Signal that launched 10,000 words

On the 75th anniversary of his death, we recall the father of modern comm unication, writes Jonathan deBurca Butler

THE boreen leading to the site of the old Marconi wireless station in Derrygimla, Co Galway, is full of potholes. Four kilometres south of Clifden, the station was destroyed during the Civil War. There is little left of it bar concrete foundations covered in sheep dung, an d the odd lonely wall. A strange, egg-shaped monument commemorating Alcock and Brown’s histori crash-landing nearby, in 1919, and the bog, which as far as the e n see, add to the eeriness.

The site’s pitiful state belies its former status as the first transatlantic wireless station in Europe. When the first messages were sent and received here on Oct 17 1907, the world’s media went into a frenzy. “Wireless joins two worlds”, wrote The New York Times, which reported 10,000 words were exchanged across the Atlantic that day. A week later, The Sydney Daily Post’s correspondents tested the system and concluded that the “Marconi over-ocean wireless system proved entirely successful.” Key to that success was the station’s location. “Marconi required a site large enough to accommodate the great antenna system needed to direct a signal across the Atlantic,” says local historian and author, Kathleen Villiers-Tuthill. “He began searching for a site along the west coast of Ireland, in 1905, and eventually settled on Derrygimla, because it offered a clear path to the Atlantic for the aerials, it had a plentiful supply of fresh water, and cheap turf for the boilers, and the nearby town, Clifden, was linked by rail and telegraph cable to Galway.”

Guglielmo Marconi’s connections to Ireland were strong. He was born in Bologna in 1874 to his Italian father, Giuseppe, and Irish mother, Annie Jameson.

Annie’s uncles had founded a famous Dublin whiskey distillery, while her own father, Andrew, had a distillery in Wexford.

From an early age, Guglielmo showed a keen interest in science and, with the encouragement of his mother, he set up a rudimentary laboratory in his father’s attic. Here, he conducted experiments in electricity.

Although electromagnetic waves were discovered by Heinrich Hertz in 1888, Marconi aimed to take Hertz’s discovery further. By his early 20s, the Italian had conducted experiments outside, with a view to testing their power over longer distances. In the summer of 1895, he transmitted a signal to a receiver 2km from his house. This success spurred him on and Marconi moved to London, where, due in no small part to his mother’s connections, he got financial backing for his project. By July, 1897, he had established The Wireless Telegraphy and Signal Company, which would later become Marconi’s Wireless Telegraphy Company. Many of its original backers were Irish merchants.

It was no surprise, therefore, that Marconi came to Dublin the following summer and used his new system to send the results of the annual Kingstown (Dun Laogharie) regatta to the offices of the Dublin Daily Express. With time and effort, the distances that Marconi’s system covered increased. By 1901, signals were sent from Poldhu, in Cornwall, to Crookhaven, in West Cork; a distance of 360km. The next, great challenge was the Atlantic, and when Marconi chose the site near Clifden as his European hub, it transformed the town.

“You cannot overestimate the importance of the Marconi station in Connemara at this time,” says Ms Villiers-Tuthill. “From the very start, the Marconi Company offered employment to large numbers. Two hundred local men were employed in the construction of the site. Once the station came into operation, local labourers were employed for unskilled work. The majority were given part-time employment, cutting and saving turf, from February to September.

“It was ideal for the small farmer and fisherman because it provided them with extra cash and saved many from emigration. Long-term, it was the company’s intention to train local men for the skilled jobs, believing that men brought in from the outside would not stay on in such a remote district. But only a few local men ever trained up.”

As Ms Villiers-Tuthill says, there was also a social aspect to the station. “The station brought a great many young eligible bachelors on to the scene and these men brought life and energy to a very isolated community,” says Ms Villiers-Tuthill.

“In later years, the women of the town would recall fondly how the Marconi men added a bit of excitement to the dances and sporting events.”

Marconi had a house of his own on the site of the station, where he stayed with his wife, Beatrice O’Brien. The couple had three children together, but they separated in 1927 and Marconi got an annulment. The Italian, who was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1909, went on to join the fascist party and by the time of his death, on Jul 20, 1937, he had become a prominent member.

As for the station, when it was blown asunder in 1922 it was beyond saving and had to be closed down. The effect on the locality was devastating.

“It was estimated, at the time, that 1,000 local people lost their livelihood as a result of the closure and the people were angry that the attack had taken place,” says Villiers-Tuthill. “The people of the area genuinely regretted the departure of the Marconi staff from the locality.

Relations between the company and the local community were always cordial and several of the staff returned to holiday here in the years that followed. Indeed, their descendants continue to do so today.”

* Kathleen Villiers-Tuthill’s new book, The Colony of Strangers, The Founding and Early History of Clifden, is out now.