Subtitles section Play video Print subtitles You're probably familiar with a rock and roll type of Zeppelin. But there was a time when the original Zeppelins, flying dirigible airships named after the German count who invented them, ruled the skies for both warfare and passenger flights in the early 20th century. These flying bags of hydrogen were an engineering marvel and popular mode of air travel until the Hindenburg came crashing down just before World War II. Today, we're exploring strange, fascinating facts about the Hindenburg disaster. But before we get started, be sure to subscribe to the Weird History channel and let us know in the comments below what other historical disasters you would like to hear about. OK, let's go see what was behind Oh, the humanity. [SUSPENSFUL MUSIC] The story of the LZ-129 Hindenburg is fairly well known as part of modern history. Once the world's largest airship, the massive flying machine was one of Germany's rigid dirigible airships colloquially known as a Zeppelin. Although they were popular war machines during World War I, the Hindenburg was actually a passenger airship making its way to Manchester Township, New Jersey, on that fateful night in 1937. Containing 16 large bags full of flammable hydrogen gas in its envelope, the ship was basically a flying explosion waiting to happen. As the Hindenburg made its final approach, tragedy struck. The Zeppelin caught fire, then slammed into a tower, bursting into flames, and crashed onto the landing field below. The crash of the Hindenburg led to the deaths of 35 of the 97 passengers, including the fatality of at least one of the ground crew. And it all began with a thunderstorm. The Hindenburg's commander, Captain Max Pruss, decided to delay landing due to the storm. And when it began to pass, the ship dropped its landing ropes about 180 feet from the ground just before the incident that ignited the fire. Most witnesses saw the first flames at 7:25 PM, and the fire quickly spread over the next minute consuming the airship. Some reports say that once the airship caught fire, it took 32 seconds from the initial signs of distress to the subsequent crash landing. But what went wrong? Whether it was a stray lightning bolt, static electricity, or even a bit of good old fashioned anti-Nazi sabotage, the fate of the Hindenburg captured public imagination largely thanks to the eyewitness testimony of a reporter who was present at the time and disturbing footage of the disaster. [MUSIC PLAYING] The hydrogen on the Hindenburg was a fast-burning gas that held the ship aloft as it flew through the sky. It was relatively safe, but as soon as the airship's skin caught fire, it quickly ignited the gas. Out of the 97 people aboard the airship as it was engulfed in flames, only 13 passengers, 22 crewmen, and a single worker on the ground actually died during the disaster. Per several accounts of the mayhem, some passengers were forced to leap from the airship in an attempt to save themselves. Because the ship was close to landing, they were near the ground, so some of the jumpers did survive the ordeal. Other jumpers met an untimely end when they either did not survive the jump, or the burning airship landed on top of them. Surprisingly, many of the casualties were not burn victims, as only two unlucky people succumbed from burns. These two passengers were very likely close to the fire's origin, one survivor, Werner Doehner, told People Magazine, a few years before he passed, a harrowing account of the ordeal. As his family sat in the port side dining room to watch the landing, the airship approached the mooring mast and dropped its landing ropes. His father disappeared to another deck for a replacement roll of camera film when the fire struck. Doehner told the AP, "Suddenly, the air was on fire. My mother took my brother and threw him out. She grabbed me and fell back and then threw me out. She tried to get my sister, but she was too heavy, and my mother decided to get out by the time the Zeppelin was nearly on the ground." He lost his father and sister in the disaster, but his mother survived with a broken hip. Doehner was burned on his face, both hands, and down his right leg below the knee. The nurse gave him a needle to pop has blisters once the family made it to the infirmary. Speaking in 2017, Doehner reflected on the disaster. "The internet and social media has exposed and attracted the interest of a younger generation," he said, "The Hindenburg is something you don't forget." The last survivor of the Hindenburg disaster passed two years later. [MOURNFUL MUSIC] Doehner was right when he said no one will forget the Hindenburg. But no matter how horrible the Hindenburg disaster was, it was not the most deadly airship crash at the time. That dubious honor goes to the USS Navy airship USS Akron. The Akron stumbled into a violent, turbulent storm in 1933 and crashed somewhere off the coast of New Jersey. Sounds like New Jersey was a dangerous place for aircraft in the '30s. In the aftermath of the Akron disaster, only three passengers survived. 73 of the crew perished, only secondary to the 48 lives lost in the 1930 crash of the British military airship R101. [MUSIC PLAYING] While Chicago radio station reporter Herbert Morrison is famous for his emotional first-person account of the Hindenburg disaster, Chicago residents didn't hear his recording until later that night. Americans nationwide didn't learn of the disaster until the following day. Morrison's amazing reporting caught the public's ear, and his audio report became a media fixture accompanying newsreels and footage of the disaster. His comment, Oh, the humanity, became a recognizable phrase around the world, enduring to this day. But that's only a small part of Morrison's original broadcast, which told a more complete story. "It's burst into flames... oh my, this is terrible... It is burning, burst into flames and is falling on the mooring mast and all the folks we... This is one of the worst catastrophes in the world! Oh, the humanity and all the passengers!" [MUSIC PLAYING] Taking a trip across the Atlantic on the Hindenburg was a costly affair. The total cost of a one-way ticket between Europe and America in 1936 was a regal $400, which, adjusted for inflation, comes to around $7,000. The price increased to 450 in 1937. A ride in this airship was certainly aimed at the upper class, but that didn't stop it from making other appearances like at a certain athletic tournament in Berlin. And what the Nazis considered a triumph of their own propaganda, the Hindenburg made a cameo at the 1936 German Olympics. Olympic stadium spectators, along with approximately 3 million German citizens, watched the airship travel 750 feet above the ground during the summer Olympics, performing a show for about an hour or so. As to what kind of a show a Zeppelin performs, it basically just flies back and forth. Hey, it's something to watch. During its first public flight in 1936, the airship distributed leaflets and swastika flags over the cities of Germany. Flying in formation alongside other airships at the time, the ship supported a referendum calling for the reoccupation of Rhineland made up of a loosely defined area in Western Germany along the Rhine River. As if the weather weren't already bad that day due to the deluge of leaflets, the airship also played patriotic music and some other propaganda over its loudspeakers as it flew. In fact, Germany's minister of propaganda, Joseph Goebbels, wanted to name the dirigible after Hitler. Luckily Dr. Hugo Eckener, who was the head of the Zeppelin company at the time, was staunchly anti-that and instead named the airship for late German president Paul von Hindenburg. Man, what a difference a name makes. On its maiden voyage that same year, a few other notable things happened. The airship crossed the Atlantic in only 2 and 1/2 days. Pretty good speed at the time, as most ocean liners made the same journey in five. And it held the first Catholic mass ever to be done while traveling through the air. [MUSIC PLAYING] Unlike your modern coach class flight where even thinking about lighting a cigarette we'll get you in trouble, smoking was allowed on board the airship. They even had a special room for it. It was pressurized to prevent any of the flammable hydrogen gas from infiltrating the room. It was a bit of a ceremony, too, since a steward escorted smokers into the room and monitored them to ensure safety. Leaving the smoking lounge with any kind of lit pipe or cigarette was strictly prohibited. When you're riding on a ship containing seven million cubic feet of hydrogen gas, a smoking lounge probably isn't the best idea. But the airships designers put one in anyway. Of course, passengers weren't allowed to bring their own matches or lighters, but they could buy what they needed, including cigarettes and Cuban cigars, once they were on board. Safety first. [MUSIC PLAYING] Zeppelins were the original airmail carriers. Capable of traveling above the ocean at a constant height and distance, the airships were perfectly suited to the task. And the last voyage of the Hindenburg was no exception. The airship carried an estimated 17,000 pieces of mail, most of which met a fiery end in the disaster. 176 pieces of mail survived the destruction due to being stored in a protective container. Despite charring in the blaze, the mail could still be read. It was postmarked four days after the airship was destroyed and is surprisingly desirable among modern collectors. One surviving letter sold that was previously unknown to collectors went on sale via Cowan's auction on November 19, 2020, for an asking price of $7,000. [PIANO MUSIC] Riding on the Hindenburg was a fancy way to travel in style. The airship's owners wanted to feature live music during flights but had to adhere to weight restrictions and couldn't put live musical shows inside the Zeppelin. Turning to famous piano-making firm Julius Bluthner, they commissioned a special lightweight baby grand piano for use onboard. Made almost entirely of aluminum, the 400 pound piano was covered in yellow pigskin. It was only used for the airship's inaugural flying season and wasn't on board during the disaster. At its weight, the piano was light enough to have no effect on the flight of the airship. On its first flight to America in 1936, a prominent pianist named Franz Wagner gave several concerts for the passengers, playing works by Chopin, Liszt Beethoven, Brahms, and the popular music of the time. For whatever reason, the piano did not appear on many Hindenburg flights. It was removed in 1937, put on display in a factory, and unceremoniously destroyed in a 1943 air raid when a bomb blew up the factory in which it was being displayed. [SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC] In 1937, both German and American accident investigators determined the Hindenburg fire started by way of an electric spark that ignited upon reaching unexpectedly leaking hydrogen. Some believe the electric spark story is merely a theory. At first, much speculation centered on the idea the Hindenburg was intentionally set on fire in a daring act of anti-Nazi sabotage. Following the disaster, rigid airships were no longer used for commercial air transportation, but many questions about the disaster remain to this day. Various theories surround the cause of the Hindenburg disaster, and the long specter of doubt still casts its shadow over exactly how the fire started to this day. One account comes from ground crew member Robert Buchanan who had been manning the mooring lines when the Hindenburg caught fire. Seeing one of the airship's engines backfiring, he hypothesized that the airship's outer layer was ignited by engine sparks. Another ground crewman, Robert Shaw, reported a blue ring he thought may have been leaking hydrogen, which may have been ignited by sparks generated in the ship's engine. In a more modern theory, retired NASA rocket fuel propulsion engineer Addison Bain believes the cause may have been in the coating covering the airship. With the help of documents supporting his theory, Bain posed that the envelope contained a non-conductive butyl-based coating that prevented the electrical charge from dissipating as it should have. The ship was coming down from a much higher angle than ever before, and the built-up electrical charge ignited the covering. Bain uncovered a 1937 letter from the Zeppelin company to the paint manufacturer with their concerns about tests where the paint readily ignited under an electrostatic discharge. And later tests by the wireless telegraph and atmospheric electrical experiment station, they concluded the aluminum paint coating suffered from poor conductivity when applied to the outer skin of an airship envelope. Bain's research is not without its detractors, though. A noted airship historian, Dan Grossman, tends to disagree. He noted that while it's possible, it isn't the most likely explanation. And it doesn't change the fact that a giant airship was obliterated in less than 60 seconds. Grossman holds there is only one true mystery of the disaster, what was the cause of the leaking hydrogen. As he told Live Science, "We know that hydrogen was leaking and that it was ignited probably by an electrostatic discharge caused by the weather-- there was a thunderstorm at the time of the landing." Regardless of what actually transpired that fateful day in 1937, the world of flying would never be the same again, and the great flying airships of the early 20th century became one gigantic gaseous memory. So what do you think? What really caused the Hindenburg fire? Let us know in the comments below. And while you're at it, check out some of these other videos from our Weird History.
B2 US disaster zeppelin fire hydrogen landing music Facts About the Hindenburg and Its Untimely Demise 8 1 joey joey posted on 2021/05/22 More Share Save Report Video vocabulary