Situated above the first door on Henry Street, the sign – “Radio Éireann” – marked the side entrance to the GPO. On an ordinary Monday, the 10th of February 1964, I embarked on my first stroll through that door, making my way to the third floor by elevator. I had been called in for a voice test, for which I had prepared a prototype programme. The try-out went well, landing me a six-week stint to host a music series named “Then and Now”. The show, which was set to air every Sunday at 11pm starting from 5th July, juxtaposed old and new tracks from the same artist. The programme got off to a good start with the signature tune – “This Could Be the Start of Something Big”, and I was just an 18-year-old lad.
For most of its life, Radio Éireann used to go on air only during evening hours. Towards the end of the 1950s, however, it amplified its broadcasting hours to cover the mornings and lunchtime. This expansion was markedly associated with the inclusion of sponsored programmes. By the Sixties, the management had realised the popularity of pop music and thus initiated Ireland’s Top Ten, existing alongside other favourites such as Hospitals Requests, Question Time, Take the Floor, and the sponsored drama – The Kennedys of Castleross.
Radio Éireann has progressed over decades with additions of personnel and amenities. By 1937, it had evolved into the new Radio Éireann, whilst remaining under the administration of the Department of Posts and Telegraphs. The long, white-tiled corridor, dotted with frosted glass and stretching over a 100 metres, housed various offices. This corridor, parallel to Henry Street on the third floor, earned the nickname “the longest row of lavatories in the world” from the conductor Sir John Barbirolli, who said this during an interview session with Eamonn Andrews in these studios.
For a significant period, the broadcasting times of this radio station were exclusive to evenings. However, they broadened their broadcast times to include mornings and lunchtimes towards the end of the 1950s by incorporating sponsored programming. In the subsequent decade, the management understood the demand for popular music and introduced Ireland’s Top Ten alongside existing favourite shows such as Hospitals Requests, Question Time, Take The Floor, and a sponsored soap opera called The Kennedys of Castleross.
Whilst employed in the insurance industry, I had heard that Radio Éireann occasionally hired back-up continuity announcers. Consequently, I reached out to Denis Meehan, who was leading the announcing division, to inquire about potential opportunities for an audition. A subsequent assessment led to an invitation to participate in the next intensive, six-week training course due to commence on 14th June 1965. The course was facilitated by Denis Meehan, his sidekick, Brigid Kilfeather, and Terry Wogan, an ex-banker then holding the position of the chief announcer.
Denis frequently underscored the importance of maintaining respect for our listeners by not presuming them to lack knowledge while being careful not to insult their intelligence.
At the conclusion of the six weeks, I was offered the role of a continuity announcer. On the morning of my first shift, Terry was present to guide me with my debut live announcement in order to ensure its smooth execution. This involved a rather amusing initiation – he poured a jug of water over my head just as I was about to start.
Despite my initial reluctance, Terry later escorted me to the Farmers Forum studio where I was to read the Cattle Market Report. Just as I was about to go live on mic, he humorously reminded me to avoid mispronunciation by saying, “And recall it’s about obese cattle, not the inappropriate term. Over to you.”
Initially joining as a freelancer, I later secured a permanent position as an announcer and got to work with wonderful colleagues in the division, including Mike Murphy, Lorna Madigan, John Skehan, Maurice O’Doherty, Valerie McGovern, Una Sheehy, and subsequently, Pat Kenny. I had the privilege to associate with Gay Byrne, Larry Gogan, Joe Linnane, and a large variety of actors, musicians, writers and poets. I viewed it as an intellectual hub with a strong artistic vibe that resonated with a saying by Henry David Thoreau – “To influence a day’s quality, that’s the superior form of all arts”.
I have a mixed bag of delightful and unusual memories from the GPO, some dating back to 1968 when I was on a 12-hour constant duty covering Robert Kennedy’s funeral – a record achievement at the time. I also remember a particular evening when the host of Céilí House was incapacitated, and I had to hurry through the lengthy corridor, take the lift down, and ascend to O’Connell Hall (situated opposite the Gresham Hotel) to host the show.
Una Sheehy shared a slightly awkward incident with me. One Sunday, she passed over the baton to Michael O’Hehir for a live commentary from Croke Park. Noticing a prolonged silence from Michael after reducing the volume on her monitor, she apologised for a technical glitch and switched to a record. Later, she realised the silence was intentional – a minute’s silence required by the stadium’s public address following the demise of President Kennedy.
The initial months of the Gay Byrne Hour in 1973 unfolded in Henry Street before transitioning to the Montrose Radio Centre. A notable day was Monday, November 8th, 1976, when Mike Murphy, myself, and other colleagues listened closely outside the continuity studio while Ray Lynott pronounced the concluding announcement, marking the end of an era – the GPO had fallen silent.