On Halloween eve in 1938, mass hysteria descended upon New Jersey as CBS Radio broadcast a narrative adaptation of Victorian-era science fiction novel The War of the Worlds. Listening to the live radio play, many people became convinced that Martians were attacking Earth, in New Jersey, and killing huge numbers of Americans. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the show’s narrator began, “we interrupt our program of dance music to bring you a special bulletin.” A huge, flaming meteorite had crashed into farmland at Grover’s Mill, twenty-two miles north of Trenton, listeners were told.
Frank Readick, playing Carl Phillips, a CBS reporter claiming to be physically on scene, delivered a breaking report: “The object doesn’t look very much like a meteor,” Phillips said, his voice shaky. “It looks more like a huge cylinder. The metal casing is definitely extraterrestrial!” Things quickly moved from harmless to malevolent and Phillips began to scream: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most terrifying thing I have ever witnessed! Someone’s crawling out of the hollow top!” Phillips explained that extraterrestrial beings had begun wriggling their way out of the crashed craft, revealing bodies as large as bears’ but with snakelike tentacles instead of limbs. The woods were ablaze, Phillips screamed. Barns were burning down, and the gas tanks of parked automobiles had been targeted to explode. Radio listeners heard wailing and then silence, indicating the newsman was now dead. Next, a man solemnly identified himself as the secretary of the interior and interrupted the report. “Citizens of the nation,” he declared, “I shall not try to conceal the gravity of the situation that confronts the country.” Scores were dead, including members of the New Jersey police force. The U.S. Army had been mobilized. New York City was under evacuation orders. Interplanetary warfare had begun.
Although the 8:00 p.m. broadcast had opened with a brief announcement that the story was science fiction and based on the novel by H. G. Wells, huge numbers of people across America believed it was real. Those who turned their radio dials for confirmation learned that other radio stations had interrupted their own broadcasts to follow the exclusive, live CBS Radio coverage about the Mars attack. Thousands called the station and thousands more called the police. Switchboards jammed. Hospitals began admitting people for hysteria and shock. Families in New Jersey rushed out of their homes to inform anyone not in the know that the world was experiencing a Martian attack. The state police sent a Teletype over their communications system noting the broadcast drama was “an imaginary affair,” but the hysteria was already well beyond local law enforcement’s control. Across New York and New Jersey, people loaded up their cars and fled. To many, it was the beginning of the end of the world.
The following morning, the New York Times carried a page-1, above-the-fold story headlined “Radio Listeners in a Panic Taking War Drama as Fact.” Across the nation, there had been reports of “disrupted households, interrupted religious services, traffic jams and clogged communications systems.” All through the night, in churches from Harlem to San Diego, people prayed for salvation. In the month that followed, more than 12,500 news stories discussed the War of the Worlds broadcast. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) opened an investigation but in the end decided not to penalize CBS, largely on the grounds of freedom of speech. It was not the FCC’s role to “censor what shall or shall not be said over the radio,” Commissioner T. A. M. Craven said. “The public does not want a spineless radio.”