I must say that this moment has always captivated me, and at the same time it has also disturbed me. It was historic and has been preserved thanks to photography.
Francesc Macià has just made a momentous decision; with the energy of a great statesman he takes a risk and goes out onto the balcony of Plaça de Sant Jaume. It was April 14, 1931.
According to before, he had been preceded by a man who interpreted La Marsellesa with the cornet, and the people chanted it with emotion. Macià then appeared there, waited for complete silence to prevail and proclaimed the Catalan Republic.
I wonder if those citizens at the foot of the square found out about the short statement that at his age the man without a microphone shouted, although reinforced with an expressive gesture: bent and outstretched arm. I'm afraid not.
The country later found out with propriety thanks to the journalists who accompany him and took note of his words to spread them on the radio and in the press.
A similar event took place at the solemn opening of the Universal Exhibition of 1888, presided over by the Queen Regent. The speech was given by the royal commissioner Manuel Girona. His intervention was not banal; stated that for the first time in the world the Maritime Section was presented in front of the sea. Being a banker, and a very important one at that, he was used to giving orders without having to shout. That is why his voice did not reach the auditorium that filled the enormous Palace of Fine Arts: the city did not find out what he was saying until it read it in the press.
I evoke these two relevant cases, driven by the reading of an original and revealing essay that addresses an infinite number of visual performances of power in public life: El poder en escena, by Alan Salvadó and Jordi Balló (eds.); Gutenberg Galaxy. The subject of the amplified voice and the microphone appears to be treated thoroughly and successfully.
Although what I will explain next did not happen in these regions, it deserves to be explained.
The prestigious journalist and writer Arthur Koestler, who had made a name for himself in the Second World War, deserved a great tribute in peacetime in New York. When he started his speech, the microphone was damaged. Outraged, he shouted and asked if this was really the country that claimed to lead the world. He threw that contraption to the ground, hit two, and left the auditorium standing.
