AmateurRadio.com

I started in the ham radio and shortwave listening hobby in 1972. By 1975, this was my first real receiver. It heard very well, and ignited my lifelong passion for radio.

The R-366/TRR-5 military receiver.

This old radio, the R-366/TRR-5, which is clearly identified on the faceplate in this picture of the military rig, had great ears. It was what I used to hone my Morse code copying skills and to get the hang of how amateur radio operators conducted communications with each other, with CW, AM, or SSB. I hope someday to own one once again.

The R-366

The R-366/TRR-5 is a significant piece of military history manufactured for the Navy Department Bureau of Ships by the Espey Manufacturing Company. Built during an era when the United States Navy required absolute reliability for ship to shore and ship to ship communications, the unit is a testament to the rugged industrial design of the mid-twentieth century. Often referred to as part of the TRR-5 receiving set, this equipment frequently incorporated high quality components and precision engineering including the gold standard Collins Radio Company designs of that period. These internal components were vital in providing the remarkable stability and selectivity needed to pull weak signals out of the dense electronic noise environment found on a crowded naval vessel. It did have heterodyne squeals on a select few frequencies, which any old tube receiver was prone to have, but those did not detract from the excellent capability of the radio.

The Service

For the sailors and radio operators serving aboard ships in the 1950s and 1960s these receivers were far more than just tools for duty. In the often cramped and isolated conditions of life at sea these radios served as a critical psychological anchor. Access to the bands meant hearing the familiar sounds of home or tuning into MARS stations where amateur radio operators facilitated phone patches that reconnected sailors with their families. This bridge to the outside world was essential for maintaining morale and supporting the mental health of military personnel who were otherwise cut off from the rhythms of civilian life for months at a time. Sitting in the radio shack and slowly tuning that large central dial while listening to the crackle of the ionosphere was a meditative escape from the constant hum of shipboard operations. Many ships would pipe ball games and news shows, or music programs, over the ships intercomms, providing health and morale to the personnel.

Operating the Radio

The tactile experience of operating this specific receiver remains vivid in my memory. The layout with its distinct knobs for selectivity phasing and BFO control was designed for the hands of a professional radio operator who needed to manipulate the signal in real time. It required a disciplined ear and a steady hand to copy Morse code through heavy atmospheric conditions but that struggle made every successful reception feel deeply rewarding. It taught me the patience and technical appreciation that have defined my amateur radio hobby for decades. Owning and using a piece of history like this represented a connection to the generations of operators who stood the watch before me.

Traveling the World…

With this historic military receiver, I discovered an entire world as a child in the mid 1970s. I spent countless nights in the quiet darkness of my room with only the warm orange and yellow glow from the vacuum tubes leaking out of the back and top grills and slots of the radio enclosure, as those hot tubes cast soft light on the ceiling and walls. That radio allowed me to travel the globe from my listening position often sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of this big rig. Those late night listening sessions, when I should have been sleeping, ignited a lifelong passion for understanding the vast and interconnected world of shortwave radio as well as medium-wave DXing. I heard International Shortwave Broadcast stations as well as AM broadcast stations from Europe, Asia, the South Pacific, the Atlantic regions, South America, Central America, and North America–all over the world! I listened to amateur radio operators on Morse code, SSB, and AM modes. Ships at sea, aircraft doing transoceanic flights, fishing vessels comms where fishing captains would chat with other boat captains, and even military communications were all at my fingertips on the dial of the radio as I listened to these exotic places by headphones. I even picked up a station from Peru, South America late one night, on the mediumwave broadcast band. That is how great that receiver could hear. Of course, I had a very excellent outdoor dipole antenna that was cut for 160 meters.

What Receiver Was Your First?

What was your first major receiver? Was it just a receiver, or was it a transceiver? When was that? What did you hear that captured your imagination? Do you still have that radio?
I hope to someday have this R-366/TRR-5, once again.

~ Happy DX!
NW7US

The photograph, below, captures a compelling moment of technical mastery during the formative years of American broadcasting, set deep within the inner workings of the Crosley Radio operation in Cincinnati, Ohio, during the 1930s. This was not just a studio but a nerve center for one of the most ambitious radio experiments in history. In the frame, an unidentified announcer sits with a quiet, practiced focus before a sensitive microphone, his presence framed by a formidable wall of equipment that served as the control interface for Powel Crosley Jr.’s broadcasting empire.

WLW, W8XAL, and WSAI

The machinery in front of him represents the sophisticated control panels for three distinct stations, labeled for WLW, W8XAL, and WSAI. These panels were the operational gateway to a signal that redefined the reach of radio. WLW, in particular, earned the nickname The Nation’s Station, and for a brief but legendary period in the mid-1930s, it was granted special authorization by the Federal Communications Commission to experiment with a massive power output of 500,000 watts. This made it the most powerful radio station in the United States, a true technological titan of the era. The signal was so incredibly potent that listeners across North America and beyond often reported hearing the broadcast under unusual circumstances, such as through the metal teeth of fillings, in the coils of mattress springs, or even through the humming of household plumbing.

Beyond the standard AM broadcast of WLW, the inclusion of W8XAL in this control room highlights the critical role shortwave technology played in the Crosley vision. While the standard AM signal was meant for domestic reach, W8XAL served as an experimental shortwave companion, designed to project the Cincinnati broadcasts far beyond the limitations of local and regional airwaves. Shortwave radio waves possess the unique ability to bounce off the ionosphere, allowing signals to travel thousands of miles and transcend national borders. Through W8XAL, the Crosley organization was testing the feasibility of true international broadcasting, turning the modest studios in Cincinnati into a point of origin for listeners located as far away as South America or Europe.

This shortwave capability was a significant leap in the evolution of mass media. It represented a deliberate attempt to overcome the geographical isolation that had defined the earlier, more fragmented era of radio. By operating on shortwave frequencies, the announcers and engineers were participating in a grand experiment to see if a single localized voice could truly become a global one. It was an ambitious pursuit that demanded even greater precision than standard broadcasting, as atmospheric conditions and solar activity could frequently disrupt the long-distance transmission path.

Working in this control room was a task that required both the poise of a performer and the precision of an engineer. Each dial, needle gauge, and switch was a critical element in maintaining the integrity of the broadcast, as the announcer had to carefully monitor the modulation levels to ensure the signal remained clear and stable for millions of listeners. A lapse in focus could mean a technical failure or a broadcast error that reached a massive, dispersed audience in real time. It was a high-stakes, high-pressure environment, yet it functioned as the primary, and often only, window to the wider world for families weathering the depths of the Great Depression.

Powel Crosley Jr. was a man of intense vision, and he understood better than most that radio was the ultimate tool for domestic and international unification. These transmitters were the engine that bridged the vast geographical distance between his studio in Cincinnati and the living rooms of families scattered across the continent and beyond. When people turned their dials to find the station, they were connecting to a piece of engineering that stood at the very cutting edge of the twentieth century. Looking at this image today, it is easy to feel a sense of awe for that era, when the simple act of turning a knob could bring the world into a home, effectively shrinking the vastness of the country and changing the way society experienced culture, news, and shared humanity forever.