Explore every episode of the podcast Radio Diaries

In the spring of 1981, the Pawtucket Red Sox and the Rochester Red Wings met for a minor league baseball game of little importance. But over the course of 33 innings—8 hours and 25 minutes—the game made history. It was the longest professional baseball game ever played. 

This story was produced in collaboration with ESPN's 30 for 30.

In the 1990s, Arch Coal began mountaintop removal mining in a corner of West Virginia called Pigeonroost Hollow. There used to be dozens of houses in the area, but within a few years there was just one. It belonged to Jimmy Weekley.

This story originally aired on NPR in 2011.

This week we're sharing a story from the audio magazine Signal Hill.

The story, "What's Inside the Moon," is about the poet Kenneth Koch and a group of elementary school students he taught to write poetry in the 1960s. Half a century later, producer Jess Shane tracked down the students to ask what poetry had meant for their lives.

You can find more stories from Signal Hill at SignalHill.fm.

This week we're featuring an episode of Phonograph, a podcast that deconstructs the history and art of audio storytelling.

The hosts of Phonograph recently invited Radio Diaries' Joe Richman on their show to talk about "24 Hours at the Golden Apple," a classic episode of This American Life that he helped produce. The Golden Apple is a diner in Chicago, and back in 2000, a group of producers took shifts hanging out there over 24 hours and talking to as many people as they could. Joe's story focused on the friendship between two high school students, Danielle and Allison, who he met during his shift.

Here's an excerpt of Phonograph where Joe talks about making this story, and what it's like to listen back to it more than two decades after it first aired.

A few years ago we did a story about Martha Lillard, a woman who had spent most of her life sleeping in a device called an iron lung. Martha had caught polio in the early 1950s, and, like many polio survivors, she had difficulty breathing on her own. Her iron lung was a big metal ventilator that fit her entire body inside and used bellows to suck air in and out, helping her to breathe. Martha was the last person in the U.S. to use one.

Martha Lillard died on June 26, 2026. As a remembrance, we're revisiting our story about her.

Fifty years ago, a group of schoolchildren in South Africa changed history.

For decades, the whites-only government of South Africa had brutally enforced a policy of racial segregation known as apartheid—and had crushed any opposition just as ruthlessly. By the 1970s, an entire generation of anti-apartheid fighters had been silenced. May were imprisoned or killed.

But on June 16, 1976, students in Soweto township outside Johannesburg decided to hold a protest against a government policy mandating that all classes be taught in Afrikaans, the language of South Africa's rulers.

This is their story.

This year marks 30 years since we first worked with teenagers to record stories about their lives. 

Over the years, people have often asked us, whatever happened to them? What happened to Juan, Amanda, Melissa, Frankie, and Josh?

We’re going to find out.

In honor of three decades, we’re setting out to make a new series with our original teenage diarists. And we’re turning to you, our listeners, for help. 

If you donate now you’ll get an exclusive look behind the scenes as we make these stories. And for the next two weeks we have a generous match, so every dollar you contribute will be doubled: www.radiodiaries.org/donate 

This week on the show, we’re revisiting Juan’s teenage diary, and have a sneak peek of Joe’s recent trip to see him in Colorado.

When it comes to the space race, we all know names like Neil Armstrong and Yuri Gagarin. But in most moments in history, there are a few names that fall through the cracks. One of those names is Ed Dwight.

When Ed Dwight was selected to train to become an astronaut, many thought he would become the first Black man to go to space. But Ed faced some unexpected hurdles. Today on the show, we bring you his story.

This episode includes topics and archival audio that some people will find disturbing.

Seventy-five years ago, on the night of May 7th, 1951, close to a thousand people gathered around the courthouse in the small town of Laurel, Mississippi. They came to witness an execution. Willie McGee was a young Black man who had been accused of raping a white woman and sentenced to death.

Six decades later, Bridgette McGee-Robinson teamed up with Radio Diaries to find the truth about what happened to her grandfather.

From ancient myths of sea monsters lurking below to Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, the ocean has long been both a source of fear and fascination. For Captain George Bond, a Navy medical officer in the 1960s, the deep sea was humanity's next frontier. Undersea agriculture, deep sea mining, and human colonies on the ocean floor made up his dream for the future. 

Today we bring you the story of the U.S. Navy's little-known experiment building homes on the ocean floor. They called it, Sealab.

This week we're bringing you a story from our friends at History This Week, a podcast from the History Channel.

April 3, 1951. A man who escaped slavery is grabbed off the streets of Boston and thrown into a carriage. He fights back, shouting to the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. Under a new federal law, even the North isn’t safe.

The Fugitive Slave Act has turned cities like Boston into hunting grounds. Freedom seekers are being captured, and ordinary citizens are being forced to help.

But across the North, resistance is growing. In Pennsylvania, a man named William Parker is building a network to fight back. When slave catchers come to his door, that resistance explodes into violence.

How did one law push the country dramatically closer to war? And what happens when the people targeted by this law refuse to surrender?

Last week, Leqaa Kordia, young Palestinian woman from Paterson, New Jersey, walked out of an ICE detention center in Texas. Kordia had been held for more than a year. 

Radio Diaries has been following her story and recorded Kordia while detention. Now, we bring you her first interview since her release. 

When the Hollywood classic, Casablanca, was released in 1943, moviegoers were thrilled by the love story. Humphrey Bogart stars as the cynical owner of Rick’s Cafe, a nightclub in Morocco. Ingrid Bergman is his old flame, Ilsa, now married to Victor Laszlo, a dashing resistance leader hunted by the Nazis.

Many of the characters at Rick's Café are European refugees trying to make their way to America. What most viewers didn't know is that those characters were played by actors who themselves had recently fled the Nazis. This casting choice lent the film an authenticity that helped deliver its message: that a war far from our borders was a war worth waging.

This is the final episode of our series about Isaac Woodard, a Black soldier who was beaten and blinded by a white police officer in 1946. In the last episode, radio host Orson Welles, who was investigating the case, learned the officer's identity.

Isaac Woodard himself told a reporter, "Nothing they can do to the police officer will give me my eyes back, but if they punish him good and legal it may keep the same thing from happening to some more of our boys coming back home. I want him punished."

But demanding accountability and getting it were two different things—especially in the Jim Crow South. This week, the officer goes to trial, and the President of the United States takes notice.

Last week, we shared the story of Isaac Woodard, a Black soldier who was brutally beaten by a white police officer in South Carolina. No one knew the name of the police officer. Or even the town where it happened. Not even Woodard himself. 

By the summer of '46, the case was gaining national attention thanks to Orson Welles, who was investigating the crime, week-by-week, on his radio show.

Today, episode 2 of our series Orson Welles and the Blind Soldier, about an incident in a small, southern town that became a spark in the growing civil rights movement. 

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Thanks to Richard Gergel for his book Unexampled Courage and Indiana University’s Lilly Library for archival audio. Music from Matthias Bossi and Duke Ellington. 

On February 12, 1946, a Black soldier was heading home from WWII when he was brutally beaten by a white police officer in South Carolina. No one knew the identity of the police officer. No one even knew the town where it happened.  

When the famous radio host Orson Welles heard about the crime, he pledged to solve the mystery, week-by-week, on the air. 

Today, episode 1 of our new series Orson Welles and the Blind Soldier, about an incident in a small, southern town that led to the desegregation of the U.S. military. 

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Thanks to Richard Gergel for his book Unexampled Courage and Indiana University’s Lilly Library for archival audio. Music from Matthias Bossi and Bill Frisell for music.

On February 12, 1946, an African American soldier heading home from WWII was attacked by a white police officer somewhere in South Carolina. The soldier's name was Isaac Woodard.

No one knew the identity of the officer who attacked Woodard. No one even knew which town it had happened in. So when the famous radio host Orson Welles heard about the case, he vowed to solve it on the air.

Radio Diaries and Radiotopia bring you a new series about a crime in a small southern town that led to the desegregation of the United States military.

The first episode drops February 12th on the Radio Diaries Podcast.

A little over a decade ago, we went to interview a woman at her small one-bedroom apartment in a sprawling complex in the Bronx. She was living a quiet and somewhat anonymous life. But many years earlier, she had done something remarkable.

The woman’s name was Claudette Colvin. In 1955, she was a 15-year-old girl growing up in Montgomery, Alabama. On March 2nd of that year, Colvin refused to give up her seat to a white passenger on a public bus, and was arrested. This was nine months before Rosa Parks would do the exact same thing. But while Rosa Parks became an icon of the Civil Rights movement, Colvin spent most of her life in obscurity.

Claudette Colvin passed away this week, at age 86. We’re remembering her by revisiting the story we did with her in 2015.

Looking for love is an art, not a science. People have been trying to crack the code, with mixed success, for a long time. 

This week we're going back to the 1960s, when a couple Harvard students had an idea.

Businesses had started using a new technology called the computer to process payroll or match a client with the right type of insurance. What if these same computers could be used to get a date? 

This is the story of the very first computer dating service, Operation Match.

Today on the show, we sit down with photographer Andrew Lichtenstein to discuss his new book, THIS SHORT LIFE, which combines photo essays with audio testimonies about 12 Americans, from a West Virginia coal miner to a Maine farmer, all united by how the struggles of their past have shaped their present. You'll hear audio testimony from some of the people in the book.

Buy THIS SHORT LIFE here. 

If you liked this story, find more of our work at radiodiaries.org and follow us on Bluesky, Instagram and Facebook @radiodiaries.

To support our work, go to www.radiodiaries.org/donate. 

In April 2024, over 100 students were arrested during protests outside Columbia University, calling for a ceasefire in Gaza. Leqaa Kordia, a young Palestinian woman living in Paterson, New Jersey, was one of them.

Kordia was let go after the protests. But months later, ICE officials took her into custody and put her on a plane to a detention facility in Texas. Kordia has now been detained there for more than seven months. She is the last Columbia protestor still in detention.

Kordia's cousin, Hamzah Abushaban, talks to Kordia through a detention phone line almost every day. Today on the show, we'll hear one of those phone calls.

Paula Bernstein and Elyse Schein were both born in New York City and adopted as infants. When they were 35 years old, they met and found they were “identical strangers.”

This story originally aired on NPR in 2007. 

Liked this story? Donate and find more of our stories at www.radiodiaries.org. Follow us @radiodiaries on Bluesky and Instagram. 

This is the story of a song, "Ain't No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down." It was written by a 12-year-old boy on what was supposed to be his deathbed. But the boy didn't die. Instead, he went on to become a Pentecostal preacher, and later helped inspire the birth of Rock & Roll. 

The boy's name was Brother Claude Ely, and he was known as The Gospel Ranger.

In the early 1970s, author Studs Terkel interviewed the owners of Duke & Lee's Auto Repair in Geneva, Illinois, for his bestselling book, Working. He went to talk to them about fixing cars. What he found was a story about fathers and sons working together, and the tensions within a family business. 

We went back to Duke & Lee's four decades later and found the family business still intact—tensions and all.

That was nine years ago. Recently, we heard that the family, and the auto shop, had gone through some big changes. So we got back in touch.

This week, the story of a family and their business at three moments in history.

When you spend so much of your life moving around, getting to the next chapter, what's it like to find yourself in the last place?

This week, we revisit audio diaries from a retirement home.

Eighty years ago, on July 28, 1945, an Army bomber pilot on a routine ferry mission found himself lost in the fog over Manhattan. A dictation machine in a nearby office happened to capture the sound of the plane as it hit the Empire State Building at the 79th floor.

Fourteen people were killed. Debris from the plane severed the cables of an elevator, which fell 79 stories with a young woman inside. She survived. The crash prompted new legislation that—for the first time—gave citizens the right to sue the federal government.

When we first met Majd Abdulghani, she was 19 years old, living in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. We gave her a recorder to keep an audio diary about her life. 

Majd chronicled her dreams of being a scientist, her resistance to having an arranged marriage, and what it was like to be a teenage girl living in one of the most restrictive countries in the world for women. Her story first aired in 2016.

A lot has changed in Majd’s life over the past nine years. Last year, she completed her doctorate at Oxford University, where she was Saudi Arabia’s first Rhodes Scholar. She and her husband have a four-year-old daughter, and they recently moved home to Saudi Arabia after several years abroad.

Saudi Arabia has changed a lot, too. Back in 2016, women weren’t even allowed to drive. Now they can. And many more women have careers now—including Majd. She’s now a successful scientist working for a company based in Riyadh.

We recently met up with Majd while she was in Boston for a conference. Here's her diary from 2016, along with our conversation about how things have changed since then.

Vaccines have been in the news recently. Over the last few weeks, Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has changed vaccination recommendations and gutted an influential committee that recommends which shots Americans should get. Some experts worry that these changes could lead to outbreaks of diseases the US has long had under control.

So this week, we're revisiting a story we made a few years ago about the world's very first vaccine, and the disease it helped eradicate: smallpox.

Smallpox was around for more than 3,000 years and killed at least 300 million people in the 20th century. Then, by 1980, it was gone.

Rahima Banu was the last person in the world to have the deadliest form of smallpox. In 1975, Banu was a toddler growing up in a remote village in Bangladesh when she developed the telltale bumpy rash. Soon, public health workers from around the world showed up at her home to try to keep the virus from spreading. This is her story.

To justify mass deportations, President Trump has invoked an old wartime law: the Alien Enemies Act of 1798.   

The Alien Enemies Act was last used after America’s entry into World War II. In response to the Axis countries’ detainment of Americans who were deemed potential spies, the Roosevelt Administration came up with an elaborate plan: find and arrest Germans, Japanese and Italians living in Latin America and detain them in camps in the U.S.  The government would use them to exchange for American prisoners of war.

Liked this story? Find photos and more at radiodiaries.org. You can also support our work by going to radiodiaries.org /donate. 

Follow us on X and Instagram @radiodiaries. 

It's been 50 years since the end of the Vietnam war. In honor of the anniversary, we're revisiting a story about a notorious American military prison on the outskirts of Saigon, called Long Binh Jail.  

LBJ wasn’t for captured enemy fighters—it was for American soldiers. These were men who had broken military law. And there were a lot of them. As the unpopular war dragged on, discipline frayed and soldiers started to rebel.

By the summer of 1968, over half the men in Long Binh Jail were locked up on AWOL charges. Some were there for more serious crimes, others for small stuff, like refusing to get a haircut. The stockade had become extremely overcrowded. Originally built to house 400 inmates, it became crammed with over 700 men, more than half African American. On August 29th, 1968, the situation erupted.

Author James Baldwin once wrote, "I love America more than any other country in the world and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually."

On this episode, we go back to 1932 when a group of World War I veterans set up an encampment in Washington, D.C., and vowed to stay until their voices were heard. It was a remarkable chapter in American history, and a demonstration of the power of citizens to come together for a cause. This is the story of the Bonus Army.

On July 19, 1963, at least 15 Black girls were arrested while marching to protest segregation in Americus, Georgia. After spending a night in jail, they were transferred to the one-room Leesburg Stockade and imprisoned for the next 45 days.

Only twenty miles away, the girls' parents had no knowledge of their location. A month into their confinement, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) heard rumors of the girls' detention and sent photographer Danny Lyon, who took pictures of them through barred windows. Within days, these photographs appeared in publications around the country.

As the girls' ordeal gained national attention, they were released without charges. This is the story of the 'Stolen Girls.' 

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To see more photos by Danny Lyon, visit bleakbeauty.com and Instagram.

This week we're featuring a story from a brand new audio magazine we've been listening to called Signal Hill.

"Pie Down Here" features oral history interviews with farmworkers and Communist Party members who organized a sharecroppers' union in Alabama during the Great Depression. The interviews were recorded by historian Robin Kelley for his book, Hammer and Hoe.

You can learn more about Signal Hill and check out the rest of their first issue—eight original stories—at signalhill.fm.

In 1939, Time Magazine called Dorothy Thompson a woman who “thinks, talks and sleeps world problems — and scares men half to death.”  They weren’t wrong. 

Thompson was a foreign correspondent in Germany in the years leading up to World War 2, and she broadcast to millions of listeners around the world. She became known for her bold commentaries on the rise of Hitler. The Nazis even created a “Dorothy Thompson Emergency Squad” to monitor her work. She was an eloquent and opinionated advocate for the principles of democracy. But by the end of the war, those strong opinions put her career in jeopardy. 

This is the story of the woman who tried to warn the world. 

These days, we’re used to media that thrives on conflict and amplifies the most outrageous voices in the room. It's something we often trace back to shock jocks, like Howard Stern, and in-your-face talk show hosts like Tucker Carlson and Rush Limbaugh. But before all those guys, there was Joe Pyne.

At the height of his career in the 1960s, the New York Times called him “The ranking nuisance of broadcasting.” Today, episode two of our series Making Waves: The Original Angry Talker. 

In 1934, the Washington Post called Elder Lightfoot Solomon Michaux, the “best known colored man in America.” He was known as the Happy-Am-I Preacher. His Sunday services were broadcast to over 25 million listeners on CBS radio. Black America saw Michaux as a leader for racial harmony and progress. But during the civil rights movement, his reputation took an unlikely turn.

This is episode 1 of our new miniseries Making Waves, three profiles of people who pushed the boundaries of radio. They used the microphone in different ways: one to warn, one to rile, one to preach. What they had in common is they were all controversial, they spoke to huge audiences in their time, and today, they’re largely forgotten.

From ancient myths of sea monsters lurking below to Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, the ocean has long been both a source of fear and fascination. For Captain George Bond, a Navy medical officer in the 1960s, the deep sea was humanity’s next frontier. Undersea agriculture, deep sea mining, and human colonies on the ocean floor made up his dream for the future.

Today we bring you the story of the U.S. Navy’s little-known experiment building homes on the ocean floor. They called it, Sealab.

Happy 2025! We have a slate of new stories coming soon, but we want to start the year by shouting out fellow podcaster (and friend of the show) Nate DiMeo of The Memory Palace. He just put out his first book, The Memory Palace: True Short Stories of the Past. So to celebrate, we're featuring one of our favorite episodes from The Memory Palace, "These Words, Forever." Joe also sat down with Nate to chat about his book, storytelling and the dream of having a device that could allow you to hear anything. 

Find Nate's book The Memory Palace: True Short Stories of the Past NOW online or at your local bookstore. Check out The Memory Palace wherever you get your podcasts, or on radiotopia.fm. 

If you liked this episode, follow us on X and Instagram @radiodiaries. Hear more episodes on our feed and at radiodiaries.org. 

If you follow boxing, you've heard of Claressa Shields. At the 2012 Olympics, she became the first American woman to win gold in boxing. She repeated the feat 4 years later, becoming the first American boxer — woman or otherwise — to win consecutive medals. Now, she's the subject of a new movie called The Fire Inside, tracing her journey to Olympic stardom.

Claressa Shields' story was one of our earliest at Radio Diaries. We gave her a tape recorder and asked her to document her journey leading up to the 2012 Olympics. She was sixteen at the time. Today, we revisit the story of Claressa Shields — before the world knew who she was.

The Fire Inside comes out exclusively in theaters on Christmas Day. 

If you liked this story, follow us on X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram @radiodiaries! See more stories in our feed and on our website, radiodiaries.org.

Former Oklahoma senator Fred Harris died recently, at 94 years old. In 1967, Fred Harris and 10 senators came together and released the Kerner Report, a 1400-page explanation of the causes of the protests that filled American cities that summer. It was an instant — and unlikely — bestseller, selling over half a million copies in just three weeks, getting shoutouts by celebrities like Marlon Brando, and sparking debates on news programs throughout the country. The book talked about white racism at a time when that phrase was mostly used by Black activists, not white politicians. Fred Harris was the last surviving member of the Kerner Commission.

If you liked this episode, follow us on X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram @radiodiaries. Visit our website at radiodiaries.org. 

November 23, 1936 was a good day for recorded music. Two men, an ocean apart, sat before a microphone and began to play. One, Pablo Casals, was a cello prodigy who had performed for the Queen of Spain. The other, Robert Johnson, played guitar and was a regular in the juke joints of the Mississippi Delta. These recordings would change music history.
This episode originally aired on NPR in 2011.

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Liked what you heard? Follow us on Instagram, X (formerly Twitter) and Facebook @radiodiaries. To see photos and hear our Casals/Johnson mashup in full, visit us at radiodiaries.org.

In today’s political climate, conspiracy theories are commonplace. But they’re nothing new. In fact, back in the 1960s, there was one organization that built a movement around them. 

The John Birch Society was started by a small group of wealthy businessmen including Robert Welch and Fred Koch. It expanded, with chapters of like-minded Americans meeting in private living rooms and finished basements across the country, fueled by conspiracy theories that caused a schism in presidential politics.

While the Birch Society’s influence has waned, its impact is still felt today.

During the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, millions of desperate Americans abandoned their homes, farms and businesses. It was one of the largest migrations in US history. In the 1940s, Pat Rush’s family were farm laborers, exhausted by trying to make ends meet. So they left Arkansas and followed the hundreds of thousands who had traveled Route 66 to California. There, the federal government had built resettlement camps to help deal with the influx. Migrant stories have two parts: the leaving of an old life, and the building of a new one.

In the spring of 1981, the Pawtucket Red Sox and the Rochester Red Wings met for a minor league baseball game of little importance. But over the course of 33 innings — 8 hours and 25 minutes — the game made history. It was the longest professional baseball game ever played. This story was produced in collaboration with ESPN's 30 for 30. 

Ever since Texas became a state, the Rio Grande has been the border between the U.S. and Mexico. But rivers can move — and that's exactly what happened in 1864, when torrential rains caused it to jump its banks and go south. Suddenly the border was a different place, and Texas had gained 700 acres of land called the Chamizal, named after a plant that grew in the area.

The Chamizal was a thorn in the side of U.S.-Mexico relations for a century, until Sept. 25, 1964, when the U.S. finally gave part of the land back to Mexico. But by that time, roughly 5,000 people had moved to the area and made it their home. This is their story.

This week we're featuring a story we loved from the StoryCorps podcast. 

In 1964, a 12-year-old paperboy from suburban Long Island spent nearly two weeks hiding among the gleaming attractions of the New York World's Fair. His adventure caused a media sensation. But the world only learned half the story.

Hart Island is America’s largest public cemetery—sometimes known as a “potter’s field.” The island has no headstones or plaques, just numbered markers. More than a million people are buried on Hart Island in mass graves, there are no headstones or plaques, just numbered markers. In this special, hour-long episode we're untangling mysteries about how people ended up on Hart Island, the lives they lived and the people they left behind.

When it comes to the space race, we all know names like Neil Armstrong and Yuri Gagarin. But in most moments in history, there are a few names that fall through the cracks. One of those names was Ed Dwight.

When Ed was selected to train to become an astronaut, many thought he would become the first Black man to go to space — but Ed faced some unexpected hurdles. Today on the show, we bring you that story — and a surprising update on Ed's 63-year-wait to go to space. 

Follow us on X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram @radiodiaries for more on our stories. You can also visit us at radiodiaries.org. 

Humanity isn't great at eradicating diseases. But there is one disease that humanity has managed to eradicate: smallpox.

Smallpox was around for more than 3,000 years and killed at least 300 million people in the 20th century. Then, by 1980, it was gone.

Rahima Banu was the last person in the world to have the deadliest form of smallpox. In 1975, Banu was a toddler growing up in a remote village in Bangladesh when she developed the telltale bumpy rash. Soon, public health workers from around the world showed up at her home to try to keep the virus from spreading. This is her story.

Most beauty pageants promote the fantasy of the ideal woman. But for 35 years, one contest in New York City celebrated the everyday working girl: Miss Subways. 

Each month starting in May 1941, a young woman was elected “Miss Subways,” and her face gazed down on transit riders as they rode through the city. Her photo was accompanied by a short bio describing her hopes, dreams and aspirations. The public got to choose the winners – so Miss Subway represented the perfect New York miss. 

Miss Subways was one of the first integrated beauty pageants in America. An African-American Miss Subways was selected in 1948 – more than thirty years before there was a Black Miss America. By the 1950s, there were Miss Subways who were Black, Asian, Jewish, and Hispanic – the faces of New York’s female commuters. 

This episode originally aired on NPR in 2012.

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