OVER THE AIR

Press, Volume LXX, Issue 21162, 12 May 1934, Page 18

OVER THE AIR

EXECUTION BY RADIO

A FANTASY OF 1954 [The Radio. Broadcasting Board has recently lengthened its hours of transmissions.] After the warder left the cell and the key was turned in the lock outside the prisoner gazed round the apartment he was destined to occupy for an indefinite period. A semi-circular metal cell, with chromium-plated walls, it was the last word in 1954 cell comfort, with a rubber composite carpet on the floor, opaque glass furniture, a comfortable settee, and soft indirect lighting; a thermometer showed the temperature to be 05 degrees; and from somewhere hidden in the ceiling came the sounds of broadcast music. Jon Smiff regarded the cell with mild approval. How very different was prison life when compared with the old days. Why, at the beginning of the century a prison' cell was a Cwd, bare, square place, with a plain deal table, a board bed, and a Bible. In the old days if a man was unlucky enough to be convicted of murdering his wife, he was sentenced to be hanged by the neck until he was dead, "And may God hn.ve mercy on your soul," said the judge. But now—things had changed. The law was merciful: and instead of sentencing him to death when he was found guilty of homicide, the judge had merely addressed Jon Smiff mildly, looking at him with a benevolent gaze over the rims of his spectacles. "Jon Smiff," he had said, "you have been found L-'ilty—quite rightly, I think—of the crime of murdering your wife. The extreme penalty for this crime is, as you know, imprisonment for life. But in view of the jury's recommendation to mercy, the sentence of the court is that you shall undergo six months' imprisonment in one of the newly established Cells of Trial. And—ah—may—God have mercy on your soul!" Jon Smif examined the cell more closely; on the frosted glass table was a card with the day's menu printed on it. Dinner appeared to consist of soup, fried sole, roast chicken, and a savoury. The spirits of Jon SmifT rose considerably. It would seem that the State was grateful to him for his dispatch of the late Mrs Snuff. If this was the Cell of Trial, his trials had not yet started. He sank upon the soft settee, lighted a cigarette; the children's hour began on the wireless, and he was com pelled to rise in order to find the switch to turn off the speaker. But as there was no switch to be found and the wireless was hidden somewhere in the ceiling, he could do nothing about it. So he lay and smoked until the warder came.

The warder seemed as kind as the cell was comfortable.

Quite all right?" asked the warder. aff aWy- , "Would you like a cigar?" No thanks," said Jon SmiiT. "I'm fine."

"Nothing else I can do for you?" "Why, yes," said Jon Smiff. "You can turn the wireless off for a bit." "Ah," said the warder. "Now you're asking just the one thing I can't do. That wireless goes on all the time." "Always?" "Always."

"Fancy that!" said Jon Smiff. "Well, I suppose I'll get used to it. With the announcers, and the aunties, and the speakers, and the singers I'll never be lonely, will I?" "That's right!" said the warder brightly. "That's why you're here." "That's why I'm here?"

"That's right," repeated the warder. And with a compassionate look he asked kindly: "Will you have thick soup for dinner, or clear?" It occurred to Jon Smiff after dinner that night, that the Broadcasting Board had recently commenced a 24hour radio service. The Insomnia Association had petitioned that there should be an all-night service for the benefit of night-workers and those unable to sleep. The board had of course consented to the popular request. So the radio would never stop. For 183 days; for six months, it would never stop. However, he had no doubt that he would soon get used to it, and be able to sleep through it, though it did go on all night. So at 10 o'clock he went to bed, when the classical programme started. He thought he would be able to sleep through that, all right. But just as he was dozing off, he noticed a peculiar thing about the programme, and the peculiarity kept him awake. The announcer, before putting on a record, would say that it was a piano solo played by such and such an artist; but he would cunningly withhold the name of the composition played; and then when he was announcing the next record, he would give the name of the composition and the composer, but conceal the identity of the singer; next he would admit that the listener was to hear a piano concerto, but t'he composer and the player of the concerto would not be announced until the record was over. This game of guess-as-guess-can kept Jon Smiff in a state of suspense; he would doze through the record, only to wake as soon as the announcer's voice started. He could not sleep . . . the classical programmes lasted all night, the idea of the board being that less people would be offended by good music if it was only just put on at night. The classical programme filled the cell of Jon Smiff next night . . . and the next . . . and the next. . . . At midnight on the fifth night Jon Smiff beat wildly on the door of his cell; the warder came, mildly enquiring. Jon Smiff was weeping. "They're playing with me like a cat with a mouse!" he cried wildly. "Who are?" enquired the warder. "Voices!" shrieked the prisoner, pointing at the ceiling. "Is it Gauber, or is it Tigli? Is it Bach, or it is Handel?" And he began to batter his head against the wall. "Come, come," said the warder. "There are'nt any voices. It's only the wireless." Jon Smiff stopped banging his head on the wall, and seemed to grow calmer. "That's right," he said. "That's right. It's only the wireless." "There's always the bottle of poison in the bathroom, you know," said the warder. "You can always take it if the programmes are too much. They tell me it's quite painless." "The bottle of poison?" sobbed Jon Smiff. "In the cupboard, it is. A little blue bottle. It's part of the celi equipment, as you might say." "I. don't want your rotten said the prisoner, weeping again. The warder gave him a handerchief to wipe his eyes with, promised him

PROGRAMMES AND COMMENT

oysters for his t breakfast, and went away with a grave face. He made his report to the Prison Governor the next morning.

"This one ain't standing it so well," he said. "It's them announcers again, announcing the records, that seems to get worst on his nerves. What he'll be like when he forgets them and begins to notice the children's hour, I wouldn't like to say. I don't think as it's a Christian way of executing a murderer, sir, that I don't." "Our business," said the Governor sternly, "is to carry out the sentence of the law. We must not question the humanity of it. Besides which, it's quite in accordance with sound economics for the Department; of Justice to take every advantage of the facilities offered by a fellow department like the Broadcasting Board, for the punishment of delinquents." "My heart bleeds for the poor prisoners, sir, murderers though they be," said the warder, sadly. "Besides, they get so noisy, sir, when they get to noticing the jazz crooners." » • • Jon Smiff did notice the jazz crooners, and as the warder said, he became very noisy. He also noticed the radio plays. "You didn't ought to let the plays get you down," said the warder, chidingly. "But it's the strain and suspense" moaned the twitching Jon Smiff "Every time a play comes on I listen to the title and I hope there won't bo a diamond necklace in it—but there always is." The warder shook his head sympathetically, but, "you know the law," lie said. "I can't do anything to hr-Ip you. The board likes plays about the diamond necklace." Jon Smiff began to lose weight. He was heard stamping round his cell and shouting to drown the strains of 'Sweetheart Darling." He could not take his food. In vain the warder tempted him with perfectly-cooked dishes made in accordance with radio recipes. He begged for alcohol. The warder said it was against the regulations, and brought him a small blue bottle on a truy. "What's that?" asked Jon Smiff. "Poison," said the warder. "I asked for whisky." "You can't have whisky. I just brought you the poison because 1 thought you might be feeling like taking it soon." "I don't want poison!" cried Jon Smiff, throwing himself on his knees. "But if only you could switch me over to the Duncdin station! Must I always listen to Christchurch? Is that part of my punishment?"' "I'm airaid so," said the warder. "You see, you murdered Mrs Smiff in Christchurch." The prisoner threw himself panting on the bed with his hands pressed over his ears. Overhead the loud-speaker blared forth the voice of little Lucy Somebody, aged 10, reciting a verso to all the other little boys and girls of radio land. "I don't like to hasten any man's end," said the warder to himself. "But it seems only humane to try and shorten the agony." He went to the bed, and, bending, whispered in Jon Smiff's ear: "It's against the regulations, but I'm going to do it. I'm going to switch you over to Dunedin for to-night. There's a Theme Programme from there!" Joq Smiff tittered a hoarse cry and sprang up, white and trembling, like a man who had been stabbed from behind. . . . The governor of the prison shrugged his shoulders when the warder reported to him. "So he took the poison after all?" he said. "Whicn was the actual item? I have to report it for statistical purposes." "The Theme Programme did it," replied the warder. "I watched him through the observation hole. Oh, sir, it was horrid. He scribbled a note, and then he crawled through to the bathroom and swallowed the stuff in one gulp. Here's what he wrote, sir," The gcvernor read the few hastilyscribbled lines. "Why can't they hang a man decently? Theme programmes are cruel. They talked about a tribe of Indians who could split a pea at 30 yards with a bow and arrow, and then they played 'Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep.' Why? Why did they? I keep asking myself: Why? Why? Why? . . . The cell is going round and round, so now we will play Annie Laurie. . . . My mind is going. Poison is better. Good-bye!" "Theme programmes . . ." said the governor thoughtfully. "D"ye know, Robinson, I think the old days were better. The old days, when they hanged a man in a gentlemanly fashion."

BKOADCASTING TODAY'S PROGRAMMES 3YA, CHRISTCHURCH (.720 Kilocycles) 7.0-8.30 a.m.: Breakfast session. 10.0: Devotional service. 10.15: Selected recordings. 12 noon: Lunch music. 2.0 p.m.: Selected recordings. 3.0 p.m.: Relay from English Park of a description of the Charity Cup football match, Western v. Thistle. 4.30 approx., Recordings. Sports results. 5.0: Children's hour, conducted by Aunt Pat. 6.0: Dinner music. 7.0: News and reports. 8.0: Chimes. 3YA Orchestra, conductor Mr Harold Beck, "Pro Patria" March (Lotter); "Hungarian Lutspiel" (Kela Bela). 815: Recording. Scott and Whaley Denier Warren, Kentucky Banjo Team, "The Kentucky Minstrels,, (the big radio minstrel show) (Warren). 8.23: Recordings, Raie da Costa Ensemble, "Rag Doll" (Brown). 8.26: Mr Philip Wynne-Yorke (baritone), "Her Name is Mary" (Ramsay); "Sweetheart Darlin'" (Stalhart). 8.33: Recording, Jack Bund and his Bravour Dance Orchestra, "Shooting Stars" (Kauler). 8.36: The Chatterboxes (patter sketch), "Quips and Quibbles" (arr. Ryan). 8.44: Recording, Richard Crooks, (tenor). "Just two Hearts and a Waltz Refrain" (Stolz); "You are My Heart's Delight" (Lehar). 8.50: 3YA Orchestra "The Shamrock" (Myddleton). 9.0: Weather forecast and station notices. 9.3: Mr D. W. Bain, M.A., "Tramping in the Gloucestershire Cotswolds" 9.20: 3YA Orchestra, "Dances from the Rebel Maid" (Montague Phillips), 9.29 Mr Philip WynneYorke (baritone), "Just Because You're You" (Friends); "One Minute to One" (Coots). 9.36: Recording. Howard Jacobs (saxophone), "Canzonetta" (D'Ambrosio): "Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life" (Herbert). 942: The Chatterboxes (patter sketch) "Boarders and Fowls" (arr. Ryan); song, "I'm Going Back to My Wife" (Lc Clcrq). 9.51: Recording, Gladys Moncrieff (soprano), "I Wake up Smiling" (Ahlert). 9.55: 3YA Orchestra. "Squirrel Dance" (Elliott Smith). 10.0: Sports summary. 10.10: Dance music. Alternative programme, 3YL, 1200 kilocycles. 3.0 to 4.45 p.m.: Selected recordings. Light musical programme. 7.0: Afterdinner music. 8.0: Alternative concert programme. ?,YA, WELLINGTON (570 Kilocycles) 7.0-8.30 a.m.: Breakfast session. 10.0: Chimes. Selected recordings. 10.30: Devotional service. 12 noon: Lunch music. 2.0 p.m. Light musical programme. 3.0: Relay of Rugby football match from. Atheletic Park. Announcer: , Mr Chas, lumbers, 5Qj Children'^

Hour, conducted by Uncle Jasper. 6.0: Dinner music. 7.0: News and reports. 7.40: W.E.A. session—Mr J. R. Elliott, M.A., "Personalities of Ancient Times" —(1) "Iknaton—the Heretic Pharaoh." 8.0: Chimes. 2YA Concert Orchestra (conductor. Mr Lean de Mauny) selection. "Gipsy Princess" (Kalman). 8.12: Recording: "Our Village Pahtomine—Dick Whittington." 8.20: A Piano and Will Bishop. 8.32: Recording: Layton and Johnston, duettists, "Isn't it Heavenly?" (Mayer). 8.35: 2YA Concert Orchestra, "Egyptian Intermezzo—Amina" (Lincke). 8.40: Talk—Mr T. E. Y. Seddon, "On Special Service in U.S.A." 9.0: Weather report and station notices. 9.2: One hour of old-time dance music by the 2YA Concert Orchestra. Conductor Mr Leon do Mauny. M.C. Mr Will Bishop. Valse—"Verschmahte Liebe" (Lincke). Barn Dance —"Sunbeam" (Rolfe). Lancers—"Gipsy Love" (Lehar). Valse —"Estudiantina" (Waldteufel). Twostep—"The American Belle" (Hall). Valetta—"The Valetta" (Morris). Valse —"Morning Journals" '.(Strauss). 10.0: Sporting summary. 10.10: Modern dance programme. Alternative programme, 2YC, 840 kilocycles. 3.0 p.m. Light* musical programme. 5.0: Light musical programme. 7.0: After-dinner music. 8.0: Alternative concert session. DAVENTRY, ENGLAND 6.0 p.m.: Time signal from Big Tom, St. Paul's Catherdral, London. News bulletin. 6.15: Percy Bush Light Orchestra. 6.30: In Town To-night, a topical supplement to the week's programme. 7.0: Time signal from Greenwich. Variety programme. 8.0: Time signal from Greenwich. New music. 8.20: Waterfront and Open Sea, a talk by Captain David Bone. 8.35: Fred Hartley Novelty Quintet and vocalist. 9.30: Dance music. 10.15-10.30: News bulletin. SUNDAY 3YA, CHRISTCHURCH 9.0 a.m.: Selected recordings. 11.0: Relay of morning service from St. Minian's Presbyterian Church. Preacher: Rev. John A. Allan, M.A., organist and choirmaster: Mr E. Law. 1 p.m.: Dinner music. 2.0: Selected recordings. 2.45: Talk. 3.0: Selected recordings. 5.30: Children's service, conducted by children of the Methodist Sunday Schools. 6.15: Chimes from the studio. 0.30: Relay of evening service from Kugby Street Methodist Church, Preacher: Rev. Harry S. Kings organist: Miss Clarice Bell, choirmaster: Mr W. Simpson. 8.15: Recording: Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia C-chestra, "Overture 1812." Op. 49 (Tschaikowsky). 8.31: Miss Cecily Audibert (soprano), (a) "Serenade"; <b) "Ave Maria" (with violin obbligato). by Gladys Vincent) (Gounod). 8.38: Recording: Berlin Grand Symphony Orchestra, "Military Symphony No. 100, in G Major" (Haydn): "Adagio—Allegro"; "Allegretto"; "Menuetto"; "Finale— Presto." 9.2: Weather forecast and station notices. 9.5: Miss Cecily Audibert (soprano), "Oh! Hush Thee, My Baby" (Pease); "Villanelle" Del Acqua). 9.12: Recording: Artua Schnabel (piano), and London Philharmonic Orchestra, "Concerto No. 4 in G Major, "p. 58" (Beethoven): "Allegro moderato"; "Andante con moto"; "Rondo—Vivace." 9.54: Miss Gladys Vincent (violin). "Aucassin and Nicolelte" (Krelslcr); "Valse Triste" (Sibelius); "Passepied" (Dellbes). 9.55: Recording: Columbia Symphony Orchestra, "Bridal Procession" (Grieg); "March of the Bojaren" (Halorsen). Alternative programme. 3YL, 1200 kilocycles. 3.0 p.m.: Relay from the Anglican Cathedral of the Youth Demonstration Service. 6.0 to 8.30 p.m.: Selected musical programme. 8.30: Alternative concert programme.

2YA, WELLINGTON 9 a.m.: Chimes. Selected recordings. 11.0: Relay of service from St. Peter's Anglican Church. Preacher: Rev. W. Bullock, organist and choirmaster: Mr S. B. Shortt. 1 p.m.: Dinner music. 2.0: Selected recordings. 6.0: Children's song service, conducted by Uncle William 7.0: Relay of evening service from Vivian Street Church of Christ. Preacher: Mr A. G. Saunders, B. A., organist and choirmistress: Mrs Shepherd. 8.15 (approx.): Selected recordings. 8.30. "Tristan and Isolde." (Wagner.) Recorded duinj the Bayreuth Festival 1928. Bayreuth lestival. Orchestra conducted by Kari Elmendorff. The cast: Isolde: Nanny LarsenTodsen (soprano). Brangaene: Anny Helm (soprano). Tristan: Gunnar Graarud (tenor). Kurwenal: Rudolf Bocklemann (baritone). Jungen Seemann (Young Sailor): Gustaff Rodh (tenor). King Marke: Ivar Andersen (bass). Melot: Joachim Sattler (tenor). Ein Hirt (A Shepherd); Hans Beer (tenor). Alternative programme. 2YC, 840 kilocycles, 6.0 to 8.30 p.m.: Selected musical programme. 8.30: Alternative concert programme.