In this episode of Dave Does History, we’re traveling back to October 30, 1938—the night that a single radio broadcast turned America upside down. Orson Welles, an ambitious young director, took to the airwaves with a dramatization of H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds, and before the night was over, countless Americans believed their world was under attack by Martians.
From Welles’ inventive approach to the ensuing public panic and media frenzy, we unpack the event that showed the immense power—and sometimes danger—of broadcast media. How did a fictional radio play grip the nation in fear? What lessons did it leave behind for today’s media-driven world? Tune in as we recount the unforgettable story of The War of the Worlds broadcast and its impact on history, media, and public trust.
Good evening, and welcome to Dave Does History, where we venture into the events that shook this country—events that show just how deep our belief in a moment can go. Today, we’re turning back the clock to October 30, 1938. Picture it: a crisp Halloween Eve, folks all over America relaxing at home, tuning into the evening’s radio programming. But tonight’s broadcast wouldn’t bring typical news or theater. No, this would be something else entirely, something that would bring fear and confusion to communities across the nation. By the end of the night, Americans would wonder if they were truly safe, if their world was coming to an end—because, for a few terrifying hours, they believed that Martians had landed in New Jersey.
How did this happen? It all started with a young man named Orson Welles.
Before Citizen Kane catapulted him into Hollywood fame, Orson Welles was an ambitious 23-year-old directing the Mercury Theatre. Known for pushing limits and embracing the avant-garde, he and his troupe had a Sunday night slot on CBS Radio—a time usually reserved for straightforward radio plays and adaptations. The Mercury Theatre was known for its creative takes on literature, and this Halloween, Welles wanted something bold, something that would keep audiences on the edge of their seats. So he picked The War of the Worlds, H.G. Wells’ 1898 novel about an alien invasion.
Now, The War of the Worlds wasn’t just any novel. H.G. Wells, a British writer and one of the fathers of science fiction, used it as a social commentary, a way to question the arrogance of empires—like Britain itself. To an American audience in 1938, this story wasn’t directly political, but the tension in the air was palpable. Europe was on the brink of war, and people were jittery. So, Welles decided to bring this Martian invasion to American soil—literally.
The evening of October 30 arrived, and at 8 p.m., listeners tuned into The Mercury Theatre on the Air expecting the usual entertainment. But there was no opening monologue, no familiar music. Instead, they heard a news bulletin about strange explosions on the surface of Mars. And then…back to regular programming.
A few minutes later, another “news” interruption reported that an unidentified object had crashed into a farmer’s field in Grover’s Mill, New Jersey. Then came a breathless reporter describing the scene: tall, tentacled aliens emerging from the craft, firing heat rays, destroying everything in their path. These “breaking reports” were spliced with eerie music, cutting back and forth between chaos in Grover’s Mill and calm studio banter, giving listeners the impression that something real was unfolding, live and terrifying.
For those who tuned in late and missed the opening disclaimer that this was a drama, the chaos sounded like genuine news. People were riveted—and then horrified.
What happened next is the stuff of legend. Families gathered around their radios, frozen in disbelief. People started calling friends, shouting, “Did you hear? Aliens have landed!” Some people called the police, others ran into the streets, and in some communities, folks packed up and fled. Stories soon circulated that people were having breakdowns, even loading firearms, ready to face whatever came out of the New Jersey darkness.
The extent of the “mass panic,” however, is still debated. Historians have since suggested that the actual hysteria may have been somewhat exaggerated by the newspapers of the day. Why? Well, the newspapers were locked in a fierce rivalry with radio, which was becoming a preferred medium for news and entertainment. This incident gave them the perfect opportunity to discredit radio as reckless and unreliable.
In the days that followed, the public was outraged. Newspapers ran headlines accusing Welles and CBS of inciting panic, calling for censorship of radio broadcasts and labeling radio as a dangerous medium. The Federal Communications Commission, or FCC, also issued stern warnings, discussing the importance of broadcast responsibility.
Orson Welles, now a household name, held a press conference. He put on a show, giving a dramatic “apology” that walked a fine line between sincerity and showmanship, claiming he had no idea people would take it seriously. But the damage—or perhaps we should say, the legend—was done. Welles became the man who had “fooled America,” setting the stage for a career that would cement his fame and infamy.
The War of the Worlds broadcast remains one of the most potent reminders of the power of media. It showed just how easily people could be swept up in a manufactured reality, something we see even more in today’s age of viral information and media. Think about it—today, a single tweet or post can cause outrage, panic, or even fear. The line between fact and fiction, truth and entertainment, has only grown thinner.
Orson Welles’ broadcast went down in history as a pioneering moment that would inspire later formats like the “mockumentary” and “found footage” films—productions that blur the lines and leave the audience questioning reality. Without Welles, we might never have had The Blair Witch Project or The Office.
So, here’s where it leaves us. What Welles pulled off in 1938 wasn’t just a Halloween trick. It was a wake-up call, a reminder of how much trust we place in our media. In 1938, radio carried that influence. Today, it’s social media. But the core lesson remains the same. We are moved by what we hear and see, especially in moments of uncertainty. The War of the Worlds reminds us that we must question, verify, and think for ourselves.
As we sign off tonight, maybe take a moment to reflect on what’s changed since 1938—and what hasn’t.
DAVE DOES HISTORY 
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