In the wake of movies like Star Wars, androids and robotic companions had captured the public’s

imagination like never before.

As a result there were dozens of entrepreneurs and start-ups attempting to capitalize on

this high-tech obsession, with one of the forerunners being the Android Amusement Corporation.

Their electro-mechanical creations were conceived as fun entertainment devices, built to dazzle

the public at trade shows and get-togethers.

But by 1982, one of their bots known as the DC-2 was making headlines for everything from

participating in legal protests, to serving drinks in the Playboy Mansion, to being apprehended

by the Beverly Hills Police Department in what was likely the first robot “arrest” ever.

What happened?

This is LGR Tech Tales, where we take a look at noteworthy stories of technological inspiration,

failure, and everything in-between.

This episode tells the tale of the Android Amusement DC-2: Robotic Outlaw.

Our story begins in 1978 with the Android Amusement Corporation of Arcadia, California.

Previously known as Games People Play, Android Amusement was the brainchild of Mr. Gene Beley,

a 38-year-old journalist who’d become fascinated with the world of electronics after covering

a speech by science fiction author Ray Bradbury.

Previously this company focused on maintaining video arcade cabinets and pinball machines,

but on becoming the west coast representative of Quasar Industries Incorporated, who built

“Sales Promotional Androids,”

having the word “android” in the new company name seemed fitting.

“Amusement” was a key part of the name as well, emerging from Mr. Beley’s personal

philosophy on their android products.

And that was they were amusement devices, show robots,

which he called “mobile entertainment centers.”

Several companies with promises of autonomous android servants and domestic robots had failed

to meet expectations already, and Beley wasn’t keen on misleading anyone.

The first bot they sold was Quasar Industry’s Klatu, a 240 pound, five foot four inch tall

machine that was available to rent for trade shows, parties, county fairs, and anyone who

had between $700 and $2000 a day to spare.

Klatu could be outfitted in various bodies depending on the venue, but the idea remained

the same: it was a remote-operated machine that could be rolled around to talk with patrons

and crack jokes with sci-fi flair.

But it wasn’t long before Android Amusement severed ties with Quasar and began development

on their own androids.

Initially this was done with the help of Mr. Ray Raymond, a designer of restaurant equipment

who’d contacted Beley after reading an article he’d written about robotics.

Their first bot was one they named Argon: a 300 pound, five foot tall machine that initially

cost about $50,000 in parts to produce in 1979.

Much like Klatu before it, Argon wasn’t a “robot” in the strictest definition,

seeing as it wasn’t autonomous, but was rather a remote-controlled entertainment machine.

Argon was packed with electronics to let it move around, turns its head, move its arms,

and play computer games on a small CRT TV in its chest.

The whole setup was controlled remotely by an operator just out of sight, and the voice

that came from it was spoken by the operator through an inconspicuous wireless mic and

broadcast through Argon.

Still, this was one amusing android indeed, captivating audiences young and old at everything

from business openings, to industry conferences, to local bars.

“People may write him off as a space age Mickey Mouse now,

but he’s the wave of the future,” said Beley in 1979.

“It’s like the Wright brothers building the first airplane.

The possibilities are limitless with robots.”

And they certainly didn’t limit their robots to looking like robots either, as another

early offering from his company was a pair of motorized mannequins

called Adam and Andrea Android.

Ray Raymond had left the company by the time these launched, but the core electronics were

quite similar in functionality to his Argon creation.

The idea was to make Adam and Andrea more humanoid, ideal for parties and discos.

For example, an operator would wheel either of the $10,000 androids over to various party-goers,

offer them their hand, and bring them over to the dance floor, all while transmitting

speech as their head moved side to side.

"Those two androids were basically novelties," said Beley in later years.

"We felt that the next logical step was a robot that served a useful purpose."

What resulted in the latter half of 1980 was The Drink Caddy 1, or DC-1, which did exactly

as the name suggests: it was a caddy for drinks.

Built on top of a motorized wheelchair base and controlled using 72MHz RC aircraft components,

DC-1 cost around $5,000 and stood four and a half feet tall.

It held a tray for delivering 10-ounce mixed drinks, stored bottles and canned beverages

inside its body, had metallic arms made from Sweetheart cup dispensers, played music from

an AM/FM radio in its chest, and kept chilled ice cubes under a removable plastic head.

And while it never sold in great numbers, only being stocked in a single Beverly Hills

boutique, the revenue from selling and renting out the DC-1 was enough to create a successor.

Finally, Android Amusement’s ultimate show bot was released: the DC-2.

Priced between $9,000 and $20,000 and standing at four and a half feet tall, the Drink Caddy

2 was a culmination of the best tech available in 1981.

It still had a tray for carrying drinks, but now you could swap out the booze for an 8-bit

microcomputer system, with an Atari 400 and a Commodore VIC-20 as the most common options.

These ran through a 5 or 9 inch color CRT TV in its chest, handy for both playing games

and displaying promotional material from the computer or a VHS player.

And like every bot going back to Klatu it had a speaker system for broadcasting the

voice of a remote operator, AM/FM radio, as well as optional dual 8-track cassette players

for playing music, sound effects, and pre-recorded speech.

And on top of its sleek fiberglass body was a bulbous transparent head containing an integrated

video camera, which when output through a TV would show the DC-2’s point of view.

And even though it was only being produced at 6 units a month, demand was high relative

to previous bots, with exports to Japan, England, Australia, South Africa, and West Germany.

For a while the DC-2 was seemingly popping up everywhere.

It was on the cover of National Geographic World.

It was a headline feature of retail promotion events at Dayton’s Department Stores in Minnesota.

It hosted student tours through the facilities of computer storage company, Verbatim.

It was the robot mascot for Fromex One Hour Photo Systems.

It showed up in the May 1981 issue of Playboy magazine after a specially-built DC-2 was

purchased for Hugh Hefner and gifted to him for Christmas with the help of Bob Keeshan,

better known as Captain Kangaroo.

A DC-2 even ended up picketing in front of the San Mateo County Public Courthouse, hired

to protest the state’s divorce laws

and blasting the song “She Got the Goldmine (I Got the Shaft)” by Jerry Reed.

"This must be the most unusual assignment we've had yet.

I think it's the first time a robot ever picketed anywhere.”

And it certainly wouldn’t be the last unusual DC-2 event Gene Beley would be questioned over.

On August 18, 1982 a DC-2 was seen roaming the streets of Beverly Hills, just off the

famous Sunset Boulevard on North Beverly Drive.

Its operator was nowhere in sight, but it was rolling up and down the sidewalks, talking

to passers-by, and offering up Android Amusement company business cards.

Not only that, but it was rush hour, and the DC-2’s presence was slowing down traffic

even more and starting to draw a crowd.

The police arrived on-scene, assuming it was some kind of unauthorized publicity stunt,

asking the DC-2 to identify what it was doing there and who was controlling it.

After the unseen operator refused to identify themselves or shut down the robot, the officers

began looking for a way to disable the battery.

The robot began fleeing the police,

reportedly shouting “Help me, they’re trying to take me apart!”

After a brief pursuit they were able to disable the bot, load it onto a tow truck, and hauled

it to the nearest precinct to be locked up until the owner was found.

Since it was stocked with Mr. Beley’s business cards,

investigators headed to his home for questioning.

It was determined that he wasn’t the one controlling the DC-2, but rather it was a

result of his two sons taking it out for a joy ride of sorts.

Scott and Shawn Beley, then aged 17 and 15 respectively, had taken the DC-2 out of the

back of the van they were driving, it having been left in there after a promo event the day prior.

The boys decided to have a bit of fun in the suburbs of Beverly Hills, but panicked after

the police arrived, leaving the bot behind as it was hauled off to jail.

Initially suspecting it was an adult behind the robot’s actions, Beverly Hills PD had

planned to charge its owner with operating a business without the proper license, solicitation

of business on a public sidewalk, and obstructing an officer in the performance of his duty.

But after talking to the two youngsters, they decided not to charge anyone, passing them

off to the department’s Youth Services Section.

In the end, the duo had to pay a $40 towing fee and received a talking-to from youth services

about what’s allowed on the sidewalks of Beverly Hills.

"The kids had it without permission and were just screwing around.

There will be no criminal filing.”

said Lieutenant Russell Olson, quickly following it up with “I'll guarantee you, if other

people try it we will run the gauntlet.

We don't take something like this lightly."

As for what happened with the DC-2 afterward?

Well after being freed from jail, so to speak, and making headlines around the country, it

went onto be used for promotional events for several years, along with its DC-2 siblings.

One unit ended up playing the role of a robot butler in the 1984 feature film, Covergirl,

starring the late Jeff Conaway as a tech entrepreneur character who, among other things, designed

robots and androids.

DC-2s were repurposed for use in TV shows as well, like Episode 20 of the third season

of the show Hill Street Blues, where a unit they called the TK4600 was outfitted in armor

plating and weaponry.

Another DC-2 received a fancy tuxedo-clad overhaul, referred to as Mr. Telebot, which

roamed conference center hallways and

danced to Bruce Springsteen songs at the 1985 Robot World Congress.

But this popularity peaked in the mid-80s, with Android Amusement losing momentum as

public interest moved on.

Ray Raymond, the company’s original robot designer, ended up working on other robotics-related

products under Animation International, like the 15 foot tall Blastar Spaceship prototype:

a smoke-filled maze filled with robots that participants blasted with lasers.

That was the idea at least, if this $250,000 amusement device was ever produced.

And Gene Beley continued his career in journalism: founding, editing, and publishing the Country

News publication in Morgan Hill, California, and authoring a monthly article for Sea Magazine

from his 28-foot yacht floating in the California Delta.

He also made the media rounds in the mid-2000s for his alternate recordings of Johnny Cash’s

famous 1968 “At Folsom Prison” performance, as well as writing a 234-page biography on

Ray Bradbury, the author who’d inspired his foray into electronics in the first place.

But the DC-2 robots and the company behind them gradually faded into obscurity while

the idea of a robot revolution was once again relegated to science fiction.

Even if that much-hyped uprising still hasn’t taken place as advertised, the 21st century

has seen a notable uptick in the adoption of robotic and artificially intelligent companions.

They may not yet do much more than clean your floors, perform interactive search engine

queries, or look supremely unsettling, but now more than ever the idea of a future filled

with robots seems inevitable.

Only time will tell though if one of these modern machines will ever claim the honor

of being incarcerated by police in Beverly Hills.

And if you enjoyed this episode of LGR Tech Tales then thank you very much!

This one’s been in the works for quite so time.

So subscribe if you would like or check back for new videos every week.

And as always thank you very much for watching!