Hedy Lamarr, composer devised radio system

By Doug Bedell / Staff Writer of The Dallas Morning News
Published 09-08-1998

In the years following World War II, Hedy Lamarr was a Hollywood vamp with everything: worldwide fame, a huge studio contract, a string of rich husbands and a patent for radio technology that could help U.S. submarines sink Nazi ships.

Today, her fame endures, of all places, in the computer world as one of the unlikely inventors of "spread spectrum" radio technology, a complex wireless communications system that is helping rural communities get fast, cheap access to the Internet.

Conceived on a cocktail napkin as a low-wattage radio transmission system that could spread radio messages through the spectrum like chords from a player piano, SST and other radio technologies are believed by some to hold the key to wireless connectivity.

The SST system already is being used successfully from Silicon Valley to Mongolia.

"It's revolutionary, really revolutionary," said David Hughes, a retired Army officer and longtime wireless advocate. "Lawyers and bureaucrats have always treated the spectrum as real estate to be sold off. They can't grasp the concept."

Although similar technologies have been used in modern conveniences as disparate as cellular phones and garage door openers, Mr. Hughes and other SST advocates credit Ms. Lamarr and her friend, composer George Antheil, for the original idea.

In Hollywood, Ms. Lamarr - pouty star of Samson and Delilah and Ecstasy - was quoted as saying: "Any girl can be glamorous. All she has to do is stand still and look stupid."

Born Hedwig Kiesler, the daughter of a Viennese banker, she was anything but stupid. In 1934, Ms. Lamarr, already a teen film star, married Fritz Mandl, an Austrian industrialist. She became intimately familiar with a variety of technological concepts while accompanying him to business conferences. After three years, and with the dark cloud of Hitler hanging over Europe, Ms. Lamarr fled from Mr. Mandl and Europe, later signing a contract with MGM.

As war broke out, Ms. Lamarr became a devout leader of the campaign to sell war bonds, once selling $7 million on behalf of the government in a single evening. But driven by an effort to cripple the German war machine she had seen firsthand with her ex-husband, Ms. Lamarr looked for a headier way to help the U.S. war effort.

At a Hollywood cocktail party given by actress Janet Gaynor, Ms. Lamarr met Mr. Antheil. The two began exploring ways to help Allied submarines elude radio-jamming techniques employed by the Nazis - techniques Ms. Lamarr had become familiar with during her years with Mr. Mandl.

Mr. Antheil was considered an offbeat and eccentric composer and a devotee of mechanized music. His 1926 Paris production of Ballet Mecanique was scored for 16 synchronized player pianos, two electrically driven airplane propellers, four xylophones, four bass drums and a siren.

Ms. Lamarr's idea was to use radio waves that hopped from frequency to frequency in split seconds. Mr. Antheil became convinced that this could be achieved through piano-roll-like devices. In a patriotic swell, the two patented their "Secret Communication System" on Aug. 11, 1942, and donated it to the Navy as a way to guide missiles and torpedoes to Nazi targets. They never promoted the concept, however, preferring to regard it as their personal contribution to the war effort.

Although accepted as theoretically sound, the technology was discounted as impractical by the Allies and abandoned. It was only the reintroduction of spread spectrum by Sylvania Corp. in 1957, made possible by high- speed processors, that their contribution was brought to light.

Spread spectrum transmissions, used by the military for encoding microwave signals, have helped keep signal intelligence communications top secret for decades. And other spread spectrum patents have acknowledged the Lamarr-Antheil design.

Today, Apple Computer, a host of Silicon Valley Internet service providers, libraries and developing countries are using spread spectrum technology to link themselves wirelessly to the Internet. But Internet engineers and connectivity experts continue to be skeptical.

Mr. Hughes, a computer consultant in Colorado City, Colo., is one of those trying to breathe new life into SST. Under the auspices of the National Science Foundation, Mr. Hughes and his colleagues are successfully bringing high-speed Internet access across 10- to 15- mile chunks of even the most remote locations using small, fairly cheap 1-watt radios that require no licensing to operate on free public frequencies. Residential customers receive their signals through rooftop antennae.

But unlike other wireless connections, which require line modem connections for programming instructions, SST signals are two-way. The speed into the computer is the same as the speed out, and phone lines aren't needed. SST has become a highly efficient communication method because it enables multiple users to share radio frequencies at the same time. And some major high-tech companies are showing serious interest in the technology, spurred by redefined FCC regulations that classify SST transmitters the same as garage-door openers: no license required.

Scott Mindemann, a CS Wireless Communications executive in charge of an Internet connection service in Dallas called The Beam, thinks SST wireless may be successful in rural areas but doubts that it can find a dependable niche inside urban centers.

"You've got all the data links on the same spectrum," he said. "Anybody can go into it. Trucks can drive by and start broadcasting, and you get blown out of the water. It's not the most efficient technology."

Meanwhile, the FCC, which has traditionally auctioned off transmission frequencies to radio and television stations, fears unfettered use of the so-called public spectrum will produce CB-quality clutter and ultimately unreliable service. But real-life SST applications suggest that it may become more successful than doubters believe.

In the small, poor, rural town of Center, Colo., students use school- loaned laptop computers inside homes that often don't have telephone service. A pair of Metricom Ricochet wireless modems gives free access to an Internet connection with speeds roughly equivalent to that of a T-1 line, about 1.5 megabytes per second.

"The key here is that it's a new technology," says Mr. Hughes, who believes the technology is a perfect solution to the costs associated with connecting remote hospitals, public libraries and school districts to Internet information resources.

About three years ago, the National Science Foundation and Mr. Hughes sent two men into Mongolia, where they hooked eight radios to a communications satellite link. The nation's telephone system was too primitive to carry Internet data, but the radio-satellite combination made the connection to seven universities and other institutions.

"Right now, Mongolians ride their Manchurian ponies up to the National Library and they surf the Net," Mr. Hughes said. "The last three kilometers of connection is completely wireless."

Ms. Lamarr and Mr. Antheil, who died in 1959, received little or no money for their patent. Ms. Lamarr retired to Miami, where at age 85, she reportedly lives on a modest Screen Actors Guild pension. But the two unlikely inventors are receiving belated recognition.

This year, at Mr. Hughes' urging, Ms. Lamarr and Mr. Antheil received the Electronic Frontier Foundation's Pioneer Award.
PHOTO (S): Hedy Lamarr.

© 1998 The Dallas Morning News All Rights Reserved

Back to Top
Send a letter to the Editor about this story
Discuss this story in our technology forum