open circuit and
that indeed proved to be the case.
As a result, the cathode resistor was
replaced along with its parallel 0.05µF
bypass capacitor.
As soon as that was done, the radio
sprang into life and I was able to tune
various stations. However, the sound
quality was poor and a voltage check
at the top of the tone control gave a
reading of 10.3V. The tone control in
this radio ingeniously doubles as the
grid-earth resistor for the 6V6 output
valve. Replacing the leaky audio
coupling capacitor between the 6SQ7’s
plate and the 6V6’s grid brought the
grid voltage back to 0V.
The 6V6’s cathode now gave a
reading of 5.7V and this restored
negative bias to the grid. And that
solved the audio problem.
Dial cord
During their 14-year history, Tela-Verta produced over 30 models ranging up to
8-valve console radios. This advertisement for their TV-24A mantel radio shows
the same case as used for the model 204C.
included a 6kΩ 1W resistor marked
with the old 1940s colour scheme and
a quick resistance check revealed that
it was down to just 127Ω. This resistor
was included to drop the HT to the
screen of the 6V6 output valve and to
the anode of the 6SQ7 preamplifier.
Of course, 6kΩ is no longer a
preferred value and so a 5.6kΩ 1W
resistor was substituted.
Further checks revealed that the
1MΩ resistor in the AGC feedback
The Tela-Verta banner used by the
D. W. Radio Company.
96 Silicon Chip
path from the 6SQ7’s detector actually
measured 2.5MΩ and so it too was
replaced. In addition, the 0.05µF
capacitor between the secondary of the
aerial coil and ground was replaced
before switch on.
Switching on
At this stage, the remaining original
paper capacitors were left in place
but I was still optimistic that the
radio would work. After warming
up, it settled down to a steady power
reading of 38W which looked fine. The
only problem was the silence – there
wasn’t even a reassuring hiss from the
loudspeaker.
Touching a screwdriver on the
volume control wiper produced a loud
The last remaining repair job
involved restringing the dial cord.
The thick, green string that someone
had previously used was laughably
inadequate for the job and had to
be removed. Unlike ordinary string,
proper dial cord will follow the
rotation of the tuning shaft without
binding on itself or slipping.
There was one more heart-sinking
moment left. As shown in one of the
photos, the ends of the chassis are
acutely angled in order to clear the case.
However, when I attempted to push the
restored chassis back in, the mounting
screws used for the replacement
transformer fouled the edges. The
solution proved to be quite simple – it
was just a matter of cutting 3mm off the
ends of the screw threads that secured
the transformer, after which the case
and the chassis married up.
And that was it. I now have a classic
Art Deco radio that has recovered its
former glory. It works well and I have
the added pleasure of knowing its
SC
history.
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