The first thing that might strike you is the apparent irony of televising a programme celebrating the 75th anniversary of radio. But it is after all Irish radio and we have always done things in a manner that surprises. Hence the forthcoming documentary, That Old Hurdy Gurdy: Radio 75 Years On, which tells the story of the establishment of our national station, spliced with contributions from some of those who have worked for it down the years, including Terry Wogan and, of course, Gay Byrne.
The documentary's title comes, apparently, from its attempt to be politically non-biased. So keen were those running the station to keep political debate off the airwaves that politicans did not take it seriously. "How's the ould Hurdy Gurdy?" Seβn Lemass once asked. You just can't imagine Bertie Ahern or Michael Noonan casting such lofty aspersions on the national station these days, with lots of people breakfasting to the spirited exchanges between politicians and broadcasters on Morning Ireland.
The station now has all the things it didn't have in the early days, such as 24-hour broadcasting, jazz, plenty of political debate and a range of brogues and dialects on air, not just city accents. Apart from the big stories and the big names connected with the station, the documentary also tells some of the lesser-known tales of people connected with the station's early days.
Such a name is Darrell Figgis, who features early in the programme. Figgis, who was Anglo-Irish, and one of the famous bookselling family, was introduced to Roger Casement at a gathering in London's Bloomsbury. Figgis was interested in helping Casement in the fight for freedom and subsequently bought guns in Germany and went gun-running with Erskine Childers in Howth.
In 1922, he came second to Michael Collins in numbers of votes and became a member of the Republic's first cabinet. He had detractors; he was attacked and, bizarrely, had his beard cut off outside his home. As a result, Collins gave Figgis's wife, Milly, one of his pistols for her protection.
In his cabinet role, Figgis contributed several ideas to the future of the new State, and also served on the Dβil committee that planned the establishment of the first Irish radio station. What ensued destroyed Figgis's career. It was felt that the station needed to be commercially run and a recommendation was made to issue a licence to a consortium headed by English businessman Andrew Belton.
Figgis had had brief dealings with Belton and did not trust him. He spoke out against giving the licence to Belton, who then replied that he had given Figgis money for election expenses. Well, folks, you guessed it - the issue went to a tribunal (we're not as contemporary as we think these days). Figgis's career was over and, worse by far, his wife killed herself with the gun Collins had given her.
Figgis went back to London and later also took his own life. This dark episode in RT╔'s broadcasting history is narrated by Richard Pine, whose book, 2RN; The Origins of Irish Radio, in which Figgis features, is published next month by Four Courts Press.
"He was left to his own devices afterwards," Pine says forcefully. "Politics was not his forte; he was used as a front by Belton. It was tragic. He never lived to see the setting up of the station which he helped bring about."
That Old Hurdy Gurdy: Radio 75 Years On, is on RT╔1 on Tuesday at 10.05 p.m.