THE MAN BEHIND THE VOICE

NZ Truth, Issue 1191, 27 September 1928, Page 6

THE MAN BEHIND THE VOICE

ANYONE who can say: "Good evening, everybody," and immediately be heard by forty thousand people throughout the:length of the land, would, ordinarily reouire a husky pair of lungs. Not so, Cliye Drummond, announcer at broadcasting station 2YA. Clive just nonchalantly talks to the microphone, which carries on with its incredulous job. | And if you. tKink he talks for your special benefit,'•you' may not be far wrong. Every listener is his particular friend. You sense a genial, intimate personality behind the voice reachirrg you through space. The man himself would not disappoint you. A sunny fellow, yet downright serious, about his job, arid loving it, he is on the best of terms with his huge circle of listeners. Drummond was a schoolboy m sunny Motueka when the wonders of wireless began to capture the imagination of the world. Not that it may not have been known m Shakespeare's day. Did riot : the monster, Caliban, m '"The Tempest," tell the incredulous shipwrecked sailors of the wonderful isle which was "full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, which gave delight, yet hurt not," and of a thousand twangling instruments and voices which sometimes hummed about his ears? . , r Anyhow, Clive will see to it that you get one item at a time m these modern days. From a job m the local post office, young Drummond caught the new infection of wireless. He was one of the first youthful enthusiasts selected for duty at the pioneer wireless station on^Tinakori Hill. Glad Hours for Drummond, with ear phones clamped to his head m the night watches, stretching out ever further and further for the faint signals from distant ships and stations. On watch m the absorbing early days of the Great War, he intercepted a message from the cruiser Schornhorst, which was believed to have conveyed more than a hint of danger to the Main Body and caused its recall to port. He saw active service m the N.Z. Wireless Troop, a unit which was almost completely forgotten m nomadic wanderings'about Mesopotamia. "Uncle Jasper" he is to a myriad of radio youngsters, and "Spot," his fox terrier pal, is also there m the children's houHto say his piece into the microphone. A Wireless, man m his very being, but not a slave to one idea m life, Clive is a cricketer of very fair parts. The Kilbirriie Cricket Club, knows him for a good sport and achap who plays a straight bat oh the wicket and In the wider game of life. iiiiiiiiiiim