Jack Heaton, wireless operator

by A. Frederick Collins

This astounding feat made the British Admiralty sit up and scan the horizon and seeing wireless writ large upon it, it had Marconi put his outfits on three cruisers that very year. During the naval manœuvers which soon took place wireless as a factor in fighting was given a thorough tryout with the result that the top-notch distance was reached when the flagship of the fleet signaled orders to one of the cruisers at a distance of 85 miles.

I remember distinctly how every one over here was talking about that wonderful wireless and the boy who invented it. Consequently when the New York Herald announced that it had engaged Marconi to report the International Yacht Race at New York, the one word on everybody’s tongue was wireless. A ship fitted with wireless that followed in the wake of the yacht, and a shore station was used as in the Kingston Regatta. Over 4,000 words were transmitted from the wireless ship to the shore station where they were retransmitted by wire to the Herald office in New York.

The Marconi interests got busy on this side of the big wet and organized a company to carry on the business over here. Stations were put up in 1901 at different points on the Atlantic coast and also in England. The British Marconi Company entered into an agreement with Lloyd’s in which the latter agreed to use only the Marconi system for a term of 14 years and that ships fitted with Marconi apparatus should not exchange messages with ships carrying any other make of apparatus. Then began the great business of installing Marconi apparatus on the fleets of transatlantic shipping routes. Still Marconi wasn’t satisfied; he wanted to and did do bigger things.

I hadn’t been home from South America more than a fortnight when it just so happened that I listened-in (without a receiver and quite unintentionally I assure you) to a conversation between two officials of a certain wireless company. The message I got was that Marconi was on his way to St. Johns, Newfoundland, with a couple of assistants and that his purpose was to find out how far he could receive messages from passing steamers.

My subconscious self immediately wirelessed to my conscious self that it would be a fitting piece of business for me to work under the great inventor—though he was not much older than I, I knew perfectly well that there was no use trying to get a job with him through the ordinary channels for he had brought his own assistants from England with him and, of course, none others were wanted.

Therefore, I said nothing to any one but quietly hopped on a train for St. Johns, and trusted to luck for the rest. Did you ever notice, Mr. Collins, that when you make up your mind to do a certain thing and you try as hard as you can to do it, good luck generally meets you somewhere along the road and gives you a lift?

Well, when I got to St. Johns, it was the 3rd of December, 1901. I went into a second hand store and bought an outfit of clothes so that I would look like the rest of the working people up there; and when I put them on I flattered myself that I did; my face and hands tanned in the tropics helping out quite some.

I learned that Marconi and his assistants had not arrived nor had any one heard that they were to come. I figured it out that their coming was either a secret or a hoax—in fact, I was inclined to the latter belief; and I had great fears I was on a wild-goose chase and that I had spent about half a million of my hard-earned Brazilian reis for nothing. I stuck around though, and on the 6th who should come to town but the inventor of the wireless telegraph, though to look at him you would not have suspected it. I did not make known to his assistants that I was an operator but when the boxes and hamper which contained his instruments were unloaded I jumped in and helped to put them on the wagon.

Mr. Marconi—now that I had seen him he was Mr.—and one of his assistants left and the other remained behind to look after the bags and baggage. He thought I was the helper of the driver of the dray and the driver thought I was one of the assistants—or at least that’s what I thought they thought. At any rate when we got the dray loaded I just naturally jumped on and went with them.

Mr. Kemp, the assistant, instructed the driver to go to Signal Hill, which is about half-a-mile from St. Johns and right at the mouth of the harbor. When we got there I was nearly frozen but I buckled right down and helped the drayman to unload the stuff and to carry it into the barracks. When he had been paid and was ready to go I said to the driver, “guess I’ll stay and help around,” and when he said “all right,” I knew that matters were pretty well fixed. From that time on I made myself generally useful as a first class roustabout.