Herbert Morrison (announcer)

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Herbert Morrison (May 14, 1905January 10, 1989), American radio reporter, was best known for his vivid description of the fire that destroyed the Hindenburg zeppelin on May 6, 1937. Morrison and engineer Charlie Nehlsen had been assigned by station WLS in Chicago to cover the arrival of the airship in New Jersey as an experiment in recording news for delayed broadcast.

Network policy in those days forbade the use of recorded material except for sound effects on dramas, and Morrison and Nehlsen had no facilities for live broadcast. Still the results became the prototype for news broadcasting in the war years to follow. The fame of this recording had no effect on network policies, however, and it was not until after the end of World War II that recordings were regularly used.

Morrison's description began routinely but changed instantly as the airship burst into flames:

It's practically standing still now. They've dropped ropes out of the nose of the ship, and it has been taken ahold of down on the field by a number of men. It's starting to rain again; the rain had, uh, slacked up a little bit. The back motors of the ship are just holding it, uh, just enough to keep it from—

It's burst into flames! It's burst into flames and it's falling and crashing! Watch it! Watch it! Get out of the way, get out of the way! Get this, Charlie, get this, Charlie! It's fire and it's crashing! It's crashing terrible! Oh, my! Get out of the way, please! It's burning, bursting into flames (flames roar) and it's falling on the mooring mast and all the folks agree that (some think it's between) this is terrible! This is the worst of the worst catastrophes in the world! (unintelligible) Twenty... Oh! The flames are four or five hundred feet into the sky. (unintelligible) It's a terrific crash ladies and gentlemen it's smoke and it's flames, now, and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast. Oh, the humanity, all the passengers screaming around here! I told you..., I can't even talk to people, whose friends are on there. I can't talk, ladies and gentlemen... Honestly, it's just laying there, a mass of smoking wreckage (cries)! And everybody can hardly breathe and talk... Lady, I-I'm sorry! Honest! Charlie that's terrible. Listen folks, I can hardly breathe I'm going to step inside where I cannot see it. I'm gonna have to stop for a minute because I've lost my voice. This was the... the worst thing I've ever witnessed.

Morrison and Nehlsen continued their work, reporting at length on the rescue efforts and interviewing survivors, with several pauses while Morrison composes himself. The disk recordings were rushed back to Chicago and broadcast in full later that night. Portions were rebroadcast nationally by the NBC network the next day. It was the first time recordings of a news event were ever broadcast, and also the first coast-to-coast radio broadcast. Morrison's quick professional response and accurate description combined with his own emotional reaction have made the recordings a classic of audio history.

The emotional feeling may be intensified by the fact that Nehlsen's recorder ran a bit slow and all subsequent playbacks have been slightly speeded up. Judging by other recordings, Morrison's normal speaking voice was actually quite deep.

Audio historian Michael Biel of Morehead State University studied the original recordings and documented Nehlsen's vital contribution as an engineer as well as the playback speed issue:

I have closely examined the original discs and photographed the grooves at the point of the explosion. You can see several deep digs in the lacquer before the groove disappears. Then almost immediately there is a faint groove for about two revolutions while Charlie Nehlsen gently lowered the cutting head back to the disc. Fortunately the cutting stylus never cut through the lacquer to the aluminum base. If that had happened the most dramatic part of the recording would not have been made because the stylus would have been ruined. The digs and the bouncing off of the cutting head were caused by the shock wave of the explosion which reached the machine just after Morrison said "It burst into flame…"
I and several others believe that the originals were recorded slightly slow, and that all replays have been at too fast a speed. Comparison with the now two other known contemporary recordings of Morrison demonstrate this conclusion.

Morrison's description has been dubbed onto the newsreel film of the crash, giving the impression of a modern television-style broadcast, but at the time newsreels were separately narrated in a studio and Morrison's words were not heard in theaters.

The availability of newsreel films, photographs and Morrison's description was a result of heavy promotion of the arrival by the Zeppelin Company, ironically making the crash a media event and raising its importance far beyond other disasters, less well reported and documented.

Morrison's usual broadcast work was as an announcer on live musical programs, but his earlier successful reporting of midwestern floods from an airplane led to his assignment at Lakehurst that day.

An urban legend has it that Morrison was fired by WLS for his emotional reaction, but according to the station's weekly magazine and Morrison himself, this is not true. In fact, he was highly praised by station management, and the story of how he and Nehlsen made the recording was described in detail. It is possible that the story of his being fired came about because Morrison left WLS a year later to work for the Mutual Broadcasting System.

During the 1999 75th Anniversary broadcast of the History of WLS, producer and narrator Jeff Davis played the corrected speed version of Morrison's Hindenburg recording. This was the first time that the corrected speed version of the broadcast was heard by a national radio audience. The corrected speed version is quite astounding as the shock wave from the blast is now clearly audible, whereas in the previous higher speed version the shock wave was somewhat muffled.

[edit] Oh, the humanity

Morrison's phrase "Oh, the humanity" has become an American meme, signifying expressions of strong emotion. The phrase is often used in a cynical way to decry exaggerated responses to minor tragedies.

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