TOMORROW'S NEW YESTERDAY - The Baxter Years

In 1965, an early evening "popular science" format was commissioned by Aubrey Singer, who would later become controller of BBC2 and deputy director general, and devised and initially produced by Glyn Jones. The show had a rather inauspicious start - it was originally conceived as a temporary filler for an early evening gap in the BBC1 schedules, and there was little preparation - The show's title was only though up by Jones and his wife at home the night before the Radio Times wanted information for the show's billing. Slotting in between the early evening news and Top of the Pops, the idea was to present a broad selection of new inventions and developing technologies, from the important to the most trivial, via studio demonstrations and films. Putting the emphasis firmly on what Singer called the "gee whiz factor" of science and technology, the programme's style was positive and optimistic about technology, in tune with the prevailing mood of the times.

THE PRESENTERS: For the first twelve years of its life, the 'World was the domain of BBC commentator and ex-Spitfire pilot Raymond Baxter, who had worked with Singer and Jones on a number of previous science-based programmes such as Eye on Research. Baxter was old school BBC, plummy of voice and stiff of lip, but could lend himself to a spot of light-hearted quizzicality when introducing some of the less serious items. Also narrating was Derek Cooper, the similarly authoritative voice of Michael Apted's 7 Up documentaries among other things. The "wild card" in the pack was James Burke. Coming from an academic, as opposed to Baxter's patrician, background, Burke, a former English teacher and interpreter at the Vatican, came to the BBC from Granada TV, and quickly made a name for himself anchoring the Beeb's coverage of major US and Soviet space launches. As far as the 'World was concerned, he cut a slightly eccentric, mad-haired figure next to his more restrained co-hosts, staring intensely trhough his specs at the camera as his head filled the screen in the extreme close-up shots utilised in sixties television. Although Baxter is remembered nowadays with great fondness, Burke stopped the early days of the 'World from being too staid and straight. He left the programme in the mid-'70s to concentrate on his quixotic - and highly successful - science documentaries, beginning with the famed Connections.

THE TITLES: A peppery Johnny Dankworth jazz workout soundtracked a montage of exciting-looking technologies, often demonstrated by 'with-it' Jackie O-haired female models, before the title appeared in a none-more-futuristic computerised typeface. Groovy!

The golden years of the 'World, or at least the incarnation that springs most readily to mind for most people, date from shortly after the introduction of colour, and the addition of new presenters to the team (see below). Now sandwiched between the 'Pops and Nationwide, the format grew incredibly popular, averaging 8-l0 million viewers by the latter part of the decade (the proportion of that figure either inherited from the 'Wide or consisting of those tuning in early for 'Pops is unknown, however). The tone and content of the programmes remained unchanged from the early days, although as the decade wore on, a slightly less optimistic, "white heat" approach inevitably began to set in. Science and technology were increasingly less seen as the panacea they previously were, and the 'World reflected this - stocking-filler inventions and new medical techniques gradually got the edge over the wonder plastics, space missions and autogyros of the old days. The popularity of the show resulted in a few extra-curricular ventures. The annual Prince of Wales Trust Award special shows were begun, in which the presenters accompanied HRH in looking at various examples of British innovation competing for the prize. In March 1978 a 500th edition special mocked up a "house of the future", demonstrating in-development gadgets that would - touch bakelite - be commonplace a few years hence.

THE PRESENTERS: It was all change in 1974, with Baxter augmented by three new presenters, introducing a more 'democratic', less upper middle class feel to the show - William Woollard, the gruff, blonde future Top gear presenter, who, while still aristocratic of accent, wore polo necks and had the air of a fashion photographer who may once have "seen" Princess Anne. The 'World's first female presenter, Judith Hann, favoured a more schoolmarmy approach, ennunciating the script deliberately and precisely, with almost balletic flourishes of the hands when it came to prizing off the outer electron shell of a model atom. The most indicative of the way the 'World, and BBC presentation in general, was headed, however, was the boyish, blow-dried Michael Rodd. If Baxter was being recast more as the headteacher, Rodd was every inch the smart-yet-affable grammar school prefect, the approachable young science teacher you wished you had at school. Although these three new recruits enabled the programme to step away from the often newsreely atmos of the old days, a couple of later additions to the team, replacing Woollard and Baxter, moved the style still further away from formality, often teetering dangerously close to self-parody. Former reporter and That's Life "nancy" Kieran Prendiville, a gangly, slightly scruffy man perpetually on the verge of turning into Douglas Adams, was one of the first to start reacting to the technology on show in a manner more akin to the viewer at home than the serious-minded boffin, which would soon come to represent the definign characteristic of the programme in the popular consciousness. Introducing a robotic arm named 'Hissing Sid' developed by the University of Reading cybernetics department (who gave us both Jimmy Saville's Fix-It chair and the infamous Kevin Warwick), Prendiville at first struggled manfully with a live demonstration of its snooker-playing skills in the standard 'World "live demo going tits up" manner, then, after a few minutes, visibly gave up and started to play the weary straight man in a sort of improvised slapstick double act. When the machine returned later in the show to attempt to stack some crockery with a suction attachment, all pretence at technological worship was dropped, and Prendiville (who would go on to write light comedy dramas for the Beeb in the '90s) had hit upon what would become the main post-Baxter characteristic of the programme - the authoritative confidence in new technology had given way to the weary, "Cuh! Wouldn't you just know it?" air of someone struggling vainly with a new video recorder, which became a hit with viewers who were wising up to the fact that the World's Fair near future of jetpacks on the moon espoused by the Baxter-era 'World just wasn't going to happen. Rodd and Hann also joined in with the eye-rolling antics whenever the gadgets failed them, but they had, at least, started off from a position of seriousness. Increasingly, comedy was become the order of the day from the off. Peter McCann was another presenter of the droll variety, ever ready to make the leap from Wollardian knitted-brow earnestness to gurning mock despair at the drop of a jam-smeard compact disc. The presenter-as-comedian approach reached its zenith when Kenneth Williams, no less, was drafted in for a brief period to test some of the more frivolous inventions ("Ooooh, look at all those micro-amps I'm generating!") and general horseplay for the regulars was encouraged - Michael Rodd even got to sing a couple of self-penned technology-related blues parodies, apropos nothing in particular. In BBC parlance, the show, while never really a serious scientific programme, was now an "institution", and could, for better or worse, do more or less what it liked.

THE TITLES: Again, this incarnation is the one most commonly associated with the 'World. To the same Johnny Dankworth tune (if it ain't broke...) the letters of the tiles were spelt out one by one in various amusingly scientific ways - as a fried egg, a collection of ball bearings, rising through mercury, cooked on a slice of toast, etc. Much reversing of film and time lapse was in evidence. Finally the whole title was spelt out in glitter, which blew away into the air. A brilliantly crafted little sequence.

Trouble was brewing for the programme as the '80s marched on, mainly because, by sticking to its original format for so long, it had painted itself into something of a corner. The space shuttle aside (which was covered enthusiastically throughout its back-of-a-Jumbo development through to the troubled launch, with the help of a returning James Burke) most of the big scientific developments were less than telegenic, and the "gee whiz" breakthroughs had largely given way to "an improved version of" a previously covered technology. Amusing Christmas specials were insituted - the first featured the gang unwrapping a studio-sized present containing tech-based gift ideas. Then, for a few years, presenters and celebrity guests took part in a Question of Sport-style light hearted quiz. 'Whatever Happened To..?', a feature on past inventions that never took off, aired briefly - The Salter Duck and the tilting train featuring heavily. And the Prince of Wales Award ceremony carried on, of course.

THE PRESENTERS: A mid-'80s revamp sent some of the (by now) old uard packing - McCann and Prendiville moved on to production and writing respectively, and Rodd jumped ship to ITV's short-lived rival sci-doc The Real World, before retiring from television to pursue business ventures like his educational software firm First Information. New kids on the block, in keeping with the fresh, more magazine-y format, were children's TV presenters Howard Stableford and Maggie Philbin. Other short-termers included a pre-ITN news Anna Ford, a post-Wildtrack Su Ingle, and Kate Bellingham. Best of all, however was the introduction of avuncular, eccentric, bewhiskered Austrian inventor Robert Alexander Baron Schutzmann von Schutzmansdorff, better known as Bob Symes, on location in his "inventor's shed", exploring various inventions of the old 'World variety with the catchphrase "it's clever, isn't it?"

THE TITLES: All change was the order of the day - in 1981 the fried egg titles were scrapped, along with Dankworth's long-serving theme. In its place came a computer-controlled camera roaming the furrows of what eventually was revealed to be a kind of brain/planet plastic model, interspersed with little techy close-ups - a quartz crystal, a computer wireframe cityscape etc. Accompanying this was a synthesized piece by Martin Cook and Richard Denton, all proto-techno riffing and heavenly choirs, sounding like a cross between Jean Michel Jarre and their own Great Egg Race sig tune. Then in 1985 it all changed again - the globe became an odd blue golf ball, and goldfish, a computerised head made of bricks, and, most dated of all, a colourised Charlie Chaplin film all conspired to create what was hoped to be the new, 'brighter' image for the 'World. The theme was changed yet again, this time to a ghastly synthetic trumpet fanfare, which brought to mind the likes of Antiques Roadshow or Miss Marple rather than an examination of cutting edge technology. Not good.

As the '80s eneded, so the '90s began for the 'World, under the aegis of Howard S. But a new producer in 1994 meant a year zero revamp. Out went virtually all the '80s presenters, out went studio demonstrations and in came packages linked by Carol Vorderman on a high stool in a small blank studio, although later on, as if in admissiong of defeat, the studio demos gradually crept back in. Like all popular BBC factual programmes (Top Gear, Watchdog, Holiday) it spawned a live show at the NEC and some on-screen spin offs.

THE PRESENTERS: Hann dropped out in 1994 after a record 20 years' service, to write and set up a media training centre. Stableford dropped out later, to become a 'motivational speaker' amongst other things. Carmen Pryce was the first of many nondescript short stay recruits, with the late John Diamond being the briefest, with a two weeks' stint. Carol Vorderman helmed during the mid-'90s, but was unceremoniously dumped after taking the Proctor and Gamble ad shilling. Philippa Forrester and Peter Snow (in over-zany uncle mode) made some headway back into the national consciousness during the late '90s. For the final series, some semblance of sense took hold as old-school enthusiast Adam Hart-Davis came in, but by then it was too late. The show was finally axed at the end of 2002, to little public outcry, save for a furious Raymond Baxter.

THE TITLES: Plenty of changes - ditched the blue and white 80's look and went straight for an unmemorable wierd-shadowy-objects-on-wire-mesh affair, accompanied by an overly drummy theme tune and no programme title, then an electro-orchestral sequence starring a Nirvana-style swimming baby.