8.4.1
As mentioned in 1.1.10, the banning of Reginald Berkeley's play, 'Machines' in 1927-8 was devastating. It would have been broadcast in 1928 and correspondence about it continued into the March of that year. That is why discussion of it is placed in this chapter.
The writing showed such an advance on Berkeley's 'The White Chateau', and his model this time was to some extent Eugene O'Neill's 'The Hairy Ape' (of 1922), but this 'Machines' was a realist play. Berkeley also broke with the stage model, and had fourteen scenes, though in total it would have run for a good two hours and more. Each scene, from factory to House of Commons, newspaper office and the final short scene in the Strand when newspaper boys cried the execution of the protagonist, offered a strongly defined 'mise en scène'. Indeed, the succession of these scenic settings builds up an unrivalled contrast. Although Berkeley to some lesser extent still stuck to the old Galsworthy stage format, this play had the dignity, tension and passion of plays of the coming decade. It was a prophet before its time and should have been, but was not, brought to the stage in the 1930s theatre of the left. Unfortunately, Berkeley died in 1935.
'Machines' was also a monumental political parable, and could have founded the 'National Theatre of the Air'. Reading it some seventy-five years later, there are elements of the contemporary playwright David Hare, especially in its vivid and satiric presentation of the Press, the Church, a conniving Tory MP, and the House of Commons. It has the sweep of 'Pravda'. The B.B.C. banned it on a technicality – the 'controversial' clause in the playwright's contract. There was therefore no need to enter into correspondence on the deeper grounds of banning. There was a remarkable exchange of letters, in which Berkeley expressed himself with great dignity and with the incisive passion of the barrister and MP that he had been. The other extraordinary aspect of the 'Machines' affair is that Berkeley saw to it that the events were brought to public attention, both by publishing the correspondence in a beautifully bound volume (which looks like a private print), and in having a question asked in the House of Commons. Berkeley never worked for the B.B.C. again. Fortunately for R.E. Jeffrey, 'Pursuit' was broadcast in January 1928, a success, but 'Machines' may well have been a factor in his resignation at the end of the year.
Script discussions between Berkeley and Jeffrey took place in early 1927 and on the 4th March, Jeffrey warned Berkeley by letter about not including in the play 'anything that can be labelled politically controversial' (correspondence in Caversham – see 8.4.11). The play contract was signed on 3 May 1927 and the MS was to be delivered on 9 September 1927. It arrived a month late, as Reith later pointed out. The banning came in a memo from Reith on 24 October 1927. When informed, Berkeley wrote a stunning reply, which deserves to be put into the archives of the Index on Censorship as a model for all artists suppressed by institutions of state. The final flurry of notes took place in March 1928.
8.4.2
Berkeley had a successful 1927-8 with six shows and that was to lead to his best-known play, 'The Lady with the Lamp' in 1929. 'The White Chateau' (as previously mentioned in 5.6.2) went on stage at the Everyman from 29 March to 9 April 1927, for thirteen performances. Henry Oscar was the Chronicler and the Workman in the final scene, and Norman Shelley, Douglas Jefferies and Eric Lugg were in the cast. They had been in the wireless production of 1925. The management was George Carr, Raymond Massey and Philip Wade and it had a cast of 26. It transferred to the St. Martin's Theatre for thirty-six performances (28 April – 28 May 1927). MacQueen-Pope commented:
The White Chateau at the St Martin's was a most interesting play by that imaginative author Reginald Berkeley. It only ran for 36 performances but it deserved to do much better. It was before its time.
(MacQueen-Pope, 1959, 184)
Once 'Journey's End' by R.C. Sherriff began at the Apollo on 9 December 1928 and then became a hit from January 1929, running for 594 performances, there would have been little further hope of reviving 'The White Chateau'.
Berkeley's comedy, 'French Leave', was revived at the Regent from 18 June 1927 to 24 June for 12 performances. It had been written during the War and originally played at the Globe and Apollo (15 July – 19 March 1921, 283 performances, 5.6.9). 'Listeners' played at Wyndham's Theatre (9 February – 17 March 1928, 44 performances) with Leon M. Lion starring and as producer. (Berkeley and this play are not mentioned in Lion's autobiography, Lion 1940). This was revived at the Regent (28 April – 4 May 1928, 12 performances) with a different cast. 'The World's End' opened at the Everyman (9 May – 22 May 1928, 14 performances), with Milton Rosmer, Philip Wade, and under the management of Milton Rosmer.
'Lucky Girl', the musical adaptation of Berkeley's 'Mr. Abdulla' novel, ran at the Shaftesbury and then the Pavilion from 14 November 1928 for 150 performances. His most famous play was to come, about Florence Nightingale. This was 'The Lady with a Lamp', which started at the Arts (5 January – 13 January 1929, 10 performances) and transferred to the Garrick (24 January 1929 – 15 June 1929, 164 performances), starring Edith Evans. Ernest Short commented:
Reginald Berkeley's 'A Lady with a Lamp' was concerned with Florence Nightingale and owed something to Lytton Strachey, for Berkeley presented the same resolute and clear-thinking characters as that given in "Eminent Victorians". Sentiment was discarded ruthlessly. Berkeley came from New Zealand just before the First World War as a newspaper man [and a barrister], and he gained a footing on the London stage with the comedy 'French Leave', which ran for a year at the Globe in 1920. His early death was a loss to English drama, but 'A Lady with a Lamp' should keep his memory alive, if only because of the acting opportunities offered to Edith Evans. When this actress is called upon to play through her repertory, and such a time will come, Florence Nightingale will be an early choice. At its first production, Gwen Ffrangcon-Davies as Lady Herbert was a perfect foil to Edith Evans.
(Short, 1951, 180-1)
Also, Berkeley's 'The Prince Consort' ran at the Arts (24 February – 3 March 1929, 10 performances). 'The White Chateau' was revived on 11 November 1938 for television at Alexandra Palace and the WW1 explosion effects caused panic in the neighbourhood, an anecdote amusingly told in the collection of early television stories, Coming To You Live! (Norden and Gilbert, 1985, 49-51).
8.4.3
The 'Machines' affair can be reconstructed from the exchange of letters published by Berkeley (Berkeley 1928), and memoes in the Berkeley file at Caversham. Script negotiations between Jeffrey and Berkeley were in early 1927, and a contract had been signed on 3 May 1927 for MS. delivery on 9 September 1927. Jeffrey had sent a letter to Berkeley on 4 March 1927, making it plain that controversial matter was to be excluded (8.4.3). In a B.B.C. memo of 18 March 1927, Jeffrey noted that he had brought Berkeley down from a fee of one hundred and fifty guineas to one hundred.
Berkeley sent a handwritten note, on Savage Club paper, saying that he had finished 'Machines', dated 8 September 1927. This was addressed 'Dear Jeff', a familiarity also used by Cecil Lewis in his correspondence. It is the only glimpse we have behind the 'R.E. Jeffrey' of radio drama history – and we still do not know his first name. Later, in his account of the banning of the play which he published as an introduction to the text, Berkeley described R.E. Jeffrey as 'a charming man to work with' (Berkeley, 1928, 17).
When R.E. Jeffrey received the play, over a month late, and the first memo about the MS is dated 20 October 1927, he realised that he must reject it. This was potentially a publicity disaster for the new Corporation. The content was extremely controversial. The author was well-known, a trained barrister, he had a growing hold in London theatre, and was an ex-M.P. Further, he was the must significant writer in the Production Department stable and 'Machines' had promised to bring, in 1928, the success they had had in November 1925 with 'The White Chateau'. Both parties would disagree over the original script negotiations and the 'controversy' exclusion clause.
2LO had been particularly weak in originations. In 1926, eleven out of the thirteen originations had been broadcast from London, and among them were Richard Hughes's 'The Rum Runners' (which just might not have been transmitted as it was in the middle of the General Strike), Captain Frank Shaw's 'Bright Gold' (co-scripted with R.E. Jeffrey), 'Outward Bound', 'The Mayfair Mystery' as part of the thriller competition, and 'Milestones of Dancing and Romance'. In 1927, originations overall dropped to eleven and the only two broadcast on 2LO were Valerie Harwood's 'Shadows' (and then she disappeared) and Lance Sieveking's 'The Seven Ages of Mechanical Music' (and he was staff). Were Frank Shaw's plays in the previous year of a similarly low standard to his 1927 'By Virtue of a Broadcast'? This latter was not broadcast on 2LO or Daventry.
The weakness of Savoy Hill original drama was even more public now that it was airing on Daventry also. But in autumn 1927, prospects for 1928 were splendid. Cecil Lewis's 'Pursuit' would be broadcast on 6 January 1928, and even if the script had not yet arrived, Jeffrey must have been confident of delivery. 'The Night Fighters' (26 March 1928) and 'Montezuma' (28 December 1928) were to follow. Negotiations should already have started with Jeffrey Fernol for 'A Woman's Reason' (29 March 1928) and the anonymous author of 'Speed' (for 2 April 1928). Berkeley had signed the contract for 'Machines' four months before the due delivery and a proposal must have preceded this, so say, a lead-in of five months before the due arrival of the script.
8.4.4
Once the alarm had been raised by Jeffrey, a handwritten memo was sent on up the line to Reith with the script on 20 October 1927. Although the signature is indecipherable, it appears to have come from W.E.G. Murray (see below). The memo said, in orotund style:
This was passed to me by the Productions Director to "vet". Although it is reminiscent of the German film Metropolis it certainly has dramatic quality and good dialogue. But from beginning to end it bristles with political controversiality; there is an appearance of impartiality but rather of the order of that which Dr. Johnson was disposed to give the Whigs! Therefore it raises issues of the first importance and I certainly would not accept the responsibility of passing it. It occurs to me that fuller advance consultations over the outline might have been of advantage.
It is the sort of thing we might consider later on but I should doubt its wisdom now, when extension of power is under review. Our danger is the impression created on the mind of the listener intervening at a moment when some violent expression of opinion is in progress
The 'fuller advance consultations' were the weak point of the B.B.C. Murray meant the script meetings between Jeffrey and Berkeley early in 1927. But as emerged later, Jeffrey had inserted the clause about controversial material into a letter to Berkeley. Broadcasting 'controversial' material was a perennial problem for the B.B.C., from the Crawford Committee (Briggs, 1961, 248 ff.), in Parliamentary questions in 1926 (351) and during the General Strike (380-3). A statement by the Prime Minister resolved the procedure formally ('The Times' 6 March 1928 p 10), and a B.B.C. internal 'Controversy Committee' met from March 1928 to November 1929 (Briggs, 1965, 131). The last correspondence from Berkeley was in March 1928, after the Prime Minster's statement, so 'Machines' may have been discussed by this committee (8.4.13).
Next, Reith replied to 'Mr. Murray', dated 24 October 1927. This is Gladstone Murray (W.E.G. Murray), who was in charge of publicity and public relations, and had been in the B.B.C. since 1924 (Briggs, 1965, 19). The visual appearance of the document itself is expressive. Reith had stuck two of his 'very urgent' red stickers onto it and 'Machines' is handwritten as a title.
Reith explained that he had the script for a week but no time to read it. That very day he had asked 'Mr. Stobard' to read it as they were travelling in the car to Maidstone where Reith had other work. This was J.C. Stobard, who in 1926 was 'in overall charge of an empire consisting of talks, news, education, and religion' (Briggs, 1965, 124). Stobard's comments 'were sufficient to indicate to me that it did not seem worth while holding it up any longer in the hope of being able to read it'. Reith's wording seems to indicate that he had not read 'Machines' himself, but relied on Stobard's, presumably illustrated, resume and opinions. (The scene in the car can be imagined.)
Reith added two points, as he inspected the paperwork in the Berkeley file. The play was late in arriving by some six weeks. It had been 'contracted for on 3.5.27 and delivery should have been given on 9.9.27', and clinchingly, 'in Mr. R.E. Jeffrey's letter to the author of 4.3.27 it was made sufficiently plain that controversial matter was to be excluded'. (That letter, with what must have been a standard clause, no longer exists in the file.) Reith recommended that R.E. Jeffrey deal with it, but discuss this with Gladstone Murray and J.C. Stobard beforehand.
8.4.5
An undated letter from R.E. Jeffrey to Reginald Berkeley followed, and as Reginald Berkeley said, his own reply (of 17 November 1928) was delayed, Jeffrey must have written promptly. This was the rejection letter to Reginald Berkeley, addressed to 'Woodland Cottage, Marlow', and he returned the script:
The subject of the play is far too controversial for purposes of broadcasting.
But there must have been a meeting or telephone conversation between the two before this, as Jeffrey refers to arguments of Berkeley's defending his position. So this is a formal statement. Previous letters from Berkeley had been addressed to 'Dear Jeff', and their working relationship was three years old. It had begun with 'The White Chateau' and its repeats, had gone on through the broadcast adaptation of 'The Quest of Elizabeth' in the London studio (11 December 1925 Birmingham 8.45-9.10) and repeats, the origination, 'The Dweller in the Darkness' (4 January 1926 2LO London SB Bournemouth Glasgow Birmingham 10.30-11) and its repeats. Jeffrey concedes:
I quite agree with you that the final curtain does eventually show the problem from a rational angle, but such a denouement at the end of a play of this length is by no means sufficient to counteract the many difficult statements which occur throughout. Much of the context of this play could be extracted and used with great force against us as being of a propaganda nature.
Then he gets down to the details:
The hero, if I may call him such, is drawn as almost the sanest man in the piece, which is another argument against our using it. The character of Colonel Willoughby, the Conservative, is of the conventional type which again does not help matters from our point of view.
8.4.6
He then refers to their scripting conferences:
The main idea that you had that the machines tended to get greater than the men was fundamentally sound from the broadcast angle, and the quotation I mentioned to you from Beecher "Wonderful is the skill by which the mechanism of the watch is constructed, but greater is the man that made the watch than the watch which is made", was further to the idea you mentioned, and was how I thought the plot of the play would swing towards the finish. Such a theme as this treated less politically than you have treated the matter of your play, would have been acceptable.
He repeats the grounds of rejection and emphasises them:
I am afraid the political side of your work in this case overweighs such a general argument as the one suggested. The vitality of your play, I venture to say, lies in the politics of it rather than the dramatic essence which is induced by the political argument.
Next Jeffrey refers to the production a year and a half ago of 'R.U.R.' (Karel Capek) (27 May 1927 London 9.35-11), arranged and directed by Cecil Lewis:
In the Robot play to which I likened your idea, the political considerations were entirely wiped out by the drama of the machines.
The letter ends clarifying that this is 'total rejection' and there is no way of 'adapting it adequately to suit our medium'. Another play proposal in synopsis form would be welcome as:
Two or three hundred words story of a proposed new plot would probably result in preventing this difficulty from again arising.
The letter is signed 'Kind regards'.
8.4.7
Berkeley's reply is dated 17 November 1927. It is a dignified and carefully composed 1,200 words, and deserves to join an anthology of artists who have endured censorship from state institutions. Its anger comes through as well as Berkeley's training in forensic oratory (5.6.9). He was now aged fifty-seven.
In his introductory remarks, he explains that he will not demolish Jeffrey's letter 'sentence by sentence', he has no sense of personal grievance, and he does not depend on 'working for the microphone … though as you know I have faith in that medium, and enjoy working through it'. The matter is of public interest:
… whether broadcasting is to become, as it should, a new dramatic art-form – as distinctive as the theatre or the cinema, and inferior to neither – or to linger on as a kind of poor relation of the stage, decked out in misfits cut down from the old clothes of its elder sister, when they are sufficiently out of date.
This is startlingly telling. It goes to the heart of the development of wireless playwriting and creativity. Berkeley then moves on to the key and constrictive term 'controversial':
… absurd as ['controversial' is as] a criterion of works of art in general, this test becomes the wildest nonsense when applied to the drama; for the whole essence of drama is conflict. I must add that nonsense (alas!) rises to a quintessential climax in your pronouncement on the subject, because, when you commissioned me to write this play, you expressly stipulated that it should be a play appealing to the intellect, which is a dramatic impossibility without a conflict of ideas – that is to say, without controversy.
He has deftly sidestepped the 'controversial' exclusion clause in the artist's contract and a warning about this in script discussions with Jeffrey.
8.4.8
Then he produces a masterstroke of irony and detective work. He carefully builds up to it:
You lead off with a phrase about counter-acting "the many difficult statements which occur throughout the play". This I did not at all understand, until I discovered that somebody had made pencil marks in the margin of my script against certain passages. From there I gather that such sentiments as the following are on the index expurgatorius at 2LO.
"I want to see the class form which I spring – the workers – emancipated from catchwords."
"Let us be taken into industry on the terms that we are our own employers – that we are partners in the truest sense; and not merely the servants of capital."
Again, with reference to a policy of mere money-making: "I feel somehow that's all wrong. I don't mean dishonest, but just soulless. No good to the world".
"Failure means annihilation. Every visible machine, and every invisible one – Law – Church – State – Press – everything will be ranged against me."
"That's what he'd become" (a second-rate tub-thumper) "if he got into the hands of the Trade Unions – because they teach 'em to talk rot … But we [underlined] (the Industrialists) "could make a very useful fellow out of him".
And so on. I have chosen these quite at random out of a considerable number of marked passages.
The pencil marks in the script margin – did these come from J.C. Stobard's own hand in that fateful car ride to Maidstone with Reith(8.4.4)? Finally, in the last section of the letter, Berkeley, the prosecuting barrister, lets loose his interrogation:
These are the kind of thing that you tell me you are afraid would be used against you. By whom? Surely not anyone outside Bedlam [heavy irony] or the Coal Mining Association [reference to the capitalist interests in the play]? Has no-one at the B.B.C. ever heard of the Co-Partnership Association [championed by the play's protagonist], that pedestrian and hard-working society that meets in back drawing-rooms and strives, without much encouragement, it is true, to pave the way to the industrial millennium? … If you care to consult your Governing Body, I am sure they will convince you that the whole trend of modern industrial thought is in the direction of substituting a status of partnership for the status of employment.
8.4.9
Again with courtroom exactitude, he refutes each of the accusations against him:
I now pass to the objection that the hero of the play is drawn as "almost the sanest man in the piece, which is another argument against our using it" – a sentence which, when I read it, left me wondering if my eyesight was playing me a trick. The hero of my play is a working man.
Then this from the ex-Member for Nottingham, elected in the Free Trade interest as an Independent, and also to a B.B.C. which had come through the 1926 General Strike with its political reputation changed forever:
For the objection to the character of Colonel Willoughby, that he is a conservative of "the conventional type", leaves little doubt as to which way the wind blows on Savoy Hill. Is the Broadcasting Corporation an annexe of the Conservative Party Office? Is that the quarter from which you are afraid of attack?
8.4.10
Berkeley then arrives at his peroration. He will pass over the other points though Jeffrey must not then see him as assenting to them. (Like a good lawyer, he reserves his position.) He refers back to their scripting conferences:
And in justice to myself I must ask, reminding you how anxious you were to have a scene (in both senses of the word) in the House of Commons, if it is quite reasonable to reprove me for introducing "politics".
He delivers his warning:
The issue in this matter is a public one. The public has a direct interest in the programmes. It pays for them. The public is looking for a school of radio-plays to develop. It is entitled to know what are the difficulties with which dramatists are faced.
This play, which you have rejected, was written at your express request, after you had heard an outline of the plot. It is rejected, not upon artistic grounds, but because it contains ideas. These are facts which the public ought to know. There is some constant criticism of the want of originality in broadcast matter. It is quite time that listeners-in realised that, so far as drama is concerned, it is impossible for progress to be made under existing conditions.
He then says that he has arranged for 'Machines' to be published and that he will include the correspondence as as introduction.
8.4.11
It took a flurry of snappy, official letters to reach endgame. Roger Eckersley received a memo from 'A.C. (1)' recommending 'a short, sharp rejoinder … formally from A.C.'. This letter to Berkeley was a formal defence:
As you are anxious to publish the correspondence on the rejection of this play, it is desirable to complete it by the inclusion of this letter. We did not, as you imply in the second paragraph of your recent letter, commit the folly of condemning a work of art because it was controversial. Our rejection of your play was not on the grounds that, being controversial, it failed as a work of art, but on the grounds that, being politically controversial, it failed as a play required for broadcasting.
Then the B.B.C.'s defence case was produced:
Writing on the 4th March, after discussing with you the outlines of the play, Mr. R.E. Jeffrey said "you will excuse me if I again stress my point that the B.B.C. has to be extremely careful on grounds of public policy not to broadcast anything that can be labelled politically controversial".
And in a phrase which would be seized on by Berkeley's legal brain, the letter continued:
In the conduct of the service of Broadcasting, we are required to observe certain constitutional limitations. While our frontiers are gradually extending, there are certain kinds of programme material which are at present outside our range.
8.4.12
Berkeley's rejoinder is dated 21 November 1927:
I am very glad to have your assurance that my play was not rejected on the grounds that it failed as a work of art. Mr. Jeffrey's letter made this inferentially plain; but it is good to have the fact categorically stated.
This admission, however, so far from explaining the matter, merely serves to strengthen the case against you. No writer is entitled to complain (however much he may deplore it) if his work is rejected as bad or indifferent. He can only hope that time will justify him. But he has a legitimate reason for inviting the verdict of the public when his work is banned as "politically controversial"; even if, as suggested by the third paragraph of your letter, the ban is principally dictated by fear of what other people may say.
Perhaps I may be forgiven for adding that I do not at all see what "constitutional limitations" have to do with the argument, unless they be of the kind associated with the Constitutional Club and the small but mercifully short-lived party led by Winston Churchill at the last General election.
8.4.13
Back came the B.B.C., on 23 November 1927, with a short statement of their defence, in sum:
A constitutional limitation debars us from broadcasting your play "Machines" and its artistic quality is therefore not under discussion.
We see no useful purpose in continuing this correspondence.
So the banning of 'Machines' had finally been reduced to a constitutional argument. Berkeley went ahead and published 'Machines' and an undated letter to the B.B.C., but in 1928, from Robert Holden and Co. Ltd., Publishers and Exporters, with an address at 31 Gower Street, London W.C.1, announced this:
In view of the fact that the British Broadcasting Company have banned a play, the significance of this seemed to very important that ROBERT HOLDEN & CO., LTD., are publishing immediately Reginald Berkeley's play Machines.
The play deals with a dramatic treatment of a modern motif:- the demand of the workers for a share in the control of Industry by the forceful shop-steward James Mansell, who is a foundling. But this protagonist of syndicalism in his single zeal, has forgotten the insidious power of those other machines – the Press, the Police, the Social code. And that irresistible power wrecks at once his ambition and his love.
As an introduction to the play the whole correspondence between Captain Berkeley and the British Broadcasting Company is printed, in order that the public can judge for themselves whether the latter were justified in taking the action that they have.
Might Holden & Co. have sent a copy along with this press announcement? Was 'Machines' read by the Productions Department and others in Savoy Hill? The edition is expensively produced, with marbled pages and leather bound. From the copy in the British Library, this looks like a limited edition. Reginald Berkeley had no further contact with the B.B.C. that I can find at present and as he lived till 1935, a further search of 'The Radio Times' remains. But his correspondence file ends in 1928.
8.4.14
Berkeley launched two more attacks. Hore-Belisha, prompted by him asked a question in the House of Commons, on 22 December 1927:
Mr. Hore-Belisha
Asked the Postmaster-General whether it is the policy of his Department that the words in the charter of the British Broadcasting Corporation prohibiting the broadcasting of politically controversial matter should be extended to works of literature dealing imaginatively with industrial life; whether in so interpreting those provisions the corporation has acted in consultation with his Department or as a result of directions from his Department; and whether he can see his way to attain what is desired without the imposition of a literary censorship foreign to the tradition of this country and harmful to the development of broadcasting?
But the phrasing is woolly and determined by the protocol of the times. Why no direct naming of Berkeley and 'Machines'? He was stonewalled by Viscount Wolmer in reply:
Under the terms of the licence granted to the British Broadcasting Corporation a notice has been served on the Corporation directing them to refrain from broadcasting (a) statements expressing the opinion of the Corporation on matters of public policy, and (b) speeches or lectures containing statements on topics of political, religious or industrial controversy. It is left to the discretion of the Corporation to carry out these instructions.
(Extract from Parliamentary Debates, House of Commons, 22 December 1927, Vol 212 no 144)
In the B.B.C. Berkeley file, this exchange is typed up with a handwritten note 'put with the "Machines" correspondence. It may be in reference to Machines'. This was no more than a passing blow.
8.4.15
When the ban on controversial material was removed, there was another flurry of letters, conducted on Savage Club notepaper. Berkeley started with a handwritten note to Lord Clarendon on 13 March 1928, surely about the date that his play would have been transmitted:
Dear Lord Clarendon
Now that the ban on the broadcasting of controversial matter has been removed by the Government, I presume the B.B.C. will carry out its contract for the broadcasting of my play "Machines" which, according to the letters written on behalf of your Corporation was only barred by the "constitutional limitation".
As I understand the Governing Body is meeting tomorrow I have asked Mrs. Snowdon to raise the matter and she has kindly promised to do so.
Yours faithfully
And further:
Dear Sir John Reith
Now that the ban on the broadcasting of controversial matter has been removed by the Government I presume the B.B.C. will carry out its contract for the broadcasting of my play "Machines" which. According to the letters written on behalf of your Corporation was only barred by the "constitutional limitation".
As I understand the Governing Body is meeting tomorrow, I have asked Mrs. Snowdon to raise the matter and she has kindly promised to do so.
This was a shrewd move, for Mrs. Ethel Snowden (wife of Philip Snowden), B.B.C. governor from 1926 to 1932, was a 'thorn in Reith's side' (Briggs, 1961, 354). Reith called her a 'poisonous creature' (McIntyre, 1993, 154). Emmanuel Shinwell described her as 'fearsome when crossed, with an unerring knack of squeezing the last drop of drama out of the most trivial incident' (155).
I still have to search the Board meeting minutes to see if this was raised. The B.B.C. ended the correspondence finally on 10 April 1928:
Further to my letter of 15th March, the Governors have been informed by the director-General that the responsible officials here consider your play unsuitable of broadcast , and I am to inform you therefore, with regret, that the matter must be considered closed as far as the Corporation is concerned.
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