The Pittsburgh Press (April 5, 1941)
RAMBLING REPORTER
By Ernie Pyle
Ernie Pyle returned from London recently by Clipper. Following is one of several articles based on material he gathered while there.
One night in London I sat in with Ed Murrow on hsi late broadcast to America. You realize that when you listen to Murrow at 6:45 p.m. at home, it’s actually a quarter to 1 the next morning in London, and we’ve stayed up half the night for you. We hope you appreciate it.
The American Broadcasting room is one shared by CBS and NBC. It is in the basement of the BBC building, three floors down, and there are still basement levels below that.
Many of the BBC people live down there; the place is full of cots, and smells of cooking cabbage, and is very homey. The building has been bombed twice, and people have been killed in it, but it still stands.
The American broadcasting room is small, not more than 8 by 15. The walls are draped, to deaden the sound. A small table covered with green felt sits in the center. A microphone stands on the table, as though it were a table lamp.
Censor ready to cut broadcast
Before every broadcast there is a two-minute conversation period between the London and New York offices of CBS. They discuss plans for future broadcasts, and test the reception. It is all so casual you’d think they were talking to someone around the corner. You can’t hear bombs or guns down there in the basement.
Murrow wears earphones during this conversation. I sat across the table, and listened through other earphones. Ed kept watching the clock, a big one on the wall with a red second-hand. Finally the time arrived, and Ed started reading from his script.
Right behind him, along the wall, is a small table stacked with papers. The British censor sits there. He had read the script beforehand, and passed it. He listens through earphones throughout the broadcast. Should Murrow start to ad-lib something the censor didn’t like, he could cut him off instantly. But that never has happened.
There were only four of us in the room – Murrow, the censor, myself, and Arthur Mann, of Mutual, who just dropped in for sociability’s sake.
Many fan letters sent
There are three censors to take the 24-hour broadcasting shift. Before the war one was a bandleader and one a composer. And Roy Trouncer, who was our censor, used to be an antique dealer.
Murrow’s belief in the necessity of a British victory is almost devout. When he hears good news about the German side, he gets low and gloomy.
A great many fan letters are addressed to Murrow in New York. These are not forwarded to him. But every incoming mail from America brings several dozen letters directly from radio listeners. Murrow makes no attempt to answer them. It would take too much time, and anyhow he can’t think of anything to say.
Murrow’s opening line, “This is London,” is something that just happened. It didn’t have especial significance until the Blitz started and brought days when Americans wondered if there really still was a London.
It was then that Ed Murrow’s reassuring voice built those three words into a great nightly sense of relief for them.
Occasionally Murrow varies his broadcasting fare by turning over his time to some American newspaperman in London. Some of you may wonder why he didn’t seize the golden opportunity of putting such a masterful expositor as myself on the trans-Atlantic airwaves.
Well, the truth is, he did. He asked me if I wouldn’t make a whole broadcast for him some night. We were standing in front of his office fireplace at the time. The mere suggestion brought on such an extreme case of fright that I fell coldly upon the couch, and Murrow’s secretary, Miss Campbell, had to grab the stirrup pump and squirt water on me, as though I were an incendiary. Bombs, yes; microphone, no. That’s where I stand.