 Radio's own show, Behind the Mic. This afternoon, Behind the Mic pays tribute to a great news organization, The Associated Press, whose news coverage, along with that of the other news associations, and of the listening posts of the various broadcasting companies, makes it possible for radio listeners and newspaper readers to know what is going on throughout the world. Since its very formation, the men who reported the news for this great organization have been interwoven into the history of America and later of the world itself. It is this history, the history that The Associated Press has recorded. We bring you this afternoon. The dramatizations are based on the book AP, The Story of News, by Oliver Gramling, Assistant General Manager of Press Association Incorporated, a subsidiary of The Associated Press. And now presenting Gilbert Martin, pinch-hitting for Graham McNamee. Thank you, Bob Stanton, and good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Ten men representing the sixth most important New York newspaper sat around a table in the office of the sun one day early in May, 1848. They had been in session for more than an hour and all that time in stubborn argument. They were the autocrats of the city's newspaper world and one room never before had been big enough to hold them. David Hale of the Journal of Commerce was speaking. Gentlemen, as I have said, Mr. Bennett and I have asked you to form an association with us. Each contributing his share to a general fund which could be used in a concerted effort to provide readers with wider coverage of all important world events. Now if we pull our resources, we will all get more news and more accurate news than we could singly. Mr. Bennett and I, having pulled the news of our two papers, The Journal of Commerce and The Herald are already getting wider coverage than you gentlemen singly. You've set up an organization so costly you want to bamboozle us into paying the bill. That's the real story behind it. I've said that before, Mr. Webb, but it isn't true. There's only one telegraph wire to supply all of us. Our papers have to take 15-minute turns on the facilities and all but the first in line are out of luck. Now look, how much better would it be if we were all members of one association and received this news all at the same time? Then there wouldn't be this constant backstabbing to get the news a few minutes ahead of the other man. But gentlemen, I have an even more important reason for urging you all to pull your resources. What is it, Mr. Hale? Well, Mr. Grayley, it's this. Some of the telegraph companies are toying with the idea of setting up regular subsidiary organizations of their own to cover and transmit the news for sale. Now, with no government supervision, these companies could make it impossible for any news about their own to move on their wires. Why, they'll simply refuse to carry on you. Yes, but if we pull our resources, we can offer such attractive prices to the telegraph companies they will find it unprofitable to set up their own news gathering agencies. Now, look, gentlemen, what are we going to do? I'm for it. Well, Mr. Hale? Yes? I think we have decided. We're with you. Good. What shall we call our organization? Well, gentlemen, how about the Associated Press? And from this meeting of rival newspaper owners who had been at sorts point was to grow the great news gathering organization that was to fairly blanket the earth, whose news sets presses roaring. The 1848 presidential election was one of the first major assignments undertaken by the Associated Press. Public interest centered on the Whig National Convention in Philadelphia, where four men were in the running for the party's nomination. General Zachary Taylor, General Winfield Scott, Henry Clay, and Judge McLean. The New York terminus of the telegraph line was still in Jersey City. The problem of bridging the wide river baffled the wire company, and Dr. Alexander Jones of the Associated Press intended to get the convention news across the Hudson from Jersey to New York as fast as possible. Now, look here, Johnny. I'm going to be in Jersey City. I'll get the convention news by telegraph from Philadelphia. Now, you go down to the pier. You mean near the Cortland Street ferry, sir? That's the one. And what's the New Jersey side? Right. Now, I have a flagpole set up. If I run up a white flag, that means General Taylor was nominated. Taylor, yeah. A red flag means Clay. If you see two white flags on the same staff, that means General Scott. Scott? And if two red flags, Judge McLean. McLean, yeah, I got it. As soon as you see the signal, I want you to race off to the office so that the New York members of our association can be notified. You understand? Yes, sir, sure. Now, remember, a white flag, General Taylor, a red flag means General Clay. 40 minutes after Jones had crossed the river. A white flag! It's General Taylor! General Taylor! General Taylor! While over in Jersey City, Dr. Jones still waited patiently. Does that seem to be taking their time making that nomination? Well, they're still arguing. Probably won't get to it until tomorrow morning. The signal the boy had seen was the white flag of a broker's representative in New Jersey, wig wagging the latest stock quotation to a lookout in New York. But fortunately for the Associated Press, General Taylor was nominated the next day. Early in 1861, a sad-faced man stood on a train platform at Springfield, Illinois. He looked down at the faces of a group of friends gathered to bid him good-bye as he left for Washington. Among those in that small group was Henry Villard, Associated Press correspondent. As the train pulled out, Villard, who was traveling on it, approached the sad-faced man and his private coach. Mr. President. Yes, Mr. Villard? I'm sorry to say, sir, but the speech you just made caught me completely unprepared. I was unable to take down more than a few words of it. Almost anything you say now, sir, is of special interest to the nation at large, and I know that the people of this country would like to know what you said. That's very easily fixed. Have you a patent pencil? Yes, Mr. Lincoln. Here you are, sir. Thank you. I'll write down what I said for you. My friends, no one, not in my position, can appreciate the sadness I feel at this party. To this people, I owe all that I am. Here I have lived more than a quarter of a century. Here, my children were born, and one of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall see you again. And so the address by which Lincoln bad farewell to Springfield was preserved for posterity through the actions of an Associated Press correspondent. 1876 in Bismarck, North Dakota, on May 14th, there was a small gathering in the home of the town's preacher, John P. Dunn. The occasion was a farewell dinner for the quiet middle-aged man who had become a close friend of the family. In the three years he had been reporter for the weekly Bismarck Tribune. His name was Mark Kellogg. He was about to set out on an assignment delegated to him by his employer, a part-time correspondent for the Western Associated Press who was too ill to make the trip for himself. Well, Mark, you'll be leaving us a little while. Yes, but it won't be for long. Soon as it's all over, I'll be back again. Where do you go from here, Mark? Well, Mrs. Dunn, at three o'clock I'll take the ferry across the Missouri and join the troops at Old Fort Lincoln. Oh, the children are going to miss you. Well, I'm going to miss them, too. Well, you folks have been just about all the family I've had since my wife died. You're not going heavily burdened, are you, Mark? No, I've just this little black satchel and tobacco, pipes, pieces of light clothing, pencils and a supply of light paper, of course, to write my account of the affair. The council will be relayed by pony across the plains to the nearest newspaper and telegraph offices. Oh, how do you intend to travel with the expedition? They've assigned me a gray mule. Oh, just think. With long legs, I'll probably be riding the mule and walking at the same time. Well, oh, I'll have to go now. Well, goodbye, Mark. Goodbye, as the French say, au revoir. There they are in the valley. Well, Kellogg, this is the story you've come for. Yes, General. We'll clean them out in no time. Trooper! Yes, sir. Return to Captain Smith and instruct him to move up immediately with the ammunition packs. Yes, sir. All right, men. There they are. We'll scatter them like a nest of ants. This will be worth seeing, Kellogg. It certainly will, General Custer. All right, men. Charge! And among the 225 bodies dotting the field of the little big horn, silent in the hot sun near the body of General Custer, they found the crumpled body of the correspondent who had prodded gallantly to death on the small gray mule. In 1907, Sam Davis, an avada correspondent of the Associated Press, interviewed Sarah Bernhardt for the Carson Appeal, his own paper, for the San Francisco Examiner, which he also represented, and for the Associated Press. The actress liked him so much that when her train was ready to leave, she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him on each cheek, and then squarely on the mouth. She said, Mr. Davis, the right cheek for the Carson Appeal. So, he left for the examiner, and zilips, my friend, for yourself. Well, Madam Bernhardt, I also represent the Associated Press, which serves 380 papers west of the Mississippi River alone. It was October 1917, and there was fighting in Mexico between Pancho Villa and President Carranza, with Villa anxious to impress the United States by defeating the president. Early in October, Norman Walker, Associated Press correspondent, reached his camp. Villa had known the reporter during several years of assignment south of the Rio Grande. And so, Mr. Walker, I'm going to take you into my confidence. Yes, Pancho. I want to show your country who is master in Mexico. Now, the best way to do this is by victories, is that so? Quite right. Well, the town of Ojinaga is held by the Carrancista forces. I'm going to attack the town and take it. In this way, I will show the United States who is master of Mexico. Now, as a newspaper man, I want to ask you, is this the right time to make that attack? Well, Pancho, if you're looking for publicity, I can't think of a worse time to take that town. No? For why? Because right now, the World Series is starting. You know how popular baseball is with us Americans. And what front-page space isn't given to the European War, will be given to the World Series. Now, if you wait until the World Series is over, you might make the front pages. The awaited and when he finally took Ojinaga, he did make the front pages. November 7th, 1918, New York went mad. The man who looked out from 51 Chambers Street, New York headquarters of the Associated Press, wore worried expressions. A dumbfounded editor had torn across the newsroom with the message which told the story. Inarticulately, he thrust it into the hands of Jackson Elliott, chief of the news department. Now, what's this? Other press associations flashing Armistice sign. Here's another one, Jackson. Opposition has Armistice. Good Lord, the Associated Press beaten on the biggest story of the war. Get cables after London and Paris. Full raid. Open up a line to the State Department. I'll talk to Frank Polk. And bring me a map. Here's some messages. Just came in from the member papers. Now, let me see. Why doesn't the Associated Press have the Armistice? And look at this one. The Associated Press is pro-German, of the Armistice. We've been beaten here, resigning our membership as soon as possible. Telephone for you, Jackson. Yeah, I'll take it. Yes, yes, I know. But we've no news that the Armistice has been signed. I'm in a broader role on the job. The State Department has made no such announcement. No, no, it hasn't. When the Associated Press gets the news, we'll carry it and not before. Ah, let me look at that map. The opposition flash states that the Armistice has been signed at 11 a.m. Mr. Romer, what do you got? At 12.30 this morning, the German High Command wireless marshal Fosch the names of its emissaries and requested that he designate a point along the front where they'd be permitted to enter the allied lines. I see. Fosch's reply, sent at 1.25 a.m., says that the party would be permitted to pass at the French outpost near the Chamet-Four-Milles-La-Chapelle-Guisse road. Go on. For at least three hours longer, the German emissaries have known to have been still at German General Headquarters at Spa, Belgium. The advance is smashing through on check. Yeah, let me see. See now, the airline distance between Spa and Fosch's headquarters is roughly about 105 miles as the crow flies. By road, it's probably about 150 miles. Speedy automobile chip is impossible. Those roads have been too badly shelved. Gentlemen, it can't be done. The Germans could not have reached Fosch's headquarters in time to sign an Armistice at 11 a.m. Meanwhile, the crowds in the street learning that the Associated Press had not carried news of the Armistice became angry. Yes, we got under Secretary of State Polk on the wire for you. Hello, Mr. Polk. Now look about this Armistice. Yes. Yes, yes, I see. All right, thank you. I'll put this on the wire. Washington, November 7th was officially announced at the State Department at 2.15 o'clock this afternoon that the Germans had not signed Armistice terms. But four days later on November the 11th, 1918 in the office of the Tribune Herald at Rome, Georgia, a member of the Associated Press, J.D. McCarney, set up a telephone answering the endless queries. Yes, ma'am, it's right this time. Who is that? State Department in Washington. In 1937, Spain was in the throes of a ghastly civil war. Among the reporters describing the conflict was Edward J. Neal, Jr. of the Associated Press who had also helped cover the war in Ethiopia. At first, the Franco headquarters lifted the ban on correspondence at the front which had been in effect for several days. And Neal and several colleagues, including Richard Sheepshanks of the Reuters Agency and H.A.R. Philby of the London Times started out from the base at Zaragoza towards the besieged town of Teruel. At noon, the press cars turned off the shell-pocked main road and jolted towards the next little hamlet, Calde. Say, Ed, I wonder where we are? I don't know. Just keep going until we stop. Who are you? We're newspaper men. Here are our passes. Let me see. Yeah. Oh, yes. Well, you cannot go any further forward. It's too dangerous. Yeah, but look, we've got to go forward. Look, officer, can't you see? I am very sorry. You're too near the fighting zone now. I fear someone has blundered in allowing you to come so far. It's very dangerous here. Well, can't go on. We can't go on. That is very wise, gentlemen. I hope to see you later. Say, Ed, you got a light? Oh, yeah. Here you are. Thanks. You fellas want some chocolate? Hello, fellas. Oh, hello. Hello, Johnson. Got any more material for your magazine articles? No, but I got some fine photographs. Mind if I get in the car with you guys and chew the fat a while? No, no, come right in. Just got back from photographing the heavy artillery. Got some grand pictures. Lucky stuff. Well, boys, how about... Oh! Good heavens. Captain. What happened? The shell exploded right in front of our car. They're in there. They're in there. Captain's bringing them here. They're in there. Got it. Get them out of there. Come on. Where? This one is dead. This one is badly wounded. His temple is torn open. Oh, that sheep shanks are the times. How about Neil, that one? Well, he looks very bad. Left leg is pretty badly torn. Let's get him out of here. And then we'll get him up in the front. Careful. Easy. Good work, boys. Sorry I'm so heavy. All right. Keep an eye on my typewriter, will you, Filby? Who's... Who's that on the ground? It's Brandis Johnson. We'll get you to the base hospital at Zaragoza. Well, I... I guess a war is over for me. Not bad for a man who had 34 shell fragments taken out of him. Well, you know what? I filed your story to New York. Well, swell, thanks. Too, uh, too bad about Dick, isn't it? Oh, you, uh, you heard that sheep shanks died. Yeah, I heard. The variant poor Dick, Tamara, and I'm afraid I can't go to the funeral. Oh, tell my office I'm going to Paris as soon as I can. I'll soon be all right again. All right, Ed. Don't say the nurse is giving us the bye-bye sign. I'll have to go. Well, so long till Tamara. Cheerio. I wish I could go to the nearest cafe with you and have a big cold beer. Blood transfusions seem to help Neil, but by the next morning, Gann Green developed. He died late that night. In New York, after making special financial arrangements for Mrs. Neil and setting up an annuity fund for the support of his son and his education through college, the board of directors adopted this resolution. The board of directors of the Associated Press as representatives of the entire membership This means enter into the permanent records of the institution, this memorial to Edward J. Neil, Jr., gallant reporter who died in the Associated Press Service at Zaragoza, Spain, as a result of wounds he suffered while reporting the encounter on the terriwell front. If democratic institutions are to prevail, as we all believe they will, the public must be fully informed as to what is happening in the world. We recognize that the good reporter is the keystone of our journalistic edifice. Believing this, we also believe that Edward J. Neil's death was not in vain. He undertook a perilous assignment at our behest, and he carried it out gloriously. As chroniclers of the day's events, we are proud to pay tribute to his memory. They buried Neil in his native Massachusetts on January 21 with flowers from all over the world heaped high over his grave, and in the snow and zero cold of the terriwell front, another staff man, White L. Pitkin, took up the assignment, Neil had begun. And today, Associated Press correspondents throughout the world are covering the news, getting their stories out sometimes under the most heroic circumstances, so that you who read your newspapers and listen to the radio may know the truth. And now, we are privileged to have as a guest the general manager of the Associated Press, Kent Cooper. Mr. Kent Cooper. Mr. Cooper, we've traced the history of the Associated Press almost up to the present time, but there are a number of questions about your organization, as it is today that I'm sure our listeners would like you to answer. For example, I'm sure they'd be interested in finding out how many member papers the Associated Press now has and how many correspondents you employ. In Boston, the Associated Press has about 1,400 member newspapers in the Americas, and throughout the world, it served directly or indirectly three times that many. I should say there are about 7,500 full and part-time Associated Press correspondents in the United States and Canada. And how does one become a foreign correspondent for the Associated Press? They are selected from the hundreds of trained newspaper men working in Associated Press bureaus throughout the United States. They are chosen not only because they asked for such service, but because their education and experience qualify them. Some of these men have specialized in the history and politics of the various countries. Some of them know foreign languages before they go abroad, while others learn the language of the country on the spot. Good character and professional competence are more important than any other qualification, but, of course, a genuine knowledge of languages is essential to any foreign correspondent. Well, that's mighty interesting. And how does a foreign correspondent become a war correspondent? Simply by being on or near the spot when the war starts. War, Mr. Martin, is a new story like any other. That's right. Have you many more war correspondents covering the Soviet-German conflict? Well, yes, dozens of them. And tell us how do you get your news from the war fronts to America? It must be very difficult. News always is a problem. And, of course, it's constantly a cute one in war because conditions change frequently. News from the front is sent to bureaus in various capitals by telegraph or telephone. Then Moscow, Helsinki, Stockholm, and other bureaus send dispatches by wireless to New York. News sent from Berlin is telephoned to Bern, Switzerland, for relay by wireless to New York and is sent directly by wireless from Berlin to New York. Well, one last question, Mr. Cooper. What has been the latest development in aiding Associated Press news coverage? Wire Photo. The Associated Press news photo service in which pictures are delivered to members throughout the United States by wire just as news stories are. Many regard Wire Photo as the outstanding journalistic development of recent years. Whatever comes, AP member newspapers intend to continue to utilize every means at their disposal to see that the Associated Press does its job to report in word and picture discerningly and without bias the news of the entire world. Thank you very much, Kent Cooper. And now we take you to the NBC newsroom. From the Associated Press, Germany claims sweeping successes in the war against Russia. The Nazi high command says that over 4,000 Soviet planes were destroyed and more than 2,200 Russian tanks were captured in the first week of fighting. During that time, the German high command says it trapped two Soviet armies and plunged through into Russia to the region around Minsk at the end of the motor highway leading to Moscow. But Russia tells another story. Moscow says that the German tanks charging toward the cities of Minsk and look have been stopped by the Red Army and that Soviet troops are meeting large contingents of German motorized infantry in fierce hand-to-hand combat. The Soviet Information Bureau claims that the German invaders have suffered many casualties. Meantime, the major battle continues to pivot around the central salient on the 1,000-mile Russian-German front. The London radio says that a British economic mission conferred today in Moscow with the Soviet Commissar for foreign trade. And there's a sharp criticism in London of the German claims of success against the Soviet Army. London says that the Nazi statement regarding the destruction of more than 4,000 Soviet planes cannot be taken seriously and the British go on to accuse the German high command of other inaccuracies in their reporting of German progress against the Soviet. Just a few moments ago, the NBC short-wave listening post picked up a German language broadcast from Moscow radio saying that the battles are going on in Romania on the southern side of the Danube. And this report would indicate that the Russians have crossed the Danube into Romania and have taken the offensive on that front. Germany's Axis partner, Italy, warns against expecting a lightning victory over Russia. The authoritative fascist editor, Virginia Gaida, says that Russia is resisting not only with a mass of arms but with the factor of distance. And Gaida brings up the similarity between the Russian position in this war to Russia's position during the Napoleonic campaign and during the World War. In the Near East, Cairo reports a fierce battle in the air in which American-built planes flown by the Dutch and the French defenders of Syria were beating off British-built fighters. The engagement took place over central Syria. In another air fight, a squadron of American Curtis Tomahawks in the Australian Air Force is credited with shooting down six Glenn Martin bombers by the French. This news from the Associated Press came to you from the NBC Newsroom in New York. For further details, see your local newspaper. The dramatizations this afternoon were based on the book A.P. The Story of News by Oliver Gramling, which will be dramatized and brought to the New York stage by producer Oscar Sirlan, producer of Life with Father. Next week, behind the mic, we'll present one of its most interesting human-infra-stories in relating how a daytime radio serial is conceived. You will learn how a radio columnist gets the material he writes. We'll salute a program you love with Jane Froman, and we'll bring you more of the glamour, the tragedy, and the comedy that are Behind the Mic. This is Gilbert Martin saying, Good afternoon, everyone. Behind the Mic is written by Mort Lewis, music composed by Ernie Watson, conducted by Jimmy Lightell, the national broadcasting company.