A Bulletin from the Palace

At 10:30 a.m. an urgent call came into the Fleet Street headquarters of Britain's two chief national news services, the Exchange Telegraph and Press Association. On the wire was a royal press office man who said calmly: "Here is an announcement from Buckingham Palace." In a few words, he said that King George VI had died, told the agencies to hold the news until 10:45 to allow time for other official notices to get through. But the news traveled faster than the royal press office had expected. Less than five minutes after the deadline, it was already in the U.S. and flashing around the world. Thus, it was an East African Standard reporter in Nairobi who telephoned the hunting lodge where Princess Elizabeth was staying and broke the news ahead of the official notice. The British papers worked just as fast. Within 15 minutes after the flash, London's Evening Standard, News and Star were on the streets with KING DEAD! In half an hour, Rothermere's Evening News was out with five pages of stories and pictures.

Kinship. The flash came too late for most U.S. morning papers, so afternoon dailies got the first break. Some of them, such as the New York Journal-American and Philadelphia Daily News, showed the deep kinship between the U.S. and Britain by running almost the same headlines as the British press: THE KING IS DEAD. They assumed readers would know which king was meant. The Christian Science Monitor, which seldom prints "death" in its pages, headed its story GEORGE VI PASSES; ELIZABETH TO FLY BACK TO LONDON, printed not a word about when, where or how he died.

Most papers were well prepared to give the story the big play it deserved. Ever since the King's operation last fall, editors have had pages, complete with pictures and background stories, ready to roll. The New York Times, which had four full pages locked up, ready to go to press in 15 minutes, devoted 47 columns to the story, and stopped the presses printing its Sunday Magazine to replate with a cover picture of the new Queen. Editors took extra care to keep from stumbling in matters of royal protocol. The Dallas Times-Herald asked the British consul to sit in the newsroom as an adviser on ceremony and mourning. Manhattan's Herald Tribute hastily bought a clear, factual story on royal succession, titles, etc., by Editor Cyril Hankinson of Debrett's Peerage.

After it had sent out a life story of Queen Elizabeth by Reporter John E. Carlova for its morning-paper customers, International News Service belatedly realized that it needed a new life story for its afternoon clients. It wired London Correspondent Fred Doerflinger to write a new life story from his own sources--and not to read Carlova. Editorials were reverent without being mawkish. Even McCormick's Anglophobic Chicago Tribune bowed its head: "George VI will be remembered as a man of simple piety, a good man . . . and a model of what a constitutional monarch should be."

Recollections. Newsstand sales rocketed. The Los Angeles Times almost doubled its press run of 50,000, still came close to selling out. In Washington, dailies had an average gain of 10,000 readers apiece, and everywhere papers were grabbed up as soon as they hit the stands. Editors dug hard for local angles. The Atlanta Journal remembered that Golfer Bobby Jones had once played golf with the King, and interviewed him on the King's game. New York Daily News Columnist John O'Donnell, in a rare moment of benign relaxation, fondly recalled that the King was known to a group of U.S. war correspondents by the unofficial code name, "Harry the Horse,"* when he visited France in the early days of World War II. Manhattan's World-Telegram & Sun stamp writer dashed off a column under the head: KING'S DEATH SPELLS NEW BRITISH ISSUES. The Brooklyn Eagle reported that the King died at "2:30 a.m. Brooklyn time." The Phoenix (Ariz.) Republic took the longest reach of all, ran a statement from climate-plugging Governor Howard Pyle, who had invited the King to recuperate in Arizona. Said Governor Pyle: "The people of Arizona are especially saddened because we had so hoped we might be privileged to help him regain his health."

Amid the black headlines and pages of stories, only Manhattan's Communist Daily Worker was out of step. Although London's Daily Worker played the story on Page One, the Manhattan paper apparently was not sure of the party line. It gave the story exactly 47 words under a one-column head on Page 6.

* Some official wartime code names: Truman, "Kilting"; Stalin, "Glyptic"; Harry Hopkins, "Kneepiece"; Eisenhower, "Duckpin"; Stettinius, "Collodion."

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