How radio waves linked Čapek with Einstein and a Communist anthem with British pop (7)
From Čapek and Einstein to Protectorate-era hockey and OMD. Dive into the 90-year history of international broadcasting that shaped the image of Czechoslovakia around the world and became the voice of hope, art and political propaganda.
It was Christmas Eve 1937 when writer Karel Čapek and inventor František Křižík spoke over the airwaves. Their words travelled across the ocean to Professor Albert Einstein. These were the pioneering beginnings of the shortwave station that was the predecessor of today’s Radio Prague International. Over the course of the turbulent 20th century, international broadcasting carried not only communist propaganda, but also witnessed the birth of the legendary Hurvínek puppet and became an unexpected source of inspiration for Western popular music.
It was a grand beginning. “Professor Einstein, I am truly pleased that today, on behalf of Czechoslovak science and technology, I can address you directly with words of greeting as a representative of modern science,” František Křižík addressed the famous physicist directly from the Prague studio. But technical limitations took their toll, and the studio was forced to announce that, because of storms over the ocean, its call to America had been in vain. Einstein nevertheless eventually replied by telegram.
Karel Čapek’s appeal to the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore also generated a powerful response. The recording of this broadcast is now absolutely unique, as it is the only surviving audio record of the writer’s voice. “I hear you, Tagore, harmonious voice of the East, we greet you at your Santiniketan, we greet you from Czechoslovakia,” Karel Čapek said to his fellow writer.
A battle for the nation’s soul amid historic upheaval
In September 1938, just moments before the signing of the Munich Agreement, another message from Čapek was directed to Czechoslovak compatriots in the United States. He did not read it himself, however; announcer Ivan Jelínek stood in for him. “It is not only a struggle for our soil, it is also a struggle for our soul. For the soul of each one of us. Protect your soul during these terrible days of trial,” came the chilling words over the airwaves.
The station did not forget the writer’s extraordinary legacy even years later. In 1962, his wife Olga Scheinpflugová recalled his dedication to his craft. “He was the most conscientious of writers; he knew that imagination and inspiration were not enough, and therefore everything else was work,” she stressed, adding that her husband regarded dipping his pen into an inkwell as a form of mechanical relaxation.
But in difficult times, radio also lived through sport. In 1938, it brought listeners the atmosphere of the Ice Hockey World Championship directly from Czechoslovakia. “One older player told me that when he took part in the World Championship for the first time, he did not know what kind of protective equipment to use, so he waited to see what the others would put on,” a contemporary English-language report said, painting a humorous picture of the early days of hockey. The Czechoslovak team eventually defeated Germany in the battle for bronze; German athletes were already taking to the ice in jerseys bearing swastikas.
Soon afterwards, the Wehrmacht marched into Prague and the scope of broadcasting narrowed. At Easter 1939, journalist František Kocourek spoke from the Protectorate to Czechoslovak compatriots in the United States. “That is why I would like to tell you that we experienced all of this as the strangest, most incredible war,” he said, describing the nation’s feelings. Kocourek’s defiance earned him an immediate ban on his work and death in a concentration camp. Broadcasting fell completely silent in 1944. Before that, poet Konstantin Biebl managed to leave behind a poetic memory. “My father used to be a doctor in Slavětín near Louny. In his free time he wrote or painted,” he recalled, remembering his idyllic childhood.
In the grip of ideology and pure art
Post-war developments changed the station’s direction and turned Radio Prague into a powerful voice of communism. Prominent figures and revolutionaries such as cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin and Ernesto Guevara took turns at its microphones. Even invited Western intellectuals made no secret of their ideological enthusiasm. “I can see Prague growing, and in great harmony with the landscape. I can see housing and new factories being built in every corner,” the famous French cartoonist and member of the French Communist Party Jean Effel said approvingly in May 1960. Two years later, the radio hosted the committed left-wing writer Louis Aragon in Karlovy Vary.
Despite the layers of propaganda, culture was also regularly given airtime. Esperanto broadcasts were a great success. Actor Karel Höger recorded an introduction to the opera Rusalka (under the title Najadó) in the language and later spoke affectionately to listeners in Czech.
“I think I will be far from alone in saying that my favourite place is the one where I was born. Brno, Královo Pole. Fifty years ago. A suburb,” he said in 1960, expressing his love for his homeland. Later, he added a poetic tribute to the theatre:
“A reflection of light passed over the face of Aleš’s hero, and it was as if he smiled kindly at me.”
One of the founders of Czech animated film, Jiří Trnka, also accepted an invitation to appear on air. In 1960, he spoke humbly about the surprising audience response to his film A Midsummer Night’s Dream:
“Above all, I received a great many letters from the audience, which had never happened with my films before.”
From animated wood to British synthesizers
Alongside great animated art, 1962 also brought the revived wooden figure from Plzeň to the airwaves. Jiřina Skupová gave listeners a detailed account of the historic moment in 1926 when the lonely Josef Spejbl unexpectedly got a son. “Yes, this was undoubtedly Spejbl’s offspring. Hurvínek was born,” she recalled, describing the birth of the famous puppet.
As the station’s guests constantly changed, so too did the iconic musical signature that introduced its broadcasts. While First Republic-era broadcasts opened with the majestic sound of Dvořák symphony From the New World – to which Radio Prague International returned after an enormous historical arc – the communist era was accompanied for decades by the building anthem Kupředu levá (Forward, Left).
It was precisely this distinctive communist fanfare that, in a complete paradox, became permanently etched into the history of popular music. “I had a shortwave radio and I recorded propaganda radio stations from Eastern Europe. One of them was the broadcast from Czechoslovakia,” Andy McCluskey, founder of the British electronic legends OMD, told Czech Radio. The band was so fascinated by Eastern European broadcasting that it incorporated Radio Prague’s signature tune directly into the opening of its cult album Dazzle Ships.
One of the tracks on the album even bears the literal English title of a former Czechoslovak programme, “Music for Your Tape Recorder,” and the recording features the voice of Helena Markusová, a former Radio Prague editor. That the beeping fanfare still has enormous power in a modern musical setting was demonstrated by OMD recently, when they performed the signature tune live accompanied by a large ensemble of Liverpool symphony musicians.
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