True Tales from Canton’s Past: Breaking News

A 1906 postcard view of the dormant volcano in Canton (Collection of the author)

Today we get our news from so many sources. In a world of almost instant access to information, we can turn to Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, all of which closely follow conventional news outlets. News is so “now” that within moments of a recent police chase from Brockton to Canton, which ended at the infamous “roundabout,” citizen journalists had posted photos of the scene almost live from Pleasant Street.

It has gotten so instant that when obnoxious neighbors set off a volley of fireworks, Facebook erupts within an instant to help pinpoint the perpetrators and bring shame unto those who break the bucolic silence of the night. The Police Department tweets incidents in real time to spread the word and quell curiosity in the interest of public information. Tweet #snowday and folks will stay home from school — it’s as easy as that.

The days of sitting down at 6 p.m. to watch the evening newscast have morphed into this need for almost instantaneous information. We walk around with our heads in the palm of our hands as we gaze at the smartphone. I recall a certain curmudgeonly old friend named Ray who once approached a couple in a posh restaurant where the couple was on a date. Ray saw the male half of the date on a cellphone, and within a flash he walked over, took the phone from the man’s hand and said, “You are dining with the most beautiful woman in the world. Hang up the phone and be in the moment.”

Being in the moment is rare these days. The media bombards us with micro-news that in reality is not news at all. After the most recent Trumpeting over the wives of the campaign, we are left asking ourselves, why is this news? And so, as we approach the anniversary tomorrow of the “mother of all pranks,” we get a closer look at historically what serves up as news.

Thirty-six years ago you had a few news radio stations and of course a small handful of TV stations that covered the basics of local regional news. In the average Canton home, the Patriot Ledger would have been delivered by the “paperboy,” and weekly local news would arrive via the Canton Journal. That was it, and these were all trusted news sources.

In Boston there were a few television sources for news, one of which was WNAC-TV. The station first signed on the air on June 21, 1948, and was the second television station in Boston (debuting 12 days after WBZ-TV channel 4). The station, along with WNAC radio, was owned by General Tire. General Tire had purchased the Yankee Network in 1943. WNAC-TV channel 7 spent most of its first 20 years on the air as a distant third in the Boston ratings, behind WBZ-TV.

Chanel 7 in the 1970s and 1980s had a news department that has been described as suffering as a result of several blunders. In 1977, the news anchor Jack Cole stated, “We’ll be back with more alleged news” after airing a news report on how to clean and prepare a chimney for Santa Claus. To be sure, this was a troubled news station. And after one of the most laughable news blunders in American television history, it is easy to see why WNAC-TV is not around anymore.

On April 1, 1980, folks in Canton and Milton had settled down after a long day to watch the 6 o’clock news on channel 7. At the very end of the newscast an art-card flashed on the screen proclaiming a “News Bulletin.” People took notice of bulletins; after all, it was rare to break into a newscast. In what has been described as “shock and awe,” images of Great Blue Hill flashed onto the screen having been superimposed with flames and lava. Films of the recently active Mount St. Helens volcano in Washington state were used, dubbed with audio that was apparently warnings from President Carter proclaiming his “concern” and Governor King calling the situation “serious.”

John Henning and Mary Richardson introduced the now infamous Blue Hill volcano segment but were unaware of the graphic nature of the prank. (Bill Golladay, Creative Commons)

This prank had a further scent of authenticity when the report suggested that the eruption was triggered by the recent eruption of Mount St. Helens. The report touted “geological disturbances across the country, including tidal waves in the Great Lakes and erupting volcanoes in Massachusetts.” The reporter, Jan Harrison, gave the story such a ring of authenticity that before her report could end, the damage was underway.

The civil defense system received urgent phone calls. The phones at the State Police barracks in Milton at the foot of the “eruption” rang off the hook with panicked inquiries. More than 300 calls were logged in, and in one case a man, believing his house was about to be engulfed by lava, had carried his sick wife outside to escape the certain destruction. Because people had panicked so early in the report, they failed to see the crudely drawn sign held up at the end of the segment, which read “April Fool.”

As the newscast ended, the hosts, Mary Richardson and John Henning, joked about the stunt and the public was left hanging. Privately, however, they both seemed unaware. “Very few people at the station knew about it,” Henning said. “I didn’t see it until it hit the light of day. Both Mary and I realized when we saw it that it missed the mark. It wasn’t done the way an April Fools’ gag should have been done. It was too graphic.”

By the late evening newscast at 11 p.m., a public apology had been issued. Within 24 hours the 33-year-old executive producer of the 6 p.m. news, Homer Cilley, was fired by the station for “his failure to exercise good news judgment” and for violating the Federal Communications Commission’s rules about showing stock footage without identifying it as such. Robert Williamson, the general manager of the station, said, “The conception and execution of that segment exhibited an enormous lack of news judgment.” And Cilley himself said that the firing was “fully justified.”

“I did it, it was my responsibility, and it’s something I will have to bear alone,” he said.

Cilley later explained, “We picked the wrong kind of topic. The intention was to put together a kicker, a humorous show-ender. I thought of the volcano bit and, well, it just didn’t come off. I underestimated the public shock.”

It will go down as one of the top failed April Fools pranks of all time. The FCC began an immediate investigation. Arthur Ginsburg, chief of complaints and compliance for the FCC, said, “If a situation like this causes serious harm to a number of people or a serious possibility of harm, then it becomes an important matter, the kind for which a station could lose its license.” Ginsburg continued, “If a number of people were disturbed enough to call the police and took it seriously, then it has to be a matter of concern for the commission.”

And before we jump to conclusions and say, “Well that is just ridiculous,” consider for a moment that the best pranks are the ones rooted in a germ of truth. In fact, the Blue Hills Reservation sits on top of an ancient volcano. This volcano was active around 440 million years ago. Deep underneath the volcano was the “magma chamber,” which supplied the magma. Eventually this volcano erupted and collapsed, and the magma chamber slowly cooled. This formed granite and other granite-like rocks. Yeah, it was news — hundred of millions of years ago!

For what it’s worth, while Milton residents devolved into panic, in Canton, where we have a pretty good view of Big Blue, not a single call was logged into Canton Police. I’m not saying we’re smarter, but Cantonites are savvy enough to look out the window and see if the news is actually happening.

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Posted by George T. Comeau on Mar 31 2016. Filed under Features. Both comments and pings are currently closed.