Tag Archives: vintage technology

Magnavox Hi-Fi VHS VCR Model No. VR2072AT01 (Circa-1988)

Well, I wasn’t planning on doing another electronics post so soon after the last one, but this is just too cool to not warrant an update. I can’t promise it will be a long update, but an update it will be nonetheless.

Now at first glance, this may not look all that noteworthy; I mean, it’s a Magnavox 4-Head, Hi-Fi VCR from somewhere in the late-1980s, model number VR2072AT01 – cool, but cool enough to write about? It’s got a fair amount of features, it’s solidly built, and unlike most of the stuff I bring home, it had its original remote included. The fact that the initial testing in the thrift store where I found it seemed to rule out any major problems was just the icing on the cake. At only $5, it was a fine find.

And yet, none of that was quite why the machine blew my mind enough to warrant an article. Oh no; look up above and see if you can spot the really interesting aspect. Upon my first coming across this, my eyes were quickly drawn to the door; it had the audio level gauge printed right on it! That’s something I had never seen before, and I was wondering just how such a thing would operate in action. So, I plugged the thing in, grabbed a random tape lying about, and got to testing. My suspicions were confirmed: During playback, the audio levels are actually displayed on the tape door! Now that’s cool!

When I hunt for old electronics, I’m always on the lookout for things with unique features, that dared to step out of the box in some way. I say this qualifies. Sure, having the audio level meter on VCRs was common among the better models of the time, but to actually render them on the tape door? That’s a new one on me, and it feels just special enough to give this model an extra air of “high-tech-ness.”

Here’s a closer, albeit lower-resolution (because I left the flash on my phone off and it evidently doesn’t like that), shot of the machine in action. The door feels just thick enough to allow for whatever makes putting the audio levels on it happen, so I hesitate to state they’re actually superimposed on there, but with an actual tape right behind them, that’s sure what they feel like.

I did some further token tape testin’ (alliteration) while still at the thrift store, but this was such a neat aspect of the VCR that it was basically already decided it was coming home with me, especially at only $5. It appeared to work perfectly, but by that point that was just gravy for yours truly.

No joke, I had never seen something like this on a VCR before, and after purchasing it, you know what? I still haven’t! I figured a quick online search would tell me more about this model, but oddly enough, aside from an expired Craigslist ad and a few scattered mentions of the model number here and there, info on this particular unit was surprisingly scarce. Even the much-loved Vintage VHS Gallery site left me hangin’ in regards to this Magnavox, though I gleaned some other important knowledge regarding their models from the period.

Such as: Many, maybe even all, were Panasonic-made VCRs, simply rebadged with the Magnavox name (Panasonic made a bunch of machines for other companies around that time), and they were very solidly-built. I assume same goes for this one. And, while I don’t know if this is the case with this VCR, but some such as this machine only featured a single rubber belt inside, which resulted in units that continue to function well even today. That would account for how well this one currently performs (more on that in a bit), unless unbeknownst to me it had been repaired at some point, of course.

Also, these were/are early On-Screen Display VCRs. That is, they brought up a blue-screen that let you program the clock and other functions right from your seat via remote. Also, other pertinent information is displayed on-screen during playback, if the viewer so desired. That’s all something that became incredibly commonplace in the following years, so to see it in its infancy here is pretty interesting.

A close-up of the other side of the front panel. The hours-minutes-seconds counter is infinitely preferable to the older-style four-digit counter that was increasingly out-of-date by then. The expected tape-in, recording speed, and audio info indicators are also nice, and the display here remains nicely bright and sharp, which isn’t always the case nowadays. Indeed, I passed up an otherwise-solid Sony from 1995 the other day simply because the display was a bit too dim for my liking; not that I really cared about the display itself, but rather, from how I understand it, that can be an indicator of power supply issues. I ain’t got time for that noise, yo.

Button-wise, there’s the typical starts and stops and pauses and what have yous, plus buttons to control the counter and whatnot, which would have been helpful for those that lost their remote (a category I’m not included in – for once).

Back in the early-2000s, a relative gave me their old Magnavox VCR. It wasn’t nearly as nice as this one, and a repair job at some point in the past left it without recording capabilities, but it played okay, which was all I cared about with that one. Anyway, it had tiny, hard-plastic, “clicky” buttons just like this VCR, so as it weird as it sounds, these actually do take me back somewhat.

Lest you miss it, there’s a flip-down panel too, with even more options to peruse. This of course was even better for those who may not have had their original remote. The buttons to allow for adjustments to the clock and/or recording timer are everlastingly handy, and look at that: An index write feature! Neato!

Back to the left-side again: A headphone jack, and volume adjustment knob for said headphone jack. Also, tracking knobs, which helped with playback once I got this plugged in at home. How so? This VCR plays exponentially well given its age, but despite using an SP-recorded, Hi-Fi, big budget tape, the picture still had some tracking issues. The adjustments here alleviated that somewhat, though it still wasn’t perfect. (Not that that really bothers me; it’s an old VCR, after all.)

Upon firing the sucker up, you’re presented with the previously-mentioned blue-screen.

Sure, there’s the on-screen information regarding playback, Hi-Fi, stuff like that. That’s all well and good, but what I really got a kick out of here was the clock settings. Not so much merely because they’re here, though they’re certainly helpful and hopefully they put an end to the “I can’t get my VCR to stop blinking 12 O’Clock HAW HAW HAW” joke, but rather because of the date featured.

Look, there’s no year listed on this VCR itself, but I did find an online listing for the original manual, and that was dated 1988. Furthermore, upon trying to set the clock, the default date you’re presented with is January 1st, 1988. So, that’s why the title of the post is notated as “Circa-1988.” I couldn’t find when this particular unit was manufactured, but 1988 or thereabouts seems like a safe guess, right?

If nothing else, it’s cool to see a small example of the era this VCR hails from (beyond the VCR itself, of course). This was apparently a pretty decent model for the time, and it was around that point that VHS had really taken off into the stratosphere. Machines and tapes were becoming more affordable, and increasingly, VCRs were seen as essential parts of any living room. To me, seeing “1988” on the screen brings all that into sharp focus.

As I said, playback here was good, though not perfect. I could happily watched an entire movie on this VCR if needed, but it was showing its age. Some tracking issues, a little jittery, nothing major but still not preferable.

Nevertheless, upon pressing the “X2 Play” button(s), I was happy to discover things were relatively crystal clear. Look to your right if you don’t believe me. (X2 Play, for those not-in-the-know, merely played a tape at, say it with me, twice the speed of regular playback, albeit without sound. The benefits of this are, to me, negligible, but at least it works.)

What you’re seeing here is a scene from Anchors Aweigh, the lavish Frank Sinatra / Gene Kelly musical put out by MGM in 1945. Hey buddy, Frankie can’t see the X2 info when it’s behind his head! Fun Fact: While a cursory glance at this blog will reveal I’m more into classic horror and sci-fi movies, there’s a part of me that doesn’t mind old school musicals such as this. They’re such a great reminder of a bygone, ostensibly more-innocent age in Hollywood. Plus, they really do tend to be entertaining. I guess I’m not just a horror / sci-fi movie buff, I’m a movie buff period.

All that said, when it came time to test this VCR, there were two factors at play: 1) I wanted something big budget, major-studio-released, in SP and Hi-Fi (to better test the capabilities of this machine), and 2) it needed to be something that, should calamity strike and the VCR damaged the tape in some way, I wouldn’t be too irritated by the circumstance. A quick trip to my left, where a big stack of needs-to-be-put-away tapes currently reside, provided me with Anchors Aweigh. And so, here we are. I got a good look at what the VCR can do, and the tape came out of the ordeal no worse for wear. Though, I did discover that while fast-forwarding or rewinding during playback, the picture was pretty jittery. Whether this was an issue of age, the heads, the belt(s), or just how it always was, I couldn’t say. It did what I needed it to, without harming the tape, but it was a cause for concern, though a fairly mild one.

Here’s the remote. It’s always nice when one of those are included, though in this case, the only function on it that I’m not seeing on the VCR itself is a button labeled “calendar.” For all I know, that function is accessed through some other way on the unit.

I didn’t put batteries in the remote, and thus didn’t test it. Look, it’s nice that’s it’s here, but rarely do I ever need the remote. They’re good to have though. In this case, despite having old batteries still left in it, there was only the tiniest amount of corrosion, which 91% isopropyl alcohol removed nicely.

Speaking of alcohol, the remote and VCR itself were both pretty grimy. Indeed, I’m surprised the machine worked as good as it did, given the amount of sticker residue and other, hopefully non-sinister, substances on it. It’s times like that when I bust out the trusty alcohol and give everything a good rub down. I didn’t get the machine or remote spotless, but at least I could afterwards touch both without worrying if I had a bout of dysentery coming my way.

There actually wasn’t a whole lot going on with back of the unit; I’m used to seeing countless inputs and outputs and whatnot that, quite frankly, I don’t always know the purpose of. I’m not sure how I feel about this; simplicity is nice, but so is having option upon option.

Anyway, here’s the little information plate as seen on the back. See, model number VR2072AT01. Did you think I was lying? I wasn’t.

Usually these plates, or at least plates from the era this comes from, feature the date and month that the particular unit was manufactured. Here though, all I get is a bunch of numbers, numbers whose purpose remains a mystery to me. Therefore, “Circa-1988” things shall remain.

Here are the inputs, such as they are, on the back of the VCR. There’s not much to talk about here; you’ve got red-white-yellow inputs and outputs, as should be expected, a channel selector, and antenna inputs and outputs.

This Panasonic VCR, from 1985, had more options around the back, including what continues to be a somewhat-mysterious Pay TV-knob, and as such, this Magnavox comes off a little barren in comparison. I mean, it doesn’t really matter; the bare necessities are here, and it’s not not like there weren’t plenty of options around front – plus, that whole mega-cool audio-levels-on-the-door thing. After that, do you really need anything else? I posit that you do not.

The only thing present on the back of that Panasonic that I especially wish this VCR had its own version of? Something indicating when it was manufactured, man!

Let us take one more gander at the Magnavox VR2072AT01, shall we? It’s a cool VCR, one of the coolest I’ve found in recent months. It looks slick, it’s relatively feature-packed, and it works; what more could you ask for? (Normally, I’d say the remote, but as you can see again above, I done gots the remote too!!)

Oh, I forgot to point out that this VCR has classy-lookin’ feet. Look up above. It’s got feet. You can’t deny it.

Still, it’s those audio levels on the tape door that I keep coming back to; it’s a feature that would almost seem superfluous, except given all that this unit has, isn’t. I mean, where else could they have put them?! It’s a extra, almost “futuristic” touch that gives this model an added layer of coolness. I can’t say I would have picked this up had it not been here, honestly.

Look, the last thing I need is another ancient VCR added to my stack of other ancient VCRs, but I dare say this one was worth the addition. What say you, the reader?

Kodak PCD-250 Photo CD Player (October 1992)

You know, as of late I’ve been neglecting the whole “old electronics” portion of this blog quite a bit. This was brought into a particularly sharp focus recently by a spate of comments on my older posts regarding the subject. The answer was clear: People like reading about this stuff, but even before that I had noticed that those posts tend to get decent viewership.

So, I knew I needed to write about something electronic-related again. The timing of this realization turned out to be fortuitous, because look what I brought home from the State Road Goodwill just last night: From October 1992, it’s a Kodak Photo CD player! A Photo CD player! Just look at it up there! It’s the PCD-250, and as an artifact of 1990s technology, it’s tough to beat…

…Which is good, because beyond longingly gazing at it, I can’t find much other practical use for the beast.

(As such, this isn’t going to be a super long post.)

You can click on any of these pics for a larger view, which will hopefully alleviate the symptoms of my inability to find a decent viewing angle to snap these shots. (Hey, I did the best I could.) Above is a closer, full-on view of the control panel. Nothing too out of the ordinary; you’ve got your starts, stops, opens, closes, shuffles, and so on. Without closer inspection, one may very well think it’s an ordinary CD or even DVD player. Indeed, Goodwill had this notated as just a CD player on their price tag. That was technically correct, especially in this day and age, but back when it first released, there was a bit more to it than that.

Just what is a Photo CD system, and why am I so enamored by it? Wikipedia has a wonderfully detailed write-up on the line, but the short of it is that in the time before digital cameras and DVDs and what have you, the Kodak Photo CD system allowed you to view your photos, your very own homemade photographs, on television. Think of it as an evolution and/or offshoot of the vacation slides people used to bore their friends and family with.

A DVD-era mindset would say that you could burn a CD loaded with pictures for play on one of these things, but that mindset would be dead wrong. Remember, this is early-1990s technology; burning a CD on your computer wasn’t exactly as matter-of-fact then as it is now. (Or was, what with CDs seemingly being on their way out – much to my chagrin.)

So how did you get your sad snapshots from the camera to disc to player? Kodak had Photo CD centers, and much like you dropping off film to be developed (remember when you had to do that? I do!), you’d take your precious cargo to one to be transferred to CD, and from there, you could view digital slides of all the stupid things you thought were worth archiving digitally – including those embarrassing early-1990s fashions that would soon come back to haunt you somethin’ fierce.

It’s the kind of technology that’s so commonplace nowadays, I wouldn’t think twice about burning a bunch of my idiotic photos to disc and watching them on my DVD player (if I had that much time to waste on my hands, and luckily I’m not quite there…yet). But for 1992, this was a neat piece of tech. Unfortunately, the transitory nature of electronics, and the introduction of affordable digital cameras and PC photo formats, and so on and so forth, it all eventually doomed the line, and while it limped along for several years, it was never quite a rousing success.

Kodak Photo CD players used their own compact disc format, and while I initially figured maybe burning some JPEGs or something to CD and throwing it in would be enough to properly test the machine, a quick online search told me I was severely mistaken. Apparently there are ways to mimic the format and burn to CD, but a cursory glance at such prospects left my head swimming just enough to where I abandoned the idea. (Besides, I don’t know if that’s technically legal or not.) So, for all intents and purposes, the Photo CD aspect of this unit, the main reason it was put into production, is barred to me.

Still, the thing powered up, and aside from the CD-drawer not quite closing all the way without a little help from the user, it appeared to be fully-functional. I have no reason to doubt the Photo CD portion still runs correctly, but near as I can tell, I have no way of proving it. And to make matters worse, upon plugging in and powering on, nothing shows up on-screen, so no neato screencaps for y’all, either.

About the only thing I can do with the machine is play audio CDs. Luckily, I had a spare copy of Bruce Springsteen’s Human Touch lying around, and what better way to test a 1992 piece of technology than with a 1992 album? So in it went!

Above: You can see the player gives a readout of the total CD running length, as you’d expect, and it does run audio pretty well. Human Touch sounded really nice while playing here; there was an odd, I don’t know, kinda ‘thumping’ sound on what seemed to me to be higher notes, but for all I know that was just a result of the chords I was using. I could have listened to the whole album this way and not been bothered, so obviously it was a pretty minor issue. Maybe the lens just needs a cleaning, I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, does it?

(On a side note: Human Touch isn’t one of Springsteen’s more well-regarded albums, especially when compared to Lucky Town which released on the exact same day. But personally, I’ve never found it that bad. There are some weak moments for sure, and the sound belies the labored late-1980s/early-1990s production time, but I maintain that had he merely pruned it of two, three, or maybe even four of the lesser tracks, there would be a more positive lasting image of the album. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s The River Part II or anything, but nevertheless, methinks there’s enough good stuff on Human Touch to merit a purchase. I’ve always liked it as a whole, and as an artifact of 1992, well, to me it’s wildly appropriate to play on a Kodak Photo CD system, okay?)

Around the back of the machine, you’ve got some standard inputs and outputs. RF out, antenna in, your red-white-yellow jacks, a channels 3 or 4 selector, and the part I found most interesting, an S-Video jack.

S-Video was around, obviously, but I don’t think it had quite become an industry standard yet, so to see it implemented by Kodak was a nice touch. Hey Photo CD system, you’re on the same page as Super Nintendo! Well done!

Next: Hooray for poorly-lighted and too-blurry photos! This isn’t the kind of thing I’d want playing on my Photo CD system!

Still, there’s your proof: October 1992. Did you think I was lying? I wasn’t.

Geez man, October 1992; I was all of six-years-old! I didn’t even have my Super Nintendo yet! (That would come at Christmas ’92.) Maybe one of the coolest things about picking up old technology like this nowadays isn’t so much what it can or can’t do, but rather it’s the ability to look back and realize this was what was cutting-edge then! Sure, it’s been hugely, hugely supplanted in the years since, but like I said before, that’s just the transitory nature of the beast.

So there you have it, the newest addition to my big giant stack of electronics: A Kodak Photo CD system from October 1992. I can’t really do much with it, except play audio CDs (and I’ve got plenty of other devices that can handle that), but as a piece of early-90s tech, I still like having it. I can’t promise I’ll ever do much more with it, and I’m a little disappointed I can’t (easily) play photos on it, even if for no other reason than to be as arbitrary as possible, but for only $5 I say it was still worth adding to my pile of junk electronics collection.