The revolution in broadcast technology over the last decade, combined with the way people now use mobile phones, has hastened the decline, but not yet death, of one of the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ’s most humble but useful facilities: the remote studio.
From tiny ISDN (or Post Office pre-1984) junction boxes to purpose-built radio studios, whether situated in a council office or off-site venue, or housed in a smart ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ regional centre, these remote inject points or studios have provided a welcome sight for decades, either for reporters trying to file stories in quality when radio cars were unavailable or out of signal, or down-the-line programme interviews to LBH or elsewhere. The recent closure of so many of them marks the end of an era in ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ local broadcasting. The NCA studio network in the main local radio buildings are still active, but having used many of the more remote ones in my ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ career, I wondered – ‘what stories they could they tell’.
A request for information and memories before the passage of time robs us of these stories filled my inbox with memories, part funny, part sad, but always entertaining. I uncovered gems that perhaps could only come from the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ – weird inject venues, strange studios and even stranger stories. I’ve split these into two distinct parts – firstly, the humble ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ inject points and remote studios, then for another article those larger studio and district office set-ups. This is not a comprehensive history, but hopefully this will give you a flavour of their place within the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ, and a smile from those who used them.
Patchwork quilt
It’s a stretch to say that other than the basic NCA network it’s ever been a single managed system. Over decades, a patchwork quilt of studios and inject points opened for many reasons, not just as for news or events. Local radio stations in England were the backbone of the network, with remote studios in outlying towns helping to augment their county coverage. Large counties like Cumbria, Kent, Sussex, Devon and Yorkshire had them based in geographically remote towns, usually situated in council buildings. Editors would always stress control of content and usage rested with that station and the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ. I am sure if you add up all these strange rooms, nooks, crannies and cupboards, it would be an extraordinary amount of real estate.
Not all are easily accessed. A familiar scenario was in Hampshire, where there was an NCA studio in a basement on Winchester High Street. You had to get the keys from a British Gas shop over the road, hoping it was not the town’s shopping half-day. In East Sussex, there was a remote studio at Haywards Heath, which the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ’s late cricket correspondent, Christopher Martin-Jenkins, often filed from. It had a single button to use, which often proved one button too many for a technophobe like CMJ. He was therefore excited when the new Horsham studio opened, because it was much more convenient for him, being five minutes from his house.
Some inject points were situated in very odd places indeed. Radio Lincolnshire’s Spalding studio was in the local swimming pool, in a room underneath the foot bath, and which leaked. Every few months the station’s engineer had to drive over and clear the mould off. A temporary studio was in a disused mortuary in Sandown on the Isle of Wight, set up for the week-long coverage of an attempt to rescue a man from a crumbling well. The local engineer admitted later: ‘Network paid. I got quite adept at squeezing money out of them for lines. The studio somehow became permanent. The man died.’
Window ledge broadcasts
Peter Gore, ex-³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ staffer, wrote to say: ‘My father Sydney was the engineer at the start of ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ Southampton at Southwestern House. He always told me he’d installed a broadcast point on the window ledge in a hotel room of the Globe Hotel in Cowes on the Isle of Wight. It was in a room overlooking the sea, and was simply a terminal into which the output of a broadcast could be plugged. It was used mainly for OBs during Cowes Week in the early days. I don’t know if it’s still there, and sadly my father died some years ago.’
Facilities were basic. Radio Merseyside’s remote studio in Chester used a mixer from one of the main studios made obsolete by a refurbishment. Had the engineers ‘forgot’ to send it to the redundant plant department? A weakness was that the equipment was too complex for any member of the public to self-operate, so unless the Chester producer was in situ and willing to help there was no way a local might contribute to the output. A different story though if it was a network programme. The eventual move to digital ISDN enabled direct connections to other places, but prior to that some jiggery-pluggery would have been required. Cheshire’s PR man, who knew how to work the kit, earned a lot of beer money by ‘meeting and greeting’ contributors to the Today programme, Good Morning Wales, etc. Even Radio Merseyside might have taken a cut!
There was even a remote studio in the old TV Centre reception in Wood Lane. Guests could be directed to it by the receptionist. Inside there was a phone, mic and headphones, with instructions on how to contact the radio station’s programme. Very handy for getting hold of visiting politicians and celebs on air, it was specifically positioned there to avoid having to have to use a costly ‘meeter and greeter’.
Meeter and greeters
‘Meeter and greeters’ were and still remain a vital cog in the operation. Coming from all walks of life, mostly non-broadcasting, they are on permanent call to ensure a sometimes-nervous guest is met, installed and able to operate the studio for their contribution, then lock up afterwards. It’s a part operational, part ambassadorial role, and they’re proud to do it. One is the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ Carmarthen keyholder, Gwynn Bowyer (pictured below), who died in the summer of 2024. A fervent Welsh patriot, he was the ‘meeter and greeter’ from its opening in 1993. My old ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ colleague Lawrence Hourahane paid this tribute: ‘Completely reliable, one of those people who make programmes happen. I’d never met him, but week after week he’d agree to open up for our sports reporters and camera staff. Programmes wouldn’t have got on air in their entirety without him, and others like him the length and breadth of the UK.’
Surely the most splendid ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ remote studio was situated in one of the domes of the Brighton Pavilion (pictured above). An Unattended Studio (as it was called then) opened there in May 1959, connected directly to Broadcasting House in London, and its first programme was Town and Country on the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ Service. The only ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ studio designed by John Nash (?), in order to fit in with its grand surroundings special furniture was constructed, including an acoustic screen and a regency table with headphone sockets. The equipment room was in the outer area through the door. Once local radio became established with Radio Brighton, the Unattended Studio was moved into the basement of their building and the Pavilion studio closed.
Even the microphones were top class. They’re known as 4038s, designed by the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ in the 1950s and originally built by STC. They are now still being made by Coles and are one of the most revered of all ribbon microphones. No other microphone is still being made almost 70 years later to the same original standards. They are used extensively in high end recording studios and cost around £850.
Efforts were made to capture all this information. Jeff Cohen got in touch to reminisce. ‘In the 1980s, I compiled a list of these studios for News and other network producers, to know where they were, the equipment, access arrangements and local help contact details. There were a huge number, some from the Second World War. Local radio wanted them all to be better known, as it relieved the pressure at the main stations if their remote studios were used for down the line interviews.’
Circuits were uncovered in Durham Cathedral unused since the 1950s, and even a bit of self-operated OB equipment (a COOBE) was found in Sir Bernard Lovell’s office at Jodrell Bank that hadn’t been used since the Sputnik era! Some were technically problematic, others pretty well exclusively used by the local reporter and doubled as their office. Jeff adds, ‘There were secret emergency studios, but they were not much use to us for interviewing people. They weren’t on the list, but were probably known to the local radio engineers.’ One could have been a studio in a county council bunker in Easingwold, North Yorkshire, where the UK’s National Emergency Training Centre was situated.
Green Books?
Another ex-³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ staffer, Dorothy French (née Lan Shearer), who left the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ in 1986 and is still in good health in her mid-90s, emailed to say: ‘I worked in the Radio Newsroom for 20 years and compiled a so-called ‘Green Book’. I was even allowed to travel across England to get all the details as well as keep the local radio stations sweet. No such co-operation from ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ’s Scotland or Wales though.’ She never kept a finished copy, which annoys her to this day! I wonder if any still exist?
I hope this gives a flavour of some of the studios and inject points used for so long, possibly the ‘unsung heroes’ of the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ’s technology world. If anyone has any other stories or memories, please email them to me for another time and article. In my second article, I’ll travel back down memory lane to uncover stories from the larger ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ remote studio and district office set-ups, involving more royal connections, local shopping, the Cold War – and another morgue.
*Thanks to all those former ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ engineers and technical staff who helped contribute to these articles*