I Finally Process Film

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At this point in the process, I still hadn’t developed any film. I put all of my efforts into smoothly moving the liquid (water) from tank to tank. I was a bit reluctant and nervous to actually process film, as deep down inside I didn’t think my idea would really work. I was having too much fun making these models, and I really didn’t want it to end just yet. I took this model to another convention, and did another table clinic. One of the engineers from a large company that I had contacted came over to check it out. He said, “Everyone knows that you can’t flow developer and fixer into the same tank. You’ll contaminate the developer! The films will come out foggy” He said the chemicals “will turn into pea soup!” I told him, “Then I invented a pea soup maker! Ha Ha Ha”. He didn’t laugh. Trying to interest companies in my idea was like running into a block wall. Actually, at this point, I didn’t know if he was right or not.

I Finally Process Film

I worked about 18 months on gradually improving developer models before I finally made one that was ready to process film. Pictured at left above is the first film model that actually did process film. That’s me, right off the tennis court. My “lab” looked more like a real lab as I got more into the project. The night that I processed the first film, I installed the unit after I finished my patient schedule. My family came to the office to see how it would work. We were then going to go to dinner and celebrate my sure success! I nervously loaded it with chemicals, put an exposed film in, pressed the “START” key, and off it went. Developer came into the reaction tank, then the vacuum turned on to return the developer, then I heard the water valve “click”, then fixer flowed into and out of the reaction tank, then the water valve “clicked”, then the hair dryer that I first used to dry the film turned on. What a masterpiece! It worked perfectly! I was so excited, until I pulled the film out. It looked like gunk! Ugh. It was awful. The very first film was a failure! We went out to dinner, me in the most sagging mood imaginable. All of that work, and I couldn’t even process one piece of film. We ordered and ate. In the middle of dinner, I got a brain flash! I knew why the processor didn’t work…….I didn’t turn on the outside water valve! No water came into the tank to wash, so the chemicals were dried on the film! We went back to the office and ran another film with the wash water turned on, and out came a perfect film! The next day I used the processor to develop all of my patient x-rays, and the processor worked perfectly. I was amazed! I thought since I was putting two chemicals into one tank, the chemicals would soon contaminate and fog the film. The first time out I actually ran 50 sets of x-rays, about 250 films, before there was any sign of contamination. After improving the wash design, that number jumped to 250 sets. To this day, I don’t understand why contamination is not a problem with the processor, but it isn’t; not at all. The center photo is me with the first operational processor. The right photo is my assistant Cara.

A University Student Uses My Processor

A student at Long Beach State had heard of my processor. He majored in industrial design, and asked me if he could use it for his senior project. He would design an outer chassis for the processor. The picture above is me with the processor that he turned in. It didn’t look too much like my developer, and it wasn’t operational. But I was glad to help him out, though, and honored that he selected my invention for his senior project.

Press the play key on the lower left.

I Figure out a “Second Cycle”

The biggest problem with my processor was that, since there was only one reaction tank, if an assistant wanted to process film while another set was running, she would have to wait until the first cycle finished. This problem would make the processor ergonomically weak. The assistant’s time would be tied up, and the dentist who wanted film right away would also have to wait. I tried devising a second reaction tank. At the time I couldn’t really come up with a design that would be feasible. Everything that I drew was not only awkward, but also very complicated to program. One night I woke up and I immediately had what I thought was a fabulous idea. It was almost as if I was thinking in my sleep. I would use a rotating lid. (see video above) The film cassette would be locked upside-down on the top of the lid. The first cycle key would be pressed. The lid would then rotate down into the circular reaction tank. Chemicals would flow in, starting the first cycle. A second cassette could then by attached to the “new” lid top and a second cycle key would be pressed by the operator. When the first cycle was completed, the lid would rotate the first cassette(s) up, and the second cassette(s) down into the reaction tank, starting the “second” cycle. Of course rotation would occur after the “dry” cycle when the reaction tank was empty. An assistant who wanted to process film while a first set was processing would not have to wait until the the first set was completed.

I Needed Professional Engineering

After I processed thousands of films in my office, I realized that I had done what no other major dental company was able to do: make a film processor that was incredibly reliable. My film loss was near zero. As far as I could tell, my processor obsoleted the roller developer that had been the highly hated scourge of dental offices throughout the world. My percent of lost films approached zero. I hired the engineer that helped with my programming, Scott Steel. (top left) Scott worked with me on an advanced design for my next stage model. I had to have a more professional look so that I could now interest companies in my new and “working” processor. I also needed help with the “rotating lid”. We built the next prototype using Scott’s CAD (computer drawings), and computer (CNC) cutting machines. The new model looked sensational compared to the “Rube Goldberg” looking model that we had run in the office for eighteen months. It was unimaginably exciting to install it and give it a test run. The first films came out like a dream. My partner Bob and I ran this model for several years with the same great success that I had with my first model. Scott did an amazing job working with me on the processor. I always kidded that I was in the Steel School of Engineering, since I really did learn a great deal from working with Scott, and watching Scott work. Scott is a determined and dedicated engineer. If I was ever in trouble trying to finish a processor before a convention, Scott would hang in until it was finished, even until the wee hours of the morning. (top center) It is amazing when working on devices such my processor, how some things go well, others not so well, even though good common sense and engineering practices are followed. We worked on a special triple-opening valve that would allow the flow of developer and fixer solutions, and water in and out of the reaction tank. After six months, and $10,000 in engineering costs, I mounted the finished valve on a processor. The vacuum pulled the valve open, and let bubbles through and into the storage tanks, which meant failure. The bubbles indicated that contamination would occur. The next day I tried the strongest spring that I could use to hold the valve shut, with the same result. I removed the triple-valve and threw it in the trash. Out went six months of work and $10,000. Such is inventing. I went back to the motor-operated ball valves that I used on my earlier models. Actually, they worked perfectly without allowing leakage when the vacuum was on. They were costly ($150 each), which is why I tried to design around them.

Interestingly, our rotating lid had over ten parts. An electromagnet pulled a rod away from a hole in a rotating cylinder that was attached to the lid. A motor would rotate the lid. The electromagnet would turn off before the lid was all the way around. A spring would then push the rod against the cylinder as it turned, until the hole came around and engaged the rod. This would have the effect of stopping the lid at a perfect horizontal postion. One day I was perusing the Grainger Hardware catalogue and I saw a “brake motor”. I called the company and asked what a brake motor was. I was told that it stops as soon as the power is turned off. It has a small brake that doesn’t allow the motor to coast. That would mean that all I would need was the brake motor and a magnetic sensor to cut the electricity when the lid is level. The cost of manufacture would be greatly reduced just by this one change. I purchased a brake motor, and gave it to Scott. He installed it and modified the program to fit the new parts. We were able to eliminate almost ten parts and a lot of assembly.

I Interest Kodak

I showed my “Scott Steel engineered” processor at the SCDA convention table clinic in 1995. A sales rep walked by briskly as Tami and I were packing up our equipment. He did a double-take at the processor, and stopped. “What is that?” he said. “A film processor”, I answered. I looked at his lapel badge. He was Steve Snyder from Kodak! I couldn’t believe it. After my first embarrassing episode with Kodak, I hadn’t talked to them at all. “Can you demonstrate it for me?” I hadn’t disconnected it yet, so I pressed the start key and a cycle started. I explained what was happening as it ran. He was wowed. He loved it. Steve asked me if I could wait a few minutes before leaving. He wanted to get another rep to take a look. Of course I agreed. When he left, Tami, Karen, who had just come up, and I were so excited. “Can you believe, KODAK?” Steve was back in five minutes with another rep, Tony Block, who had “Vice-President” under his name on his Kodak badge. I gave them another demonstration. Tony loved it. Tony wanted a Kodak rep to see the processor operate in my office. The next week he referred Jack Nowlan to see the processor in actual operation. Before I let him see it really work, I had him sign a non-disclosure non-reverse engineering agreement. I then took him to the darkroom and ran some exposed film for him. He was extremely impressed. Jack made a phone call to the main office, and set up a telephone interview for me the next morning at 7:30. I would be talking to the President of Health Sciences, Maxine Arnold.

Naturally that night my head was spinning. I couldn’t get Kodak off my mind. This was, indeed, a very exciting moment. The next morning the phone rang right on time. Steve Snyder and Maxine were on the line in a conference call. We talked for about twenty minutes. I described how the processor works, and gave Maxine my thoughts on the future of dental radiology. She said that they were very interested in the processor, and they would be calling me.

The next week Steve did call me with several questions. The following week there were no more calls.; they faded to zero. After about a month, I called Steve. He was “in a meeting”, and would call me back. He never did. I called again a week later with the same results. I was pretty amazed. Steve and I had struck up a kind of business friendship in the short time that we knew each other. I thought we had a great rapport. I guess Steve was all show.

A year went by with no contact from Kodak. I attended the next convention in Anaheim. I found the Kodak booth, and there was Steve Snyder! I went up to him, and in a very friendly way, I shook his hand. He looked like a deer staring into headlights for a second. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He nervously said, “Hi Doctor Blume.” He didn’t look happy to see me. I asked, “What happened to Kodak’s interest in my processor?” He studdered nervously. He told me that Kodak makes chemicals for all of the other dental processor companies. They felt that if they brought out a competing processor, they would lose all of their chemical business with the other companies. So, they decided not to follow-up on mine. I asked him why he didn’t write or call me and let me know. He just kind of gurgled out an answer. I left. He seemed relieved when I did.

Shortly after Kodak disappeared on me, they brought out the dumbest project that I have ever seen. A dentist would scan all of their patient X-Ray film and send the discs to Kodak for storage. The dentist could display the images to his patient on a computer monitor. If the dentist’s office ever burned down, Kodak would have the back-up that they created, preventing the loss of all of the dentist’s X-Rays. Loss of X-Rays when an office burns down is a big problem; but a very rare one. Kodak promoted this project with full page advertisements in every dental journal. At the conventions they set up twenty or thirty chairs and had a manic sales rep with a microphone attached to his head giving a sales pitch like a home show rep selling Vegematics. Kodak actually thought that dentists would be so interested in this project that they would fill the chairs and listen to what the rep had to say, and line up to buy. The only people that used the chairs were tired dental assistants that wanted to rest their feet. Virtually no one listened to the sales pitch, or had any interest whatsoever. After spending tens of millions of dollars putting this project together and promoting it, Kodak took it off the market. If they would have only asked me, or hired me as a short-term consultant, I could have saved them millions of dollars. I knew the minute I saw that project that no dentist on the planet was going to spend their spare hours removing all of their X-Ray films from their charts, scanning them, and shipping the discs to Kodak for copying. This was the biggest but most highly promoted turkey that I have ever seen in the dental world. I must say I got a bit of a chuckle out of it, since they treated me so coldly.

In February of 1997 I got a call from Maxine. She said that Kodak had renewed interest in my processor. “Could I cancel my patients next week, and come to Rochester and give a demonstration? We will purchase plane tickets, and call you with ticket information in a couple of days.” I acted excited, and said “Sure!” I didn’t cancel my patients, or make any arrangements. I knew Kodak well enough by now, and figured I would never hear from them again. I stored the phone call note in my desk for the fun of it. Three years later when I retired and I was cleaning out my desk, I found the note with the date 2/22/97 on it. What a disappointing feeling. I ran into Maxine at a later convention and inquired why she had not called me back. She said that the Asian stock markets had crashed and Kodak decided not to bring out any new equipment. Of course the obvious question was, “Why didn’t you call me and let me know that?”. I didn’t ask it. That was the end of my dealings with Kodak.