I'd known Carl Brinegar as far back as I can remember.  My mother knew him in high school. But it was Carl himself, a mesmerizing ham shack, and those unearthly antennas, that piqued my radio interest when I was in the third grade (1944-45), during the World War II years.  Hams were then off the air "for the duration."

In the days following WW II, W5QX's ham shack was a long, narrow room attached to the garage out behind the their house on 715 W. Ave. J.  A tall wooden A-frame stood next to the shack's front door, and from the rooftop jutted a wind charger with big gyrating blades.  Envision the oddness of those contraptions and the myriad of aerial wires running every which way; the most alluring spectacle in the neighborhood!  It smacked of Rube Goldberg.

Since the Brinegar place was but five blocks from my house (Abe St. & Washington), one might guess where much of my time was spent.  A sphere of unmitigated mystique, W5QX's shack exuded the aura of Dr. Frankenstein's inner sanctum.  Carl Jr., the junior op, was ever on the scene when I was there.  I remember Carl wore rimless glasses and was a consummate storyteller.

Some W5QX History Before My Time

At about age 19, when Carl was first licensed as 5QX (ca. 1923), they lived on West First Street, near where City Auditorium now stands.  I remember him drawing me a picture of his double-cage antenna with a spoke-fan counterpoise.  The cages, tied together, were pretty high up while the counterpoise--directly below the antenna--was just above your head.  One of the 5QX CW transmitters was a Hartley oscillator built around a type-250, or what they called a "five-watt" tube.  A popular trick was to remove the tube's bakelite base, invert it in a big jar of oil, and run it--with a red-hot plate--at twenty watts on 200 meters.  When 80 meters, Carl remembered, became a designated ham band, it was doubtful if you could get a tube to oscillate "down there."  He said "the copper-tubing coil didn't have enough turns."

One of my favorite W5QX yarns: Around 1927 or 1928, before the San Angelo Radio Club had a permanent building, a boxcar, donated by the Santa Fe Railroad, was their meeting hall.  Located in City Park (near the old Central Firehouse), the club once threw an afternoon party, complete with homebrew beer (prohibition notwithstanding).  A high point of the event was when Luther Lynn (W5BYF) had a fist fight with some other ham.  (The incident was later corroborated in 1980 by W5BYF himself.)

Return to 715 W. Ave. J

W5QX operated 10 meter phone and 40 meter CW exclusively.  With a "surplus" BC-457 VFO driving a homebrew dual-band transmitter--and a pair of 1625s in the final--the rig was built into a metal shelf-rack above the operating table.  The main power transformer was hand-wound on an old core from a "pole pig."  When Carl hit the transmit switch, relays resounded with a loud ker-whack, and a red light came on.  And I'll never forget the final amplifier's tuning knob; an Atwater Kent dial of a bygone era.  Carl said it was from a "Hotwater Kent" radio.  He also said the rig ran "close to a hundred watts."  I also remember the chrome-plated Vibroplex bug and D-3 microphone.

On 10 meters, Carl had an elaborate homebrew converter (with a big National ICN Dial) ahead of a National NC-57 receiver.  I remember him saying the NC-57 was salvaged (full of mud) from a flooded store in Ft. Worth, and he'd hosed it down in the back yard, sun-dried it on the storm cellar doors, and it worked great.  In those days, 40 meters was CW only, and for that band, the W5QX receiver was a 1936 Hallicrafters SX-11 Super Skyrider.  Carl once said that some day he'd "give the damn thing to Mrs. Carson," the Ft. Concho Museum curator.

While my many W5QX ham shack sojourns were memorable, a particular occasion stands out: One afternoon I watched him kick off a 10 meter AM phone QSO with W2ZXM/Maritime Mobile, Captain Kurt Karlsen, aboard the SS Flying Enterprise.  A ham aboard ship, wow!  The next QSO was with W7KOE in Spokane.  Since my SWL experience then was mostly at night and limited to 7 MHz and below, sunshine DX was eerie--how could it be?  Carl called it a "band opening down on 10 meters."  "Down there" was a new and strange world.  When he transmitted, talked on AM phone, I'd hear a funny, kazoo-like noise inside the transmitter.  He said the modulation transformer was "talking."

In 1950, just before getting my ham ticket, I regularly listened in to the weekly San Angelo Ten Meter Emergency Net on 29.188 MHz.  W5QX would typically check out after a couple of rounds and say "...I'm going up to 40 meters, work some CW, and fight the South American phone stations..."  I'd often QSY my receiver there too and eavesdrop on his CW QSOs.  One night, as I heard Carl sending a slow CQ, the note sounded funny.  As the carrier was keyed, I heard Carl Jr.'s voice and the sound of an electric fan in the background.  He'd forgotten to turn off the modulator.

Once Carl lamented this incident: While on 10 meter phone--with the kids looking on--he left the rig and went to the house.  Returning to the shack only moments later, there was Carl Jr.'s little buddy at the mike yelling his own version of CQ; "...calling all cars, calling all cars..."  The red light was on.  Carl growled something about maybe getting a pink ticket.

Carl often gave me some piece of "radio junk" to take home and add to my own ever-growing assortment of treasures.  Among all this stuff is a couple of cherished items; one of the old '5QX QSL cards from his earlier West 1st St. QTH, and his original homemade bug key on a marble base.  The latter was also my first bug as well.  I've still got it.

For sure, Carl Brinegar's mentorship during my boyhood was the beginning, the catalyst for my yet-enduring ham radio fervor.  I'd also say it helped plow a future path to my chosen vocation; electrical engineering.  And as is apparent, this friendship endowed me with a profusion of vivid memories as well as an appreciation early radio.

E. Marcus Barnes, W5CN (ex W5TGV, VP5ME)
San Angelo resident 1935-1957
aerodyne@prodigy.net