Herbert Morrison (journalist)

Herbert "Herb" Morrison (May 14, 1905 – January 10, 1989) was an American journalist who reported on the Hindenburg disaster. His dramatic reaction to the airship's fiery collapse, later broadcast by NBC, has since become a lasting symbol of the tragedy and is regarded as one of the most famous radio broadcasts in history.

Herbert Morrison
Morrison in the 1930s
Born	(1905-05-14)May 14, 1905 Scottdale, Pennsylvania, U.S.
Died	January 10, 1989(1989-01-10) (aged 83) Morgantown, West Virginia, U.S.
Occupation	Radio and television journalist
Known for	His radio broadcast of the Hindenburg disaster

Hailing from Pennsylvania, Morrison joined the WLS radio station around the 1930s. When the Hindenburg, a prominent airship, was set to conclude its maiden U.S. trip of 1937 in Lakehurst, he was sent there to report on its planned landing. He brought with him experimental recording equipment. As the airship neared the landing ground, it burst in flames, and Morrison's report turned deeply emotional. He hyperventilated and choked up, crying out, "Oh, the humanity" out of grief for the lives lost.

Morrison's report first aired on WLS, and parts of it later featured on NBC. Never before had NBC broadcast a recording: an exception was made for Morrison's owing to its raw, passionate recounting of the event. It was eventually heard by millions around the world. The broadcast is partially credited with increasing awareness of—indeed, popularizing—the Hindenburg disaster to an extent not attained by other contemporary calamities. Noting Morrison's efforts, historian Anna Accettola recognizes the disaster as a "poignant moment" in the "evolution of media reporting."^[1]

Morrison's work as a journalist continued for several decades. His broadcast influenced the production of Orson Welles' radio drama "The War of the Worlds" and the 1975 film The Hindenburg.

Early life

Little is known about Morrison's early life. A native of Scottdale, Pennsylvania,^[2] he was born on May 14, 1905.^[a] He graduated from high school in 1923. His career in journalism began in Fairmont, and he later became a radio reporter for Pittsburgh stations.^[4]

Hindenburg disaster

Further information: Hindenburg disaster

Background

In May 1937, the Hindenburg was set to fly from Frankfurt to Lakehurst.^[5] Commissioned the year prior in Nazi Germany, it became the largest aircraft ever built at the time of completion,^[6] and it was to be flagship dirigible.^[4] The Lakehurst flight—its 63rd one^[7]—would mark the commencement of the airship's 1937 season in the United States^[8] as well as the one-year anniversary of the transatlantic service's opening,^[9] hencewhy it was deemed newsworthy.^[10]

Morrison was then a 31-year-old reporter for Chicago's WLS station,^[2] an NBC affiliate.^[11] He had been a journalist for six years.^[12] After being approached by American Airlines, he flew to Lakehurst to report on the Hindenburg landing.^[13] He had petitioned WLS for permission to bring novel recording apparatus to test during the report, which went against contemporary media practice, but WLS accepted nonetheless.^[14] Morrison would be the only broadcaster present at Lakehurst to cover the Hindenburg's landing.^[15] He was joined by WLS sound engineer Charles Nehlsen.^[16] Upon arriving, the two settled in a shack on the edge of the landing field.^[17]

Morrison's commentary

On May 6, the Hindenburg was nearing Lakehurst.^[18] Morrison began recording;^[19] his equipment consisted of a Presto Direct Disc transcription recorder^[20] along with an amplifier and a heavy-duty lathe.^[8] His plan was to comment on the landing, then edit the broadcast and play it back on a Saturday WLS radio program.^[21] While on its way to Lakehurst, poor weather conditions airship delayed the airship's arrival by several hours.^[22] Morrison's report began professionally:^[9]

It's starting to rain again—the rain had slacked up a little bit. The back motors of the ship are just holding it just enough to keep it from...^[23]

At 7:21 pm, it started preparing to land. Four minutes later, the Hindenburg caught fire, and it sank to the landing ground engulfed in flames.^[24] It disintegrated within less than a minute.^[25] 35 of the 97 people aboard and one person on the ground died.^[26] As he witnessed the disaster unfold, Morrison's tone immediately changed:^[9]

The Hindenburg goes down in flames on May 6, 1937

It burst into flames! Get this Charlie!^[b] Get this Charlie! It's burning and it's crashing! It's crashing terrible! Oh my, get out of the way, please! It's burning and bursting into flames and it's—and it's falling on the mooring mast, and all the folks agree that this is terrible, this is one of the worst catastrophes in the world! And oh, it's... the flames, climbing, oh, four or five hundred feet into the sky, and… It's a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen. The smoke and it's flames now, and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast. Oh, the humanity and all the passengers screaming around here. I told you. It's—I can't even talk to people whose friends were on there. It—It's... ah! I—I can't talk, ladies and gentlemen. Honest, it's just laying there, a mass of smoking wreckage, Ah! And everybody can't hardly breathe and talk, and the screaming… Lady, I—I—I'm sorry. Honestly, I—I can hardly breathe. I—I'm gonna step inside where I cannot see it… Charlie, that's terrible. I—I can't... I, listen folks, I—I'm gonna have to stop for a minute because I've lost my voice, this is the worst thing I've ever witnessed.^[23]

Morrison lost his composure;^[4] he hyperventilated, choked up, and momentarily lost his voice^[20] as his professional commentary gave way to an emotional outpour.^[27] However, he quickly recovered and went on to report on the disaster for 37 minutes over the next two hours.^[8] He interviewed witnesses and survivors of the Hindenburg's collapse^[28] and even identified some of them by name.^[8] Dan Grossman of Airships.net remarks that "while early news reports of air crashes are infamous for their inaccuracy even today, Morrison accurately described the facts that were known."^[8] He notes that Morrison deduced the explosion to static electricity owing to the stormy weather that day,^[8] which scholars now recognize as the likeliest cause of the disaster,^[28] although it is still not fully understood.^[29][c] After the disaster, popular airship travel died out.^[26]

Morrison's full report was recorded on four acetate disks.^[33] When he and Nehlsen finished their work, Nazi officials started following them^[34] in hopes of retrieving the disks to prevent the report from airing, fearing that it would tarnish the regime's image.^[10] They managed to escape and fly back to Chicago safely.^[35] The next day, May 7, Morrison's commentary aired on WLS, and an excerpt was later broadcast on NBC Red;^[36] it was never heard live.^[37] This was the first time a recording was broadcast on NBC.^[36] At the time, events were mostly either covered live or by telephone,^[14] and NBC had prohibited airing recordings in favor of live reports, which were deemed more authentic and reliable.^[36] However, they made an exception for Morrison's because, as Michael McCarthy explains, the Hindenburg report was an "exclusive, red-hot eyewitness account of the calamity" like no other.^[20] In fact, his broadcast of the disaster was the only one.^[11] Still, NBC's practice was upheld until World War II.^[36]

Aftermath and legacy

The report was eventually distributed worldwide^[38] and heard by millions.^[39] His dramatic, emotional reaction to the Hindenburg's collapse^[40]—his agony palpable^[37]—garnered the most attention^[8] and is noted to have struck a chord with listeners.^[41] In McCarthy's words, "The public had never heard such a raw, shocking account of an eyewitness plunged in a blink of an eye into an unfolding catastrophe. It was spellbinding. Herb poured out his pain, at times breathless, into our hearts."^[20] He additionally suggests that Morrison's reaction is the first viral audio.^[20] "Oh, the humanity," a phrase Morrison uttered out of sorrow for the disaster's victims,^[9] is now deemed a cultural and popular symbol,^[42] so much so that Anna Accettola argues that it is nowadays used as a generic expression of horror.^[1] He later recalled having exclaimed those words under the assumption that everyone aboard the Hindenburg had died,^[9] when in fact 62 people survived.^[5]

A clip of Morrison's report on the Hindenburg disaster paired with footage of the airship's collapse and disintegration

Since then, the report has become one of the most famous radio broadcasts.^[43] Beyond its fame, Morrison's broadcast shaped public sentiment regarding dirigible travel. As notes Carl Jablonski, the Hindenburg disaster was one of the first to be documented just as it happened,^[44] with cameras and recording appartus present on-site to capture it in real time.^[45] This was not the case with many previous disasters,^[46] such as the deadlier crash of the USS Akron.^[5] While these calamities, of which no footage or recording exist, remained largely unwitnessed,^[46] the Hindenburg's became a "global media phenomenon"^[46] and "one of the biggest news stories of the 20th century."^[37] It was so widely publicized that the Morrison broadcast's resonance with the public itself may have sealed the fate of airship travel.^[1][d]

In fact, Morrison's report has been described as "the public’s most enduring memory of the crash";^[8] some journalists note that it has now become synonymous with the calamity.^[47] Years later, footage of the Hindenburg disaster were paired together with the recording.^[48] His emotional delivery inspired one actor in Orson Welles' radio drama "The War of the Worlds", who studied the recording to craft a hysterical reaction to witnessing a ghastly event.^[20]

Morrison's voice is a subject of note to commentators. Many experts argue that the recording disks ran too slow, causing the broadcast to run abnormally quickly when played back^[49]—according to audio historian Michael Biel, by a minimum factor of three percent.^[33] Thus, his voice is made to sound high-pitched, when it was actually deep and mellow.^[50]

Later life

Morrison's media career continued for several decades. He left WPS in 1939 to join MBS.^[34] Years after his Hindenburg report, he became the first news director at WTAE-TV, based in Pittsburgh.^[2] Morrison later became a freelance journalist.^[12] After developing a radio and television section at West Virginia University, he retired from his trade.^[51]

A pilot and aviation enthusiast,^[8] Morrison served in the Army Air Forces during World War II.^[2] He also ran for Congress thrice in the 1950s from Pennsylvania as a Republican.^[14] In 1975, Universal Studios sent him across the U.S. to promote the film Hindenburg,^[4] which featured an excerpt of his broadcast.^[10]

In old age, he lived with his wife, Mary Jane, in Morgantown, West Virginia.^[12] A chronic illness eventually led him to be admitted to a Morgantown nursing home.^[4] He died there on January 10, 1989, at age 83.^[52]