RTÉ radio at 100
Brendan Balfe on a century of Irish broadcasting
On January 1st, 1926, Irish broadcasting began, as Douglas Hyde
later to become first president of the Republic of Ireland,opened the radio
station 2RN, located over a small post office on Little Denmark Street in
Dublin. (It's now part of the site of the Ilac Shopping Centre.)
The station was audible over a 30km radius, with many thousands of
listeners, although the department of posts and telegraphs suspected there
were many more sets than the number of licences sold. An Irish tradition
that has continued.
The first director was Seamus Clandillon, a civil servant who, being a
renowned traditional singer, would oblige with a few bars of a song if a
programme under-ran. His wife, Máighréad Ní Annagáin, likewise sang on
air,so often that she was dubbed Máighréad Ní On Again.
Seamus instituted a Station Orchestra, a grandiose title for what became
known as a céilí band. The following year, the Cork station 6CK opened,but
not for long. It closed three years later, with the promise of a new
high-powered transmitter to cover the country.
Meanwhile, in October 1928, the GPO on the newly named O'Connell Street had
been virtually rebuilt after the shelling and fires of 1916, so the small
radio staff moved 100 metres down Henry Street into new studios on the top
floor of the impressive building. Modest at first, with a small talks studio
and a larger one for musicians and performers, the GPO became the home of
Irish radio for the next 48 years.
In 1932, Ireland made its mark internationally when the new high-powered
transmitter came on the air with a spectacular: the Eucharistic Congress in
Dublin, viewed by many as Éamon de Valera's trailer for a new Ireland.
The station appeared on some wireless sets as Radio Athlone. Six years later
the new Irish Constitution was passed and the new director of radio, TJ
Kiernan, renamed the station Radio Éireann. (Kiernan, like his predecessor,
was also married to a ballad singer, Delia Murphy.)
And what of the programmes? They had started in the 1920s as a sort of
Edwardian musical evening, with polite talks about visits to Rangoon and
refined songs about Moonlight on the Ganges. Under Kiernan, though,
programmes had become more inventive, ingenious and sometimes positively
surreal,golf and swimming lessons, the opening of an art exhibition at the
Royal Hibernian Academy and dancing lessons for schoolchildren.
During the war years, news bulletins were notable for their neutral and
impartial reports covering both sides of the conflict: they might report
that the British had claimed severe German losses at sea and follow with a
report that the German navy had claimed that they won decisively.
Radio's big changes came after the war, in 1947, when the station, with the
authority of the department of posts and telegraphs, acquired a symphony
orchestra, a light orchestra, a choir and a permanent repertory company of
actors.
It was a remarkable artistic achievement, as well as a social one.
Musicians and actors had always been worried freelance performers, but now
they had regular and permanent jobs, with the bonus that when applying for
motor insurance they could list their occupation as civil servant.
By the 1950s the studios were extended: a new studio on the fourth floor,
mainly for sponsored programmes and three along the front of the GPO,
including a new drama suite. The studios were connected by a corridor about
100 metres long, with white tiles and frosted glass, the British conductor
John Barbirolli famously described as "the longest row of lavatories in the
world".
The place was full of officers: talks officer, sponsored officer, balance
and control officers.
This is the place I entered in 1964. I had written a letter that was a
little cheeky, asking the head of music, Kevin Roche, for an audition. I got
one and made my first broadcast on July 5th, with a music series called Then
and Now. I was 18 and thus began my happy life as a broadcaster.
My career was coloured by many fortuitous events and unexpected
opportunities. Shortly after my radio debut, I was asked by Harry Thuillier
to write scripts for his sponsored programmes, including one he presented on
Saturday nights at 11pm, sponsored by Urney Chocolates.
The advertising agency involved also asked me to come up with a proposal for
a new lunchtime programme.
With help from a colleague, we did so and the sponsor agreed to the new
format, but only if we got Gay Byrne to present. So, at 19 years of age, I
rang Gay and offered him the programme. He accepted and I worked with him
for many years after, producing many of his sponsored programmes.
At 16 years of age, I was at the first Late Late Show and got Gay's
autograph. Some years In the meantime, in 1965, I had become a continuity
announcer, under the tutelage of Denis Meehan and Terry Wogan.
Always known as Henry Street, the location was a combination of university,
arts club and training centre. The atmosphere was one of encouragement,
creativity and freedom. Henry Street had always been a sort of refuge for
artists, musicians and eccentrics and we mixed with pop stars, poets and
public personalities. We respected our audience and always did our best to
serve them by upholding standards.
It was invaluable experience. Over one weekend in the 1960s I presented
Céilí House, the Live Symphony Concert and Ireland's Top Ten. By the 1970s I
had left the announcing section and covered a huge range of
programmes,features, documentaries, comedy, musicals, interviews,
television, stage shows,had opened Radio 2 and had left the familiar
surroundings of Henry Street for the new Radio Centre at Montrose
(originally a home of Marconi's mother). The last announcement from the GPO
was made by Ray Lynott on Monday November 8th, 1976.
Before the move, the story goes, a radio operative went out to the Montrose
campus to see the new radio building being completed. He talked to a
colleague from TV and asked for a tour. His guide pointed out the Television
Centre and then the Administration Building. The radio man asked what
happened in each.
"Well," his colleague replied, "in one there are about 200 people trying to
make exciting, innovative and groundbreaking television programmes. And in
the other there's about 1,000 people trying to stop them."
It was 1975 and I was presenting Pop Call. It was broadcast live on RTÉ
radio at 11pm on Wednesday nights to respond to telephone requests from
listeners. Other nights were occupied by recorded sponsored programmes.
A colleague mentioned he had been going through old copies of the RTÉ Guide
and it seemed that the following Wednesday would mark the 10th anniversary
of the programme.
Thinking the occasion should be marked, I went to the archives and got the
log of records played on the first night, then invited Val Joyce, the first
compere (presenters hadn't been invented yet) to come in and host the
programme with me.
I rang the Irish Independent and suggested they send a photographer. The
following morning there was a picture of the two of us in the paper, with
the caption "DJs celebrate 10 years of Pop Call".
RTÉ's radio editorial board met regularly on a Thursday morning and, seeing
the photo, the general cry was "Is that shaggin' thing still on the air? I
thought we got rid of it years ago." And so the 10th-birthday edition of Pop
Call was also the last edition of Pop Call, proving, in RTÉ at least, it
doesn't always pay to draw attention to anniversaries.
Happy anniversary, RTÉ.
https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/tv-radio/2026/01/01/rte-radio-at-100-brendan-balfe-on-a-century-of-irish-broadcasting/
Colin Howard, living in Southern England, is hoping you and your family,
acquaintances and friends have so far been able to enjoy a pleasant Festive
holiday and will follow with a peaceful, prosperous and happy 2026.