War of the Worlds - Halloween 1938

On October 30, 1938, an army of Martians attacked Grover's Mill, New Jersey. You will not read this in the history books, yet, amusingly, it is part of our history. The memory of that non-event tells us a lot about who we were in the latter days of the Great Depression, and in some respects, how little we have changed in our dependence on the media, our conditioned response to panic and what happens to us and our view of the world when our worst fears materialize.

Halloween may be all about goblins, but our worst fears have changed a bit since those days. We are less innocent now, and have reason to be. Despite our hard-learned grimmer perspective, it is not really fair to look back on "The War of the Worlds" hoax with ridicule for those poor folks who were fooled. It was not really a hoax, but entertaining radio drama. Rising star Orson Welles produced and directed the CBS Mercury Theatre, and turned H.G. Wells' old chestnut into a modern simulated news broadcast.

A dangerous blurring of the lines, for more than an entertainment vehicle in those Depression days, radio became a voice out of the dark that connected us to the world. The month preceding the broadcast was an especially dark one, clouded by the threat of war during the Munich Pact crisis when Hitler's troops marched into Czechoslovakia. Radio in these days barked many sudden announcements on the Pact's progress, on Hitler's progress. Grave and startling news came over the airwaves constantly, putting the public on edge. That is probably why many believed the sudden, shrill announcement that something foreign and unknown had landed on a farm in Grover's Mill. We felt insecure in those days just before World War II, suspecting that anything could happen, perhaps about to happen.

The radio script of "War of the Worlds" had several station breaks interrupting the action, telling listeners that this was obviously only a play. Ironically, however, the fact that the Mercury Theatre was not as popular a program as its rival on NBC, the "Chase and Sanborn Hour," virtually set up the belief that the Martian invasion was real. Listeners tuned into the first few minutes of "Chase and Sanborn" to hear favorites Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy, then when the commercial came on, switched over to the Mercury Theatre, not unlike our modern channel surfing. Many listeners were fooled having missed the announcement that they were listening to fiction.

What they heard was a news announcer in the field losing control, shrieking a description of heaven knows what into the microphone before he was cut off, then a second studio announcer reporting, "We are bringing you an eyewitness account of what's happening on the Wilmuth Farm, Grover's Mill, New Jersey."

It sounded like the Hindenburg disaster of the previous year. Thousands of Americans believed, and they panicked. Places of worship were visited by desperate people seeking comfort at what they thought was the end. Telephone switchboards jammed.

If they had stayed by their radios until the end of the program, they would have heard Orson Welles sign off saying, "...and if your doorbell rings and nobody's there, that was no Martian! It's Halloween."

Welles had shouted "boo" that Halloween, and everybody jumped. We live paradoxically in a world now where almost anything really can happen. The thought of mass panic is scary probably because we know it is never too far below the surface. It is a part of human nature, but so is imagination.

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