Robert Ewing N6MRO
Co-Founder
Robert Ewing (N6MRO) - The Mesh Ninja with a Shopping Problem. Perched atop his Santa Cruz mountain fortress like a radio-obsessed Rapunzel, Robert Ewing surveys Silicon Valley with dreams of blanketing it in mesh nodes—one stealth installation at a time. As cofounder of 73 Mesh, Robert has elevated "unauthorized deployment" to an art form, sneaking repeaters into secure facilities with the grace of a cat burglar, if that cat burglar was wearing a high-vis vest and carrying a 40-pound battery pack. Robert's tower may reach toward the heavens, but his spending habits are kept firmly earthbound by the iron fist of matrimonial economics - the dreaded "dollar-for-dollar rule." Buy a $500 radio? Congratulations, you just funded a spa day. Another mesh node? That's a new handbag, buddy. His XYL has inadvertently become the best-dressed woman in the amateur radio community. When he's not being used as a jungle gym by his two daughters (who've discovered that Dad makes excellent climbing practice), Robert can be found whispering sweet nothings to antennas and explaining to confused facility managers why there's suddenly a mysterious box humming above their server room. Callsign - N6MRO. Translation - Never 6 Months without a Radio Order
Sal Mancuso W6SAL
Co-Founder
Meet Sal Mancuso (W6SAL), a bald, bearded paisano who collects hobbies he’ll never master. It took him a leisurely 20 years to upgrade his ham radio license, a masterclass in procrastination. His origin story? Growing up as a young, round child in the Santa Cruz Mountains, he was traumatized by the ’89 earthquake and concluded that talking to strangers on repeaters was part of his identity. He's in three radio clubs, desperately monitoring 146.520 simplex in the vain hope that someone, anyone, will talk back. Professionally, he's the Forrest Gump of the dot-com booms and busts, having survived TiVo, Apple, and Sun Microsystems. He now tortures data at Stanford, proving that even they have a high tolerance for his questionable life choices. He spreads his unique brand of mediocrity to the youth by coaching multiple sports and serving as Assistant Scoutmaster, ensuring a new generation understands disappointment. He rides a 2005 Harley (a textbook mid-life crisis) and completes "road cycling rides" that real cyclists call pulling out of the driveway. He fishes to escape his far more successful wife, whose executive gig and Notre Dame Master’s paid for his… everything. A fan of the San Francisco 49ers, San Francisco Giants, and Oregon Ducks, he's committed to a lifetime of suffering. Sal is living proof that if you spread mediocrity thin enough, it almost looks like talent.