THE future of the television licence is under scrutiny. During heated exchanges in a Commons committee, some MPs told the BBC's York-educated director general Greg Dyke that the fee was a "poll tax" which had no place in the modern, multi-channel world.

Mr Dyke, by contrast, believes there is no alternative way to fund public broadcasting.

The fee has certainly become an established part of British life: it dates back to 1922. That was when the first licence fee for radio was issued. Cost - ten shillings (or 50p).

Ever since that date the authorities have had the task of collecting the cash - and cracking down on licence fee dodgers.

That has just become a little easier. TV Licensing has launched its new generation of detector vans, the tenth version to hit the streets.

For the first time the detector vans will use GPS satellite technology to track down targeted addresses. They can tell if a TV is in use in as little as 20 seconds.

And once the television is detected, the equipment - which works from up to 60 metres away - can pinpoint the actual room that the television set is in.

It is a far cry from the first detector vans rolled out in 1926. These were used to find people with wireless sets but without licences - and to keep an ear open for pirate radio broadcasts too.

The first combined radio and TV licence was issued in June 1946, costing £2. But it took another six years for a TV detector van to take to the streets.

On February 1, 1952, the new van was demonstrated in front of Postmaster-General, Lord De La Warr. The detection equipment was developed at short notice at the radio experimental laboratories of the Post Office in Dollis Hill, London.

The vehicles had three horizontal loop aerials fixed on the roof which received signals from TV sets and converted them to radio waves to give audio and video information.

Lord De La Warr said people without licences were receiving free entertainment subsidised by those who had paid. He said he was determined to discover who the non-payers were, although he was sure many people had simply forgotten to get their licence.

"We are most unwilling to start a snoop campaign or to follow it up by prosecutions," he added.

The introduction of the TV detector vans went unnoticed by the Evening Press at the time, probably because television viewing was still very much a minority pursuit.

The North of England had only been granted decent television pictures the previous October, when the Holme Moss transmitter near Huddersfield was activated.

Radio still dominated: by the end of 1951, there were 12.5 million broadcasting licenses, of which only 1.2 million included television sets (motorists required a separate licence for a car radio).

But the wind of change had begun to blow: more than 67,000 new TV licences were being issued each month.

In 1952, the Evening Press's programme listings for the mass medium of radio were given much more prominence than the single channel television service.

On the day Lord De La Warr inspected the first TV detector van, here's what York viewers could watch: 3pm: Newsreel; 3.40-4.10 A Roof Over Your Head; 5.30 Children's Television; 7.30 Newsreel; 8.30 Kaleidoscope; 9.30 In The News; 10 Weather Forecast and News (sound only).

Much more interest was prompted by the visit that night of the expert team from radio's Gardener's Question Time, recording the show at York Public Library. A ten-foot welcome banner had been unfurled in honour of the green-fingered stars.

Nevertheless, electrical shops were going flat out to convert more households to the TV age. An Evening Press advert by Cussins & Light, in King's Square, York, urged parents to "Bring the youngsters to see Television Children's Hour."

Bring the youngsters along at 5.30pm on Saturday "and you can all view the programme in comfort in our Demonstration Theatre", it said, under a picture of two children staring at a tiny television screen in rapture. This was an early use of the advertising technique now known as "pester power".

An article in the Evening Press predicted that "1952 will be a vital year for this medium of entertainment". New programmes were planned, including a puppet show called "It's a Small World", the special correspondent revealed.

"Two of stage variety's biggest 'names' have embarked on solo TV programmes," the article continued. "These are crooner Donald Peers and York's own comedian Frankie Howerd."

The writer urged the broadcasters to introduce a family TV programme. "What would my selection be? Without a doubt, those irrepressible characters who give a tonic effect to my Sunday afternoon radio listening - the Lyon family."

But not all radio stars were enamoured by the prospect of television. On January 25, 1952, the Evening Press reported the misgivings of "Professor" Jimmy Edwards about both the old and the new media (although he was soon to be a star of both).

In a speech which echoes many people's concerns about the Internet today, he said that it was far too easy for children to eavesdrop on unsuitable material broadcast on the radio day and night - unless there was adequate parental supervision.

"But as you know an even greater menace is lurking across the border," he went on. "Preparing to insinuate its way into your lives is the tangible terror of television.

"The television screen has an hypnotic effect - there is a horrible fascination about it. And as you sit there with the curtains drawn and the light switched out you need a very strong will not to remain until the evening's programme is over.

"In fact it has been said that television is rapidly taking the place of entertainment."

What we know now, of course, is that TV took over the world.

But there are still people watching without a licence.

The bad news for them is they are now being tracked by satellite.

Updated: 11:07 Monday, July 21, 2003