When Orson Welles Frightened a Nation: The War of the Worlds Broadcast and Its Legacy
When Americans picked up the February 3, 1940 issue of The Saturday Evening Post, they held more than just another weekly magazine in their hands. They were staring into the life of a young man who had already changed the way America thought about truth, imagination, and media. This particular issue carried a striking article titled “How to Raise a Child: The Disturbing Life—To Date—of Orson Welles” — a dramatic portrait of the boy prodigy whose 1938 “War of the Worlds” radio broadcast had terrified millions and demonstrated the awesome, and sometimes dangerous, power of mass communication.
For readers in the United States, this was more than a celebrity profile. It was a cautionary tale about how a single voice on the airwaves could stir panic, challenge authority, and remind a nation already bracing for world war that ideas and imagination could be as potent as armies.
The winter of 1940 was a moment of tension and uncertainty. The world beyond America’s shores was engulfed in World War II, but the United States had not yet joined the conflict. At home, the nation was still recovering from the Great Depression, clinging to hope while grappling with deep social and economic change.
It was also the age of radio, when millions of families gathered around living room sets each evening to hear news, entertainment, and stories that shaped their worldview. In this environment, Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds” broadcast on October 30, 1938 became one of the most shocking media events in American history. Framed as a series of urgent news bulletins, the broadcast convinced countless listeners that Martians had landed in New Jersey. Panic spread from city to countryside. Some fled their homes, others prayed, and newspapers the next day blared stories of mass hysteria.
The Saturday Evening Post article arrived just over a year later, giving readers not only the biography of Welles but also an analysis of what his life and career meant for America. This was not simply a profile of a precocious young artist. It was a meditation on the fragility of public trust in a media-driven world — a theme that carried enormous weight as nations fought propaganda battles overseas.
By 1940, The Saturday Evening Post was the most widely read magazine in the United States. Its editors understood how to weave fiction, art, humor, and cultural commentary into a single package that reflected the pulse of American life.
The Welles article exemplified this mission. It painted him as both genius and enigma: a child who skipped innocence, a young man who performed Shakespeare like a veteran, and a radio wizard who could make an entire nation believe in alien invasion. Photographs in the issue captured Welles mid-performance, his hand raised in the studio, his face alive with intensity — a man who seemed to live entirely inside imagination.
For Americans who had never seen him on stage or screen, The Post became their window into Welles’ world. Just as Life Magazine used photography to bring the war into homes, The Post used storytelling to bring personalities, anxieties, and national conversations into focus.
The effect was electrifying. Readers saw not just a wunderkind, but a mirror of their own time — a young America, creative and bold, but also reckless, experimental, and vulnerable to persuasion.
The cover of the February 3, 1940 issue, created by artist John Phillips, fit The Post’s tradition of illustrating ordinary American life. While the cover provided warmth and familiarity, inside the magazine readers encountered the unsettling reality of Orson Welles. This contrast between cover art and inner narrative was a hallmark of The Post — comforting the reader on the outside while challenging them within.
The Welles feature itself blended reportage, cultural analysis, and biography. Johnston and Smith’s article walked readers through his upbringing, his rebellious schooling, and his theatrical innovations. Most importantly, it dissected the “War of the Worlds” broadcast, explaining how Welles’ Mercury Theatre blurred the line between fact and fiction with stunning effectiveness.
The message was clear: The Saturday Evening Post was not only a magazine of light entertainment. It was a magazine that captured the anxieties and hopes of America at critical moments.
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The Boy Prodigy – Welles was depicted as a child who painted sets, performed Shakespeare, and debated philosophy when most children were still memorizing spelling lists.
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The Radio Revolution – His “War of the Worlds” broadcast became the central focus, illustrating how media could disrupt daily life and spark panic.
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The Blurred Line Between Reality and Fiction – The article underscored how listeners believed what they heard, even in the absence of proof, raising deep questions about trust in modern communication.
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The Psychological Profile – Welles was portrayed as equal parts showman and manipulator, leaving readers to wonder whether his genius was inspiring or dangerous.
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The Future of Media – Implicit in the article was a warning: if one broadcast could cause such chaos, what could happen in an age of global war, propaganda, and mass persuasion?
Together, these highlights created not just a biography, but a commentary on the power of words and technology to shape human behavior.
For collectors, the February 3, 1940 issue of The Saturday Evening Post holds exceptional value.
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Historical Timing – Published just before Welles released Citizen Kane (1941), it captures him at a pivotal crossroads, on the cusp of cinematic greatness.
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Cultural Significance – The article is one of the earliest in-depth national profiles of Welles, documenting his impact before Hollywood immortalized him.
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Visual Appeal – The photographs and layout reflect The Post’s signature style, blending illustration, photography, and text in ways that are highly prized by collectors.
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Artifact of Media History – Above all, this issue is not just about Orson Welles. It is about the moment America realized that media could terrify, persuade, and transform society overnight.
Owning this magazine is like holding a piece of the American imagination at its most vulnerable and its most daring.
The Post remains one of the most important cultural witnesses of 20th-century America. Its covers, stories, and essays provide a living archive of how ordinary Americans saw themselves, their nation, and the world. The Welles issue stands out because it doesn’t just entertain — it challenges readers to question their own assumptions.
In a world where propaganda and persuasion were soon to become weapons of war, The Post gave Americans a preview of just how fragile truth could be. That is why these vintage Saturday Evening Post magazines remain so valuable to collectors, historians, and families who want to reconnect with their past.
If you’re inspired by this issue and want to see more, browse our collection of original Saturday Evening Post magazines. From the early 20th century through the postwar years, you’ll find stories, art, and commentary that together form a mosaic of American life.
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Original Saturday Evening Post Magazines
The February 3, 1940 issue of The Saturday Evening Post, featuring “How to Raise a Child: The Disturbing Life—To Date—of Orson Welles,” is one of the most compelling cultural documents of its era. It captured the paradox of a young genius who thrilled and terrified America in equal measure, and it reflected the nation’s own uncertainty on the eve of war.
Holding this issue today means holding the story of a broadcast that shook a nation, a personality that defined an age, and a magazine that chronicled it all with clarity and style.
For anyone who values history, culture, or the evolution of media, this is not simply a collectible magazine. It is a living artifact of American imagination and fear, preserved in print for generations to study, admire, and reflect upon.