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The World We Lost

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The Last Morse Code Stations
Adam Hochberg, All Things Considered, National Public Radio, July 14, 1999
In 1999 the last four stations that communicated with
ships by Morse code signed off the air, the last four
commercial Morse code operations in North America.
The invention of wireless telegraphy enabled Morse's
system of dots and dashes to play a key role in 20th-
century ship-to-shore communication. National Public
Radio's Adam Hochberg reports on final
transmissions and the disappearance of Morse Code.
Transcript:
This is the sound of a dying language.
(Soundbite of Morse code transmission)
HOCHBERG: After more than 150 years, the dots and
dashes of Morse code are quickly fading into the
static of the past. For generations, these electric
sounds were the only form of long-distance
communication. On land, they heralded the arrival of
a telegram or a news dispatch from far away. On the
seas, they were a lifeline for lonely mariners. Today,
overtaken by the telephone and the Internet, Morse
code is considered obsolete, and the people who
once used it are mourning its loss.
Mr. JACK RITTER: There's a sadness. An old friend
is retiring. Something that you've done most all your
life is going away.
HOCHBERG: Sixty-one-year-old Jack Ritter has been
enthralled with Morse code since he was a boy. His
grandfather worked the telegraph on the Rock Island
Railroad, and Ritter himself was a Morse code
operator in the Navy, manning the radio crew for John
Glenn's first space flight in 1962. And like many of his
contemporaries, Ritter has a deep affection for the
dots and dashes.
Mr. RITTER: It's a universal language. There is no
more reliable communications media in the world,
satellite, anything else, than you get two operators
who are proficient in Morse code. When the other
signals can't get through because of interference, two
operators can communicate.
HOCHBERG: That reliability is what Samuel Morse
had in mind when he devised his electric language. It
was designed to be foolproof, requiring only a small
key to send signals, a small clicker to receive them
and a wire to connect the two. The simple invention
led to massive telegraph networks that sprawled
across the United States and Europe in the late
1800s. And with the advent of radio, Morse code went
wireless. Sailors used it to communicate with the
mainland and early radio stations began broadcasting
news to ships at sea.
In 1915, a hobbyist named Charles Apgar recorded
one of those news programs from New York station
WHB.
(Soundbite from 1915)
Mr. CHARLES APGAR (Hobbyist): What you will hear
will only be the Morse code signals in this message.
That's all we had at that time. No voice, no music, just
a lot of dots and dashes.
(Soundbite of Morse code transmission)
(End of soundbite)
HOCHBERG: For its era, the technology was
revolutionary. Never before could people
communicate over such long distances so quickly.
The military embraced it; so did businesses and the
news media. Operators who could send Morse code
quickly found themselves in demand for jobs. There
were telegraph romances, even a few Morse code
weddings. And telegraph historian Jeff Wittig says by
the 1930s, the dots and dashes were part of
American culture.
Mr. JEFF WITTIG (Telegraph Historian): At a sporting
event, you would hear fans sending messages to
players on the field in Morse code, and one of those
messages endures today: Fans will pound out a
rhythm on the bleachers with their feet, and it's boom,
boom; boom, boom, boom; boom, boom, boom,
boom; boom, boom. It's the rhythm for the Morse
code figures seven and three, and 73 is a
telegrapher's signal for best wishes.
HOCHBERG: Even after the telephone replaced the
telegraph for land communication, Morse code
remained dominant at sea. Ships were required to
have radio officers on duty day and night, an
international law passed after the sinking of the
Titanic.
During World War II, thousands of American troops
learned Morse code at Gallups Island,
Massachusetts, before taking assignments in the
radio rooms of military vessels. One of those sailors
was Ralph Albers, who still recalls the sound of ships
sending frantic Morse code distress signals as they
were torpedoed by enemy submarines.
Mr. RALPH ALBERS (Former Sailor): During that
time, there were about 400 ships sunk, and every
night we'd hear--it would just be--when a sub was
sighted, it'd say, `S, S, S, S; S, S, S, S,' and it'd say,
`Torpedoed, sinking, abandoning ship.' And then the
guy would lock his key down so it'd send out a
continuous, `beeeeep.' And when the ship went
underwater, the beep would stop so you knew the
ship was gone.
HOCHBERG: It was through Morse code that
Americans heard one of the most chilling accounts of
the Second World War, a telegraph transmission from
a 22-year-old Army corporal named Irving Strobing.
He was broadcasting from Corrigidor, in May 1942, as
Japanese troops overran the Philippine island.
(Soundbite of Morse code transmission from Army
Corporal Irving Strobing)
Unidentified Man: `The white flag is up. Everyone is
bawling like a baby. They're piling dead, wounded
soldiers in our tunnels. I know now how a mouse feels
caught in a trap.'
HOCHBERG: For years after the war, Morse code
continued to be widely used on the high seas, but in
the past two decades, new technology began to take
its place.
(Soundbite of computer transmission)
HOCHBERG: Computers replaced radio operators,
satellites started handling ship-to-shore
communications. Captains now could talk on the
phone to the mainland or send e-mail without having
to resort to the cryptic system of dashes and dots. Jeff
Wittig, the historian, says after 150 years, progress
finally caught up with Samuel Morse's invention.
Mr. WITTIG: While Morse code has an enchantment,
it has some serious drawbacks, speed being the
primary one. And I think that's the reason that
technology moved ahead and found better and faster
ways of communicating.
HOCHBERG: In 1995, the Coast Guard closed its
Morse code operation, and this week the last four
commercial Morse code stations in North America
shut down as well, two in California, one each in
Massachusetts and Louisiana. To commemorate the
occasion, there was a brief ceremony Monday outside
San Francisco, an opportunity for veteran radio men
to say goodbye to a language they loved. Mike Rems
was one of the last Morse code operators at California
station KFS.
Mr. MIKE REMS: I started in this business when I was
17 years old. I went to school and I learned this
profession, and I said, `Someday, I want to go to a
coastal radio station and talk to ships and get paid for
it.' And I did it for 18 years, and I didn't think I would
be, but I'm kind of choked up.
(Soundbite of Morse code transmission)
HOCHBERG: Before KFS went off the air, some of
Rems' colleagues sent out this last transmission, a
brief Morse code message to President Clinton. `Dear
President,' they said, `Please accept this final radio
telegraph message as a token of this historic event.'
The president wasn't listening to the transmission, but
he didn't have to be. The Morse code operators, in a
concession to new technology, sent the White House
a copy of the message by e-mail. Adam Hochberg,
NPR News.
(Soundbite of Morse code transmission) |
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Credits:
audio: ©1999 National Public Radio ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
photo: "The Last Commercial Morse Code Transmission" courtesy of Globe Wireless
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