Microphones are one of the most important pieces of mass communications equipment, conveying the tones and volume of the sound while they silently bear witness to history. During the late 19th century it was the dream of many scientists to transmit sound through the air without the need for conductors. The Scottish mathematician and physicist Maxwell was the first scientist to propose the theory of electromagnetic signals, and the German physicist Hertz was the first scientist to detect and produce radio waves, which is why the unit of frequency is named after him.
At the end of the 19th century, before the use of the telephone had become widespread, the idea of transmitting sound over a distance through the air was still little more than a dream. The findings of the theoretical physicist Hertz were transformed into reality by the Italian Guglielmo Marconi, who in 1896 succeeded in sending the first radio signal.

But it was to be some years before radio, then known as wireless, became a practical means of communication.
Marconi had a keen business sense and foresaw that wireless communication would be of use to ships in particular, and that plenty of money was to be earned from such a device. His predictions came true. He founded a company in England and then in America, and with the coming of the First World War the wireless equipment which he produced made him rich, as wirelesses became an indispensable part of the defence industry.
The first experiments with radio broadcasts for the general public took place in the United States. The American inventor Fessenden made the first radio broadcast from New York harbour in 1906, consisting of violin solos and readings from the Bible. The sailors who heard it were astounded by the phenomenon, concluding that they were listening to sounds from the other world.

The jingles on Nuri Halil’s tambourine must have come loose, because soon after the programme began they started falling off one by one every time he struck his instrument, and falling to the ground with a clinking sound. Nuri Halil did not know what to do. Mesut Cemil continued as if nothing had happened, casting a sidelong smile of amusement. The choir was overcome by laughter and unable to sing one of the songs. The instruments kept going, but the musicians were laughing so much they could not play properly. We managed to finish the programme, but the effort left us exhausted.’
The microphone which bears silent witness to history was of course doing its job perfectly during this incident, exactly transmitting the clinking sound of the falling tambourine jingles to the radio audience.

Utku Tonguç Topal is a photographer and freelance writer.