Why Hindenburg?
One of the most common questions I get isn’t about radio production, sound engineering, or why AI is reshaping our media landscape.
It’s this:
“Why Hindenburg?”
And it’s usually followed by a polite, slightly puzzled smile.
“Why name a company after something as devastating as that?”
Fair question.
The image of a giant airship, swastika on its tail fin, tumbling in flames, doesn’t exactly scream "great branding opportunity."
So here’s the story.
THE LIVING ROOM STARTUP
When my co-founder, Preben Friis, and I started Hindenburg, it was very much a garage project. Except the garage was already full.
Wall-to-wall with audio equipment Preben had collected over the years.
When he wasn’t busy being a brilliant software developer, he moonlighted as a sound engineer for bands.
That’s actually how we met. But that’s another story.
So instead of the garage, we took over his living room.
We sat across from each other at the dining table, often in silence, except for the occasional burst of discussion about how the software should work. I’d sketch out ideas, and Preben would bring them to life. It was simple. Pure.
One of those moments you don’t realize you’ll be nostalgic for until much later.
But as the software took shape, we knew it needed a name.
A lot of suggestions flew across the table.
Most had some variation of “audio,” “tool,” or “edit” in them, but none of them really felt right.
I wanted something that spoke to radio journalists. The people we were building this for.
Then one day, I sat up straight.
“I have it!”
Preben glanced up over his monitor. He’d heard this before.
“Hindenburg!” I burst out, probably looking like a sugar-rushed child desperate for approval.
Long silence.
Preben raised an eyebrow.
“So… you want to name our software after a Nazi-marked airship that crashed and burned, killing dozens of people?”
“Yes.”
By now, I was fully committed.
“Let me explain.”
THE STORY THAT CHANGED JOURNALISM
I studied journalism.
Most of what I learned has faded over time, some of it immediately after class, but one lecture stuck with me.
It was about the art of reportage: the kind of journalism that happens out in the field, where you find the people the story happened to and report from the world outside.
Not the kind where two people sit in comfortable chairs, exchanging opinions. Real reporting.
And this particular lecture was about the first-ever live recorded news report. The one that changed everything.
In 1937, Herb Morrison was a reporter from Chicago.
This was an era when men wore suits, smoked cigarettes in the shower, and radio was king.
Every evening, millions gathered around their crystal radio sets - lost in the mental images, eagerly awaiting television’s invention.
Back then, radio production was strictly a studio affair.
The equipment was massive. Not just oversized, but building-sized.
Most broadcasts were done live because recording technology was still in its clunky infancy.
But change was coming.
A new, portable recording device had just hit the market.
The Presto Model 6D recorder.
At 50 kg, it wasn’t exactly "lightweight," but it was designed to bring recording outside the studio.
Morrison was assigned to test this new technology, and he and his recording engineer, Charlie Nehlsen, drove from Chicago to Lakehurst, New Jersey to cover the arrival of a modern marvel: the Hindenburg airship.
THE STORY HERB MORRISON DIDN'T EXPECT
In 1937, World War II hadn’t officially started yet, but Europe was tense.
Nazi Germany was getting bolder, though most Americans, still in an isolationist mindset, weren’t paying too much attention.
The Hindenburg was Germany’s pride and joy.
A luxury airship that symbolized cutting-edge technology and wealth.
Think of it as the airborne Titanic.
Its passengers were the elite.
Celebrities, dignitaries, people who had no problem sipping champagne at 1,000 feet.
That’s what Morrison had come to witness: a flawless display of German precision and glamour.
They set up the recorder, and Morrison began his report.
“And from over the Atlantic comes the Hindenburg…”
He spoke as he always did, like a live performance, while Charlie Nehlsen carefully cranked the Presto recorder, engraving the audio onto lacquer-coated discs in real time.
And then…
The unimaginable happened.
The airship exploded mid-air.
Morrison’s voice broke with shock as he stared at the inferno in front of him:
“Oh, the humanity!”
Charlie Nehlsen, caught in the moment, forgot to adjust the recorder’s crank speed, and the shockwave from the explosion made the turntable skip.
For a brief moment, history itself stuttered.
But they kept recording.
HINDENBURG IS A TRIBUTE TO GREAT STORYTELLING.
To the reporters who go where the story is.
To the moments that define history.
To capturing life; unedited, unfiltered, in real time.
But there’s something else, too.
Every storyteller stands on the shoulders of those who came before.
Without the pioneers who ventured into the field, tested new technology, and experimented with new formats, we’d still be sitting in a studio, recording a conversation, and calling it a day.
Not that there’s anything wrong with the “talking head” format. It’s great for opinions, analysis, and debate.
But documentation is something else entirely.
To document the world, you have to be in it.
You have to step outside the studio, capture the voices, the sounds, the emotions. Not just what people think about the world - but what is happening in it.
New formats aren’t just for show.
They change how we tell stories.
And in doing so, they change what we tell.
And that’s the real legacy of Herb Morrison and every reporter like him. Not just the words they recorded, but the courage to record them in the first place.
So if you’ve made it this far, well…
Maybe you’re a storyteller, too.
Happy storytelling.
About the author:
Nick Dunkerley // CEO at Hindenburg Systems, Keynote Speaker,
Nick Dunkerley is the founder and Director of Hindenburg Systems. He’s a keynote speaker, lecturer, and lifelong advocate for audio storytelling. With a background as a radio host, sound engineer, and producer at Danish National Radio (DR), he has spent his career exploring how audio can help us better understand the world we live in.
In an era of AI-driven misinformation, “fake news,” and the erosion of truth, he believes long-form radio is one of the most powerful ways to achieve authenticity.
Ironically, for someone who built an audio software company, he doesn’t actually like software. To him, it’s a necessity for professional audio production—but it should never get in the way of creativity. That’s why Hindenburg is designed to make storytelling as effortless as possible, a tool embraced by professionals around the world.
For Nick, it’s all about the story. Always has been. Always will be.
It is intuitive, easy to use, and FAST when it comes to editing, and at the end of the day, I am able to produce 23 hours of quality radio content every week. Don’t let the simple controls fool you.
Hindenburg PRO for storytellers
At Hindenburg, we're all about the story. Our tools are designed specifically with audio storytelling in mind, giving you everything you need to navigate and edit complex stories seamlessly. From Multitrack recording, transcriptions, clipboards, sound libraries and publish tools - Hindenburg Pro has you covered.
If you are considering a life in audio, then begin with a 30 day trial of Hindenburg PRO.
