Not invented by Morse and not a Code!
When I started my journey to get a Ham Radio licence there were two licence types, imaginatively called "Class A" and "Class B".
Class A was the equivalent to a modern Full Licence and to get one you need an R.A.E. pass and a Morse Code certificate from the Post Office.
Class B only required the R.A.E. pass, but the kicker was the restrictions on the bands one could operate. Initially this was the 70 Cms band and higher. Later it Included 2 Metres. Even later I think 4 and 6 Metres were also added. Correct me if I am wrong.
I did briefly have a B call, G8IAX, and a station, a modified Pye Communications PMR base station, re-tuned to a local chat channel. I listened to the chat but I hardly ever joined in. Eventually I let the B call lapse and I sold the radio.
I wanted an A Class call and I needed to learn Morse Code.
I had been attempting to learn Morse Code, with little success. I went to classes organised by the local radio club. The other students all appeared to be faster learners than me so I dropped out. I did this multiple times. I was also listening to the slow Morse transmissions provided by the R.S.G.B. Despite all this I was no closer to my goal of getting an A Class call. Time had marched on, relentlessly, and we are now up to 1980.
In the autumn of 1980, someone, I don't recall who, suggested I contact Reg, G8QR. Reg was the local guru of Morse Code, and was holding classes. I went to see Reg. He was an elderly man, clearly not in the best of health. He had just retired early from teaching English at the Technical College. (The same institution I had taken my R.A.E. exam at ten years earlier.)
Reg reminded me of my technical Guru Tim Doe from school. A passion for teaching and a desire to get the best out his students.
I explained my Morse Code journey so far to Reg. Not so much of a journey as wandering hopelessly lost in a wilderness. He was sympathetic. Reg asked me questions, odd questions.
Q: Am I good at music? A: Nope, tone deaf, totally useless at music.
Reg explained that a some people take to learning Morse Code quite easily, often the ones with music skills. The majority of people get there in the end, it just takes a bit of commitment. A small number of people really struggle, often failing. I got the feeling I might be in the last group. Reg said not! I was in the middle group.
I attended a few of Reg's classes. He was really good at teaching. Unfortunately I was really bad at learning. I was considering giving up again, but Reg was not having it. He offered me one to one tuition. This was an astonishingly generous offer.
For the next three months I went to see Reg twice, and then thrice, a week. We sat at his Dining Room table, Reg sending, me copying, then the other way round. Progress was slow, but I was sort of getting it. But mostly not. I was despondent, but Reg kept me going. He knew what he was doing, there would come that moment. THAT MOMENT!
Then, one day, quite unexpectedly it clicked. I could receive Morse Code. Yesterday, I was useless, today, I can do it. THAT MOMENT had arrived.
Reg was elated. (And probably please to see the back of me!) He sent me text at 15 W.P.M. and I could read it.
"Book yourself the exam, if you get a sympathetic examiner you'll pass." Was his advice. Sympathetic examiner, hold that thought.
I booked myself a Morse Code Exam at Mablethorpe Coastal Radio Station.
Reg had another student who also needed to take his test so we arranged to go together to Mablethorpe. I don't recall this persons name or his call sign. He was a PhD student at the University of East Anglia. Researching chemist.
I borrowed my dad's car, a Peugeot Hatchback. We drove to Mablethorpe. The weather was miserable, it was February 1981. Norwich to Mablethorpe was difficult journey, Norfolk roads were bad back then.
When we arrived there was already another candidate waiting, a middle aged man. I don't remember his name either. We sat waiting. After a while the examiner arrived, he was the manager of the station. He called me first, and we went into his tiny office. What a place, stuff everywhere! He tidied up the desk a bit, put a sheet of paper in front of me with a pen. I put on some old fashioned headphones. He produced an enormous brass Morse key and plugged it into the gadget that made the beeping noises. He sent a bit of a preamble, "The quick brown fox..." then asked if I was ready.
"Let's do this."
The actual text he sent was the opening page from Moby Dick, the novel by Herman Melville. It opens with the line "You may call me Ishmael" After the text it was blocks on numbers.
Candidates were allowed to make three errors. I had made four.
The examiner pushed the huge key to my side of the desk. He handed me a card. A block of text from Shakespeare. Richard II:
"This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise"
Then the blocks of numbers.
I did the same preamble as he did with "The quick brown fox.." The key had a lovely action, easy to send with. The I went for it, at a steady 15 W.P.M.
I had a perfect score on the sending, no mistakes. However I had made four errors on receive. My examiner spun round 360 degrees in his chair. I could hear the gears turning in his head...
He should fail me.
He put a new blank sheet in front of me. I thought we were going to repeat the receiving. Instead he said, "Your handwriting is a little poor in places, could you write it out again?" Then he left the room.
I copied the text, fixed one error, and waited for his return.
I feel obliged to point out that there was nothing wrong with my immaculate copperplate handwriting.
He came back in with a mug of coffee and put it on his desk.
He looked at the copy sheet and smiled. He open a draw in his desk and produced a big rubber stamp and stamped the sheet "PASS".
"You will get a pass certificate in the post in a few days time."
My two companions also passed. A good day out at the seaside.
I only know of one person who failed the Morse Code test. He re-took it a few weeks later and passed. Most people report a similar experience to mine. The examiners did their level best to get the candidates to pass. The examiners were also Radio Amateurs.
I will return to the subject of Morse Code in another blog, as I have some opinions I want to inflict share with you.
My Morse Code Certificate is framed and on my shack wall, next to the R.A.E. Certificate.
I will forever be grateful to Reg G8QR. He is long gone, a silent key. His call sign lives on, it is the contest call of the Norfolk Amateur Radio Club.