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One of the first radios I ever bought from Ebay was this spiffy Bakelite number made by Zenith. According to Radioattic.com this set is identified by the model number 6-D-512, or a simpler nickname, the “Beehive.” It was made in 1941 and is one of the last radios Zenith produced before switching over to wartime production.

I love the Art Deco style of this particular unit and I must send my thanks to Robert Budlong and his family for designing such a honey.

The eye is instantly drawn to the distinctive round layers on the left front. Radioattic.com says this is this is why it got the “beehive” moniker. It’s also said to resemble a stack of pancakes. I don’t know about the beehive, and I sort of agree about the pancakes, but while I love to eat them, sticky syrup dripping over stacks of grilled batter isn’t exactly the vibe I get when I look at my Zenith.

To me this radio reeks of Art Deco style and the first place it reminded me of was the famous May Company department store building on the Miracle Mile in the Wilshire district of Los Angeles. Built in 1939, the building is a classic example of Art Deco Streamline Moderne architecture in Los Angeles.

As you can see by Carol Highsmith’s lovely photo, the focal point of the building is the gleaming gold stack of circles in the center of the structure, very similar to the circular stack on the left side of my radio.

Perhaps they share a similar style because both were designed around the same time or maybe it’s the circular pattern I like. It seems to me that today many items that we come in contact with on a daily basis are square or rectangular and come with sharp points. This comes to mind whenever I try to jam my feet into pointy-toed shoes!

Anyway, the round shape incorporated into my radio is only part of its appeal.

Take a look at this dial. The stunning blue background perfectly shows off the Zenith lightning bolt logo and is a wonderful compliment to the rich brown Bakelite shell.

Oh, Bakelite, how I love this stuff. According to Wikipedia it’s the one of the first plastics made from synthetic components and has a super long chemical name. If you’re dying to see that formula, click the link here. I know Bakelite has been found in jewelry, silverware and dozens of other products, but when it’s used in conjunction with technology, the combination turns utilitarian items such as clocks or radios into works of art. There is no better example of this vintage style than my Zenith 6-D-512.

But let’s get back to the tuner. The Zenith lightning bolt sits prominently in the upper center of the dial. A logo well matched by the company’s slogan: “The Quality Goes In Before the Name Goes On.” Quality visible in a radio that still works nearly eighty years after it was manufactured.

Then comes the extremely cool, and the extremely embarrassing part, at least to me. I got this radio by winning an Ebay auction about five years ago. I remember because I was at Disneyland when the auction ended, so it was a double win for me. When the unit arrived I plugged it in right away and picked up a local news broadcast. After that one time I never turned it on again. Mainly because you have to go back at least six decades to find a decent broadcast on AM radio. So I kept it off and put it a shelf, prominently displayed, so I could enjoy the unique style whenever I wanted. It wasn’t until I took pictures for this article that I closely examined the dial. That’s when the word printed on the bottom really hit me.

SHORT WAVE!

I had, of course, noticed all the cool cities listed on the tuner. France, Germany, England, Spain, Switzerland. In addition to vintage tech, there was nothing I loved more than vintage travel. Somehow it never occurred to me the two could be linked. Then I turned my attention to the three buttons just below the pointer. Two words were clearly etched into the Bakelite above the center knob. ST. B’CAST to the left and SHORT WAVE to the right.

Could I really reach out to hear voices from around the world with a click of this switch? There was only one way to find out.

Plug it in and turn it on.

Which I did. I kept the switch on ST. B’CAST, because I knew that worked five years ago, then turned the device on. At first I heard nothing. I wasn’t alarmed. It took time for those six tubes to warm up, and sure enough after about a minute, words burst forth from my speaker. The broadcast on the AM band came through clear as a bell.

Would I have similar luck with shortwave?

Shortwave radio frequencies can reflect off atoms in the atmosphere, according to Wikipedia, and can travel long distances, especially at night. I had remembered that much from school, but hadn’t followed the world of radio since then. Did anyone still broadcast via shortwave? Would I be able to hear someone speak from Switzerland or Germany through my wondrous set?

I could have looked up the current status of short wave on the internet, but what was the fun in that? Learning that truth that way was like asking Google if Santa Claus was real on Christmas Eve. I decided to delay my chat with the modern oracle of knowledge and waited until the sun set so I would have the best chance at success. Once darkness fell I held my breath, turned the dial to Shortwave and heard….

Absolutely nothing!

I spun the pointer completely around the dial and came up empty. Not a peep. Oh well.

A subsequent search online confirmed that most broadcasters had abandoned the frequencies long ago, the bulk of that traffic now communicating over the internet. If anyone out there was still broadcasting, my little set didn’t pick it up.

But the failure didn’t matter. I didn’t buy this radio for its functionality. I bought it for its amazing design and for the link to the past that it represents. It fills me with joy just to look at it. To me the Zenith 6-D-512 is the epitome of Vintage Stuff.

Glorious indeed.