"Good Night and Good Luck"

Oct 2021

 We asked our writers to watch Edward R. Murrow's famous speech - "Good Night and Good Luck" - and challenged them, as future journalists, to reflect on Murrow's belief that society needs honest, hard hitting news sources and his prediction of what would happen if we did not have that.

Murrow Says He Was Ambitious

Jack Daly
Class of 2025

Two men, both prominent public figures, clash. The winner will be lauded, the loser disgraced forever. The year is 1953 and the men are Senator Joseph McCarthy and CBS reporter extraordinaire Edward R. Murrow. Their battleground consists of millions of living rooms across the country and the choice of weapon is rhetoric. The results: McCarthy is counted among the great villains of the twentieth century and Murrow is named the patron saint of journalism. Their battle is given new life through a thrilling albeit flawed dramatization in the 2005 Warner Brothers movie Good Night, and Good Luck.

After the Second World War, America was plunged into a renewed red scare. Thanks to the testimony of disaffected communists such as Elia Kazan and Whitaker Chambers, the public could be certain that subversive actors were attempting to influence the nation’s most esteemed circles from Washington to Hollywood. As a response to the soaring anti-communist feeling, predictable measures, such as loyalty oaths, were in place since the Truman administration, but that wasn’t enough. As in all moments of historical passion, the public craves an identifiable face and name, producing visible results to relieve the tension of the unknown: Joe McCarthy would be their man. From his seat on the Senate investigating committee, he turned hearings into theatre, drama that might at last give Americans a much yearned for release.

Whatever his intentions, it soon became clear that the senator from Wisconsin was the wrong man. In his zeal, he became a liar and a bully in the most consequential sense of the word. Throughout the nation, everyday people were rapidly waking up to see that McCarthy had to be stopped as he lashed out at new opponents clearly undeserving of ire. Herein lay the problem: real communists posed a real threat, but the man trusted to root them out had abused his station, while the public languished in confusion.

Enter Edward Murrow, a broadcaster who had made his name during the war. From the Anschluss to the liberation of death camps, he was never more than two steps behind the action. Among the first to make the switch to television, Murrow would appear to Americans every night as the avatar of journalistic virtj. If he had to be pinned down politically, Murrow would almost certainly be a liberal, yet well within the moderate consensus that existed at the time. He was a man of doubtless potency in skill and style, and illustrious in honor. As more and more voices of greater and greater renown began to speak out against McCarthy, the country awaited Murrow’s words to shift the conversation.

Good Night, and Good Luck recreates real episodes of Murrow’s program, linked together by segments of behind-the-scenes action unfolding in the CBS studio. The audience is treated to a nostalgic picture of mid-twentieth century network news. The last of the line of tough talking truth tellers surrounded, if not mellowed, by an air of professionalism. The movie serves as a glowing celebration of the press and its role in the American Republic. Speaking of McCarthy’s imminent counterattack Murrow, portrayed by David Strathairn, remarks, "He’s going to bet a senator trumps a newsman." His producer Freddy Friendly (George Clooney) instantly replies, "He’ll lose."

No bias, both sides, just the facts: these were supposedly the gold standards within the news world of yore. Still in the current media climate, one must wonder whether Murrow and his ilk were setting too high a bar with all their talk of "objectivity." In the film, Murrow all but makes the same point, when to quiet resistance to his taking a public stance he says, "We all editorialize."

As a work of cinema, Good Night, and Good Luck is fast paced and adrenaline inducing, but as a matter of ideology, the movie critically overplays its hand. When in original footage Margaret Radulovich, sister of Milo Radulovich an Air Force Lieutenant discharged because his family were suspected communists, states that her political conduct is her, "own private affair," she is simply wrong in that political action by definition concerns the public. Most bizarrely, the movie expects its audience to sympathize with Joseph and Shirley Wershba (Robert Downey Jr. and Patricia Clarkson), two married fellow travelers working for CBS. At one point Joe entertains the possibility that they might have, "protected the wrong side," only for his wife to immediately reassure him. Furthermore, Joe is only forced to leave CBS when their secret relationship is revealed because of a policy barring the marriage of employees.

McCarthy finally accepts Murrow’s offer to appear on television, the den of the "jackal pack." This is McCarthy’s last shot, and he’s aiming right at Murrow, right at the voice of opposition. His slanderous words can bring down the reporter, or ricochet to solidify his own undoing. The senator walks away wounded, and soon after commits political suicide at the hearings.

The actions of the senator permanently tarnished the anti-communist movement. Works of popular media such as Rod Serling’s masterful Sci-fi fable "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" reinforced one side’s outlook on the era. Now fears of the subversive creed could simply be dismissed as gross expressions of the national id, and a kind of anti-McCarthyism in time became its own cudgel against opposition.

In the succeeding decades, McCarthy has come to be viewed as a maniac who made wholly baseless claims, but anyone with these opinions would do well to remember the serious threat posed by communism. The prevailing image of the senator is not only misleading in its lack of nuance, but also guilty of sowing the seeds of contention. To anyone ignorant of the full historical reality, but cognizant of fact that the accepted views on McCarthy are false in many respects, he becomes the perfect figure to lionize.

A few things can be gleaned from this snapshot of history. The first is that while many comparisons can be made of contemporary political bullies to McCarthy, there is no equivalence. The senator, villain though he was, at least ostensibly went after communists. The other is that the nation is once more awaiting the words of someone such as Murrow.

Read other articles by Jack Daly

The power of words

Claire Doll
Class of 2024

I’ve found that it is always the end of news reports that brings us the most fear, the most apprehension, the heart-racing anticipation of what tomorrow will bring. While headlines can be threatening, telling us in big bold words what the state of the world is, it’s those last few words printed in small black ink, or the final sentence spoken on air, that truly rings with us long after the news is told. Because of this, the profession of journalism is looked down upon. After all, watching the news takes a big toll on our soul, drowning us in fear and giving us a pessimistic view of the world. I’m sure we have all experienced this throughout the one-and-a-half years of COVID-19. How many times have you gone to bed, physically feeling the hope fade from your heart because the world as we know it will never be the same? How many times have you sat in front of a screen, any screen, your heart beating loudly as you watch the number of virus cases climb? And how many times, at the end of a news report, have you been told that everything would be okay? At the very least, have you ever been wished good luck?

"Good night, and good luck." Broadcast journalist Edward Murrow famously spoke these words at the end of his very own broadcasts throughout World War II and during the rise of Communism, a time characterized by uncertainty and fear. Although the content of Murrow’s reports was important, it was the way he delivered this news that really distinguished him as a truth-seeking journalist with the purpose to not only educate the public, but to also give a semblance of hope. Murrow spoke with words of courage, words that would be heard by all Americans on TV, words that informed many and fueled perseverance.

It is a dream of mine to be a writer that can convey such hope and impact so many people simply with the use of my words.

When I was younger, I begged my parents to buy me a Kit Kittredge doll for Christmas. She was an American Girl Doll, belonging to a brand of dolls where each one had their own historical significance, their own story of adventure and courage. The blonde ten-year-old would venture into her town and reveal truths about the Great Depression, working with friends and even solving crimes just to accomplish her dream of being published in a real newspaper. As a ten-year-old myself, I strived to be Kit Kittredge. Although I didn’t have blonde hair or freckles like my doll did, I began writing, journaling the events that took place in my life, creating characters that evolved into stories, finding the beauty a single word can hold and embedding it into a poem. As I grew up, the idea of creative writing appealed to me more than journalistic writing; I loved how musical and lyrical sentences could sound, and I enjoyed nothing more than describing a scene with colorful imagery and telling things exactly how I saw them. Flash forward to college: I am an education major with the hope of teaching young students how to read and write, and I am a creative writing minor with a passion for storytelling and language. To put it simply, I love using words, love how much meaning they can convey, love how they shape the world just by existing.

I used to think only creative writing was beautiful because it used words to help me escape. I can recall countless times in my life where I’d sit down, crack open a journal, and write to my heart’s content. Creating characters, inventing plots, and stringing together image-filled sentences reminded me that reality was temporary by choice, and that writing fiction is a mode of travel. I grew away from Kit Kittredge’s method of writing, of reporting news and jotting it down on a notepad. After all, how could journalism be beautiful? The media today uses words to convey misinformation and evoke fear. I had looked down upon it for so long, until I was given the opportunity to research Edward Murrow. Only then did I discover a particular use of words, one different from writing creatively, one that shows how journalism is meant to not only provide facts, but to also steer readers towards a common truth.

Journalism is beautiful because, when done well, it is truth-seeking. Perhaps there is no imagery, no lyrical rhymes embedded in sentences, but as Plato once said, "Truth is the beginning of every good to the gods, and of every good to man." The sole purpose of journalism is to not only report facts to the public, but also to convey hope and perseverance in a time where the truth is desperately needed. Edward Murrow knew this well. He inspired the initial purpose of journalism and gave his broadcasts to the people, acting as a light of truth in a time shadowed by darkness, revealing the ultimate good in a world of bad; this in itself is what makes journalism beautiful.

We are simply unaware of the power of words. I did not recognize this until hearing the resonance that the sentence "good night, and good luck" had left behind when spoken by Murrow. In times of terror and fear, writers and broadcasters feel that their only purpose is to inform the public. While this may be true, the profession of journalism is one that uses words to communicate with thousands and thousands of people, words that spark panic and take from hope. Murrow, however, used his words to offer comfort. Perhaps he couldn’t end World War II or protect from Communism, but he cultivated an atmosphere of perseverance. His words encouraged others, and this reveals how language holds the power to unite one another and inspire the pursuit of the truth. And perhaps saying "good night, and good luck" at the end of his broadcasts was the most impactful sentence he could say, because at the end of the day, humans desire that sentiment of peace, of togetherness, and of knowing what tomorrow will bring.

Read other articles by Claire Doll

News or stories?

Emmy Jansen
MSMU Class of 2023

Newspapers are dying. This mantra was thrown at me again and again throughout my English and History courses in my secondary education. Social media was on the rise, newsmagazines were trying to shift with the times, and the newspaper stopped getting physically delivered to my house. Yet, something kept drawing me to journalism. My high school days were filled with yearbook publishing deadlines, editor duties, and writing courses I enjoyed while other teens were at the beach. I liked to write, but more importantly, I loved to tell stories. I’ve written consistently for journals and publications for the past eight years. So, looking at my own life, it sure doesn’t seem like its dying.

However, it is. Journalism suffers, especially in this country, with entertainment media, social media, and commercialization, among other factors. I’m not one to dismiss change just for the sake of it, but sometimes tradition is better than the alternative. If we lose the newspaper, history doesn’t make sense. Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison chose to publish The Federalist Papers, not to orate them. Hamilton, as well as Benjamin Franklin, Samuel Adams, and John Adams, were all journalists in addition to being Founding Fathers. Hearst and Pulitzer, newspaper giants of the late nineteenth century, were politicians. Franklin Roosevelt, with his fireside chats, can be said to have dipped his toes into the journalistic world. The inventions of the twentieth century flowed with the tide, with radio and TV broadcasts allowing the country the same access to information unlike before. I can name some sports announcers, sure, and I know the personalities on the local radio stations. But the social positions given to journalists today pales in comparison to giants of free speech and publication.

With the explosion of technology, there are so many places we could receive information: newspapers, magazines, television, radio, advertising, social media, websites. Yet, the more places to seek information has dulled the information available. Newspapers have shortened, magazines are digital, and every publication has an Instagram where they shrink the information into a few phrases. Entertainment has become news and news has become entertainment. Buzzfeed, a popular entertainment site, has added a newsfeed portion. The New York Times, in between stories of global significance, shares pictures of celebrities and Hollywood trivia. While entertainment and pop culture can be meaningful and provide the country with influential cultural novelties, there exists real danger with equating them with news.

The result has been to soften news, to make it as digestible as the pop culture bookending it. We write with our readers in mind, not to share the stories that are worth printing on the page. Stories are shortened because we can’t expect people to read as much anymore, even though the literacy rates are higher now than they were when newspapers held social significance. Are Americans not as smart as they used to be? The increasing number of Americans holding college degrees would beg to differ. I am a bit of an optimist; there is no doubt in my mind that the vast American public could stomach journalism as it used to be, with news, significance, information, yes, and even higher word counts. That is, if we gave them the opportunity to try.

Edward Murrow, the inspiration behind this publication, predicted this change long before I was around to chronicle it: "This instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and even it can inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise, it’s nothing but wires and lights in a box." Murrow said this about TV, before the proliferation of channels that leads most Americans to turn off the device instead of choosing one of thousands. This same statement could be said about radio, newspapers, social media, television, and music. If we, on the production end, allow the medium to be something, it will serve that purpose for the audience. If we, assuming something about the audience, make the medium fit that presupposed mold, we should not be shocked to find our audience eating it up. We let the profits drive the production, and as I start picking up some of the burdens of adulthood, I understand that to be a valid course of action. However, there have been and there will continue to be drastic impacts of these journalistic choices.

Other than being a contributing writer to this unique publication, I am the Student Body President at the Mount. Shortly after I was elected, a seasoned staff member left me with this: "A student government is only as strong as the student newspaper, or vice versa. If both are strong, the university can’t help but take them seriously." I hadn’t connected these facets of my life before, although they’ve always coexisted. As well as being a passionate storyteller, I’ve always had my hand in the political realm of the institutions. They aren’t too different; being a leader is about listening to the stories around you and deciding which ones need to continue and which need to drastically change course. It is not to suffocate the voices of others around you, but to listen to those you serve and tweak the plot when the problems arise.

Edward Murrow knew this. In addition to being a news personality, he saw the importance of storytelling. I know Murrow best from the editions in my bedroom of This I Believe, where the famous and not famous were encouraged to share their personal motivations and life stories in a few minutes or pages. These stories were told by former presidents, celebrities, notables, and nobodies. It was these stories that ignited the fire of journalism in my heart at a young age and I have spent the years since then chasing that spirit in publications, only to wind up here, doing exactly that. So Emmitsburg and surrounding, goodnight, and wish me luck in trying to live out the mission Murrow has left us with.

Read other articles by Emmy Jansenl

A narrow focus for truth

Harry Scherer
Class of 2022

Good Night, and Good Luck is a story of resilience, conviction, and most importantly, risk. The most consistent look of Edward R. Murrow, played by David Strathairn, is uncertainty. The questioning mind of Murrow drives his actions in the way of principle, constantly aware that monsters and goblins line his path on either side. The lesson that can be gained from this sort of prudential tunnel-vision is a difficult but necessary one.

Near the beginning of the film, Murrow says, "We’re going to go with the story, because the terror is right here in this room." The motive of this declaration is worth parsing out. Was it a concern for the national and international ramifications of such a move? Perhaps he spoke in such a way as the result of personal exhaustion from the painstaking deliberation. While both of these are plausible, and certainly have been motivations for choice and action in the past, they do not seem to apply here.

Rather, Murrow recognizes the intimate connectivity of the personal and social. Namely, he sees the "terror" in the voices, eyes, and words of his colleagues and decides that this attitude is not fitting for a republic. It was the quiet testimony of his peers that initiated a political firestorm. There does not seem to be anything imprudent about this method of decision-making, though. Murrow sees the consequential editorial board meeting as a microcosm of the American mind. ‘If my educated and informed colleagues are behaving in such a way,’ Murrow thought, ‘so are many other American professionals across the country.’

In this way, Murrow’s boardroom fulfilled its controversial role as the chambers for the fourth branch of government. The soft power held by the editors, writers, and producers of Murrow’s broadcast is hard to overlook. While some may view this influence as a tantalizing incentive to join the ranks of corporate media, it seems that such an attitude would be more destructive than beneficial for our republic. Similar to the sentiment that those who want to avoid institutional political work should pursue such a position, it seems that only those who do not want to work in journalism should seek the position of journalist. The temptation that goes along with such a position is as strong as it is common. To that end, a certain disinterest in the result or product of the journalistic act seems to be a prerequisite for any journalist seeking to "exult the importance of ideas and information," as the head of our newspaper would encourage.

Murrow sets himself up as a model for this sort of journalistic disinterest. While he was not ignorant of the forces against him on the levels of politics, professionalism, and personal reputation, he was more concerned with the propagation of his journalistic work than the certain political ramifications. The film would suggest that this sort of narrow focus is a virtue in the world of journalism; any broader focus forces the journalist to abdicate his position as invested observer and to join the messy world about which the journalist is tasked to write.

In pursuit of this focus, the film seems to identify a certain level of education necessary to fully respond to the rigorous demands of responsible citizenship. The film engages with issues of infiltration, deceit, and principle. While all of these phenomena are typical in the realm of human experience, the way in which the film deals with them requires a certain elevated awareness. For example, Murrow’s literary allusion in the middle of the film successfully refers their current institutional crisis back to an ancient one pursued by Shakespeare: "Cassius was right. ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.’" This sort of reference on national television flies in the face of our contemporary impulse toward accessibility at any cost, even if the cost is a weakening of national wisdom. Murrow, however, was taking advantage of a common language that he shared with the sections of the citizenry that would be most receptive to his message. This is political thinking at its greatest. Behind his attitudes of uncertainty, doubt, and relative discomfort in a situation of serious risk, Murrow maneuvers his political pieces on the board of national television.

This chess game does not go on for long, though. The chief executive of CBS named William Paley, played by Frank Langella, takes on the role of scapegoat, especially near the end of the film. Murrow engages with sensitive and controversial issues throughout his evening special. Paley thinks that this strategy, however popular with a certain contingent of consumers who search for beat journalism, is not sustainable in the long run. He cites the monetary and social influence of sponsors and the political capital that the station stands to lose as reasons for Murrow’s adjusted schedule to be placed on a Sunday afternoon. In this way, the film successfully portrays Paley as the cold-hearted capitalist, solely concerned with financial health and ignorant or apathetic toward a pursuit of truth-at-all-costs.

In this way, the film places an insurmountable dichotomy between the truth-loving journalist and the money-grubbing, functionary corporate bureaucrat. This dichotomy is, admittedly, a romantic one and one that probably exists in reality to some extent. It seems that one of the goals of Hollywood productions like this one is to place a clear distinction between the pitiful loser and the arrogant winner; after the distinction is made, a fight to the death is in order. Something closer to reality recognizes that Murrow, McCarthy, Paley, and all the characters implicated in this story did some things right and some things wrong. Of the things they all did right and wrong, they did them well or poorly.

As the 2021-22 university writing staff of the Emmitsburg News-Journal embarks on a new year (and my final year with the paper), it is my hope that our writing recognizes nuance, embraces truth, and identifies evil when it comes in our way. In other words, may we exult the importance of information and ideas.

Read other articles by Harry Scherer

Read Past Editions of Four Years at the Mount