The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND MONDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1928 SCARE-MONGERING

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 497, 29 October 1928, Page 8

The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND MONDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1928 SCARE-MONGERING

FAILURE of the Arapuni dam would involve a national calamity of such dimensions as to place it far beyond any question of party polities. Therefore the best that we can hope concerning the alarmist statement issued by Mr. R. W. Holmes, a former chief engineer of the Public Works Department, is that it was issued spontaneously and without any concern for the political conflict of the day. Issued simply as a weapon for political use; it would at once assume an evil shape. Issued otherwise, it may at least .be given the credit usually conceded to an honest expression of opinion, even though the moment and method seem peculiarly chosen, and the form of expression unwarrantably extravagant. Construction work of such magnitude as the Arapuni contract is always attended by difficulties and dangers. Every great engineering achievement carries the raw implication of a terrible potential peril. The failure of a bridge, the collapse of a skyseraper, the bursting of a reservoir—any of these catastrophes may spell appalling loss of life. The risk would not be worth while unless each job were backed, as it is in all but extremely rare instances, by the integrity and professional pride of designers and builders. Into the masses of concrete and steel on which so. much depends is built by the very soul of the engineer in charge, though he, in his blunt and matter-of-fact manner, would be the last to look at it in that way. He might prefer to call it a question of personal credit. Each piece of faithful work is another handsome testimonial. It appears that Air. Holmes, in making a statement that can only cause uneasiness unless the full facts are examined, has paid scant respect to the principles on which the greatness of the engineering profession has been founded. He recks not of the wide safety margin—usually double or treble the total stresses—that is allowed by every conscientious engineer. He apparently ignores the whole fundamental question of professional ethics. It is a gross reflection on the engineers of the Public Works Department to suggest that they permitted concern for their bread and butter to blind their eyes and blunt their consciences. It is of interest to note in passing that the Inner Harbour scheme at Napier, which Mr. Holmes advocated last year, was rejected by a Royal Commission. In the case of Arapuni, Mr. Holmes has committed himself to the statement that the trial drives made on the site of the dam were not carried right under the river-bed. We believe this to be incorrect—that the whole neighbourhood was, in fact, honeycombed with drives. The engineering staff: of Armstrong, Whitworth, Ltd., never questioned the thoroughness with which the Government had investigated this part of the scheme, and they regarded the finished work as one of the greatest triumphs in the history of their firm. Every yard of concrete poured from the mixers was scrutinised by Public Works Department supervisors, who insisted on observance of the strict letter of the specifications, an insistence that contrasts sharply with the laxity shown in the building of the St. Francis dam, California, where the calamitous failure of the structure was traced to “doctored” concrete and corruption in municipal politics. It may be questionable whether the Government showed wisdom in develojnng Arapuni in preference to other propositions, such as Waikaremoana, and it is beyond argument that unexpected difficulties have been encountered. But it is wrong and unfair to suggest, at this late stage, that the engineers responsible did not approach their task with a proper regard for the security of life and property. We believe they acted and worked with a full sense of responsibility. THE TALKING FILM THE first talking film shown in London, a thriller by Mr. Edgar Wallace, met with a mixed reception, the gen'eral opinion being that the popularity of the silent picture will not suffer diminution. Mr. John Drinkwater is of opinion that the “talkie” is of great potential value, and his wife, Miss Daisy Kennedy, the violinist, says that the instrumental reproduction is the best she has yet heard, but the vocal effects are not so good. Mr. Cosmo Gordon Hamilton, dramatist, believes that there is no need for cinema actors to run agitatedly to and fro, “for the most perfect talkies will never kill the silent film.” When the novelty has worn off they will be reduced to the status of news films and “comics”; they will report the brief remarks of some famous person or record a son® or a chorus. Who wants to listen to feet, traffic, shrieks, bangs, curses, the excruciating voices of cowboys and the mellifluous notes of bathing beauties? Indeed, who? But Mr. Hamilton is out-talking the “talkies” without letting them state a case. An invention which perfectly reproduces sound synchronised with visible action is not to be as easily dismissed as that and, of course," if it can be perfected, not a whole lorryload of dramatists can wave it aside. But there are admitted difficulties in the way. The temptation to reproduce incidental music will be irresistible, and we shall go * to a “talkie” to be plagued by louder door slams, more startling pistol shots and backfires, creakier boots, shriller winds, more frightful telephone bells and farmyard noises, and more desolate lappings of lake-water than usually endanger comfort and sanity. Lastly, the silent drama is international in appeal—with reservations, of course. Actors from the Bowery, from Berlin, from Boston and from Birmingham can combine to please the world when they are mute; but how can the talkies harmonise the dialects of Babel ?