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THE HEART AND THE EYE: EDWARD R. MURROW
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LAWRENCE SHELDON RUDNER

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THE HEART AND THE EYE: EDWARD R. MURROW

AS BROADCAST JOURNALIST, 1938-1960

BY

Lawrence Sheldon Rudner

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of English (Program in American Studies)

1977

ABSTRACT

THE HEART AND THE EYE: EDWARD R. MURROW
AS BROADCAST JOURNALIST, 1938-1960

BY

Lawrence Sheldon Rudner

Edward Roscoe Murrow was a pioneer broadcast
journalist whose distinct personalized style as a radio
and television reporter contributed to the development of
broadcast reporting in the United States. Murrow began
his career with the young Columbia Broadcasting System
(CBS) in 1935 in a nonbroadcast capacity. By 1938, however,
Murrow was forced by circumstances to become a full-time
correspondent during the Austrian crisis. As one of two
CBS radio correspondents stationed in Europe, Murrow's
style developed as a natural response to the conditions he
was observing. He was, as his letters and broadcasts
reveal, convinced that radio journalism must deal with the
way in which events touched the lives of individuals caught
up in those events. In so doing, Murrow began to focus
almost all of his report—broadcasts on individuals and not,
as many of his contemporaries in broadcasting believed, on

the larger headline stories.

Lawrence Sheldon Rudner

Murrow's broadcast reporting during the late 19305
and throughout the Second World War was heard by millions
of Americans via short-wave broadcasts from London. He
felt that the impact of any particular broadcast was a
direct result of his own participation in an event. At
the same time, a study of his work reveals Murrow's habit
of reporting the news in an impressionistic manner: the
small details, the atmOSphere, and the role of the individ-
ual human being were all brought together in order to
explain an event. As his correSpondence states clearly,
Murrow wanted to transport his audience to the scene he
was observing at the moment. He discovered that to accom-
plish this goal, radio journalism had to become a visceral
experience for the listener. Edward Roscoe Murrow wanted
to capture a moment of time using an aural medium.

Murrow was present at the birth of television news
in the late 19403. He helped to form TV's first docu-
mentary news series, "See It Now," and believed it possible
to use the same stylistic approach to visual journalism as
he had used in radio. His television news series, as well
as his radio commentaries, focused in on events in order to
inform an audience about pressing public problems. Once
again, Murrow wanted to show his audience that events have
more meaning when they are shown affecting the lives of
individuals. Television, however, did not prove to be the

most Open forum for the kind of probing journalism Murrow

Lawrence Sheldon Rudner

engaged in with his "See It Now" series. While Murrow was
producing and writing incisive public affairs programs
throughout the 19505, CBS was becoming increasingly appre—
hensive about the repercussions Murrow's work was having.
CBS was afraid of controversy, especially after Murrow
examined the impact of McCarthyism on American society
during a series of explosive and influential television
documentaries. Murrow continued to present public affairs
programming the network considered too controversial within
the framework of commercial television. By the fall of
1960, Murrow left CBS after he co-produced one of TV's
most famous documentary films, "Harvest of Shame."

"The Heart and the Eye: Edward R. Murrow as Broad-
cast Journalist, 1938-1960," examines the sources of
Murrow's style and the impact that style has on the devel-
Opment of broadcast journalism. The author has relied
exclusively on primary material discovered in the Edward R.
Murrow Papers housed at The Fletcher School, Tufts
University. The material used (personal and corporate
correspondence, radio and television transcripts and
recordings) clearly shows why Murrow chose to follow the
dictates of a personal form of reporting. At the same time,
one sees how Murrow was convinced that even the less
important news events had a kind of universal importance.
Edward R. Murrow involved all of his senses in his report-

ing because he felt this was the only way to capture the

Lawrence Sheldon Rudner

imagination and attention of an audience far removed from
an event. But as his youthful euphoria began to diminish
after confronting network attempts to censor and control
broadcast journalism, Murrow saw that the future of broad-
casting was endangered by the men who controlled the medium.
The career of Edward R. Murrow points to the great
promise as well as the severe shortcomings of commercial
broadcasting in the United States. Murrow shared the
promise as a young radio reporter; and he saw the promise
evaporate as the mass medium he helped to develop began to

see itself as a purely profit-making institution.

This work is dedicated, with
great love and reSpect, to my
parents, Marion and Edward
Rudner, and to their grandson,
Joshua Michael Rudner.

ii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have been greatly assisted in my work by generous
grants from the-Graduate Student Council at Michigan State
University and from Lakeland College. I am grateful to the
staff of the Edward R. Murrow Library, Tufts University,
for providing me with a place to work during the summer of
1975 as well as making the Murrow Papers accessible.

My doctoral committee has given me much needed
criticism and advice over the years I was a graduate stu-
dent at the university. Professors Douglas T. Miller,
Russel B. Nye, and Arthur T. Weld have known me for many
years; I, in turn, have learned more from them than I
could ever list here;

So many people helped, cajoled, and literally com-
forted me during the low points, that I feel a special
sense of gratitude to each of them: Dr. Lee Thornton was
present when I first began this work, listened at odd
hours as it was being written, and always gave of himself;
Professors Thomas Baldwin and John Abel suggested many
ideas; Professor Stephen Gould of Lakeland College was
both a critic and a good friend; Linda and Joe Sobkowski

were friends when lots of things were coming together;

iii

Earl Rudner pushed me when times were tough; Eleanore and
Burt Greenberg are what families are all about; and my
parents gave all the love and support a son could ever ask
for.

Without Lauren Rudner, very little would have been
possible. It has been my greatest pleasure to live with

her over the years.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER
I. THE BOY FROM POLECAT CREEK . . . . . .
II. "FOR FURTHER DETAILS"--RADIO NEWS COMES
OF AGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
III. BORN TO A NEW ART: THE LONDON YEARS . .
IV. A NEW FORUM: CHALLENGE AND RESPONSE . .
V. THE FORUM EXPANDS . . . . . . . . . . .
VI. DEPARTURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

BIBLIOGRAPHY O O O O O I O O O O O O O O O O O

Page

11

35
72
132
183
240
260

INTRODUCTION

For in the immediate world, everything is to be dis-
cerned, for him who can discern it, and centrally and
simply, without either dissection into science, or
digression into art, but with the whole of conscious-
ness, seeking to perceive it as it stands: so that
the aspect of a street in sunlight can roar in the
heart of itself as a symphony . . . and all of con-
sciousness is shifted from the imagined, the revisive,
to the effort to perceive simply the cruel radiance
of what is.

James Agee, Let Us Now Praise
Famous Men

 

 

Friday, November 25, 1960, was the day after
Thanksgiving. On that day, President Eisenhower had just
returned from a three day hunting trip, offered the country
his "blessings" on the holiday just past, and prepared to
take a few days off from his "pressing duties of office."1
At the same time, John F. Kennedy, President-elect, was
celebrating both his recent electoral victory and the birth
of his new son. He, too, offered to "his fellow citizens"

best wishes for a bountiful year "in this country so filled

with abundance."2 The New York Times' lead editorial on

 

this day stated that the beauty of Thanksgiving lay in its

appeal to "almost every American, for whom, it may be said,

life is very good."3

The three major American television networks had
good reason to be thankful. Each network was enjoying a
profitable season. The quiz scandals of 1958-59 were
finally fading from public and Congressional memory, and
network executives were pleased with the prestige they
received from their recent coverage of the Presidential
campaign and the presentation of the Kennedy-Nixon debates
during prime-time television hours. The 1960 television
season was, as the major broadcast trade magazine observed,
"getting better all the time."4 *

But on this particular Friday evening, the Columbia
Broadcasting System presented, with some trepidation, a
public affairs program called "CBS Reports," a program

5 CBS had adver-

devoted to "crucial issues of our times."
tised the program as "a chance to meet the millions of men
and women whose life and whose labor are America's 'Harvest
of Shame.'" At 9:30 P.M. "CBS Reports" began--with no
lead-in narration, no title, but with several minutes of
film footage. Four black men, a few standing on open,
flat-bed trucks, were yelling out instructions to a group

of milling men and women, each one of whom was also black:

First Hawker: Seventy over here. Over here . . .
seventy cents. All day talkin'.

 

Second Hawker: Over here . . . seventy cents a day.
We're payin' today. We'll pay more and the longest
hours. Seventy cents. Here we is today.

 

Third Hawker: Seventy cents today. Seventy cents
all day jumpin' . . . all you have to do is . . . .

 

Fourth Hawker: Eight cents a box and we guarantee
you if you pull today you'll have eleven dollars in
your pocket.

 

As the hawkers' instructions were repeated, the
camera slowly panned over the faces of the men and women
whose expressions revealed hopeless stares as acute as
their apparent poverty. Then, the narration began:

This scene is not taking place in the Congo. It has
nothing to do with Johannesburg or Capetown. It is
not Nyassaland or Nigeria. This‘Florida. These are
citizens of the United States, 1960. This is a shape—
up for migrant laborers.
The hawkers are chanting out the going piece-rate at
the various fields. This is the way the humans who
harvest the food for the best-fed people in the world
get hired. One farmer looked at this and said, 'We
used to own our slaves, now we just rent them.‘
The deep, concerned voice of the narrator, Edward R. Murrow,
was immediately recognizable. His voice had been a fixture
in American broadcasting for over twenty years. "This is
an American story," Murrow continued, "a 1960 Grapes of
Wrath":
It is the story of the men and women who work 136 days
a year, and average nine hundred dollars a year. They
travgl in buses. They ride trucks. They follow the
sun.
In the fifty-four minutes of the television decumentary,
"Harvest of Shame," Edward R. Murrow, narrator-reported,
and David Lowe, producer—reported, presented to the
American public an emotional plea for a forgotten, impover-
ished segment of American society. The message of the

documentary was clearly stated by Murrow who, only three

weeks before the final editing of the film, was asked by

Low to contribute to the final writing of the narration.
"The migrants have no lobby," Murrow wrote,
And only an enlightened, aroused, and perhaps angered
public opinion can do anything about the migrants . .
. . They do not have the strength to influence legis-
lation. Maybe we do.

Reaction to "Harvest of Shame" was strong. New

York Times TV critic Jack Gould wrote that the program

 

"was uncompromising in its exposure . . . while the faces
of the migratory workers were an editorial on a national
disgrace. Murrow and CBS left no doubt of where they

stood.8 Saturday Review critic Robert Lewis Shayon added
9

 

that "Murrow pricked our post-Thanksgiving consciences."
While the critics hailed the documentary, farm lobbyist
groups condemned the program as a pernicious attempt to
slander American agriculture. They complained so loudly
that, as "CBS Reports" producer Fred Friendly wrote, "the
pressure on the sponsor (Philip Morris, Inc.) was so
intense that they buckled and sent agents through the
agricultural community apologizing for the program."10
Although CBS President Frank Stanton had congratulated the
"CBS Reports" unit for the program ("I have never been so
proud of CBS"), William Paley, Chairman of the Board at
CBS and a powerful figure in American broadcasting, was
not as pleased. "I liked everything but the ending,"

Paley told Friendly.11

The "ending" that Paley disliked
was Murrow's plea for action to alleviate the plight of

the migrant workers.

"A communication system is totally neutral,"
Murrow once observed. "It will broadcast filth or inspi-
ration with equal facility and will speak the truth as
loudly as it will speak the falsehood. It is, in sum, no

more or less than the men who use it."12

For over twenty
years, Edward Roscoe Murrow had used broadcasting as a
medium through which the world could be reported and
interpreted. He joined the fledgling news division at CBS
in 1935, just prior to the events that would rock European
and American complacency toward Nazi aggression in EurOpe.
He was originally hired by CBS in a nonbroadcast capacity
as "Director of Educational Talks." Yet, within two years
he was actively reporting as a radio reporter from London,
a post he held for eight years. From 1938 until his
departure from CBS in l961—-when he left broadcasting to
become head of the United States Information Agency--
Murrow delivered thousands of radio reports from England.
He organized, along with Fred W. Friendly, the first and
most famous television documentary news series and, in so
doing, he reached millions of listeners and viewers with
his own very personal kind of journalism.

"All I can say I've done," Murrow noted in a 1958
radio interview, "was to have agitated the air for ten or
fifteen minutes"; but when he was reporting he was, quite
consciously, doing much more. "DeSpite all of the talk

about me," he wrote to one of his former teachers, "I

guess I am really trying to chronicle the lives of human
beings caught up in history, and that's all I'm trying to

do."13

Murrow tried to render history through his chosen
medium as a series of events having meaning only when they
were interpreted through an individual's life. He Operated
in much the same manner as the documentary photographer
who captures an historical moment reflected through the
image of a pair of hands, the reclining body of a wounded
soldier, or a bare table in a migrant family's'home.
Murrow's style as a broadcast reporter consistently sought
to enlarge public understanding of an event by reducing it
to its most basic component: its meaning for one human
being,’whether during the wartime years in London, the
liberation of the living-dead survivors of Buchenwald, or
a falsely maligned individual during the political paranoia
of the McCarthy years in America. "My style is really
very simple," Murrow once observed. "I want little more
than to transport my audience to a scene and they can make
of it what they want."14
He entered broadcasting at a time when radio
reporting was an ill-defined craft. No one within the
growing radio industry really understood what broadcast
journalism should be, the stylistic rules that applied
for the new medium, or how radio reporting might differ

from print reporting. The crisis in European politics in

the late 19305 changed everything, however. The immediacy

of the events themselves conformed to the most attractive
promise of radio broadcasting--instantaneous coverage of
events. It was the war which finally acted as the midwife
for broadcast journalism, and Murrow was there at its
birth. Of all the radio reporters who covered the Second
World War, Murrow received the greatest acclaim for his
sensitive reporting. "Until Ed Murrow came along quite by
accident," CBS news chief Paul White remembered,

We in radio news were not very distinguished. He

made reporting via radio something different, new

and vital . . . and he gave it a soul, a heart,

that it never had before. The beauty of the whole

business was that he did it all with such simplicity

and such feeling for what he was reporting.

The study that follows will deal with the develop-
ment of Murrow's style as a broadcast reporter. Through
an analysis of hundreds of radio and television reports,
along with important primary material discovered in the
Murrow Papers, now housed at Tufts University, the author
hOpes to show how the profession of broadcast journalism
was enhanced by Murrow's reporting style to the extent
that the craft became art and the art became communication.
Murrow was convinced that what he was doing was little
more than what any competent reporter does: a marshalling
of the facts in a coherent manner so that they can be
understood by a larger audience. But to the extent that

his reputation far exceeded that of his contemporaries,

his work deserves careful study.

When Murrow died in 1965 after an extremely painful
bout with lung cancer, Eric Sevareid, a close colleague at
CBS, knew that an era had ended and that broadcast journal-

ism would never be the same again:

Ed was an artist, passionately alive; living each
day as if it were his last, absorbing and radiating
the miseries and glories of his generation. The
men, the machines, the battles, the beauties--the
poetry of America was in his bones.

He was a shooting star, and ge will live in his
afterglow a very long time.1

It is, then, the man who elicited such praise, whose style

influenced all of those around him, who is at the center

of this study.

FOOTNOTES

1The New York Times, November 25, 1960, p. l.

21bid., p. 2.

3Ibid., p. 35.

4Broadcasting, November 3, 1960, p. 5.

5Columbia Broadcasting System (cited hereafter as

CBS) promotional leaflet, circulated to CBS network affili-
ates in January, 1960, "What to Expect from CBS News,"
Publicity File, Edward R. Murrow Papers, Edward R. Murrow
Center of Public Diplomacy, Fletcher School, Tufts Univer-
sity, Medford, Mass. (cited hereafter as Murrow Papers).

6CBS television broadcast, "Harvest of Shame,"

November 25, 1960, CBS Reports File, Murrow Papers.

71bid.

8The New York Times, November 26, 1960, p. 43.

gsaturday Review, December 17, 1960, p. 29.

10Fred W. Friendly, Due to Circumstances Beyond

Our Control (New York: Vintage Books, 1968), p. 122.

llIbid.

12Edward R. Murrow (cited hereafter as ERM)

Speech, delivered before the National Association of Broad-
casters, April 2, 1962, Murrow Speeches File, Murrow
Papers.

10

13Letter from ERM to Ida Lou Anderson, May 12,
1940, Personal CorreSpondence File D, Murrow Papers.

14Letter from ERM to Paul, January 30, 1942,
Personal Correspondence File G, Murrow Papers.

15Memorandum from Paul White to William S. Paley,
October 3, 1945, Personal Correspondence File G, Murrow
Papers.

l6CBS broadcast, "CBS TV Evening News," April 27,
1965. Sevareid's eulogy came at the end of the regular
evening news show. Walter Cronkite, Lyndon Johnson, and
Charles Collingwood also paid tribute to Murrow on that
evening's broadcast.

CHAPTER I

THE BOY FROM POLECAT CREEK

"I have never forgotten where I came from,"

Edward R. Murrow wrote shortly before his death. "The
land was a part of me, the people were in my heart, and it
all defined my vision for a long time to come."1 One of
Murrow's great friends was the American poet, historian,
and folksinger, Carl Sandburg, who, in a letter to the
broadcaster in early 1953, noted that Murrow's "famous
style" was a natural result of his birthright:

I really think, Ed, that what you are now is simply

part of what you came from. You know, being around

simple folks who loved the earth, who were originals

who built this place out of sweat and life and loss.

You knew them, listened to them and, I think, never

forgot them. Maybe they caused you to look at the

world in a very special way.2
"I think you're right," Murrow replied to Sandburg. "That
land formed a big chunk of me as well as the language that
everyone used, in that beautiful, lilting way, to tell
about himself."3

The land that Murrow remembered so fondly was

North Carolina where, on April 25, 1908, in the tiny vil-
lage of Polecat Creek, Ethel Lamb Murrow gave birth to

her third son, Egbert Roscoe Murrow. The beautiful

11

12

country surrounding Polecat Creek, with its gently rolling
hills and dark, rich soil, had been farmed by Murrows
since the Civil War. Murrow's father, Roscoe, was a "large,
easygoing man" who believed in the values of a simple life,
hard work, and direct speech. Roscoe Murrow owned nearly
320 acres of fertile farmland, a large frame house, and
derived great pleasure fishing from the banks of the
Polecat Creek. Several years after his father's death,
Murrow remembered with great affection the way in which
Roscoe would "always explain in great detail" how good
it felt to be part of a community of people who cherished
the land and their traditions.4

Murrow's mother, Ethel Lamb, was a deeply religious
woman, a descendant of Scots transplanted in North America
before the American Revolution. His ancestors became
established farmers, contributed to the building of several
communities, and furnished many sons to the Confederate
cause. Although she was fully entitled to claim member-
ship in any number of patriotic women's groups, Ethel Lamb
Murrow preferred her privacy and the solitude of Bible
study. "She ruled by copy-book maxim," Murrow's biographer
wrote about Ethel Lamb, "and she hOped that Egbert, her
youngest, would become a preacher."5 Despite her strict
moral code, Ethel Lamb was a gentle woman, a member of the
Society of Friends, and she passed on to her family the

pacifism and tolerance of Quaker teachings.

13

Her youngest son grew up surrounded by the oftold
history of his ancestors and the vivid tales he heard from
his maternal grandfather about the Civil War. Roscoe
Murrow's sons--three, including Egbert-—were forced to
work the land along with their father, but were also
allowed to roam free in the hills. "There was always
time for personal freedom," Murrow remembered, "and also
for hunting and listening to the local people talk about
their lives and their dreams."6

In 1914, Roscoe Murrow was forced to leave North
Carolina because of his wife's failing health. He sought
a gentler climate for Ethel Lamb and a new life for himself
in Washington state, eventually settling on a farm south
of Bellingham. Within a year Roscoe was working full-time
as a brakeman on a local railroad that served the logging
companies. He introduced his sons to camping in the great
forests, giving them, Murrow noted, "an appreciation of
real estate, in the natural, not the legal sense."7

Murrow's early education was a product of the local
two-room schoolhouse near his home, and, in the evenings,
of his mother's Bible study sessions. Ethel Lamb's fervent
belief in the necessity of teaching her sons "that toler-
ance is the key to the good life" became the prime lesson
in the Murrow household. When her youngest son was old
enough to read, she "almost beamed with joy" when he read

passages aloud from the King James Bible. She derived

14

her greatest pleasure from hearing the simple eloquence
"of good, simple words read with conviction and meaning."8
"I loved to escape to the woods," Murrow remembered
about his boyhood in Washington. "I would read books about
history, declaim great orations to an audience of lumber-

jacks, and just think."9

When he was old enough to handle
part-time jobs in the logging camps, his father used his
influence to see that his son received "another kind of
education" from the men who inhabited and worked the great
timberlands near Bellingham. Murrow grew to love these
men, both for the stories they told and—-much to Ethel
Lamb's dislike--for the "vivid and mighty direct way they
had in the telling."lo .
One of Murrow's most vividly remembered impressions
was of the labor troubles that broke throughout the north-
west region's lumber camps. For some time the Industrial
Workers of the World had been successfully organizing the
migrant lumberjacks, exerting a great deal of effort
appealing to "all those workers who their blood and sweat
are being pounded down to less than animals." The I.W.W.'s
message to the lumberjacks was simple and direct: "One
Big Union" would protect them from the exploiting timber-
land owners. "Here were these men," Murrow wrote years
after, "singing these fantastic songs, gathering in peOple
from all over, telling them that society could be cured if

all

only there was a will to do so. The young Murrow saw

15

how the migrant lumberjacks were treated by their employers,
in conditions that were often grim and dangerous, while
working for subsistence wages. At the same time, he wit-
nessed some of the violence that occurred in the summer of
1918 when union organizing efforts were met with violence
by the camp owners. "I'll never forget," he wrote in
college, "the faces of those men who were so badly
treated."12

As a student at Bellingham's Edison High School,
Murrow was actively involved in school affairs, both as a
budding politician and debater. He read constantly,
especially American history; but he found his other sub-
jects "boring and senseless." Although he had to maintain
a series of part-time jobs while he was in school, he
would "escape to the woods to hunt and fish and yell a
lot," and yet his natural charm was such that his fellow
students elected him to every school office including the
senior class presidency. "A man in the world's new fashion
planted," read the inscription under his 1925 senior class
photograph, "that hath a mint of phrases in his brain."13

Ethel Lamb wanted him to attend college when he
graduated, seeing in the tall, handsome boy "a good deal
of talent for getting on and reading." But money was hard
to come by in the Murrow household, and the new graduate
decided to take off one year to earn money to help pay his

way through his first year of college. The job he chose

16

was a natural one for someone who had spent his youth
around timber camps, for he was quickly hired as a timber
survey crew member and was soon charting new timber pr0p-
erties throughout the Olympic peninsula. "It was one of
the most enjoyable years of my life, learning how to run a
compass and sketching topography as well as acquiring an

14 He worked with a small

extensive profane vocabulary."
survey crew that Spent months in the woods, hiking through
vast virgin forests, and meeting the native Indian pOpu-
lations in the area. "There is a naturalness to everything
here," he wrote home, "that simply overwhelms me."15
In the fall of 1926, having saved enough from his
earnings for at least two years of college, Murrow enrolled
in the freshman class at Washington State College in Pull-
man. He was not sure what he would do with his life and
"sort of aimlessly" enrolled in the business school without
having, as he remembered, "any damn interest in such
stuff."16
He soon became actively involved in student activ—
ities as well as maintaining part-time jobs as a dish-
washer and stagehand for the college. After completing
one semester "as the worst business student at WSC," he
changed his major emphasis of study to speech and theater.
Enamored of the theater since his high school days, he

became an active member of the college's drama society,

taking "any part that was offered." "God, how I loved

17

Speaking aloud to peOple," he wrote to his mother, "giving
them all a part of me . . . becoming different people,
using language as an emotional tool."17
It was during his freshman year that Murrow came
into contact with one of the major personal influences in
his life, a teacher and friend who would guide the young
student throughout college as well as during his early
years as a broadcast journalist. Ida Lou Anderson, a
speech and drama instructor crippled by infantile paralysis,
took Murrow under her wing, reassured him when he felt dis-
couraged. In letters as well as in "hours spent talking,"
she led him to believe "in the beauty of spoken language
as a form of communication that becomes poetry." "She
demanded not excellence so much as integrity," Murrow

recalled about Miss Anderson, "and this was passed on to

her students, and especially to me, with irresistable

Under the watchful tutelage of Miss Anderson,
Murrow took to his studies in speech and rhetoric with a
natural flair that surprised many of his fellow students.
"I remember how he would practice his speeches aloud,"
one of his classmates remembered, "and the way he always

"19 But he

wanted to sway us by the use of language alone.
was also develOping a lifelong interest in political

philoSOphy, seeing that "complex messages could be recast

18

simply into easily understandable language if one Spent the
emotional energy and time."

Murrow would Spend hours alone in Miss Anderson's
office, practicing his Speeches and, as he told his room-
mate, "being continually conscious of any criticism avail-
able." She imbued her young protege with "strong feelings"
for the language and made him believe that he had both

20 She felt that Murrow, as

talent and critical abilities.
her favorite student, should live his life in "the most
heroic of ways, by seeking out difficult Situations in a

fashion worthy of your courage."21

"In explaining the
world's troubles," she wrote to Murrow while he was a
senior, "a sense of concentration on one person's travail
in a focused manner can do more to persuade others than
anything else." It was a lesson the "best speech student
at Washington State College" never forgot.22
Between each one of his college years Murrow
returned to the lumber camps around his home, "finding
great pleasure as an accepted member of that company of
wild, free men, who always knew what they wanted."23
When he returned to campus he was a whirlwind of activity:
participating in theater productions, serving as cadet
commander of the campus R.O.T.C., working several part-
time jobs, "and studying in between everything else." He

became widely known throughout the collegiate debating

circuit. By the time he received his degree in 1930, he

19

had won numerous campus honors including election to Phi
Beta Kappa. His classmates would remember him as one of
the few students "who literally cherished his instructors."
He left Washington State College "with great determination,
but also with great sadness." He was serious beyond belief
in those years," his former roommate noted. "He didn't
mind being told he was in error, but he did mind being told

that what he thought wasn't important."24

The class of 1930, Washington State College, gradu-
ated just in time to face a growing economic depression
that seriously eroded job prospects. Murrow was much
luckier than most of his classmates. During his senior
year, he had been elected to the presidency of the National
Student Federation and was invited to Spend a year in New
York City running the national office. In June of 1930 he
arrived in New York, "with total assets of 40 dollars and
certain debts," coming to a job which offered only a small
living allowance but with the prospect of being allowed to
travel around the country as well as in Europe. He was
not certain what he would do with his "newly minted degree
in Speech," but he recognized his natural aptitude for
working with students. Shortly after he settled into his
new job, he began to talk about working in education, "as

some sort of administrator."25

20

For the next three years, he worked diligently for
the cause of international student cooperation. He arranged
exchange visits for students between American and European
universities, and was instrumental in promoting one of the
first American student tours of the Soviet Union. He even
managed to include himself on a budget student tour of
Europe during the summer of 1931. AS chief executive
officer of a major student federation, he felt that he had
to "devote himself to speaking out for the cause of intel-
lectual freedom." Although his position dictated that he
try to remain as apolitical as possible, he became increas-
ingly vocal in his condemnations of "students who become
pawns in the hands of nationalistic powers." "This job
has become a graduate school for me," he wrote to his
mother. "I am learning about politics, peOple, and human
nature; the latter is beginning to worry me a bit."26

Always in demand as a speaker at the various stu-
dent meetings he attended, Murrow found that he was well-
received as "something of a student celebrity, who con-

27 While

stantly preaches about student cooperation."
fully aware of the growing economic and social misery in
his own country, he was too involved with his own work,

"sorting out the affairs of the world" as he dramatically
stated, to devote much time to domestic affairs. "He was

awfully serious about what he was doing," a friend of his

noted, "and he was always so involved in everything about

21

the world and what was going to happen to all of us."28

During his first year as NSF president, he nearly worked
himself to the point of exhaustion, and yet he willingly
accepted nomination and election to a second term in
office.29
Thus with his growing reputation as a national
student leader, Murrow believed that his future would
involve a commitment to education in one form or another.
While considering what he would actually do upon the
expiration of his second term, he was offered a salaried
position as assistant to the director of the Institute of
International Education, an organization jointly supported
by the Rockefeller and Carnegie foundations. Under the
leadership of the noted political scientist and educator,
Stephen Pierce Duggan, the IIE promoted international
student contacts, arranged for exchange professorships
between EurOpean and American universities, and supplied
detailed memoranda for the League of Nations on comparative

30 Duggan thought highly of his newly

educational systems.
chosen assistant, having been thoroughly impressed with
the recommendations he received about Murrow from educa-
tional administrators and students. "He had an aura of
energy about him," Duggan wrote in an evaluation of Murrow,

"that was incredible; but most importantly, he had a way

of looking at problems I found fascinating, always being

22

concerned how individuals would be affected by a particular

problem.31

Murrow's job with the IIE required a good deal of
travel in Europe and America. The Institute was in the
process of preparing a series of reports dealing with the
erosion of academic freedom in EurOpe under the various
fascist regimes. Murrow was responsible for preparing the
bulk of these reports concerning "the status of free
enquiry in EurOpean universities." He became increasingly
angered and frightened by what he called "the continuing
menace of political intrusion in the intellectual centers

«32

of Germany and Italy. He and Duggan would Spend days

laboring over a Single report, with the elder teacher

33

acting as critic as well as observer. "He helped to

improve my style and critical abilities," Murrow remembered,
"and gave me a continuing seminar on international politics
and philoSOphieS."

I began to learn how difficult it was to deal with
problems on a grand scale. I learned how one can
negate the seriousness of a human problem by putting
it in terms of statistics. Like one of my old
teachers (Ida Lou Anderson), I found that I could
get my point across with more power if only I learned
how to reduce a problem to its most basic essence—-
namely, how one human being suffered at the hands of
political repression at, say, a European school. By
reducing a problem in this way, it is much easier to
feel the way a real person feels. This, I think, is
a good thing to learn.

Murrow was fascinated with his job and told Duggan
that it was "the best thing that ever happened to me."

But his daily routine also included answering anguished

23

letters from Jewish scholars and teachers in Austria and
Germany who were desperately trying to find academic employ-
ment at any American schools that would take them. At the
same time, he saw his idealistic notion of "international
student solidarity" being rejected by students who had once
been receptive to his ideas. The political situation in
Europe "is bound to cause a major conflict," he wrote in
one of his reports. "One can only hOpe that the madness
will eventually be cured by reason."35
Late in 1933 Murrow accepted a nonpaying position
as Assistant Secretary to the Committee in Aid of Displaced
German Scholars. With Hitler now in firm control in
Germany, the Situation for Jewish academics, as well as
for those non-Jews who dissented from the Nazi regime, was
becoming more and more dangerous. Murrow's committee was
stepping up efforts to bring these Germans to the United
States and Canada. "This work," he wrote at the time,
"contributed more to my knowledge of international politics
and the human condition in this century than I could ever

"36 Along with the great emotional burdens Murrow

hope for.
had to bare as chief correspondent for the committee, he
was also in charge of raising and distributing millions of
dollars to aid in the effort. He was frequently called
upon to speak about the international situation in front

of such august groups as the Council on Foreign Relations

in New York City.

24

Throughout 1934, Murrow continued to divide hiS
time between the IIE and his committee assignments. He
worked frantically, keeping long hours in his cramped New
York office. There was always a great many details demand-
ing his immediate attention, and he felt compelled to answer
all of his letters, no matter how trivial in nature. He
sensed that the situation for educators around the world
was deteriorating rapidly. He prided himself on his
stamina and devotion to his jobs. Because he felt that
time was running out for the "cause of academic freedom" in
Europe, his IIE reports grew more pessimistic in their
final evaluations. Despite his total involvement with his
work and volunteer efforts, there was yet another task to
which he had to devote his energy--one that would, within

one year, change his life's work.

Murrow was asked by the "Director of Educational
Talks" at the Columbia Broadcasting System to host a series
of "radio chats" on international education. He finally
agreed in early 1934 despite his extreme nervousness and
he managed to handle himself well on the air. "My fear
began to evaporate as soon as I began Speaking about the
subject that I knew best," he remembered about his first
broadcast. "I was terribly impressed with the entire

37

set-up of modern radio." Murrow prepared and gave three

fifteen minute talks. Each one dealt with educational

25

developments around the world, liberally sprinkled with
allusions to John Dewey and Thomas Jefferson.38 He was so
pleased with the results of his first attempts as a "radio
personality," that, as he wrote to his fiance, Janet
Brewster, "If I get the time, I would like to do some more
broadcasting."39
He continued with his administrative work through
1934, finding time to marry and to visit Washington state
"as a sort of renewal for my soul." With his new wife,
Murrow Spent time in North Carolina. He visited his rela-
tives who were still farming "and talking in that lyrical

"40 He returned to his job with the IIE

way I love to hear.
expecting to spend the rest of his life as an educational
administrator hoping, in time, to become affiliated with a
university. In the fall of 1935, however, Fred Willis,
"Educational Director" at CBS and assistant to William
Paley, chief executive of the young radio network,
approached Murrow about a job opening. He encouraged
Murrow to apply for the newly vacated position of "CBS
Director of Talks," a nonbroadcasting position the network
created in order to provide "cultural programming." After
some hesitation, Murrow applied. He was interviewed by
Edward Klauber, a gruff and demanding vice-president, and
was selected for the job over his nearest competitor,

journalist Raymond Gram Swing.

26

Murrow accepted the job "with high hOpes for the
future," although he realized that he would have little
chance to do any on-air broadcasting. At the same time
he was hired, another young man was brought to the network
by William Paley. Frank Stanton, a Ph.D. in "Industrial
Psychology" from Ohio State University, was a specialist
in a newly discovered research field that fascinated Paley:
radio listenership studies. The CBS president hOped that
Stanton would be able to devise measures enabling the net-
work tO "scientifically discover how tO increase CBS'

"41 Both Murrow and

appeal to listeners and advertisers.
Stanton were the same age, and over the next twenty years
both would have brilliant careers in the history Of
American broadcasting. Each man would, however, deveIOp
and maintain diametrically Opposed views on the functions
and goals of the mass media.

When Murrow began working for CBS, there were over
thirty million radio sets in use in the United States and
more than Six hundred active stations. William Paley,
scion Of the "La Palina" cigar fortune, founded his net-
work Of sixteen radio stations in 1927 with an initial
investment of under two million dollars. By the time
Murrow formally joined CBS in 1935, the network had grown
more than threefold in size and had begun to realize great

profits for its stockholders. CBS was under great pressure

from the Federal Communications Commission, created in 1927

27

to regulate the radio industry, to present "responsible
public programming." The FCC required that CBS, as well
as the other major networks, the National Broadcasting
Company and the smaller Mutual Broadcasting Company,
regularly schedule "some sort Of news or public affairs

42 In order to comply with the government, CBS had

Shows."
created a small department to facilitate the develOpment
Of such programming. Prior to Murrow's arrival, CBS had
begun Short, "educational" talk shows that featured promi-
nent politicians, businessmen, literary "stars" (Paley's
favorite was George Bernard Shaw), clergy, foreign notables.
Murrow was hired tO direct this Office, avoiding, as a
memo to him in 1936 cautioned, "subjects or personalities
Of a controversial nature."43
For the next two years, Murrow was in sole charge
Of arranging most Of the educational programs and the talk
Shows at CBS. His Office took care of all the logistics
involved in broadcasting talk Shows. Since his Office was
close to the newly created news division at CBS, Murrow
frequently visited the newsroom. His visits led to an
increasing interest in the production of news programs.
His own job was administrative in nature, yet he was fas-
cinated by the possibilities for broadcasting "a new kind
Of news . . . the kind that will go beyond the headlines."

But he was deskbound and spent his time arranging three

weekly talk shows and only rarely ventured into the studios.

28

Murrow's attention tO details pleased Paley. His
growing friendship with the network's president led to
rapid promotions in the executive hierarchy. Each pro—
motion was outside Of on-air work and Murrow was growing
frustrated. He would "run Off" to the studios whenever
he had the chance and began tO send lengthy memoranda to
production personnel outlining his "ideas for public
affairs/news Shows . . . such as they are."

By 1937, there was a great deal Of interest in
improving radio journalism at CBS. The network's interest
was prompted as much by the highly pOpular and competitive
news division at NBC as by a concern for the journalistic
possibilities of radio. Surveys conducted by Stanton's
Office showed that listeners were interested in receiving
more news via radio. Since the political situation in
Europe was growing more tense with a raging civil war in
Spain and reports Of rapidly increasing German rearmament,
Paley decided that the network needed a man in Europe who
would see to the arrangement Of trans-Atlantic Short wave
broadcasts when necessary. "I want this person to be well
aware of network needs, and that we need the kind Of pro-
grams that don't get tOO heavily involved in hard news.

That's not our business yet."45

The position would require
residency in London, and Murrow, impressed with what he
called "the romantic adventure Of life in England," was

tapped by Paley for the job. The job, however, was still

29

an administrative one and would involve only rare on—air
work. Murrow accepted Paley's Offer, for he knew that
events in EurOpe were gaining momentum and that "I would
be a fOOl to Sit in New York when the world might just
blow up over there."46
In the spring Of 1937, Murrow sailed for England
to take over the European Office from CBS' part-time man
in Europe, Cesar Saerchinger. "My decision to go to
EurOpe," he wrote home, "will give me the chance tO see
and learn a great deal. I doubt very much if my tour will
last more than one year."47 Murrow underestimated his
probable tenure in England. Except for brief return visits
tO the United States, he would remain in London for the
next eight years. Within a year Of his arrival, Murrow
would be in front Of a microphone, forced by rapidly
changing international events to become a reporter instead
Of an administrator. In SO doing, he would change the
content and quality Of broadcast journalism. "I've come
a long way from Polecat Creek," he wrote his mother when
he first arrived. "But I doubt if its Spirit will ever
leave me . . . . I wonder what this has tO do with my

being in radio?"48

CHAPTER I FOOTNOTES

1Letter from Edward R. Murrow (cited hereafter as
ERM) to Lacey Murrow, September 12, 1964, Personal Corres-
pondence File F, Edward R. Murrow Papers, Edward R. Murrow
Center of Public Diplomacy, Fletcher School, Tufts Univer-
sity, Medford, Massachusetts (cited hereafter as Murrow
Papers).

2Letter from Carl Sandburg to ERM, October 12, 1953,
Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

3Letter from ERM tO Carl Sandburg, November 11,
1953, Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.
Murrow and Sandburg maintained a close relationship for
nearly twenty years. Murrow admired the North Carolina
writer greatly, finding in their common roots "a shared
appreciation of this country that comes from the soil we
both knew and still love," Letter from ERM tO Sandburg,
November 23, 1948, Personal Correspondence File D, Murrow
Papers.

4Murrow wrote a memoir Of his boyhood experiences
for a possible article, never published, tentatively titled,
"How I Grew Up," in 1955, Unpublished Writings File A,
Murrow Papers.

5Alexander Kendrick, Prime Time: The Life of
Edward R. Murrow (New York: Little, Brown & Company, 1969),
p. 69.

 

 

61bid.

7At the request Of the CBS public department in
1949, Murrow wrote a thirty-five page description Of his
years as a boy in both North Carolina and Washington.
This document also contains several pages devoted to his
mother, Ethel Lamb Murrow, Personal Biography File A,
Murrow Papers.

30

31

81bid.

9Ibid.

10Letter from ERM to Carl Sandburg, December 17,

1954, Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

11Letter from ERM to Lacey Murrow, June 16, 1947,

Personal Correspondence File D, Murrow Papers.

12Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, May 12,
1927, Personal CorreSpondence File A, Murrow Papers.

l3Kendrick, Prime Time, p. 85.

 

4Murrow, "How I Grew Up," p. 32.

15Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, October 7,
1926, Personal Correspondence File A, Murrow Papers.

16Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, June 24,

1927, Personal Correspondence File A, Murrow Papers.

l7Ibid.

18Murrow contributed an article tO a testimonial
booklet honoring his former college Speech teacher upon
her retirement in 1938 from Washington State College. His
article can be found in manuscript form in the Unpublished
Writings File, Murrow Papers.

l9Ibid.

20Ibid.

21Letter from Ida Lou Anderson to ERM, June 11,
1929, Personal Correspondence File A, Murrow Papers.

22Ibid.

23Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, August 22,
1928, Personal Correspondence File A, Murrow Papers.

24Kendrick, Prime Time, p. 108.

 

32

25Letter from ERM to Ida Lou Anderson, September 1,

1931, Personal Correspondence File A, Murrow Papers. He
also noted in the above letter his "love for being in an
academic setting, far removed from the hypocrisy Of the
outside world."

26Memorandum from ERM tO the Executive Board,

National Student Federation, April 16, 1932, National
Student Federation File, Murrow Papers. Murrow's memo-
randa tO the NSF Executive Board are collected in the
above file, they deal with his feelings for his job,
randomly collected thoughts about organizational improve-
ment, and long, discursive notes concerning student orga-
nizations, both in the United States and in Europe.

27Ibid.

28Memorandum "On Daily Activities," from ERM to

Executive Board, National Student Federation, July 2, 1932,
National Student Federation File, Murrow Papers.

29Letter from James Simmons to Executive Board,
National Student Federation, March 17, 1932, National Stu-
dent Federation File, Murrow Papers.

30The Institute Of International Education File,
Murrow Papers, contains several examples Of IIE reports:
each one is a detailed summary Of the state Of academic
freedom abroad, principally in Germany and Italy, as well
as the academic standards of EurOpean universities.

31Professor Duggan evaluated Murrow's performance

in a 1933 year-end report, Institute of International
Education File, Murrow Papers.

32Letter from ERM tO Stephen Pierce Duggan, March 1,

1934, Personal Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.

33Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, April 29,
1934, Personal Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.

34Ibid. Murrow was extremely fond Of Duggan, and

frequently wrote about him to his mother, always in praise
Of his superior at the IIE.

33

35Letter from ERM to Stephen Pierce Duggan, August 3,
1934, Personal Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.

36Letter from ERM to Paul W. White, September 27,
1940, Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

37Letter from ERM to Ida Lou Anderson, February 21,
1934, Personal Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.
Murrow frequently correSponded with his former college
speech teacher, especially after he joined CBS in 1935.
She Often wrote to him criticizing his radio delivery, and
was the first person to suggest that he Open his famous
wartime broadcasts with a powerful lead . . . "This . . .
is London." Ida Lou Anderson died in 1941.

38CBS broadcast, February 11, 1934, Broadcast
Transcript File A, Murrow Papers. .

39Letter from ERM tO Janet Brewster, February 22,
1934, Personal CorreSpondence File B, Murrow Papers.

40Letter from ERM to Stephen Pierce Duggan, July 26,
1935, Personal CorreSpondence File B, Murrow Papers.

41CBS publicity release, January 7, 1935, CBS
Publicity File, Murrow Papers.

42Federal Radio Commission (FRC) First Annual
Report (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1927), p. 8.

 

43CBS Network memorandum to ERM, January 1, 1936,
CBS Program File A, Murrow Papers. This memorandum was
written by William S. Paley who was in constant touch with
everyone who had anything to do with radio programming at
CBS.

44Letter from ERM to Edward Klauber, May 13, 1936,
Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers. Murrow
frequently sent Edward Klauber, CBS executive vice-
president, long letters with suggestions for future pro-
gramming. He chose tO write to him because Of Klauber's
long experience as a journalist with The New York Times.
Murrow, however, was one Of the few peOple at CBS who
managed to get along with Klauber--an unusually difficult
person to work for but one who, as Murrow wrote years
later, "was one of the guiding lights Of CBS in the early

 

34

days: honorable, tough, and loyal as hell," Obituary for
Edward Klauber, Unpublished Writings File, Murrow Papers.

45Letter from William S. Paley to ERM, March 2,
1937, Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

46Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, April 16,

1937, Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

47Ibid.

48Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, May 15,

1937, Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

CHAPTER II

"FOR FURTHER DETAILS"--RADIO NEWS

COMES OF AGE

From almost every land under the sun there stream in

reports Of the multiple activities Of mankind. They

crowd each other SO closely that the uninitiated will
marvel at the foresight, the ingenuity, which Shapes

them, these great facts, for the ready understanding

of the listener.

Advertisement, Yankee News
Network, 1935

I really love you S.O.B.'s, especially the way your

news Shows entertain us. The only problem, though,

is that some Of us just might want to find out some—
thing about the world, too.

Letter to CBS News, 1934

"I'll tell you what this radio news business is,"

a disgusted Detroit News reporter told his editor in 1932.

 

"It's an airy kind Of nothing. NO style. NO language
worth a damn, and lots of screaming headlines. Some
journalism."1 When Edward R. Murrow joined the Columbia
Broadcasting System in 1935, radio journalism was in its
infancy. It was scorned by print reporters as being little
more than entertainment, tolerated by radio executives to
please the newly created Federal Communications Commission,
and cut Off from use Of the national wire services who

35

 

36

feared radio as a competitor. "I doubt very much if our
network will ever push news," an NBC executive stated in
1931. "After all, this business is essentially about pro-
viding fun and entertainment; and Of course it's about

making money . . . who pays for news."2

The broadcast industry in the United States began
during the early 19205, enjoying both the enthusiastic
backing Of numerous financial investors and the visionary
promotional schemes Of men like RCA'S David Sarnoff and
Westinghouse's Harry P. Davis. By 1922 there were nearly
six hundred radio stations actively broadcasting. Two
years later over one thousand stations were on the air.
Although most radio Stations had little money to invest in
program development during this early period, the future
lay, most industry executives believed, "in being able to
use radio as a great big stage . . . one that will be
built and worshipped in the sitting rooms Of millions Of
Americans."3 2

Despite the promotional promises made by the two
largest manufacturers Of radio receivers, RCA and Westing-
house, that "radio will become the great public educator
for every good citizen," very few people in the growing
radio industry believed that such a promise would be taken
seriously. "If I wanted my radio station to spew out the

world's troubles to my listeners," one station manager

37

wrote in 1923, "I rather doubt whether they would enjoy
themselves in the evenings."4
Before 1921 there were few regularly scheduled

news programs. In August 1920 the Detroit News owned

 

station, 8MK, housed in the paper's basement, broadcast
the first news Show: the returns from the Michigan primary
election. 8MK'S Operation was at best primitive. It
provided only brief headlines about the election returns.
Those listeners who managed to tune into the station that
evening were repeatedly told that further information
"will only be available in the morning News, where all Of
the important details will appear."5 When the station's
"headline news announcer" ran out of copy tO read, he
placed the large, pan-like micrOphone next to a Victrola
and played, "for all the music lovers, light and snappy
tunes, guaranteed tO make your feet tap, tap, tap."6 A
cynical News reported, listening to 8MK's attempt at
journalism, Observed that "I sure hope this toy will never
be used for serious reporting. Maybe they will keep it
in the damn basement where it belongs."7
Within four years Of 8MK'S historic election eve
broadcast, several northeastern Stations joined together
tO provide radio news coverage Of the 1924 Republican
National Convention. In 1925 Calvin Coolidge's inaugural

address was broadcast live over a twenty-one station

hook-up. These early attempts at networking, however,

38

reserved their coverage of news only for the most "Special
and extraordinary events." There was little interest in
providing any sort Of continuous coverage of national or
international news. Some efforts were made in the mid-
19205 to develOp regular news programs at several New York
stations, but, aS one station manager Observed, "news is
something we know precious little about. We have neither
the personnel nor the resources to compete with the daily
press. Nor should we."8

By 1926 the number Of active radio stations declined
to less than five hundred. Many stations were forced Off
the air because they simply did not have enough program

material for original shows or the talent to appear on the

air. Early surveys conducted by Radio Digest, one Of the

 

first journals devoted to developments in broadcasting,
pointed out that "listeners are more and more interested in
the quality of radio programs . . . they seek entertain-
ment, but would also like to be better informed."9 Indi—
vidual stations, however, were hard-pressed by limited
financial resources and untrained production personnel.
They found it difficult to broadcast original programming.
Few stations, in fact, were even able tO maintain regular
broadcast schedules. Sensing the Obvious need for a cen-
tralized system where stations could receive well-produced
Shows, the National Broadcasting Company, the first radio

network, was established in 1926. "We will provide our

39

member stations with the best shows money can buy," an
early NBC brochure promised. "We can do this because we
have the funds, knowledge, and the vision to capture the
entire radio market."

NBC'S network programming service was inaugurated
over a twenty-five station hook-up in November 1926. Less
than two months later demand for even more programming by
Other stations led to the creation Of a second NBC network.
Company engineers named the two networks "Red" and "Blue"
as a convenience when drafting maps Of network coverage.

NBC was immediately successful with its affiliated stations.
"I think we will be able to dominate American broadcasting,"
an NBC executive stated. "If we don't, we are mighty big

fools."lo

NBC's plan for domination Of American broadcasting
was short lived, however. Less than seven months after
NBC began Operation, a third network, the Columbia Broad-
casting System, went On the air for the first time.

William S. Paley began CBS with sixteen affiliated stations,
a minimal investment, and "high hopes for the future." He
told prospective station affiliates that the country was
capable Of supporting more than one major network.11
Paley was excited by the potential of radio, seeing in
"this new and wonderful device a conduit for entertainment

and advertising messages."12 Since he was bored with

working for the family cigar business, he began to devote

40

his total energy into building up his own network into
"what I hope will be a solid competitor for the NBC
people."13
By the end Of 1927 CBS' network salesmen were

actively recruiting new stations for the fledgling network.
Their promises were grandiose. They flooded the radio
stations across the country with promotional literature
promising, in bold type, "QUALITY PROGRAMMING WHICH WE

WILL DELIVER."l4

CBS did not hold out any promises about
possible nonentertainment programming shows becoming part
of the regular schedule. But they did state that "our

active news division will always be ready to supply up-to-

the-minute news."14

The network had only a tiny news
division, however, whose major job was scanning the daily
newspapers in New York, clipping stories of "significant
import," and rewriting these stories into very brief "flash
bulletins." Bulletins were never more than ten seconds
long and they were always read by a station or network
announcer. "If the public wants to have fun listening
to the radio," another promotional leaflet stated, "then
we at CBS will certainly give it tO them, leaving the
heavier cares of the day to the doomsayers Of the press."15
With three full-time networks now providing radio
programming, the industry began to grow and prosper. New

stations were beginning tO open elaborate facilities

across the country. But much to the chagrin Of the

41

professional stations, many Of the newer stations were run
by amateurs in grocery stores or garages. With the air-
waves becoming crowded because Of the constant battle
between competing stations, the situation was chaotic.
Finally in 1927, Congress took steps tO correct "the tre-
mendous confusion in the radio industry." The Federal
Radio Act was passed to replace antiquated legislation from
1912 that dealt mainly with ship-to-shore communications.
The new act authorized the establishment Of a regulatory
body, the Federal Radio Commission, to enforce the new
rules for radio broadcasting. Stations were now required
by law to be licensed by the FRC. The Federal Radio Act
also stated, for the first time, the principle Of "public
ownership Of the airwaves.“ "The radio air waves belong
to all the people," the preamble noted, "and, as such,
constitute a kind Of natural resource held in common by
all Americans." Finally, in a key phrase, the Federal
Radio Act required that each commercial station set aside
a certain amount of time in each day for "radio shows Of a
nature designed to inform as well as entertain."16
It was this historic piece Of legislation which
marked the acceptance by the major radio networks of the
necessity to program news and public affairs Shows in their
regular schedules. The biggest Obstacle for each network,

however, was how tO Obtain the daily news and, once

42

Obtained, how to make journalism fit the Special require-

ments Of the new medium.

Government recognition Of the radio industry caused
grave concern among newspaper publishers. Surveys showed
radio advertising, particularly on the network programs,
tO be on the increase. Newspapers not only began to worry
about losing paid advertisers to what one publisher called
"this hot-shot radio business," but they feared radio might
develop as a direct competitor in disseminating news, an
area in which they held a total monopoly. Now that the
government had stipulated, via the Federal Radio Act, that
stations must begin to program news Shows, the major pub—
lishers began tO consider how they might cripple the
attempts by the networks to become competitors in the news
business.

In 1928, publishers met with the three major press
associations--the sources Of most national and international
news—-United Press International, the Associated Press,
and the Hearst-owned International News Service, to estab-
lish a policy that would severely restrict radio from
Obtaining press association news. Under the leadership of
the powerful American Newspublishers Association (ANPA),

a decision was made to provide the networks with only
"headlines, election returns, and news of supreme import-

17

ance in the form Of short news bulletins." Since the

43

networks wanted tO provide some limited coverage Of the
1928 Presidential Election returns, they were allowed to
broadcast returns furnished by the press associations. On
election night, nearly six hundred stations carried returns
and short election "informational bulletins." The networks
had to agree, however, to state, at the end Of each bul-
letin, that "further details are only available in your
daily paper." The restrictive policy Of the ANPA had the
exact Opposite effect. DeSpite the brevity Of the radio
news broadcasts that night, surveys conducted by the ANPA
demonstrated the "overwhelming popularity" Of radio's
coverage. "It has Simply created," one survey noted, "an
even more solid demand for radio news."18
Both NBC and CBS were now convinced that a market
existed for radio news. Within three days Of the election
night broadcasts, they formally requested from the press
associations a "greater, more diverse supply of news

material."19

Each wire service was under intense pressure
from the publishers and each in turn refused to sell news
tO the networks. "Radio must not receive more than the
barest information," the ANPA stated, "or else we shall
have to begin a boycott Of wire service material." The
Associated Press told Paley that "we are forced to confine
our radio output to news Of breaking headlines. NO more,

20

nO less." The networks replied by increasing their own

news coverage Of important events, though they were

44

hampered by a lack Of personnel trained in journalism and
were forced tO rely upon station announcers tO read, "with
great force and clarity," rewritten newspaper stories.21
Each network news division had a group Of peOple who spent
their days clipping stories from the major newspapers.
"Clipping news was the only way we had to get stories,"
one CBS executive wrote. "It may have been a bit dishonest,
but so were the attempts Of the publishers to keep us out
Of the market."22
From 1928 until 1932, network radio news continued
tO plead with the press associations and the ANPA for a
compromise arrangement. Yet with each attempt at com-
promise the ANPA grew more adamant in its refusals. Both
the ANPA and the major newspaper publishers noted with
great alarm the growing national popularity Of radio. They

feared, above all, that they would be "scooped," as the

publishers of the Chicago Tribune stated, "by our 'brothers'
23

 

who make their living in radio." Finally, with the 1932
election promising to be an exciting race between Hoover
and Roosevelt--"A race just meant to be covered by radio,"
Paley stated—~CBS decided to provide even more election
night coverage than in 1928. Paul White, newly hired head
Of "CBS News Division," promised that the network would
"pour out the returns, put together by our own people . . .

24

and to hell with the ANPA." Plans called for the

cancellation Of regular evening broadcasts SO that each

45

network could provide "minute by minute reports, along
with suitable commentary, concerning this most momentous
election in our history."25
The 1932 election night broadcasts were, as
Variety's radio editor stated two days after the election,
"a smashing success . . . with the brash, young CBS peOple
really scoring a major coup in this new business Of radio

reporting."26

Surveys showed that "nearly sixty-five
percent Of the American people listened, at one time or
another, to the radio for election results." The ANPA
was furious when the survey was made public, seeing in its
results a dire threat to their news monopoly. But the
networks were thrilled by their apparent success. They
knew, however, they were still stymied by their lack of
access to in-depth news stories that could only come from
the sophisticated resources Of the wire services.

At the 1933 ANPA convention the debate over radio
news dominated the proceedings. The ANPA'S "Radio Com-
mittee," headed by Indiana publisher Ed Harris, recommended
that all newspapers discontinue radio program listings
unless carried as paid advertising. Some publishers were

not SO negative toward radio, however. For example, New

York Times publisher Adolph S. Ochs said, "it is important

 

news be broadcast, for it whets the public's appetite to

get hOld Of a 900d newspaper that contains all the news."27

Scripps-Howard publisher Roy W. Howard disagreed. "The

46

great problem," he claimed, "is that radio news has the
ability, that we have all seen, to skim the cream Off the
day's news and put it out before the daily press can be
delivered. I, for one, want to protect my rights."28
Although the publishers were divided on the issue Of

whether wire service news should be sold to radio, they
recognized that there could no longer be a press monopoly

of news.

The outcome Of the 1933 convention resulted in a
slight relaxation Of policy. Newspaper-owned radio stations
were now told they would be allowed to purchase wire
service news. Although these stations would receive more
"bulletins" than before, they would be limited to "brief

29 Nonnewspaper owned

notices Of news of a major stature."
stations were still barred from purchasing wire service
news, a move that infuriated station owners. Despite their
protests to the ANPA, the networks and the nonnewspaper
owned stations were sternly told they would have to accept
the decision "as final and irrevocable."30
Cut Off from a supply Of major news stories, the
independent and network stations decided they would now
have to form their own news-gathering organizations. They
recognized the critical need for news on a daily basis,
and were aware Of the public desire for more news via radio.

The ANPA boycott Of radio news had the effect, much to

the chagrin of the publishers and the wire services, of

47

creating a new competitor. Paul White told a group Of
publishers that "now you gentlemen are going to see the
birth Of a new journalism, with different rules, new
techniques, and, above all, a new style."31
"Our time has finally come," Paul White wrote to
CBS chief William Paley. "Now that we are being forced to
set up our own shop, we should strive for the best. I
think we can really make something Of radio news."32
Within three months Of the ANPA convention, CBS
was actively forming its own news-gathering organization.
The General Mills Corporation approached Paley with the
suggestion that the network support a full-time news
department. General Mills was willing to Sponsor a news
program, one that would circumvent the daily press and the
wire services and provide its own "Special type Of stories
for radio." They agreed to pay all of the bills providing

that "not more than $3,000 was spent per month."33

Paley
agreed. He gave Paul White, a former UPI writer and
editor, full responsibility for organizing the CBS news
division. In September 1933, White formally announced to
network affiliates the birth Of the Columbia News Service,
Inc. "Our service will be totally comprehensive," White
wrote in a promotional booklet sent around the country.
"Our style will be informative and we will present the

day's news in as entertaining a fashion as possible . . .

without violating sound journalistic principles."

48

Under the energetic direction of White, the
Columbia News Service moved quickly to assure itself of a
continuous supply Of news. Contracts were signed with the
British Exchange Telegraph Agency for foreign news, and
with the Dow-Jones Service for economic and domestic news.
At the same time, White Opened "radio news bureaus" in
Chicago, LOS Angeles, and Washington. CBS was also aided
by over eight hundred part—time stringers who contracted
to supply "breaking news" tO the main Office in New York.
White was SO excited by the future prospects Of the CBS
Operation that he predicted in a memorandum to Paley, "a
smashing success for radio journalism, probably within a
few months."36

CBS also hired two "news readers" to broadcast the
daily reports now being prepared by the New York Office.

Hans von Kaltenborn, former city editor of the Brooklyn

Daily Eagle, impressed White and Paley because he could

 

talk "endlessly on any subject." To balance Kaltenborn's
"liberal vieWpOints," White chose Boake Carter, a con-
servative journalist and part-time broadcaster. "They
are both engaging personalities," White told Paley, "and
we would dO well tO keep them on for a long time."37
Kaltenborn and Carter agreed to alternate in
anchoring the evening news. Both were promised the chance

tO "comment on the news from time to time" within the five

minutes alloted per news show. The preparation and the

49

actual writing Of each news broadcast, however, was the
sole responsibility Of White's New York Office. "We will
give them the best possible stuff," White noted to his
staff, "but we don't want them fooling around with the
material. They can stylize the news with their voices
and presentations, not their copy-pencils."39
By December 1933, the Columbia News Service was
flooded with congratulatory messages sent in by affiliated
stations. "The quality Of your news is superb," one
California station wrote to White, "and I only hope that

40

we will see more Of the same." "Please keep up the good

work," a station in New Jersey added, "for I see the CBS
work as a harbinger Of things to come in radio news."41
Paley was happy the daily news shows were so successful.
He took great pride in the fact that Paul White built the
organization from the ground floor, "exactly as we talked
about for so long." He told his news chief he already

had received CBS transcript requests, on twelve separate

occasions, from The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune.

 

 

"It was a great year for us," White Observed at the end Of
1934. "We were pleasing our stations. We weren't getting
into trouble with the government. And General Mills kept
sponsoring us."42

Kaltenborn and Carter soon left their jobs as "news

readers" in order to become what the network referred to as

news "commentators." This allowed both men to spend more

50

time analyzing the news. CBS, however, continued to supply
daily news programs to affiliates and now could boast that
it was providing "news and comment" every day.

Despite the somewhat extravagant claims Of the CBS
publicity Office that "never before has the news been pre-
sented in such a detailed and coherent manner," network
news shows were little more than headline—providing
services. Each Show lasted only five minutes, and,
although White believed radio news could provide "original
reports," stories rarely lasted more than thirty seconds.
There was very little on-the-spot reporting. White wanted
to maintain complete control over each broadcast and
demanded each Show be written in New York. "Paul White
ran an awfully tight shop," a CBS news employee remembered.
"The problem in those days was that we never had enough
time to do real detailed stories. White wanted to, but
the clock was our master and he was the chief custodian
Of the network's minutes."43

Within the brief CBS news shows there was a solid
line Of factual stories. White felt strongly about the
need for radio journalism to follow the accepted rules of
newswriting, including strict adherence to objectivity and
fairness. "We may have rushed through stories which Should
have been reported in more depth," he wrote, "but before
the war at least, radio news was only the icing on the

broadcaster's cake; there wasn't enough time for us."44

51

At NBC, however, a different standard for news
shows existed. Under the leadership Of A. A. Schecter,
NBC'S news programs were designed to provide "soft stories,"
an industry euphemism for feature reporting. "Our mighty
radio-city newsroom was geared to highlight life," Schecter
noted about the NBC effort. "We were not there to upstage
newspapers, unlike one Of our competitors."45

In the early 19305, NBC hired several prominent
journalists, including Lowell Thomas and Walter Winchell.
Since NBC declared its sole interest was in "special
events reportage," both Thomas and Winchell read prepared
newscasts featuring short interviews, "man-in-the-street
reports," and rewritten newspaper stories dealing with "the

n46

more humorous aspects Of American life. Paul White

condemned the NBC news effort as "totally reprehensible . .

47 NBC consistently avoided

. a scissors and paste job."
presenting any sort Of hard-news coverage. Instead, they
strictly followed the guidelines set up by Schecter.

Though both networks paid lip-service to their
"comprehensiveness" as news media, executivefiat NBC and
CBS provided woefully inadequate coverage Of international
news. CBS received the bulk Of its overseas news from
British Telegraph Exchange Service, a conservative news
service. At NBC, Schecter's idea Of important international

coverage was little more than a continuation Of his domes-

tic "special events reporting." At one point in 1937, for

52

example, he dreamed up a "Singing Mouse Contest," an event
actually held in London's Earl's Court and broadcast live
(and a broadcast that won, to the utter dismay Of Paul
White, an award for the "Best International Broadcast Of
1937). Another typical Schecter "news program" included a
widely publicized "Singing Canary Contest" held in Paris.48
Schecter admitted his purpose in designing such programming
in his memoirs.

I remember picking up one midwestern newspaper-—it

was a Sunday radio section--and it had an eight-

column streamer saying: SINGING MICE ON AIR TODAY.

And then a two-column head saying "Lilly Pons makes

debut"--SO you can see who's more important. People

will listen to NBC instead Of another network. If

we can get them to do that, we will have accomplished

our purpose.

"There was nO lack Of serious radio news or com-
mentary from EurOpe," Alexander Kendrick, a one—time CBS
employee, has written. "It simply wasn't being done by
American radio reporters--there were none."50

Finally in 1937, Paul White convinced William Paley
"that a dire need for better radio coverage exists in

51 White knew that radio news had to be upgraded

Europe."
in EurOpe since the threat of war was beginning to appear
as a distinct possibility. "The era Of the 'Singing Mouse'
is coming to an end, and though we at CBS haven't engaged
in such tripe, we better be prepared to field a staff
capable Of reporting what I see coming: a life and death

"52

struggle. "Send young Murrow," Paley told White. "He

53

has been in EurOpe before, is a capable administrator. Tell
him, for God's sake, to get us a staff."53
Within two months Murrow arrived in London. He was
directed to organize a CBS European staff on a small scale
and to direct European broadcasts "on topics Of interest to
Americans." By the middle of 1937 Murrow, along with the
staff he recruited, would bury the long-held notion that

radio journalism could only serve as "just another form Of

entertainment."

Murrow began his London assignment with the fero-
cious energy he had already displayed as a minor CBS exec-
utive in New York. Although he had little on-air experi-
ence, he had firmly-held ideas about the form radio journal-
ism should take in the future. His first major task
required him to hire personnel for the staff. He gave long
and serious thought to the kind Of individuals who would
best serve the interests Of what he called, "this new type
Of reporting."

I tried to find people who were young and who knew
what they were talking about. I wasn't worried tOO
much about the way their voices sounded on-the-air.

I thought they should be, above all else, good
writers and gOOd journalists. The rest would come.

54
His first choice for "the new team" was William L. Shirer,
a thirty-three year Old reporter with years Of experience

in Paris working for the Herald Tribune. In August 1937

 

Shirer noted in his diary, "I have a job."

54

I am to gO to work for the Columbia Broadcasting

System. That is, I have a job if my voice is all

right. Who ever heard Of an adult, with no pre-

tenses toward becoming a singer or any other kind

Of artist being dependent for a job OE a gOOd,

interesting voice? Mine is terrible! 5
Shirer's high-pitched, squeaky voice was not pleasing to
the ears Of the CBS executives in New York. But Murrow
insisted on Shirer being hired because Of his extensive
background as a foreign correspondent and his finé,writing
style. "I wanted him for CBS knowing that he could do the
job. Not only that, but he is a gOOd linguist and is
everything that radio news is not: sensitive tO news

56 CBS reluctantly gave in to Murrow's request

events."
and Shirer was assigned to Vienna to cover both Austria
and Germany.

Murrow told White that he intended "to make our
broadcasts from here sensitive tO the nuances Of life."57
As soon as he was settled into the cramped CBS Office in
London, Murrow began to arrange "international reports and
talks" for short wave transmission to New York. He also
began to cable his ideas for future stories. "Since EurOpe
seems to be coming apart at the seams," his first cable
stated,

I think we should try and develop a style Of reporting
that will gO beyond anything that has ever been done
before. Don't you think that by focusing in on
people, narrowing down on how they live, we could

then be saying a lot more about events than by merely

reporting politics and economic news. I am int rested
in people--how they get by, the way they talk.

55

Murrow tried to convince White "the Old man-in-the-street
stuff can be useful, provided we let the man speak his
mind and not make him an extension Of the reporter."59
What Murrow wanted tO do shocked the radio establishment
at CBS. When he arranged for his first local story——an
interview with a Cockney cab driver in London's East End,
who agreed to talk about "this 'ere Nazi business" from a
pub--several British papers carried stories about the

broadcast. "Radio has never let the common man gO on the

air before," The Manchester Guardian noted in a lead

 

article. "Perhaps our own dour BBC could learn something

from the Americans at CBS."60

White was pleased with the
report, however. He encouraged Murrow to continue to find
people like the cabbie. "They say a lot more than we
thought they could," White tOld Murrow about the broadcast.
"Sometimes, they even think a little more clearly."61
Throughout the Spring and summer Of 1937, Murrow
continued to arrange broadcasts from London. He soon made
important contacts with varied members Of the British
establishment. He was on a first-name basis with Winston
Churchill, and frequently lunched with Churchill's ideo-
logical Opposite, the socialist academic Harold Laski.
"All of these peOple have something to say, and they
introduce me to loads Of people," Murrow wrote to his
family. "They are also teaching me a lot about the human

side Of politics here. It's extraordinary."62

56

Broadcasting in England was not the same as in the
United States. The state-owned British Broadcasting Cor-
poration was a stodgy, uninspired system. Under the direct
control Of its powerful and conservative director, Sir
John Reith--a taciturn believer in upholding what "is best
in the Empire"--the BBC was a giant bureaucracy. Its
programming was unoriginal, and its news division "played
by the gentlemanly rules," with "news readers" appearing
before their microphones in dinner jackets. When Murrow
made a courtesy call on Sir John (as a matter of necessity,
since CBS depended upon the BBC for studio Space and
technical assistance), the BBC'S director was "somewhat
shocked" by the gregarious behavior Of the young broad-
caster and his "ideas about radio." Murrow told Reith he
hOped to "bring radio down to earth with Simple language
so that our journalism will have more meaning for people."
"He is quite a young man," Reith noted in his diary, "but
I doubt he will last long; things just aren't done as he

63 Murrow related to

wishes them to be done. A dreamer."
White his experiences with Reith in a short letter. He
took pleasure in describing the expression on Reith's face
when "I told him I have plans to broadcast from pubs, the
Brighton Pier, banks, factories, downtown London."64

As Murrow settled into the daily routine Of arrang-
ing broadcasts, he began to grow increasingly impatient

with CBS. "They just don't want tO give me my own air

57

time," he wrote his brother. "I want tO cover something
myself. God, I know I could do it if I had the chance."
Murrow's frustration was short lived, however, and he soon
got his "chance." European politics and diplomacy began tO
revolve around the personality Of the German Chancellor,
Adolph Hitler. Both Shirer and Murrow knew that Austria
would be the next area Of diplomatic conflict. Despite
the overt hostility Of Goebbel's Ministry Of Propaganda,
Shirer was continuing to send out broadcasts from Berlin.
Hitler's eyes never turned away from his birthplace,"
Shirer noted on-the-air. "And I expect that trouble will
come soon. EurOpe should prepare itself." By the fall Of
1937, the Austrian Nazi Party was gaining more and more
internal control in Austria, and Shirer cabled Murrow that
CBS Should be prepared to broadcast "the entire crisis
when it happens." "Our time has come," he added as a post-
script, "and you better be ready."65
The CBS EurOpean staff consisted Of only two men,
Murrow and Shirer. Murrow knew that if the Austrian crisis
turned out to be the "first step toward war," he would be
forced by events to go on-the-air himself tO report. He
sent an emergency cable to White in New York and stated
he was fully prepared tO "do my own work." "I will try to
make listeners feel what it is like. It's like I've been

67

preparing for this my whole life." The two CBS corres-

pondents prepared an elaborate code to be sent by cable

58

if the Germans actually marched into Austria. They agreed
that Shirer would send out the following message, "The
goal line has been crossed," indicating that Murrow Should
get to Vienna as soon as possible and help report the
event. Both men agreed they would also have to "interpret
as well as report," for, as Murrow told Shirer, "strict

"68 Murrow felt

Objectivity can Often be a straitjacket.
that he must prepare CBS in New York for the kind Of
journalism "Bill and I want tO do, and this can be done
only when we make our stuff more than a lead sentence.
We plan on transporting the audience to where we are."69
Newspaper reporting had always been a report Of what had
happened. Radio reporting, at least as Murrow envisioned
it, had to be a chronicle Of what was happening at the
moment.

By early March 1938, Shirer told Murrow that
events were unfolding quickly in Austria. When the
crisis actually came, Murrow knew that a better sense of
the "event in the making" could be accomplished for radio
news by means Of multiple radio reports from around the
continent. He planned an extensive system of multiple-
pOint broadcasts, never attempted before. TO CBS engi-
neers in New York, Murrow's plans seemed outlandish giving

the technical logistics and the need for split-second

timing. But Murrow insisted that "radio must begin to

59

present in-depth coverage, so just cross your fingers.
It's coming now."70
On March 13, early in the morning, Shirer's cable
arrived at CBS in London: "The goal line has been crossed."
Murrow now had eight hours to arrange the various radio
pickups around Europe. In Paris, Edgar Ansel Mowrer was
contacted and agreed to provide French reaction tO the
Nazi power-play. In Berlin, Pierre Huss, a friend Of
Shirer's agreed to deal with German sentiments. In Rome,
Frank Gervais had arranged studio space with Italian
authorities. And in London, Ellen Wilkinson, a Member Of
Parliament, was prepared to report British reactions.
Each correspondent would receive a cue and begin talking
for five to seven minutes. CBS in New York was informed
they could expect a broadcast a little after 8 p.m.
Murrow had already flown to Vienna and was now ready.
A little before eight in the evening, CBS' Robert

Trout made the following announcement over the air:

The program "St. Louis Blues" will not be heard

tonight. Instead there will be a special broad-

cast which will include pickups from London, Paris,

and other EurOpean capital§1[that] have communi-

cation channels available.
After a tense ten second interval, the Short wave static
died down. Shirer's voice was heard clearly Speaking from
London. For the next thirty minutes, without any technical

difficulty, the first multiple-point radio broadcast was

heard over the entire CBS network system.

6O

Shirer provided background information on the

German march into Austria. He predicted that "Hitler's
appetite was insatiable," and that his next move would
probably come in Czechoslovakia. Shirer's style was very
cut and dry with few wasted words. Ellen Wilkinson was
next. She stumbled over her prepared text that dealt
exclusively with Parliamentary reactions. She was followed
by Mowrer in Paris and Gervasi in Rome. Finally, with
less than five minutes Of air time left, Murrow in Vienna
got his cue tO begin his first news broadcast. Unlike his
fellow reporters, he tried to give a word portrait of what
Vienna was like on the "last day of its independence." His
voice sounded strained. "From the air," he stated,

Vienna didn't look much different than it has before

. . . the crowds are as courteous as they've always

been, but many peOple are in a holiday mood. They

lift the right arm a little higher than they do in

Berlin and the "Heil Hitler" is said a little more

loudly.

Young storm troopers are riding about in the streets,

in trucks and vehicles Of all sorts, singling and

tossing oranges to the crowd. I saw many couples

walking . . . their primary interest seemed to be

in enjoying the brisk sunshine Of the day.
Murrow added a few political facts about what he had seen
that day--"I saw the Minister Of War, visibly sweating in
his huge Office"--but quickly returned to his description
Of Vienna. He told about the hundreds Of German flags he
saw, the huge crowds milling about, "waiting and watching,

knowing full well that Herr Hitler would soon arrive." He

concluded by noting "the certain air Of expectancy

61

surrounding the city," and compared the hushed Viennese
crowds awaiting Hitler's entourage to "the still pOplar
trees that ring the city's wide boulevards."

The first "CBS News Roundup" ended exactly on time.
Murrow was too busy preparing for another multiple point
broadcast to worry whether the initial broadcast had been
a success. But in New York, the excitement was apparent.
"I was certain that radio news finally came Of age
tonight," Paul White told William Paley. White sent
Murrow a telegram immediately, congratulating him on his
success. "Your voice and report came across loud and
clear. Details great. Good focus. All are proud."73

On Monday, March 14, Hitler finally entered Vienna.

Neville Chamberlain told the House Of Commons the German

Anschluss was a definite blow against European peace. He

 

added that international "appeasement" was still a "sound
policy." Murrow already told New York to expect another
multiple-point broadcast that evening. "We are recording

history being made," he told White.74

Preparations for
Monday evening's broadcast went smoothly. Shirer would
again speak from London, this time with journalist Philip

Jordan. Kenneth Davis would report from Paris. Albion

Ross of The New York Times would analyze German reactions.

 

Murrow would present the final three minutes from Vienna.
The second broadcast was completed faultlessly.

Each reporter made factual reports, noting how the Anschluss

 

62

was being viewed in the respective capitals. Murrow,
however, talked about the scene itself, a report based
on his day's walk through the streets of Vienna.
The German soldiers are Obviously enjoying them-
selves. They're sleeping On straw, and there are
stacked rifles and iron helmets arranged neatly
along the walls. They don't talk a lot with the
Viennese, but they always give an impression Of
iron discipline. .
Although his broadcast time was limited to three minutes,
Murrow included in his report a simply stated fact Of life
in Vienna, a moment Of time he Observed when he "stopped
for a cup Of coffee,"
and at this quiet coffee bar a Jewish-looking man was
standing. After a long while, he took an Old-
fashioned razor from his pocket and slashed his
throat.
"This was Vienna today," he concluded, "now a part Of the
German Reich."75

The multiple—point broadcasts that originated in

Europe during the Anschluss crisis soon became common fare

 

in radio news reporting. CBS far outclassed any other
American network during the five days Of the German
annexation Of Austria. Quite soon, NBC would also success-
fully attempt its Own multiple-point news Show from

Europe. Murrow returned to London knowing that the success
Of any future radio reporting would depend upon a "solid
news organization," and not, as was the case during the

Anschluss, upon last minute use Of print journalists.

 

"Now that we have shown what we can do," Murrow told White,

63

"I am going to get some boys together. Things are popping
over here."76
Murrow was flushed with excitement. He knew his
first reporting efforts were well-received by his peers in
New York. He took special pride in H. B. Kaltenborn's
cable praising his "fine eye for detail, shadow and sub-

stance."77

His Vienna broadcasts were prototypes of his
future reporting style. He was firmly convinced that he
could now concentrate on individuals caught up "in the
fluctuations Of history." "We can transport whole masses
of people to a scene if the language used reflects the
moment."78
At CBS headquarters in New York, there was little
doubt Edward R. Murrow was now much more than a facilitator
Of "overseas talks." "His career as a reporter has now
begun," White noted. "I imagine he will have a great deal
to do in the future."79
By the beginning of June 1938, another troublesome
spector was haunting Europe. Hitler was now turning his

attention further east, toward Czechoslovakia and the

"persecuted Germans of the Sudentenland." "If there is

 

any trouble over here," Murrow wrote White, "I, for one,
intend to be watching it."80
Radio journalism had finally come Of age, as Paul

White noted during the Anschluss crisis. The great war

 

that was now coming would provide this newly-mature form

64

Of reporting its big chance. For the thirty year Old
Murrow, the next seven years in London marked the emotional

and professional highpoint Of his life.

CHAPTER II FOOTNOTES

1In 1957 CBS was considering a documentary on the
growth Of broadcast journalism. The program was researched
by network staffers but never received final production
approval by Paley. Tentatively titled, "20 Years Of
Broadcast Journalism," the file contains valuable research
material: clippings, scripts, memoranda, letters. The
quote used comes from an unsigned letter to the editor Of
The Detroit News, August 11, 1932.

 

2The New York Times, March 17, 1931, p. 37.

 

3Frank A. Arnold, Broadcast Advertising: The
Fourth Dimension (New York: John Wiley, 1931), p. 76,
quoting a speeEH given by David Sarnoff, President Of
NBC, in 1930.

 

 

4"The Future Of Radio Programming," Radio Dealer,
October 3, 1922, p. 12. The author Of the abOve article
identified himself as "Station manager, Boston."

 

5The Detroit News, August 19, 1920, p. 3.

 

6The Detroit News, August 21, 1920, p. 28. The
news article noted how "Mighty Station 8MK stunned the
world in its first news broadcast."

 

7Letter from S. Bremmer to Detroit News Editor,
September 7, 1920, "20 Years Of Broadcast Journalism"
File, Murrow Papers.

 

8"How Managers View Radio News," Radio Digest,
November 11, 1925, p. 62.

 

9"New Developments in Audience Habits,“ Radio
Digest, November 11, 1925, p. 33.

65

66

10Arnold, Broadcast Advertising, p. 173.

 

11William S. Paley wrote the first CBS promotional
booklet that was sent to prospective network affiliates.
The above quote is taken from a COpy Of that booklet,
located in the CBS Publicity File A, Murrow Papers.

lzIbid.

lBIbid.

14"What You Can Expect From CBS," a promotional
leaflet circulated by CBS in November, 1927, CBS Publicity
File A, Murrow Papers.

15"Future Programming Needs," a promotional leaflet
circulated by CBS in 1928, CBS Publicity File A, Murrow
Papers. CBS public relations releases were very honest
about the direction the network planned to take in terms
Of future radio programming. Since they were designed to
attract network customers-~both affiliates and advertisers--
they had to detail the precise direction, and policies, Of
future radio programming.

l6Federal Radio Commission, First Annual Report
(Washington: Government Printing OffiEe, 1927), p. 10.

 

17American Newspaper Publishers Association
Bulletin, February, 1928, p. 2.

 

18American Newspaper Publishers Association
Bulletin, March 30, 1928, p. 16.

 

19Letter from William S. Paley to Executive Com-
mittee, American Newspaper Publishers Association, June 11,
1928, "20 Years Of Broadcast Journalism File," Murrow
Papers.

20Letter from Sherman Kent to William S. Paley,
July 28, 1928, Program File A, Murrow Papers.

21Ibid.

22Letter from William S. Paley to Paul W. White,
September 15, 1930, Program File A, Murrow Papers.

67

23American Newspaper Publishers Association
Bulletin, April 11, 1931, p. 27.

 

24Letter from Paul White to Edward Klauber,
November 1, 1932, Program File A, Murrow Papers.

25Ibid. CBS also sent out promotional leaflets to
its affiliates promising "massive, in-depth coverage Of
the coming election," CBS Publicity File A, Murrow Papers.

26Variety, November 10, 1932, p. 31. Variety' 5
radio columnist praised the CBS coverage "as the most com-
prehensive radio news effort tO date."

27Proceedings of the 1933 ANPA Convention, May 9,
1933, pp. 45167. The convention debate was dominated by
the acrimonious debate over the future Of radio news.

 

281bid., p. 82.

29Letter from Edward Harris to Edward Klauber,
June 17, 1933, Program File A, Murrow Papers.

3OIbid.

31Letter from Paul White to William S. Paley,
July 1, 1933, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

321bid.

33Memorandum from Paul White to Edward Klauber,
July 21, 1933, Program File B, Murrow Papers. White added
that he was "certain that we will be able to stay within
the set budget."

34"News--From CBS to You," CBS promotional leaf-
let, CBS Publicity File A, Murrow Papers.

BSIbid.

36Ibid.

37Letter from Paul White tO William S. Paley,
January 13, 1933, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

68

38Memorandum from Paul White to William S. Paley,
November 12, 1933, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

39Ibid., White added in a postscript that
"Kaltenborn has the reputation for being a rather head-
strong man, so we will have to treat him with kid gloves."

40Letter from KUBV, San Francisco, to Paul White,

December 11, 1933, Letters tO CBS News File, Murrow Papers.

41Letter from WJNB, Newark, to Paul White, January

10, 1934, Letters tO CBS News File, Murrow Papers.

42Letter from Paul White tO Edward Klauber, n.d.,

Program File B, Murrow Papers.

43Letter from Reginald Barons to ERM, October 1,
1955, Personal Correspondence File D, Murrow Papers.

44Letter from Paul White to ERM, January 22, 1942,
Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

45A. A. Schecter, I Live On Air (New York:
Frederick A. Stokes Company, 1941), p. 217. Schecter's
memoir Of his "struggle to bring a new kind Of news to
Americans," is fascinating, for it accurately details how
NBC felt about news. It also includes some find photo-
graphs Of NBC newsmen in action.

 

461bid., p. 236.

47Paul W. White, News on the Air (New York:
Harcourt, Brace & Company, 1947), p. 37. White loathed
the NBC news organization and refused to Speak with
Schecter.

 

48At CBS, however, there was a limited attempt

made to cover the Spanish Civil War. Kaltenborn was sent
to Spain in September, 1936 and revisited Spain five more
times. Most Of his reporting was done from the French-
Spanish border where he provided coverage Of some fierce
fighting, Erik Barnouw, The Golden Web: A History Of
Broadcasting in the United States, Volume II, 1933-1953
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1968), pp. 74-75. A
thorough study of Kaltenborn's radio commentaries can be
found in Giraud Chester's unpublished doctoral

 

 

69

dissertation, "The Radio Commentaries of H. V. Kaltenborn:
A Case Study in Persuasion" (Madison: University Of Wis-
consin, 1947).

49Schecter, I Live On Air, p. 87.

 

50Kendrick, Prime Time, p. 132.

 

51Letter from Paul White tO William S. Paley,
February 23, 1937, "20 Years Of Broadcast Journalism File,"
Murrow Papers.

52Ibid.

53Memorandum from William S. Paley tO Paul White,
February 25, 1937, "20 Years Of Broadcast Journalism File,"
Murrow Papers.

54Letter from ERM to Paul White, May 3, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

55William L. Shirer, Berlin Diary: The Journal Of
a Foreign Correspondent, 1934-1941 (New York: Knopf, 1941),
pp. 78-80.

 

 

56Letter from ERM tO Paul White, May 30, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

57Ibid.

58Cablegram from ERM to Paul White, June 3, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

59Letter from ERM to Paul White, June 10, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

60The Manchester Guardian, June 12, 1937, p. 9.

 

61Letter from Paul White to ERM, June 14, 1937,
Personal CorreSpondence File D, Murrow Papers.

62Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow, June 28,
1937, Personal Correspondence File D, Murrow Papers.

70

63John Charles Walsham Reith, Into the Wind: A
Memoir (London: Hodder & Stroughton, 1949), p. 175.

 

64Letter from ERM to Paul White, July 12, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File D, Murrow Papers.

65Ibid.

66Cablegram from William L. Shirer tO ERM, n.d.,
Personal Correspondence File D, Murrow Papers.

67Cablegram from ERM to Paul White, February 25,
1937, Personal Correspondence File D, Murrow Papers.

68ERM to William L. Shirer, March 1, 1937, Personal
Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

691bid.

70Cablegram from ERM to Paul White, March 3, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

71CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," March 13,
1937, Transcript File A, Murrow Papers.

72Memorandum from Paul White to William S. Paley,
March 14, 1937, "20 Years Of Broadcast Journalism File,"
Murrow Papers.

73Cablegram from Paul White tO ERM, March 14, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

74Cab1egram from ERM tO Paul White, March 14, 1937,
Personal CorreSpondence File E, Murrow Papers.

75CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," March 14,
1937, Transcript File A, Murrow Papers.

76Letter from ERM to Paul White, March 17, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

77Cablegram from H. V. Kaltenborn to ERM, n.d.,
Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

71

78Letter from ERM to Paul White, March 30, 1937,

Personal Correspondence File E, Murrow Papers.

79Letter from ERM to Edward Klauber, April 12,
1937, Personal Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

80Letter from ERM tO Paul White, April 16, 1937,
Personal Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

CHAPTER III

BORN TO A NEW ART: THE LONDON YEARS

The only Objection that can be Offered to Murrow's
style Of reporting is that when an air raid is on,
he has the habit Of going out on the roof to see what
is happening, or Of driving around in an Open car to
see what has been hit. That is not the best way tO
make sure that you will go on getting it.

Elmer Davis, 1941
Over the period Of your many months in London, you
destroyed the superstition that what is done beyond
three thousand miles Of water is not really done at
all; the ignorant superstition that violence and
lies and murder on another continent are not vio-
lence and lies and murder here.

Archibald MacLeish, 1941

The CBS radio network's coverage Of the Austrian
crisis in March 1938 convinced William Paley that "Murrow
is the key newsperson we have in EurOpe."1 In London,
Murrow was concerned that CBS continue to supply news and
commentary from EurOpe on a regular basis, "no matter what
the cost or trouble . . . since peOple have come tO
believe that radio news is worth something."2

Despite the fact that the network was pleased with

the prestige it received from the news Operation, Paley

refused to supply funding for an enlarged staff. "DO you

72

73

honestly believe there won't be a war soon, requiring
coverage by more than three people?" Murrow cabled Paul
White. "I suppose you are right," White replied, "but
. . . until it happens, we count on you. What are your
ideas?"3

Murrow never provided his superiors with a detailed
list Of "ideas" for future broadcasts. He was tOO busy
organizing his Office in London, "preparing for Hitler's
next move." He told Shirer in Berlin the war "is coming
so soon, I can taste it, and we have to be ready."4 By
the end Of August 1938, the German State Radio was beaming
out a repeated message: "The criminal, illegal Czechoslo-
vakian government continues to persecute Germans in the
Sudetenland." On August 23, 1938, Radio Berlin noted that
"the crisis is now here."5

Although CBS headquarters in New York expressed
little interest in the European situation, Murrow was
sending Shirer cables daily outlining the kind Of coverage
CBS radio should provide. "We have to be more than
scribes," one cable stated, "who do little more than report
the big events. Maybe we should be sociologists, not
journalists, hit for the little stuff, the details."6
Murrow told Shirer the Austrian broadcasts in March were
well received because "they dealt with people, their
feelings, and the emotions Of the moment."7 He felt his

own future role as a radio journalist was "quite clear

74

cut . . . an intention to show my audience how history
hinges on people in trouble. People, always the people,
Bill."8
On Monday afternoon September 12, Hitler spoke
from the Nuremberg arena, and both CBS and NBC broadcast
his closing address to the Nazi Party Congress. The
German Chancellor referred tO the Sudetenlanders as "our
people exposed to the democratic hordes," and he warned

9 In London,

the Czech government, "this cannot continue."
Murrow notified White that a "crisis" was about to begin
in Central Europe and the network should be prepared to
broadcast continuous coverage. White agreed, and air
time was cleared for the news division. Hans von Kaltenborn
stationed himself at his radio news desk, ready "on a
moment's notice" to act as the moderator and analyst of
the CBS short-wave feeds from Europe. For the next
eighteen days, Kaltenborn remained at his desk, sleeping
on a cot when the need arose, delivering impromptu com-
mentary following each broadcast from EurOpe. The diplo-
matic negotiations sealing the fate Of Czechoslovakia had
begun. The British and French Prime Ministers were now
"actively working with" Hitler to "solve" a "minor
problem."10

Since the Austrian broadcasts Of March, the "CBS

Radio News Roundup" had become regular radio fare over the

network. The technical difficulties involved in sending

75

out multiple-point broadcasts still existed; however, CBS
engineers perfected the system tO such an extent that
contact was almost always on time with Murrow in London.
"The engineers know how to get our words out," Murrow told
Kaltenborn. "All we have tO dO is make those words count
for something."11
From September 12 until September 30, when Neville
Chamberlain returned from Munich after having Signed the
agreement leading to the partition Of Czechoslovakia, CBS
News was constantly on the air. Regular network programs
were interrupted with "flash bulletins" delivered by
Kaltenborn and, on five separate occasions, bulletins were
interrupted by bulletins. Fourteen full-length "News
Roundups" were broadcast along with individual reports
delivered by correspondents in Paris, Rome, Berlin, and
London. Throughout the entire Czech crisis, however, Murrow
in London provided the most unusual broadcast reports. "I
wanted to give a sense Of the atmOSphere in England," he
wrote to White after Munich, "to Show how little all Of
it meant to the British."12
CBS had a strictly enforced policy forbidding the
use Of any previously recorded material from being used at
a later time over the air. Murrow, therefore, was forced
to broadcast live at all times from the studio. He could

not rely upon "expert guests" to fill his air time, since

Paley insisted each individual reporter summarize what he

76

had seen. To Murrow, Paley's request "made a lot Of sense
. . . since it is up to us to filter all Of the colored
details, the moods and reactions, and form them into

13 He believed it was

coherent reports over the air."
possible for the radio reporter to do just what the network
wanted, and he knew the result would be a more compre-
hensive, personal kind Of journalism. He told White his
days were "filled with mad chases around London and the
countryside . . . in constant search of the Odd detail
that makes for a larger picture Of events."14
Murrow tried to provide a different emphasis to
his broadcasts from London. In order to convey to the
radio audience the idea that he was involved in what he
was Observing-—he noted in his daily journal during Munich
that "I hate being a passive Observer Of anything--he
began to refer to his reporting as "the personal pronoun
style." "There is no way I can avoid being part of the
news I cover for CBS," he told Shirer, "because all Of the
information and sights are strained through my own con-
sciousness. I am part Of it. I saw it. The 'I' will stay
in it."15 For the first time in radio news, the reporter
was participant as well as spectator:
Hello, America, this is London calling. I'm speak-
ing from a little balcony on the third floor Of
Gridley's Bank in Whitehall. It's just about 12:15
in London. Everything is quiet. Not a soul at the

entrance Of Downing Street. The usual amount Of
traffic is passing along.

77

For the last four hours, I've been riding in buses,
going about London, talking with cabbies, talking
with doormen in hotels and clubs. And while it may
be true that London is typical Of England-—and per-
haps the peOple I've talked to aren't typical of
London--nevertheless I've been impressed and instructed
by the feelings I've received. A number Of people
said to me, 'Well, the only way to settle this busi-
ness is man to man, and the P.M. has gone out Of his
way and had a try at it.1
The "impressions" Murrow received that so "instructed"
him allowed him to build his report around his perception
Of the atmosphere in London, a careful blending of small
details that isolated that atmosphere in the words and
reactions Of common peOple. "I've let these people carry
my reports," he concluded another broadcast, "so you can
understand what is going on in the minds Of a people who
may have to fight a war someday."l7
While Kaltenborn in New York was seriously "ponder-
ing these momentous European events," Murrow was using his
own air time to render the news into understandable terms:
At times like this, one tries tO get information
by talking with peOple. Since things are moving
SO fast, primary and secondary issues are all mixed
up, and one man's guess is as good as another's.
Honesty forces me to tell you Of my own confusion--
a metaphor, perhaps, for what the feeling is in
England today.18
His broadcasts were filled with details noting the manner
in which specific individuals were coping with the current
crisis situation. He spoke with and reported about the
reactions Of street cleaners ("most Of whom fear a war and
want little more than to keep working"), late night

strollers in Piccadilly Circus ("one man looked SO baffled

78

by a newspaper headline, he crumbled it up and tossed it
away"), a veteran from the First World War ("who kept
muttering that we should have 'buckled them up good the
first time around"). He spent time with members Of
London's growing community Of exiled Czechs, and he
reported how "their faces visibly constrict when we speak
Of their young nation. They know it is all over."19
Murrow's London broadcasts did, however, include
enough factual information to satisfy his network's
requirement "that all reporters dig for the hard stuff,
tOO." He devoted several broadcasts to the preparations
being made ("Often SO quietly you can't even hear them
digging and pounding") for a massive air-raid Shelter
system. But everything he broadcast was woven around what
he referred to as "the small moments during the day's
activities that speak to the greater history taking

20

place." He had come to believe, through his experiences

in Austria and now during the Munich crisis, journalism

should "strive for the re-creation Of atmosphere via the

21

medium it utilizes." Murrow's style, therefore, concen-

trated on the life which existed beneath the surface Of
events:

Throughout most of the night, trucks loaded with
sandbags and gas masks were to be seen. Trenches
were being dug in the parks by the light Of flares
and automobile lights. The surface calm Of London
remains, but I think I detected a change in peOple's
faces. There seems tO be a tight, strained look
about their eyes. It reminded me a little Of the
expressions I saw on the faces Of Vienna's citizens

79

during the Anschluss. Occasionally, one sees a
smile that appears to be stuck on. Faces that
on t light up. There 15, in the end, fear.

The expressions on Londoners' faces, trenches being
dug by the light Of automobile lights were for Murrow the
"real essence Of what is happening here in London." He
wrote White that "Munich, as I saw it here, was simply
best reflected in what was happening outside of Official
buildings." He never claimed his reports were "inclusive
or even that good." But they were, as he Observed in his
last broadcast, "giving you a glimpse, at least, into the
way men lived their lives while others decided their
fate."23

Murrow and Shirer agreed tO meet in Paris to dis-
cuss plans for future radio coverage Of EurOpean affairs.
Both men were Optimistic about their careers in radio
journalism because of the growing acceptance of broadcast
journalism in the United States. When Murrow returned to
London he began tO send daily cables to New York requesting
increased funding and staffing. Paley, now basking in the
reflected glory of his news division Since Munich, agreed.
He told Murrow "to personally select the peOple you want

24

to work with." One of the first correspondents he hired

was a young reporter from the staff Of the Paris Herald

 

Tribune, Eric Sevareid. "There's only Shirer and myself,"
he told Sevareid over the phone, "but I think this radio

thing may develOp into something." Sevareid was worried

80

about his lack Of radio training and "a raspy voice that
breaks more Often than an adolescent's." Murrow told him
not tO worry. "I'm not interested in how you speak,"
Murrow replied, "only in the quality Of what you write . .
. . I have an idea peOple will like that."25
In a series Of transoceanic cables, Murrow outlined

to Paley and White his own personal plans as a radio
reporter. He emphasized his determination tO continue
reporting "in a very personal way."

I don't want to be part Of any news effort that

relies upon the so—called 'experts' tO report news.

I know that what I am after is a style all my own,

one that looks for the news in the personal docu-

ments Of history. In other words, I will design my

broadcasts around peoplg. I know this will prove

effective. It has to.
Murrow had now reached a critical point in his professional
life as a journalist. Europe was at the brink Of war, and
Murrow decided his role was, as he told White, "to convey
a sense Of what life is like for those peOple living close

to the edge."27

Radio news after the Munich crisis was finally
reaching a vast national audience. In 1939, Fortune
magazine conducted and published a survey that showed,
much to the surprise Of publisher Henry R. Luce, that
Americans were turning to radio for their basic news
source. "They have given up, in part, the newspaper habit,"

the survey noted, "in favor of the new medium."28 Not

81

only was radio news appealing tO an enlarged audience, it
was also pioneering a new approach to reporting. "The Old
neWSpaper rules don't apply anymore." White told a CBS
stockholder's meeting,

because we at CBS cannot be bound by the strict
requirements Of headlines and inverted pyramids

. . . and all Of the other stylistic rules Of
print reporting. NO, the CBS radio reporter now
has the freedom tO experiment with a new form Of
journalism, one that will let his audience feel
what he is feeling at the moment. Murrow, for
example, hasn't given up on honesty or Objectivity,
just pretension.

Each member Of the growing CBS radio news staff
felt that radio journalism could be successful only if it
rendered factual information in a more immediate fashion
than newspaper reporting. Murrow summarized this feeling
when he wrote Paley, in early 1939, "that we seek to con-
vince people by the way we Speak . . . that everything we

"30

are reporting has meaning for us as well. The appeal

of radio news, therefore, lay as much in the reporter's
desire to involve his audience as it did in a professional
desire tO present the day's news in summary fashion. As
William Stott argues SO persuasively, radio news served
as a particularly successful type of "documentary
expression,"
because it joined two methods of persuasion, direct
and vicarious. The listener witnessed, firsthand,
yet through another's eyes. The relation Of listener
and Speaker was paradoxical, and like all paradoxes,
unstable. The listener never could get from the
Speaker just the information he wanted. Always an

insuperable Obstacle remained . . . 'These things
must be experienced to be understood.’ And yet,

82

radio's limitation became its strength. For as the
Speaker acknowledged his limits, the listener grew
less observant of them. All that the Speaker left
unspoken--found uns eakable--testified to the reality
of his experience.38
Murrow believed radio was only "an empty box with wires
outside" unless it was used "for idealistic purposes." He
wanted to use the medium to translate his own experiences
"into terms anyone could understand." In effect, Murrow
sought to become the radio listener's surrogate, "speaking
in terms that are understandable, develop aural images
that are forceful." He told a BBC interviewer that "news
outside of the human dimension, that is, divorced from the
listener's own experiences, means very little. I want to
mean something."32
After less than two years as a working journalist,
Murrow found a philosophy of reporting he would follow for
the rest of his career. He never codified his theory, but
his correspondence with CBS as well as his script notes
and journal entries, reveal that he was comfortable only
with a personal style of reportage. "I look for subjects
in different ways," one journal entry in 1938 stated.
"And of the most basic of these ways is the search for
peOple'S reactions . . . when they're in trouble, or con-
fused, Or even noble. In short, when they are surviving
history."33
On September 1, 1939, the Germans invaded Poland.

Two days later the British and French governments declared

83

war on Hitler's Third Reich. In London, Murrow was, as
he excitedly told his small staff, "about to put the
American radio audience in touch with events in a world

that is about to explode."34

During one all night session
with BBC engineers, he outlined what he thought radio could
do. "I, for my part, will try to make my reporting come
alive . . . a damn egotistical notion, I know, but an
absolutely necessary one for me to remember."35
There were very few journalists stationed in London
who were as well prepared to report about the British
reaction to war as Murrow was. He had been living and
working in London since 1937 and his contacts and sources
existed on all levels of British society. Fascinated by
British society and culture, Murrow became an unabashed
Anglophile. "I've grown to reSpect these peOple," he wrote
White, "and it will be hard for me to be 'strictly objec-
tive' when I write and broadcast about them." He felt that
objective reporting was hard, if not impossible, to accom-
plish if one chose to write about "people in all sorts of
predicaments." "I don't mean that fairness is out, or
honesty or even dedication . . . merely that a reporter's
catalog-like listing of this side versus that side means

little."36

White responded in a long letter. He appreci-
ated Murrow's "honesty" and gave his London correspondent

"one Of the few pieces of advice I have for you,"

84

The only thing I ask is that you be terribly honest

in your work. Admit your biases, let the audience

know you are indeed involved in what you are observ—

ing. Then, they will come to expect a certain kind

of reporting from you. It will have your own style

and meaning. Be honest. Be personal. Be what you

want. But always, always, remember you are speaking

to people who can't be where you are . . . take them

there, Ed. 7

In effect, White was speaking for CBS when he gave

his approval to Murrow's style. He was interested in
allowing his correspondents the chance to develOp their
beats "in whichever way is necessary." At the same time,
Paul White wanted radio journalism to be respected not only
as a vital competitor with the print media, but also as an

informational medium with "unique potential."38

He recog-
nized in Murrow's work, especially his broadcasts during
the Munich crisis, "an individual approach to news that is
refreshing and moving, even, at times, quite Openly

"39

emotional. Murrow told White "the war as I report it

from London will be interpreted as a peoples' war, and my
style will accommodate itself to the topic."40
Murrow's decision to Specialize in his reporting
was a new concept in radio journalism. It made his job
even more difficult, however, since he was allowed only
about ninety seconds per broadcast. This meant he could
deliver broadcasts which averaged between seven and eight
hundred words. For a reporter who merely recited summary

statements from the government or presented barely disguised

and rewritten notices from public information agencies the

85

time allowed by CBS was adequate, if not generous. But
to Murrow, broadcast reporting required much more time
and effort since he had chosen to concentrate on what CBS
eventually began calling "sight and sound journalism."
Each report had to be a carefully worded, precise compo-
sition capable of conveying meaning as well as information.
"Since my journalism uses an aural medium," he told White,

I can't waste one second or one word. I found during

Munich that I have to practice my broadcasts over and

over, to the point where they become so much a part

of me that I can recite them without looking at my

written script. Most important, though, is that I

let the emotion of the story's content carry over

into my presentation. In other words, the story

determines everything. Maybe I am trying, hard as

it is for me, to paint images with words. Very

often, the image can carry the audience, can move

them to where I am.

The metaphor he used in his letter to White was

an appropriate one. Murrow believed strongly in the "power
of the Spoken word"—-a favorite admonition of his former
teacher, Ida Lou Anderson--as a vital means whereby one
individual could "literally tranSport" others to a scene.
He viewed his kind of journalism as a way to inform
Americans in an immediate fashion about "what war is going
to be like for the British." He felt it could be simply
done, as long as the messages he constructed bridged the
gap between what he was Observing and the audience's

removal from those Observations. "I just want people to

see what I am seeing every day," a journal entry stated,

86

"and, quite often, what I see can be translated into
language that is immediately understandable."42
He had learned a great deal from his experiences
during the Austrian and Czech crises. He was also aware
that he was working under different pressures than those
of the newspaper correspondent. "They collect facts,
organize them. But I am trying to become, if possible, an
essayist using radio." He did not want to "get everything
down . . . for it's much better for me to know a few things
well . . . to know the people well and what they are
enduring over here." Murrow had chosen London as his beat,

and the British people as his specialty.43

Murrow knew London very well indeed. He was every-
where: interviewing peOple on the streets, talking with
politicians, shopkeepers, ambulance drivers, schoolchildren.
Each day, he drove around the city in an Open air car.

He wanted to visit as many sections of the city as he
could, "so I can see what peOple here are doing and feel-
ing." He noted in his journal, "that war gets to people
in different ways,"
for some, it's just a matter of avoiding hurt and
injury, both physical and emotional. Others see
war as a grand patriotic crusade. And for others
it's just a matter of plain survival. There is no
one way the British are facing all of this. They
are, however, doing it in lots of little ways that
add up to something bigger. I am looking for the

little ways and want my audience to find the bigger
meanings for themselves.

87

While other American radio correspondents stationed in
London reported infrequently during early and late fall
1939, Murrow was on the air each evening. His broadcast
reports dealt with the changes he noticed taking place in
the daily routines of London's citizens. "These changes
are often so subtle," he stated in one broadcast, "that
one could miss them completely, but it seems to be my job
not to miss them."

Throughout the fall of 1939 and the early months
of 1940, Murrow's broadcasts followed the same general
format: a brief announcement of any late-breaking news,
an introductory statement about the evening's report, the
report "essay" itself. Although he tried to treat a
different subject each evening, there was a decided theme
linking these early wartime reports: the tension and fear
that lay beneath the surface of London's outward calm.
"It's the feeling I get when I see the shadowy faces in an
underground shelter during an alert, and the wet eyes of
the man next to me when it is all over," he noted at the

45

end of one broadcast in October 1939. The city took on

a special life of its own in "hundreds of small ways," he
began another broadcast in December,

and the best service I can provide for you is to
show you how these small events add up to larger
meanings. For example, over the last several days
I've reported to you how the sociological results
of this war will be overwhelming someday. This is
a class-conscious country. PeOple live in the same
small street or apartment building for years and
never talk to each other. The man with a fine car,

88

good clothes, and perhaps unearned income doesn't
generally fraternize with the tradesmen, day laborers,
and truck drivers. His fences are always up. He
doesn't meet them as equals. But if he's caught in
Piccadilly Circus when a siren sounds, he may have a
waitress stepping on his heels and see before him the
broad back of a day laborer as he goes underground.
His dignity and image may suffer, he thinks, when he
arrives half-dressed and sleepy minus his usual
defenses. Someone, I think it was Marcus Aurelius,
said something to the effect that "Death ut Alexander
of Macedon and his stable boy on a par."4
Murrow told White that his reports "probably aren't quan-
tifiable you know, the old journalist's trick: 'so many
peOple in the shelters, men vs. women, so many boys, so
many girls,‘ and all that."47 As a reporter, Murrow was
attempting to forget that London was a city filled with
"lots of numbers" in order to remind his listeners that
he was, instead, "observing life as it is being lived,
each day.“48
One of the "journalist's tricks" Murrow wanted to
avoid was a reliance upon official government sources for
his information. He knew most reporters stationed in
London made a daily trek to the public information offices
in Whitehall or at the House of Commons for their material.
Since the British government imposed strict censorship on
any "negative information," public information officers
invariably presented handouts that were testaments to the
normalcy of British life. "The newspaper correspondents,
and some of my radio colleagues, are taken in by all of

this stuff," Murrow noted at the time. "They make it seem

as if nothing were happening here . . . the war, in short,

89

is a bore because all of them wind up at the handout

"49

factories of the government. He sarcastically told

White that government censors were working "hand in glove"
with foreign correspondents, "many of whom are too damn

lazy to check things out for themselves. No wonder America

50

thinks things are just dandy over here." An early 1940

broadcast reflected this disenchantment of Murrow's:

My reports are personal impressions . . . that some-
times don't coincide with official information. They
cannot be taken as any sort of gospel truth, but I
have an old-fashioned belief that Americans like to
make up their own minds on the basis of different
kinds of information. The conclusions you draw are
your own affair. I have no desire to influence them,
and shall leave such efforts to those who have more 51
confidence in their own judgment than I have in mine.

Almost every broadcast Murrow delivered throughout

1940 dealt with a tOpic he thought would have some impact
"beyond the immediate moment." He chose tOpics that could
be viewed in a universal context. The following example
of a Murrow report was typical of his style. He noticed
the effect the evacuation of London's children was having,
not only on the city itself but also on the reporter who
was observing.

A particular aspect of the war didn't hit me with

full force until this afternoon--Saturday afternoon

over here. It's dull in London now that the children

are gone. For six days I've not heard a child's voice.

And that's a strange feeling. No youngsters shouting

their way home from school. One needs the eloquence

of the ancients, I think, to convey the full meaning

of it. There just aren't any more children.5

A journal entry Murrow made shortly after the above broad-

cast noted, "it is hard to separate my feelings from my

90

work. The missing children held a great deal of meaning
for me; the report was better because of that fact."53
William Paley sent him a short note and eXpressed his
"fascination for the intense interest in human nature you
evidence. You are developing an intriguing style, Ed."
Paley was so pleased with Murrow's work he told White to
"let Murrow have free rein in his broadcasts. He makes
all of us look great."54
Murrow realized much of his reporting before the
summer of 1940 was, as he referred to it, "impressionistic."
He would spend hours each day going over his notes, search-
ing for the right choice of words to describe an event.
His initial drafts of broadcasts included everything he
had seen, for example, while lunching with the Chief of
the Imperial General Staff at the War Office. He noted
down all he could about General Sir Edmund Ironside: the
way he dressed, facial mannerisms, speech inflections.
Since Murrow wanted to present a graphic "over-the-air
illustration" of Ironside's personality, the changes in
his draft rewrites are indicative of his intentions. The
Ironside report went through five drafts before Murrow was

satisfied he had "captured the idea."

First draft (lead)

 

General Sir Edmund Ironside is an important member
of the British war establishment. Legends about
him have followed in his wake since the First World
War. He says he has prepared for war all his life,
and he is sure he can provide the kind of leadership
England needs to defeat Germany.

91

Second draft (lead)

 

I recently met with the t0p military man in England,

General Sir Edmund Ironside. He is a big man whose

appearance seems to inspire confidence in his sub-

ordinates. The people who surround him admire him

for his devotion to the details of war. He is the

total soldier.
Murrow was dissatisfied with the first two drafts. Marginal
notations at the bottom noted: "doesn't tell about the guy
. . . what about him? Why important? Rewrite." By the
time he reached the fifth and final draft, he was happy
with the lead and used it during the actual broadcast
report. There were more details provided but, at the same
time, he felt the choice of words would "impress strongly
on the mind of one who has no idea what a man like this

is really about."

Final draft (lead)

 

I should like to tell you about a man, a big man,
six feet four inches of him, big and broad, with
slender athletic legs which give him a top-heavy
appearance. Legends about him have grown up. His
name has a well-rounded sound calculated to inSpire
confidence, General Sir Edmund Ironside, Chief of
the Imperial General Staff and England's number one
soldier. He is fifty nine and looks ten years younger.
He is a storybook soldier, big, tough, brown-faced,
gray hair and a little mustache. When you see him
in a roomful of generals and admirals, he sigms to
be looking over the heads of a lot of them.

Ironside's stature as a military leader, therefore, was
described in terms of his "total presence." Murrow added
more details about the general's ideas concerning total
war, patriotism, and the fact that the war "would be fought

much differently than the previous one." The phrases

92

Murrow used were simply constructed yet, in the end, con-
tained enough information to introduce to his American
audience the concept of "professional soldiering." Murrow
believed that Americans at this point had little idea of
what "total war" was like, and they did not have to rely
upon the kind of military leadership the British did. But
Britain was at war. They were, in fact, led by men such
as Ironside, "whose stature was talked about endlessly by
peOple on the street." Murrow wanted his audience to
understand what it was like to be surrounded by the con-
stant presence of military leadership. "And that presence,"
he added at the end of his report, "can sometimes be under-
stood in terms of a physical image. It is, at any rate,
one way of approaching the necessary understanding."55
Murrow was not as interested in the leadership of
Britain as he was in "looking at the lives of average
citizens." He found most of his story material within
larger stories. For example, there were many reports in
the British and American press concerning the state of
British rearmament. American reporters frequently included

War Office supplied statistics about armament production.

During the summer of 1940, The New York Times ran a series

 

of articles, "The Statistics of British Preparedness."
Within this larger story Murrow saw the need to report,
in a more limited fashion, one particular facet of rearma—

ment production. He spent several days at a bayonet

93

factory in London, observing how pre-World War One methods
were still being employed by British workers. He left the
statistics to the Times and told about an old man, a worker
who had been casting bayonet molds since the Boer War, and
the way in which he spent his day.

Every day Jack Holston puts three hundred bayonets
in small brown boxes. He is the only man at the

end of a production line responsible for the final
packaging. He has been doing this for over forty
years, his hands showing the strain of innumerable
cuts and bruises. In a way, Jack Holston can be
used as an example when one talks about, or some-
times reads about, the state of British rearmament.
He is the only packager in the only factory manu-
facturing bayonets in Britain. And this country, if
she is to keep pace with her enemies, will need many
more Jack Holstons if she is to supply an entire
army. For his part, Jack Holston sees the problem
in plain terms. 'Nobody ever thought they'd need
there 'ere sticks again. Guess I knew all along

. . . peOple just keep killin' each other off.‘

Jack Holston, seventy nine years old, seems to know
as much, if not more, than those who kept believing
peace 'in our time' was possible.

Murrow called this kind of reporting "using a sort of close
focus . . . like a photographer does to make a certain
point." The broadcast was intended to convey a degree of
understatement: if Britain was indeed unprepared for
waging modern warfare, it could be understood, in part,
when one knew of Jack Holston's lone vigil at the end of
the bayonet production line.

As the war in EurOpe intensified, the bulk of the
radio reports CBS received from correspondents in EurOpe
dealt more and more with military activities. The Germans

invaded Denmark and Norway in early April 1940 in

94

preparation for their onslaught against Belgium and
France. Shirer was still managing to send out broadcasts
from Berlin, but he was forced by the Ministry of Pr0pa-
ganda to restrict all reports to "information concerning
military actions." At the direct order of Josef Goebbels,
foreign correspondents, especially American radio journal-
ists, were not permitted to report any news whatsoever
dealing with "domestic matters within the Reich."57

In France, Eric Sevareid was interested in the
state of French military preparations and the political
machinations taking place within the crumbling Third
Republic. His broadcasts were oriented toward military-
political news, and included interviews with officials
and members of the French General Staff.58 Murrow admired
Sevareid's work, found it to be "complete and accurate."

But in London, Murrow was interested in providing another
kind of reporting.

Murrow was delivering broadcasts dealing with
people: fishmongers in Soho, teamsters in Covent Garden,
schoolteachers in near-empty classrooms. He tried to
counterbalance the political-military emphasis of his
colleagues with "bits and pieces of life in London."
Although he did not object to the kind of reporting being
done by Shirer and Sevareid, he was not completely convinced
every "News Roundup" need be about "battles, generals, and

cabinet decisions."59

95

His reports continued to "focus down," as he told

White, "on scenes that are much different than those Shirer
sees in Germany." While Shirer was attempting to make some
sense out of German military announcements, Murrow was
looking at another, much quieter scene in London. "I
walked for a long time today," he stated on one occasion,

and many of the streets were practically deserted.

There were long services in Westminster Abbey--

longer than usual-~and the bells of St. Martin's-

in-the—Fields echoed through the streets that were

nearly half-empty. While some prayed, others

attended the traditional fair on Hampstead Heath.

In most of the parks in London the crocuses are

out in full strength, looking like brightly painted

toy soldiers marching through a green meadow.
The day Sevareid reported "growing French military appre-
hension about the state of their defenses," Murrow ended
the "News Roundup" with a detailed description of an air-
raid drill in an East End elementary school.

When I watched these tiny children crouch under their

seats, their faces filled with fear, I understood

what this war means in a way. A small child came up

to me, her face lost in a giant gas mask, and told

me she wondered whether her mask was meant for a

child. After the drill, many of these children

could not return to their work. They were simply

too frightened.61
A report about a Parliamentary speech dealt only in part
with the speech itself. Murrow was much more concerned
his audience understand the "mood of Commons" on the
evening Winston Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty,

spoke:

96

His arrival in the packed House of Commons was
greeted by that low-pitched roar reserved by the
House for ministers who enjoy the confidence and
respect of all political parties, Mr. Churchill was
tired, his face expressionless, as he walked down
to his seat beside the Prime Minister. He rubbed
his eyes, whiSpered a few words to Mr. Chamberlain,
put on his spectacles, and began a speech that was
to last for nearly an hour and ten minutes.

Before Mr. Churchill arrived, there was an air of
exaggerated casualness, as if the members were
determined not to display by words or facial expres—
Sions their uncertainty and desire for news. It was
a fighting Speech, full of confidence but with a
warning that heavy blows are to be expected. When
he Spoke of dive-bombing, his left hand was the
German cruiser and his descending right hand the
British bomber. On one occasion he had difficulty
reading his notes. One had the feeling tggt nearly
everyone in the house wanted to help him.

In almost every one of the broadcasts Murrow
delivered during the Spring of 1940, the central theme
was always: how are individual British citizens c0ping
with the war. He placed his subjects within the environ-
ments most familiar to them, and he devoted equal time to
descriptions of both. "It is impossible to fully under-
stand what a person is over here," a journal entry noted,

d."63

"unless the surroundings are explaine When the War

Office began to cover pub walls with recruitment posters
exhorting Britons to "Go All Out for the King," Murrow
centered a broadcast around an overheard conversation
between two London dockworkers.
The pub was gaily decorated with these posters.
And the heavy smoke of the peOple there circulated
around the dark red lettering of the posters, giving
off a hazy quality to the written messages extolling

patriotism. Two dockworkers were sitting beneath
one poster. They began to argue whether it was worth

97

it to join the armed forces. One turned to his mate,
raised his oil-stained arm and pointed to the poster.
'See this 'ere smoke,‘ he said. 'This is what you

get caught up in during battle. That's what happens
to your body in time. Makes a body think, don't it?‘

64
In late May 1940, as German forces pushed the
British Expeditionary Force all the way up to the Channel
port of Dunkerque, the war suddenly became more obvious
to the British home front. Murrow spent May 29th on a
troop train returning to London with wounded British and
French troops evacuated from France. He wrote a broadcast
report that tried, as he told Shirer years later, "to
convey a sense of the vivid images I saw that morning.
Everything I saw was wrapped around the haunting faces of
the troops." "The white dust of France was Still on
their shoes," his broadcast began,
their uniforms were dirty. The men were brown and
looked fit and tough. If they were disgusted or
defeated, they didn't show it. Most of them were
smiling and waving. Only occasionally did you see
one who sat staring without seeing, as though trying
to remember something he had seen, or perhaps trying
to forget. And yet, despite the greater sense of '
relief, the low-pitched moan of the wounded per-
meated the atmosphere. That and the hushed prayers
of Last Rites being Spoken by French priests who
rode along with us. Relief and pain were everywhere.
When he returned to London, the city's mood was
grave. Although the retreat from Dunkerque was being
officially proclaimed as a "great tactical victory" by

the British press and the BBC, Murrow sensed another mood

among citizens in the streets. He wrote a Short report

98

about his walk home from Victoria Station after leaving
the troop train.

The Londoners are doing their best to preserve a
sense of humor . . . but I saw more grave, solemn
faces today than I have ever seen in London.
Fashionable tearooms were almost deserted; the

shops on Bond Street were doing little, if any
business. People read newspapers as they walked
along the streets. I saw one woman standing in line
waiting for a bus begin to cry, quietly. She didn't
bother to wipe the tears away. In a square off Regent
Street a large man, carrying a sandwich board Sign.
The Sign read: Watch and Pray.6

He devoted an entire week's broadcasts to Londoners' feel—
ings about the British setback in Europe. After spending
time with several families, he reported what "dinner con-
versations" were like when "constant talk of war totally

67 He ran to air-raid shelters when

dissolves appetites."
the Sirens rang, noted the reactions of the people "hud-
dling together for protection . . . Stranger touching
stranger without any Sign of fear or apprehension." He
told of the prayers he heard being mumbled in the Shelters,
"some of which I haven't heard Since my mother prayed with
me as a child. But these people seem to be praying for
the whole world."68
The summer of 1940 saw France fall to the German
army, "and the mood in the Lyons Corner House," Murrow
stated on the air, "was so deSpondent that peOple simply

could not Speak coherently to one another."69

By mid-
summer, Goering's Luftwaffe began a massive air assault

against Britain. The Germans started their bombing runs

99

over the countryside, striking at scattered British air
bases. In early September Goering publicly stated that
Britain would be "brought to her knees." London was now
subjected to continuous bombing.

On September 2, 1940, seven hundred German bombers
attacked London. The Battle of Britain began with heavy
civilian losses. Paul White sent Murrow an emergency
cable: Avoid getting hurt. Report only from studio."
Murrow never answered, however. He was on the BBC's roof
watching flames engulf the London docks. He was also

Speaking into a microphone.70

With the start of the Battle of Britain, Murrow's
broadcasts became featured at the beginning of each "CBS
News Roundup." White told him to extend the length of his
reports. "All we want," White added, "is that you get
down everything you see." Murrow's assignment was not
only to record the air war against London, but "to treat
the manner in which the war is being waged against all of
England."71 "I am more of a participant in this business
than ever before," he wrote to Ida Lou Anderson, "for now
I can tell what it's like to see bombs fall. To see
destruction everywhere. And to know what fear is like."72

The German bombing of London held universal meaning
for Murrow. He viewed the air-raids in terms of "highly

"73

individual responses to great danger. In each act of

100

bravery, survival, or strength, Murrow attached an implicit
moral message: the British were not only fighting a war
for diplomatic and economic reasons, they were standing up
against evil. Long after Murrow had achieved prominence
as a television broadcaster, Robert Lewis Shayon, a co-
worker of Murrow's at CBS, noted a peculiar ambivalence in
Murrow's reporting during the war. "He was often caught
in a Strange nexus," Shayon stated, "between the role of
journalist and that of a preacher, manifesting the religious
Spirit in his work he had learned from his early youth."74
The "reporter-preacher" in Murrow, however, was one of the
major reasons his work was so very different from the other
radio journalists who flocked to London in 1940. "Murrow
saw the news as a series of living events," Eric Sevareid
said in 1947. "People, not numbers were involved."

He could absorb and reflect the thoughts and

emotions of day laborers or airplane pilots . . .

and report with exact truth what they were about.

His whole being was enmeshed in the circumstances

of those days and events. One can read his broad~

casts years later and find London all around—-its

sights and sounds, its very smells and feelings.

He was a kind of Boswell to a great city's trial by

fire. 5

The stylistic response Murrow made to what he

observed rarely varied: a reconstruction of events through
the reactions of individuals under severe pressure. This
was not, of course, a new kind of journalism. There had

been a long tradition in American journalism in which

journalists concentrated on singular human reactions to

lOl

larger circumstances.76 But Murrow was utilizing a dif—
ferent medium. Radio could, he felt, be used as "an
intimate form of mass communication . . . one that allows
me, for example, to Speak directly to people, and when I
am accused of being biased,"
I simply remind my accuser there is no way I can
observe something happening, be it trivial or
magnificent, and run back to a mike and Speak
blandly into that wired instrument. Obviously I
emphasize events that impress me: what reporter
doesn't? In neWSpaper reporting, a writer plays
up one angle or another, organizes his story around
a key quote or phrase. I do the same thing in radio
reporting. But here I use my voice and my frail
ability to describe. What, then, is the difference?
Although Murrow continued to build his broadcast
reports around individual lives, he began to include more
than one such portrait within each separate broadcast.
He told White he was following "an essay-like pattern,
beginning with a mood piece, then a point-by-point

"78 With the expanded air time pro-

description of things.
vided by CBS, his broadcasts conformed to a set pattern:
a Short introduction, a description of one individual's
reactions, a transitional paragraph leading into a second
profile, a closing statement. And within each particular
segment, he never allowed his participation in the event
to become overbearing. He was simply trying to convey
the feeling that, as he stated in one such broadcast, "I
was there. I saw and tried to understand this particular

point in time."79

102

He chose his words carefully when writing the intro-
ductory segment. Most often, he would begin slowly with a
detailed description of his arrival at the scene of a
particular event:

Yesterday afternoon--it seems days ago now--I drove
down to the East End of London, the East India Dock
Road, the Commercial Road, through Silverton down to
the mouth of the Thames Estuary. It was a quiet and
pleasant trip through those streets running between
rows of workingclass houses, with the cranes, the
docks, the ships and the oil tanks off on the right.
And then an air-raid siren, called 'Weeping Willie'80
by the men who tend it, began its uneven screaming.

The above broadcast introduced an account of the first
large-scale air raid over the London docks, quickly moved
into a lengthy summary of Murrow's recollections: a profile
of two London firemen fighting the blaze at the East India
Dock "as the sky was darkening like a locust plague." AS
the German planes finally leave, Murrow Slows the pace down.
He introduces another lengthy description:

We went to a nearby pub for dinner. Children were

already organizing a hunt for bits of shrapnel.

Under some bushes beside the road there was a

baker's cart. Two boys, still sobbing, were trying

to get a quivering bay mare back between the Shafts.

The lady who ran the pub told us that these raids

were bad for the chickens, the dogs, and the

horses. A toothless old man of nearly seventy came

in and asked for a pint of mild and bitters, con-

fided he had always gone to bed at eight o'clock and

now found that three pints of beer made him drowsy

so he could sleep through any air-raid.
After several more paragraphs in which the two firemen
are again referred to ("this young fireman kept beating

his hands against the wall, crying, his two hour attempt

103

to free an old woman from the wreckage had ended in
failure"), Murrow moved to his conclusion.

People all over the East End are now homeless, men

with white scarves around their necks instead of

collars and ties leading dull-eyed, empty-faced

women across to the buses. Most of them carried

cheap cardboard suitcases and sometimes bulging

paper bags. That was all they had left. There

was still fire and smoke along the river, but the

firefighters and the demolition squads have done

their work well.

And in a small line, a few dirty-faced, towheaded

children, holding their thumbs up, the Sign of the

men who came back from Dunkirk.8
The moral message of the broadcast lay within this last
sentence. In spite of everything they had endured during
one night's bombing, peOple did survive. "They just don't
give up too easily," Murrow wrote White, "and I can write
about their fight to live without being dishonest or
prOpagandizing a certain cause. It is, after all, a kind
of universal thing . . . survival, that is."83

To make the war in Britain vivid to his listeners,

to bring them to what William Stott has called "the real
thing," Murrow found an almost poetic way of phrasing his
observations. "I think I know what the mind retains," an
entry in his journal stated, "and it pertains to a

described reality."84

"Reality," as Murrow saw it,
appeared in the minute description as well as in the
larger, more comprehensive picture. In an attempt to

relate what it was like to feel "absolute terror, feeling

someone was dying nearby," he compared the sound he heard

104

inside of a bombed-out ShOp to "a can of heavy syrup,

85

Slowly dripping to the floor." On another occasion he

placed his micrOphone next to the pavement in Trafalgar
Square as people ran to an air-raid shelter during an
alert. "This is what London sounds like these days," he

stated, "and it is a sound of hundreds of feet running to

"86

hide. And though Murrow told his staff "never to sound

excited on the air," he would violate his own rule more
than once. His voice would audibly quiver with emotion
as he described what the bombing was like in different
sections of London. On the night when Goering sent off
yet another massive number of bombers over Central London,
Murrow was on the roof of Broadcasting House, watching
and talking into his microphone:

I'm standing on a roof top overlooking London. At
the moment, everything is quiet. For reasons of
personal as well as national security, I'm unable to
tell you the exact location from which I'm speaking.
Off to my left, far away in the distance, I can see
the faint, red angry snap of anti-aircraft bursts
against the steel blue sky . . . you may be able to
hear the sound of the guns [here, Murrow's voice
began to tremble] off in the distance very faintly,
like someone kicking a tub.

The lights are swinging over in this direction now.
[Murrow pauses between each word at this point;
voice again trembling.] You'll hear two explosions.
There they are! That was the explosion overhead,
not the guns. Earlier this evening we heard a
number of bombs go off slithering and sliding, to
fall a few blocks away. The searchlights are
directly overhead. Now, you'll hear two bursts a
little nearer in a moment. There they are! That
hard, stony sound.

105

"I guess I've broken a rule," Murrow cabled White after the
above broadcast. "But was too damn wrapped up in every—
thing. Rule just no good!"

To White and Paley in New York, everything their
London correspondent was sending via short wave "sounded
great." White again instructed Murrow "to play it a
little safer," but Murrow persisted in following the bomb-
ing as it was actually happening, followed by a BBC engi—

88 When the air raids

neer carrying bulky remote equipment.
against London finally ended in late September 1940, Murrow
had been reporting at least once per day. He described
massive fires, the widespread destruction of whole sections
in London's poorer districts, profiled doctors, teachers,
families sleeping underground in the subway Shelters. He
found a way of isolating the terror of those few weeks
through his detailed, impressionistic studies of individ-
uals. AS the raids grew less intense, Murrow tried to sum
up what he had seen for three straight weeks.

No one knows the dollar value of the damage done.

Nobody talks about it. People who have had their

homes or offices destroyed will tell you about it,

but they never think to tell you what the loss

amounted to, whether it be in so many tens or

hundreds of pounds. The lead of any well-written

news story dealing with fire, flood, or hurricane

should tell you something of the total damage done

in terms of dollars. But here, in London, it's

much more important that the bomb missed you.

Death has no price. Life does.

The fact that Londoners had survived, had managed

to continue living as their city burned around them, was

106

the major theme in Murrow's London broadcasts. He often
conveyed this theme in subtle ways. A walk through the
city was used as an example of Londoners' will to survive.
I walked through some of the streets I have known so
well. The big red buses roll. The tolling of Big
Ben can be heard in the intervals of gunfire. The
little Italian and French restaurants in Soho bring
out their whitest linens and polish their Silver for
the two or three guests who brave the blackout.
In many buildings tonight people are Sleeping on
mattresses on the floor. I've seen dozens of them6
looking like dolls thrown aside by a tired child.9
William Paley told Murrow that he could take time off and
return to New York, "for a rest." Murrow never took a
vacation. He was, as he wrote to his mother, "too busy

following British troops around."91

Throughout 1941 and 1942, Murrow's broadcasts from
Britain were devoted to a continued examination of life
during wartime. Along with his reporting duties for CBS,
he hosted an interview program for the BBC, "Freedom's
Forum." His broadcasts during the Blitz were also used
by the BBC and he developed a large British following,
many of whom wrote directly to the BBC'S Director, Lord
Reith, asking if Murrow "could please appear regularly."
"Freedom's Forum" featured interviews with bus drivers and
subway attendants, Londoners' living in the massive under-
ground tube shelters, housewives--indeed anyone Murrow
felt could talk about the pressures of living in Britain.

He frequently found his subjects in the East End of London

107

and, much to the dismay of the proper and conservative
Reith, allowed them to Openly criticize food shortages and

"the daily routine of checking the casualty lists to see

if a husband or a son was among the missing or dead."92

With the Americans now actively involved in the
war, Murrow felt his reports should include "profiles" of

the service men who were pouring into Britain from "all

sorts of places, like Montana and New York and Iowa."93

He devoted seventy broadcasts in 1942 to detailed portraits
of individual enlisted men, "most of whom,"he noted in one
broadcast, "are frightened by what's coming." He knew that
his American audience "would be much more interested in

the plight of the enlisted boys," he told White, "than in

"94

any mumbo—jumbo stuff about the Big Brass. He followed

around a few American privates for a week, observed "their
confusion in a new setting," and found he had enough
material for several broadcasts.

Sometimes, these boys look as if they are still
looking for the corner drug store, or expect to see
their old high school around the corner. But for
Buck Private Wilson Thomas, Soho looked like nothing
he had ever seen before: the sounds and smells of a
place his geography teacher once told him about, ten
years ago, in Ames, Iowa. Thomas' wide-eyed looks
are punctuated, however, by the gnawing suspicion that
this just won't last. For the British, you see,

have a habit--a long time tradition going back to the
19th century-—of posting casualty lists in public
places. Wilson Thomas studies these lists, a nervous
smile passing over his face. And he continues to
walk, not talking to his companions5 His geography
teacher never told him about that.

108

Although Murrow's reports were almost solely about
British life, he began to take an interest in larger
European affairs. By the end of 1942, reports began to
reach his office-~transmitted by escaped concentration
camp inmates-~dealing with the murder of nearly a million
Jews in occupied Europe. The American media ignored

similar stories, unable, as one correspondent told Murrow,

"96

"to really put any faith in such horror tales. But

Murrow trusted his sources, men he had known indirectly
from his stay in Austria, and he felt responsible to "tell
what I have learned, incredible as it may seem to someone
in Manhattan or Seattle." In late December 1942, he broad-
cast the first word of genocidal activities in Europe.

"I wanted to get maximum impact," he told White, "so I

built up Slowly."97

One of the nice things about talking from London on
Sunday night is that one can Sit down, review the
events of the week. Sometimes it's like putting
letters in a hollow log or talking to yourself in a
dark room. But tonight it's a little different.

One is almost Stunned into silence by some of the
information reaching London. Some of it months old,
but it's supported by a wealth of eyewitness detail.

What is happening is this: millions of Jews, human
beings, are being gathered up with ruthless effici-
ency and murdered. It is a horror beyond what the
human imagination can grasp. Let me tell you what's
happened in the Warsaw ghetto. It was never a
pleasant place, even in peacetime. The business
started in the middle of July. Ten thousand people
were rounded up each day. The infirm, the old and
the crippled were killed in their homes. The others
were put in freight cars; the floors were covered
by quick-lime and chlorine.

109

The phrase 'concentration campS' is now obsolete,

as out of date as 'economic sanctions' or 'non-

recognition.‘ It is now possible to speak only of

extermination camps.
Murrow ended this particular broadcast with a long
description of an "open, mass grave site . . . filled with
the dead and the half dead. Men, women, children: all of
them there." In another report, Murrow devoted a lengthy
passage--once again supported by eye-witnesses he knew
from Austria—-about the brutality of concentration camp
guards. "These men commit acts beyond my own comprehension,"
he wrote in his script, "and, at one camp outside of Munich--
a city once filled with music--there are reports of inmates
begging to be shot, often as they hold their children."98

Despite the dangers Murrow exposed himself to during
the Blitz, he was beginning to feel that he was not pro-
viding enough "action reports" for CBS. He received per-
mission to leave London to do some "battlefield reporting"
in the spring of 1943. "I want to get out there and write,"
he told Shirer, "not so much because I want to see death,
rather to see war as it is fought by men."99
Murrow arranged to be attached to a company of

American infantrymen fighting in North Africa. He left
his London desk to Robert Trout and John Daly. He spent a
long, hard month with American trOOpS there, most of whom
were recent arrivals from training camps. When he began

sending back broadcasts to London, Daly noticed that

Murrow "was managing to capture something that we have

110

missed so often . . . a sense of what war is like."100

Murrow was, as several American correspondents observed in
their dispatches to their home papers, "following these
boys around, always conscious of their behavior, writing

down everything."101

Murrow's idea of the fighting he
witnessed was that "frightened young people are out here
in a bizarre hell-like atmosphere . . . and I want to
tell you about them, one by one." He tried to emphasize
both the confusion and the fear combat inspired in the
reporter as well in the "boys" he was observing.
There were two privates beside the road. One came
from Delaware, the other from the Texas Panhandle.
One said he thought he knew what this country was
fighting for . . . maybe. The other confided he had
received two valentines, one mailed last year.
Neither one of them has figured what this war is
all about. Neither one came back from patrol.102
At the same time, he would emphasize details about the
North African landscape as if description alone was capable
of serving as an ironic counterpoint to his narration of
the fighting.
Finally you reach the point of the ridge. The guns
are well behind you. At first there seems to be
blue smoke floating knee-high in one of the little
side valleys three miles away. You realize that
little valley is knee—deep with morning glories . . .
no trenches, no bayonets glinting in the sun. Just
that peisgful valley and the explosions on the hill
beyond.
Murrow's intent was to place the radio listener at the
exact scene the reporter was observing. His constant use
of the personal pronoun was a device Murrow felt could,

as he told White, "allow for a kind of audience

111

. . . 104
part1c1pation." Hence, sentences appear, over and over

again in Murrow's war reporting, that seek to draw his
audience into the description: "You feel a cold, biting
wind" or "You know what fear is like when you see a German
soldier sitting, smiling against a tank. He is covered
with dust and he is dead. You know what it is like."105
He noted in his journal:

Anyone who listens to news on the radio has to feel

a sense of trust with the reporter. One does this by

never allowing an individual listener to escape from

the words one uses as descriptive or narrative tools.

I stick peOple, or try to at least, in the middle of

where I am at any one tsme. This is what I am trying

to do/say/write about.1 6

Throughout his month in North Africa, Murrow was

not able to escape from the more horrifying aSpects of the
campaign. In several broadcasts he detailed the events
taking place in a busy field hospital, "where the sickening
stench of death cannot be washed away. Even if you use
Army-supplied detergent, that odor sticks to every pore."107
The dead and dying soldiers were always present in his
reports. "One describes them because it has happened, is
happening," he began one report, "and death is a daily
routine for all of us who are here." His descriptions
more often than not concentrated on the individual soldier:

A young British lieutenant lies with his head on

his arms, as though shielding himself from the

wind. He is dead, too. Near him is a German

anti-tank gun, its muzzle pointing at the sky.108

By the time Murrow reached the end of his month-long tour

with his American company, he was convinced the war could

112

not be reported in terms of the tactics of Allied officers
in Tangiers. "It is about the men, individually described,
who are fighting in a war many knew would just keep going
on and on and on."109
He returned to London physically and mentally
exhausted. His coverage in North Africa was applauded by
CBS as welféby thousands of listeners who wrote directly
to William Paley. His state of mind, however, forced him
to go on vacation for several weeks. White told the CBS
news staff in New York that "Ed has just seen too many
unpleasant things, and he cannot forget any of them."110
Although Murrow recovered his strength soon after his
return, he felt compelled to "get back to" the war zone
as quickly as possible. "It's not that my being in England
isn't important," his conclusion to a report stated, "merely

"111 He attached

that I feel the need to be a witness again.
himself to the American air corps in England and, in
December 1943, after "much arguing and pleading," was
allowed to fly on missions along with American bomber
crews over Germany.

For several weeks Murrow Spent every moment with
his American crew. He recorded his impressions in one of
his most memorable wartime broadcasts, delivered almost
immediately after he returned to his base. It was his

longest report, "The Flight of D—Dog Over Berlin." After

a thousand word description of the in-flight preparations

113

the crew of "D-Dog" made during the bombing run, Murrow
related what it was like to see bombs drOp over a large
city:
Berlin was a kind of orchestrated hell, a terrible
symphony of light and flame. It isn't the kind of
warfare that is p1easant--the men doing it speak
of it as a job. Yesterday afternoon, when the tapes
were stretched out on the big map all the way to
Berlin and back again, a young pilot with old eyes
said to me, 'I see we're working again tonight.‘
That's the frame of mind in which the job is being
done. The job isn't pleasant; it's terribly tiring.
Men die in the sky while others are roasted alive
in their cellars. Berlin last night wasn't a pretty
sight. This is a calculated, relentless, remorse-
1ess campaign of destruction. Right now the mechanics
are probably working 3n 'D—Dog' again, getting him
ready to fly again. 1
White told Murrow his broadcast "was probably the best I
have ever heard at CBS; hell, anywhere. I hope, Ed, you
are now cured. Please, please, don't do that stuff again.

113 Murrow's broadcast from

We need you in one piece."
England was reprinted by all of the American wire-services.
It was, as a UPI bureau chief in Boston wrote, "simply
superb . . . mainly because it was so different from our
normal stuff."114

Murrow had little time, however, to glory in the
accolades from White. He was busily preparing a series
of reports about life in Britain, following a pattern he
had established so early in his career. Now that the war
was beginning to turn dramatically in the Allies favor,

he found the British people were trying, "as best they

can," to live "with a semblance of normality." He covered

114

the trials of conscientious objectors at military bases,
the night life in West End clubs, the speeches of radical
Labor politicians who still Spoke about utopian society
to their constituencies in Birmingham and Manchester.115
"It is as if the war here and in EurOpe is causing each
element in British society to consider the future," he
concluded one broadcast. "The war, it seems, is a catalyst
of immense power. Things will never, ever be the same
again."116

Throughout the beginning of 1944, Murrow was
actively involved with his BBC program, "Freedom's Forum."
At the same time, he received cryptic hints from New York
that he "better start planning" for coverage of any pos-
sible land-based invasion of Europe by Allied forces. He
received no details, no further explanation. But he knew
what it all meant: the long-awaited invasion of Europe
was getting closer.

Thousands of correspondents were pouring into
London during 1944. Murrow's BBC office became a central
meeting place for American journalists, many of whom
depended upon the CBS radio news reporter for tips and
contacts in Britain. They often expressed interest in
the sources of so many of Murrow's broadcasts. "While I
was hanging around Eisenhower's office in London," one

reporter stated, "Ed Murrow was visiting prisoner-of-war

camps and hanging about Soho fish stands getting his

115

material."117

Murrow was still more impressed with what
he referred to "as the bits and pieces of life" than he
was in political or military planning. His broadcasts up
to April 1944 were exclusively devoted to individuals
"just getting by despite all of the privations war
imposes."118
In late April, Murrow had finally made.arrangements
for "blanket coverage" of any impending military invasion.
Under the threat of military law, he and the other corres-
pondents were now pledged to total Silence. AS American,
British, and Canadian troops massed along the southern
coast of Britain, Murrow was there. He was writing
furiously, gathering material for eventual reports when
censorship was lifted. Security was extremely apparent
to every journalist, but Murrow used his time to interview
the trOOpS and he stayed away from the official briefings
Sponsored by the Allied command. "Most of their stuff
is useless, anyhow," he told Shirer, "and nobody can
understand what they are saying."119
Murrow assigned Charles Collingwood, John Daly,
Larry Le Seur, Wright Bryan, Charles Shaw of CBS to go in
with the first invasion wave. On June 6, 1944, as
Eisenhower gave the final order--and in turn released
the press from its officially imposed silence-~Murrow was

on the air from London, coordinating the invasion broad-

casts. At the same time, Murrow was using all of the

116

material he had gathered in the pre-invasion weeks for his
own reports. He tried to "set the scene" by presenting
carefully written reports about "the tension-ridden atmos-
phere" in London:

Here in London, peOple walk around the streets,

staring at one another, hardly able to believe

what is taking place. There was no excitement,

just a steady undertone of remarkable expectation.

I almost wanted to say to them, 'Don't you know

that history is being made today?‘ They realized

it, all right, but their emotions were under com-

plete control.
In between reports sent in by the CBS correSpondentS who
were now with Allied troops, Murrow described the soldiers
he had spent so much time with prior to the actual
invasion. He profiled farmers from Iowa and "the cocky
New York" teenagers who are suddenly faced with the thought
that somebody will be soon trying to kill them." He spent
two broadcasts explaining what it was like for glider
pilots "to constantly worry whether their fragile ships--
ships that will gracefully and silently settle behind
enemy lines-~will survive the journey." He told White
after the invasion that "I saw too much of the human ele-
ment in the war to ignore it toward the end. The boys did
a good job covering the action. I was doing something
different."121

As soon as the Allied beachheads were secured,

Murrow managed to fly over to the continent. He visited

hospitals and field aid stations. The misery he saw

appalled him and the Shell-torn landscape of France

117

blended together and formed the basis of broadcasts he sent
via short wave to London. He described what he saw "as
ghost-like, the empty faces of the wounded and the dying
mixed together with the agonized sounds of war."122 His
reports were filled with lengthy descriptions of American
and Canadian soldiers "in their various states of break-

"123 And in one

down, or euphoria, or sheer exhaustion.
emotional broadcast--eventually censored by Allied author-
ities who felt the subject too "controversial"--he told
what it was like to sit beside the cot of a dying enlisted
man, "watching the life disappear, the vacant look from

eyes everywhere."124

"The war has become a nightmare for
me," a journal entry from this period stated, "and I feel
everything is coming together as a bad dream, endlessly
repeated."125
He returned to London at the end of June 1944.
William Paley, now himself attached to Eisenhower's public
information staff, asked Murrow to "stay away from the
personal reporting stuff" and to concentrate on "just
reading the complicated news." Information was pouring
into London so quickly, one news release after another
marked "Of Utmost Importance," that Murrow spent most of
1944 organizing the information, double-checking the
veracity of reports from correspondents, and had no time

to do any of his own reporting. He did not regret his

"leave of absence" from the field. "I need a break," he

118

told White, "and I don't think I could escape from a

126

responsibility handed down by Bill Paley." He continued

handling routine news chores until the end of 1944 when
John Daly took over. In November, Murrow returned to the
air with a "mood report" about London. It was as if he
wanted to convey to his audience how the passage of time
had "made its mark on this city,"

since you have been exposed to a lot of information
about battles and politics, you may have forgotten
London itself. There is a dim light here now. And
when I leave this studio tonight I Shall walk up a
street where there is light. You come to know a
street pretty well in five and a half years-—the
holes in the wooden paving blocks where the incendi-
aries burnt themselves out, the synagogue on the
right, with the placard that has defied four winters.
Tonight, there will be a little street light just
near there, and I shall be able to read the legend:
'Blessed is he whose conscience has not condemned
him and who is not fallen from his hOpe in the
Lord.‘ It is a street where in '40 and '41 the
fires made the raindrops on the windows look like
drops of blood on a mirror It iS an unimportant
street where friends died.127

In 1945, Murrow requested a few weeks of vacation,
claiming he was "too tired to go on." He returned to his
work soon after, however, and once again was attached to
American forces, this time with Patton's Third Army on
its way to Germany. He broadcast very little during his
tenure with Patton, using his time to send short dispatches
back to London. AS German forces retreated in April 1945,
Murrow found he was "totally incapable" of writing and

Speaking about the horrors I have seen of late." His only

119

means of maintaining his "sanity" was to provide CBS with
a continuous supply of rewritten announcements. In mid-
April, he entered Buchenwald concentration camp, four
miles outside of Weimar. He could no longer be silent.
Although his report was not delivered until he flew back
to London, it had an immediacy that caused several staff
engineers in the cramped BBC studio to weep aloud. Its
content had the same impact on the reporter:

Permit me to tell you what you would have seen, and
heard, had you been with me on Thursday. It will
not be pleasant listening. If you are at lunch, or
if you have no appetite to hear what the Germans
have done, now is a good time to switch off the
radio, for I propose to tell you of Buchenwald.

Murrow's voice, carried live from London, was audibly
breaking. He described his entrance into the camp.

And now, let me tell you this in the first person,
for I was the least important person there, as you
shall hear. There surged around me an evil-smelling
horde. Men and boys reached out to touch me; they
were in rags and remnants of uniform. Death had
already marked many of them, but they were smiling
with their eyes. I looked out over that mass of men
to the green fields beyond where well—fed Germans
were ploughing.

When I reached the center of a barracks, a man came
and said, 'You remember me, I'm Peter Zenkl, one-
time mayor of Prague.‘ I remembered him, but did not
recognize him. I asked him how many men had died in
that building . . . he called the doctor, we
inspected his records. They were only names in a
little black book.

And as we walked out into the courtyard, a man fell
dead. Two others--they must have been over sixty--
were crawling toward the latrine. I saw it but

will not describe it. In another part of the camp
they showed me the children, hundreds of them. Some
were only six. One rolled up his sleeve and showed

120

me his arm, tattooed. D—6030, it was. An elderly
man standing beside me said, 'The children, enemies
of the State.
The remainder of the report was a catalog of horror: the
crematoria, the bodies stacked in a ten foot high pile,
the emaciated look of the survivors, the great cavernous
hole the Germans had dumped bodies in as "production was
stepped up." By the time Murrow reached the conclusion of
his broadcast he was determined that his audience under-
stand.
As I left the camp, a Frenchman . . . came up to me
and said, 'You will write something about this,
perhaps?‘ And he added, 'To write about this you
must have been here for at least two years, and
after that--you don't want to write anymore.’
I pray you to believe what I have said about Buchen-
wald. I have reported what I have seen and heard,
but only part of it. For most of it I have no
words. Dead men are plentiful in war, but the
living dead, more than twenty thousand of them in
one camp. And the country around was pleasant to
the eye, and the Germans were well-fed and well
dressed. If I have offended you by this Eggher
mild account, I'm not in the least sorry.
The Buchenwald broadcast was one of the last reports
Murrow delivered from London. It was, as he noted in his
journal, "the summation of the war for me . . . the final
agony."129
After the German surrender in May 1945, Murrow
turned over his London post to Charles Collingwood. He
made his farewells to the BBC engineers he had worked
with for so many years. Paley told him that "a secure

future now lay ahead" as a major broadcast journalist.

l 121

Although Murrow was exhausted from his assignments, he
looked forward to his return to America. AS he was pre-
paring to make his final broadcast, a young CBS staff
member asked him what the war had meant to "all of us."
"I can't answer for 'all of us,'" Murrow replied, "but I
saw lots of peOple . . . saw them as individuals, saw
them when they acted nobly and base. I tried to look
closely. And what I saw was human reaction to hard
times."130

The war had forced American broadcasting to deal

with journalism as a serious and important function.

To Murrow, a journalist who had seen the birth of special-

ized coverage in Austria and during the Munich crisis, the

future of broadcast reporting would be, as he told William

Paley, "in the hands of men who direct this industry.

Somehow, we have to keep the promise alive. People have

listened, have been informed."131

Edward R. Murrow had contributed to the promise and had,
in the words of one radio critic, "made the war a study

of humanity in crisis."132

For nearly eight years,

CHAPTER III FOOTNOTES

1Letter from William Paley to Paul White, April 19,
1938, Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

2Letter from ERM to Paul White, March 28, 1938,
Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.

3Cable from Paul White to ERM, April 19, 1938,
Cable File A, Murrow Papers.

4Letter from ERM to William L. Shirer, July 29,
1938, Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

5Cable from William L. Shirer to ERM, August 23,
1938, Cable File A, Murrow Papers.

6Cable from ERM to William L. Shirer, August 20,
1938, Cable File A, Murrow Papers.

7Cable from ERM to William L. Shirer, August 21,
1938, Cable File A, Murrow Papers.

8Cable from ERM to William L. Shirer, August 22,
1938, Cable File A, Murrow Papers.

9Cable from William L. Shirer to ERM,
September 12, 1938, Cable File A, Murrow Papers.

10Ibid.

11Letter from ERM to H. V. Kaltenborn,
September 11, 1938, Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

12Letter from ERM to Paul White, October 3, 1938,
CorreSpondence File F, Murrow Papers.

122

13

Letter from ERM to Paul White, October 10,

123

1938,

Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

14

Ibid.

15

Letter from ERM to William L. Shirer, October S,

1938, Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

l6CBS

September 16,

17CBS

September 18,

18CBS

September 19,

19CBS

September 20,

20CBS

September 21,

21CBS

September 28,
22

broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
1938, Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
1938, Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
1938, Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
1938, Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
1938, Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
1938, Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

Ibid.

23CBS

September 30,

24

Letter from William Paley to ERM,

broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup,"
1938, Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

October 7,

1938, Correspondence File G, Murrow Papers.

25

Letter from ERM to Eric Sevareid,

October 22,

1938, CorreSpondence File G, Murrow Papers.

26

Cable from ERM to Paul White and William Paley,
November 2, 1938, Cable File B, Murrow Papers.

27

Ibid.

28

"America's New Journalism Habits," Fortune,
January 1939, pp.

31-34.

124

29Speech given by Paul White to CBS Stockholders,
February 12, 1939, CBS Corporation File A, Murrow Papers.

30Letter from ERM to William Paley, January 10,
1939, Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

31William Stott, Documentary Expressionism and
Thirties America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1973),
p. 90.

 

 

32BBC broadcast, "The Foreign Press," November 22,
1939, Interview File A, Murrow Papers.

33ERM Daily Journal, September 10, 1938, Personal
Papers File A, Murrow Papers.

34Memorandum from ERM to CBS Staff: London,
September 1, 1939, Program File C, Murrow Papers.

35ERM Daily Journal, September 4, 1939, Personal
Papers File A, Murrow Papers.

36Letter from ERM to Paul White, October 12, 1939,
Correspondence File G, Murrow Papers.

37Letter from Paul White to ERM, October 19, 1939,
Correspondence File G, Murrow Papers.

38Letter from Paul White to ERM, October 21, 1939,
CorreSpondence File G, Murrow Papers.

39Letter from Paul White to William Paley,
November 5, 1939, Correspondence File G, Murrow Papers.

40Letter from ERM to Paul White, November 16, 1939,
Correspondence File G, Murrow Papers.

41Ibid.

42ERM Daily Journal, December 10, 1939, Personal
Papers File A, Murrow Papers.

43Letter from ERM to Paul White, December 22, 1939,
CorreSpondence File G, Murrow Papers.

125

44ERM Daily Journal, September 11, 1940, Personal

Papers File A, Murrow Papers.

45CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," October 15,

1939, Transcript File C, Murrow Papers.

46CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
December 30, 1939, Transcript File C, Murrow Papers.

47Letter from ERM to Paul White, January 3, 1940,

Correspondence File H, Murrow Papers.

481bid.

49Letter from ERM to William Paley, January 11,

1940, Correspondence File H, Murrow Papers.

50Letter from ERM to Paul White, January 16, 1940,

Correspondence File H, Murrow Papers.

51CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
January 13, 1940, Transcript File D, Murrow Papers.

52CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," March 11,

1940, Transcript File D, Murrow Papers.

53ERM Daily Journal, March 14, 1940, Personal
Papers File A, Murrow Papers.

54Letter from William Paley to ERM, March 3, 1940,
Correspondence File H, Murrow Papers.

55CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," July 21,

1940, Transcript File D, Murrow Papers. Several of the
transcript files contain drafts of broadcasts written by
Murrow. He frequently wrote at least four full drafts.

56CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," June 11,
1940, Transcript File E, Murrow Papers.

57Letter from William L. Shirer to ERM, April 17,
1940, Correspondence File H, Murrow Papers. Shirer was
fond of writing key passages in his letters in code. He
told Murrow merely to reverse the meaning of each sentence.

126

58
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

59
Correspondence File H, Murrow Papers.

60
1940, Transcript File E, Murrow Papers.

61
1940, Transcript File E, Murrow Papers.

62
1940, Transcript File F, Murrow Papers.

63

File A, Murrow Papers.

64CBS broadcast, "European News
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

65CBS broadcast, "European News
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

66CBS broadcast, "European News
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

67CBS broadcast, "European News
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," May 11,

Letter from ERM to Paul White, April 30, 1940,

CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," May 1,

CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," May 3,

CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," May 7,

ERM Daily Journal, May 11, 1940, Personal Papers

Roundup," May 12,

Roundup," May 21,

Roundup," May 22,

Roundup," June 10,
Murrow wrote to

White Shortly after this broadcast, "that, if I had the
time, I would like to Spend more time with British families,
for they present wonderful studies of social life during
the crisis." Letter from ERM to Paul White, June 15, 1940,

Correspondence File 1, Murrow Papers.

68CBS broadcast, "European News
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

69CBS broadcast, "European News
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

7OCBS broadcast, "European News

Roundup," May 23,

Roundup," May 23,

Roundup,"

September 3, 1940, Transcript File I, Murrow Papers.

127

71Letter from Paul White to ERM, September 7, 1940,
Correspondence File I, Murrow Papers.

72Letter from ERM to Ida Lou Anderson, September 18,

1940, Correspondence File J, Murrow Papers.

73Ibid.

74Robert Lewis Shayon, "The Two Men Who Were
Murrow," Columbia Journalism Review, Fall 1969, p. 51.

 

75Eric Sevareid, Not So Wild a Dream (New York:
Alfred E. Knopf, 1947), p. 177.

 

6George A. Hough 3rd, "How New," Journal of
Popular Culture, Volume IX, Summer 1975, pp. 114-123.

 

 

77Letter from ERM to Paul White, October 21, 1940,
Correspondence File I, Murrow Papers.

78Ibid.

79CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
November 5, 1940, Transcript File I, Murrow Papers.

80CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
December 11, 1940, Transcript File 1, Murrow Papers.

81Ibid.

82Ibid.

83Letter from ERM to Paul White, December 16, 1940,
Correspondence File J, Murrow Papers.

84ERM Daily Journal, January 7, 1941, Personal

Papers File B, Murrow Papers.

85CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
November 11, 1940, Transcript File I, Murrow Papers.

86CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
November 4, 1940, Transcript File I, Murrow Papers.

128

87CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," October 14,
1940, Transcript File I, Murrow Papers.

88Letter from ERM to Paul White, October 17, 1940,
Correspondence File I, Murrow Papers.

89CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," October 12,
1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

90CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup,"
October 1. 1940, Transcript File H, Murrow Papers.

91Letter from ERM to Ethel Lamb Murrow,

November 28, 1940, CorreSpondence File J, Murrow Papers.

92CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
January 11, 1941, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers. Lord
Reith also wrote directly to Paley complaining about
Murrow's "too detailed" reporting, Letter from William
Paley to ERM, January 23, 1941, Correspondence File J,
Murrow Papers.

93CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
January 18, 1942, Transcript File K, Murrow Papers.

94Letter from ERM to Paul White, January 21, 1942,
Correspondence File J, Murrow Papers.

95CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup,"
February 11, 1942, Transcript File I, Murrow Papers.

96Letter from William Lawrence to ERM,

December 16, 1942, Correspondence File K, Murrow Papers.
Lawrence, then working for the Chicago Tribune, added
that "this war produces too many similar reports; for me,
I just remain skeptical until I actually see what peOple
are talking about so much."

 

97Letter from ERM to Paul White, January 2, 1943,
Correspondence File K, Murrow Papers.

98CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
December 29, 1942, Transcript File I, Murrow Papers.

129

99Letter from ERM to William L. Shirer, May 12,

1943, Correspondence File K, Murrow Papers.

100

1943, Correspondence File K, Murrow Papers.

101The quote was extracted from an article by

Letter from John Daly to Paul White, June 16,

Associated Press correspondent, Tony Smith, and distributed
to all AP subscribers in the spring of 1943. "How the War

is being Covered in North Africa," AP dispatch, May 2,
1943, Coverage File A, Murrow Papers.

102CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," June

1943, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers.

l03Ibid.

104Letter from ERM to Paul White, July 2, 1943,
Correspondence File K, Murrow Papers.

105CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," June

1943, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers.

106ERM Daily Journal, July 22, 1943, Personal
Papers File B, Murrow Papers.

107CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," June
1943, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers.

108CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," June

1943, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers.

109CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup," June
1943, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers.

110

New York, July 5, 1943, Program File C, Murrow Papers.
White added that "Murrow is doing an excellent job, but
he is paying the price of being where he is."

Memorandum from Paul White to CBS News Staff:

111CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," July
1943, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers.

7,

26,

130

112CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"

December 19, 1943, Transcript File J, Murrow Papers.

113Cable from Paul White to ERM, December 20, 1943,
Cable File A, Murrow Papers.

114Letter from Paul White to ERM, December 22'

1943, Correspondence File K, Murrow Papers.

115CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"

January 11, 1944, Transcript File K, Murrow Papers.

ll61bid.

117Letter from Edward Samuels to Paul White,

February 2, 1944, Correspondence File L, Murrow Papers.

118CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," April 16,

1944, Transcript File K, Murrow Papers.

119Letter from ERM to William L. Shirer, April 20,
1944, Correspondence File L, Murrow Papers.

120CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," June 8,

1944, Transcript File L, Murrow Papers.

121Letter from ERM to Paul White, July 20, 1944,
Correspondence File L, Murrow Papers.

122c133 broadcast, "European News Roundup!" July 14'

1944, Transcript File K, Murrow Papers.

123Ibid.

124CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," July 16,

1944, Transcript File L, Murrow Papers.

125ERM Daily Journal, August 3, 1944, Personal
Papers File B, Murrow Papers.

126Letter from ERM to Paul White, n.d.,

Correspondence File L, Murrow Papers.

131

127CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup,"
November 24, 1944, Transcript File L, Murrow Papers.

128CBS broadcast, "European News Roundup," April 17:

1945, Transcript File L, Murrow Papers.

lngRM Daily Journal, May 29, 1945, Personal

Papers File A, Murrow Papers.

130Ibid.

131Letter from ERM to William PaleYr June 11' 1945'

Correspondence File L, Murrow Papers.

132

"America Listens to Murrow," Variety, August 21,
1945, p. 7.

CHAPTER IV

A NEW FORUM: CHALLENGE AND RESPONSE

Tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will some-
times run through a country . . . . Yet panics in
some cases have their uses; they produce as much good
as hurt. Their duration is always short; the mind
soon grows through them and acquires a firmer habit
than before. But their peculiar advantage is that
they are the touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy,
and they bring men and things to light which might
have otherwise lain forever undiscovered. They

Sift out the hidden thoughts of men and hold them up
to the public eye.

Thomas Paine, The Crisis,
Number I

 

The documentary idea, after all, demands no more than
that the affairs of our time Shall be brought to the
screen in any fashion which strikes the imagination
and makes observation a little richer than it was.

At one level the vision may be journalistic; at
another it may rise to poetry and drama.

John Grierson, 1939

"I am amazed at how this business has grown,"
Murrow observed in a speech about broadcasting in 1945.
"In a very Short time, what we all do in broadcast journal-

"1 When

ism has come to be valued by millions of people.
Murrow returned to the United States after the war, he was
hailed by both his network and the public. CBS News won

nearly every major award for its coverage of the war

132

133

including the Peabody Award for "Excellence in Reporting."
Murrow was cited by the Peabody Committee as "one who has
done more for a new craft than any other practitioner."2
He expected to return to broadcasting as soon as possible,
"perhaps as a commentator," he told White. But William
Paley had other plans for Murrow. "I have decided to
elevate you to the executive level," Paley wrote to Murrow
in a lengthy memorandum, "because I think you will fit

3

right in as a decision-maker in broadcasting." "I guess

I better accept," Murrow responded. "But I don't guarantee
I'll like being a boss."4
For the next eighteen months, Murrow Spent one of
the most unhappy periods in his life with CBS. He was
now working along with Sponsors who wanted to underwrite
further network news productions as well as "taking on the
burden of hiring and firing." The Campbell Soup Company
put up over one million dollars for a weekly news and com-
mentary program. Murrow was responsible for seeing to the
organization of the Show and arranging further corporate
sponsorship. “God, how I hated this stuff," he wrote soon
after. "The worst place for a former reporter is the
board room."5
As a CBS vice-president, Murrow saw how the net-
work was devoting more and more time to commercially Spon-
sored entertainment programming. Paley's plans included a

much greater emphasis upon "Shows that will sell."6

134

Although news personnel consistently asked for expanded
news and commentary programs, Paley was anxious to "make

CBS the number one network in the nation."7

Murrow pleaded
for his former colleagues in the news division. "We can't

give up the prestige we earned before and during the war,"

he wrote Paley, "because now, more than ever, the public

8 After Murrow

is hungering for solid news programs."
managed to arrange commercial sponsorship of a daily radio
news Show, Paley relented. The "CBS Radio News Roundup,"
a program concept that gained so much prominence in the
war, was, by the Spring of 1946, a regular part of the
evening radio schedule. Murrow was not, however, doing any
reporting.
Throughout 1946, Murrow pushed for, and was granted,
permission to begin a variety of radio news and commentary
programs. He formed a documentary unit and assigned it
to Special news projects. He was the motivating force
behind "CBS News Views the Press," the first news Show ever
to treat the press' role in America. "Murrow wanted to
demonstrate," Alexander Kendrick wrote,
that the press itself was not above criticism, and
that the Fourth Estate was often less the public
service it pretended to be, and more the repository
of the private views and integests of individual
publishers and their friends.

In an early memorandum to the producer of "CBS News Views

the Press," Murrow suggested an examination of how the

New York press, through its gossip columns, "was often a

135

morass of personal prejudices, press agentry, jingoism, and
often complete invention." The reaction of the press was

violent. The New York Daily News condemned CBS and Murrow

 

as "vicious and incompetent to judge how the real press

works," while the New York Sun saw in the CBS press reviews
"10

 

the sinister hand of "the Communist Party line. The
network hierarchy at CBS was not pleased with Murrow's
programming ideas, especially the publicity received by
"CBS News Views the Press." Paley grew alarmed when the
Hearst newspaper chain began to criticize "any radio pro-
grams, in the guise of news shows, that seek to criticize
basic American institutions." Soon, right-wing organi—
zations instituted a massive letter-writing campaign to
the FCC complaining about the CBS program and its host,
Murrow's friend, Don Hollenbeck.11
In 1947, Murrow was approached by the Campbell
Soup Company and asked if he had any interest in personally
returning to the air. The company was prepared, they told
Murrow, to spend three million dollars a year on a new
evening news Show. "I know you really want to," Paley
told Murrow, "so why don't you accept their offer."12
He happily left his executive position and began his duties
as "CBS News Anchorman" in New York. He went on-the-air
on September 29, 1947. Since he had been away from the

micrOphone for so long, he felt compelled to make a general

"statement of principles" during the first broadcast.

136

After quoting from the complicated language in his con-

tract which outlined his duties, and noting that "this is

the type of thing lawyers like to write," Murrow added a

personal "interpretation."
This program is not a place where personal Opinion
should get mixed up with ascertainable facts. We
shall do our best to identify sources and to resist
the temptation to use this microphone as a privi-
leged platform from which to advocate action. It
is not, I think, humanly possible for any reporter
to be completely objective, for we are all . . .
prisoners Of our experience. And we shall try to
remember that the mechanics of radio which make it
possible for any individual voice to be heard . . .
don't confer great wisdom or infallibility on that
individual.

Murrow was ecstatic over his new job. But, within one

year, he began to grow restless again.

Radio journalism had changed a great deal since
Murrow's early years at CBS. It had become as SOphisticated
as the network it served. The CBS news staff included over
one hundred individuals working around the country and
abroad. There were now correspondents stationed in EurOpe
and Asia as well as in major American cities. The news
headquarters in New York was now staffed by myriad writers
and producers and technical directors. "I used to know
everyone here," Murrow noted about CBS news, "and now I
feel sort of lost; the old days are dead and gone."14

Despite the fact that Murrow was the major news
personality at CBS, he was now removed from almost all of

the reporting duties he once enjoyed as a correspondent in

EurOpe. He hosted the "CBS Nightly News" Show, but did not

137

write the "hard news" he delivered on—the-air. His OOpy,
although edited by Murrow, was written by Jesse Zousmer,
a veteran news writer for CBS. Murrow would introduce the
day's major Stories, provide lead-ins for the news-roundups,
and, at the end of each program, "do a think-piece" on any
topic related to contemporary affairs. At the same time,
Murrow was beginning to feel "sort of useless" as a reporter.
He no longer was a participant in the news he was "reading"
over the air. One fan letter he received in 1948 observed
that "you sound like a defrocked Bishop, Mr. Murrow; too
bad you aren't back out in the world again."15
Murrow's evening news programs soon won several
major awards, and the broadcaster was cited for his
"perceptive commentaries on world and domestic affairs."
By early 1949, however, he told Paley that "I am not enjoy-

ing this desk-bound news status of mine."16

In the Spring,
Murrow met Fred W. Friendly, a radio documentary producer
from Rhode Island. Friendly suggested he and Murrow work
on an album of "aural history," a compilation of famous
CBS newscasts along with a narration by Murrow. After
three months work, the Murrow-Friendly albums, called "I
Can Hear It Now," were finished. Both men were excited by
the public's acceptance of the albums. For Murrow, the
production and editing tasks provided a chance to "relive

"17

some strenuous times I had once been a part of. He

138

told Friendly that he wanted to "get much more involved"
as a reporter,

They tell me that television will soon become a very

powerful medium in this country. It's still an

infant, but just think Of the possibilities for news

and public affairs shows. I think I will talk to

Mr. Paley and see what he says.

Murrow did talk to Paley about a new kind of news

Show for television. "It will take us a long time to
figure out what we are doing," Murrow told Friendly, but
Paley seems to agree that you and I can make the transition

"18 Although he was still very busy as a

to television.
commentator and anchorman in New York, Murrow began to
devote every free moment to learning about television.
He was uncertain about the nature of news that was both
aural and visual. "Most news is made up of what happens

in men's minds. How do you put that in pictures?"19

Television was still regarded by broadcasters as

"20 In late 1949, there were

"radio's little brother.
nearly two million American homes with TV sets, and the

industry trade journal, Broadcasting, reported that over

 

one hundred thousand new sets were being installed each

month.21

AS early as 1945, NBC began experimenting with a
regularly scheduled evening "newscast." The network
believed that television news should be very similar in

scope to the popular nresreel concept pioneered by the

Hearst-owned "Movietone News" during the 19303 and 403.

139

When the networks began to expand full-force into tele-
vision production in 1947, NBC found a Sponsor for its
evening news program--a fifteen minute "wrap-up" narrated
by John Cameron Swayze accompanied by one-to-two minute
newsreel inserts. CBS followed suit with its own news
program, "Television News With Doublas Edwards." Since
both networks anticipated huge financial losses from their
respective television Operations, little money was spent
on developing any original approaches to televised news.22
By the time Murrow and Friendly began working on
"program concepts" for CBS in late 1950, the network had
a full panoply Of entertainment programs. Paley was wary
of investing too much time and expense in broadening the
range of his news Operation on television. But CBS had a
very profitable season in 1950, and Paley was gradually
giving in to the pressure brought by Murrow to increase
"our scant offerings in news/public affairs."23
There were, however, reasons for Paley's misgivings
concerning any expansion of television news. The outbreak
of the Korean War in June of 1950, along with the growing
Cold War fear of "communist subversion in the entertainment
and broadcasting industries," was causing great anxiety
among network executives. An anti-communist pressure group

called "American Business Consultants" published a "hand-

book" in June of 1950. Red Channels, a 213-page book,

 

stated that "it is high time Americans . . . become aware

140

of Cominform and Communist Party, USA attempts to transmit
pro—Sovietism to the American public." The book was
Offered "as a portrait" of the infiltration being carried

on for this purpose. Red Channels listed one hundred and

 

fifty one names of entertainers, writers, newsmen, and
directors, all of whom, the book charged, "were, or are,

24 The book was

agents of the communist conspiracy."
eagerly read by Paley and his staff and, after a massive
letter-writing campaign was mounted by a Syracuse, New York
grocer, Laurence Johnson, Paley and his newly chosen top
assistant, Frank Stanton, instituted a "loyalty oath" at
CBS. "We have to be careful what we do," Stanton wrote to‘
Paley, "especially in the news area; these people mean
business, and we can't offend their sense of patriotism.

25

Not now, anyway."

The names listed by Red Channels became the basis

 

for a blacklisting effort that permeated the entire broad-
cast industry. At CBS, several entertainers who were cited

by Red Channels as well as its parent publication, Counter-

 

attack, were released from their contracts. The network
made an arrangement with Thomas Kirkpatrick and Vincent

Hartnitt, both Of whom were affiliated with Counterattack

 

magazine, to "check out" the names Of all production per-
sonnel involved in network programs.26 Sponsors and
advertising agencies also worked along with Kirkpatrick and

Hartnitt. Ed Sullivan, whose "Toast Of the Town" variety

141

Show on CBS was extremely pOpular, relied exclusively on
the two men for "advice and counsel." Sullivan told his
newspaper column readers on June 21, 1950:

Kirkpatrick has sat in my living room on several
occasions and listened attentively to performers
eager to secure a certification Of loyalty. On
some occasions, after interviewing them, he has
given them the green light; on other occasions, he
has told them: 'Veterans' organizations will insist
on further proof.‘

Counterattack and Red Channels, though they did not

 

 

Specifically mention Murrow's name, warned against the
"liberal-left-wing news personnel at the major networks."
But both Murrow and Friendly believed the paranoia at the
executive level at CBS would pass in time. They were too
bush trying to figure out what they would do with tele-
vision news. "These witch-hunters are mighty dangerous
folks," Murrow told Friendly. "I think it best we just go
about our business; we'll meet these guys again someday--
but let's get our weapons straight first."28
For the next ten months, Murrow and Friendly spent
every available minute talking about their ideas. Both
were convinced that current TV news programs were meek
and dull. In June of 1951, Friendly sent a long memo-
randum to CBS vice-president, Hubell Robinson, chief of
network programming. Friendly attempted to outline what

he and Murrow believed to be "the real future of television

news":

142

Ed and I have been talking many long hours about TV.
The more we talk, the more convinced I am that tele-
vision news can never be just a translation of radio
news into a medium of pictures.

I think we must concern ourselves with an entirely
new concept . . . this is a big phrase I will use
over and over again. I think we are in the position
neWSpapers were in before they were newspapers. We
cannot merely copy or translate. With a medium to
challenge the imagination, it is time we started to
stagger it. We must not be content to cover the
news; we must make the news. The discussion program,
the forum, the interview, as we knew them on radio,
are dead. The 'new kind' of public affairs program
is part Of this new concept. All we know so far is
that the industry has not yet begun to move in this
direction. I think Ed and I know where to start.
This is the first 'theory letter' I have written since
coming to CBS. I hOpe it is the last.29

The "new concept" Friendly alluded to was not really
new at all. Friendly convinced Murrow that the "best of
the war-time reportage" stemmed from the "personal approach

30 Murrow felt his success as

you and a few others took."
a journalist was due tO the way in which the content was
handled by the reporter: the more an issue was examined in
minute detail, the more an audience understood. "What we
have to do, then," Murrow told Friendly, "is make our new
TV news Similar in style to the documentary approach CBS

pioneered during the war."31

Both agreed on one central
concept for television news: it had to become an instrument
capable Of "transporting people to a scene." There were
no precedents on television for what Murrow and Friendly

wanted to do. Variety became aware of the Murrow-Friendly

"soul—searching about TV public affairs" in the spring of

143

1951. "We understand that Edward R. Murrow and his associ-
ate, Fred R. Friendly, are planning something new,"
and we can only hOpe that their ideas will be looked
upon with favor by the CBS brass. As of yet, American
TV has not developed its full potential as a medium
of information as well as entertainment. We cannot
allow this marvelous force to be used to sell com-
mercial messages and bad drama. We want, and, we
suspect this of Murrow and Friendly, to see TV used
for the public good . . . as a window on the world
of sorts.

Although William Paley and Frank Stanton still had
serious misgivings about Murrow and Friendly's "plans for
news," they gave in to the two men and allowed them to go
ahead with their "program concept." "We still have to
watch what they do," Stanton wrote to Paley, "because I
believe overly controversial material will inflame our

33 Murrow was given a

critics. We'll just wait and see."
basic thirteen week contract for his program to be called
"See It Now." Air time was cleared for November of 1951.
"They have stuck us in the Sunday afternoon basement Slot,"
he wrote to his brother. "I think they feel nobody will
notice us and we will, therefore, just fade away."34
"See It Now" appeared for the first time on
November 18, 1951. The program was the result of nearly
two years work by Murrow and Friendly and a small crew
assigned to the project. It was not intended to be a weekly
news program. Its purpose was not only to report what

happened, but to tell what it meant "and explain how and

why." Murrow was convinced that a "deliberative" kind of

144

public affairs program could show an audience much more
than a "hop-scotch" race through events. "We are going
to narrow our reporting down to the smallest possible

35 Murrow had

unit," he told Stanton, "the individual."
written up detailed plans for the program, outlining his
and the other correspondents' duties. Each half-hour slot
alloted to "See It Now" would be broken up into no more
than two major segments: Murrow would be responsible for
editing and the narration.

Murrow told the "See It Now" correspondents and
cameramen, that "simplicity of presentation" was the abso-
lute requirement for any program report. "We are going to
Show people some of their world; we want to draw them into
it, make them feel that what we see and write about has
importance for them," he wrote to each member of the "See

36 He tried to appear confident before the

It Now" unit.
first Show, but he brooded for months, fearing, as Friendly
recalled, "he wouldn't be able to live up to his
expectations . . . and they were very, very high at that
point."37
"See It Now" began that Sunday with what first

appeared to be some kind of technological trick: the
studio camera focused on two TV monitors, one showing a
view of the Atlantic Ocean, the other the Golden Gate

Bridge in San Francisco. Murrow appeared on the screen,

cigarette in hand, and Opened his narration: "Good evening.

145

This is an Old team trying to learn a new trade." He
explained the purpose of the program and, in an unusual
mention of the Sponsor's relationship to "See It Now,"
he noted:
This program's sponsor, the Aluminum Corporation of
America, and we intend that their commercials not
distract you from the content or meaning of this
program. We are not going to conclude that because
we have these powerful instruments at our disposal,
this makes us unnecessarily wise or omnipotent in
any fashion. You will, of course, be the judge of
the extent to which the sponsor and ourselves succeed
in this venture.38
Murrow followed with a pledge to be “responsible at all
times, and to aid the listener in understanding world
develOpmentS." He turned to the two studio monitors and
explained how, since it was now possible for TV to "Span
the continent," TV news had to probe the world and not
merely rehash what has already happened. He introduced a
report about American casualties in Korea using a small
Army platoon as a typical example. The camera zoomed in
on soldiers' faces, hands, and the machinery Of war; it
established Shots of several individual soldiers and
allowed them to Speak directly about the conflict; the last
shot was a slow fade-out Of a mud-hole on "Hill 525."
The program ended with a live hook-up with Eric Sevareid
in Washington and Howard K. Smith in Paris, both of whom
discussed war atrocities.39

The first "See It Now" program set the pattern for

a unique kind of public affairs program. Its subject

146

selection was limited to a few major topics. Both camera
technique and narrative were as simply constructed as
possible. It strongly suggested that a new form of program-
Sponsor relationship was necessary and "wise." Finally, it
assumed that larger events often are most graphically under-
stood through the reactions Of individuals. "We fully
intend to move beyond the constraints Of daily journalism,"
Murrow told Stanton, "because there is nothing less satis-
fying than the world presented as a series of newsreel
clips, hastily assembled. We are going to always take
our time."40
During the 1951-52 season, "See It Now" pioneered
the use of the television documentary. To a large extent,
Murrow found he was working in much the same manner as he
was during his early days as a CBS correspondent. Although
he was working along with Friendly and other network news
personnel, he had direct control over program format and
design as well as major editorial responsibilities. In
lengthy, detailed memorandums, he outlined future tOpics,
suggested possible approaches to filming techniques
("always directly on faces to catch expressions," he told
Martin Barnett, "See It Now's" chief cameraman), and Spent
time pleading for more funds with the network. He con-
tinued to divide his time between delivering radio commen—
taries each night and working with Friendly on future pro-

ductions.41

147

"See It Now" was well-received by critics and the
audience. DeSpite its Sunday afternoon scheduling, the
program consistently drew high ratings. The Nielsen index
for 1951-52 showed "See It Now" as "the number one public
affairs Show in the country, viewed in over two million

"42 The rest Of the season was devoted

television homes.
to reports on British politics, profiles of Winston Churchill
and Anthony Eden, training procedures in two U.S. Army
divisions, and the United States Senate via a study of
Everett Dirksen and Robert Taft. At the end of the year
Murrow complained to Friendly about the "lack of contro-
versial material we have featured." He was concerned that
the program move beyond an examination of mundane events

"and begin to explore" problems not treated by television

"or any other medium." There were moments in that first
season's productions which pleased Murrow. For example,

the way in which the camera caught Senator Dirksen gloating
over a recent speech he made, or the pained expressions on
the faces of Army recruits being drilled by a tough drill
sergeant.

The network was continually upset by Murrow and
Friendly's requests for "more money, more time for their
series." Stanton, however, was relieved that "'See It Now'
has not gotten us into any trouble with sponsors or outside

"43

groups. Stanton was always worried about the news

division at CBS. He felt that criticism of "newscasters"

148

by conservative pressure groups would lead to eventual
problems with Sponsors and advertising agencies. When "See
It Now" finished its first season well ahead in the ratings
and did not become the source of "any scandal," Stanton, by
now a senior vice-president, gave his approval for a new
contract.44
For the 1952-53 season, Murrow removed himself from
any active involvement with "See It Now." Paley asked him
to return to the CBS administration "for one year at most."
The network was undergoing some major organizational changes.
Paley wanted Murrow to work with "all phases of our news
Operation and, if possible, encourage further commercial
Sponsorship of public affairs programs."45
Murrow was unhappy about his one year's return to

"being a big man with a small desk." He did not care for
the job Paley had given him. "The one thing I will be
able to do, though," he told Friendly,

is to begin to rethink what we will do in the

future . . . with "See It Now.” I have been so

busy with radio commentaries, that I haven't given

enough thought to the program. We need to Spend

more time in one area . . . to get back to a

ghorough studysof events. Less variety, more

etail, Fred.
Murrow found time to talk with the "See It Now" crew about
"what has gone wrong." By the end of 1952, both Murrow

and Friendly decided to feature only one tOpic per program.

"Our next season will be our best," Murrow told Stanton,

149

for we will be getting away from a superficial view
. . . toward a greater examination of detail. I
plan to be much more involved than I was a year ago.
I plan to invest more of myself in television . . .
and will seek out public issues that trouble us.47

Frank Stanton was not pleased with Murrow's note. "I am
a little concerned with the "See It Now" plans for next

year," he wrote Paley, "because I fear any sort of trouble

48

for the network." Murrow was bothered by Stanton's

"corporate language" warning him about "the need to keep
clean." "I told him I didn't plan on using the series as
a pulpit," he observed to his secretary. "But that didn't

seem to help . . . maybe what we will be doing will prove

bigger than any one person."49

Murrow was quite sensitive to criticism implying
that he had done little to expose blacklisting. Some of
Murrow's admirers even suspected he had been "swept along"
by McCarthyism. Friendly was aware of the criticism of
Murrow:

When one visitor accused Murrow of not denouncing
McCarthy, declaring it was fear Of upsetting his
comfortable nest that prevented him from speaking
out, Murrow politely replied, 'You may be right.’
When a McCarthy supporter criticized Murrow . . .
and proclaimed his faith in McCarthy's crusade
against Communism in government ('His methods may
be a little harsh but he's doing a job that needs
doing'), Ed took a long drag on a cigarette and
again said, 'You may be right.‘ It was his way

of conserving his convictions and energy for the
prOper foe. In the meantime we kept compiling the
McCarthy record without a shooting budget while
waiting for the right incident that would provide us
with a 'little picture'-—our shorthand for a real 50
Situation which would illustrate a national issue.

150

For the next two years, "See It Now," under the direction
Of Murrow, moved away from its "magazine type" treatment
of events. Murrow was convinced that his new forum "must
be used" to stir public consciousness. He now understood
what the medium could do. It was now, he wrote in his

journal, "a question of what we all must do."51

In October of 1953, Murrow gave Friendly a clipping
from a Detroit newspaper. "Here, read this," Murrow told
Friendly,

It may be our case history. I don't know we missed

it on the wires, but the Detroit News has been doing

a hell of a job with it. It's the story of an Air
Force lieutenant who is losing his commission because
his father and his Sister are supposed to be left- 52
wing sympathizers. Let's have someone check it out.

 

Murrow assigned Joe Wershba, a "See It Now" staff producer,
to gather the facts about the Detroit slipping. After
spending several days in Michigan, Wershba returned with
"an amazing story." Lieutenant Milo Radulovich, a twenty-
six-year-Old meteorology student at The University of
Michigan who was a reserve Officer in the Air Force, had
just been asked to resign his commission. An Air Force
hearing's board accused Radulovich of "disloyalty" because
his family was involved in subversive activities. Wershba
brought back a OOpy of the official hearing transcript as
well as several thousand feet of filmed interviews with
Radulovich and his family. An interview with the chief

Air Force personnel officer in charge Of the case revealed

151

that Radulovich's loyalty "was not, in any way, the

question." It was, on the other hand, as Murrow discovered,

Radulovich's father and sister who were suspected. The

Air Force maintained that they had allegedly "read sub-

versive newspapers" and engaged in "highly suspicious

activities." These activities were not, however, Specified.
Murrow reviewed the transcripts and the film footage

over and over again. He was moved by one particular segment

in the film: an interview with Radulovich's father, a

Serbian immigrant. The Older man read a copy of a letter

he had just sent to President Eisenhower. "They are doing

a bad thing to Milo . . . . He has given all his growing

years to his country . . . . I am an Old man. I have

Spent my life in a coal mine. I ask nothing for myself

. . . but justice for my boy."53

Further research by
Murrow and Friendly revealed that Radulovich and his family,
as well as friends and acquaintances, were willing to talk
to the CBS team for eventual use in a "See It Now" program.
The Air Force refused to talk at all.

Murrow sent another film crew back to Detroit to
record further interviews. He notified the Air Force and
the Pentagon of his plans. He wanted to present "a

"54

balanced picture Of the case. At the same time, Murrow

informed Stanton and Paley. "They are not very happy," he

"55

told Friendly. "Not happy at all. The Pentagon finally

sent two Officers to Speak with Murrow in New York. One,

152

an Air Force general, told Murrow "he doubted if this pro—
gram will ever be aired." He stated that "Murrow has
always been a friend of ours, and that should continue."
Murrow just stared at the officer and, as Friendly recalled,
"just kept smoking one cigarette after another."56
When the program was ready, after a ten day period
on nonstop editing and writing by Murrow, the CBS pro-
motional staff informed him that "there can be no revenue
allocated for promotional messages for your upcoming film

57 Murrow and Friendly contributed fifteen

on Radulovich."
hundred dollars out of their own personal money for a half-

page advertisement in the New York Times. The advertise-

 

ment did not carry the CBS logo. It Simply noted the name
Of the "See It Now" program: “The Cast Against Milo
Radulovich, A0589839." It was signed, "Ed Murrow and

Fred Friendly.

Murrow was aware of his precarious position with
the CBS management: by airing the Radulovich program he
was consciously going against the wishes of Paley and
Stanton. Thirty minutes before air time, Murrow told
Friendly: "I don't know whether we will get away with this
or not . . . things will never be the same around here
after tonight."58

"The Case Against Milo Radulovich, A0589839" was

a milestone in televised public affairs programming.

Through a Simple process of editing, Murrow had fashioned a

153

documentary film focusing on the Radulovich case. The
problem inherent in the controversy was explained by Murrow
at the very beginning Of the program. With a close-up
shot of Radulovich sitting in his living room in Ann Arbor,
Murrow noted:
A few weeks ago there occurred a few obscure notices
. . . and a Lieutenant Milo Radulovich . . . and also
something about Air Force Regulation 35-62. That is
a regulation which states that a man may be regarded
as a security risk if he has close or continuing ties
with Communists or people believed to have Communist
sympathies. Lieutenant Radulovich was asked to
resign. He declined.
At the end, a board was called to examine his sym-
pathies. At the end, it was recommended that he be
severed from the Air Force, although there was no
question whatsoever as to the lieutenant's loyalty.
We propose to examine, in so far as we can, the case
of Lieutenant Radulovich.
The camera focused in on Radulovich's street in his home-
town Of Dexter, Michigan. Murrow, trying to place the
lieutenant as an individual caught up in circumstances
beyond his control, described the street as "typically
American." Radulovich was described as being "no Special
hero, no martyr."

The remaining twenty-five minutes of the film
detailed the develOpment of the case. Radulovich explained
his position, a voice-over by Murrow described the Air
Force's refusal to comment or to present, during the
Radulovich hearing, any evidence denigrating his "personal

disloyalty." Radulovich's civilian attorney stated that

"guilt by relationship was . . . inhumane and cruel." A

154

series Of interviews with the lieutenant's neighbors in
Dexter pointed out the way in which the "case was received"
in a town that "for over one hundred years has had no
Spectacular news stories, no causes célébres." Each person
expressed his or her feelings as the camera tightly focused
on facial expressions. One man, who Observed that "he
wouldn't know Radulovich if he walked down the street,"
alluded to the larger issue involved in the case. It was
a problem Murrow realized existed from the very beginning
when he was editing the film.

Murrow: (intro to interview) . . . Steve Sorter is a

post commander of the American Legion and drives a

beer truck.

Steve Sorter: What I want to say is this: that I do

believe that if the Air Corps or United States Army

or who they are that are purging this man--and I

believe they're purging him--gets away with it,

they are entitled to do it to anybody. You or me

or anybody. If it comes to the point where you and

I are held responsible for the activities . . . of
our families, then we better all head for cover.

 

Radulovich's father and sister were then interviewed. They
maintained their right to read "what they wanted"--in
fact, both were reading Serbian nationalist literature and
had ties to anti—Tito groups in Detroit--and voiced their
support for Milo. Radulovich was again introduced by
Murrow as the camera focused directly on the lieutenant's
face.
Radulovich: If I am going to be judged by my relatives,
are my children going to be asked to denounce me?

. . . Are they going to have to explain to their
friends why their father's a security risk? . . .

 

155

This is a chain reaction if the thing is let stand

. . . . I see a chain reaction that has no end.
AS the camera faded out, there was a fifteen second period
of silence. Murrow appeared on the screen. He spoke
Slowly, looking directly into the camera. He summarized
the Radulovich case again, and Offered a comment.

We believe that 'the son shall not be made to bear

the iniquity of the father,‘ even though the iniquity

be proved; and in this case, it was not.

Whatever happens in this whole area of the relation-

ship between the individual and the state, we will

do it ourselves--it cannot be blamed on Malenkov,

or Mao Tse-tung, or even our allies. And it seems

to us that--that is, to Fred Friendly and myself--

that it is a subject that should be argued about

endlessly.59

Friendly remembered the "high tension" in the con-
trol room the evening the program was aired. AS the last
segment ended, "See It Now" staff members crowded around
Murrow. "Some had tears in their eyes." The phone began
to ring and telegrams of support soon flooded the newsroom.
There was no message of congratulations from the CBS manage-
ment.60
The Radulovich program was soundly condemned by

conservative groups and newspaper columnists. Jack
O'Brian, a nationally syndicated writer for the Hearst
newspapers, stated, "Murrow and his left-wing companions
61

have begun a new trend in television: fellow-travelling."

Counterattack urged its readers "to begin a massive letter-

 

writing campaign to the CBS people. Tell them we won't

stand for pinko—liberalism polluting the airwaves."62

156

But Murrow was both excited by the program and buoyed by
the prospects for "a new wave of public affairs programming
begun by the Radulovich Show."63 He knew that the "execu-

tive suite" was upset by the program. "Their job is much

different than mine, however; and we are bound to clash."64

Murrow now knew that he was not merely examining
the judicial processes of the Air Force and the Pentagon,
but he was beginning to deal with the whole syndrome of
McCarthyism in America. The Radulovich program was the
first step. Both Murrow and Friendly were fully aware of
how "the disease" had infected government. It was now,
Murrow suspected, as apparent in broadcasting, too.

Several advertising agencies began to pressure CBS
about "the obvious trend toward advocacy-liberalism certain

5
6 Murrow's own

of your employees are taking on-the-air."
sponsor for his evening news commentaries, the Campbell
Soup Company, wrote Murrow directly. Ward Wheelock,
advertising manager for the company, told Murrow to "give
five minutes to a good, solid anti-communist on your

Show . . . a Pole, a Czech, or someone like that."

Wheelock emphasized that "this comes straight from the
Campbell peOple." Murrow was furious. He saw the letters
as "a direct attempt to influence the news." In a scathing

reply to Wheelock, Murrow ended by writing: "Here is some

correspondence on our Radulovich Show, from peOple who

157

liked it. Maybe you would like to ask the Campbell folks
to eat it all."66

The response Murrow received from all Sides about
"See It Now" provided the impetus he needed to "rethink,"
as he told Friendly, "what we have been doing and will do."
He realized he must continue to present an impartial
survey of events. However, the experience he had in
writing and editing the Radulovich program demonstrated
that the material ("the raw stuff," Murrow called it)
often had a built-in theme. He saw his role as "being the
man reSponsible for finding the basic message." Although
he knew that he and the "See It Now" staff could be accused
of "taking one side or another," such accusations, he felt,
were false:

I do not 'make up' the stuff we use. It is all there
for the taking. The job Of a good reporter, in or
out of broadcasting, is simply to isolate salient
points, let the peOple Speak what they believe to be
true, and organize the whole mess. The best way to
approach the job, then, is to get the facts first
and, when that is done, speak your mind. I feel it's
right to end a program with an observation concerning
what it all meant. In effect, Friendly and I are
saying: 'This is indeed what we think it means.‘

This is a service we should provide.

The Radulovich program also convinced Murrow that
the techniques employed in presenting visual news material
were crucially important. He began to work directly with
Palmer Williams, one of the chief cameramen for "See It

Now," on the best ways to film interviews. He wanted the

visual elements to "work right along" with the narrative,

158

never totally dominating the program. "We are telling a
story," a memorandum to Williams stated, "and we have to
let the story tell itself . . . get in close, let the sub-
jects speak their minds . . . that way the audience gets a

"68 He

clear idea that we are dealing with live people.
cautioned his staff about treating subjects in a context
that "is too broad.“ By isolating one facet of a larger
controversy, Murrow believed "a universal message will
emerge."69

The "See It Now" staff had little time to gloat
over what they had accomplished in the Radulovich program.
Murrow pushed his staff constantly. He was so involved
with his work that he rarely left the CBS studios before
midnight. He knew that he was probably one of the few
working broadcast journalists who could defy management.
While the network vice-presidents for advertising and
public relations pleaded for "a softer approach to the
news," Murrow was busily preparing more programs. "Few
peOple knew what we were doing," Murrow wrote to his
brother, "for we just couldn't afford to have any inter—
ference; we needed every working minute of every day."70
Program ratings released after the controversial Radulovich
Show demonstrated that Murrow was now being watched in over
four million television homes. Murrow called the ratings

"my margin of safety."71

159

The 1953-54 "See It Now" season was a period of
"sheer exhilaration for all of us," Friendly wrote.
"Murrow was everywhere--cajoling us when we got down,
writing, editing, sending out long notes about what we

should do."72

The Radulovich program was followed by
"Trieste," a detailed study Of training tactics in the
Army. It was part of a long-time interest Of Murrow's

to Show his audience "just how well-prepared our forces
are." Again, the bulk of the program was made up Of
interviews with soldiers undergoing, in Murrow's words,
"the less appealing aspects of training." The narration
was sparse and Murrow directed Palmer Williams to "capture
all of the grunts and groans, the looks of homesickness

"73 Coupled with a

. . . and avoid the officers' rhetoric.
second program, "Hunter-Killer Sub Force," both programs
examined the ways in which soldiers and sailors dealt with
highly complex jobs in a regimented fashion. Murrow left
most of the production work for these programs to Friendly.
He was working under great pressure to complete the final
editing of another program he hOped would complement the
Radulovich film. "It's going to be another case study,"
he told Stanton. "We think the subject is extremely
important."74
"Argument in Indianapolis" was Shown in late

November, 1953. The American Legion in Indianapolis

objected to the formation of a local chapter of the

160

American Civil Liberties Union, and it was using its influ-
ence to prevent the ACLU from hiring a hall to organize

its membership. The ACLU finally persuaded a Catholic
church to rent its hall to the group. The American Legion
was convinced the ACLU was a subversive organization "since
it has consistently defended agitators." For the ACLU, the
entire controversy centered around a basic constitutional
question: the right to meet and Speak freely.

Murrow introduced the topic that evening by a
simple summary of what had already happened. Both sides
were given equal time as the filmed interviews cut back and
forth between the contending parties, thereby giving the
effect of a running controversy. Murrow's voice was heard
between interviews. Palmer Williams' camera caught in one
close-up shot after another the tension and the bitterness
the interviewees felt. For example, the president of the
"Minute Women Of Indiana," a patriotic organization,
appeared horrified when she complained about the ACLU as
"a travesty of American principles . . . with an avowed
purpose to overthrow our government by force and violence,
as well as by infiltration." Her feelings were shared by
those Opposing the ACLU: the American Legion Commander, a
Legionnaire at a mass meeting of the group. The ACLU
presented its case via Arthur Garfield Hays, General
Counsel Of the ACLU who stated, "the preservation of civil

liberties was crucial." Hayes denied the allegations made

161

by the Legion. Several more interviews followed: each one
on a different side of the issue. The closing scene was
yet another interview with the Catholic priest who allowed
the ACLU to use his church. As in the Radulovich program,
Murrow saw in one man's comments "the kernel of the issue."
"When the climate is such," Father Goosens stated,

that so many people are so quick to take the law into

their own hands, I Should say perhaps, to ignore the

law and to deny others the right to peaceful assembly

and free speech--somebody has to take a stand . . .

and if the church and religion do not uphold these

principles which come from God, then who will?
"That was the argument in Indianapolis last week," Murrow
said at the very end, "and the controversy is everywhere."75

The substance and style of "Argument in Indianapolis"

were Similar to Murrow's "ideal conception" of a public
affairs program. The issue of free speech was located
within a particular controversy in a local community. The
intercutting Of interviews allowed the two contending sides
to be heard. And, at the end of the program, Murrow's
"comment," short though it was, pointed to the need for
further discussion by an informed public. He felt that
the success of any kind of "news related Show" depended
upon its ability to generate debate about public issues.
"I am in the position, along with several Others," he
Observed in a 1953 speech,

to make known to a wider public important events.

This is a heavy responsibility, and it is one that

I don't take lightly. I have always felt that if

the audience in this country is simply allowed to
make up their own minds about various issues--and

162

they are given the chance to do SO by my medium--
well, they are bright enough to do SO. This is a
concept that goes back to Jefferson: the right to
choose at the free marketplace of ideas.
In American broadcasting, however, "the marketplace of
ideas" Often conflicted with the less idealistic dictates
Of the corporate marketplace. Once again, a "See It Now"
program caused anxiety within the CBS management. Murrow
and Friendly never heard from Paley about "Argument in
Indianapolis."

At the end of November 1953, Murrow told his
production staff to begin gathering material for a program
on Senator McCarthy. Murrow was scheduled to spend several
weeks in Korea for a planned program on American soldiers
in the front lines, but he wanted to confront the McCarthy
issue "by the Spring." He had learned that McCarthy was
"angry as hell" about recent "See It Now" programs and
was about to "release something about me to the press."77
"Now we are ready to take this guy on," he told his staff.
"But we have to be very sure Of our stuff."

Murrow's return to the field as a correspondent
"was like a tonic for me," he wrote to his wife. He took
along a small film crew and planned on doing almost all
of the writing himself. The final result was "Christmas
in Korea," a program Murrow considered one of his best.

He followed American troops for ten days, gathered

impressions of the fighting and the destruction. When

163

he returned to New York he had less than Six days to edit
the entire film. He worked around the clock ("in a kind
of frenzy," Palmer Williams noted), and the program was
finally completed one day before air time on December 29,
1953. "I invested a lot of my heart in this program,"
Murrow told Friendly.78
"Christmas in Korea" has been generally neglected
by broadcast historians. It appeared during the "See It
Now" season that featured the series of programs about
McCarthyism and has been overshadowed by their publicity.
Murrow Often referred to "Christmas in Korea" as the ideal
television news program because "it demonstrated just how
important human beings are as actors in 'the big event.”79
As he had done so many times in London during the

Second World War, Murrow concentrated on the human face of
war. He Spent his time with several Army platoons: the
camera captured their faces and the way they attempted to
survive the cold and the loneliness. The narration Murrow
read as the camera panned over the desolate landscape at
the beginning of the film was tightly constructed:

This is Korea, where a war is going on. That's a

Marine, digging a hole in the ground. They dig an

awful lot of holes in the ground in Korea. This

is the front. Just there, no-man's land begins, and

on the ridges over there, the enemy positions can

be clearly seen. In the course of the next hour

we shall try to Show you around Korea a bit.

Murrow's voice introduced various interviews with the

soldiers. He chose to edit in close—ups of their faces

164

as well as their equipment. Men were shown digging fox-
holes, playing guitars, with bandaged faces and arms. A
priest was filmed reading a prayer as the camera dissolved
into a tight shot of one soldier crying Openly as a
Christmas carol was heard in the background. Korean
children were shown as being "the real casualties of this
conflict"; several of the children tried to smile. At the
end of the film, Murrow introduced some soldiers and iden-
tified their hometowns. Artillery was exploding in the
distance. Murrow appeared on camera and, as an Army
patrol was seen walking off beyond the fortified perimeter,
he stated: "There is no conclusion to this report from
Korea because there is no end to the war."80
The juxtaposition of the scenes provided the basic
theme for "Christmas in Korea." Murrow saw the war as an
endless struggle. One scene would Show a priest reading
"a prayer for universal peace" and was followed immediately
by a Shot of a wounded Marine on a stretcher. A note he
made during the editing of the program pointed to "the
real notion of what this is about . . . action and inaction,
hope and disillusion, life and death; all of this is here

81 He saw the war, as he saw

. . . in this footage.”
another struggle in London, as a series of Opposing images
thrown together. AS the chief producer and writer it was

Murrow's job, as he told Friendly, "to make sense out of

the confusion . . . and, perhaps most of all, to show that

165

there can be no easy answers, only a lot Of questions."82

In the blending of narrative and pictures, irony, under-
statement, and pathos were obvious in "Christmas in Korea."
It was almost as if Murrow was trying to demonstrate to
his audience how difficult it was to reconstruct history
in a neat package. "What Murrow saw in Korea, we saw,"
Variety commented after the program was aired, "for a
battle front was brought into the parlor." The headline
over the column on the Korean Show was Variety's attempt
to categorize Murrow's approach: "Murrow's Korea: The New
Journalism."83
While Murrow was in Korea, his staff began to
assemble film footage about Senator McCarthy. They were
well aware of the potentially explosive nature of the
material. Murrow and Friendly examined the accumulated
film-—McCarthy's speeches since 1950, his Senate testimony
before his own and other committees—-and agreed that the
"time was right" for a program about McCarthy himself.
Although they had touched upon the erosion of civil
liberties in previous "See It Now" programs, they had left
the Senator alone. "From what we have got here about
McCarthy," Murrow told Palmer Williams, "the guy is going

to hang himself."84

Murrow informed William Paley that the March 9

"See It Now" was about Senator McCarthy. The following

166

week another "See It Now" program, "Annie Lee Moss Before
the McCarthy Committee," was also scheduled. Paley told
Murrow "to be careful . . . and, if he [McCarthy] asks for
time to reply, give it to him." When Murrow requested
money for newspaper advertisements, Stanton refused.

Once again, Murrow and Friendly paid the the fifteen

hundred dollar advertisement in the New York Times out Of
85

 

their personal funds.
On March 2, 1954, "See It Now" featured a profile
of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. It ended with a
note by Murrow:
We desired to do one report that has nothing what-
ever to do with the cold war, with current crises,
or with the retreat into unreasoning fear that seems
to be a part of the climate in which we live. We
shall try to deal with one aspect of that fear
next week.

On March 9, the New York Times published the Murrow-

 

Friendly notice on the television page: "Tonight at 10:30,
on 'See It Now,' a report on Senator Joseph R. McCarthy
over Channel 2. Fred W. Friendly and Edward R. Murrow,
co-producers." "Ed and I knew that the timing of this
broadcast was crucial," Friendly wrote. "If we waited much
longer, history or McCarthy--or both-~might run us down."87
Production of the McCarthy program was completed
at the last moment. Murrow slept at the studio and worked
along with film editors. He was most concerned that his

narration and summation be precise and fair. He rewrote

the script a dozen times before he was finally satisfied.

167

When the program was finished, Murrow asked Paley and
- Stanton if they would like to preview the Show. Both
refused. Murrow gathered the "See It Now" staff together
and asked each individual "if there was anything you are
afraid of?" One man admitted his wife had been a member
of the Communist Party for a brief time during the late
19305. "It just doesn't matter," Murrow replied,
because we, like everyone else in this business,
are going to be remembered and judged by what we
don't broadcast. If we ull back on this, we'll
have it with us always.88

"Senator McCarthy" was probably the most simply
constructed of all the "See It Now" programs. Murrow
insisted during the editing process that McCarthy be
examined in light Of his own peculiar personality, and not
in terms of any "ideological movement" that might have
attached itself to the man.89 McCarthy was presented as a
politician prone toward making contradictory statements
and, at times, false accusations. Murrow's narration was
live and, as he stated at the outset Of the program,
"Senator McCarthy's story will be told mainly in his own
words."

The film footage assembled by the "See It Now"
production staff was devastating: McCarthy was Shown in
Committee hearings badgering witnesses, changing his mind
about the number of "Communist agents" supposedly employed

by the U.S. State Department, and referring to Adlai

Stevenson as "Alger, I mean Adlai." Murrow appeared on

168

camera and read newspaper statements critical of
McCarthy's attacks on the U.S. Army as the scene shifted
to a picture of the Senator laughing during the Army-
McCarthy hearings. Murrow wanted to Show just how
McCarthy functioned during his investigation of the State
Department. Footage of his questioning of Reed Harris, a
civil servant, was played for nearly five minutes.
McCarthy was questioning Harris' loyalty because of a book
Harris wrote in 1932 about international relations. The
camera caught McCarthy's expressions as he proceeded to
denigrate Harris' "patriotism" and, before Harris could
reply, McCarthy turned to his side and ignored the response.
Murrow stated that McCarthy succeeded only in proving that
Harris had "once written a bad book, which the American
peOple had proved twenty-two years ago by not buying it."
When McCarthy twisted the truth, or Simply lied,
Murrow's narration acted as an antidote. At one point,
McCarthy stated that the ACLU was a "subversive organi-
zation, and has been listed by the FBI and the Attorney
General's office." Murrow read from a script on his desk.
He noted that the ACLU had never been designated as
"subversive . . . and the group holds in its files letters
Of commendation from President Eisenhower and President
Truman." The technique of the entire broadcast was to

present McCarthy as a public figure who had on many

169

occasions distorted the truth. For the first time on tele-
vision, however, someone provided a direct refutation.

The film footage ended with three minutes Of air
time left. Murrow requested that he be given time to
comment upon the program's central "issue." AS was Murrow's
practice in previous programs, he found his point in
McCarthy's own words.

Murrow: Earlier the senator asked, 'Upon what meat
does this our Caesar feed.‘ Had he looked three

lines earlier in Shakespeare's Caesar he would have
found this line, which is not altogether inapprOpriate:
'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in
ourselves.'

This is not time for men who Oppose Senator McCarthy's
methods to keep silent. The actions Of the junior
senator from Wisconsin have caused alarm and dismay
amongst our allies abroad and given considerable
comfort to our enemies, and whose fault is that?

Not his, really. He didn't create this Situation

of fear; he merely exploited it, and rather success-

fully. Caesar was right: 'The fault, dear Brutus,
is not in our stars but in ourselves.'

Good night, and good luck.90
The McCarthy program was coupled with the March 16

"See It Now," "Annie Lee Moss Before the McCarthy Com-
mittee," as a case study of the senator's methods. Murrow
wanted Americans to understand exactly how McCarthy worked
to undermine investigatory processes. At the Opening of
the Moss program, Murrow stated that he believed the pur-
pose of "See It Now" was to present "the little picture."

In this instance, the "little picture" revolved around a

clerk in the Pentagon, Mrs. Annie Lee Moss, whom McCarthy

170

had accused of being an active member of the American
Communist Party.

Murrow edited the film from footage taken from the
McCarthy hearings. Once again, the senator did not listen
to responses even when Mrs. MOSS, a diminutive woman who
looked totally frightened, denied membership in the party.
Unlike the McCarthy program, Murrow allowed the edited
hearings to be Shown without narrative interruption.
McCarthy kept insisting that Mrs. Moss had delivered "coded
messages" to suspect persons. When it became clear that
there was a case of mistaken identity involved-~the "agent"
McCarthy alleged had had contact with Mrs. Moss lived in
another city at the time Of the supposed clandestine
meetings--abruptly "excused himself" from the hearings.
Senator Symington of Missouri examined Mrs. Moss and very
quickly absolved her of any guilt. He discovered that she
had lost her job at the Pentagon and had never been allowed
to face her accuser, or to see any written evidence impli—
cating her as a spy. He pledged to her his help in rein-
stating her in another job.

With two minutes left to go in the program, Murrow
introduced a film clip of President Eisenhower's recent
Speech to the American Bar Association. Eisenhower ended
his address with the admonition that "every American has
the right to face his accuser. He cannot come from behind

the shadows." "That was the thirty-fourth President of the

171

United States," Murrow concluded on camers, "speaking
rather eloquently about due process of law. Good night,
and good luck."91
The two McCarthy programs generated more publicity
than had any previous "See It Now" shows. McCarthy held a
press conference and alleged that Murrow, "the Director of
Talks at CBS," had once sponsored a "Soviet inspired trip

to that great Communist bastion."92

He denied "everything
Murrow said," although it was McCarthy himself who provided
the entire focus of the shows in his own words. Hate mes—
sages, as well as warmly worded telegrams of support, poured
into the CBS newsroom. But the one telegram that meant
the most to Murrow came from the CBS news staff:
You have fought many battles for all the rest of us
in the past, but none bigger, we suspect, more diffi-
cult tO join than this one. Because of what you are
and what you have done, you can say things that the
rest Of us may not. We are happier in our work these
days because of the other night.
Carl Sandburg also sent a short note: "Lately, you maintain

your status as one of the best of the liberty boys."94

The "See It Now" programs during 1953-54 had an
extraordinary impact on broadcasting. Not only did Murrow
and Friendly raise the television news program in stature
and the public esteem, but they became the first broadcast
documentarians. Murrow decided after the first year of
"See It Now" that television journalism must be more than

"a trick employing visual and aural magic . . . it must

172

Show an audience something about the 'why' of the world."95

He chose his subjects carefully, always believing in his
audience's ability to "sort out the good from the bad and
the bigger message within."96

Because of his prestige as a journalist, Murrow was
indeed able to Study public questions that other journal-
ists would not touch. The temper of the times was such
that McCarthyism, for example, was totally avoided by any
broadcast treatment. At the same time, Murrow saw in the
troubles surrounding "the little people" he was so fasci-
nated by the crux of a much larger issue: how was it
possible for civil liberties to be negated by a peculiar
kind Of political paranoia? To a large extent, Murrow
provided the answer in his summation at the end of the
McCarthy program. Quoting Shakespeare, he noted, "the
fault . . . is in ourselves." If the "fault" lay within
individual human responses, so did, Murrow believed, the
ability to "correct" those faults.

Murrow had always viewed his role as a journalist
in idealistic terms. "PeOple should be moved by what they
see or hear or read," he wrote after the Korean program.
"We who are responsible for one of those tasks are, in
effect, trying to tranSport them tO places, and to Show the
peOple, otherwise unavailable to them."97 News was more

than just instant history regurgitated "in an acceptable

manner via a pleasant medium," he told his staff at CBS

173

news after the end of the Second World War. Rather, it

was up to the serious journalist to set the mood of a

story as well as a broad factual outline. "It's involving
your heart and your eye and all of your senses," he Observed
in his journal. By the end Of 1954, Murrow had also
included "conscience" on his list of required respon-

sibilities.98

CHAPTER IV FOOTNOTES

1ERM "Speech to the Peabody Awards Committee,"
September 21, 1945; ERM Awards—Speeches File A, Murrow
Papers.

2Peabody Award Citation, "Excellence in Reporting,"
ERM Awards-Speeches File A, Murrow Papers.

3Memorandum from William Paley to ERM, October 5,
1945, Program File F, Murrow Papers. Paley noted his
"gratitude" for Murrow's work during the war, and added
that "we can only hOpe that CBS News continues the
tradition."

4Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, October 6,
1945, Program File F, Murrow Papers. Paley always insisted
that Official messages be transmitted in memorandum form.
Hence, even a promotion was written in the "correct CBS
manner" by all employees, including Paley.

5Letter from ERM to Paul White, January 12, 1946,
Correspondence File M, Murrow Papers.

6William Paley, "Speech to the CBS Stockholders,
1946 Meeting," Corporate Business File A, Murrow Papers.

7Ibid.

8Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, January 14,
1946, Corporate Business File A, Murrow Papers.

9Alexander Kendrick, Prime Time: The Life of
Edward R. Murrow (Boston: Little Brown, 1969), p. 279.

 

 

10The New York Daily News, December 15, 1946, p. 23;
New York Sun, December 18, 1946, p. 11.

 

 

174

175

11A right-wing pressure group, "Action for Safety,
Inc.," sent over one thousand letters to the Federal Com-
munications Commission protesting the CBS program. Carbon
copies were sent to CBS. Program Reaction File A, Murrow
Papers.

12Memorandum from William Paley to ERM, August 30,
1947, Program File F, Murrow Papers.

l3CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News,"
September 29, 1947, Transcript File T, Murrow Papers.

14Letter from ERM to William L. Shirer, November 26,
1947, Correspondence File J, Murrow Papers.

15Letter from Gerald T. Manner to ERM, February 13,
1948, Audience Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.

16Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, January 11,
1949, Program File G, Murrow Papers.

17Letter from ERM to Fred W. Friendly, April 23,
1949, Correspondence File K, Murrow Papers.

181bid.

19ERM Daily Journal, May 12, 1949, Personal Papers
File C, Murrow Papers.

20"The Growth of Television in the United States,"
Broadcasting, March 18, 1948, p. 31.

 

21"TV Use in American Homes," Broadcasting,
December 17, 1949.

 

22Memorandum from William Paley to ERM, January 3,
1949, Program File G, Murrow Papers. Paley maintained
that "since we know little about TV news, we better hold
back on any substantial investments for time and personnel.
It might not go anywhere."

23Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, November 3,
1950, Program File H, Murrow Papers. Murrow told Paley
"that by increasing our TV news coverage we could help to
maintain the status we got during the war . . . it's now
or never."

176

24American Business Consultant, Red Channels: The
Report Of Communist Influence in Radio and TeleviSion (New
York: Counter-Attack Publications, 1950). The list of
names appearing included: Larry Adler, Luther Adler, Stella
Adler, Edith Atwater, Howard Bay, Ralph Bell, Leonard
Bernstein, Michael Blankfort, Marc Blitzstein, True
Boardman, Millen Brand, Oscar Brand, J. Edward Bromberg,
Himan Brown, John Brown, Abe Burrows, Morris Carnovsky,
Vera Caspray, Edward Chodorov, Jerome Chodorov, Mady
Christians, Lee J. Cobb, Marc Connelly, Aaron Copeland,
Norman Corwin, Howard Da Silva, Roger De Koven, Dean
Dixon, Olin Downes, Alfred Drake, Paul Draper, Howard Duff,
Clifford J. Durr, Richard Dyer-Bennett, Jose Ferrer, Louise
Fitch, Martin Gabel, Arthur Gaeth, William S. Gailmor,
John Garfield, Will Geer, Jack Gilford, Tom Glazer, Ruth
Gordon, Lloyd Gough, Morton Gould, Shirley Graham, Ben
Grauer, Mitchell Grayson, Horace Grenell, Uta Hagen,
Dashiell Hammett, E. Y. Harburg, Robert P. Heller, Lillian
Hellman, Nat Hiken, Rose Hobart, Judy Holliday, Roderick B.
Holmgren, Lena Horne, Langston Hughes, Marsha Hunt, Leo
Hurwitz, Charles Irving, Burl Ives, Sam Jaffe, Leon Janney,
Joe Julian, Garson Kanin, George Keane, Donna Keath, Pert
Kelton, Alexander Kendrick, Adelaide Klein, Felix Knight,
Howard Koch, Tony Kraber, Millard Lampell, John LaTouche,
Arthur Laurents, Gypsy Rose Lee, Madeline Lee, Ray Lev,
Philip Loeb, Ella Logan, Alan Lomax, Avon Long, Joseph
Losey, Peter Lyon, Aline MacMahon, Paul Mann, Margo, Myron
McCormick, Paul McGrath, Burgess Meredith, Arthur Miller,
Henry Morgan, Zero Mostel, Jean Muir, Meg Mundy, Lynn
Murray, Ben Myers, Dorothy Parker, Arnold Perl, Minerva
Pious, Samson Raphaelson, Bernard Reis, Anne Revere,
Kenneth Roberts, Earl Robinson, Edward G. Robinson,
William N. Robson, Harold Rome, Norman Rosten, Selena Royle,
Coby Ruskin, Robert St. John, Hazel Scott, Pete Seeger,
Lisa Sergio, Artie Shaw, Irwin Shaw, Robert Lewis Shayon,
Anne Shepherd, William L. Shirer, Allan Sloane, Howard K.
Smith, Gale Sondergaard, Hester Sondergaard, Lionel
Stander, Johannes Steel, Paul Stewart, Elliot Sullivan,
William Sweets, Helen Tamiris, Betty Todd, Louis Unter-
meyer, Hilda Vaughn, J. Raymond Walsh, Sam Wanamaker,
Theodore Ward, Fredi Washington, Margaret Webster, Orson
Welles, Josh White, Ireene Wicker, Betty Winkler, Martin
Wolfson, Lesley Woods, Richard Yaffe.

 

 

25Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to William
Paley, June 23, 1950, Corporate Affairs File C, Murrow
Papers.

177

26Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to William

Paley, July 2, 1950, Corporate Business File D, Murrow
Papers. Stanton told Paley he "was in contact with
Hartnitt, and he is being very helpful."

27Erik Barnouw, Tube of Plenty: The Evolution of
American Television (New York: Oxford University Press,
1975), p. 121.

 

 

28ERM Daily Journal, August 19, 1950, Personal

Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

29Memorandum from Fred W. Friendly to Hubell

Robinson, June 2, 1951, Program File F, Murrow Papers.

30Memorandum from Fred W. Friendly to ERM, June 5,
1951, Program File F, Murrow Papers.

31Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly, July 12,
1951, Program File F, Murrow Papers.

32Variety, May 14, 1951, p. 8.

33Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to William
Paley, May 23, 1951, Program File F, Murrow Papers.

34Letter from ERM to his brother, October 11, 1951,
Correspondence File J, Murrow Papers.

35Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,

November 15, 1951, Program File F, Murrow Papers.

36Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff,
November 17, 1951, Program File F, Murrow Papers.

37Memorandum from Fred W. Friendly to Hubell
Robinson, December 12, 1951, Program File G, Murrow
Papers.

38CBS broadcast, "See It Now," November 10, 1951,
TV Transcript File A, Murrow Papers.

39Ibid.

178

40Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,
December 21, 1951, Program File G, Murrow Papers.

41There are several copies of Murrow's daily
schedule in the Murrow Papers. They Show just how busy he
was; each moment of his working day-—which usually began
at eight in the morning and ran well after midnight--was
devoted to one broadcast project or another. Murrow Daily
Timetable and Schedule, Personal Business File A, Murrow
Papers.

42Television Nielsen Ratings, 1951—1952, Program
File G, Murrow Papers.

43Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM,
January 9, 1952, Program File G, Murrow Papers.

4Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM,
January 15, 1952, Program File G, Murrow Papers.

45Memorandum from William Paley to ERM, March 12,
1953, Program File H, Murrow Papers.

46Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
February 6, 1953, Program File H, Murrow Papers.

47Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton, June 2,
1953, Program File H, Murrow Papers.

48Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, June 12,
1953, Program File H, Murrow Papers.

49ERM Daily Journal, June 14, 1953, Personal Papers
File C, Murrow Papers.

50Fred W. Friendly, Due to Circumstances Beyond
Our Control . . . (New York: Random House, 1968), p. 5.

 

 

51ERM Daily Journal, August 11, 1953, Personal
Papers File D, Murrow Papers.

52Friendly, p. 5.

179

53CBS broadcast, "See It Now: The Case of Lt. Milo
Radulovich," October 20, 1953, TV Transcript File B,
Murrow Papers.

54Letter from ERM to Public Information Office,
United States Air Force Command, Pentagon, October 11, 1953,
Program File H, Murrow Papers.

55Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
October 13, 1953, Program File H, Murrow Papers.

56Friendly, p. 11.

57Memorandum from CBS Business Department to ERM,
October 16, 1953, Program File I, Murrow Papers.

58Friendly, p. 9.

59CBS broadcast, "The Case of Lt. Milo Radulovich."

60ERM Daily Journal, October 21, 1953, Personal
Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

61"The Case Against Mr. Murrow," New York Post,
October 22, 1953, p. 46.

 

62"Murrow's Big Pinko Mistake," Counterattack,
October 31, 1953, pp. 8-10.

 

3Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,
November 5, 1953, Program File J, Murrow Papers.

64Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, November 17, 1953, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

65Letter from McCann and Erikson Advertising
Agency to Dr. Frank Stanton, November 21, 1953, Advertising
File B, Murrow Papers. McCann and Erikson, the agency
handling the Campbell Soup account, was especially vocif-
erous in its complaints to the network.

66Memorandum from ERM to Hubell Robinson,
December 3, 1953, Advertising File B, Murrow Papers.

180

67Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,

December 5, 1953, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

68Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, December 10, 1953, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

691bid.

70Letter from ERM to Lacey Murrow, January 2, 1954,

Personal Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

71Letter from ERM to Hubell Robinson, December 11,
1953, Personal Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

72Memorandum from Fred W. Friendly to Hubell

Robinson, n.d., Program File B, Murrow Papers.

73CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Trieste," November 10,
1953, TV Transcript File B, Murrow Papers.

74Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,

November 13, 1953, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

75CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Argument in Indian—
apolis," November 24, 1953, TV Transcript File C, Murrow
Papers.

76ERM "Speech to the National Education Association,
December 18, 1953," Awards-Speeches File, Murrow Papers.

77Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, November 22, 1953, Program File B, Murrow Papers.
Murrow was remarkably candid with his staff about each
broadcast's possible repercussions. This was especially
true during the McCarthy period.

78Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
December 27, 1953, Program File C, Murrow Papers.

79Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, December 30, 1953, Program File C, Murrow Papers.

80CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Christmas in Korea,"
December 29, 1953, TV Transcript File C, Murrow Papers.

181

81"See It Now" shooting scripts File A, "Christmas
In Korea." Murrow frequently made notations calling for
changes, additions, and editing sequences on his draft
scripts. These Shooting scripts reveal how he decided to
edit a film during the actual editing process in New York.

82Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
December 28, 1953, Program File C, Murrow Papers.

83Variety, December 30, 1953, p. 12.

4Memorandum from ERM to Palmer Williams, December 2,
1953, Program File D, Murrow Papers.

85Friendly, p. 31.

86CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Anatomy of a Sym—
phony Orchestra," March 2, 1954, TV Transcript File C,
Murrow Papers.

87Friendly, p. 32.

881bid., p. 33.

89Memorandum from ERM to Palmer Williams, March 4,
1954, Program File D, Murrow Papers.

90CBS broadcast, "See It Now: A Report on Senator
Joseph R. McCarthy," March 9, 1954, TV Transcript File D,
Murrow Papers.

91CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Annie Lee Moss
Before the McCarthy Committee," March 16, 1954, TV Tran-
script File D, Murrow Papers.

92The McCarthy press conference was taped by CBS.
A full transcript of the conference is located in a special
file devoted to Senator McCarthy in the Murrow Papers.
"The Case of M," File A, Murrow Papers.

93Telegram from CBS News Staff to ERM, March 10,
1954, Personal Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.

94Letter from Carl Sandburg to ERM, March 19, 1954,
Personal Correspondence File B, Murrow Papers.

182

95Memorandum from ERM to Palmer Williams, April 13,
1954, Program File C, Murrow Papers.

96Ibid.

97Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, January 5,
1954, Program File B, Murrow Papers.

98ERM Daily Journal, December 15, 1954, Personal
Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

CHAPTER V

THE FORUM EXPANDS

Television can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and it
can even inspire. But it can do so only to the extent
that humans are determined to use it to those ends.
Otherwise it is merely wires and lights in a box.
There is a great and perhaps decisive battle to be
fought against ignorance, intolerance, and indiffer-
ence. This weapon of television could be useful.

Edward R. Murrow, 1958

The function Of art has always been to break through
the crust of conventionalized and routine conscious-
ness.

John Dewey, The Public and
Its Problems, 1927

 

 

In late May of 1954, Murrow had just finished the
final editing of a "See It Now" program about the south.
"A Study Of Two Cities" dealt with the impact of school
integration in Gastonia, North Carolina and Natchitoches,
Louisiana. Murrow called the program "a mirror behind a
way of life and a new aspect Of an Old problem."1 As he
finished looking at the newly edited film, he was asked
to come to the control room by one Of the engineers.
Several people were gathered around a studio monitor
watching a new CBS prime-time Show, "The $64,000 Question."

Murrow was horrified by the program. Later that evening

183

184

he wrote to Frank Stanton, asking if "CBS is really inter-
ested about quiz-junk being passed off in the 'public
interest?'" Stanton replied immediately, Obviously angry
that Murrow would "try to question decisions out of your
competence." "A program in which a large part Of the
audience is interested," Stanton stated, "is, by that very
fact, in the public's interest."2

By 1954 commercial television in the United States
was earning tremendous profits. At CBS, Frank Stanton and
William Paley decided to support production of more enter-
tainment and quiz programs. The growth of the network's
national audience created a much wider market for adver—
tisers, most of whom, according to Stanton, "want to get

the most bang out Of their bucks."3

Stanton honestly
believed that advertising revenue was attracted to sponsor-
ship Of "noncontroversial shows." "It's a fact of life,"
he told Murrow."4

CBS management was concerned about the "vast
expenses incurred" by the "See It Now" series. Murrow
had always insisted that film be generously supplied in
order to provide a large stock of film footage from which
to choose during editing. Stanton's office told Murrow to
"hold back" expenses "since it is not possible to provide
everything you want." Although "See It Now" enjoyed a

large audience during 1954, the major sponsor of the series,

ALCOA, was beginning to lose faith in what its corporate

185

advertising manager referred to as "controversial program

5

material." "Times are getting tough for us," Murrow told

his staff, "and I think we better work even harder."6
The McCarthy broadcasts caused a great deal of
alarm at the highest executive levels of CBS. Stanton,
for example, felt that "See It Now" was becoming a "parti-
san for certain views . . . leaving the protective halo
Of journalistic Objectivity."7 When Murrow received an
award from the Freedom House Foundation for "Outstanding
Contributions to Free Expression" in the summer of 1954,
his acceptance speech irritated Paley. "There is a false
formula for personal security being peddled in our market—
place," Murrow stated,
and this product, if it be bought by enough people,
leads to paralysis. It is this, though not so
labeled: Don't join anything. Don't associate.
Don't write. Don't take a chance on being wrong.
Don't espouse unpOpular causes. Button your lip and
drift with the tide. Seek the ease and luxury of
complete equanimity, by refusing to make up your
minds about issues that wiser heads will one day
decide.8
Paley interpreted Murrow's remarks as a direct attack on
the kind of television CBS believed in. "Maybe Bill is
right," Murrow noted in a memorandum. "Maybe he and I are
on opposite sides of the question as to how we use the
medium." For Murrow, public affairs programming meant that

the audience had to be exposed to "everything possible of

public importance, no matter how frightening the issues

186

become . . . or how threatening they are to certain special
interest groups."9
Murrow was determined to use his unique position
at CBS to try to influence the course of public affairs
programming. He wanted to demonstrate that "TV has such
absolute promise as an aid for Americans to understand a
wider world." Through his continued participation in
several crucially important "See It Now" productions,
Murrow intended to prove to Paley and Stanton and the
broadcasting industry as a whole that "the public's right

10 He Simply refused to

to know has always been our job."
accept the notion of a CBS executive who told him that
"TV's job is to give peOple what they want: escapism,

entertainment, and spectacular diversions."11

Roscoe Murrow once told his famous son that "it
don't seem quite right, you gettin' paid all that money
just for talking'--especially since you don't sound any
different than you did when you were talkin' and hangin'
around the porch years ago." His son framed his father's
words over his desk. "It's good to remember where I came
from," he told his brother. "Important, too, is that I
remember the real peOple in America in my work."12

Murrow knew the McCarthy programs served a decided

purpose. He viewed the senator and his followers as

"aberrations" in American politics and told Friendly

187

"that I want to deal with the genius for good in this

country, too."13

By presenting the programs, Murrow earned
a larger audience for "See It Now." He intended to use
the series as vehicle "for the exploration of the perfectly
ordinary events, as well as the extraordinary people, who
contribute to society."14
Several months before the Supreme Court's public
school desegregation decision in 1954, Murrow planned a
"See It Now" program about race relations in the south.
Born in North Carolina, he knew the deep antipathies that
existed between blacks and whites. "If the south can solve
this problem, or at least move away from its history for
a moment," he told his staff before the actual production,
"it will prove an amazing feat." He outlined his plans to
Friendly in a lengthy memorandum, pointing out what "tele-
vision could do to introduce the country to the complexity
of the issue." Suggesting that the film crew "be specific"
in its choice of Shots, Murrow demanded that attention "be
paid" to capturing the "essence of the south." "All this
means," he told cameraman Palmer Williams, "is that you
look for those images which reveal a greater meaning . . .
get in close, get the nuances."15
Williams' film footage arrived in New York just
as the Supreme Court delivered its historic Opinion in

"Brown v. Board of Education" on May 17, 1954. In the

final editing, Murrow was able to select from nearly ten

188

hours of film. "A Study of Two Cities" was aired on May 25,
1954, and it was the first television documentary to examine
a potentially explosive racial situation. By concentrating
on the words and faces Of community leaders in Gastonia,
North Carolina and Natchitoches, Louisiana, Murrow fashioned
a portrait of the two towns that went beyond the question
of segregation versus desegregation. Rather, the program
pointed out that the South was facing a massive social and
political problem and, as Murrow observed in his narration,
"is being forced to deal with its past as well as its
present."16
Murrow's careful editing allowed him to point out
how the "irony and tragedy" of the modern South was evident
in the imagery of her communities. For example, when he
opened the program with an explanation of the "issue
involved," he selected some footage Williams took of a
statue in the town Square Of Natchitoches. As the camera
pulled in closely, one saw the statue: a black man sub-
missively bowing his hat. Murrow read the inscription:
"Erected in grateful memory of the good darkies of
Louisiana." The scene quickly dissolved into a Shot of
another inscription, this time the motto Of the Supreme
Court, “Equal Justice Under the Law."17
The interviews that followed explored the per-

ceptions of various individuals toward race relations:

schoolchildren, teachers, ShOpkeepers, farmers. Each one

189

revealed his fears and, in several moving examples, a sense
of guarded Optimism about the future. One black student
stated that "integration could be the most wonderfulest
thing in the world." He then began to cry as he walked
around his decrepit school yard at the "colored folks

«18

school. Murrow made no comment. "The scene simply

stands by itself," he noted at the bottom of his shooting
script.19
The "See It Now" cameras followed the controversy
to local Baptist churches. Of all the scenes Murrow had
to choose from in the editing, he saw "the realization of
the problem there, in God's house." At the white church
music was playing in the background. The congregation
listened attentively as their minister Spoke about the
need "to implement this court action lovingly, patiently."
While he Spoke, the camera panned over the faces of indi-
viduals nodding their heads in approval or, in one case,
of a man visibly angry. The program ended when Murrow's
voice-over narration stated, "that these communities are
beginning to debate, soberly and seriously, their combined
futures."20
As a composite picture of the way in which the
prOSpect of school integration was being faced, "A Study
of Two Cities" was successful. Murrow discovered the means

by which visual realities could be deftly combined in a

public affairs program. While Offering no solutions, the

190

program did manage to suggest the complexity of the issue
in two specific communities. "Our Object is to confront
the audience with the issues," he wrote to Friendly, "and
they must choose from among the Options we present."21
This was the "mirror" Murrow wanted to employ in order to
reflect what he felt was at the "heart of the American
soul"--a willingness to consider new and perhaps uncom-
fortable ideas.22
After "A Study of Two Cities" was broadcast, Murrow
immediately began working on another program. For many
years he admired and corresponded with Carl Sandburg.
Fascinated by Sandburg's ability to evoke "everything I
have felt lay at bottom about America," Murrow wanted to
devote an entire "See It Now" program to a profile of the
poet/historian. Murrow took a small camera crew to North
Carolina to spend several weeks with Sandburg on his farm.
"Carl and I talked for a long time," he wrote Friendly,
"and after a while, he just avoided the camera, spoke from
his guts . . . the naturalness Of it was great."23
Of all the "See It Now" productions, Murrow was
most relaxed during the filming and editing of "A Visit
to Flat Rock--Carl Sandburg." He saw the program as an
attempt to "document an American original . . . as one who
writes about enduring topics." He instructed his film

crew to "just follow us around, allowing us to talk and

ramble." The profile was constructed around a simple theme:

191

the inherent value in any artist's effort to understand
his country's past and its future. Murrow told Friendly
that "what I am doing . . . has Shown me that some men,
like the Senator, want to scare us to death; but with
others, like Sandburg, there is the effort to enlighten."24
To Murrow, "the effort to enlighten" was also the
primary responsibility of broadcast journalism. In the
Sandburg program he felt he was able to isolate, in part,
"some Of the genius Of this country." By fixing the
camera's attention on Sandburg's rambling conversations,
songs, poetry and history, Murrow was presenting what he
called "the life of the mind as it works its way through
problems and ideas." He wanted his audience to see how
one man was capable of dealing with his country's history
as well as its present "in ways," he noted in his journal,
"that are lyrical and truthful." "It is what television
can do best," Murrow told Sandburg, "if it is allowed to
by those who control the medium."25
Sandburg dominated the entire program. He told
anecdotes about American politics, Lincoln as a young
lawyer in Illinois and as "an anguished war leader."
Murrow had introduced Sandburg in a simply written state-
ment that Opened the program. As the camera caught the

two men walking through the woods at the edge Of the poet's

farm, Murrow's voice was heard off-camera:

192

There are men who can point to a skyscraper, to a
railroad, to a billion-dollar corporation, and say:
'That's mine. I did that. That's my life's work.‘
These twenty eight volumes represent the life work 26
of Carl Sandburg . . . who spends his life writing.
Murrow's careful editing of the film footage was tightly
structured: Sandburg was always on camera, "talking away
like a man possessed . . . about Ty Cobb and bad poetry,
Lincoln's humor and his tears, goat's milk and goober

27 Close-up Shots caught Sandburg's hands playing

peas."
the guitar, singing Old Civil War songs, stating that he
wanted to "be known as a man who says: 'What I really want
and need is three things in life: to be out of jail, to

eat regular, to get what I write printed, and then a little
love . . . ."28 And at the very end Of the program,

Murrow edited in a short segment in which Sandburg read a

Short passage from his early novel, Remembrance Rock.

 

He had asked Sandburg to read something "that has meaning
for today . . . for our frightened times." Sandburg knew
Murrow meant the program to end on a hopeful note to
balance "the hOpelessness of McCarthy." "When we say a
patriot is one who loves his country," Sandburg read,
"what do we mean?"

A love that can be thrown on a scale . . . a love
that we can take apart to see how it ticks . . .
where with a yardstick we record how long, how high,
how visible? Or is a patriot's love . . . a thing
invisible, a quality, a human shade and breath beyond
all reckoning and measurement? But the mockers came,
and the deniers were heard. They forgot where they
had come from. It has cost to build this nation.

193

"Mr. Sandburg does not like adjectives," Murrow's closing
added, "so we shall say that we are beholden to him for
having written and read."29
Although the Sandburg program received critical
acclaim, word reached Murrow that the CBS "management" was
not pleased with the broadcast. "It seems they were not
very happy with the ending," Murrow told cameraman Charlie
Mack.30 Stanton wrote to Murrow "quietly suggesting" that
"See It Now" was becoming "more of an advocate for certain
political-social positions." Murrow replied with a lengthy
memorandum outlining his "thinking" about the role of
broadcast journalism. "If certain peOple found the Sandburg
film disturbing," he wrote, "then so much the better . . .
for I believe that our purpose is best served when we do
indeed shake up Opinions, or challenge beliefs. This is

31 He never received a reply from the CBS

still possible."
president.
Murrow prOposed a "working arrangement" with
Friendly whereby Murrow would concentrate his attention
on several forthcoming "See It Now" programs. Since his
schedule was so filled with commitments for continued radio
commentaries as well as to another primetime program,
"Person-to-Person," Murrow decided to work on a "select

32

few" "See It Now" films. "They will be profiles, for the

most part," he told Friendly, "for that's what I do best

194

. . . . I get down to people, let them talk and provide
the focus."33
For the first time, Murrow began to Speak about
his "documentary television work." He saw the "See It Now"
staff as somehow different from the regular news Operation
at CBS because, as he wrote in a memorandum to his staff,
"we are in the business of challenging the audience, in
hopes of starting a dialogue about important issues."34
He did not deny that he was presenting "factual material,"
but he did see the difference between a straight recitation
of news "events" and "See It Now's" in-depth examination
of key personalities and issues. "Not only does it make
my work different," he noted in his journal, "but it makes
it potentially more controversial . . . for there is a
point-Of-view built into the editing process."35
Murrow's conviction that the television public
affairs-documentary was based upon a "point-Of-view" was
apparent in a "See It Now" program about The Union of
South Africa. And though his feeling about the somewhat
nebulous definition of "journalistic Objectivity" was
Shared by his staff and Fred Friendly, the CBS management
felt otherwise. Along with correspondent Howard K. Smith,
Murrow wrote a small part Of the narration for "Report on
South Africa," a two-part "See It Now" series aired in

December 1954. Smith had completed the bulk of the report-

ing and supervised the filming, while Murrow helped him

195

edit and prepare the Opening and closing segments of the
programs. The film footage Smith brought back from his
three week stay in South Africa was devastating: the con-
trasts between the Obvious affluence of the white minority
and the disenfranchised Africans was captured in scene
after scene. Murrow was clearly moved and horrified by
Smith's film. "When I see human beings treated like
garbage," he told Charlie Mack, "I quite naturally become
incensed . . . but as far as the South Africa program goes,
I think it will be Obvious to the audience that there is

36

something terribly wrong with their system." Although

Murrow did not allow his personal feelings about Apartheid

 

to intrude too heavily into the final editing process, his
belief that "a society cannot exist when the majority of
its pOpulation suffers, quite overtly, at the hands of the
minority" was clearly Stated in the choice of film and

37

narrative design. He allowed the film to present the

message of "South African life."38
"Report on South Africa" was filled with statistics
comparing whites and nonwhites: the high illiteracy rate
among Africans; the lavish educational system for whites
and the primitive school system of the Africans; the wide-

spread "passport" system Of registration for all "non-

whites"; the manner in which Apartheid worked throughout

 

the entire society.39 Murrow called the "system" an

"unfortunate one," stating that it was "perhaps

196

self-defeating . . . for how long can a minority continue
to deny basic rights to a majority . . . . But, in Spite
of it all, the economic boom continues."4O
Murrow knew that CBS would receive complaints from
those viewers who objected to a perceived "moral stand."
Not the least of these complaints came from the South
African government itself in a formal letter to Paley
immediately after the second program. Paley passed the
letter to Murrow, noted in a separate note that "it might
be necessary to answer this." But Murrow felt that the
programs provided "more than enough proof, evidence, if
you will, of what they are doing to peOple." He added that
as a journalist "and documentarian" his role was to "sum
up the evidence . . . and this I did."41
Although William Paley understood the need for his
network to program news and "the occasional public affairs
Show," he was not happy over Murrow's decision to refer
to "See It Now" as a documentary series. "It is too easy
to inflame peOple," he wrote Murrow, "when you consciously
attempt to persuade them of a particular point Of view . . .
for it leads to misunderstanding and, worse, to negative
feedback from sponsors."42 Murrow was not prepared to
abandon his approach, however. He felt strongly that any
detailed examination of an issue would "necessarily cause

some criticism." At the same time, he refused to consider

the Opinions of corporate sponsors, "since, if we allow

197

them to intrude in our work they can, in effect, act aS

3
censors."4

He was certain that the American public was
capable of recognizing "the value" Of public affairs pro—
gramming that was willing to concentrate on "special topics."
And though he believed in the importance of any journalist
trying to be fair to his material, he dismissed a rigid
adherence to "cold calculated theories of pure Objectivity"
as "an impossible dream."44
AS soon as Murrow finished working on the South
African programs, he began production of three major "See
It Now" films: profiles of Doctors J. Robert Oppenheimer
and Jonas Salk, and an examination of how a small Texas
newspaper successfully investigated a major land scandal.
Murrow viewed the three programs as "case studies of
creativity and courage." He told Friendly that the profiles
"were meant to celebrate genius . . . and if CBS thinks
that I will back out of any one of them because of certain
pressures, well, they're nuts."45
Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer, Nobel Laureate in
Physics and Director of the Institute for Advanced Study
at Princeton University, represented the ideal Of the
intellectual life for Murrow. He had known the scientist
for several years and finally persuaded him to do a program
about the Institute, "seen," as Murrow wrote in his

narration, "through the eyes and mind of one man."46

198

Oppenheimer's opposition to further develOpment of
nuclear weaponry and official government secrecy about
nuclear power had cost him his security clearance. Though
he fought the government concerning its decision, he was,
as Stanton admonished Murrow, "a very controversial man
. . . whose politics might cause raised eyebrows." Stanton

warned Murrow "not to aggravate the Situation by asking

Oppenheimer about politics." "I will ask him about every-
thing," Murrow replied. "I intend to learn something, so
"47

will the audience, so might you.

The outline Murrow drew up prior to his series of
interviews with Oppenheimer was filled with ideas he hOped
would be realized in the final program. He told his staff
that he wanted the profile "to be more than just an inter-
view,"

since I think I can make a film about the life Of
the mind in America. Television with very few excep-
tions has ignored, for various reasons, studying the
native genius that exists here . . . . Oppenheimer
is, in many ways, a public intellectual: standing

up for ethical values in science, pushing others to
consider the implications of their own work, pro-
viding a haven for free thought at Princeton Univer-
sity. When it was dangerous to do so, he told the
government to rethink its positions. This is, I
believe, especially important when, as Sandburg said
last year, patriotism is Often measured with a yard—
stick.

The interviews with Oppenheimer were conducted throughout
one weekend at Princeton. Murrow had spent weeks preparing
for the filming, reading what he could about Oppenheimer,

physics, and nuclear power. He wanted the program "to

199

touch upon everything that may be of interest to the unin-
formed layman." At the same time, he noted in his shooting
script that his subject Should "be pushed into answering
. . . why a devotion to passionate searching and testing"
was so important to the intellectual health of society."49
The interviews resulted in over twelve hours of
film footage. The editing was, as Murrow told Friendly,
"fairly easy since I had a firm idea of where the program
was going." He found that Oppenheimer was an eclectic
intellectual, his interests ranging over a variety of
topics: the value of the scientific method, the need to
guard free thought at the Institute, the relationship
between theoretical and applied science, the role of the
scholar in a "mechanistic, technological world." Oppen-
heimer was distinctly uncomfortable talking about his own
accomplishments, and he kept directing the interview back
to a broader examination of the issue Of science and
society. At several points in the program, he turned to

his bookcase, located a copy of Plato's Republic or Albert

Einstein's Collected Works, and quoted long passages. When

 

Murrow admitted "a profound ignorance of physics," Oppen-
heimer went to the blackboard and outlined a "Simple prob-
lem" in theoretical physics. "Sometimes it's not the
result that counts," he told Murrow, "but the sheer excite-

ment of the search."50

200

Murrow saved the final ten minutes of "A Conver-
sation With Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer" for "that moment
when . . . he began to address himself to a pointed dis-
cussion of government secrecy." Toward the end Of the
filmed interviews, Murrow discovered that the scientist
had "really focused in on" why he had become such a figure
of controversy within the defense establishment. "Oppen-
heimer suddenly looked quite sad at this stage," Murrow
told Charlie Mack, the cameraman in charge of the program,
"and he looked all around as if he were making a plea to
a silent audience . . . your camera caught him beauti-

fully."51

The segment Murrow chose for inclusion into the
final program was a summary Of Oppenheimer's feelings.
"There is a point I deel most deeply," Oppenheimer Stated,
and I think I really speak now the voice of my pro-
fession. I mean the integrity of communication.
The trouble with secrecy isn't that it doesn't give
the public a sense of participation. The trouble
is that it denies to the government itself the wisdom
and the resources of the entire community. There

aren't secrets about the world of nature. But there
are secrets about the thoughts and intentions of men.

52
When the Oppenheimer program was aired in early January
Murrow noted in his journal, "that the beauty of what I

am trying to do is the possibility Of freezing time, a
moment of life . . . and in Oppenheimer's remarks, those
carefully selected moments did stand for something larger."
For Murrow, the success of any "See It Now" had to be

judged against the quality of "universal meanings" in any

given program. He told his staff that "truth can be

201

approached in a variety of ways, and we have our own
peculiar way of getting there."53
Murrow quickly began production of another "See It
Now" program about science and the process of discovery.
In the achievements of Dr. Jonas Salk and his research
colleagues, Murrow saw a sustained attempt to "better the

human condition."54

In a live broadcast from The University
of Michigan, Murrow and the "See It Now" crew carefully
presented a series Of interviews with Dr. Salk, several

of his research assistants, and Dr. Thomas Francis, the
scientist responsible for the nation-wide testing of the
polio vaccine. Though Salk was not as articulate about

his role as a scientist as was Oppenheimer, he did Speak
about "the constant frustrations" of research and the
ensuing "joy" he felt when a breakthrough was achieved.
Murrow's leading questions forced Salk to address himself

to several issues: the need for increased government
sponsorship Of basic research and "how research methodology
could be used to combat other medical and societal problems."
Salk talked about both areas with, as Murrow noted after

the program, "a great deal Of passion." "We have a vast
responsibility," Salk stated, "and the one intangible
ingredient is determination . . . that alone will make the
difference."55

Murrow had so thoroughly prepared for the Salk

program that, despite the live broadcast, he managed to

202

centralize the interviews around a major theme: the
relationship between the individual scientist and the
society he served. He viewed the work of Salk and Oppen-
heimer as part of "their implied responsibility to the
rest of us." By carefully drawing the discussion back to
this theme, he hOped that not only would science become
"less mysterious" to his audience but would also become
part of a necessary public discussion. To a large extent,
therefore, Murrow acted as a facilitating agent, hoping,
as he noted in his journal, "to start the ball rolling

. . . so that the public can see that there are hundreds
of issues they are capable Of understanding and dis-

"56 As the critic Gilbert Seldes observed in a

cussing.
letter to Murrow Shortly after the Salk program: "The way
in which public affairs programs have been handled by you
lately, leads me to believe that you indeed cherish the
concept others in your profession forget-~the public's

57 Seldes'

right to know and be constantly informed."
praise was cherished by the broadcaster. It was, he
replied, "the most honorable compliment I could receive
for my work."

Both the Oppenheimer and Salk programs essentially
revolved around the personality of each man. When Murrow
found out about a tiny Texas newspaper that was providing

detailed coverage of a major land scandal--while other

Texas newspapers ignored, or played down the details—~he

203

immediately planned a "See It Now" profile of the paper and
its editor. Along with correspondent Ed Scott, he went

to Cuero, Texas to produce a "case study" of "how the little
guys sometimes win." In "Texas Land Scandal: The Power of
the Press," Murrow attempted to demonstrate how one man,
working under tremendous pressure in his own community,

was able to expose a public fraud. At the same time,

Murrow was consciously designing a program that would

honor his profession and one of its practitioners, Ken

Towery, editor Of the three thousand circulation Cuero
58

 

Record.
When the film footage was assembled in late April
of 1955, Murrow painstakingly edited in both the history
of Towery's efforts and the results Of the investigation.
The "See It Now" camera caught moments of tension as
Towery related his story and the manner in which he was
threatened for "trying to bring down the good name Of
Texas landholders." He had discovered a fraudalent scheme
to steal bonuses from semi-literate Texas veterans, many
Of whom, according to Murrow's narration, were attempting
to use their bonus money for small land purchases. "Only
Towery wrote these kinds of stories," Murrow noted at the
Opening of the program, ". . . but now it is a major story;
and it was the small press in Cuero that had the power to

start it."59

204

As he was editing the film, Murrow noticed how, in
scene after scene, Towery, "a normally quiet, subdued man
with one year's experience as a reporter," became terribly
animated as he told his story. To Murrow, the small town
editor represented "the best" of a journalistic tradition
with "roots in American history." At one point Towery had
tears in his eyes as he told why he was so "furiously
engaged in the matter." "Only because," he Observed,

"I'm afraid of what happens when peOple don't realize what
happens when they are manipulated for the wrong reasons.

That's why I did it."60

In a startling dramatic moment, as
Towery was speaking to Murrow, the phone rang on camera.

Towery answered. "It was the city desk of The Houston

 

Ppgp," Murrow noted, "and they wanted to get Towery's
reaction to the big news: he had just won a Pulitzer Prize
for reporting." Murrow had the last word in the program.
It was a comment he hOped would be understood by all
journalists and those who, as he told Ed Scott, "are the
owners of our media."

Thirty-eight hundred isn't much of a circulation--
not much power as newspapers are generally measured,
but courage and power aren't always found in the

same package. There are newspaper the television
networks with much greater circulations and much more
potential power than the Cuero Record. The Pulitzer
Committee merely called attentiOn to courage, perhaps
with the hope that it might be contagious.

61

 

Good night and Good Luck.
Murrow was pleased with his work during the 1955

season. Although he confined his direct participation in

205

"See It Now" productions to five major programs, he actively
worked along with Friendly "in coming up with new ideas."
The series was, however, in deep trouble with its Sponsor,
ALCOA. As company salesmen reported "how irate" certain
"big customers" were with "See It Now's" programs, pressure
grew within the company to drOp its sponsorship. "ALCOA
said it was having difficulty in explaining why their com-
pany was against McCarthy and for Oppenheimer, and why

they were for socialized medicine--which is what some
doctors thought our Salk program advocated," Friendly wrote.
When the 1955 season ended, ALCOA decided to withdraw its
commercial support of "See It Now." The land scandal
program was, as Murrow was told by an ALCOA representative,
"the final straw." The company viewed the program as a
"direct attack" on business interests in Texas. Murrow

was told that the company was "enlarging its interests"

in Texas, and the feedback from Texas to Pittsburg was
"instantaneous." On May 5, 1955, only two days after the
broadcast, ALCOA Officially notified Murrow of the non-
renewal decision. "TV's SEE IT NOW SPONSORLESS: TO BE

SEEN ONLY NOW AND THEN," a headline story by Jack Gould in

the New York Times stated. Gould called ALCOA'S decision

 

"disturbing . . . Since TV has only one program like it,
and one Murrow."62
Paley told Murrow "See It Now" would be "cut back"

in 1956. He cited increasing costs for the series (now

206

in excess of $150,000 per Show) and added how the network
could not find a sponsor "in prime-time hours" to generate
the necessary revenue to underwrite the program. He had
decided to schedule "See It Now" in a far less expensive
time-Slot on Sunday afternoons. "Life was no longer as
Simple as it was in the days when Murrow could say, 'Let's
do Radulovich," Friendly told the staff.63
During the late summer of 1955, CBS distributed a
promotional booklet to its affiliates around the country
outlining the "coming season." "Prime time viewing is
going to be better than ever next year," the front page
stated in bold letters. Prime time did not include Sunday

afternoon.64

Since 1950, Murrow continued with his radio work
for CBS. Although he wrote very few of his own commen-
taries--leaving the bulk of the writing to Jesse Zousmer
and John Aaron, his chief writers--he felt strongly about
"the value of radio as news medium." His participation in
"See It Now" left him little time to Spend "agonizing over
one minute think pieces," but he had never quite forgotten
how much he loved radio and, as he told Zousmer, "the
intimacy Of speaking into a pictureless micrOphone."65

Murrow's commentaries were very personal and were

unlike the OOpy prepared by his writers. When Zousmer and

Aaron provided the basic writing, the one minute commen-

207

commentaries were invariably about world politics, edu-
cation, or political affairs in Washington. They were, as
Murrow jokingly told Aaron, "real heavyweights." But when
Murrow wrote his own COpy there was a marked difference in
both style and delivery. "Sometimes I think people appreci-
ate a personal confrontation with news events," he told
Friendly. "And, more Often than not what I write has
nothing to do with 'news,’ rather they are Observations,
memories, Off-the-cuff stuff."66
His favorite subjects, however, were always about
individuals he had known either professionally or per-
sonally over the years. In 1952, for example, he devoted
five radio commentaries to British politics and the changes
taking place in post-war Britain. He wanted his audience
to understand "how the unique has been institutionalized
in British political life . . . through such peOple as

Churchill and Clement Atlee."67

In describing Churchill's
bid for office against the Labor Party, Murrow wrote with
great affection about both Churchill and Atlee. To Murrow,
each politician represented "power tempered by a degree of
humanity." He wrote about Clement Atlee as a "man with

. . . little in his manner that distinguishes him from
thousands of bank clerks, yet he is a man who has presided
over the government that has produced a great social

68

revolution." Churchill was "one Of the most considerable

men of our age," yet a man who, as Murrow added, "was

208

69 Each man had his

adept at the application of power."
faults, and Murrow documented them in order to "demonstrate
to my audience that politicians share all of the faults

and sins Of the rest of us."

When he returned to Korea in December 1952, he
wanted to "make a very personal plea, of sorts" to those
who would hear his commentary. Because he felt that most
Americans could only understand the "bitterness of armed
conflict" in terms of his own "subjective reactions," he
dedicated the commentary to his young son, Casey. He spoke
of children he saw everyday in Korea, "their eyes are black,
their Skin a sort of golden brown . . . but without much
clothing." He added that there were "a lot of fathers
thinking about their children in Korea, because loneliness
on Christmas Eve must be felt, not written about."70 But
Murrow, as journalist, was writing about what it was like
to be in Korea on a Christmas Eve, or on a trOOp transport
pulling into a Korean port, or in a hospital filled with
maimed soldiers from both sides. It was, he Observed on
the air, "his role to deal with feelings and mood." And
most of all, he was consciously attempting to express to
his audience the common humanity "of all people, who for
various reasons, can be either noble or base, frightened
or brave, or who are somewhere in the great middle . . .
bouncing Off extremes just trying to survive as best they

can."71

209

The ability of men to survive was a major theme in
many of Murrow's radio commentaries. He saw evidence of
this in the work of nuclear scientists searching for "more
peaceful uses for atomic energy," the "young men who fly
into the eyes Of hurricanes for the National Weather
Service," and in "the work Of civil rights lawyers" prior
to the violence at Little Rock's Central High School. He
would single out those elements of "strength, either moral
or intellectual or physical" and describe them as they
were demonstrated in difficult situations. He talked about
teachers who were in overcrowded classrooms because he had
visited such classrooms all over the country, and he would
detail "the Sheer struggle to educate in abnormal con-
ditions." There was always an understated plea to the
audience to "listen to what I am saying, for, if you were
here, or had the time, some Of these things and events
would make you angry or proud."72

In late 1956, Murrow returned to Europe for a
Short visit. He found it difficult to fly over the con-
tinent without publicly remembering for his audience "what
it was like" to "have my head buzzing with memories."

The memories were from the war:
Somewhere down there is Dover, and you wonder what's
happened to that grey, Old seagull who used to sound
the warning Of approaching German aircraft. You
notice that the seats in this chartered job are
covered with plaid. And, for no reason that reminds

you Of Bob Sherwood over the Bay Of Biscay in 1942
asking for a prayerbook. And you remember the drOp

210

across the Rhine, the big sergeant from New Jersey,
how he looked down and saw English girls digging
potatoes and you decided that middle-aged reporters
Should not fly alone.73

And there were moments when he mourned the passing of
political leaders ”my own generation has known so well."
He wrote about former Vice-President Alben Barkley, for
example, with great affection:

In the woods, when a great and ancient tree that

has weathered many storms suddenly comes crashing

down, there is a sound of smaller trees snapping

back into place. And then there is silence, more

complete and oppressive than any silence that went

before. Frequently this happens on a dead calm day

for no apparent reason. So it was today with

Senator Alben Barkley of Kentucky. The tributes

will flow, some will be eloquent. But mostly they

will resemble the sound of smaller trees snapping

back after a giant tree has come crashing down.

There were times when Murrow found radio the "only

real way to speak what I am seeing." He knew that the
CBS management would not allow him the television time for
"the hundreds of subjects" he wanted to explore. He did,
therefore, use his radio commentaries as vehicles for his
interests. At the same time, he was well aware of what he
called "my certain talent for radio writing," and he
believed that a carefully constructed commentary still had

75 "The

"importance" for a visually oriented audience.
trick to this business," he told Zousmer, "is to be very,
very selective about word choice . . . every sentence

76 Thus, a

Should bring the audience to where you are.”
commentary about the abortive Hungarian revolt in 1956 was

not about the politics of the situation but concerned the

211

Hungarian exiles Murrow had known over the years, and the
reactions he noticed when they "talked about their home,
their eyes telling all, their hopes for freedom smashed

by Soviet tanks."77

And he would try to relate his immedi-
ate reaction tO a "new place or a new group Of peOple" by
writing his commentaries in a manner that evidenced his
own, as well as his subject's enthusiasm. When he was in
Israel filming a "See It Now" profile of the young nation,
he took time to write a future broadcast. He was not
interested in telling about the "complex politics," rather
it was the "fervent participation of the young" that caught
his attention:

In this kibbutz . . . most of the youngsters come

from the cities. They will tell you that we have

brought in an Oil well and that we are devEIOping

cotton crops. They can leave if they want to. They

get no pay. This isn't free enterprise, but it is

enterprising. They sing in the cowsheds and in the

showers, and I'm assured this isn't an act put on for

a visiting fireman.

Throughout his long career as a radio commentator,
Murrow's style rarely varied from the pattern he had used
as a young journalist in Europe. He always devoted the
major section Of each broadcast report to individuals he
considered "to be interesting even though they may not be

important or powerful."79

He called radio "a peculiar
sort Of medium . . . more intimate than any other system
Of mass communication, its micrOphone serving as a direct

individual contact between speaker and listener." He

would gently remind his staff that "needless complexity"

212

in writing only served to confuse the listener. Although
he never regretted his deep commitment to "See It Now" as
a "powerful journalistic tool," he seemed to "feel more at
home" in the CBS radio studio.

The CBS radio staff asked Murrow to devote more
time to radio commentaries. He told them that "there just
aren't enough hours in the day for what I want to do."

"We could see how upset he was," John Aaron noted, "as if

a part of his life was gradually slipping away from him."80
In a half-mocking tone, Murrow wrote to a listener and
expressed "amazement" that "people like to hear my ramblings
on-the-air over radio." "They may be ramblings," the man
replied shortly after, "but at least they are about all of

us . . . and that counts for something in our age."81

Murrow was relieved when the General Motors Corpor-
ation agreed to underwrite "See It Now's" six scheduled
programs for 1955-56. He told the company that the first
program of the season would be a "detailed study" Of the
American Vice-Presidency. The basic idea for the program
stemmed from his conviction that ”most Americans have
little idea of how their political system works . . .
especially this office." When his staff complained about
"the somewhat boring material they had to work with,"

Murrow brushed aside all negative comments. "It doesn't

213

matter if the Show is exciting--this is TV's big problem;
merely that it informs will be enough."82
After nearly six weeks Of work, "The Vice-
Presidency--The Great American Lottery" was completed.
The final program included both historical narrative about
the Office as well as interviews with President Eisenhower
and Vice—President Nixon. Murrow was convinced that the
American Vice-Presidency was an ill—defined position,
hampering its occupants and rarely allowing them any "real
power to lead." Although he excised any personal opinions
from the narrative--he was not fond of Nixon, and told his
staff "to watch out for the man, he has the rather slippery
ability I detest in politicians"—-General Motors decided
after previewing the film to cancel its sponsorship.83
In a note to Murrow, GM insisted the program "was a direct
attack on Mr. Nixon, a result of your criticism of the
Office as a 'form of political patronage.'" Murrow did
indeed consider the Vice-Presidency as a political tool,
"often used as a vote getter at conventions," but he in
no way "attacked" Nixon. As a journalist he was merely
attempting to point out the Obvious faults in an Office
that was, as he noted in his shooting script, "underused

84 Murrow was angered by GM's decision to

and maligned."
cancel, and he was equally enraged at the ease by which
the company convinced CBS to let them drOp sponsorship.

"It is pure cowardice," he told his staff, "and I am

214

discovering how intolerable it is to work in a situation
wherein decisions are based on corporate expediency."85
The network could not find another sponsor for
"See It Now" and was forced to underwrite the series with
an in-house division, Columbia Records. The Vice-
Presidential program was finally aired in October and
received much critical acclaim as a "worthy public affairs
Show about a subject the American public knows little."86
Murrow felt that his "strong questioning" of Nixon "made
the Show." By carefully preparing his questions, Murrow
was able to elicit candid answers from the Vice-President.
Nixon revealed, for example, his frustration in office and
the way in which he was Often "avoided" when policy
decisions were made by Eisenhower. In Nixon's statements
Murrow found the central point of the program, and he said
so in his closing remarks: "We can no longer afford to
underestimate the importance of the Vice-Presidency,
because it demands . . . not the least Objectionable
person, or even the most convenient political choice of
the moment . . . but the best." In a dramatic sixty second
film clip, Murrow ended the program with a shot of
President Eisenhower being taken away to Walter Reed
Hospital following his near-fatal heart attack. When

General Motors saw what Murrow had done with the last two

minutes of the program, they asked him to delete--or at

215

least soften——his remarks. He refused, and the program
ran as originally edited.87
In a memo to Paley, Murrow defended his "right”
to explore public issues, "no matter whom they might
Offend." Paley was upset about GM'S decision to cancel
sponsorship of "See It Now" and he felt there was "no need
to purposely anger corporate sponsors." "It may be in the
nature of things," Murrow stated, "that journalists should
have freedom to probe and discuss without being shackled
by economics or censorship (one Often leads to the other)."88
Murrow saw how broadcast journalism was being restrained by
the commercialism Of the medium, and he told Friendly "we
have to watch out . . . for I think it will get all of us
in the end."89
Although he promised his family he would "ease Off"
of his grueling work schedule, Murrow immediately began
working on another "See It Now" production. For several
years he had been interested in the plight of the small
farmer in America. He told Friendly that American agri-
culture had "1ong been ignored" by the media as being
"either too complicated, or too dull a subject." He
admitted having a "moral interest in the subject that may
sway me toward a certain position," but he assured his
co-producer that "moral passion" could be beneficial to

the journalist. He equated "moral passion" with a dedi—

cation to work as hard as possible, "making the tOpic,"

216

he noted in a preliminary draft script, "come alive . . .
looking for the nuances, the details."90
At the same time, Murrow equated the journalist's
"moral interest" with the public's right to know. He
constantly wrote memorandums to his staff urging them to
"take a stand on certain public issues." He did not
demand, however, that objectivity or fairness of presen-
tation be submerged beneath "polemical Opinions," rather
that each member of the staff be "aware" of certain
"critical problems" which required in-depth examination.
He never forgot, or allowed his staff to forget, that
television journalism reached a vast national audience.
"Insofar as our voice is so magnified," he noted in his
journal, "it makes our work doubly important . . . for to
Shirk our jobs, or to take the easy way out by doing the
'exciting tOpics‘ at the expense of more mundane subjects,
is, I think, tantamount to a kind of treason to ideals."91
Murrow's program about American agriculture was a
clear attempt to demonstrate his ideal Of "concerned
journalism." He told Friendly the "See It Now" film crew
had "captured a way of life . . . moments which reveal the
pressures and strains of the small farmer." From the
collected footage, he was able to find the theme of the
program: despite the government's contention that "never

before has the small farmer had it so good," evidence

showed the Opposite taking place throughout the country.

217

"And we are going to present it all in human terms,"
Murrow stated, "all of the farm auctions, the poverty,
the hopelessness."92
"The Crisis Of Abundance" was aired during an
election year. Ezra Taft Benson, the Secretary Of Agri-
culture, had been traveling around the country extolling
the virtues of the Eisenhower administration's farm
policies. When Frank Stanton previewed the final pro-
duction of Murrow's program, he was a little more than
apprehensive. "We can't afford to inflame the government,"
he told Murrow, "and we certainly can't be on the 'Offen-
sive' during an election year."93
But CBS management made no moves to censor the
broadcast in any way. When the program was aired in late
October, the American audience was presented with a detailed
study documenting the decline of the family farmer. Murrow
introduced the program using statistics supplied by the
Department of Agriculture. The figures showed a "healthy"
farm economy and especially pointing out the "continued
vigor of the small family farmer." The government's
statistics, however, were directly contradicted by the
film footage which followed: farm auctions in the midwest,
personal testimonies by several Iowa farmers, agri-
business agents bidding On bankrupt farms in Minnesota and

Nebraska. Murrow edited in the emotional plea of one

Nebraska farmer who, as Murrow noted, "seems to sum up the

218

real problem." "I just go by bank account," the man
stated, "and it just don't add up no more."94
Murrow saved the last three minutes of the program
for a reply by Secretary Benson. Benson angrily denied
Murrow's "emotional attempts" to denigrate the Agriculture
Department's "highly scientific statistics." By giving
Benson time to reply, Murrow felt the program had afforded
both sides a chance. "We stated our view, Benson gave
his own and the government's. The audience will have to
decide who has made the best case."95
Immediately after the broadcast, Murrow and a
small crew left for a three week trip to Israel. He
planned a "See It Now" profile of the young nation built
around "a very detailed look at the people and their

96 Shortly after he arrived, however, he

environment."
received an urgent cablegram from a member of his staff.
The network had decided that, "because of the delicacy of
the agriculture program, and the possible political conse-
quences for CBS," time would be given to Secretary Benson
for a "formal reply" to Murrow's program about the American
farmer. Murrow was enraged. Not only was CBS providing
"equal time" for Benson, but they were doing so during
prime time. "This damn thing violates all we are trying

to do," Murrow cabled Stanton, "for you know that Benson
will make a purely political speech . . . Speaking for the

"97

Republican Administration. To Murrow, CBS was buckling

219

under to a "perceived threat," and, as he told Stanton,
"it just stinks." Despite Friendly's pleas and arguments,
Murrow was convinced that a "gulf" was growing between the
network and the "See It Now" Operation. "The Old days of
freedom are gone," he noted in his journal . . . and it's
a damn shame."98
Murrow was almost prepared to return to New York.
Friendly convinced him to finish the Israel program and,
by the time Murrow began filming, he was too involved in

99 The Israeli

the work to "leave it all in the middle."
guides assigned to the "See It Now" crew were surprised
when Murrow showed little interest in touring new buildings
or the recently constructed University City in Tel Aviv.

He kept dragging the film crew back to the small settle-

ments along the border and the kibbutzim outside of the

 

cities. "The peOple who live in these places," he noted
in an early shooting script, "are the ones who are making
this country come alive." He told the cameraman that he
wanted to be out of all of the film. "It's the peOple you

are after. Not me. Watch them."100

The finished product,
edited in a three day marathon session back in New York,
was a sensitive, detailed portrait of a struggling nation.
Murrow chose the title: "Israel--Portrait of a Nation."

In the thousands of feet of film footage shot by

Murrow and his crew, almost each scene dealt with indi-

vidual Israelis. Critic Gilbert Seldes Observed that

220

Murrow "found a kind of universal message in Israel . . .
one that revolved around a Spiritual identity and a dedi-

d."101 As Murrow talked about "the

cation to nationhoo
idealism Of the young men and women who live here," for
example, the camera concentrated on a group of construction
workers who continued to work long after their foreman

told them "to just go home for the day." At another point
in the film, a beautifully framed shot Of an Israeli family
planting a small tree included their conversation. "We

are giving life where none existed before," an Old woman
noted, her hands grasping a heavy shovel, "and we define

Patriotism as the giving of life.n102

Throughout the
entire film little mention was made of the tense political
Situation in the Middle East. Instead, Murrow had designed
a program about people "in a constant process of struggle."
At the same time, however, it revealed his own deep sym-
pathies with Israel and, as he told Paley, "with those
individuals who make their lives out of nothing."103
The praise Murrow received from the critics was
overshadowed by the huge volume of hate mail that poured
into the network after the broadcast. Arab groups as well
as American anti-Semitic organizations condemned the pro-
gram as being "little more than Zionist-Jew prOpaganda."
DeSpite the fact that Murrow commissioned Howard K. Smith

to do a profile of Nasser's Egypt--some three months

before the Israel program--even the CBS management began

221

to voice concern over "See It Now's" "continuing affinity
for controversy where none existed before." In the net-
work's executive management meetings, Stanton began to
worry aloud over "a news division that seeks to make news
rather than report what is already happening."104
"See It Now's" Sunday afternoon time slot made it
difficult to attract sponsors for the series. Murrow was
convinced that CBS was prepared to accept "the Slow death"
Of the series and, as he told his staff, "to mourn for
about five minutes Should it actually happen." He decided
to complete production plans for the 1956 season. "I may
even have to hustle sponsors by myself," he told Friendly.105
Finally, after several days of negotiations, Pan
American World Airways agreed to underwrite one "See It
Now" program dealing with Danny Kaye's world tour for
UNICEF. Murrow arranged for a film crew to follow Kaye
on his trip. Pan American was happy with the edited
version for, as they told Stanton, "we have avoided any
controversy . . . it's just good, clean informational pro-
gramming." Although Murrow had little to do with the
program--he introduced the film in a brief two minute
Opening segment-—"The Secret Life of Danny Kaye" did not
impress the company enough to "warrant further sponsor-

ship." A Pan American official wrote to Murrow explaining

the company's position, stating that "it is difficult for

222

a Sunday afternoon Show, good though it may be, to attract
a large enough audience."106
When Murrow announced to his staff that he had
arranged an interview with Premier Chou En-lai of the
PeOple's Republic of China, the reverberations from network
management were quickly felt in the news division. Murrow
had been secretly negotiating with the Chinese for almost
five months trying, as he wrote his brother, "to convince
them I was sincere." Through the Offices of U Nu Of Burma,
Murrow received word in late 1956 that Chou was willing to
be interviewed. The interview was produced as a Special
"See It Now" show in early 1957. Stanton told Murrow that
"Mr. Paley is not altogether pleased with your Chinese
plans."107
In preparation for the Chou interview, Murrow Spent
several weeks reading everything he could find about con-
temporary Chinese affairs. Although Chou stipulated, as a
precondition of acceptance, that "Spontaneous questions
cannot be allowed," Murrow felt the program was important
enough to warrant "an otherwise intolerable intrusion into
good journalistic practice." The program was aired in
February 1957. Chou answered prepared questions with stock
responses. But he did reveal that "there was a distinct

possibility" for some improvement in Sino-American

relations." To Murrow, the program represented an attempt

223

to penetrate "a nation much maligned because of prOpaganda
that is often uninformed."108
The CBS management responded to the Chou interview
by scheduling "a counter-program" featuring anti-Chinese
speakers. Murrow was totally disenchanted when he dis-
covered the network had chosen the guests more for their
"Obvious cold war views" than for any expertise in Chinese
affairs. CBS followed the exact same pattern when Murrow
produced and interviewed a program about Marshall Tito of
Yugoslavia. Tito was quite candid in stating his views
about international politics. He castigated both the
Soviet Union and the United States for "creating a tense
international situation." Once again, Paley insisted that
Tito's remarks be followed by, "at some apprOpriate time,"
a rebuttal by "well-known authorities." "It's becoming
obvious that CBS has little, if any faith in its audience's
ability to judge issues for themselves."109
By the end of 1957, CBS decided that "See It Now"
was "something Of an economic liability." Sponsors backed
away from the series despite Murrow's personal pleas to
several large corporations. Stanton told him the network
"cannot carry the economic burden of total sponsorship much
longer, eSpecially when a series, such as your own, is
getting to be so costly."110

Murrow rushed to complete two more scheduled pro-

ductions: a profile of singer Marion Anderson and an

224

examination Of the controversy surrounding the Alaska-
Hawaii statehood question. He assigned the statehood
program to Friendly and produced the Anderson profile
himself. "The Lady From Philadelphia" was, as Murrow noted
in his journal, "a labor of love." Murrow and his film
crew returned with raw footage Murrow found "exceptionally
beautiful and sensitive." He noticed that "the evidence"
he collected was a tribute to the artist's survival.

When the Anderson program was aired, critics were
quick to notice that Murrow's style was, as Jack Gould

wrote in the New York Times, "evident throughout . . . with

 

a firm eye for detail and nuance and, above all, an intense
feeling for the subject as a unique individual."111
Murrow's narration was simply written. He wanted the
audience to concentrate on Anderson. He Opened the pro-
gram with a brief biographical sketch Of the singer
followed by a ten minute film segment showing her laborious
preparation for a public concert in New York City. AS
Anderson rehearsed a song over and over again, Murrow's
voice-over narration Observed "how some artists create for
all of us, even though, at times, some of us try to pre—
vent this from happening." A quick dissolve into a film
clip showing the President Of The Daughters Of the American
Revolution announcing the group's decision to forbid Miss

Anderson from singing in the massive DAR hall in Washington.

"The DAR has a color ban," Murrow stated, "and they do not

225

see beyond their own ideas of color, or art, or song.“
The program ended with a series of close-ups of the singer
performing outside Of the Lincoln Memorial. "On this day,"
Murrow added as the camera drew away from Anderson's face,
"the lady from Philadelphia sang for all of us."112
Ironically, it was the much less interesting "See
It Now" program on the statehood issue that finally caused
the death of the series. Murrow did not consider the
question of statehood "to be all that important at the
moment," but he knew there was a continuing debate in
Congress and the issue was "almost forgotten by most
Americans." When he saw Friendly's film footage, he knew
that "there will be some debate by those who do not like
Fred's chosen interviewees." Friendly interviewed the
pro and anti-statehood factions in Congress. He also
included impassioned defenses of Hawaii by Patsy Mink, the
Hawaiian Territorial Representative in Congress, and
Harry Bridges, the controversial leader of the Inter-
national Longshoremen's Union. Friendly strove for balance
in the arguments presented but, soon after the program was
aired, Congressman Harry Pillion wrote directly to Paley
protesting the "totally distorted show . . . all of which
was pro-statehood." Pillion asked for equal time in which
to make a reply citing, for example, "the need to counter-
act the pro-communist leanings of Harry Bridges.“ He

added that CBS would "increase its chances for survival" by

226

"blackballing all leftists from your airwaves." Paley
agreed with Pillion. His decision precipitated an angry
confrontation with Murrow.113
Paley told Murrow that "See It Now" had become a

"constant headache every time it tackled a controversial
subject." He added that financial "exigencies" prevented
the continuation of another season for the series. At the
direct order of the Chairman of the Board Of CBS, "See It
Now" was officially cancelled. The decision was announced

by the network the following day. "See It Now" was eulogized

by Herald Tribune critic John Crosby. "Murrow's program

 

was born in the early days of television," Crosby wrote,

when it was thought TV was a tremendous medium for

the exchange of information Of ideas. The game

shows came along in the later phase when it was

discovered that television was better suited to

parlour games and give-away money. 'See It Now'

enlightened us. 'Twenty-One' stupefied us. The

fact that CBS can afford 'Beat the Clock' but not

Murrow is shocking, to say the least.11

Three days after Paley's announcement about "See

It Now's" cancellation due to "financial exigencies," the
network released its financial report to stockholders.
During the 1957-58 season, the Columbia Broadcasting System
earned over twenty-seven million dollars in profits. The
report noted that "it has been a great year for the net—
work," and, in a section titled "Future Plans," announced
corporation intentions to "make a substantial investment in
an amusement park in Southern California." CBS, the report

added, wanted to "compete with Disneyland."115

227

In October 1958, Murrow was asked to deliver the
keynote speech at the Radio and Television News Directors
Convention in Chicago. He intended to use the occasion to
criticize medium he had worked in for over twenty years.
"There is more sadness than reproach in this talk," a note
on one of his draft COpieS stated, "because that is the
way one talks about a tarnished dream."116

Murrow had been openly critical of American broad-
casting prior tO the Chicago speech. But his appearance
at the RTNDA meeting was his first attempt to "bring the
message home to the industry itself." The RTNDA was the
major professional association of all working broadcast
journalists. Although the convention organizers told
Murrow that "you could do us a real service by plumping
us up a bit . . . by making the audience feel there is a
real future for our business," Murrow was not prepared to
deliver any sort Of "soft-Spoken praise where it is not

"117

warranted. "It is my desire, if not my duty," he

stated at the beginning of his speech, "to talk to you
with some candor about what is happening to television."118

Murrow reviewed his idealistic hopes for broad-
casting, mentioned the "dreams" the young CBS staff had
for the medium "when it was considered a miraculous

invention for the transmission of information and ideas."

He told the assembled news directors commercialism was

228

destroying broadcast journalism, "and this is cause enough
for an abiding fear for the future."

Our history will be what we make Of it. And if there
are any historians about fifty or a hundred years
from now, and there should be preserved the kine-
scopes for one week of all three networks, they will
find there evidence of decadence, escapism, and
insulation from the realities of the world in which
we live.

If Hollywood were to run out of Indians, the program

schedules would be mangled out of all recognition.

The some courageous soul with a small budget might

be able to do a documentary telling in fact what we

have done--and are still doing--to Indians in this

country. But that would be unpleasant. And we must

at all times shield the sipgitive citizens from any-

thing that is unpleasant.
He ended his speech as he had begun it: with an expression
of "absolute sadness" at the state of American television.
"If we go on as we have been, retribution will not limp
far behind in catching up with us."120

Murrow's Speech became a front page story in the
national press. When he returned to New York the CBS news
staff gave him a standing ovation. "I guess I should have
said that stuff years ago," he wrote in his journal, "but
I always maintained a kind Of hope things would change."121
He told a young staff member from the now-defunct "See It
Now" film crew that "I never had the right forum for what
I said in Chicago." "You found it years ago," the young
writer replied, "as soon as you began working for CBS."122
Murrow asked Paley to give him "a year Off, a

sabbatical leave, if you will." Paley agreed, and Murrow

finished several more radio commentaries for the network.

229

He intended to use his year off, as he told his radio
audience in his last commentary, "reading, listening,
keeping silent. And my thanks to those of you who have
reminded me that an amplified voice does not increase

the wisdom or understanding of the speaker."123

CHAPTER V FOOTNOTES

1Memorandum from ERM to Palmer Williams, May 29,
1954, Program File K, Murrow Papers.

2Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM, May 30,
1954, Program File K, Murrow Papers. Stanton would always
send a memorandum outlining the major points covered in
any telephone conversations.

3Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to Hubell
Robinson, CBS Business-Corporate Affairs Office, March 13,
1954, Corporate Affairs File J, Murrow Papers.

4Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM,
February 19, 1954, Corporate Affairs File J, Murrow Papers.
Although Stanton was usually quite reserved in his relation-
ships with subordinates, he would frequently state his
point Of View, quite Openly, within Official correspondence.
Murrow was always soliciting Opinions concerning network
policy from Stanton who, in turn, wrote long, detailed
memorandums.

5Letter from ALCOA, Inc., Advertising and Promotion
Department, to ERM, April 17, 1954, Corporate Business
File J, Murrow Papers.

6Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, May 13, 1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

7Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM, May 15,
1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

8ERM "Speech to the Freedom House Award Committee,
June 28, 1954," Awards—Speeches File B, Murrow Papers.

9Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, June 12, 1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

230

231

loIbid.

11Memorandum from Hubell Robinson to ERM, June 14,
1954, Corporate File C, Murrow Papers. Robinson was an
important account executive at CBS. He eventually became
the chief corporate Officer in charge of relationships
with network sponsors.

12Letter from ERM to Lacey Murrow, September 10,
1952, Personal Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

13Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
February 18, January 5, 1954, Program File L, Murrow
Papers.

l41bid.

15Memorandum from ERM to Palmer Williams and
Fred W. Friendly, April 12, 1954, Program File L, Murrow
Papers.

16CBS broadcast, "See It Now: A Study Of Two
Cities," May 25, 1954, TV Transcript File L, Murrow Papers.

17Ibid.

18Ibid.

19"See It Now" Shooting scripts File C, "A Study of
Two Cities," Murrow Papers.

20"See It Now: A Study of Two Cities."

21Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly, May 27,
1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

22ERM Daily Journal, May 29, 1954, Personal Papers
File C, Murrow Papers.

23Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
September 10, 1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

24Ibid.

232

25Letter from ERM to Carl Sandburg, October 11,
1954, Personal Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

26CBS broadcast, "See It Now: A Visit to Flat
Rock--Carl Sandburg," October 5, 1954, TV Transcript File L,
Murrow Papers.

27Ibid.

28Ibid.

29Ibid.

30Memorandum from ERM to Charlie Mack, October 9,
1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

31Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,
October 11, 1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

2Murrow was involved with "Person-to-Person" from
1954 until 1958. I have not dealt with the series for
several reasons: Murrow had nothing to do with setting up
the interviews he conducted (they were organized completely
by John Aaron and Jesse Zousmer, his chief writers); he
merely showed up several hours before air time, quickly
read over prepared notes, and conducted the interview.
Secondly, there are only a limited number of transcripts
of "Person-to-Person" shows extant--the Murrow Papers
contain very few references to the show. Murrow was
always distinctly uncomfortable doing the program. He
received a great deal of money from the program, but set
it aside in a trust for his wife and young son. Murrow
devoted almost no effort to the program and, when Friendly
complained about the "Show business-like" quality of
"Person-to-Person," Murrow agreed. He did maintain,
however, that the program kept his face in the news and
was, therefore, good for the news division at CBS. Memo-
randum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly, February 3, 1954,
Program File P, Murrow Papers.

33Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly, April 7,
1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

34Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, November 12, 1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

233

35Ibid.

36Memorandum from ERM to Charlie Mack, December 2,
1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

37Ibid.

38Ibid.

39CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Report on South
Africa," December 14, 1954, TV Transcript File L, Murrow
Papers.

4oibid.

41Ibid.

42Memorandum from William Paley to ERM, December 18,
1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

43Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, December 19,
1954, Program File L, Murrow Papers.

44Ibid.

45Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
December 15, 1954, Program File M, Murrow Papers.

46CBS broadcast, "See It Now: A Conversation With
Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer," January 5, 1955, TV Transcript
File M, Murrow Papers.

47Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,
December 28, 1954, Program File M, Murrow Papers.

48Memorandum to "See It Now" Staff and Crew,
December 9, 1954, Program File M, Murrow Papers.

49"See It Now" shooting script, "A Conversation
With Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer," Shooting Script File D,
Murrow Papers.

50CBS broadcast, "See It Now: A Conversation With
Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer.

234

51Memorandum to Charlie Mack, January 3, 1955,
Program File M, Murrow Papers.

52CBS broadcast, "See It Now: A Conversation With

Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer."

53Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and

Crew, January 7, 1955, Program File M, Murrow Papers.

54Ibid.

55CBS broadcast, "See It Now: The Victory Over

Polio," April 12, 1955, TV Transcript File M, Murrow Papers.

S6ERM Daily Journal, April 15, 1955, Personal
Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

57Letter from Gilbert Seldes to ERM, April 29,

1955, Personal Papers File C, Murrow Papers.

58CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Texas Land Scandal--
Power of the Press," May 3, 1955, TV Transcript File M,
Murrow Papers.

59Ibid.

60Ibid.

61Ibid.

62The New York Times, May 6, 1955, p. 48.

 

63Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, January 25, 1956, Program File N, Murrow Papers.

64"The Coming Season: CBS Network Plans," Corporate
Affairs File G, Murrow Papers.

65Memorandum from ERM to Jesse Zousmer, April 4,

1952, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File D, Murrow
Papers.

66Ibid.

235

67CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News," March 13,
1952, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File D, Murrow Papers.

68CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News," March 15,
1952, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File D, Murrow Papers.

69CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News," March 17,
1952, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File D, Murrow Papers.

7OCBS broadcast, CBS Evening Radio News,"
December 24, 1952, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File D,
Murrow Papers.

71Ibid.

72CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News," June 13,
1957, Commentary Broadcast Transcript File G, Murrow Papers.
From time to time, Murrow would end a broadcast commentary
with a summary report. He would try to "tie up" his vari-
ous reactions to domestic and international events. He
would, therefore, cite other broadcasts he had delivered
over the years. This was one such broadcast.

73CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News,"
November 28, 1956, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File E,
Murrow Papers.

74CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News," April 30,
1956, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File E, Murrow Papers.

75Memorandum from ERM to Jesse Zousmer, May 11,
1955, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File D, Murrow Papers.

76Ibid.

77CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News,"
November 10, 1956, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File D,
Murrow Papers.

78CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News,"
February 1, 1956, Commentary Broadcast-Transcript File E,
Murrow Papers.

236

79Memorandum to Dr. Frank Stanton, March 6, 1956,

Personal Papers File H, Murrow Papers.

80Memorandum from John Aaron to Palmer Williams,
January 12, 1957, Personal Papers File H, Murrow Papers.

81Letter from Frank Zito to ERM, February 19, 1956,

Personal Papers File H, Murrow Papers.

82Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,

December 2, 1955, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

83Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and

Crew, August 23, 1955, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

84"See It Now" shooting script, "The Vice-

Presidency-—The Great American Lottery," Shooting Script
File E, Murrow Papers.

85Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, n.d., Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

86The New York Times, October 27, 1955, p. 45.

 

87Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,

October 18, 1955, Program File O, Murrow Papers. Murrow
defended his right to air the program as originally edited,
adding "that I cannot, in good conscience, bow to the
wishes of a sponsor--any Sponsor."

88Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, October 12,
1955, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

9Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
November 2, 1955, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

90"See It Now" shooting script (draft 2), "The
Crisis of Abundance," Shooting Script File F, Murrow
Papers.

91ERM Daily Journal, January 14, 1956, Personal
Papers File D, Murrow Papers.

237

92Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
October 12, 1956, Program File N, Murrow Papers.

93Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM,
October 11, 1956, Program File N, Murrow Papers.

94CBS broadcast, "See It Now: The Crisis of

Abundance," October 13, 1956, TV Transcript File N,
Murrow Papers.

95Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,

October 15, 1956, Program File N, Murrow Papers.

96Memorandum from ERM to "See It Now" Staff and
Crew, October 17, 1956, Program File N, Murrow Papers.

97Cable from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton, October 31,

1956, Personal Papers File F, Murrow Papers.

98ERM Daily Journal, November 3, 1956, Personal

Papers File F, Murrow Papers.

99Ibid.

100ERM Daily Journal, November 6, 1956, Personal
Papers File F, Murrow Papers.

101Letter from Gilbert Seldes to ERM: December 19'

1956, Personal Papers File F, Murrow Papers.

102CBS broadcast, "See It Now: Israel--Portrait of

a Nation," January 22, 1956, TV Transcript File 0, Murrow
Papers.

103Memorandum from ERM to William Paley, February 24,

1956, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

104Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM.

March 3, 1956, Corporate Affairs File J, Murrow Papers.

105Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friend1Y:

March 7, 1956, Corporate Affairs File J, Murrow Papers.

238

106Letter from Ronald Jamatz, Vice-President for
Public Relations, Pan American World Airways, to ERM,
April 16, 1956, Corporate Affairs File J, Murrow Papers.

107Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM'

January 22, 1957, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

108Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,

February 12, 1957, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

109Memorandum from William Paley to ERM, March 12,
1957, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

110Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM,
November 16, 1957, Program File 0, Murrow Papers.

111The New York Times, March 28, 1957, p. 38.

 

112CBS broadcast, "See It Now: The Lady From
Philadelphia," March 25, 1957, TV Transcript File 0,
Murrow Papers.

113ERM Daily Journal, June 13, 1957, Personal
Papers File J, Murrow Papers.

114New York Herald Tribune, June 16, 1957, p. 3.

 

115CBS promotional booklet, "Financial Report and
Projections, 1957—58," p. 11, Corporate Affairs File L,
Murrow Papers.

116A draft copy of the speech is located in the
Awards-Speeches File A, Murrow Papers.

117Letter from RTNDA Steering Committee, National
Convention, to ERM, October 1, 1958, Awards-Speeches
File A, Murrow Papers.

118ERM, "Speech to the Radio and Television News
Directors Association," October 15, 1958.

119Ibid.

120Ibid.

239

121ERM Daily Journal, October 24, 1958, Personal
Papers File J, Murrow Papers.

122Letter from Arthur Johnson to ERM, October 30,
1958, Personal Papers File J, Murrow Papers.

123CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News,"
June 26, 1959, Commentary Broadcast—Transcript File H,
Murrow Papers.

CHAPTER VI

DEPARTURE

Among those upset by what Lyndon Johnson was doing
to the country and the networks was Ed Murrow. He
was sick and dying, out of the government by then,
out of CBS, full of misgivings both about Vietnam
and Lyndon Johnson. The night of the Gulf of
Tonkin incident, he called Fred Friendly in a
rage. "By what God-given right did you treat it
this way? What do we really know about what
happened out there? Why did it happen? How

could you not have Rather and the boys do some
analysis?"

David Halberstam,

"CBS: The Power and the
Profits," Atlantic Monthly,
February 1976

 

Murrow left CBS for his "sabbatical" at the end
of the 1958 season. "See It Now" was cancelled and the
network substituted another public affairs series, "CBS
Reports," under the direction of Fred Friendly. The new
series would appear infrequently during the coming year.
Murrow took his family for a brief vacation in EurOpe,
returned in a month, and spent his year Off at his farm
in Pawling, New York. Although he did not follow CBS'
programming during the 1959 season, he kept in close con-
tact with former colleagues in the news division. "They
are complaining about the commercialism, the paucity of

240

241

public affairs programs and documentaries," he noted in a
letter to a staff member at CBS, "and, from what I see
occasionally on TV, I can hardly blame them."1 Variety
magazine called the 1959 TV season "one of the worst we
have ever seen, with Special after special, COps and cow-
boys and, sadly, no Murrow."2 Out of one hundred and six
programs scheduled by all three networks during the season,
six were devoted to public affairs.3
The period of Murrow's absence from CBS was marked
by the growing influence of Frank Stanton as a top execu-
tive, and a decreasing emphasis placed upon public affairs
programming. Under Stanton's leadership, CBS was making
a concerted attempt to become the "number one network."
And to Frank Stanton being number one meant devising pro—
gram schedules heavily laden with situation comedies,
drama, and variety shows.4 "It isn't a good time for us,"
CBS correspondent Larry LeSeur wrote Murrow. "You should
be glad you're off at the farm."5
Murrow returned to CBS two months before the end
of his leave of absence was due to expire. He claimed he
was "too damn bored" to stay away from his job. He was
also interested in working "in some sort of capacity,“ for.
Friendly's "CBS Reports" unit.6 Despite his strained
relationship with Stanton, Murrow accepted an assignment
to interview India's Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru for

the CBS series, "Small World." The interview was edited

242

by CBS in New York and, much to Murrow's chagrin, "was
badly chOpped out . . . since they took out all of Nehru's
criticism of American policy, much of which was fasci-

7

nating." While he was in India, he suggested a "possible

stOp-Over, if it can be arranged, in Mainland China." The
network refused. Murrow flew home.8

Murrow continued to write and deliver commentaries
for network's evening radio news show. Once again, his
commentaries reflected his "personal interest" in the
politics of America as well as the "tense" international
situation. Throughout the summer of 1960, Murrow devoted
many of his commentaries to the upcoming Presidential
election year. He tried to present carefully structured
profiles Of the major candidates. When it became clear
that the race between John F. Kennedy and Richard M. Nixon
would be extremely close, Murrow devoted seven broadcasts
to the "media campaigns" of each candidate, including a
stinging critique of the debates between Kennedy and Nixon
on prime time TV ("the great debate that wasn't," he
stated on the air).9

Something was missing from Murrow's commentaries.
His radio work was losing much of its former documentary—
1ike precision, with its devotion to details and person-
alities. Although he ranged over a number of tOpics, he
was beginning to sound slightly oracular as he "began to

think aloud about the state of the nation and the world."10

243

"I know something is wrong," a scribbled journal entry
stated. "I can't quite figure out what; maybe too tired of

fighting battles with everyone."11

In part, Murrow's own
feelings of inadequacy were due to his deteriorating
health. He was constantly short of breath and tired, the
beginning signs of his lung cancer. At the same time,
Murrow was worried about his "less than wonderful" relation-
ship with the network. CBS was beginning to promote
younger correspondents--Walter Cronkite and Marvin Kalb were
now featured on most CBS news "specials"-—and Murrow
realized "it may be time to move over, since the Old days
are long dead and buried."12
By the fall of 1960, Murrow was seen infrequently
on television. He did "co-host" the 1960 Democratic Con-
vention along with Walter Cronkite, but felt distinctly
uncomfortable working with "all Of the other floor people
who, it seemed to me, didn't really get to the heart of
the news. We just reacted to people; no probing, no in-
depth stuff."l3
When David Lowe, a film producer and writer working
with "CBS Reports," approached Murrow and told him about
his work dealing with migrant laborers, Murrow immediately
agreed to help edit and, if need be, write part of the
script. The final film rushes were ready by late September.

"It's like the Old days," Murrow noted in a letter to his

brother, "for I am actually sitting here helping to put

244

together this fine documentary; Should make some folks

£"14 He worked himself to the

mad . . . damn well should
point of exhaustion on the film, "Harvest Of Shame."

Lowe wanted to air the documentary as soon as it was edited
in late October. Murrow suggested they wait until Thanks-
giving. "It will have more impact," he told Lowe, "and

the film will become a symbolic message, a universal kind

"15

of message. Three weeks before the program was finished,

Lowe asked Murrow to rewrite the conclusion, "to give it
more force."16
David Lowe had lived with migrant laborers for over
a year in preparation for "Harvest Of Shame." CBS was
fully aware of what Lowe was doing, but Stanton, for
example, assumed the program would deal more with "the
problems of American agriculture" than with the migrants'
problems. "We cannot afford advocacy journalism," Stanton
told Lowe, "for it simply raises too many troubles for us
in the end."17
Murrow's contributions to "Harvest of Shame"
included editing, writing of several lengthy parts Of the
script, and final responsibility for the program's con-
clusion. He knew his work on the program would probably
involve his last full-time participation on a CBS docu-
mentary. He was, therefore, interested in making "Harvest
of Shame" "something that stands for my own feelings about

"18

public affairs programming. When the program aired the

245

day after Thanksgiving, Murrow was applauded by the
critics and, as a staff member at CBS told him, "damned
by the network."19
"Harvest Of Shame" was Murrow's last documentary.
Its focus was on the tragedy of migratory labor as it
permeated the lives of thousands of people. During the
editing process, Murrow convinced Lowe of "the absolute
necessity" of concentrating on selected individuals:
migrants, farmers who employed them, public officials
caught up in the bureaucratic machine that paid little or
no attention to the migrants' problems. He was satisfied
as to the "relative balance" of the program. But he knew,
as he told Lowe the evening before airtime, "that 'Harvest
of Shame' takes a strong position, despite the fact several

points of View were presented."20

Fred Friendly noted
that: "The two sides to the migrants' problem could not
counterbalance each other, and no reporter could end such
a report without letting the viewer know how he felt."21
Murrow's conclusion ("They do not have the strength to
influence legislation. Maybe we do.") was a statement Of
the reporter's own views. At the same time, however, it
represented Murrow's strongly held feelings as to the
"real, the honest" purpose of the television documentary:
a vehicle for information that could, if prOperly labeled,

serve as a catalyst in a public debate.22

246

When CBS decided to cut back on "CBS Reports" by
moving it to a time slot out Of the prime time schedule,
Murrow and Friendly angrily approached Stanton about the
lack Of "dedication to public affairs at CBS." Friendly
suggested Murrow as a regular host-narrator for the series,
Stanton refused to commit himself to the idea, and Murrow
knew it was time to finally leave the network.23 He had
been approached by Robert Kennedy and asked if he would
consider a position in the new Kennedy Administration.
John Kennedy considered Murrow to be the logical choice
to head the United States Information Agency. Although
Murrow was upset about leaving journalism for government,
he was convinced he could rebuild the credibility of the
USIA. The offer was transmitted to Murrow two weeks after
Kennedy's election. Murrow accepted and Offered his
Official resignation to William Paley.

On January 31, 1961, Fred Friendly arranged a
farewell broadcast for Murrow to be delivered via closed
circuit TV to all CBS employees. It was an emotional
moment for both men. "We are losing the best pitcher,
outfielder, infielder in the business," Friendly stated
in his introduction. "Not only do I think Ed is the best
newsman in the business, but I think he's better than the
next three guys." Murrow appeared on the screen, his
voice barely under control. He talked about the difficulty

of leaving a job "I have held for 25 years,"

247

And I would think it's fair and honest to say that
some part of my heart will stay with CBS. I am
grateful to the CBS management for releasing me,
grateful to the affiliates who have carried what
we have done, although not always approving.
The CBS REPORTS audience is now about to be
increased by one4 and I wish you all good luck
and good night.2
When the broadcast was over, Larry LeSeur noticed "a
silence so complete, lasting for ten minutes. Then,
someone at the back of the newsroom yelled out: 'It's

the end of an era, and all of us have lost, dammit!”25

The lost era mourned by the anonymous CBS staff
member had its origins in the late 19305 world of radio
broadcasting. When Edward Roscoe Murrow began working as
a radio journalist, he, as well as many others at CBS, had
visionary hopes for the new medium. Although Murrow's own
career as a reporter began quite by accident during a
tense international crisis, he quickly began to understand
the unlimited possibilities for what he called "this new

kind Of journalism."26

He recognized what other journal-
ists working in radio seemed to forget: that radio journal-
ism could not, should not, try to mimic the style of print
reporting in order to become "a kind Of newspaper of the

- «27
air.

Instead, Murrow discovered radio allowed a
reporter the chance to reach the audience by orally
recreating the news. He once told Hans von Kaltenborn that

"for me it is simple, since I have someone read back my

248

copy to me, I close my eyes, and try to imagine whether
my words have taken me anywhere. It has to be a sensate
experience."28
Murrow came to journalism untrained in the formal
rules of newswriting. But he brought with him a belief in
the power of carefully delivered speech, an intense interest
in human nature, and an eye for detail. At the same time,
he realized that to write about events without reducing
them into understandable concepts, the meaning Of history
would be lost in a jumble of terms. "To say a war is
being waged on a ten mile front has meaning," he wrote to
Paul White during the Second World War, "only in a limited
sense,"
but to write that one soldier, at a given time and
place (all described) was lonely or brave or wounded,
well, this is the way I can best Show that history is
made up of living events. It is simplicity. In terms
of style, this reliance upon simplicity explains more
than most people in our business care to admit.
Sometimes we get caught up in the huge mural at the
expense of the smaller, more detailed photo. This
is only a personal theory . . . it's what I do,
though.29
Those journalists who worked with Murrow during
the late 19308 and throughout the war realized, as Paul
White stated in 1941, "that Ed Murrow literally feels the

30 It wasn't bravery or a

news as few others can, or will."
craving for public recognition which drive Murrow to watch
the bombing of London from various rooftops, but it was a

conviction of his that for events to be understood they

must be experienced as well as observed by the journalist.

249

He maneuvered the audience from one scene to another by
relying upon graphic descriptions, the only means he found
effective to assure the attention of the listener. "Lots
of us tried to imitate him," Larry LeSeur noted during the
war, "but there was something he had none of us could ever
replicate in our own work—-that sense of personal involve-
ment that said: 'I am here. I am watching. Understand
me.'"31

The freedom Murrow enjoyed as a young reporter
during the early years of radio journalism was due, in
large measure, to the undefined nature of the medium
itself. Men like William Paley and David Sarnoff knew
broadcasting was a proven vehicle for entertainment. They
understood how to program and advertise. But when it came
to news and public affairs, they were lost. At CBS, a
network its chief executive hoped would become "the most
important radio conglomerate in the nation," there was no
pressure to confine news personnel to a definite style.
Paley was anxious to increase his network's audience and,
as he discovered during the Austrian crisis of 1938, the
radio audience did listen to reporters like Murrow. "If
people listen to us, we have succeeded," Paley told Paul
White. "And I like everything that works!"32

Reinforced by his superiors at CBS, Murrow con-
tinued to provide the kind of coverage he felt the American'

audience wanted to receive. Throughout the war his style

250

rarely varied from the pattern he established for himself
during the formative years of radio journalism at CBS.

And because the war Offered to Murrow a chance to explore
human actions during periods of crisis, he found that his
style conformed to the subject under study. "People made
this war. They are fighting as individuals. I am telling
you about individuals," he told his audience in a 1940
broadcast, "because, to this reporter, nothing else seems

to matter at the moment."33

If the network occasionally
feared the impact of a controversial broadcast, it was
never mentioned to him. He had such a large audience for
his war reportage that his autonomy was virtually assured.
The war made broadcast journalism an accepted and
valued medium Of information. Murrow learned to refine
his style while working under tremendous pressure: he
simply was forced to write quickly and concisely while
still retaining those personal qualities he considered to
be his own contribution to broadcast reporting. He saw
no reason why the style he develOped should not be con-
tinued during the past-war years when, as he told William
Shirer, "our audience will still want to be transported
around the world via our work."34
But with the expansion of broadcasting as it
entered the television age, there were other considerations

he neglected to understand. The audience CBS informed

during the war listened to Murrow because he was on the

251

scene, and he brought to his reporting a feeling for an
audience far removed from London and Europe. To network
executives, anxious to retain and exploit an even larger
market, the war was a Special event: the audience had to
tune in. There was, as Frank Stanton wrote to Murrow, "no
other place to go." With the increased competition Offered
by other networks, CBS knew public affairs and news programs
would play a minor role in the overall scheme of things.
Entertainment was the magic key to the American market.
"We get our bucks by making folks happy," a station affili-
ates' meeting was told by a CBS executive in 1949, "not by
making them angry or upset."35
Murrow brought to his television work the same
kind of interest in details and singular human reaction
that he had emphasized during his radio years. The
Obvious difference he saw was the added dimension of a
visual experience for the viewer. "It's not that seeing
something I am describing takes away from the words," a
journal entry noted, "it just adds another emphatic proof
of what I write. So, I work just as hard on the visual,
as a film editor, as I did on the words as a writer."36
Looking back on his work, one can indeed see how Murrow
combined the best of both aural and visual technique: one
element underscoring the other, working together to accen-

tuate an event in order to bring the audience "even closer"

to the reporter's Observations in the field. He saw in

252

Senator McCarthy a kind of "demonic force," for example,
and knew that if others could see him as he actually
manipulated, persecuted, and lied to the public, the
senator's carefully wrought image would erode. "You have
to Show Americans some sort of proof before they will
decide anything," he told Frank Stanton. "But you have to
let them make up their own minds. I Show them, or try
to."37
"See It Now" was Murrow's way of contributing to
the audience a catalyst to begin, or enhance, public
debate about crucial issues and events. The series was
frowned upon by network executives because they considered
it "too controversial." To a large extent, the network's
perceptions Of controversial material were solely based
upon advertisers' responses. If a sponsor thought any one
Show would needlessly anger part "of the American market,"
tremendous pressure was exerted upon the network to modify
or change the content or focus of a program. Time after
time, Murrow tried to stave off these commercial intrusions.
Although his own prestige as a reporter managed to win
several battles with sponsors and executives like Stanton,
it was inevitable that Murrow could not always hOpe to
maintain the integrity of unimpeded and uncensored public
affairs programs. By 1958, Murrow saw the writing on the

wall: commercial television was simply too insecure to

253

support the kind of work he thought was important.
Edward R. Murrow did not like compromise in any form.

Despite the frustrations Murrow experienced during
the late 1950s at CBS, he produced and contributed to some
remarkable news programs. Some owed their character to
the nature of the issues they deal with: McCarthyism,
civil rights and school desegregation, science and
governmental secrecy. While others explored less explosive,
but in Murrow's Opinion still salient, topics: public
health, a poet's vision Of America, the vice—presidency.
Each added to the all-important debate Murrow saw as the
key element in a democratic society. He wanted to make
television into another version of Thomas Jefferson's
marketplace of ideas.

The bitterness of Murrow's 1958 Speech to his
fellow news broadcasters was the result of the industry's
failure to exploit the vast potential Of television.
"Because if they are right," he wrote of the men who con-
trolled the medium, "and this instrument is good for
nothing but to entertain, amuse and insulate, then the
tube is flickering now and we will soon see that the whole

struggle is lost."38

Murrow left CBS for the United States Information
Agency in 1961. Throughout the brief tenure of the

Kennedy administration, he helped to bring, as a USIA

254

staff member wrote at the time, "sense of purpose to an
agency that hitherto acted as little more than a blatant

"39 When Lyndon Johnson became President

propaganda machine.
in 1963, Murrow continued to serve despite his reservations
about defending American policies in Asia, especially the
growing American involvement in Vietnam. By early 1964
his health had badly deteriorated. A bout with pneumonia,
coupled with the painful lung clot spreading throughout
his respiratory system, forced him to resign from the
government. He knew he was dying.

Murrow spent the last year of his life at his
beloved farm in Pawling, New York. He kept in contact
with CBS colleagues, frequently calling Fred Friendly--
now President of CBS News--directly to complain about "lack
of incisive coverage and documentaries."40

On March 3, 1965, Edward Roscoe Murrow died. CBS
paid tribute to its former employee in a special one hour
television program. William Paley, Frank Stanton, corres-
pondents Murrow had worked with, all spoke in glowing terms
about his contributions to the development Of broadcast
journalism. William Paley noted his network's continuing
commitment to "the traditions established by Ed Murrow,"
and vowed to "the American public" a "well-staffed news

"41 As Paley spoke, James

division in the Murrow image.
Aubrey, the brash young executive Paley had hired to

replace Frank Stanton, was preparing to cut "CBS Reports"

255

out Of the prime time television schedule. He replaced
CBS' only documentary public affairs Show with an enter-
tainment program called "Mister Ed," a show Aubrey felt
was certain to get "excellent ratings." It was about a
talking horse.

Of all the eulogies devoted to Murrow's passing,
one that Murrow wrote marking the death of his one time
boss and teacher, Edward Klauber, best serves as a tribute
to Murrow himself:

He knew that just because injustice and indignity
and inhumanity was not happening to him-~he knew
that it was still happening. I do not know whether
he believed in the essential goodness or badness of
man. But I do know that he believed passionately
that the communication of information, unslanted,

untarnished and undistorted, was the only means by
which mankind would progress.

 

CHAPTER VI FOOTNOTES

1Letter from ERM to Palmer Williams, July 12, 1959,
Personal Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

2Variety, November 8, 1959, p. 26.

3Ibid.

4Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to Hubell

Robinson, August 23, 1958, Corporate Affairs File, Murrow
Papers.

5Letter from Larry LeSeur to ERM, September 5,
1959, Personal Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

6Letter from ERM to Larry LeSeur, November 12,
1959, Personal Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

7Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,
January 19, 1960, Program File P, Murrow Papers.

8Cable from Dr. Frank Stanton to ERM, January 16,
1960, Program File P, Murrow Papers.

9CBS broadcast, "CBS Evening Radio News,"
October 2, 1960, Commentary-Transcript File H, Murrow
Papers.

loIbid.

11ERM Daily Journal, November 1, 1960, Personal
Papers File G, Murrow Papers.

12Letter from ERM to Lacey Murrow, October 3, 1960,
Personal Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

256

257

13Memorandum from ERM to Fred W. Friendly,
September 12, 1960, Program File P, Murrow Papers.

14Letter from ERM to Lacey Murrow, September 15,
1960, Personal Correspondence File F, Murrow Papers.

15Memorandum from ERM to David Lowe, October 18,
1960, Program File P, Murrow Papers.

16Memorandum from David Lowe to ERM, November 5,
1960, Program File P, Murrow Papers.

17Memorandum from Dr. Frank Stanton to David Lowe,
November 1, 1960, Program File P, Murrow Papers.

l8ERM Daily Journal, November 27, 1960, Personal
Papers File G, Murrow Papers.

19Ibid.

20Ibid.

21Fred W. Friendly, Due to Circumstances Beyond
Our Control (New York: Random House, 1968), p. 122.

 

 

22ERM Daily Journal, November 30, 1960, Personal
Papers File G, Murrow Papers.

23Friendly, p. 124.

24CBS closed circuit broadcast, "Murrow Farewell
to CBS," January 31, 1961, Special Projects File B,
Murrow Papers.

25Letter from Larry LeSeur to ERM, n.d., Personal
Correspondence File H, Murrow Papers.

26Letter from ERM to Ida Lou Anderson,
January 25, 1939, Personal Correspondence File A,
Murrow Papers.

27Ibid.

258

28Letter from ERM to Hans von Kaltenborn,

September 30, 1938, Personal Correspondence File A,
Murrow Papers.

29Letter from ERM to Paul White, May 1, 1942,
Personal Correspondence File C, Murrow Papers.

30Letter from Paul White to Elmer Davis,
November 7, 1941, Personal Correspondence File B,
Murrow Papers.

31Letter from Larry LeSeur to Fred W. Friendly,

April 16, 1962, Special Correspondence File A, Murrow
Papers.

32Memorandum from William Paley to Paul White,
July 17, 1939, Special Correspondence File A, Murrow
Papers.

33CBS broadcast, "EurOpean News Roundup,"

March 13, 1940, Program File C, Murrow Papers.

34Letter from ERM to William L. Shirer,
September 17, 1945, Personal Correspondence File F,
Murrow Papers.

35"Report to CBS Station Affiliates, 1949 Season,"
p. 3, Corporate Affairs File C, Murrow Papers.

36ERM Daily Journal, October 12, 1952, Personal

Papers File B, Murrow Papers.

37Memorandum from ERM to Dr. Frank Stanton,
December 19, 1955, Program File H, Murrow Papers.

38ERM, "Speech to the Radio and Television News
Directors, 1958," October 15, 1958, Speeches—Awards
File A, Murrow Papers.

39Letter from Frank B. Angely to ERM, March 19,
1963, Special Correspondence File A, Murrow Papers.

40Letter from ERM to David Lowe, April 19, 1964,

Personal Correspondence File G, Murrow Papers.

259

41CBS broadcast, "A Tribute to Edward R. Murrow,"
April 29, 1965, TV Transcript File N, Murrow Papers.

42ERM, "Tribute to Edward Klauber," Speeches-Awards

File B, Murrow Papers.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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The Edward R. Murrow Papers, Edward R. Murrow Center of
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Although the arrangement of Murrow's papers is
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260

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