NZ Truth, Thursday 11 October 1928, p 6
WHEN you come to think of it, radio inspectors have rather an unenviable sort of a job.
Their chief public pursuits appear to be rounding up defaulters or sleuthing after oscillating “Oswalds!” and those execrated valves which bay o’ nights like a mastiff in distress!
But so far the iron hasn’t entered the soul of George H. Scull, the spruce and natty inspector at Auckland. Evidently he takes the philosophical view that jobs are mostly what you make them.
In the books of the P. and T. Department, George has a score of years on the credit side. Becoming exceedingly bored with common or garden telegraphy, he switched over some years ago to the Marconi variety. He did many a weary stretch in the silences of the night with the receivers glued to his lobes. But he got “next” to the mysteries of radio and caught its glamor.
George is a handy chap to know when you are unable to make a choice between a neutrodyne and a counterphase, and he doesn’t bewilder you with a stream of technical verbiage.
He is a captain in charge of the Northern Signal Depot. He rather dislikes militarism as such, but has a lot of use for the signalling arm of the service, with its field wireless, its semaphores and helios and buzzers ‘n’ everything.