A MEMORABLE EVENT

Evening Post, Volume CXIX, Issue 32, 7 February 1935, Page 21

A MEMORABLE EVENT

THE CHRISTMAS BROADCAST

(Written for "The Post" by Nelle M.

Scanlan.)

LONDON, .December 26.

Soon after 1 o'clock yesterday, we i Were making a round-about journey to 1 Broadcast. House, as only a. skeleton service of buses was running, but wev got There just in time for the Empire broadcast,-and here, in,one.of the btudios, under expert supervision, you get the best reception that is possible. i'or an hour we sat there, listening to that magic, that miracle, that has enabled us to hear "voices from every corner of the, world.- Some of it was marred by atmospherics, and New Zealand, most remote of all, suffered a little more than the others, though India had trouble also. The moments that stand out most sharply were the Bells of Bethlehem, the Man of Aran, the old shepherd in the Cotswold, and the King. It was the simple, quiet, intimate friendly voices that struck the •true Christmas note. ,There was an emotional break in the King's voice' as he spoke of anxious years of his long reign,l and the warm, fatherly quality in his simple words, so earnest, so effective, that crowned and closed this hour. When I heard that blur of music, the bells of the Wellington Memorial Carillon, and the voice of a whaler from Tory Channel, near Picton, indistinct though they were, I make the frank admission that big tears rolled down my face like a soppy baby. It was a voice from home, and'this was Christmas Day. I shall never forget.the rich accent and proud simplicity of that-Man of Arari, who spoke of their simplelhomes on that island off the Irish coast, and the lovely "voice of the woman who sang, in Irish,: a lullaby to .the Christ Child. And the simple-old shepherd from the Cotswold, with his rare andrugged voice, utterly unselfconscious. He is . old now, arid, has never seen London or the sea, though.England is so small a country. He:, was born in the Cotswold, where his father was a shepherd before him. - He earned 10s a week and brought up eleven children, and they are all living still, though the speaker, Handy, said he was . the. only, one ' left in the Cotswold".' ■-■■ ■■■■■ ; & "I have a toother in New Zealand, and if he be listening to I today, I wish he would write and tell I." I hope he will. ' It was the background of sound which gave realism to the most effective moments of this broadcast. The moo-ing of cattle, the tramp of their : feet, and the crack of whips made a vivid mental picture of Queensland; the surge of the sea and its'noisy, cheerful accompaniment of voices brought a flash of a Sydney beach. It was not the speaker, but the beating-of drums and. the weird Af- , rican native music that transported us to-South Africa, and the singing ' of the lumberjacks in Canada was the sharpest note from that Dominion. Broadcasting, is' yet young, and these programmes are still experimental, and through experience alone will it be possible to discover on what lines they can best be.'developed. : There is no . doubt that, the simple people are most succcessful as speakers, and. sounds more telling than words in conjuring a vision of some unknown land. The ' least successful items were the cold, matter-of-fact attempts to create a ' picture through the medium of words i alone. The Melbourne gardener did ' not show me his flowers; the tea- ' planter in Ceylon, the wine-grower in \ South Africa, and the dairy farmer in New Zealand could not re-create '■ the scene around them for the scattered millions. It'was marvellous to hear them, and it may seem ungracious and ungrateful to say so, but their words were too much a statement of facts, and lacked that glowing spontaneity which characterised the simpler t?eoples. And the, conversational items; a dry aues'tion-and answer business, fell coldly on the ear compared i with the broad, rich accents of the shepherd, the fisherman, and the fine sincerity of the King. When so" many pernle participate in these Empire broadcasts, so many ' types from so many countries, there must always be good, better, and best, , But in this brief. and priceless hour at Christmas, when an audience, unparalleled,, is listening, when emo- , tion is keyed by this universal Christmas festival, hearts are touched, memories stirred, sympathies awakened, and j it is the surge of ,the 'sea, the every- j day voice of cattle, the music of the 1 people, and the warm, human quali- , ties that strike the hanpiest note in , this family reunion on, Christmas Day. • And when, at' the end, we stood in ■ the studio for the great chorus of "God ! Save the Kine." sung by England, by ; Canada, by Africa, by .Australia, the chorus swelling, growing faint,- ..over- ' terming as it swept from one corner of the, Empire to the other, it was a , glorious climax, and I came out into , the prey of a T.onrlon winter's Christ- ] mas Day, a little shaken. !