“We can bypass the newspapers and have the President speak directly to the people.” “And how exactly is the President supposed to communicate with the public without the media?
Don’t tell me you’re suggesting he go door to door.” William questioned him again.
Roosevelt remained silent, but the same doubt appeared in his blue eyes.
In this era, the flow of information followed a fixed path.
The President spoke at the White House.
Reporters took notes.
Newspapers printed the words in ink.
Newsboys shouted the headlines in the streets, and people paid to buy a copy.
Only then did they learn what the President had said.
Otherwise, as at the inauguration, people had to be there in person—to see him with their own eyes and hear him with their own ears.
But that required money for train fare, time off work, and the strength to travel those miles.
Clearly, that wasn’t what Francis had in mind.
“Gentlemen, over the past few years, one technology has advanced at an astonishing pace—so quickly that many people still haven’t realized what it means.
That technology is radio broadcasting.” Roosevelt’s expression sharpened ever so slightly.
“I’ve done some research.
By conservative estimates, there are now more than six million households across the United States with radios.
Cities have them.
Small towns have them.
Farms have them.
Working-class families have them.
Middle-class families have them.
Even many unemployed families have kept theirs after selling off their furniture and clothes.” “Because they can’t afford newspapers, but they can afford to listen to the radio.
They may not know how to read, but they understand plain speech.” The conference room fell so silent that the ticking of the wall clock became audible.
Francis continued in the same calm voice.
“If the President sat in front of a microphone and spoke to the entire country in an ordinary, conversational tone—as though he were talking with his own family—explaining what has happened to the banks, what the government intends to do, and what the people themselves should do…
then how much influence would Hearst’s newspapers have left?” “The radio…?” Roosevelt and the others still looked unconvinced.
“Exactly.” Francis nodded.
“Newspapers can cut up your words, rearrange them, and twist their meaning.
Radio can’t.
The moment you speak, every word reaches the people’s ears exactly as you said it.
They hear your voice, not a reporter’s retelling.
They hear your tone, not an editor’s revisions.” “And once that happens, that damned middleman called the press won’t be able to profit off the difference anymore.” “It sounds wonderful,” William said, “but is something like that actually possible from a technical standpoint?” In this era, a President addressing the entire nation by radio was far more complicated than simply sitting in front of a microphone and speaking.
It required an entire engineering system involving acoustics, electrical equipment, signal transmission, and coordination across a nationwide broadcasting network.
So William and the others still weren’t entirely convinced.
“Which is exactly why I said this technology has been developing so rapidly.
We happen to be living in the right era.” “All we need to do now is reach an agreement with broadcasters like NBC and CBS.” “They capture the President’s voice, convert it into an electrical signal, and send it by transmission cable to the broadcasting station outside Washington.
From there, the audio is modulated onto radio waves.
A one-kilowatt transmitter is enough to cover an entire state.” William frowned.
“But what about listeners in the other states?
We can’t exactly build a transmission station aimed at the White House in every single one.” “They can link local radio stations across the country into a single network using telephone lines.
Our signal would be sent simultaneously over those lines to Boston, Chicago, Denver, San Francisco, and every other affiliate.
Each station would then broadcast it locally using its own transmitter.” “That’s exactly how radio networks already operate.
NBC started doing it back in 1926, and CBS soon followed.
They use this very system to broadcast concerts and boxing matches, so technically speaking, there’s nothing difficult about it.” “All we have to do is get them to move the microphone in front of us.
It’s really that simple.” When he finished speaking, everyone looked at Francis differently.
None of them had expected that, besides his extraordinary talent for finance, he also possessed such a deep understanding of broadcasting technology.
But before long, Roosevelt’s eyes lit up.
It wasn’t ordinary excitement.
It was the look of a man who had spent decades fighting on the political battlefield and had suddenly discovered an entirely new weapon.
“My boy…
this idea has real promise.
But I’ll need to discuss it with Stephen and Louis first.” …
The news spread quickly.
So quickly that it caught many people completely off guard.
“The President is going to bypass the newspapers and speak directly to the public over this thing called radio?” “Not a speech—a ‘conversation’?” “And everyone with a radio can hear it?” Inside Washington’s Press Club, several veteran journalists exchanged bewildered glances.
They had been in the profession for decades, from the days of McKinley and Taft, through Wilson and Harding, then Coolidge and Hoover.
Never had a President even considered bypassing them to speak directly to the American people.
“That doesn’t make any sense.
There are supposed to be people like us between the President and the public.” “He can’t do that.
Without us, how are people supposed to believe what he says?” No one had an answer.
Meanwhile, in a luxurious private mansion elsewhere in Washington, Hearst was enjoying lunch.
The steak was a prime ribeye, and the wine was an 1887 Château Latour.
But when his secretary rushed in with the news, his knife and fork froze in midair.
“What?” “It’s true, sir.
Absolutely true.” The secretary’s voice trembled slightly.
“The White House is preparing a nationwide radio address.
The President is going to speak directly to the public—not through newspapers, not through reporters, but in his own voice.” Hearst’s expression changed.
It was subtle, but anyone who knew him well would recognize it immediately.
It was fear.
He had spent thirty years building the largest newspaper empire in the United States.
Dozens of newspapers.
Millions of readers.
Countless politicians depended on his pages to survive, and countless stories relied on his channels to reach the public.
He was the king of public opinion, the gatekeeper of information, the wall that stood between the White House and the American people.
Now, someone was about to tear that wall down.
“He can’t do this.” Hearst set down his knife and fork, his voice low and grim.
“It’s against the rules governing the press.” He stood and walked to the telephone.
His first call was to the head of the National Broadcasting Company (NBC).
“Merlin, it’s Hearst.
I hear the White House is planning some kind of nationwide radio address.
Have they contacted you yet?” There was a two-second silence before a somewhat stiff voice answered.
“Yes…
they have.” “And you agreed?” “Mr.
Hearst, that’s not really our decision to make.
The White House…
has already made the arrangements.” “Merlin.” Hearst tightened his grip on the receiver, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“Do you understand that, historically, Presidents have always communicated with the public through the news media?
Broadcasting companies are merely transmission channels, not the publishers of official statements.
You have no authority to…” —