When Neon Signs Crashed The Wireless
When Radio Met Neon in Parliament
It might seem almost comic now: in June 1939, just months before Britain plunged into war, the House of Commons was debating glowing shopfronts.
Mr. Gallacher, an MP with a sharp tongue, demanded answers from the Postmaster-General. Were Neon Craft House London installations scrambling the airwaves?
The answer was astonishing for the time: around a thousand complaints in 1938 alone.
Picture it: vintage neon signs London ordinary families huddled around a crackling set, desperate for dance music or speeches from the King, only to hear static and buzzing from the local cinema’s neon sign.
Postmaster-General Major Tryon admitted the scale of the headache. But here’s the rub: shopkeepers could volunteer to add suppression devices, but they couldn’t be forced.
He spoke of a possible new Wireless Telegraphy Bill, but admitted consultations would take "some time".
Which meant: more static for listeners.
The MP wasn’t satisfied. People were paying licence fees, he argued, and they deserved a clear signal.
From the backbenches came another jab. Wasn’t the state itself one of the worst offenders?
The Postmaster-General ducked the blow, saying yes, cables were part of the mess, which only complicated things further.
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Looking back now, this debate is almost poetic. Neon was once painted as the noisy disruptor.
Jump ahead eight decades and the roles have flipped: the menace of 1939 is now the endangered beauty of 2025.
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So what’s the takeaway?
Neon has never been neutral. It’s always pitted artisans against technology.
In 1939 it was seen as dangerous noise.
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Here’s the kicker. When we look at that 1939 Hansard record, we don’t just see dusty MPs moaning about static.
So, yes, old is gold. And it still does.
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Ignore the buzzwords of "LED neon". Glass and gas are the original and the best.
If neon got MPs shouting in 1939, it deserves a place in your space today.
Choose glow.
Smithers has it.
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