A Bas the Military Censor

The Ride of Paul Revere—As It Would Be Featured in Washington Today

BRIGHTON PERRY

THEN this war is so definitely over that even James M. Beck admits it, there will begin the Compilation Period. This will simply mean that for the following two or three years all existing war bodies, such as the Red Cross, the Vigilantes and Lieut. Sousa's band, will have to turn their organizations and exchequers over to the tremendous work of compiling the various official communiques and news stories into a plausible history of the whole affair (112 vol. 8vo., $725 net, at all newsstands).

And where will they go for the most authentic material, do you ask? . . . Oh, go ahead and ask. . . . Very well then, I'll ask myself. Where will they go, Brighton, for the most authentic material?

Ans.: They will have to go to about three thousand disgruntled war correspondents, official press-agents and newspaper reporters, and induce them to bring forth from their desk drawers the copies of the stories which were never printed, stories which were written to give the great (numerically speaking) American public a clear idea of the whole situation, and which got as far as the censor, or the Committee on Public Inflammation, or the Postmaster General (now don't get peevish, Mr. Burleson, and bar Vanity Fair from the mails for this little pleasantry. It is meant only in the best of fun) where they were scientifically anesthetized so that they had to be dropped through the trap-door into the cellar with other publicity labelled "Unwise at this Time."

One wonders (especially if one is writing a story about it) just what would have happened if there had been a Committee on Public Information or a Military Censor during the Revolutionary War (1775-1783). How would Paul Revere have got his big news story to the people if he had been forced to deal through the channels of publicity which a modern news writer must traverse in our military organization? Following is a vivid word picture, giving the whole thing in detail:

LET us assume that Paul Revere and his little friend would have been allowed to execute their signalling stunt from the North Church steeple. As a matter of fact, the chances are they would have been arrested by the Salem Street Chapter of the Home Guard before they had waved one lantern aloft. We will concede that young Revere, on the opposite shore, has received the signal indicating that the British are on the way. His excuse for being out at that time of night is to inform the public.

But, being under a voluntary censorship not to disclose any military information without first submitting it to the proper authority for an O.K., he would ride quickly to the office of the Committee on Public Information, Middlesex Division.

On being shown into the office of the Public Informer (who, for the purpose of this story, would have to be staying late at the office that night working up a story on "How Our Soldier Boys Get Their Snuff") he would say:

"I have here a story on the imminent advance of the British troops which I think ought to get to the public as soon as possible or it will lose all of its news value. Do you suppose that I could get a release on it tonight?"

The Public Informer would take it and look at the first paragraph.

"Have you got John Adams' O.K. on this?" he would ask.

Mr. Revere would admit that he had just received the story.

"Well, I'll tell you what to do," would say the Continental Creel. "Leave the story here and I will have one of my men go over it for grammatical errors and then take it up with either Mr. Adams or Mr. Hancock, under whose department it comes. And, as it is a matter directly concerning military affairs, General Putnam ought to go over it first, also. I will be glad to put it out for you as soon as a decision has been reached. It looks like a good story to me. Come in tomorrow afternoon."

Although bursting with a desire to make himself the subject of a poem by dashing through "every Middlesex village and farm" that very night, our hero would have to spend the time between then and the next afternoon shooting Kelly Pool in the Boston Tavern, and telling the boys just what he thought about the Committee of Public Information.

ON the following day he would gallop (he simply had to gallop somewhere, even if it were only back and forth from the Censor's office) and the Public Informer would explain to him how the matter lay:

"One of my men has taken it up with General Putnam, and the General is very much disturbed that such information should have fallen into civilian hands in the first place. He wants to see you at 9:07 tomorrow morning to ask you where you got it. In the second place, both the General and Mr. Hancock agree with me that to give this story out to the public at this time would tend to create an atmosphere of unhealthy pessimism. You say here, in the first paragraph: 'The British are coming!' Now that is direct military information, and might be used by the Tory element to inform General Gage that we know of his plans and the whole affair might be called off.

"Furthermore, it seems unwise to spread this broadcast among the citizenry just now. They might get panicky. General Putnam says that it would upset his whole system of defense if this became common talk on the streets.

"But I will tell you what I will do. You might leave the story here, and I can have one of my men work it over into a bully Sunday feature story on 'The Red-Coats in New England,' describing the various points of interest along the route that the British troops march, with pictures showing the house on the comer of the street near which they landed in Charlestown, and perhaps the town-hall in Medford. We have plenty of red-hot pictures like that in our Division of Photographs and a great story ought to be worked up on this piece as a basis. We will put it out for you through our regular channels, and most of the trade papers and farm journals in the country will carry it."

And thus, my children, you would hear, of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. But that is not all. Far from it.

IT is an accepted fact that General Washington crossed the Delaware River. I think that I violate no confidence when I say that. Furthermore, it is conceded that it was a rather slick bit of work and done with a minimum of publicity and stir. And yet, had there been adequate military censorship think how much better it might have been done!

The Government would first have advertised in Trenton for bids on the furnishing of row-boats. It would have specified that these boats should be twelve feet four inches long, with a four-foot beam, large enough to carry a dozen soldiers, with one boat equipped with a platform in the bow large enough for a general to stand on in a picturesque attitude. It would have specified that the firm offering the winning bid should have the boats on the New Jersey shore at 9:00 Thursday night, equipped with long poles.

Following this, a space along the water-front would be roped off and patroled by Continental troops, so that no one could suspect that anything was going to happen in that vicinity.

In the meantime, the Military Censor would have got in his precautionary work and a notice would have been sent out to the editors of the various journals of the day, saying:

"It is requested that no mention, editorial or otherwise, be made of the intended crossing of the Delaware River by General Washington and his troops. In co-operating with the Government in this matter, the press will be aiding materially in winning the war."

The* following news items, however, would be considered perfectly permissible, as no names would be mentioned:

"A New Jersey Port, December 23.—A soldier belonging to the-th Regiment, which

is quartered here temporarily preparatory to embarkation for a Pennsylvania port, was arrested last night for attempting to pass some Continental money. He was freed on bail on his promise to leave New Jersey with his regiment tonight."

"A New Jersey Port, December 23.—Two British spy suspects were arrested in the barred zone along the water-front this morning, charged with peddling milk without a license. They were questioned by officers in charge concerning their knowledge of the intended movements of certain troops across a certain river, and, although they protested that they knew nothing of the matter, this fact in itself was considered suspicious, as there was no reason why they shouldn't know, and they were therefore interned."

And by the time everything was ready for the crossing, no one would be in the dark about it except the men who were to cross and their relatives at home. The British, incidentally, would have been on the ODposite shore waiting for them, wearing badges labelled "Reception Committee."

On the whole, it seems lucky that General Washington and the rest of the Boys in Buff handled their own publicity by releasing news to the enemy and to the public at the same time, and letting Nature take its course. It has made history much more intimate.