Memorandum, William J. Mitchell (DOJ) to Attorney General Francis Biddle re Lessons from Chicago Tribune Case, June 17, 1942

Source: Memorandum, William J. Mitchell (DOJ) to Attorney General Francis Biddle re Lessons from Chicago Tribune Case, June 17, 1942 Date: Jun 17, 1942 Archive: NARA, RG-60, Case File 146-7-23-25, box 1, file: “Serial 3, June 13-June 20, 1942.” Collection: Secrecy And Leaks: When The U.S. Government Prosecuted The Chicago Tribune Oct 25, 2017

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Editorial Analysis

Original analysis by the DriftSeas editorial desk. The complete primary-source document, transcribed from the National Security Archive scan, appears in full below.

A Wartime Leak in the Age of Total War

The memorandum dated June 17, 1942 is a routine‑sounding internal DOJ note, but it crystallizes a moment when the United States’ expanding war‑press apparatus collided with the legal strictures of the Espionage Act. William D. Mitchell, then Assistant Attorney General for the Criminal Division, wrote to Attorney General Francis B. Biddle after the Chicago Tribune published a front‑page dispatch by correspondent John Johnston describing the Battle of Midway. The article had been filed under the assumption that clearance from the Office of Censorship – the civilian body that issued the “Code of Wartime Practices” – was sufficient. Mitchell’s memo argues that, because the correspondent had been embedded on a Navy vessel, the article should have first passed through Navy censorship, a step the Tribune skipped.

The memo was produced in the immediate aftermath of the Midway engagement (June 4‑7, 1942), a turning point in the Pacific war that the administration was eager to publicize for morale while simultaneously shielding operational details. The Tribune’s decision to run the story without Navy review triggered a legal review under Section 31(d) of the Espionage Act, which criminalized the disclosure of “information relating to the national defense” to unauthorized persons. Mitchell’s analysis therefore served two purposes: (1) to advise Biddle on how to tighten procedural safeguards for embedded journalists, and (2) to lay the groundwork for a potential prosecution of the newspaper, should the Department decide to pursue the case.

The Broader Context of Press‑Military Relations

During World War II the United States instituted a layered censorship regime. The Office of Censorship, created in December 1941, issued a voluntary “Code of Wartime Practices” that newspapers pledged to follow. Simultaneously, each service branch maintained its own classification and censorship procedures for material gathered by accredited correspondents. The Chicago Tribune episode exposed a gap: the civilian code did not explicitly state that Navy‑embarked reporters were still subject to service‑level review. Mitchell’s recommendation to insert a paragraph clarifying that the code does not supersede “special requirements” reflects an effort to harmonize the two systems.

The memo also reveals the bureaucratic friction that characterized wartime information control. Mitchell notes that “only experts in the Navy Department are qualified to detect the objectionable features” of a combat‑area report, implicitly critiquing the civilian censor’s technical expertise. He further observes that the Navy lacked a formal regulation obligating correspondents to submit their copy for review, relying instead on ad‑hoc agreements. The absence of a signed agreement by Johnston, the Tribune’s correspondent, became a tactical loophole that the newspaper could exploit in any defense.

Why the Document Matters Today

First, the memorandum illuminates the legal calculus behind the government’s decision to prosecute (or not prosecute) the press for security breaches. While the Tribune was ultimately indicted under the Espionage Act, the case was dismissed in 1945 after the war ended, a decision that set a precedent for the limited peacetime use of the act against journalists. Mitchell’s memo shows that the administration’s strategy hinged on procedural minutiae—whether a Navy‑level clearance had been obtained—rather than on the substantive content of the article.

Second, the memo foreshadows contemporary debates over “embedded journalism.” The same tension between military operational security and the public’s right to know that animates today’s coverage of conflicts in Iraq, Afghanistan, and beyond can be traced to the procedural ambiguities Mitchell identified. The recommendation for a standing Navy regulation and a codified clause in the civilian code anticipated the post‑war “Joint Publication 3‑13” guidelines that now govern embedded reporting.

Finally, the document underscores how wartime crises can accelerate the institutionalization of secrecy. The push to revise the Code of Wartime Practices just days after Midway demonstrates that major battles often serve as catalysts for policy change. By linking a single newspaper article to a broader overhaul of censorship policy, the memorandum reveals how the government leveraged high‑profile leaks to tighten control over the flow of information.

In sum, Mitchell’s June 17, 1942 memorandum is more than an internal memo; it is a window onto the legal, bureaucratic, and strategic forces that shaped U.S. wartime press policy. Its recommendations reverberated through the post‑war era, influencing how the United States balances national security with a free press—a balance that remains contested in the digital age.

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