3.5 mm had been around for a long time, maybe first made for transistor radios? Personally I like RCA jacks as an output. I've never hooked up extra speakers but in the late 70's a lot of the quality boomboxes pushed having those external speakers.
I found this: “The miniature 3.5mm jack version was introduced in the 1950s for the headphones of transistor radios,popularized by the famous SONY EFM-117J radio released in 1964, then by the first Walkman, again from Japanese brand Sony, in 1979.” Source: https://www.audiophonics.fr/en/blog...ature 3.5mm jack,Japanese brand Sony, in 1979.
The mono 3.5mm plug was very standard indeed. You could often recognize it by the indicator words "EAR" or a small drawing of an ear symbol. I'll keep my eyes open to see if I can find the stereo version somewhere on a device that is older than the TPS-L2. Maybe a computer or something. Because I suspect it played a mayor role in its miniaturization that makes it so special and contributed to its popularity. I've also read that Sony is one of the last to stick with the stereo 3.5mm plug on their mobile phones too. RCA is great. Here in Europe we had the DIN plug. I didn't like that at all. In practice, I used to connect my boombox to a stationary hifi via the 6.35mm headphone plug for playback. Just like one would connect a modernish portable MP3 music players or walkman via the 3.5mm headphone plug I guess. In my early 80's situation the cassette playback quality of my boombox was much more stable and much better quality than the quality of my first walkman, a Grundig Beatboy 100.
There's other versions of the 3.5mm with seperate zones, I think one zone is for the inline remote? I'm paging through old Funkshau Magazines, there might be something in here but I can't read it, great photos and ads though.....
Found on a Korean Blog https://m.ppomppu.co.kr/new/bbs_view.php?id=freeboard&no=3371443 The Walkman, which was the dream of our school days... Only the top 5% of kids could afford the 'Gap of Gap' Aiwa or Sony Walkman, and those who could afford it bought Samsung or Goldstar products. However, even Samsung Maimai, the pride of domestic products, was a complete squid compared to Aiwa. While Japanese Walkmans were slightly larger than tape players, had a smooth design, and above all, the thrilling feel and excitement of the electronic full logic deck, domestic products were heavy, bulky, and had large, stiff mechanical buttons... poor sound quality, and they were prone to breaking and breaking. At that time, the gap between domestic and Japanese electronic products was huge. It was probably at least 10 times greater than the level difference that can be intuitively felt between domestic and Chinese products today. Analog was such a difficult technology to narrow down.. However... in the late 80s, a major event occurred that caught up with the huge technological gap between domestic and Japanese Walkmans at once. A product with the same size and weight as the Japanese product, and mechanical perfection like a full logic deck, was released. And it was from 'Daewoo Electronics', which was considered the weakest and third-rate among the three home appliance companies at the time. Even the enthusiasts at the time were confused and puzzled as to what was going on, and eventually, after tracking it down and confirming it, it turned out to be a finished product imported by the Japanese company 'TOSHIBA' (the product on the top row in the photo). Daewoo made up their mind to import it, put the Daewoo mark on it, and released it. The price was in the high 100,000 won range at the time. It was more expensive than Sony Eyewa sold at Seun Shopping Mall. It was an error to buy a product with a 'Daewoo' mark at a higher price than Japanese products, but the most unfortunate thing was that if it broke down, you had to go to Toshiba and get it repaired. Since domestic technology couldn't even disassemble and assemble it, it took about a month to send it to Toshiba headquarters for repairs. Anyway, the general public didn't know much about this inside story, and it was exaggerated by the media as a 'success of domestic technology', and it was quite a hit in the early days. Samsung and Goldstar, stimulated by this, also imported and released Japanese finished products. In the case of Samsung, they eventually caught up with the Japanese during the last days of analog. Anyway, I stopped by the news library for a moment and saw an old advertisement, so I took a quick look. Every time I see something like this, old memories come to mind.
LESS IS MORE LEADS AUDIO WAR: [FIRST EDITION] Nathan Cobb Globe Staff Copyright Boston Globe Newspaper Jun 12, 1981 Lenny Dent of Revere thinks it's the greatest thing to happen to roller skating since the invention of the urethane wheel. Oh yeah: You carefully strap the small blue unit to your belt, gently place the flyweight headset over your ears and maniacally roller dance your way into hardtop heaven. And it's not merely hot dogging that demands the assistance of REW/REV buttons, pitch control knobs and talk line switches. Oh no: It's cross country wheeling, too. "Sometimes I've come to hills," announces Lenny Dent, combination bus driver and roller skating teacher, "and without the music, I never would've been able to climb them." But the miniature, battery-powered stereo tape player and its accompanying headset - a child born in July 1979 of Japanese parentage and an emigrant to the US four months later - is not merely a roller boogie add-on. If it were, the 30 or so companies, mostly Japanese, who have been competing with Sony Industries' original Walkman unit would not be into the hunt. "The Japanese companies are notoriously quick to jump on a bandwagon and milk it to death," says Barry Wilensky, audio manager for Waltham Camera and Stereo in Waltham. "But I think this will become as ubiquitous as the portable radio." This may be good news to city folks who have been enduring the decibels emitted by "boom boxes," those on-the- shoulder stereo behemoths which weigh up to 20 pounds, cost as much as $500 and began hitting city streets three years ago. Though the boom box market is somewhat younger and more urban than the miniature tape player market, the philosophy of less-is-more seems to be winning the war. "There's a definite trend towards miniature in audio," says Robert DiGiacomo, the buyer of portable stereo equipment for Lechmere Sales' stores. "Things are getting slimmer and smaller. It's like the car industry." (There are no import figures available for the new machines, but imports of stereo cassette players with radios - i.e. boom boxes - declined 26.5 percent last year to 703,000 units.) The miniature players - which are being turned out with such isolationist names as Solo and Escape - can't annoy anyone who isn't directly tuned in, though several are capable of taking two sets of headphones. Some weigh under a pound. (Sony's Walkman, with a suggested retail price of $199.95, weighs 1378 ounces. The recently marketed son-of-Walkman, known formally as Walkman II, is four ounces lighter and about $20 cheaper.) Most simply have playback capability, though at least three come with cassette-shaped radio receivers which can be slipped inside. One unit automatically advances the tape to the next song. Prices range from $80 to $275. Talk to someone who is shopping for one of the new players and you will usually find anything but a street kid intent on audibly defining his turf. Take Kurt Deuschle, a Boston attorney who has recently been checking out the marketplace. When Dueschle buys a unit, it will be to provide nothing more exciting than a soundtrack to the small tractor he uses for gardening. "I'd rather listen to a cassette than the drone of a two-cycle engine," he explains. The new players are being marketed to the likes of runners, walkers, bicyclists, subway riders, skiers and Frisbee flingers. To hear some people tell it, however, they are more necessity than luxury. Barry Glovsky, a Boston video dealer, recently took one of the units to a convention in Chicago and used it to survive a traffic jam on the way to O'Hare airport. Glovsky talks about his portable tape player the way some people talk about their psychiatrists. "You wouldn't believe what it does for peace of mind in a tense situation," he claims. Meanwhile, a Boston woman who didn't want her name printed uses her unit to help her cope with her recent separation from her husband. "I use it when I do routine chores," she explains. "That way I can do what I have to do and not have to worry that my problems will surface. It's a suppressant." The same woman also regularly takes her tape player into the shower. Some of the units reportedly vary in pitch when they are jounced during, say, jogging. And the headphones made by some manufacturers do not work particularly well in players made by others. But the real consumer danger will come from automobiles and other moving objects. Despite switches that lower the sound so the wearer may hear conversation, the units tend to cover up such noises as sirens and even everyday traffic. Driving while wearing headphones is illegal in Massachusetts, but the first thing some buyers of the new units want to know is whether the tiny headsets will fit under their motorcycle helmets. All this began in 1966 when the integrated circuit - a tiny chip capable of combining the functions of many electrical components - was included in take-home products. At the same time, the easy-to- use audio cassette - a small dual- reel device that eliminates the messy business of threading tape - was being developed. As the latter became more and more sophisticated in terms of reproducing sound, the push-button monaural recorder in which it was used were becoming smaller. About three years ago, Sony product planners were working on the concept of a hand-held stereo recorder when the firm's chairman and cofounder, Akio Morita, suggested they concentrate on a unit that would play but not record. And so evolved Walkman, originally known as Soundabout in the US. "Dealers told us we were crazy," recalls John Strom, manager of product planning for Sony Consumer Products Co. "They told us we weren't going to be able to sell it. It was the kind of thing where customers had to come in and ask for it to convince the dealers." The Greater Boston Tech Hi Fi chain carries five brands of miniature players but currently has only one of them in stock. "The companies simply can't deliver them fast enough," worries Douglas Corley, the assistant manager of Tech's Harvard square store. "And this," he adds emphatically, "is not a fad." But others see the dark at the end of the tunnel. "There's an opinion that this can be the next CB of the industry," says DiGiacomo of Lechmere Sales, referring to the recent boom-to-bust history of citizens' band radio. "I think we're approaching the curve. This year will be the gangbusters year. Next year is the year it will start to go down." And a question persists. Do we really need to be plugged into this stuff all the time? With sophisticated audio systems in our homes, cars and boats, can't we live without the music and the gadgetry for the rest of the day? Apparently not. Sibylle Friedrich, a Boston business consultant, bought a miniature tape player six weeks ago. She uses it in airplanes, in supermarkets, in the bathtub. She listens to lectures, classical music and Japanese language lessons. She plugs in while walking to her office in the morning and while walking home at night, a 34-minute round- trip journey of "dead time" which is now filled with sound. Friedrich is a little surprised at herself, surprised that she would buy another tape player when she already owned two, surprised that she is so often plugged in. "And I thought," she muses, "that I didn't really need another toy."
WE NEVER FOLLOW,' THE MOTTO AT SONY: [FIRST EDITION] Richard Bill Associated Press Copyright Boston Globe Newspaper Feb 22, 1982 Akio Morita says the smartest business decision he ever made was turning down his first large order - and with it a chance to break into the US market. That was 25 years ago, when Sony was an obscure Japanese firm struggling for survival. Today, Morita, chairman, co-founder and controlling stockholder of Sony Corp., presides over an empire that last year rang up $4.2 billion in sales, has 35,000 employees and is a household name worldwide, its trademark registered in 176 countries. "We do what others don't," says the 61-year-old Morita, eldest son of the 14th head of a sake brewing business that dates back to the 17th century. "We never follow." That, he says, has been the company's motto since it opened for business in May 1946, less than a year after the atom bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Its business then was repairing radios on the third floor of a fire- bombed Tokyo department store. In 1957, Morita set out to conquer America, although his first try ended in failure. Approached by a US company to distribute 100,000 "Soni" transistor radios, Morita agreed - but only if he could use the as-yet unknown brand name. The Americans said no, and so did Morita. A few years later, Sony had established its reputation and was ready to challenge the market. Looking back on the original decision, Morita says, "We couldn't have done it any other way." Morita has been in the vanguard of consumer electronics for two decades, but the history of the firm that started out as Tokyo Telecommunication s Engineering Corp., is a true rags-to-riches story. In the early days, Morita recalls, he and his partner, electronics buff Masaru Ibuka, kept umbrellas propped on their desks to keep out the rain. Their first product, a rice cooker, was not a trailblazer for a long line of successful products. They made 100, sold none. Ironically, Sony's first commercial success, a tape recorder, almost was its undoing. Like the rice cooker, it wouldn't sell. Tape recorders were unheard of in Japan then - there wasn't even a word for it in Japanese - and the $400 price tag was beyond the reach of most consumers. Morita then did what he may do best: He created the market, although in this case somewhat unwittingly, by translating into Japanese a US pamphlet entitled "999 Uses for the Tape Recorder." The boom that followed is history. There now are 10 major Sony plants, with more than 1000 employees in each, and about 30 smaller plants in Japan. Sony also has a plant in San Diego, Calif., one planned in South Carolina, and others in West Germany, Great Britain, France and Spain. Two years ago, Morita again demonstrated his marketing flair when Sony unveiled the "Walkman," a lightweight portable cassette player with earphones. It was quickly imitated by others. "We do not market a product that has been developed already, but develop a market for the product we make," Morita says. "The Walkman offered mobility. It allowed its user to walk around. But there hadn't been anything like that until we introduced it." Morita, with his shock of silver hair, looks like the tycoon that he is. According to one acquaintance, he has imbued the company ranks with the idea that he is "No. 1," and has no heir apparent. Yet, like other employees, he wears a plain work jacket with a plastic badge reading "I Love Sony." Like many Japanese executives his age, he served in World War II - as a naval lieutenant. He is an avid golfer and skier. Unlike the workaholics for which Japan's business world is noted, he spends only eight hours a day at work, entertaining friends at dinner parties at home. He doesn't pursue business in restaurants and geisha houses, as is the custom. Morita lives in Meguro-ku, one of Tokyo's oldest and wealthiest districts, about a l5-minute drive from the office - by chauffeur in a dark blue Mercedes-Benz company car. According to a company biography, his 26-room house has an indoor swimming pool and traditional Japanese-style bath, but only one Japanese-style "tatami" room. Mt. Fuji, 60 miles to the west, can be viewed from a rooftop observation post. The main dining room is done in black and white, so that guests dressed in any colors will not clash. A profusion of audio equipment, presumably all Sony, is connected to 200 loudspeakers throughout the house. Morita is a collector of piano rolls and guests routinely are greeted with George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" wafting through the hallways. His office, on the other hand, is described by aides as "not very gorgeous, very simple in fact." Among Japan's top business leaders, Morita is perhaps the best known outside, and may have helped, more than any other, to bridge the gap between East and West. A frequent visitor to the United States where he once lived briefly, he prefers to use his nearly- fluent English in interviews. His unconventional style has caused the leaders of older firms, some with roots in Japan's feudal age, to criticize Morita as a maverick and an upstart. He scoffs at this, replying that Sony is the "most internationally-minded" of Japanese companies. But Morita does not disagree with the standard litany of Japanese business, that Japan is a resource-poor country that must export to survive. "As a business organization we know we must be competitive. That's our basic principle. We are very specialized. If we veer away from that we will find it very hard to compete," he says. Morita decries the mood of protectionism apparently rising in the West against Japan's export onslaught, but roars with laughter when asked if he believes Japan truly offers an open market to foreign competition. "Of course we do," he says, "but there are differences in the way we do things here." The most marked difference is, he says, is Japan's "lifetime employment" system, under which school graduates joining a company - a 22-year-old joining Sony today can expect to earn $10,900 a year, including eight months in bonuses - are likely to be still working there 25 or 30 years later, as highly-valued employees. "The older ones have gone through the whole range of company operations," Morita says. "They have the experience you can only get with age. That's why all members of the company are willing to work hard. They all share the same fate. And that's why we're willing to invest and spend more - for the future." Morita, however, is critical of the Japanese practice of judging job applicants by the schools they attended. In the 1960s he threatened to burn the school records of employees who had been at Sony more than two years. Instead, he wrote a controversial book challenging the idea that the "right" university is a passport to an easy career. Another advantage of Japanese companies over foreign ones, Morita says, is that they do not have to face shareholders' every quarter and show a profit. That, he says, can only stymie business. Japanese firms are more willing to risk losses in the short-term, expecting that profits will come eventually. Sony is no exception, having several times invested in development of products - among them a color television system, a wristwatch-radio and a camera with built-in voice recorder - that fizzled, sometimes at huge cost. Morita, ever the maverick, does not subscribe to the view that Japan, after years of being regarded as an imitator and student, is now the place where the West must go to learn. "We don't think that," he says. "Japan, whatever people say, is not No. 1. "Whenever we face a problem we try to get new information from the outside. Just like you go to school. Naturally, if we go to school we have to pay tuition, and if we go to school we have to digest what we learned there. "Only then can we combine our technical knowledge with what we've learned. That way we can create new business. We're willing to go back to school any time." Although not highly optimistic about the business outlook for tne next decade, Morita says, he thinks Japanese industry will continue to flourish "at least until the end of this century." "As I said before, whenever we hit some crisis the Japanese people will work very hard to overcome that problem," he says. "We Japanese excel at crisis management - we've had enough experience."
