Mr Lee Kuan Yew And Our Father At Caldecott Hill

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This week, we commemorate what would have been our father's 96th birthday had he still been with us. He passed away three years ago, but his stories and memories remain as vivid as ever in our hearts.

Our father spent his entire working life with a single employer. As a radio technician, he began his career at Radio Malaya, which later became Radio Singapore in 1959. Following Singapore's independence in 1965, it was renamed Radio Television Singapore, and by the time he retired in 1985, it had become the Singapore Broadcasting Corporation, known today as Mediacorp.

After his retirement, family dinners often became occasions for storytelling, as he recounted some of the many adventures and experiences from his years at Caldecott Hill. Among the many stories he shared, one particular recollection has remained with us through the years.

It was 1961, when only the older of us boys was around, still a baby then. We were living in our Bedok kampong home, and our father made his daily journey to work at Caldecott Hill (he was on rotational duty) before returning to his family.

That year, he was part of the technical team preparing the radio broadcasts of Mr Lee Kuan Yew's speeches on the proposed merger with Malaya. Seated with him in the recording booth, our father was monitoring the sound equipment through his headphones while making final engineering adjustments.

Just before recording was due to begin, Mr Lee suddenly stopped the proceedings.

"What is that sound?" he gently asked.

No one else seemed to notice anything unusual. Mr Lee then requested everyone in the room to remain still and listen carefully. After a moment, they heard it: the faint, almost imperceptible whirring of a cooling fan from a piece of studio equipment somewhere in the booth.

Mr Lee was unwilling to proceed until the source of the noise had been addressed. The recording, in his view, had to be perfect.

Looking back, our father often reflected on that moment, not simply because of what happened, but because it revealed something about the man himself. It demonstrated Mr Lee's insistence on excellence and his determination to attend to even the smallest details that others might have overlooked. Whether in a recording studio or in the immense task of nation building, he believed that standards mattered.

The story left a lasting impression on us. It taught us how much emphasis Mr Lee placed on striving for excellence in whatever one undertook. At the same time, it also gave us a sense of pride that our father, through his work behind the scenes, played a small part in helping those historic broadcasts reach the public.

Our father did not make the speech, but he helped Singapore hear it.

Though he was never one to seek recognition, he was among the many ordinary Singaporeans whose dedication and professionalism helped support the nation's early development. From the recording studios of Caldecott Hill to our humble kampong home in Bedok, his contribution formed part of a larger story that was unfolding around him.

As we look back today, we are grateful for the memories he shared and the values he quietly passed on to us.

Happy heavenly 96th birthday, Dad. We miss you dearly and think of you always.



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