Just as every 30s Exposition had to have nude or "nude" girls, every one had to have a working robot. San Diego chose Alpha, the creation of "Professor" Harry May, who debuted him at the 1932 London Radio Show. Alpha had been making a tour of the States, landing a long article in Time magazine based on a publicity appearance in Macy's New York.
Trumpeted as “almost human,” the robot could talk, sing, whistle (for half an hour), laugh, carry on a conversation, tell time, fire a revolver and read the small print of a newspaper. When May inquired what the automaton liked to eat, it responded with a minute-long discourse on the virtues of toast made with Macy's automatic electric toaster. Finally when May requested the creature to raise its arm and fire the pistol, the arm went up, the metal forefinger pulled the trigger, the firing-pin fell with a click. Professor May explained that store officials would not permit him to use blank cartridges.
Which probably was best for everyone around, since premature firings of the gun had badly burned May in England. The repartee sounded good, if one got past Alpha's heavy cockney accent, but was supplied by a synchronized phonograph hidden off stage. Or perhaps by Alpha's handlers. Nobody really knows for certain what if anything Alpha could do other than be a giant metal puppet typical of his day. Answering questions, firing a gun, merely standing up, were part of the standard bag of audience-astounding tricks for most of the dozen or so robots who went on display on the department store and electric utility appliance dealership circuit in the late 20s and 30s. A metal statue that weighed 2000 pounds had no capacity to do more, even with discrete cables running offstage. Alpha's only real distinction is that despite May’s changing his appearance several times, he had the most hideous face of any early robot.
