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A matter of conscience

Wednesday, 30 November 2005

When does the spoken word transcend the written? As I attend numerous author readings, sometimes the printed book is better than the reading and sometimes a good reader brings an added dimension to the writing. In Bob Edwards’ insightful biography Edward R. Murrow and the Birth of Broadcast Journalism ($19.95, John Wiley), you can hear Murrow’s distinct voice. For those who remember the eloquent broadcasts of Edward R. Murrow, his sign-off “Good night and good luck” was the hallmark of another era of broadcasting. Edwards perceptively captures that period. “You laid the dead of London at our doors and we knew that the dead were our dead,” commented Archibald MacLeish about Murrow’s wartime broadcasts. Murrow recognized the power of radio and transformed America’s reaction to Britain in the dark days of 1940. That’s how many remember him. He was the spirit of crusading journalism turning an entertainment medium at CBS into a news medium. Edwards, himself a noteworthy broadcaster, in this revealing book pays tribute to the man who created contemporary broadcast journalism and who fought the establishment when he saw radio and television heading down the path to trivialization and trash. Whether in programs like See It Now and his rebuttal of Senator Joe McCarthy or later in Person to Person he displayed the courage needed to preserve basic freedoms when these were challenged. This timely reminder shows how quality news reporting can triumph over political scare tactics and spin, offering much to think about in our own times. His highly readable account gives an engaging picture of the key events and people who would shape television news well into the 1980s, and how many got their start with Murrow. It’s a thoughtful look at the process by which broadcast news grew from empty entertainment to becoming a window on the world, but it also deals with some of the disappointment Murrow faced at the end of his career. If Edwards’ respect for Murrow is evident – at times he gushes – he is not afraid to point out when Murrow may have erred in judgment, such as his dealings with Frank Stanton. I endorse Bill Moyers’ comment about the book, “Get it, read it, and pass it on.” The book is excellent preparation for George Clooney’s movie, Good Night, and Good Luck, which I highly recommend. In Clooney’s film the clever use of 1950s jazz, the smoke-filled bars of those news reporting days and the intensity of live broadcast TV jump off the screen, made more authentic in black and white. One scene stands out when the Murrow team realize that Ed had signed the oath of allegiance during the McCarthy period. They thought as “a matter of conscience” he would oppose it. Edwards explains that Murrow felt he had to choose his battles and could do more from the inside, which proved true. On Murrow’s death, April 25, 1965, his old friend Eric Sevareid eulogized that “he was a shooting star and we shall not see his like again.” He had raised the standards of investigative reporting from war zones to congressional committee rooms, bringing serious issues up for public discussion. This was another world, a bygone age before the Internet and bloggers. Murrow’s noble ideals may not fit into current broadcast news where ratings are more decisive, but his mission for journalism to inform, educate and enlighten still stands as inspiration for today’s journalists. Peter Robinson, president of the San Francisco Literary Society, contributes to Book Talk on KALW-FM. For details of his travel writing workshops write to This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it

Last Updated ( Saturday, 15 December 2007 )