On November 6, 1935, an engineer named Edwin Howard Armstrong stood before the Institute of Radio Engineers in New York. His paper had a simple title: “A method of reducing radio disturbance through a frequency modulation system.”
But what he revealed was anything but simple. Armstrong had invented FM radio—a way to deliver sound without the crackle and static of AM. For the first time, voices and music could be heard with breathtaking clarity.
It should have been his greatest triumph. Instead, it became his downfall.
Armstrong was no stranger to invention. He had already given the world the regenerative circuit and the superheterodyne receiver—technologies that made radio practical and reliable. But each breakthrough drew him into conflict with powerful corporations—AT&T, Westinghouse, and especially RCA.
FM threatened RCA’s empire. They had invested heavily in AM and were determined not to let it be overshadowed. Armstrong built his own FM network on frequencies between 42 and 49 MHz—a true revolution in the making. But in 1945, after intense lobbying, the FCC reassigned the FM band to 88–108 MHz, instantly making Armstrong’s system obsolete. Years of work vanished with the stroke of a pen.
Even worse came next. FM stations were limited to lower power, crippling their reach. RCA pushed television instead, while Armstrong was dragged through endless, costly lawsuits. His genius was buried beneath corporate pressure and legal battles.
On January 31, 1954, at 63 years old, Armstrong—exhausted and broken—wrote a farewell letter to his wife, Marion. Then he stepped from the 13th floor of his New York apartment.
Yet every time we tune in to FM, we hear his legacy. The clear notes of a song, the pure tone of a human voice without static—that was Armstrong’s gift. He gave us silence amid the noise.
History tried to silence him, but his invention still speaks for him today.