"Good Night, and Good Luck" were words made famous by radio news pioneer Edward R. Murrow as he closed-out his evening broadcasts from London during the terrible early days of the Second World War. But, there was no "luck" involved in Murrow's work. He was consciously and deliberately part of a team that were "serious people at a serious job", and along the way they changed the definition of their profession, the company that they were a part of, and the way their craft was practiced.
In doing all of this, they also created a rising generation of individuals who grew up to lead their industry into an entirely new future [television]. "They" were Edward R. Murrow's team of radio news reporters who "invented broadcast journalism" as the war swept across Europe, or Murrow's Boys as they have been popularly referred to ever-since, and they were: young, brash, incredibly talented and allowed to exhibit their talent in the pursuit of their job. Their story illustrates the innovative power of teams, of allowing bright young people to fulfill their talent, and of the importance of the role of the visionary leader.
The recent passing of Richard C. Hottelet, the last surviving member of the "boys", offers us the opportunity to pause and reflect on the unprecedented success of this team, and the innovation lessons that their story holds for all of us. Edward R. Murrow had been sent to Europe by CBS (the Columbia Broadcasting System) in the late-1930s, after their bigger and more established rival NBC [the National Broadcasting Company] had already stunned American listeners with the BBC’s Alastair Cooke reporting with authority and drama over transatlantic telephone lines on Edward VIII’s abdication as King.
Despite having never written a news story, nor made a radio broadcast before, the 29 year old Murrow was smart enough to soon recognize that the rise of the Nazi Third Reich offered a drama that was larger, more significant and more frightening than anything Radio had yet encountered. He also realized that reporting on the unfolding story that was to become World War II would require more mobile and better informed reporters than had ever been deployed before, and over a much larger piece of geography. Murrow wanted to build a team that was on the move, always being at the heart of the action, smart enough to be able to interpret the larger story in a way that was readily grasped by the listening public and being dependable for getting the word out to the waiting world, no matter what the technical or political difficulties they faced.
“These things must be experienced to be understood,” Murrow broadcast in September 1940, from the same sturdy oak table that he would crouch under when bombs were dropped on London, which meant, given the unpredictability of where the action might be, that Murrow's reporting team needed to be agile and adaptable in order to relocate faster than ever before.
This was a major organizing departure from industry norms, where well-established big-name commentators sat in comfortable corporate studios in secure Western capitals, and were surrounded by large staffs, and reported the news on their schedule -- hourly -- rather than where and when the action was actually taking place. Murrow needed a team that was the best of the best: well-informed experts on the ground, who were much more than simply ‘pretty voices’, and they had to be able to handle much greater decision-making latitude than had previously been acceptable.
Murrow wanted people who could talk expertly to a broad audience under far from perfect conditions. Fortunately, he was a great judge of talent, and the Murrow Boys were an extraordinary team of experts and swashbucklers, a true Virtuoso Team, which included: William Shirer, an expert on Nazi Germany, who later wrote the renowned bestseller Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, and who was “the last American out of Berlin”; the urbane and talented Eric Sevareid, who at 17 had canoed the uncharted wilds from Minnesota to Hudson’s Bay, was the first to report the fall of France, and who later was shot-down over Burma, going on to win many reporting and broadcasting awards over a long and distinguished career; “bonnie Prince Charlie” Collingwood, who reported live from Omaha Beach on D-Day and similar front lines with a 60-pound radio on his back; and the then 26 year old, Brooklyn-born, Richard C. Hottelet, who had already been jailed four months by the Gestapo for “suspicion of espionage,” and who later parachuted from a flaming bomber, over Germany, in the last days of the war.
Murrow's Boys took the war into every American household on a real-time basis and their brand grew accordingly. It also became an aspirational employment brand, as well, as Murrow encouraged his team to surpass all expectations in fulfilling their talent and who, in turn, protected them from CBS headquarters whenever their judgement was questioned, fending off any concerns by promising, “That’s all right, I’ll fix it”. Murrow once observed that “the only way to judge broadcasting... is by what issues forth from your receiving set,” and in response he created a team where never before had so many people across the world been able to share in the making of news simultaneously with those involved. He and his Boys took listeners to the very immediacy of what the war meant to Europe, whether from a rooftop in the middle of the Blitz, in a British bomber over Germany, or at the discovery of Buchenwald death camp.
Murrow was a catalyst for innovation throughout his career. He succeeded in moving CBS to broadcast journalism leadership, outpacing their formerly dominant rival NBC as a result of his demanding the best team achievable, harnessing the resources available and selecting and encouraging a band of virtuoso performers, to build what was a highly proficient, adaptable global presence – a challenge familiar to many managers today. In so doing, he also molded the future of both the Radio broadcasting industry, and its successor Television journalism.
In tribute to this accomplishment, Eric Sevareid, one of the most celebrated of the Murrow Boys alumni, and who regarded Murrow with unabashed admiration throughout his life, remarked that: "We were like a young band of brothers in those early radio days with Murrow", and in his final broadcast with CBS in 1977, he would refer to Murrow as the man who "invented me." Morrow never backed off from championing the ideas that he held vital to the continuation of his profession, and, as a result, he had no qualms in standing-up to the bullying power of Cold-War demagogue Senator Joseph McCarthy, at a time when so many others feared to do so. At a time of widespread fear in America, over the Cold-War, he also authored a collection of personal statements of belief by one hundred "thoughtful men and women" in tribute to the power of such convictions. In the forward to This I Believe, Murrow remarked that he was compelled to present such beliefs: "at a time.... when dissent is often confused with subversion, when a man's belief may be subject to investigation as well has his action..."
What the Murrow story shows us is that innovation is often much broader than merely technology, it can involve the entire value-chain of activities needed to deliver an experience. A strong, self-confident, courageous leader is essential to encouraging teams to take control of a situation and for overcoming the political impediments that they might face along the way. Young people can truly change the world if they are allowed into the critical conversations. And, we not only need leaders who can transform industries, we also need leaders who value the transformational power of ideas in all walks of life.
