Early provided reporters with regular updates as more journalists filed into the cramped pressroom. After each announcement, reporters who did not have direct lines dashed for the two telephone booths designated for their use. At 4:09 p.m., NBC had successfully installed a microphone and became the first network to broadcast live from the pressroom at the White House. CBS followed with its broadcast two hours later.
As reporters were about to leave his office following a 4:30 briefing, Early asked “if there is any one of you reporting for Japanese agencies.” If there was, he said, “I am giving you no information and I have asked the Secret Service to take up the credentials of Japanese correspondents.” Reporters asked him if their Japanese counterparts would be arrested. Early answered obliquely, “That is an activity of the Department of Justice.”7
By 5:00 there were nearly one hundred reporters, radiomen, and newsreel and still photographers in the pressroom. Newspapers, eager to feed the public’s hunger for information, were printing extra editions. “The world wanted the news of Pearl Harbor and new details when they were available,” Smith recalled.8
Yet despite the press corps’ frenzy of activity—all the major radio stations reported news of the attack within thirty minutes—the information spread slowly. Twenty-three years later, when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, 92 percent of the public knew what had happened within two hours of the shooting. Within five hours, nearly every American—99.8 percent—knew that Kennedy was assassinated. There were no comparable studies done in 1941 documenting how the news of Pearl Harbor spread, but anecdotal evidence suggests that it leaked out gradually over the course of the afternoon.9
Only a small number of Americans were listening to the radio when the first Pearl Harbor announcements were made. In the 1940s, it was typical for middle-class Americans to eat dinner around 1:00 p.m. on Sunday. Many families living in the East and Midwest were gathered around the dinner table or relaxing after a big meal. Most of the nation was also experiencing nice weather on December 7. More people than usual were outside, going for afternoon drives in the country, walking in the park, attending football games, or catching a matinee at the local movie theater.
Despite the enormity of the news, many organizations chose not to release it. At Washington’s Griffith Stadium, management chose not to make an announcement to the 27,102 fans attending the Redskins game with the Philadelphia Eagles. Among those in attendance was a young ensign named John F. Kennedy. The owner later explained, “No announcement of hostilities was made because it is against the policy of the Redskins management to broadcast non-sports news over the stadium’s public address system.”10
But the crowd must have sensed that something important had happened by the succession of important people who were being summoned by the public address system. About halfway through the first quarter, the speakers blared, “Admiral W. H. P. Bland is asked to report to his office at once!” Bland was the chief of the Bureau of Ordnance of the navy. A few minutes later came another announcement: “The Resident Commissioner of the Philippines, Mr. Joaquim Elizalde, is urged to report to his office immediately!” The reports continued throughout the game, but most fans were focused on the goalposts, not the public address system. They stayed until the very end and watched the Redskins win in dramatic fashion. Not until after they left the stadium did most learn about the attack.11
In Chicago, the first flash came just as many locals were digesting their traditional dinner of roast beef and mashed potatoes. According to one reporter, the city “was just getting ready for a good after dinner belch when the war news came.” Those who were at home with the radio on canceled their afternoon plans and listened for updates. Others would learn about the news only later. Theater owners made the decision not to interrupt crowded matinee showings. Moviegoers learned the news only when they stepped outside and heard the newsboys shouting inaccurately, “U.S. Declares War on Japan.”12
In Southern California, the thermometer climbed near eighty degrees, with bright sunshine overhead. Many people were taking advantage of the nice weather by spending time out of the house and away from the radio. Much of the conversation in coffee shops, in restaurants, and on the sidewalks that late morning was about how the UCLA Bruins had managed to play the superior USC Trojans to a 7–7 tie the day before. There was no dramatic moment when everyone heard the news. Instead, it spread over a series of hours. “There was no hue and cry on the public streets where the outdoor loving were bound for their Sunday pleasures,” noted reporter Sidney James. The news “moved through backyard gardens, across golf courses, into bars . . . and finally to the beaches of the fateful Pacific.”13
Radio broke the story, but it was the telephone that helped spread it over the course of the afternoon. Phone lines across the nation jammed as people called family members and friends to share the news. Because there were no direct-dial phones in 1941, every call had to be placed manually by switchboard operators. A deluge of calls quickly overwhelmed them. There were one-hour delays on all calls into Chicago. In San Francisco, the rush of calls crashed the phone system. No one was able to get calls through to Hawaii or the Philippines, although it was unclear on Sunday whether that was because of military censorship or overwhelming demand. Western Union reported a flood of cables to Honolulu and Manila.14
In addition to radio and telephone, the other major source of news was daily newspapers. Major newspapers called in reporters to cover the story and produce “extra” Sunday-afternoon editions. The Atlanta Journal came out with an extra at 4:40 p.m. The city’s other leading paper, the Constitution, followed with its own “extra” a few minutes later. In Chicago, the Herald American hit the streets two hours after the news was announced on the radio. At the Los Angeles Times office, the AP reporter heard the flash warning at 11:30. It produced an afternoon edition that rolled off the press at 2:10 p.m. with four-inch block letters crying “WAR.” On a Sunday, the typical Times circulation was 25,000 copies. By that evening, it had sold 150,000 papers.15
Newsboys standing on street corners hawking the “extras” made a small fortune on December 7. “We sold the three-cent paper for twenty-five cents and higher, whatever the market could handle,” recalled a precocious thirteen-year-old.16
Perhaps because most Americans were not aware of the extent of the damage inflicted, or the number of casualties, they seemed to take the attack in stride. Oddly enough, many radio networks reported that their phone lines were jammed with callers. Most of the calls, however, were not from people asking for more information about the attack on Pearl Harbor, about the potential for sabotage, or about the imminent declaration of war. Instead, they simply wanted to know when their favorite shows, which were now being preempted by news, would be rebroadcast.17
A reporter for the Kansas City Times reported that the city maintained “a business-as-usual calm” in the hours after the story broke. The main reason, he speculated, was that most people did not learn of the attack until the newspaper boys started shouting the headline on Sunday evening as they pushed late editions on street corners. “Although bulletins had been flashed on the radio, many persons apparently were engaged in Sunday afternoon pursuits that had prevented their learning previously of the news.” The custodian of the Liberty Memorial, dedicated to the fallen soldiers of World War I, reported a typical Sunday crowd of 3,000 visitors that day. He recalled only one person mentioning the attack. Local theaters made the announcement, but most people responded by settling in and watching the movie.18
The fairly calm public response was due in part to the prevailing belief that Japan represented little threat to America. Most Americans clung to widely held notions of Japan as a third-rate military power that was no match for the United States. Before the attack, Gallup asked if the United States would win a war with Japan, and 92 percent said yes. Only 1 percent said no. When asked if the U.S. Navy was “strong enough to defeat the Japanese Navy,” 80 percent said yes, and only 4 percent said no.19
There was so little hard information available that most people reached their own conclusions about the extent of the damage. Given their views of Japanese inferiority, and the confidence in the impregnable Pearl Harbor, Americans remained optimistic. A restaurant chef told the Los Angeles Times, “The Japanese must know what they’re up to. But from early reports it seems they didn’t accomplish any major objective. Once we start fighting it won’t last long.” An upholsterer agreed: “Lord help those Japanese when our planes begin dropping bombs on some of those paper and wood cities. They’ll start an inferno that will spread over all Japan. It won’t last long.”21
Most Americans did not make an immediate connection between the attack in Hawaii and the war in Europe. In most of the interviews conducted on Sunday, people spoke only about the likelihood and necessity of America’s going to war against Japan. Few seemed to recognize that the attack made America part of a worldwide struggle that would involve war on two fronts. Some Americans assumed the story was a hoax. With Orson Welles’s famous 1938 “War of the Worlds” broadcast of an invasion from Mars still fresh in their memories, many people were determined not to be fooled again. When a New Jersey reporter stopped a man walking his dog and asked him for his reaction to the news about Pearl Harbor, he responded, “Ha! You’re not going to catch me on another of your pranks.” In Los Angeles, a reporter for the Times stopped at a local restaurant on his way to do a story from an army base and found that no one had heard the news, and when told, they assumed it was a joke. Most pretended not to hear and went on eating. He noticed that most of the drivers on the road seemed equally oblivious to the news. “It’s a peaceful Sunday drive for them, with nothing worse than a traffic snarl to worry about,” he observed. Even the guards who greeted him at the army post were unaware that the nation would soon be at war.22
By early evening, however, the initial calm and confidence that greeted the news gave way to fear. As day turned into evening and the newsboys’ cries of “war extra” filled the streets of cities across America, the reality of war became impossible to ignore. Front-page headlines screamed the news. “WAR!” covered the top of the late edition of the Philadelphia Record. The New York Times was more restrained: “JAPAN WARS ON U.S. AND BRITAIN.”23
The anxiety was greatest in Hawaii, where many people wondered whether the assault on Pearl was a prelude to a land invasion. Shortly after the attack, military authorities took to the airwaves to provide civilians with instructions. “Stay off the streets, get your car off the street, do not use the telephone except in cases of extreme emergency, seek shelter, boil all water in case of contamination.” Shortly afterward came a call for all doctors, police officers, nurses, disaster squads, and Pearl Harbor workers to report to their stations. Officials told plantation owners to plow open fields in order to prevent Japanese planes from landing. At 4:30 p.m. the governor announced that he had imposed martial law on the island.
Many people defied the warnings to stay off the streets, as they gathered on street corners and in drugstores and taverns to share the latest rumors. There were numerous unconfirmed reports of Japanese paratroopers dispersed over the island. One radio report claimed the Japanese had landed at Diamond Head. Another said that Waikiki Beach had been overrun with Japanese troops. There were also false reports that the entire north shore of Oahu was occupied and that both Pearl Harbor and Schofield Barracks were in Japanese hands. “Long lines had formed at all grocery stores and there was a mad rush as semi-hysterical people tried to buy everything on the shelves,” noted an observer. “Bakeries were short of flour and yeast and the meat markets were down to their last hamburger.”24
There were rumors that Japanese pilots who had been shot down carried American money in their pockets and tokens for using the public transportation system in Oahu. One pilot who was supposedly shot down was more than six feet tall—too tall to be Japanese. Since his body was burned beyond recognition, the word spread that he was German.25
Many of the rumors were picked up by the wire services and rushed into extra editions of newspapers across the country. The Oakland Tribune ran a large headline in its second extra on Sunday evening announcing “Parachute Troops Seen over Harbor.”
The military repeated the rumors, giving them an air of credibility. Throughout the day, officials reported sightings of Japanese saboteurs wearing “working-blue coveralls with red circles on breasts,” troop landings, and enemy aircraft dropping parachutes over Honolulu. A report at 11:40 local time stated, “Parachute Troops have landed on north shore & have been identified as wearing blue coveralls with RED DISC ON LEFT SHOULDER.” At 12:05, military officials told of a “hostile force” that was “attempting to swim ashore,” but being repelled by U.S. troops. At 2:30 p.m., the navy stated that one or two hundred parachutists had landed at Barbers Point. A few minutes later came a call that a force of enemy planes had flown over the island and been repelled by navy forces.26
By late afternoon, the military had investigated many of the supposed sightings and proven them false. At 4:00 p.m., the 27th Infantry stated that “all reports of enemy activity in Honolulu area have been investigated and found false.” But even as the old claims were being discredited, new ones came flooding in. As late as 10:00 p.m., there were reports that bombs had been dropped at Pearl Harbor and enemy troops had landed in northern Oahu.27
Though false, the information became part of official intelligence estimates about Japan’s capability and intent. On Sunday evening, under the heading of “Summary of Enemy Situation,” military officials reported “four or five transports,” one battleship, and three aircraft carriers off the coast of Hawaii. There were “numerous reports that parachutists landed throughout the island,” along with a “few individual attempts at sabotage.” The intelligence estimate predicted that Japan was planning a full-scale invasion that evening. “It is not improbable that the enemy will attempt to demolish Pearl Harbor and our entire air force prior to attempting a landing in force. Small landing parties may attempt to force landings on favorable beaches tonight during darkness.”28
In response to these false reports, General Short sent an alert to army commanders in Hawaii that the Japanese were attempting to invade and occupy Oahu. Soldiers took up defensive positions along the Oahu shoreline and prepared for the onslaught. Not wanting to provide a potential Japanese air raid with easy shooting targets, the army ordered a complete blackout for that night. It also forced all cars off the road, except those authorized by the police. Any cars that went on the road had to go to the local police station and have their headlights painted blue. People were ordered to stay in their homes. All stores, bars, and restaurants were closed, and the sale of alcohol was banned.29
Anxiety levels were also high on the West Coast, where public officials assumed that the same Japanese armada that launched the attack on Pearl was now approaching the mainland. Lieutenant General John DeWitt ordered troops to stand guard every fifty yards along the beach near San Francisco and look for signs of Japanese submarines. In San Francisco, streetlamps were turned off. Air raid sirens sounded. A panicky General DeWitt told newsmen that Japanese aircraft had been spotted in the skies over the city. “I don’t think there’s any doubt the planes came from a carrier,” he said.30
Worry was not limited to the West Coast and Hawaii. In New York, Mayor La Guardia declared the attack the direct result of the “Nazi technique of mass murder.” People knowledgeable about world affairs, he declared, know that Nazi “thugs and gangsters” had orchestrated the attack. He warned residents tha
t they should not feel secure just because they were on the eastern seaboard.31
During his 3:00 p.m. meeting with his foreign policy advisers, FDR had made it clear that he wanted censorship of the press. But it took a few days for formal procedures to be put into place. In the meantime, the administration kept a tight control on information. Press secretary Steve Early instructed government departments, including the War Department, that all information to the press had to come from the White House. He made clear there would be no further updating of casualty figures beyond the 104 dead and “slightly over 300 wounded” that had already been announced. During the day, he held regular briefings with reporters, updating them on the president’s activities, but carefully avoiding any discussion of specific casualty figures or damage reports.32
The administration could control the flow of information, but it could not stop the spread of rumors or prevent people from asking questions. At his press briefings on Sunday, reporters quizzed Early about the damage at Pearl Harbor, pointing out that they were hearing many different, and often conflicting, stories. At 5:15 p.m., for example, NBC reported that 350 men were killed at Hickam Field alone. Early, however, refused any comment.33
CBS radio broadcaster Eric Sevareid, whose calm and reasoned coverage of the crisis in Europe had made his one of the most recognized and respected voices in America, was now sitting in the White House pressroom covering America’s entry into the conflict. He told his listeners on Sunday evening that credible but unconfirmed reports were floating around that the damage at Pearl was extensive and far more severe than the White House acknowledged. “Now there is one report which I must give you which is not at all confirmed—a report which is rather widely believed here and which has just come in,” he said in his soft, unassuming voice. “And that is that the destruction at Hawaii was indeed very heavy, more heavy than we really had anticipated. For this report says that two capital ships of ours have been sunk, that another capital ship has been badly damaged, and the same report from the source says that the airfield hangars there in Hawaii were completely flattened out and that a great many planes have been damaged.” Sevareid went on to remind listeners again that the report was “unconfirmed,” but said that “it has come in from a fairly reliable source and many reporters here indeed believe it.”34
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