Nov 18 2024
In Episode 228, we examine Orson Welles’ groundbreaking War of the Worlds broadcast and its lessons on innovation and the ethical complexities of storytelling.
In Episode 228 of Anecdotally Speaking, Mark recounts the story of Orson Welles’ infamous 1938 radio broadcast of War of the Worlds.
Welles’ daring experiment in storytelling propelled him to fame, reshaped his career, and raised questions about the power and responsibility that come with crafting compelling narratives.
Mark and Shawn discuss the innovative techniques Welles employed, the unintended consequences of the broadcast, and the parallels to challenges like fake news and ethical communication in organisations.
The episode offers insights into the dual nature of storytelling: its ability to engage and inspire, but also to mislead.
You can subscribe to the Anecdote newsletter here
For your story bank
Tags: Storytelling, Innovation, Ethics, Communication
This story starts at 1:08
On Halloween night in 1938, Orson Welles, a 25-year-old actor and director, walked into a recording studio on Madison Avenue in New York City. He was already a rising star, having appeared on the cover of Time magazine, and was known for his creativity and flair for the dramatic. That night, he would oversee a live broadcast of H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, adapted for radio as a 30-minute drama.
Welles had assembled a team of 10 actors and a 27-piece orchestra for the production. The format was groundbreaking: the story was presented as a series of live news bulletins, giving the illusion of real-time reporting. Early in the program, a disclaimer was made that the broadcast was fictional, but many listeners tuned in late and missed it. What followed was a story so convincing that it caused widespread panic.
The broadcast described explosions on Mars and an alien invasion in New Jersey. Listeners heard a “journalist” choking on poisonous gas and a “witness” describing the Martians’ heat rays and devastating attacks. These scenes were so vividly performed that they sounded like genuine news reports, and the illusion was amplified by the fact that radio was a relatively new and trusted medium for breaking news.
For 30 minutes, the broadcast unfolded with meticulous detail before breaking for an announcement clarifying it was fictional. However, by that point, the damage was done. Police stations and National Guard units in New Jersey were flooded with calls from panicked citizens. People ran into the streets, certain they were under attack.
The next day, newspapers—threatened by radio’s growing influence—seized the opportunity to discredit the medium, publishing sensational headlines about the hysteria. They even called for the FCC to sanction Welles and the program. Welles held a press conference, apologising and claiming he had no idea the broadcast would have such an effect. However, years later, Welles admitted that they had hoped to provoke a strong reaction.
The incident made Welles a household name and secured him one of the most extraordinary contracts in Hollywood. RKO Pictures granted him full creative control over his films, leading to the creation of Citizen Kane, often regarded as the greatest film ever made.
In Episode 228 of Anecdotally Speaking, Mark recounts the story of Orson Welles’ infamous 1938 radio broadcast of War of the Worlds.
Welles’ daring experiment in storytelling propelled him to fame, reshaped his career, and raised questions about the power and responsibility that come with crafting compelling narratives.
Mark and Shawn discuss the innovative techniques Welles employed, the unintended consequences of the broadcast, and the parallels to challenges like fake news and ethical communication in organisations.
The episode offers insights into the dual nature of storytelling: its ability to engage and inspire, but also to mislead.
You can subscribe to the Anecdote newsletter here
For your story bank
Tags: Storytelling, Innovation, Ethics, Communication
This story starts at 1:08
On Halloween night in 1938, Orson Welles, a 25-year-old actor and director, walked into a recording studio on Madison Avenue in New York City. He was already a rising star, having appeared on the cover of Time magazine, and was known for his creativity and flair for the dramatic. That night, he would oversee a live broadcast of H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, adapted for radio as a 30-minute drama.
Welles had assembled a team of 10 actors and a 27-piece orchestra for the production. The format was groundbreaking: the story was presented as a series of live news bulletins, giving the illusion of real-time reporting. Early in the program, a disclaimer was made that the broadcast was fictional, but many listeners tuned in late and missed it. What followed was a story so convincing that it caused widespread panic.
The broadcast described explosions on Mars and an alien invasion in New Jersey. Listeners heard a “journalist” choking on poisonous gas and a “witness” describing the Martians’ heat rays and devastating attacks. These scenes were so vividly performed that they sounded like genuine news reports, and the illusion was amplified by the fact that radio was a relatively new and trusted medium for breaking news.
For 30 minutes, the broadcast unfolded with meticulous detail before breaking for an announcement clarifying it was fictional. However, by that point, the damage was done. Police stations and National Guard units in New Jersey were flooded with calls from panicked citizens. People ran into the streets, certain they were under attack.
The next day, newspapers—threatened by radio’s growing influence—seized the opportunity to discredit the medium, publishing sensational headlines about the hysteria. They even called for the FCC to sanction Welles and the program. Welles held a press conference, apologising and claiming he had no idea the broadcast would have such an effect. However, years later, Welles admitted that they had hoped to provoke a strong reaction.
The incident made Welles a household name and secured him one of the most extraordinary contracts in Hollywood. RKO Pictures granted him full creative control over his films, leading to the creation of Citizen Kane, often regarded as the greatest film ever made.