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The wireless weekly : the hundred per cent Australian radio journalVol. 31 No. 15 (April 15, 1938) Browse this collection
MAN OF MYSTERY BAIRD OF TELEVISION
Interviewed by JOHN MOYLE JOHN LOGIE BAIRD.
CALLED by some the “Inventor of Television,” and by others, more appropriately, the “Father of Tele- vision,” John Logie Baird last Wednesday night delivered a paper on his life work, before the Institute of Radio Engineers of Australia. It was one of the highlights of the Radio Con- vention now being held in Sydney. Baird is at the moment, a Man of Mystery. Who but such a man could have so set the radio world on fire, when we recently read that he had sailed from England with a complete television sta- tion for erection in Sydney? What else could we think knowing just what would be the difficulties—shall we say, impossibilities?—of such a venture at the present time? What else could we think when, on arrival at Fremantle, John Logie Baird denied that he had ever authorised such a statement as appeared in the newspapers, and, in fact, denied that he had on board the Strathaird anything more potent thart a sample television receiver which he proposed to exhibit before the Institute sponsor- ing his visit? What other name can we give to this man, who has worked himself almost to a standstill on the problem of making television a practicable reality—who has seen the fruits of his labors rejected by the British Broadcasting Corporation, just as he believes he has solved the problem of televising in color? But who has no intention of giving up his eternal search for perfection, though his path from now on leads—we can only guess where? Only a few days ago I was privileged to have a talk with Baird. It gave me a new slant on a man who, until then, had been to me just someone to read about—someone to talk about—but noth- ing more. To say that I was impressed with Baird is to state the position in the wrong words. I was impressed, but more than this—l was intrigued. For instance, one might imagine him as a lean, hawk-eyed, keen-minded indivi- dual, spilling short sentences dealing with lines per inch and decibels down, while we looked on and listened with awe. Whether he ever was such a man, I don’t know, but I don’t think he was Baird to-day is a quiet Scottish gentle- man, with a burr in his speech that will delight his hearers who know their Scotch heather. He has a dignity in his demeanor, which is the dignity of in- tellect. More than this—it is a dignity that is possessed by such men, who at the same time have vision, and whose dreams mark them out from other men. When Baird talks to you, he looks you straight in the eye. I don’t believe that he really sees you—you are for the mo- ment something on which he can focus his gaze while he thinks—he doesn’t tell you all he thinks, unless he knows you will understand him. His eyes are blue, rather a pale blue, and they tell you much more about him than even his screwed-up little smile, that comes rarely, but which is valuable because of that. Baird is a little bit tired of being the centre of such a storm which evidently he had no wish to create. “Mr. Baird,” were my first words, “I expect that you have been asked all the questions there are to ask, by all the pressmen there are to ask them?” He looked at me for a moment, and then that smile appeared. “I sincerely hope so,” was his reply, in broad Scotch. I wish you could have heard that reply. TELEVISION COST So I didn’t ask him too many ques- tions—we just sat and talked. The only time he w r as hesitant was when I men- tioned Australia. I believe that Baird knows as well as anyone that Australia at the moment can’t support television. He wouldn’t be led into the slightest definite statement on this point, but I don’t think he would deny it. H e knows too much about it. He know T s the pro- blems of finance, of the cost of receivers, of the inevitable scrapping when new ideas are introduced. But on one point he has set his faith. Television one day must be as much part of our lives as radio.
“In the beginning,” he said, “Radio men were bitterly opposed to television. They did all they could do to suppress it. Now they are beginning to realise that television is not an enemy of radio, but a friend.” “Do you think that the estimate—the optimistic estimate—of 9000 English tele- vision sets, remembering the 8 h million licences in England, is a good reponse?” I asked. "I think it is a very poor response," said Baird. "But I think that the rea- sons for this are largely overcome now. I think from this date the increase in receivers will be very much more rapid. Everything must have its initial period of opposition and growth—anything new —and television has now passed through this period.”
“Do you think that the wavelength of 7 metres now used for television will be increased or decreased?” SHORTER WAVELENGTHS ‘‘l think it will if anything be de- creased,” he said. And we talked of the problems that go with these very low wavelengths, of their limited range, and of their essential use to accommodate the very wide band of frequencies tele- vision demands. I told him of the work that amateurs in Australia have been doing on these very low wavelengths. I told him how I myself had transmitted such signals contrary to expectations right over the Blue Mountains, how Australian signals had been reported across the world in Wales, and how I had seen myself tele- vised in Sydney five years ago, in the home of an amateur experimenter. Baird’s interest was intense—he knows those trials and tribulations of the ama- teur experimenter, who puts his heart into the job for the love of the achieve- ment. ‘‘lt is a pity that the modern tele- vision transmitter and receiver are so complicated,” he said, ‘‘and that this makes it rather hard for the experi- menter to do very much at present, be- cause of this and of the expense. In the old days of the 30 line transmis- sions, there was a wonderful opportunity for all kinds of fun which the experi- menter could have for very little out- lay. Even to-day, there seems no rea- son why the experimenter and the amateur should not have just as much fun as we did in the old days, when the 30 line transmissions were so won- derful.” As I listened to his recital of the “fun” he had in those days, I could not but envy him a little, his fun, and in the same moment, honor his achieve- ment. I asked him, before I left, to tell me of his plans for the future. But of these Baird would not speak. Maybe he doesn’t quite know. But of one thing I am certain, he will be working at his problems with the same flame of en- thusiasm as urged him to his early triumphs, the same spirit that was the moving force behind that first signal across the Atlantic. I left him as I found him—a Man of Mystery.
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