Nobody is really fooling anybody about the ultimate purpose of unregulated ATV. Not when Milton Shapp of Jerrold and Leon Papernow of H. & B. American have gone on public record predicting that they would one day have the Nation wired coast-to-coast, enabling them to compete at the source for their own programs.

For a decade and more, CATV quietly developed as a supplemental service to broadcasting, bringing signals into remote areas, deep valleys, and large New York buildings in situation where reception was difficult or impossible. Nobody paid much attention.

Nobody, that is, execpt the entrepreneurs who saw in CATV a major economic force. Nobody, that is, execpt the manufacturers of distribution equipment who had a weather eye on the possible future gold mine of pay TV.

Then, all at once, the great awakening.

It was apparent that television signals were in the air, free for the taking. They could be gathered up without so much as a "by your leave," amplified, distributed, and sold direct to the public. No rights charges. No written permission. No utility regulation. No questions asked. It was like hitting a gusher without digging a hole. It was like selling consumer goods without the necessity of buying or making them. It was the dream of Midas come true.

In fact, it reminds me of the classic story of the kid from the Lower East Side who made good. The old neighborhood threw a welcome-home party for him. He arrived in a chauffeured limousine, with a tailored suit, refined jewelry, and a genuine Havana cigar.

"How is it, Izzy," one of his boyhood chums asked, "you could make it so big out of just a little junk business?"

Easy," said Izzy. "I just found out I could make something for $1 I could sell for $5. You'd be amazed how that 4 percent mounts up."

No wonder the big money was attracted to CATV.

It's conceivable that, in the absence of regulation, a maze of wires could blanket the entire Nation with a home potential that would outdraw the very broadcast stations whose free service has made the installation possible in the first place. Indeed this is what has been predicted by the Shapps and the Papernows.

It will not be long, in the absence of regulations, before the owners of the wires can compete directly for program material which can then be sold directly to the subscribing public on a per-program basis.

This would eliminate entirely the messy business of trying to sell politically the concept of allowing on-the-air pay TV using broadcast channels.

By the time broadcasters find themselves staring down the wrong end of a gun barrel, it will be too late.

This, then, is the essence of my argument for immediate and sensible regulation. Along with licensees of some 700 TV and 5,000 radio stations, I simply do not wish to be shot with my own gun.

Last year the FCC, realizing that something must be done to resolve this dilemma, proposed certain rules designed to foster the orderly growth of CATV, while insuring the continued growth, expansion, and diversification of the free broadcast medium.

The FCC is under congressional mandate to see that the still unused UHF channels are developed and made viable. The cornerstone of our national telecommunications policy is diverse broadcasting outlets for local and area service and self-expression. A national wire system-especially one without regulation-would clearly frustrate that policy. The all-channel received law clearly supports that policy. The explosive growth of color TV has begun to implement that policy since every new color set adds another UHF home to the marketplace. New stations are taking the air. A fourth network is in its foetal stages. The FCC's CATV regulation proposals are critically needed to insure the continuation of this growth.

Predictably, pressure is being applied both ways. Broadcasters generally are saying, "Go ahead and regulate;" CATV investors are saying, "Go away and leave us alone." Broadcasters are warned repeatedly that they should not seek CATV regulation because it will only lead to Federal program control. This is a cruel and cynical deception, designed to perpetuate a gigantic raid on the property rights of others.

NCTA, in its filing in this FCC action, started its brief with a Biblical reference, instead of basing the case on relevent fact. I'd like to quote from the opening paragraph of the NCTA brief.

"Contrary to the comments of NAB and AMST,” it begins, "when Moses de scended from Mount Sinai, he did not hold in his hand the table of allocations." It's a good line; and I don't deny the statement is true on its face.

But in response to NCTA's negative, I believe it only fair to examine the positive. If Moses did not bring down the sixth report and its allocation table. what did he hold in his hands?

Scripture tells us he carried stone tablets upon which were graven the 10 commandments.

The sixth commandment is akin to the sixth report. Both of them tell us thou shalt not murder the public's free television. But the seventh and eighth commandments are really germane to unregulated CATV.

The one tell us "Thou shalt not commit adultery," and the other says "Thou shalt not steal."

This, in its simplest form, is the case against the unrestricted proliferation of CATV, without regard to FCC technical regulation, and without regard to the property rights, inherent in an exclusive contract for a program license paid for in good faith by a broadcaster or an advertiser.

No, it's not CATV I'm against. But I am foursquare against a legal permit to adulterate another man's business, to put it in its most delicate terms, and I am unalterably opposed to stealing.

Much of the argument with the FCC's proposals is semantical. But the greatest argument in favor of it is practical. The Commission has an uneasy majority of 4 to 3. But even the spokesman for the minority expresses the same concerns as I do.

Lee Loevinger, most articulate member of the FCC minority, had this to say in a recent article in Television Quarterly:

"It seems to me the proper role of CATV's is to act as a supplementary mode of transmitting television programs. In performance of this function. CATV should transmit and deliver programs without degradation or alteration."

Judge Loevinger embraces the very regulations the Commission proposes; but he wants an act of Congress to authorize them.

“CATV should be defined so as to differentiate it from pay television.” the Commissioner continues, *** [this] may be clearly established by defining CATV as a service which transmits television programs but does not originate programing or charge customers on a per-program basis."

He concludes, "We should require the permission of the originating station for either a CATV or a translator to transmit programs of that station.” I am in complete agreement with Commissioner Loevinger on these require

ments.

But it is my belief that the FCC can, should, and will adopt such measures without waiting for additional enabling legislation from Congress. To delay any longer would be to invite wholesale destruction of the progress already made in developing a nationwide competitive broadcasting system.

Now let's examine Judge Loevinger's comment that CATV should be defined "to differentiate it from pay TV." This is where we find out that every person in this room is a participant in what has previously been considered a family fight. Advertisers, agencies, networks, film producers, and every other facet of the broadcasting complex; you are all equally involved in this critical regula

tory vacuum.

When the FCC enunciates that a CATV must be a service that transmits, but does not originate, programs; when the FCC suggests rules designed to require programs to be delivered without degradation or alteration, the implication is perfectly clear. If not, I'll spell it out.

The need for such regulation stems from the fact that degradation, alteration, and origination are already facts of life in CATV. In the absence of reasonable restraint, a CATV operator is now perfectly free to do with a program what he pleases. If you are an advertiser, you must be content for him to pick up your expensive and highly popular network program, delete your commercials, and insert any material he chooses including commercials for your competitor. is even perfectly free to delete your program altogether, if he doesn't like it, and replace it with weather reports, local traffic conditions, or even a nightly bingo game with cash prizes.

He

Are you outraged? Then join the club. This is your debate. And these are your property rights which remain unprotected.

Much criticism of the FCC proposals claim that they are too harsh and unnecessary. Particular venom has been directed at the so-called nonduplication

.and the distant stations proposals. The claim is made that prohibition luplication by CATV of a TV program for 15 days before and after local cast is unduly burdensome.

's my contention these rules are not only not burdensome but they don't n go far enough to cure the problem. These proposals will generally protect work programing, it's true. But who is worried that networks are in need nuch protection these days? Where a station operator really needs legal ourse is to protect his stake in the programing he must buy in addition to vork programs. This gets scarcer and more expensive every day. he most expensive and most desirable of this nonnetwork programing is -run feature film. A prime-time first-run feature in New York alone, if you d find one, will cost you more than $50,000. How would you like to pay 000 for exclusive use of a top quality feature, only to find that 16 days ›re and after you telecast it, a CATV system could pipe the same show into Isands of New York homes by picking it up off the air from a TV station in 7 Haven or Philadelphia?

nd how good would it make you feel to be told that your problem would bably eventually be solved by decisions in the courts, or even by an act of gress? This problem will still exist, even if we do get tough regulation by FCC on February 10.

red Ford says these are not really problems, because all NCTA members are ly fellows who want no part of originating programs. Ben Conroy is typical good neighbor who wouldn't think of altering a program. Milt Shapp says TV is nothing to be concerned with; because it is, after all, nothing but a long nna cord. Maybe so.

ut the fact remains that programs are being altered by CATV's. The fact is › CATV's do originate programs. And the fact is that Milt Shapp has also ly predicted that he will put together an irresistible nationwide web of wire. he public is entitled to have its stake in free broadcast television protected. the licensees are entitled to have their property rights at least as safe hey are against unwarranted theft by other licensees. The licensees are tled to at least the same restraints upon CATV as are already firmly settled a their own necks.

nregulated proliferation of CATV constitutes the biggest public raid on her man's property since the rape of the Sabine women. And it is clear 1 the purposes and the results are exactly parallel to those of the ancient an warriors.

CATV ceases to be a harmless instrument in the hands of an innocent try boy as soon as that long antenna cord becomes long enough to carry levision program into an area for which the exhibition rights have not been ght or sold; or into an area for which those rights have been bought by a son other than the owner of the long cord.

t that point, the owner of the long cord begins to transgress both the seventh the eighth Commandments. He adulterates a property right and steals enefits.

he FCC already has the power to regulate such abuses. The sixth report ains all the law we need to protect the public, the program owner, and the sees from adulteration and theft.

he public is entitled to have the FCC prevent unregulated CATV from standing is television hose.

TWENTY-SEVEN RATTLESNAKES

address by Lawrence H. Rogers II, president, Taft Broadcasting Co., Cinnatti, Ohio, before the Broadcast Advertising Club, Chicago, Ill., May 11, 165)

robably few, if any issues that have arisen in the perennially controversial 1 of broadcasting have been the subject of so much heat and so little light ommunity antenna television.

́e live in such a competitive atmosphere all of us, advertisers, agencies, and lia people alike that we tend to cast everything within our ken into a comtive concept. Accordingly, it is perfectly natural, whenever a new subject sts our attention, to choose up sides. We seem to have a congenital spirit ompetition that demands we be either for something or against it, often bewe have a clear picture of what it actually is.

A very few in our midst occasionally drift to the surface who can view a new subject with equanimity. Some even have been known to say there is merit of both sides of some arguments. These people we call statesmen. Nevertheless, there is one basic problem that seems to afflict us in the communications field that is more serious than all the others: our seeming inability to communicate, Now let's take this subject of CATV, for example, since that's what you asked me here to talk about. Last week in Louisville I had the opportunity to share the platform with the president of the National Community Television Association in what was billed as a debate over CATV. I made my remarks, ny colleague made his remarks, and there ensued some 30 minutes of discussion and debate. Finally, after about an hour and a half, a hand went up very near the front row and the voice attached to it, which belonged to a Kentucky radio broadcaster, said: "Before we go on with any more of this, fellows, just what the hell is a CATV?"

To lapse into the jargon of the chroniclers of ad alley, we had smeared the cat with axle grease instead of strawberry jam; and we had hauled it up the flagpole in the dark; so nobody licked it off; and nobody saluted.

Reminds me of the classic West Virginia story of the mule trainer who, being presented with a recalcitrant beast that wouldn't stand for harness or bit, picked up a stout length of timber, wound up like Ernie Banks, and clouted the anima? right between the eyes. The owner was outraged and cried. "I asked you to train him, not kill him."

"Wal," said the muleskinner, "Ef'n yer gonna teach a mule somethin', fust you got to git his attention."

That fellow in Louisville got my attention.

Just what is a CATV?

Anyone who has ever seen television in a large Chicago or New York hotel or apartment house has seen CATV. It is simply a master antenna to pick up signals off the air from television stations and then redistribute them by means of long wires, with amplifiers every so often, to a large number of TV receivers. When it's in a hotel or an apartment house, it's called a master antenna. Whet it's in an urban community and the wires run up and down the streets to different houses, it's called a community antenna.

So what's all the shooting about? Why is it good or bad? Why should we be for it or against it? The simple answer is that it is not good or bad; it's a plain fact of technological development.

Why I am supposed to be against it has been amply, and inaccurately, reported in the trade press, and elsewhere. The simple answer is I'm not against CATV. Then what is the objective of CATV, and why is it so all-fired important? Let me tell you a true story.

Before I was fortunate enough to be associated with Taft Broadcasting Co., I had lived some 15 years in West Virginia, during which time I happened to construct and operate the first television station in that rugged and sparsely populated State. As you can well imagine, trying to survive on less than 5,000 sets in an unknown area in 1949 with no network and little programing was a raw struggle for survival.

Even after we built our own long distance relays to bring in major league baseball, it was difficult to convince anyone we were there. My biggest problem was getting to talk to people like Paul Schlesinger or Frank Silvernail. When I would call for an appointment and identify myself by name and market, the receptionist would always reply in faultless Bronx: "Is that Hunt-ting-ton, Long Guy-land?" Well, it was pretty apparent what we really needed was a market.

So, in addition to that long-distance microwave system, we had to build many things including the world's most powerful TV transmitter up to that time; a 1,250-foot tower; a two-city news program that was actually the forerunner of Huntley-Brinkley; and many other innovations. All this was aimed at providing a major television market where none had existed before. In the process, I spent considerable effort visiting the far reaches of the mountainous terrain, trying to determine just how far a TV signal would go and how best to get it there.

On one such field trip, I ventured into a "holler" called Buffalo Creek, which is as I recall in Mingo County, W. Va., on the east side of the Tug Fork which separated the Hatfield clan of feud fame from the Kentucky McCoys.

Anyway, there was a coal camp, a rather neat little village of some seven or eight white painted frame houses, way back in the cleft in the hills, whose only access was the creek bottom itself. As long as the creek was dry, it made a

serviceable, if rough, road. But when it rained well, you've no doubt heard a hillbilly entertainer end a radio show with "Wal, frens an' nabors, see yew same time same station nex' week, the Lord willin' and the creeks don't rise." That's what he meant.

One of these houses was bigger and a little more pretentious than the others. It had a white picket fence around it. It had an "open wire line" leading off the hill into the back of it a sure sign it had a television set. ("Open wire line" was the designation of an uninsulated pair of copper wires that were used to carry TV receiver signals a very long distance from the antenna. Unlike the plastic encased "twin-lead," these were often manufactured by hand, and used bobbipin curlers to keep the separate wires the proper distance apart.)

I walked up on the porch and rapped on the door. It was opened by a neat young thing in an apron with one infant visible. Behind her in the front room was a television set, tuned to my station. The transmitter was pumping out the maximum under the license then, something like 18 kilowatts, ERP and that transmitter was about 90 miles away. And the picture was almost indistinguishable in quality from a studio monitor.

The young lady was a recent Vassar graduate. Her husband was an MIT engineer, getting a few years seasoning as a mine foreman. The girl hadn't been out of those hills in a year; and to her that TV set was the most important single thread she maintained with reality.

So to

Her neighbors, some of them, had never been out of those hills before. them, television represented their first really significant break with the 19th century, with feudalism. No, they were not very selective viewers; but they were seeing things and learning things they had never known existed. And they would have parted with their lives before they would have parted with their television sets. And everyone of them owned a set; and every one of them was hooked into the same open-wire antenna lead. It was a homegrown community antenna system, engineered and built by the young graduate and his neighbors.

I asked the young lady how it was possible for her to receive such truly marvelous reception so far from the station and so deep in the canyon. She took me to the backyard which was literally up against a nearly vertical slope. She said her husband and his friends had spent the entire summer clearing a break in the solid forest and undergrowth 4,000 feet up that sheer slope to hook that wire to a directional antenna in the top of a tree on the summit.

Aghast, I pointed to the fence and said, "What's this?"

"Those," she calmly replied, "are the skins of the 27 rattlesnakes my husband killed putting up our television antenna."

That was the day I learned what America's free television service really means to the public.

You know, it's a wonderfully humbling experience to see what necessity will do for people.

Throughout those mountains those people would go to any length to gain access to television. Even 90 miles away they knew how to fix those sets to get pictures of amazing brilliance and clarity.

But we American city slickers have been spoiled. We take as miraculous an invention as television for granted, and we take it for granted it will always be free for the asking. If the set doesn't work the first time, like a toaster or a waffle iron, we kick it and call for the dealer to come take it away.

Can you imagine a Chicagoan or a Cincinnatian or a New Yorker killing 27 rattlesnakes to put up his antenna?

There is no essential difference between that crude community antenna in Buffalo Creek and the CATV's we're talking about today except that that was a community effort; today's systems are commercial entities which charge a connection fee and a monthly service charge. That homemade system had one channel. The new ones bring in 12 channels, with the promise of many more.

Whenever I hear the snide intellectual critic of television say, "Oh, we never turn it on anymore, since there's never anything of high enough quality for us," I think of those 27 rattlesnakes.

And when I hear a prophet of the brave new world of pay television, I think of these 27 rattlesnakes.

And this is exactly what the promoters of unregulated CATV are looking for: the brave new world of pay-as-you-see.

Milton Shapp, founder of the first company to make CATV equipment, said recently: "The day is not too far distant when almost all American cities-small and large-will be wired for television."