I Get More Technical

I Graduate From Waste Baskets

The more sophisticated tanks that I was making proved to really aid in accelerating the desing. I purchased more acrylic sheets which I cut with my table saw. They were easily welded (glued) together. I could make tanks that fit my choice of design and size. Pictured at left is one of the many early models that I put together and tested. Early on I used timer delay relays (switches with dial-in delays) and sprinkler timers to run the cycles. At first I didn’t know much about wiring. I met a very nerdy looking lad who worked at R-Vac, a local electronics store. He was so typical; pimply face, shirt buttoned all the way up, and all. He had incredibly thick glasses, and had to work with small parts right next to the lenses so he could see. He made a few preliminary “colored pencil” wire diagrams for me, and I was in awe. It looked complex. It seemed that he really knew what he was doing. I asked him if he would work for me on a regular basis, and what he thought he would like to be paid for his efforts. He yes, and he only wanted $6 per hour, which is what R-Vac was paying him! I thought I had struck an engineering goldmine here. I was so impressed with what he had shown me so far, I insisted that I pay him $12 per hour. He was excited. I gave him a prototype like the one shown above left so he could take it home and get it wired. The manual valves were replaced with three motorized ball valves. Weeks went by without any communication from him. I called him several times. He always had excuses for why he didn’t have the wiring completed. “It was leaking.” “I had to go to my grandma’s.” After waiting patiently for weeks, I went over to his house to see what was happening. When I got there, he was working on it in his back yard. The model was hooked up to live 120 volts, and he was actually wiring it barefoot, with a garden hose running to fill the tanks, and flooding his patio. HE COULD HAVE DIED! I told him YOU COULD DIE! He said not to worry; “I do this all the time!” The developer looked like someone dumped a bowl of multi-colored spaghetti over it. The wires were a mess. I pulled the plug on the developer, and possibly saved his life! I gave him a hundred bucks, thanked him, and took the model home. I was going to have to learn how to wire myself. This would be a necessity if I were to continue improving the design. It would be too costly and time-inefficient to continue having to take it to outside “engineers” every time I needed a change in the wiring. I took the model to my lab/garage and placed it on a table. I just sat there and stared at it, with that pile of multi-colored “spagetti” poured all over it. I took a deep breath, wondering if I could really do this. I ripped out all of the old wiring. That night I attempted to re-wire the unit on the coffee table when my wife, Karen, and daughter, Tami, were watching their favorite TV serial. Wiring took a couple of hours. I made some giant mistakes somewhere. When I plugged the “developer” in, which was always an exciting moment early on, there was a flash, a BOOM, smoke, and “lights out”. The whole house was dark, including the TV. Karen and Tami were furious because I caused them to miss part of their show. After some study and practice, I became an expert wirer, and didn’t smoke it again.

I put a unit together, still with the wood shelves holding the tanks in proper position. I had a plastic plate with the sprinkler timer and the relays mounted, and all hooked up to the vacuum and electric valves. I had wired it myself; and I was proud. It looked like a Rube Goldberg invention. I was nervous about my first automated run. For several days, I just ignored it, and never turned it on. I was too nervous that it might fail. Then, one day, I was in the lab, looking for a tool, and there it was; beckoning me. I walked over, closed my eyes, and pressed the start button. The developer valve opened, water flowed into the reaction tank. Thirty seconds later, the vacuum turned on, and sucked the water rapidly back into the developer storage tank, and the developer valve closed, trapping the water in the storage tank. Next the water valve turned on, filling the reaction tank. It drained. Then the fixer tank operated, followed by another water wash. The hair dryer that I had mounted blew hot air into the reaction tank. It worked! Wow!

I Get More Sophisticated Programming

I needed to go to the next level of electronic controllers. I purchased a programmable timer from an electronics shop. I worked weeks reading the instructions and trying to write a program. I never could get the thing to work. I took it back to the shop to get some advice, and waiting there was a nice looking young engineer. We started talking, and I told him of my problem. He very intelligently gave me some tips, mainly that there are few people that can program this type of timer, and he happened to be one who could. He gave me his card. His name was Scott Steel. I went to his shop a couple of days later, and he began working on a program for me. When he finished, the programmer and prototype worked perfectly. Scott has about two hundred and fifty steps for his program. My program had slightly over one hundred. I was only one hundred and fifty steps off. And, I thought I had written a good program! But the best part of my chance meeting with Scott was that I had met the perfect guy to help me take the processor to the next level; a real engineered prototype.

I continued working on prototypes. I got better at cutting and welding tanks, and wiring. At this point, I still hadn’t run film in the “processor”. I still didn’t know if it would work in my office, actually processing film. I was having too much fun putting this project together, deep down inside I didn’t want to find out that it wouldn’t work, which would end the excitement and fun. In 1993, I received my patent, which was accepted, by the USPTO. I was an official inventor!

I was embarrassed to tell anyone not connected with the project that I was in the process of inventing a dental film processor. It just seemed like a very presumptuous thing to say. Even my partner, Dr. Bob Hammond didn’t know what I was doing. One day I had a clear-tank model in our office lab. I had some grinding and shaping to do, and our lab equipment was great for that. My partner came in to pick something up, and took a look at my gizmo. He said, “What is THAT?” I told him, “It’s a fish tank.” I couldn’t think of anything quick enough, so I came up with that dumb answer. “See, the fish start in this tank, go down into this tank, then up into that tank. It’s fun!” He bought it, kind of shrugged, and left. Several months later he asked me how my fish tank was coming. I laughed embarrassedly, and said, “Bob, it’s not a fish tank. It’s a developer.” I was embarrassed that I hadn’t told him the truth; I think he was embarrassed that he fell for my stupid answer. Nothing more was said. Bob became one of my greatest promoters and users. Bob has processed tens of thousands of films since he started using it in 1994; he still uses it today.

We Do Table Clinics at the Dental Conventions

I took my new and more professional models to the dental conventions to try to interest companies in my idea. My daughter Tami, who was a dental hygiene student at the time, and I displayed the processor in what are called “table clinics”. Dentists and dental students are allowed two hours on one day of the convention to show their techniques and ideas. You actually set up your materials on a high table, and conventioneers come by to look and learn. I figured if I could set up the processor, and have it operating, I could bring over companies from the main convention floor, such as Kodak and AGFA, that might be interested in my idea. Tami also got school credits for the demonstration. I made the processor with clear tanks so viewers could see the how the water moves. I used red colored dye in the “fixer” water, and blue dye for “developer” water. I talked to Kodak before the clinic. They sent over two engineers to check out my design. I saw them coming to the table out of the corner of my eye as I was giving a demonstration. Just as they walked up, the electronics glitched, both storage tank valves opened on their own volition at the same time, the reaction tank overflowed, and I had purple (red plus blue) water flooding all over the place. The “crowd” that had gathered to see my invention jumped back so as not to get their clothes dyed. Tami was trying to collect as much purple water as she could in a bucket that held all of my power tools. Ugh. My face was red, and my drill was wrecked. The Kodak engineers left, each with a knowing smirk. I was dying of embarrassment. After I cleaned up the mess and reloaded the tanks, I continued to demonstrate the model with great care. I had to be ready to pull the plug if there was another glitch. When I got home, I took the prototype to Scott. He had made a miscalculation in his programming. That can happen even to great programmers. Programmable timers weren’t easy, and this model was particularly difficult. I had Scott fix the error. I moved onward.

Click on the patent if you would like a better image.

I Get My First Patent!

In February 1993 I heard from the United States Patent Office. They had approved my patent application. What an exciting moment; to be an official patent holder. That alone made all the work worth it. Knowing that you came up with an idea that no one else in the world had come up with was a real kick. Now to see if the patent was worth the work. My wife Karen had it PermaPlaqued, as a surprise. I had my trophy patent. I was a REAL inventor!