Grover's Mill

Grover's Mill doesn't really exist anymore. The mill itself is long gone, and the town that bore its name is now barely a neighborhood--just a few houses and a lawnmower shop around a pond. But over seventy years, on October 30, 1938, Grover's Mill was the talk of the nation, thanks to Orson Welles.

Grover's Mill is now part of West Windsor Township, New Jersey, and just a few miles from where I live. I took advantage of some nice weather and took a hike to Van Nest Park, which is the epicenter of all things Grover's Mill. Erected there a few years ago is a monument to that night so long ago, when Orson Welles and his Mercury Theater aired a radio broadcast of H.G. Wells' The War of the Worlds. The broadcast aired as a simulated newscast of a Martian invasion, and some (the total is in dispute) believed it to be true, and some panic ensued. Welles took a lot of heat for it, apologized profusely, but in some ways it made him a star.

Why Grover's Mill? I seem to recall, though I can't find verification of it quickly, that Welles (who moved the action from Wells' England to the U.S.) chose the town by sticking a pin in a map, but perhaps he was drawn to the similarity to the name of Thornton Wilder's Our Town--Grover's Corners. It's proximity to Princeton gave Welles the employer of his narrator, and it was close enough to major cities New York and Philadelphia to make it resonate. But for whatever the reason, the little crossroads in central New Jersey ended up mobbed with people, to see for themselves if there really Martians in their midst. A water tower, which still stands (just behind the lawnmower shop), was supposedly shot at by overzealous citizens, mistaking it for a Martian spaceship.

The monument was erected a few years ago, along with a Martian-themed celebration, in an attempt to generate some tourism and in the spirit of letting bygones be bygones. The plaque includes language suggesting that the October night of so long ago has taught the media responsibility, but that's a dubious statement. The bas relief sculpture is kind of cheesy, but in its own way kind of awesome, in that it's a monument to a community that got hoodwinked and embarrassed. "Fool us once," it seems to be saying. Some don't forgive so quickly. A friend's grandfather, who lived nearby, referred to Welles as an SOB for years.