Press: Unhappy Ending

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C, In Toledo the Blade shrieked "extras" that Hauptmann was sentenced to life imprisonment.

C, In Denver both the loud Post and its rival Rocky Mountain News spread the wrong news.

C, In Washington, Eleanor Medill ("Cissy") Patterson, fiery editor of Hearst's Herald, gleefully squealed: "I'll give $20 for a copy of the Post!" Like a flash a newshawk was out of the office while his boss waited in a fever of anticipation. The Post, published by Eugene Meyer, onetime Governor of the Federal Reserve Board, had been squabbling with "Cissy" Patterson's Herald for more than a year. Only three weeks ago the Post had jeered at the Herald for publishing a vivid "eyewitness" description of an execution two hours before the condemned men went to the chair. Hence Editor Patterson gladly paid $20 for the copy of the Post with the headline: HAUPTMANN GUILTY BUT ESCAPES DEATH. Next day the Herald appeared with a stinging "open letter" from "Cissy" Patterson. Caption: "You Asked For It—Eugene." C. The St. Louis Globe-Democrat's behavior was most extraordinary. Its extra carried two stories, one giving the penalty as life imprisonment, the other as death.

Such spectacles, with their accompanying uproar, occurred in nearly every city in the land last week. Meanwhile the false report about imprisonment had blanketed the two great radio networks, had been repeated in theatres, on bulletin boards. Miserably unhappy offender was the great Associated Press.

Since the courtroom doors were to be locked during the verdict formalities, the A. P. man in the courtroom carried a brief case containing a short-wave transmitter just powerful enough to flash buzz signals to a telegraph operator upstairs in the courthouse. Locked in his tiny room in the cupola, at 10:29 p. m. the operator heard four sharp buzzes in his earphones, leaped to his key. By A. P. code, four buzzes meant "Guilty—recommendation mercy—life imprisonment." Over the A. P. wires to 1.200 member newspapers and to Press-Radio bureau for broadcast went the flash. . . .-

What the A. P. did not know was that among the 400-odd newshawks in the courtroom, each with his own bag of tricks, another had chosen the same device. The New York Daily News man carried a small overnight bag containing a short-wave transmitter. As the jury entered the courtroom, the News man stealthily touched his radio button four times—the News's code signal for jury-entry. That was the signal that flashed from courtroom to cupola to press-rooms and microphones.|

Even when the foreman uttered the words that meant "electric chair," the courtroom doors were not unlocked. Every newshawk in the room was prepared for that emergency. A reporter down in front raised a red handkerchief, and a messenger at the rear door shoved a red slip of paper through the sill. One newshawk, poised to hurl colored iron balls through the window pane, was thwarted by lowered window blinds. Nerviest of all was Reporter Francis Toughill of the Philadelphia Record, who boldly scraped the insulation off the courtroom telephone wire, hooked in a telephone headset. Crouched in the balcony he calmly called his city desk, gave the verdict.