After the stagnant Edo Period ended in 1868, Japan was quick to make up for lost time to stay competitive with the world they’d re-entered. From a feudal society that had little changed socially or technologically since 1600, Japan bypassed 250 years of incremental development and modernized like no other nation had before. So it’s really no surprise that when the first commercial radio station began operations in 1920, Japan would be just a few years behind them.

On March 22, 1925 an announcer got behind the microphone and called out slowly and loudly, like a shout to his far off listeners- “J-O-A-K.” The call letters of Tokyo Broadcasting Station, which is now known as NHK. The original broadcast came from a temporary station and full operations began in July atop the highest point in town, Atagoyama.

Today, Atago is a “mountain” dwarfed by the skyscrapers and even apartment towers around it. It may not be the best place for broadcasting anymore, but where else would you share the story of broadcasting in Japan? The NHK Museum of Broadcasting was founded here in 1956 and bills itself as the world’s first museum dedicated to broadcasting.

The museum is multi-layered, combining a historic section with more hands-on contemporary areas that showcase NHK’s range of programming today and a hands-on television studio.

To get this out of the way quickly, this museum is mostly not English friendly. The contemporary sections are entirely in Japanese, but the studio personnel spoke varying degrees of English and the historic floor is almost entirely bilingual.

As a former professional broadcaster I enjoyed playing around in the Atagoyama Studio. Using retired equipment, a news studio and weather corner, complete with stick ball (!), has been set up. The attendant spoke fluent English and we talked a bit about broadcasting here and how everything worked.

Sitting at the news desk I found that couldn’t read the Japanese script so looking into the camera I rattled off my old morning show introduction for an ‘audience’ for the first time in seven years causing the lady working there to laugh.

For a new experience I took hold of the legendary stick ball and tried weather reporting for once. The Defense Information School teaches a lot of things, but we don’t learn weather. For those unfamiliar with Japanese studio weather reports, the weather girl has a stick with a giant ball on the end of it. It’s an unreasonably large ball for the stick. The screen was touch sensitive so I used it to draw the movement of low pressure systems or something and tapped weather icons to add them to the board. I amuse easy and you can blame the rain on me.

The other section I spent a lot of time in is the historic floor, which is a solid history museum. I watched the evolution of the mediums of radio and television from the first broadcast to this decade here. It does a good job showing the flow of history with artifacts (so, so many microphones and radios), the tools of the broadcaster’s trade and related equipment. As the gear progresses its given context both for NHK and the larger world. Usually a relevant broadcast, such as hearing the J-O-A-K call sign.

This was an easy area to take in because almost everything, except for the historic broadcasts, was translated. Each section had a dual language introduction and all the artifacts could be read about on Multi-language touchscreens in front of each display. If you’re a diehard microphone or radio enthusiast be prepared to learn every bit of minutiae there is about them.

There are also corners where visitors can choose famous radio or television broadcasts to listen to. Even though I barely understand Japanese it was still cool to listen to the Feb. 29, 1936 broadcast ordering the mutinous Imperial Japanese Army soldiers that had occupied their nation’s capital to stand down as well as the Dec. 8, 1941 declaration of war. On the other hand, watching the Jul. 20, 1969 moon landing through the lens of a Japanese television broadcast needed no translation.

Doing that paled with seeing, and hearing, the original Gyukuon-Hoso. Sealed inside a temperature controlled and likely indestructible case is a non-descript record. It bears no name, just a white label with a winged logo and serial number stamped across the top.

This record is Emperor Hirohito’s Aug. 15, 1945 broadcast announcing that the war was no longer advancing in Japan’s favor and that he had agreed to the Allies’ demands, ending World War II.

A digitally remastered recording plays on a loop behind it along with a video showing the disheartened reactions of people across the nation as they listened to it. I couldn’t understand what was being said and neither could most Japanese, but this too, needed no translation.

It’s hard to explain the particular emotion that came from seeing that particular black disc that brought an end to Japan’s 14-year war. I hadn’t expected any particular emotion from seeing it, NHK doesn’t even announce they have it in their brochure, it’s just there. I’d heard the same recording already, played from a vintage radio, but there was just something about seeing it, hearing it and watching the reaction video. Seeing this would be worth the price of admission, if the museum wasn’t already free.

This item is important enough that it needs displaying in its own section, complete with audio/visual support, microphone and recording device, but I guess it’s not something you want to admit to having too loudly as neither the museum’s website or brochure even mentions it.

After finishing the historic area I breezed through others on NHK’s dramas and children’s program, though I did stop and look at their Great Tohoku Earthquake photography collection. There’s a final hands on ‘how sound effects are made’ corner in the World of Dramas that would cause any Monty Python fan to pause. It is a pair of coconut halves.

You know what to do with these.

I highly recommend this museum which provided me 90 minutes of education and entertainment for free. Not bad for a place I discovered with an accidental Google Maps swipe.

The nearest train station is Shimbashi and the closest subways are Kamiyacho, Toranomon and Onarimon. I came from Toranomon and passed through Atago Tunnel to get to the museum. Getting to the top of Atagoyama requires taking an elevator just past the tunnel. There’s a sign on the wall immediately to your right and a visible set of stairs behind it. The sign says to take the elevator, which is hidden behind the wall in the right-hand corner. The corner is dark and it’s easy to miss.

Admission is free and except for the studio and the World of Drama no photography is allowed.

CONTACT

2-1-1, Atago, Minato-ku, Tokyo 105-0002
(03) 5400-6900