The day the world 'ended': Radio show 80 years ago pushed panic ...

Years before the term “fake news” was coined, a seemingly innocent radio broadcast demonstrated the real definition — and caused panic in the streets.
Today marks the 80th anniversary of the national radio broadcast of “The War of the Worlds,” which was misunderstood by many listeners as an actual attack by Martians. An estimated 9 million to 12 million Americans were frightened by the broadcast, including some in Jacksonville.
The broadcast on CBS Radio was a dramatic interpretation of the 1898 novel of the same name by British author H.G. Wells. In an era before television, radio was a prime form of entertainment and thousands of Americans tuned in to hear news bulletins, live music, political addresses and dramatic readings.
“The War of the Worlds” was the 17th broadcast of the CBS series “The Mercury Theatre on the Air.” Its ratings, though, sorely lagged behind the popular NBC program “The Chase and Sanborn Hour,” which featured ventriloquist Edgar Bergen, in its 8 p.m. Sunday time slot.
The Mercury Theatre was a non-sponsored show, meaning there were no commercials in the hour-long slot. Producers at CBS, as well as actor Orson Welles, who is best known for his 1941 classic “Citizen Kane,” created an adaptation of Wells’ work with a setting in New Jersey against a backdrop of simulated live news bulletins.
As listeners tuned in that evening, they heard Welles introduce the play and read a weather report before switching to orchestra music, said to be live from New York. The fictional nature of the broadcast was announced before, and as many as four times during the program, but many people apparently never heard it.
As a result, some listeners were surprised when the music shifted to a breaking news bulletin that “at 20 minutes before 8, Central Time, Professor Farrell of the Mount Jennings Observatory” in Chicago reported “several explosions of incandescent gas, occurring at regular intervals on the planet Mars.”
The report claimed “the spectroscope indicates the gas to be hydrogen and moving toward the Earth with enormous velocity.”
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The music resumed before more news bulletins and interviews, along with a “live” news report from Grover’s Mill, New Jersey, where a meteorite reportedly had crashed. A shocked reporter said, “I hardly know where to begin. … I guess that’s the thing buried in front of me, half-buried in its vast pit.”
Minutes later, the same announcer breathlessly reported the emergence of a Martian and told the audience, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most terrifying thing I have ever witnessed. … Someone’s crawling out of the hollow top.” The creature was said to have a “V-shaped” mouth with “saliva dripping from its rimless lips that seemed to quiver and pulsate.”
Sounds of screams and explosions followed, with the announcer screaming “the whole field’s caught fire … it’s spreading everywhere.” Since there were no breaks in the show for nearly a half-hour, the suspense only built as more news bulletins told the story of a spreading Martian attack.
In succeeding reports, Martians were said to have destroyed New Jersey state militia, power stations, infrastructure and communications before spreading into New York City, where more destruction and havoc followed.
Despite the repeated announcements of the true nature of the broadcast, “The War of the Worlds” threw many into hysteria. Some raced into the streets while others gathered around family or headed to church for prayer in their “final hours.”
Law enforcement officials were up in arms as switchboards lit up nationwide, particularly in the East. Scattered suicide attempts were reported, while one young woman in New York reportedly broke her arm as she fell as she tried to flee.
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Even in Jacksonville, there was alarm.
In a 2013 interview, Lou Ellen Lemmons, a former Jacksonville resident who now is 100 years old, remembered hearing the broadcast during her job at Winston’s Cafe, a local diner.
The manager quietly told the staff, who eagerly awaited updates as the broadcast told of the terror. Lemmons said she called an aunt to warn her of the invasion and recalled the relief in the room when they learned the true story, saying “we were royally duped.”
Lemmons noted that some co-workers covered their embarrassment by claiming they “never really believed” the story.
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Though the hysteria was largely in the East, there was plenty of alarm elsewhere in Illinois. Southeast of Peoria in Mackinaw, a minister ended his Sunday evening services early, telling his congregation that “an alarming news broadcast has just come over the radio, and I suggest that you all go to your homes, where you can better keep in touch with events.”
In Decatur, the switchboard of the daily Herald & Review was “kept busy for nearly 45 minutes” from people fearing an invasion from Mars. One girl was reported to be “hysterical and under the care of a physician.” Switchboard operators in small towns also were overwhelmed, including in the Montgomery County seat of Hillsboro, where the operator “said she could not handle all the calls for a time.”
In Bloomington, the Pantagraph reported that “for several minutes (its) switchboard was swamped with calls,” though apparently the callers kept their wits about them. The paper added that “there was no known panicky feeling in Bloomington” though “one woman, who later heard the explanation of the skit, called back to apologize for having called in the first place.”
To the south in Alton, a railroad turntable operator named John Maxey was reported to have been “uneasy by the realism” of the broadcast and “even went out of doors to peer at the eastern sky for signs of the conflagration (or) catastrophe.”
Though the episode remains legendary in American culture, recent researchers argue that reaction to “The War of the Worlds” has been embellished, based on the low ratings of The Mercury Theatre as well as letters received by CBS, The Mercury Theatre staff and the Federal Communications Commission. Of the 1,770 letters documented by CBS, some 1,086 were positive, as were 91 percent of mailings to The Mercury Theatre production staff.
Among the compliments was a note to the FCC from a 12-year-old Rockford boy, who wrote, “I enjoyed the broadcast of Mr. Welles. … I heard about half of it but my mother and sister got frightened and I had to turn it off.”