American History Tellers - Encore: The WWII Home Front | Arsenal of Democracy | 1

Episode Date: September 6, 2023

On December 7, 1941, hundreds of Japanese warplanes rained death and destruction down on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor—shocking the nation and drawing it into World War II. The U.S. had been ravaged by the Great Depression. Mobilizing the country for war would require unprecedented government intervention in industry, the economy, and American lives. But the crisis would also spark new opportunities, challenges and questions about what it meant to be a patriot and an American during a time of crisis.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. We're bringing you a special encore presentation of our series, The World War II Homefront. After Japan's surprise attack on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor, America was drawn into the global conflict of World War II. Manufacturers scrambled to convert their factories for war production, and there was unprecedented government intervention in the economy and American lives. The war sparked new opportunities and new challenges at home, as millions of citizens were faced with questions about what it meant to be a patriotic American during a time of crisis. Imagine it's a warm December morning in 1941.

You're just about to walk to your job at the Honolulu Advertiser when a man rushes past you. Out of my way! You pin yourself to the wall to let him pass. Watch it! What's got you moving so fast? Something's going on at Pearl. At Pearl? What'd you hear? Mister! But the man is already rounding a corner out of earshot.

You briefly consider jogging after him. It could be a hot lead. You've been looking for an opportunity to prove yourself. But you're in heels, and you've got to get inside. You started working as a clerk in the circulation office of the advertiser just a month ago. You spend most of your day filing paperwork and fielding calls from customers. You're still adjusting to the fast pace of the newsroom, and you're seriously regretting not drinking a second cup of coffee this morning. Inside, you find your boss on the phone, scratching his head. Sure, what if it's an exercise? Uh-huh, okay. Well, listen, let me call

you back. He hangs up the phone, a dazed look on his face. Is that about Pearl? He gives you a surprised look. Not. Yeah, it is. Come on, let's go up to the roof, see if we can see anything. You drop your purse on his desk, pick up a pen and pad of paper, and follow him up a flight of stairs. As you walk to the edge of the roof, you can't help but gasp. Smudged across the clear blue sky are giant billows of thick black smoke. Pearl Harbor is nine or so miles away, but you can still see planes darting through the ominous clouds in every direction. I think we're under attack. Yeah, I'm going to climb the radio tower, see if I can get a better look. He starts to ascend the tower as you turn back to the chaos in the distance, trying to make

sense of this nightmare in the sky. You have friends and neighbors who work over at Pearl. One of those people. You lose your balance, fall to the ground. A bomb or a shell or something has shattered a cement wall at the rear of the building you're standing on

just 50 feet away. Your boss climbs down the radio tower quickly and helps you to your feet. Your head is ringing. Ugh, thank you. God, I don't know what we're gonna do.

They had to pick a Sunday. The regular staff won't be in for hours. I need reporters. Well, I could help out what we're going to do. They had to pick a Sunday. The regular staff won't be in for hours. I need reporters. Well, I could help out. Your boss gives you a skeptical look. Sure you're up for this? You're a clerk, aren't you?

Maybe. But after what I've just seen, we need to get to the bottom of this. Yeah, well, we do. All right, then. Hell of a day to start your reporting career. This is the story of the century. You're too stunned to reply. You look back at the balls of flame and smoke torching the sky,

knowing this can mean just one thing. America is going to war. Now streaming. Welcome to Buy It Now, where aspiring entrepreneurs get 90 seconds to pitch to an audience of potential customers. If the audience liked the product, if it gets them in front of our panel of experts, Gwyneth Paltrow,

Anthony Anderson, Tabitha Brown, Tony Hawk. Oh, my God. Buy it now. Stream free on Freebie and Prime Video. Hey, this is Nick. And this is Jack.

And we just launched a brand new podcast called The Best Idea Yet. You may have heard of it. It's all about the untold origin stories of the products you're obsessed with. Listen to The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. On our show, we'll take you to the events, the times, and the people that shaped America and Americans, our values, our struggles, and our dreams.

We'll put you in the shoes of everyday citizens as history was being made, and we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and affects you now. On December 7, 1941, hundreds of Japanese warplanes rained death and destruction down on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor, shocking the nation and catapulting it into World War II. The country had been ravaged by the Great Depression. Mobilizing the U.S. for war would be a daunting task for the federal government. New plants would have to be built, and old ones expanded and converted for war production. Raw materials would need to be acquired and allocated. The economy would need to be regulated to stave off disastrous inflation. All of this

would require unprecedented government intervention in industry, the economy, and American lives. It would spark heated debates around how far the government should go and what it meant to be a patriot and an American during a time of crisis. But the stakes couldn't be higher. Hitler's Nazi menace was crushing Europe and threatening the survival of freedom and democracy. World War II wouldn't just be waged on the battlefield. It would demand an all-out fight, including on the home front. In this two-part series, we'll explore how Americans at home coped with the war, the opportunities and challenges that transformed

the very fabric of American life. This is Episode 1, Arsenal of Democracy. On September 1, 1939, Nazi forces invaded Poland, breaking Hitler's promise not to seek further territory and revealing the Nazi strategy of expanding Germany's empire by force. Two days later, France and Britain declared war on Germany. World War II had officially begun. As Europe was plunged into war across the Atlantic, the United States was still climbing out of the Great Depression. American industry remained sluggish. The federal government had grown dramatically in size and strength thanks to the New Deal economic reforms, but he was still unprepared for the challenges that lay ahead. Steering the nation through this extraordinary time was President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Roosevelt had been born to a wealthy, aristocratic New York family, but his faith in everyday Americans was unshakable. Elected to the presidency on the Democratic ticket in 1932, Roosevelt led America out of economic ruin. He served in unprecedented four terms, bolstering the nation's confidence through depression and war with boundless optimism and strength, despite being disabled from polio. In managing the federal government, Roosevelt was often cagey and reluctant to delegate power, but his imagination and readiness to experiment made him a remarkable leader in the face of grave national crises. Above all else, he was guided by a firm belief that the forces of democracy could be harnessed for great things.

With the outbreak of World War II, he would be determined to push a reluctant nation to shore up its military readiness. When the war broke out in the fall of 1939, Roosevelt sympathized with Britain and France, but there was little he could do. He was constrained by neutrality laws passed in the 1930s and a strong isolationist sentiment in Congress. The public, too, supported neutrality. More than 80 percent of Americans hoped the United States would stay out of the conflict. They were still trying to get back on their feet after a decade of economic hardship, and many still harbored memories of the horrors of World War I. But in October 1939, Roosevelt convinced Congress to repeal an embargo on American arms sales to support Britain and France to try to put a dent

in Germany's military advantage. But precious few shipments were made. Then in the spring of 1940, Hitler unleashed the full might of his Nazi war machine on Western Europe. German forces tore through Norway, Denmark, the Netherlands, and Belgium. By May, France was on the verge of collapse. Americans were terrified that if the Allies were crushed, the United States would have to go to war and face down the Nazis alone. Roosevelt knew America had to be prepared to support its allies and defend itself soon. On May 16, 1940, heavy rains battered the nation's capital as Roosevelt stood before Congress, his leg braces locked into place. These are ominous days, he began in a solemn voice,

days whose swift and shocking developments force every neutral nation to look to its defenses in the light of new factors. Roosevelt then stunned the nation by asking Congress to appropriate nearly $1 billion for the immediate production of 50,000 warplanes a year. When Roosevelt finished his speech, Congress burst into rousing applause. The public, and even the president's Republican rivals in Congress, supported stepping up the nation's defense program. Though privately, many wondered if Roosevelt's production goals were really possible. And indeed, bigger challenges than public and political support lay ahead in turning the idea of mobilization into reality. Two decades of funding neglect had left the U.S. military woefully ill-equipped. Most of its weapons were outdated leftovers from World War I. The military lacked

planes and tanks, and the ones it did have were no match for Germany's state-of-the-art force. It was Congress that controlled the purse strings, but such a massive defense effort would require the cooperation of private industry as well. Steel and automobile manufacturers would need to convert to war production with unprecedented increases in output and efficiency. But with Americans only just starting to feel good again about what was in their pocketbooks, many industry leaders were reluctant to slow down the production of consumer goods. They feared that once the war boom ended, they would be left with empty factories, and they were wary of government intervention. Still, it was clear that government and industry would have to work together. Roosevelt knew it wouldn't be easy. Relations between the business community and the federal government had soured during the 1930s.

Roosevelt had devoted much of the past few years to investigating and regulating business leaders and doing everything he could to strip them of political power. As a result, many of these leaders were enraged by New Deal policies that supported workers and organized labor, cutting into corporate profits. Some businessmen hated Roosevelt so much, they refused to say his name, instead calling him that man in the White House. Roosevelt didn't have much better an opinion of them. During his 1936 campaign, he called businessmen privileged princes of these new economic dynasties. But Roosevelt was ready to do whatever was necessary to boost America's defenses. He put the past behind him and recruited business leaders to

manage mobilization efforts. Soon, after getting funding from Congress, Roosevelt established a seven-member advisory board known as the National Defense Advisory Commission. Its job was to contract companies to start war production as quickly as possible. Roosevelt tried to balance his dedication to defense production with his commitment to New Deal liberalism, a belief that government should take an active role in creating a fair economy and society. The new advisory board was staffed by four New Deal bureaucrats and three business leaders, which made for an uneasy alliance. Because as much as business leaders feared the government's hand in the economy, liberals feared that business might dominate the government and threaten the New Deal agenda. For the crucial task of managing production, Roosevelt drafted William Knudsen,

the silver-haired millionaire president of General Motors. Knudsen had arrived at Ellis Island from Denmark at age 20 with just $30 in his pocket. He learned the art of efficient mass production working under Henry Ford during the development of the first assembly line. Knudsen hated red tape and hated politics even more, but he was eager to serve his country. When he told his family he was leaving General Motors to go to Washington, his daughter asked why.

Knudsen simply replied, this country has been good to me, and I want to pay it back. Knudsen was paid $1 a year for his efforts, one of hundreds of dollar-a-year men who left private industry to staff wartime agencies. Knudsen and his team faced immediate challenges. They needed to determine the military's needs, including guns, tanks, and ships, and figure out whether new plants or

equipment were required to produce them. Then Knudsen approached individual companies to enlist their help. The federal government provided subsidies, low-cost loans, and tax incentives to entice businesses to invest in military production. And so, by October 1940, Knudsen and his team had awarded 920 military contracts worth nearly $9 billion. But a host of obstacles hampered their progress. Industries were in no hurry to convert to defense production, with the civilian economy finally improving. They continued to churn out as many consumer goods as possible, fearing they would soon be forced to stop. At the same time, Knudsen lacked the tools to execute a larger plan. He needed the autonomy to put pressure on private companies, but Roosevelt was reluctant to relinquish power to business leaders. He dismissed public calls for a production czar with real authority,

declaring, you cannot, under the Constitution, set up a second president of the United States. It was an irksome situation. As president of General Motors, Knudsen was used to calling the shots. He thought he had a strong handle on management, but now he was answering to someone else. At the end of the advisory board's first meeting, Knudsen asked Roosevelt, who is boss? And Roosevelt replied, well, I guess I am. 1940 wound to a close with the Nazis marching across Europe. They occupied France, and Britain feared it would soon be next. On December 29th, Roosevelt took to the airwaves to urge the nation to accelerate its mobilization efforts.

Since the Depression, Roosevelt had used his radio fireside chats to speak directly to the American people and build support for his policies. That night, millions of Americans tuned in to hear the president call on the American people to work toward a grand vision. We must be the great arsenal of democracy. For us, this is an emergency as serious as war itself. We must apply ourselves to our task with the same resolution, the same sense of urgency, the same spirit of patriotism and sacrifice as we would show were we at war. Roosevelt declared that so far the country's production efforts had fallen short. He urged the country to discard the notion of business as usual and summon its energies to the production of ships, guns, and planes. He argued to a wary public that ramping up support to the British

would lessen the chance the United States would have to get involved. To that end, in January, Roosevelt asked Congress for the authority to lend ships and planes to Britain in what was known as the Lend-Lease Program. Americans remained resolute in their desire to stay out of the war, but they also didn't want to see Britain knocked out. When the Lend-Lease Bill passed two months later, polls show Americans divided, with just over half in support of aiding Britain. Mobilization continued to stall in 1941. In January, Roosevelt replaced the advisory board with a new organization, the Office of Production Management, to be co-run by Knudsen and a labor leader,

but the president again gave them little authority. Time was running out. The manufacture of planes was now more than 30% behind schedule. A shortage of critical machine tools was snarling production of aircraft, weapons, and ammunition. Millions of American men had registered for the draft, but the nation was still nowhere near ready for war. Imagine it's January 1941. You work for the Ford Motor Company

and you're an expert in mass production. But you've left behind the Detroit cold for sunny San Diego, California. You're visiting an aircraft plant to inspect how the new B-24 bombers are coming along. You breathe in the familiar smell of oil and hot rivets, and step over the gloves and tools that litter the floors. The plant manager is showing you around.

Over there, those men are putting together the wing sections and part of the fuselage. You watch the men crawling over the fuselage of the bomber, getting in each other's way. The way you see it, production should flow like a symphony, each tiny part working together to make a magnificent whole. This, though, looks more like a three-ring circus. And how many planes per day did you say you were aiming for? The manager grins at you. One a day. Uh-huh. I gotta say, this reminds me of when we were making Model N Fords back at Pickett Avenue, 35 years ago. That was before we figured out assembly lines. All right, well, come on, I'll show you where we do the final assembly.

You follow the plant manager outside, squinting as your eyes adjust from the dark factory to the bright California sun. Here's where it all comes together. You look up at a steel fixture used for fitting the plane parts, wiping the sweat from your brow. You assemble the bombers out here? Well, yes. What's wrong with that? Well, look at how the heat has distorted that metal. I bet constant temperature changes would make it so that every plane needs adjustment. Military needs these planes, and as soon as yesterday. I've got to say, this is hardly encouraging.

The manager squares his shoulders. Well, how would you do it? You think about Roosevelt's call to put aside business as usual. Hitler's arsenal is like nothing the world has ever seen. Defeating it will demand a bold, path-breaking vision. It's clear this will be the biggest challenge of your career. Well, first, we need to break down the plane into its main parts. Then we need to determine the process, timing, and floor space required to build each of those parts. After that, we'll design a logical order for assembly. We'll need a brand new plant.

Something much bigger and much faster. In March 1941, Ford broke ground on its mammoth Willow Run plant, 35 miles outside of Detroit. Willow Run would apply Ford's groundbreaking mass production techniques to the production of B-24 bombers on a continuous, mile-long assembly line, eventually producing planes at a rate of one per hour. But mobilization still wasn't moving fast enough. A wave of strikes crippled the defense industry in 1941. Meanwhile, industries continued to churn out consumer goods. Automakers produced a million

more cars in 1941 than they did in 1939. William Knudsen complained, I can see we haven't got the spirit yet, probably because no one has dropped a bomb on us. Knudsen's words would prove prophetic. On December 7, 1941, Japanese warplanes descended on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor. The two-hour surprise attack was a devastating blow. 2,403 U.S. service personnel were killed and 21 ships were sunk or damaged. Americans were shocked and humiliated, but they would unite in their determination to fight back. Roosevelt and his allies could now clearly make the case for bold action in the face of an urgent threat.

But avenging Pearl Harbor would require the nation to focus all its energies towards mobilization to a level greater than anything the world had ever seen. Now streaming. Welcome to Buy It Now, the show where aspiring entrepreneurs get the opportunity of a lifetime. I wouldn't be chasing it

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Oh, my God. Are we excited for this moment? Ah! I cannot believe it. Woo! Buy It Now. Stream free on Freeview and Prime Video. Dracula, the ancient vampire who terrorizes Victorian London. Blood and garlic, bats and crucifixes.

Even if you haven't read the book, you think you know the story. One of the incredible things about Dracula is that not only is it this wonderful snapshot of the 19th century, but it also has so much resonance today. The vampire doesn't cast a reflection in a mirror. So when we look in the mirror, the only thing we see is our own monstrous abilities. From the host and producer of American History Tellers and History Daily comes the new podcast,

The Real History of Dracula. We'll reveal how author Bram Stoker raided ancient folklore, exploited Victorian fears around sex, science, and religion, and how even today we remain enthralled to his strange creatures of the night. You can binge all episodes

of The Real History of Dracula exclusively with Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus and The Wondery App, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Just before two o'clock on the afternoon of Sunday, December 7th, President Roosevelt was sitting on the second floor study of the White House. With him was a friend and his Scottish terrier, Fowler, when the Secretary of the Navy called him with shocking news. The Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor. Roosevelt reacted with deadly calm, according to the First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt. The president summoned his press secretary, who called together the White House press corps.

For the rest of the day, reporters scrambled back and forth from their desks to the press secretary's office, writing copy or issuing radio broadcasts with each new development. Shocked crowds gathered outside the White House gates. In New York Times Square, pedestrians read the latest headlines on the electronic news ticker in stunned silence. Across the country, radio broadcasts were interrupted to alert Americans to the news. The next morning, Roosevelt asked Congress to declare war on Japan, calling December 7th a day which will live in infamy. By 1 o'clock, the Senate and the House approved the war resolution unanimously, with one exception.

Congresswoman Jeanette Rankin, a lifelong pacifist, cast the sole vote no. On December 9th, two days after the bombing, Roosevelt authorized the arrest of Japanese nationals considered dangerous to national security. Already, the FBI and local law enforcement were arresting hundreds of Japanese citizens deemed suspicious. But they expanded the net to include even American citizens of Japanese descent. Police closed down Japanese restaurants and businesses, and store owners removed Japanese-made products from their shelves. Soon after the attacks, landmarks and skyscrapers went dark, movie theater audiences dwindled,

and Americans mobbed grocery stores to stock up on sugar, flour, and canned goods. The National Archives made plans to ship the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence to bomb-proof shelters. And in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Seattle, false rumors of enemy planes off the coast put residents on edge. Local officials imposed nighttime electricity blackouts to shield their cities from attack. Hysteria reigned as Americans up and down the West Coast feared they would be targeted next. Imagine it's the evening of December 8th, 1941 in San Francisco.

You're in the clothing store you own on Market Street, the main thoroughfare downtown. You and your assistant are closing up shop for the day. Rumors of Japanese planes and submarines just off the coast have prompted a citywide blackout. That's all you know, though. Radios went dead more than an hour ago. All right, come on, we better get home before all the lights go out. Well, you got no argument for me. This is madness. Your assistant follows you out the door as you lock up. You get home safe, okay? You lock the door, turn around, and then take in a scene of absolute chaos. The whole city

has been on edge since yesterday's news about Pearl Harbor, and now people are panicking. They've packed the streets. They're blocking the trolleys. Cars are at a standstill. They're throwing rocks, anything they can find, trying to hit the streetlights. You watch in horror as a man with a baseball bat smashes the big round light on the streetcar across from your store. Turn the lights out.

Japanese are coming. You're appalled to see this flagrant vandalism. Hey, stop that. The man turns and weaves through the crowd to approach you. We can't leave these lights on. Are you an idiot? Just then, the man looks up at the neon sign that hangs over your storefront. Keeping it running costs you a small fortune each month, but it's your pride and joy. You must be an idiot. Look at this. You planning to turn that off? Well, I would if I could. It's on a time-lock device. Someone from the power company would need to get up there.

Well, I can think of a faster way. The man leans down to the ground and picks up a rock. Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don't think you know what you're doing here. I know what I'm doing. I'm protecting this city. What are you doing? Who are you?

Are you a patriot? Are you an American? Sir, put down the rock. Step away. Just then, you and your sign have been saved by a policeman. He walks up toward the both of you, and the man drops the rock and darts off. You breathe a sigh of relief, but you know things won't really calm down until the people know the city is safe from enemy attack. In the weeks after Pearl Harbor, the immediate shock started to wear off.

But many Americans went back to their daily routines with the overwhelming sense that life had forever changed. President Roosevelt led the nation through this time of uncertainty, assuring Americans that while the road to victory would not be easy, the United States would win the war. On January 5, 1942, one month after Pearl Harbor, Roosevelt told Congress that powerful enemies must be outfought and outproduced. A few more planes, tanks, and guns wouldn't be enough.

He vowed, We must outproduce the Germans overwhelmingly, so that there can be no question of our ability to provide a crushing superiority. Roosevelt set staggering goals for 1942. 60,000 planes, 45,000 tanks, and 20,000 anti-aircraft guns. The night before his speech, Roosevelt had taken a pencil and revised the figures higher than they originally were. When an advisor questioned whether his goals were feasible, Roosevelt simply replied,

The production people can do it if they really try. But it was up to William Knudsen and his team to meet Roosevelt's ambitious targets. The same day Roosevelt addressed Congress, Knudsen gathered together leading automakers in Detroit and read from a $5 billion list of needs from the War Department. Knudsen sounded almost like an auctioneer as he asked the room, we want more machine guns, who wants to make more machine guns, and waited for executives to raise their hands. Back in Washington, officials were appalled by how disorganized

the process was. There seemed to be no coordinated vision or master plan. Time magazine accused Knudsen of putting the nation's defenses up for auction. His inability to get production moving, and now public scrutiny in the press, put the final nail in the coffin for Knudsen and the agency he led. A week later, Roosevelt responded to public calls to appoint a production czar with real power. He recruited former Sears executive Donald Nelson to lead a new organization, the War Production Board, or WPB. Roosevelt announced that Nelson would have final say on production and procurement. Donald Nelson was a cheerful, soft-spoken man.

He would often get lost in thought while puffing away on his pipe. But he had a boundless appetite for work. He was comfortable with Washington bureaucrats, having worked for one of the New Deal agencies a decade earlier. As head of the WPB, Nelson had a daunting challenge, though. He was expected to cut back production of the regular goods that customers were used to, like cars, washing machines, and vacuum cleaners, and speed up military production to unprecedented levels. To do this, he had to figure out which factories should produce which goods, and he needed to decide how best to divvy up raw materials across a sprawling marketplace. Over the next six months, the WPB grew to employ 18,000 staff members

as more than 100 billion in military orders poured out to the nation's factories. Production on a wide range of consumer products crowned to a halt, from refrigerators and radios to zippers and coat hangers. To conserve wool, the WPB ordered the elimination of vests and cuffs on men's suits and regulated women's clothing to feature slimmer and shorter cuts in a style dubbed patriotic chic. A former merry-go-round factory now made gun mounts, a corset factory switched over to grenade belts, and a pinball machine maker was churning out armor-piercing shells.

A ban on car and truck manufacturing turned the nation's assembly lines over to production of planes and tanks in record time. Shipbuilder Henry Kaiser earned the nickname Sir Launch-A-Lot for his miracles of ship construction. One of his vessels was assembled in just two weeks, down to the life jackets. By August, America was outproducing Britain. But despite the improvements in output and efficiency, roadblocks still remained. Raw materials like copper, aluminum, and steel were in short supply after the consumer production boom the previous year. Making matters worse, some factories had stockpiled raw materials in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor, so there weren't enough to go around to all the plants that really needed them.

Nelson also struggled to impose order on the unruly production process. The military was still in charge of procurement, awarding contracts without prioritizing the most urgent needs, and with little thought for the availability of materials, plants, and workers, sparking a frenzied competition for resources. Important industries like rubber and petroleum were managed by independent czars beyond Nelson's control, and he had no power over labor issues.

Nelson was turning out to be a good-natured but indecisive leader, constantly torn between the demands of competing agencies. By late summer, factories were closing down for lack of materials, and production between the demands of competing agencies. By late summer, factories were closing down for lack of materials, and production was falling behind schedule. Congress and the press complained about the slow pace of mobilization. Nelson conceded, the performance is not one we can brag about. But it wasn't just billions of dollars at stake. Production delays could add months to the war and countless more casualties. Tens of thousands

of young Americans were already shipping to the front to face German machine guns and tanks. They needed their country behind them. Finally, in 1943, a bold new plan broke the gridlock. A former investment banker, now working as the vice chairman of the WPB, designed a way to end the competition for raw materials by giving the WPB control of allocations. In this plan, the WPB would evaluate where the biggest needs were and ensure that plants got the steel, copper, and aluminum they needed at the right time. In May of that year, complaints about Nelson led Roosevelt to tap former Senator and Supreme Court Justice James Burns to bring

order to the chaos. Roosevelt was finally starting to learn his lesson about delegating power. He gave Burns broad authority to coordinate the mobilization effort. Burns brought his political savvy to the table to mediate conflicts between various wartime agencies. He set up an office in the White House and soon became known as the Assistant President. While Roosevelt had started to mobilize the war effort four years earlier, long before the attack on Pearl Harbor, it wasn't until 1943 that the efforts finally got up to speed. Outputs that year dwarfed those of the previous year. Production of naval ships shot up 75 percent, munitions spiked more than 80 percent, and aircraft tonnage skyrocketed 140

percent higher than in 1942. Over the course of the war, America's plants and assembly lines would churn out billions of bullets, millions of machine guns, and hundreds of thousands of ships, tanks, and aircraft. This war production stimulated tremendous economic growth. The gross national product more than doubled between 1939 and 1945, going from just over $90 billion to more than $213. By war's end, American industry would provide almost two-thirds of all the Allied military equipment, supplying troops from France, Great Britain, and the Soviet Union. It would make the difference between victory and defeat.

This mobilization miracle would not have been possible without the extraordinary growth of the federal government and its hands-on approach to managing American industry. As a result, the executive branch became far more powerful than it was even during the New Deal. But it wasn't just the nation's factories that mobilized for war. All across the country, Americans themselves were pitching in, buying war bonds and planting victory gardens. Every household would have to bear the burdens of the war effort. Civilians were facing a collective effort never before attempted in American history. And to win this war, they would have to grapple with unprecedented changes to their daily lives.

In November 1991, media tycoon Robert Maxwell mysteriously vanished from his luxury yacht in the Canary Islands. But it wasn't just his body that would come to the surface in the days that followed. It soon emerged that Robert's business was on the brink of collapse, and behind his facade of wealth and success was a litany of bad investments, mounting debt, and multi-million dollar fraud. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery Show Business Movers. We tell the true stories of business leaders who risked it all, the critical moments that define their journey, and the ideas that transform the way we live our lives.

In our latest series, a young refugee fleeing the Nazis arrives in Britain determined to make something of his life. Taking the name Robert Maxwell, he builds a publishing and newspaper empire that spans the globe. But ambition eventually curdles into desperation, and Robert's determination to succeed turns into a willingness to do anything to get ahead.

Follow Business Movers wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. How did Birkenstocks go from a German cobbler's passion project 250 years ago to the Barbie movie today? or Wondery and T-Boy. This is Nick. This is Jack. And we've covered over a thousand episodes of pop business news stories on our daily podcast. We've identified

the most viral products of all time. And their wild origin stories that you had no idea about. From the Levi's 501 jeans to Legos. Come for the products you're obsessed with.

Stay for the business insights that are going to blow up your group chat. Jack, Nintendo, Super Mario Brothers, best-selling video game of all time. How'd they do it? Nintendo never fires anyone, ever. Follow The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to The Best Idea Yet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. As America braced for war, the government stepped in to mobilize industry on a scale never before attempted. But even as factories and assembly lines finally began to churn out war supplies,

it became clear that changes were also coming to the economy and Americans' everyday lives in ways that would be far-reaching and controversial. The cost of World War II was staggering. The federal government would spend more than $300 billion during the war, almost twice as much as it had spent during the country's entire 150-year history, which meant the government had to figure out how to foot the bill. One option was to simply print more money, but that would drive inflation through the roof. Inflation was already a huge risk. Americans were doing well. There was nearly full employment, and people wanted to spend their

disposable income. But with the factories focused on defense, there weren't enough consumer goods to satisfy demand. The rise in incomes and the fall in available consumer goods was a dangerous recipe for inflation. The government needed to both pay for the war and reduce American spending power. Taxes formed part of the answer. Before the war, few Americans paid federal income taxes. Instead, government revenue mostly came from tariffs and excise taxes. Mobilization changed all of that. Soon, the federal government started withholding taxes from paychecks for the first time. Still, taxes paid for less than half of wartime costs. For the rest, the government turned to borrowing.

It launched campaigns encouraging Americans to buy U.S. Treasury savings bonds to finance the war. The government even recruited celebrities, including Bette Davis, Bob Hope, and Frank Sinatra, to host bond rallies. But taxes and war bonds weren't enough to siphon purchasing power out of the economy and check inflation. For that, the government needed to introduce price and wage controls and create a rationing system for goods in short supply. To manage this delicate balancing act, President Roosevelt turned to Leon Henderson, a brilliant and aggressive New Deal economist.

The overweight, curly-haired Henderson, with a cheap cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth, would be dogged in his fight against wartime inflation. In August 1941, Roosevelt appointed Henderson to lead the Office of Price Administration, or OPA. By early 1942, rapid inflation led Henderson to freeze prices on a wide range of consumer items, but price controls weren't enough. And so in January, Henderson and the OPA introduced rationing to prevent inflation and guarantee that stores could continue to stock the essentials for everyone. First up was sugar, which Americans began hoarding after Pearl Harbor.

Henderson called the hoarding of sugar traitorous and encouraged consumers to sell excess sugar back to their grocers. Soon, other staples, including butter, coffee, meat, and canned goods were rationed too. Housewives devised creative substitutions to the limited supply of staple ingredients, replacing butter with margarine and sugar with corn syrup or molasses. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt tried to set the example, promising the White House kitchens would be relying on corn syrup and, when possible, replacing desserts with salads. And with so much of agricultural production focused on feeding the troops overseas, the government encouraged Americans to plant victory gardens to supply food for themselves. Propaganda posters urged families to convert backyards and abandoned lots to sow the seeds of victory and dig for plenty.

At their peak, there were 20 million victory gardens, and they accounted for more than one third of the vegetables grown in the U.S. in 1943. While Americans understood the need for rationing, they grew frustrated with the restrictions on what they could buy. Families could finally afford goods after a decade of scrimping and saving during the Great Depression, and rationing seemed to fly in the face of American ideals of freedom and abundance. It didn't help that buying rationed goods involved a jumble mess of coupons, stamps, and stickers. Rationing also placed an especially heavy burden on the women who ran American households. Some women hacked the system by trading rationed coupons or even counterfeiting them. Black markets sprang up across the country, giving consumers access to everything from meat

to nylon, but at a price. As American women navigated rationing, some created their own definitions of patriotism. Imagine it's August 1942 in Charleston, West Virginia. It's a Saturday afternoon. Your husband is off at basic training, leaving you to juggle work, caring for your two boys, and running the household. Something that's proving more challenging than ever before, now that rationing has started. You have a plan, but it's going to require your neighbor's help. Mary! Come in, come in.

Thanks, Dorothy. You follow her into the living room and take a seat. I don't want to take up too much of your time. Oh, nonsense. I'll put the kettle on. How are you? Oh, we're hanging in there. It's actually Bobby's birthday tomorrow.

He'll be 10. I can't believe it, 10. But I want to bake him a cake. A real cake. I just don't have enough sugar coupons to get what I need for my usual recipe. The chocolate cake you brought to the potluck? That was good. Yeah, that's the one. Bobby loves it. So you see why I can't bear to let him down. With his father away, I want to give him some semblance of, I don't know, normalcy. Dorothy raises an eyebrow, hands you a steaming cup of tea.

Well, that's understandable, but what are you proposing? I'm hoping we can do a trade. My shoe stamps for your sugar stamps. You've got extra, don't you? Dorothy pauses, taking a sip from her cup. Well, yes, but isn't trading coupons illegal? It's like buying off the black market. Oh, I don't know about that.

It's not like I'm some sort of bootlegger. Doesn't everyone win this way? I guess so, but I just can't help but feel like it's skirting the rules. Your heart drops. I understand. I must be thinking crazy. You know, Chucky, now, he's deploying soon. I don't know why I thought one cake was going to make everything better.

Dorothy gets up to sit beside you and gives your hand a squeeze. Well, you can't think like that. All we can do is take things one day at a time. You give her a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach your eyes. You know what? Let me see where I put that coupon book. Our husbands are going off to fight for freedom. We can't just abandon freedom at home by living by these insane restrictions. Are you sure? Of course I'm sure. The kids have been wearing through their shoes anyways. I'll need those coupons of yours. Oh, thank you, Dorothy. This is going to mean the world to our family.

As Dorothy leaves the room to find her purse, you take another sip of tea. Think about how much your life has changed in just a few short months. How much longer will you have to live like this? Americans found creative ways to deal with the shortages in their kitchen cabinets. But of all the restrictions on their lives, none were as onerous as the rationing of tires and gasoline. The federal government banned the sale of new tires shortly after Pearl Harbor, as Japan moved in on the rubber-rich islands of British Malaya and Indonesia. In January 1942, Leon Henderson, Roosevelt's economy czar,

announced an 80% cut to civilian rubber products in what he called the most drastic rationing program Americans have ever known. Henderson's advice to the public was simple and direct. Stop unnecessary driving. Almost immediately, Henderson was fighting price gouging by tire shops. Tire thefts went up nearly 50% in 10 major cities. Rubber rationing threatened the bottom lines of garages, gas stations, tourist camps, and hotels. As commuters left their cars at home

and flocked to buses and trolleys, public transportation systems were overwhelmed. To promote other ways of getting around, the government issued newsreels depicting Henderson wobbling on a victory bike in front of the Capitol steps, with his secretary perched in the front basket. But conflicting messages from politicians and media commentators made Americans skeptical that tire rationing was really necessary. Anti-Roosevelt newspapers published stories calling the rubber shortage a myth, confirming public doubts and resentment. Tire rationing was followed by gas rationing, which began on the East Coast in May 1942. Fuel was not in short supply, but the administration hoped that restricting gas would take cars off the road to help conserve rubber. The new program sparked a flurry of

protests in Congress. Legislators branded Henderson a dictator and a bureaucratic monster. Roosevelt realized it was time to step in. In June, he launched a nationwide scrap drive, urging Americans to search their basements and garages for spare rubber for the war effort. Amazingly, Americans collected 400,000 tons of scrap rubber, old rubber raincoats, garden hoses, galoshes, but it was still far below the 1.5 million tons Roosevelt needed to avoid further rationing. So gas rationing expanded nationwide, and with it the country's highways emptied out, carpools multiplied, and people spent more and more time at home. But as public frustrations mounted, legislators threatened to cut off funding for the OPA

unless Henderson was fired. The pressure worked. Henderson submitted his resignation in December. It became clear that Henderson's political skills never matched his economic brilliance. But his successors proved far more able at public relations. They learned from Henderson's mistakes and took special care to promote rationing through radio programs and magazine articles. Eventually, Americans grew more accepting of it. Price controls and rationing worked, and inflation stayed in check during the war. But price controls and rationing were just one part of protecting the wartime economy.

The government also needed to control wages, something that would spark widespread anger among organized labor. Roosevelt's arsenal of democracy was finally underway, but its ultimate success depended on the combined efforts of America's workers, its farmers, factory foremen, its miners and engineers, men and women of all races and all stations of life. Victory would demand coordinated manpower and national unity, something that was already showing signs of stress.

From Monterrey, this is Episode 1 of the World War II Homefront for American History Tellers. On the next episode, coal miners stage nationwide strikes threatening the nation's war production at a critical time. Racial tensions erupt in riots on the streets of Detroit and Los Angeles, and more than 100,000 people of Japanese ancestry are forced into detention camps. If you like American history tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.

American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Sound design by Derek Behrens. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by Ellie Stanton, edited by Dorian Marina. Our executive producers

are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louie. Created by Hernán López for Wondery. In the Pacific Ocean, halfway between Peru and New Zealand, lies a tiny volcanic island. It's a little-known British territory called Pitcairn, and it harboured a deep, dark scandal. There wouldn't be a girl on Pitcairn once they reached the age of 10 that was still a virgin. It just happens to all of us.

I'm journalist Luke Jones, and for almost two years, I've been investigating a shocking story that has left deep scars on generations of women and girls from Pitcairn. When there's nobody watching, nobody going to report it, people will get away with what they can get away with. In the Pitcairn

trials, I'll be uncovering a story of abuse and the fight for justice that has brought a unique, lonely, Pacific island to the brink of extinction. Listen to the Pitcairn Trials exclusively on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts or Spotify.