A New Legend Begins

Originally published in the April 1990 issue of the Collector and Emitter.

(Special to the C&E)

CAPE CANAVERAL — With shocking suddeness, the greatest horn radio DXer of all time, the one and only Q. R. Zedd, A5A, has been launched into space on an epochal solo voyage to the planet Neptune.

Zedd, holder of our only ha callsign and an inspiration to us all, blasted off shortly after dawn. Alone in his modified Apollo command ship, he is scheduled to reach far-off Neptune in about eleven years. Once there he will use a modified Lunar Excursion Module to descend near the frozen atmosphere of the mysterious planet to probe strange variations in the planetary magentic field.

The tragedy for amateur radio is that he almost certainly will not be heard from again on our frequencies until the year 2012.

“We hated to sadden the radio amateurs of the world by sending Zedd,” the president told the sorrowing nation in a televised address. “But the mission required unprecedented courage combined with engineering genius. Who but A5A could we ask?”

It was only a little over a month ago that Zedd was summoned from his home at Honor Roll Ranch, just a hoot and a holler south of town, to visit Houston and discuss weird patterns in Neptune’s magnetic field. Found by the Voyager spacecraft, Neptune’s multi-polar magnetic fields trashed most magnetic and electronic theory, not to mention throwing the Jet Propulsion Laboratory into a tizzy.

Zedd, the world’s most patriotic man, answered the call. He spent more than two weeks at JPL while NASA worked feverishly (as high as 103.6 degrees, actually) to ready a left-over Saturn rocket and junked Apollo capsule for a possible emergency trip to the fringes of the solar system.

When even Zedd could not make sense out of the Voyager data (two Cray supercomputers had previously failed), it became apparent that someone had to fly out there and get more info first-hand. Zedd, of course, bravely volunteered.

What a sight it was at the launch pad the other morning! All Zedd’s closest friends were there. Tondelayo, his nubile, blond bride, was there. Zepp, his nifty little kindergarten-aged son, was there. Momma Zedd was there. Homer Klott, Zedd’s protege, was there. A throng of lesser DX immortals, including Bill Buckeye and Legendary Surf, also attended with toms in their eyes. For whatever you might have thought of Zedd personally (and he was a prince, but it did get tiresome, his winning all the radio contests), you had to admit that this was a stirring moment in the history of the world, not to mention the annals of amateur radio.

Zedd was alone in the command module perched high atop the steaming giant Saturn rocket configuration, for the trip will be so long that every available space had to be packed full of dehydrated food and Coors, leaving no room for other crew.

He will have contact with Houston Control, of course, but even his radio gear was severely curtailed, There was — tragically — no room for any ham gear. Our only hope is that Zedd confided to us that he is being allowed to take his digital wristwatch and one paperclip; he may be able to cob up a QRP rig from these components.

But alas, many of the tears at the launch site sprang from knowledge that such may not be the case. This is a horribly dangerous mission, maybe even more dangerous than the time Zedd almost got eaten by the alligator in the Congo. And even at best he was leaving our planet for at least 22 years — eleven out and eleven back — years when all of us would be deprived of hearing his fine baritone voice booming out over the airwaves, saying great stuff like “QRZ?” and “QRX!” and “You’re outta the band!”

All of us at the launch site were remembering Zedd’s career, I think, and perhaps there were as many highlights being recalled as there were tearful radio amateurs on hand.

Surely some remembered his epic radio duel with Bill Blast, operator of the famed Blast Off DX Net, when the fireball caused by competing radio signals melted Blast’s travel trailer and 60-foot pop-up towers, leaving Blast a broken man.

For others, undoubtedly Zedd’s trip to the arctic will always be a highlight – that trip when the air was so cold that the rf froze around the antennas, and some of the signal reports did not get out until spring, when the temperature rose enough for them to thaw a bit cud fly on of into the atmosphere.

The Mt. Williams expedition — Zedd’s great DXpedition to the pile of dirt on the old Navy base near Interstate 35 north of Norman, will remain a high point for many. Working alone, powering his station with cow power, Zedd worked all-JA in one night and momentarily cornered all the IRCs in the world as hams QSL’d to get his card.

Of course another monument to the great man lies in the history of his being granted the nation’s only present-day lx1 call. Old-timers will recall that the FCC granted this license honor after Zedd eliminated a station in 4-land that was purposely QRMing a rare DX station; Zedd used his own invention to aim his 10-over-10 with uncanny accuracy, and then added his one-of-a-kind computerized system to adjust the tilt angle of his antennas to get maximum rf bounce off the ionosphere. This antenna aiming, coupled with Zedd’s quick call, using his biggest walk-in linear, had the desired results: the offending nerdly 4, when found by investigators shortly after Zedd’s brief call, was quite silent — permanently. Surrounded by melted towers and radio gear, Mr. QRM looked (in the words of a witness) like a chicken fried steak in cowboy boots.”

History may record, however, that Zedd’s greatest feat of all was his activation of the lost continent of Atlantis for DXCC credit some years ago. After the lost continent was discovered by Zedd’s old pal, Jacques Cousteau, Zedd organized the greatest DX party of all time and worked everybody on all bands, all modes, from a depth of several hundred meters. (The plastic baggies used to protect operators and equipment can be seen in the Q. R. Zedd wing of the Smithsonian.)

There were so many grand feats! How could we ever hope to recall them all?

Thinking these thoughts on launch day, we tried to be brave. Looking up at the monster rocket, we fought our tears. But we could not quite hold back every blubber of self-pity as we faced the horrible reality that this — for some of us was to be the last we would ever hear of the great Q. R. Zedd.

Could we endure it without the constant inspiration that his greatness had given to us all?

We tried to console ourselves with the knowledge that Zedd had worked feverishly all month on contingency preparations to make his long absence as painless as possible for the rest of us mere mortals.

Tondelayo and Zepp, who recently got his Amateur Extra Class, will continue to operate the rigs at Honor Roll Ranch. You know their callsigns. Momma Zedd, of course, will be on all bands, all modes, as always. (She has just a little chirp on her signal, which is how you will know her.) And in a shocking development, Zedd gave Homer Klott a cram course, and Homer has now passed his Advanced. You have undoubtedly already heard Homer on your own rig. He is the one out of the band, telling people they are out of the band; yelling stuff like “Shuddup! Shuddup!” in the middle of pileups; helping good old Blackie find QSOs in progress so Blackie can come in calling CQ DX right on to of them, and the like. Homer also has a laughing machine he plans to use a lot.

So as the countdown proceeded smoothly, he wiped away our tears and tried to convince ourselves that we could endure the next 22-plus years without A5A on the airwaves. We tried hard to believe that life will be worth living while his own golden voice is absent from our beloved ham bands.

We used a lot of Kleenex.

Finally, at 0722 EST, the countdown climaxed. The huge Saturn engines fired.

The rocket rose slowly, clearing the gantry tower.

Over the NASA frequency came the voice we all know and love so well: “Roger, the clock has started, CP is seven-point-five, roll program initiated.”

Ah, God, he always did have a way with words!

Looking up at the command module atop the fiery fountain in the sky, we thought we saw him raise his hand to us, and wave farewell.

“Goodbye, Zeddl So long, old-timer! Bon voyage and Godspeed! You will live in our hearts forever, where you will always be five and nine!

QSL?

–KU5B
November 1, 1989

Hey, Joe!
Here are some Zedds — extending through next April’s issue. As you’ll see when you read ’em, they’re the last. I’m up to No. 100 on the hard disk, which means I’ve been doing Zedds a long time now. I hate to stop, but I’m going to be making some changes in my life next summer… probably heading off someplace new… and I’ve sort of run out of column ideas anyway.

Joe, thanks a million for letting me send these in over the years. It’s been fun!