American History Tellers - Evolution on Trial | Duel to the Death | 3

Episode Date: July 23, 2025

On July 20, 1925, the trial of John Scopes continued in the stifling heat of the overcrowded county courthouse in Dayton, Tennessee. Tempers flared as the defense and prosecution sparred over the question of admitting testimony from scientific experts.The heat became too much to bear, and the judge announced that he was moving the trial outside. Some 3,000 spectators and reporters gathered on the courthouse lawn. Defense lawyer Clarence Darrow shocked the crowd by calling a surprise witness to the stand, in a last-ditch effort to undermine the fundamentalist movement once and for all.Be the first to know about Wondery’s newest podcasts, curated recommendations, and more! Sign up now at https://wondery.fm/wonderynewsletterListen to American History Tellers on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. Experience all episodes ad-free and be the first to binge the newest season. Unlock exclusive early access by joining Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial today by visiting wondery.com/links/american-history-tellers/ now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Picture this, you're transported back in time, witnessing history unfold right before your eyes, without any modern-day interruptions. That's the magic of Wondery+. Immerse yourself in the stories that shaped our nation with ad-free episodes, early access to new seasons, and exclusive bonus content. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts and experience American history like never before. Imagine it's the night of July 16, 1925 in downtown Dayton, Tennessee. You're the local police commissioner, and you're walking home after a long day keeping the peace outside the county courthouse. The heat hasn't let up all week

and that's made just about everyone cranky. You can feel sweat pooling beneath your hat as you turn the corner and come upon three middle-aged men loitering outside Robinson's drugstore. Their ruddy faces and scowling expressions suggest that they're drunk on bootleg liquor and looking for trouble. And when a man with slicked hair, parted in the middle, exits the store, you understand why these drunk men are hanging around and stewing. Just stepping into the street is Baltimore writer H.L. Menken, who's become a controversial visitor in town lately.

You see a confrontation brewing, so you step forward. Alright boys, let's move it along. One of the men begins to protest, but you tap your nightstick and cut him off with a look. As they wander off, you turn to Menken. He furrows his eyebrows. Oh, what? You come to chase me off too? No, I'm glad you're here. I've been meaning to talk to you. I think you need to leave town. Well, as much as I'd like to return to civilization, I can't leave until this trial's finished.

Well, listen, my suggestion is no joke. The town's getting tired of your insults, Manken. Folks have been reading your articles and we know what you've been calling us. Morons, hillbillies, peasants. Oh, come on now, I just think you don't understand my humor. Well then maybe it's time you go back to Baltimore, where you'll be understood better. Manken puts a cigarette between his lips and lights it with a polished silver lighter. He studies you carefully as he takes a long drag.

Well, so much for free speech, but then again, it seems you people are determined to make a mockery of the Constitution. You know, it's bad enough to see a teacher put on trial for teaching evolution, but I've also seen your cops silencing atheists, pulling them off soap boxes, telling them to shut up. I suppose you and your boys or the police force think it's your duty to save Dayton from the devil, so it can't have people like me polluting this bright and shining buckle of the Bible Belt.

You fold your arms across your chest and lean in closer, until you feel his cigarette smoke filling your nostrils. We're not going to let a bunch of heathen spread damnable nonsense, that's for sure. Now listen, this is your last warning. You need to get out of here before someone gets a mind to force you out. Manken takes another puff of his cigarette and holds your gaze. Something changes in his expression as your words sink in. Alright fine, I'll be on the first train this weekend. It's not like we don't know how this trial's gonna end anyways, right?

See you along, Commissioner. Manken walks off, leaving cigarette smoke lingering in his wake. You hope he follows through on his words, because you're sick of him reducing your hometown to a punchline for his own entertainment. You're obligated to keep the peace, but you won't be sorry to see the back of him reducing your hometown to a punchline for his own entertainment. You're obligated to keep the peace, but you won't be sorry to see the back of him. Business Wars gives you a front row seat to the biggest moments in business and how they shape our world. From boardroom blowups to strategies gone wrong, these are the stories behind the headlines. Listen to Business Wars on the Wondery app

or wherever you get your podcasts. My name is TJ Raphael. I'm the host of Liberty Lost, a new podcast about who gets to be a mother and the control of young women hidden behind the veil of faith. Binge all episodes of Liberty Lost ad free right now on Wondery Plus.

From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers, our history, your story. In July 1925, the famous columnist H.L. Mencken traveled to Dayton, Tennessee to cover the trial of John Scopes. Mencken's razor-sharp wit had helped shape the broader perception of the trial, but his withering observations about Dayton soon sparked outrage among local residents. The city's police commissioner would eventually urge him to leave town before their resentment escalated into violence. The tensions between Mencken and the people of Dayton spoke to the larger conflicts at the core of the Scopes trial, which not only pitted tradition against modernity, science against faith, but rural Americans against

urban Americans. But at its most basic, the trial was to determine the guilt of John Scopes. Did he teach evolution in conflict with state law? As the days wore on, most observers predicted a victory for William Jennings Bryan and the anti-evolution cause. But defense attorney Clarence Darrow had a trick up his sleeve, and soon he would unveil a surprise move that would bring the trial to an explosive climax. This is episode three, Duel to the Death. On the afternoon of Wednesday, July 15, 1925, spectators once again jammed into the upstairs courtroom of the Ray County Courthouse eager to watch an historic spectacle unfold. Earlier that day, Judge John Ralston had denied the defense's motion to throw out the indictment

of John Scopes, meaning the trial would continue and spectators would have to persevere through the heat wave that had broiled Dayton for nearly a week. That Wednesday was the hottest day so far. During the recess, Scopes had sought relief from the heat by swimming in a mountain pool, leading the defense attorneys to scold him when he arrived late to the afternoon session. Once all the participants were seated, Judge Ralston recalled the jury and asked each side to deliver their opening statement. District Attorney Tom Stewart spoke for the prosecution, delivering a simple, two-sentence statement. Quoting from the language of the Butler Act, he declared that Scopes had violated the anti-evolution law by teaching that mankind is descended from a lower order of animals. Therefore, he continued,

he has taught a theory which denies the story of divine creation of man as taught in the Bible. With this statement, the prosecution made it clear that they were focusing narrowly on proving that Scopes taught evolution and nothing more. But then New York attorney Dudley Malone rose for the defense. He argued that Scopes was actually accused of two separate crimes. The first was teaching evolution, but the second was contradicting the Bible. The defense had no plans to but the second was contradicting the Bible. The defense had no plans to deny that Scopes had committed the first crime, so his conviction on that charge was all but certain. Instead, the defense would dispute the second charge, that Scopes had taught a theory that contradicted the Bible.

Malone argued that Scopes had not violated the law because there was no conflict between evolution and the Bible, and the defense had assembled a group of expert witnesses to prove it, fifteen scientists and religious leaders and all. With this focus, the defense planned to launch a broader attack on the anti-evolution law itself. They knew Americans far beyond the courtroom were paying attention to this trial, listening to live radio coverage and reading daily news reports, and so they sought to speak to this national audience with the goal of winning an ideological battle not just a legal one. The trial continued after Malone finished his opening statement when District Attorney

Stewart called four witnesses for the prosecution, school superintendent Walter White, two students, and school board president Fred Robinson. Questioning each one in turn, Stewart laid out the case that Scopes had taught evolution from the textbook Hunter's Civic Biology. But when Clarence Darrow rose for cross-examination, he quickly poked holes in the prosecution's seemingly straightforward argument. He highlighted the fact that Hunter's Civic Biology was the state-approved textbook, and that Fred Robinson even sold the book in his drugstore,

despite being a member of the school board. The crowd laughed at Darros Jabs and Stewart, realizing he was on the back foot, decided against calling further witnesses, and rested the prosecution's case less than an hour after he had begun. So next it was the defense's turn to put witnesses on the stand. The defense had decided against having Scopes testify. He later reflected that he was a mere ringside observer at his own trial. But he understood that he was not the most important player in the room. The defense did not dispute that he had taught evolution.

Their concern instead was whether teaching evolution truly violated the law and this would require expert testimony affirming that evolution and Christianity were compatible. So instead of calling scopes to the stand, the defense's first witness was zoologist Maynard Metcalf, a staunch evolutionist and John Hopkins University professor who also taught Sunday school at his church. But Judge Ralston had not yet decided whether expert testimony was relevant to the case and admissible. So to avoid tainting the jury, Ralston sent the jurors out of the courtroom while Metcalf testified. Once the jury was dismissed, Darrow began his questioning. Metcalf proceeded to deliver a clear and compelling case for evolution,

until Judge Ralston had to interrupt to adjourn court for the day. The next day, July 16, debate about the relevance of expert testimony continued. While the jury waited outside the courtroom, nearly every lawyer on both teams weighed in on the matter. The defense argued that the expert witnesses were critical to proving their case, but still Judge Rolston could not make up his mind. The trial was now in its fifth day, and so far Star Prosecutor William Jennings Bryan had said very little. But during the noon recess, rumors spread that Bryan would finally address the court after lunch, and at 1.30 p.m. silence fell over the packed

courtroom as Bryan rose to speak for the first time. Outside, hushed crowds gathered around the loudspeakers connected to the courtroom microphones. Brian then launched into an hour-long assault on the teaching of evolution. He argued that evolution turned man into just another animal, raging, how dare those scientists put man in a little ring like that with lions and tigers and everything that is bad. He then turned his long-standing argument for majority control over public education, declaring, parents have a right to say that no teacher paid by their money shall rob their children of faith in God and send them back to their home skeptics

or infidels or agnostics or atheists. Next, Brian insisted that Darwinism encouraged selfish and cruel behavior. As evidence he read aloud from Darrow's defense of the young Chicago murderers Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb, arguing that Darrow had blamed their crimes on having read the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, who embraced the concept of survival of the fittest. Finally, Brian concluded by returning to the issue of expert witnesses, declaring, The one beauty about the word of God is, it does not take an expert to understand it. The gallery burst into applause. As Brian returned to his seat, Dudley Malone stood to

respond for the defense. Initially, locals had been suspicious of this dapper city slicker, who was a divorced Catholic, but over the course of the week he had managed to earn their admiration, in part because he was the only participant to keep his coat on in court despite the heat. Scopes later recalled how Malone rose to answer Brian. He performed the most effective act anyone could have thought of to get the audience's undivided attention. He took off his coat. He folded it neatly and laid it carefully on the council's table. And as a result, every eye was on him before he had said a single word. Then, leaning against the defense table, Malone spoke in a low and quiet voice. But his volume slowly crept upwards as he

launched into his own impassioned speech, making a forceful plea for freedom and the pursuit of knowledge. Referring back to when Brian had previously framed the trial as a duel to the death, Malone countered, there is never a duel with the truth. The truth always wins and we are not afraid of it. The truth is no coward. The truth does not need the law. The truth does not need the forces of government. The truth does not need Mr. Brian.

We feel we stand with fundamental freedom in America. We are not afraid. Where is the fear? We meet it. Where is the fear? We defy it. Malone's words electrified the room. The audience again erupted into loud and sustained

applause, including a police officer who pounded the table so hard with his nightstick that the surface cracked. Then Ralston adjourned court for the day and the gallery emptied. Brian admitted to Malone, "'Dudley, that was the greatest speech I have ever heard. And none other than John Butler, the author of the Butler Act, called it the finest speech of this century. While this war of words had roused hearts and minds, the court had still not resolved the issue at hand, the relevance of expert testimony. But the next day, July 17, Judge Ralston finally announced his decision. The defense's team scientists would not be allowed

to testify before the jury. Ralston ultimately agreed with the prosecution's argument that what mattered was whether Scopes had taught evolution, not whether evolution contradicted the Bible. This was a crushing blow to the defense. Darrow had more than a dozen scientists holed up in an abandoned mansion on the edge of town waiting to take the stand and make the case for evolution. But even if these experts would not be allowed to testify before the jury, Darrow hoped that they could at least take the stand with the jury excluded from the room.

He asked the court that their testimony be entered into the record, hoping to make it available for future reference when the case was appealed to a higher court. But the ensuing debate over these procedural details turned into one of the most blistering arguments of the trial. Imagine it's the afternoon of July 17, 1925 at the Ray County Courthouse in Dayton, Tennessee. You're the circuit court judge presiding over the trial of John Scopes. And once again, an argument has broken out in your courtroom. Clarence Darrow wants his scientific experts to take the stand without the jury present

to have their testimony entered into the court records for future appeals. The prosecution is insisting that if this happens, they be allowed to cross-examine the witnesses. Darrow paces in front of your bench with his thumbs hooked in his suspenders, eyes blazing. The prosecution has no right to cross-examine the witnesses. Cross-examination should only be allowed if the court permits them to testify before the jury. And since the court has declined to do that, the defense is simply trying to create a record of the expert's statements for any future appeal.

Mr. Darrow, the prosecution simply wants to hold the witnesses under scrutiny. The purpose of cross-examination is to ascertain the truth. Has there been any effort to ascertain the truth in this case? I'm not aware of any. The room breaks out in laughter. You bang your gavel to silence the disruption. Mr. Darrow, the prosecution has every right to cross-examine any witness taking a stand, whether the jury is present or not.

Otherwise, the defense may submit written affidavits or read prepared statements into the record. Darrow folds his arms across his chest. Well, fine, the defense will submit written affidavits. But in that case, I would like to request the rest of the day to compose them. The rest of the day? Is that truly necessary? Well, your honor took half a day off to write an opinion.

I did not. Why is it that every request of the prosecution is discussed endlessly, but the defense is immediately overruled? I hope you do not mean to call the impartiality of the court into question Daryl's lip curls. Well, your honor has the right to hope Room bursts into laughter again, but you feel like you've been slapped in the face. I have the right to do something else, Mr. Darrow. I could hold you in contempt. All right, all right. Darrow hunches up his shoulders and throws up his hands. You can see by his expression that he knows he's gone too far, but the gallery is loving the show and you're furious that Darrow has turned

your courthouse into his own personal theater. You are furious that Darrow has turned your courthouse into his own personal theater." Tempers flared between Judge Ralston and Clarence Darrow on the afternoon of July 17. Sitting in the gallery, H. L. Menken observed that Darrow had hit Ralston with a metaphorical custard pie. Ralston responded to Darrow's outbursts by threatening to charge him with contempt of court, but nonetheless, he agreed to recess until Monday so that defense witnesses could prepare their affidavits. This seemed to be the defeat of the defense, so believing that the trial was over,

Mencken and most other reporters left town. But Mencken, of course, had another reason for leaving early. His scathing commentary had not escaped the notice of local residents who began threatening violence. Dayton's police commissioner had warned him to flee town and told the press, I hope nobody lays hands on him. I've stopped them once, but I may not be there to dissuade them if it happens again. But for most everyone else, the reason to leave town was that the circus had come to an end.

Over the weekend, the Nashville banner affirmed, It does not seem possible that anything can transpire to make the trial of John T. Scopes interesting again. The prosecutors were confident in their victory, and Bryan began making speeches promising to carry his fight against evolution to other states. But Clarence Darrow had one more move to make. With the court in recess, he made plans to spring a trap in the hopes of dealing the anti-evolution movement a decisive blow. Before the internet ruled our lives, AOL brought America online with email and instant message.

By 2000, AOL was so powerful, it bought media giant Time Warner. This was a deal that was supposed to bring us into the future, revolutionize media, but instead it became one of the messiest corporate disasters in history. So what went wrong? The dot com crash? Culture clashes? Or something deeper? Business wars gives you a front row seat to the biggest moments in business and how they

shape our world because when your flight perks disappear, your favorite restaurant chain goes bankrupt or new tech threatens to reshape everything overnight, you can bet there's a deeper story behind the headlines. Make sure to follow Business Wars on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts and you can binge all episodes of Business Wars the AOL Time Warner disaster early and ad free right now on Wondery Plus. Today is the worst day of Abby's life. The 17-year-old cradles her newborn son in her arms. They all saw how much I loved him. They didn't have to take him from me. Between 1945 and the early 1970s, families shipped their

pregnant teenage daughters to maternity homes and forced them to secretly place their babies for adoption. In hidden corners across America, it's still happening. My parents had me locked up in the Godparent home against my will. They worked with them to manipulate me and to steal my son away from me. The Godparent Home is the brainchild of controversial preacher Jerry Falwell, the father of the modern evangelical right and the founder of Liberty University, where powerful men, emboldened by their faith, determine who gets to be a parent and who must give their child away. Follow Liberty Lost on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. On the morning of Monday, July 20, 1925,

lingering spectators filled the Dayton courthouse early, eager to witness closing arguments in the trial of John Scopes. When Judge John Ralston arrived at 9 o'clock, he was forced to squeeze through the crowds to reach the bench. After the opening prayer, Ralston then began by announcing that he had decided to hold Clarence Darrow in contempt of court for his Friday afternoon outburst. He ordered him to appear in court the next day for sentencing and to pay a $5,000 bond. Darrow did not protest and a Chattanooga lawyer assisting the defense volunteered to post the bond on Darrow's behalf. Shortly after, the trial got back on track. The next hour was occupied by a debate over how the defense should submit its expert testimony

into the records for appeal. In the end, the attorneys reached a compromise. The statements were entered into the written record as the prosecution wanted, but Ralston allowed the defense to read excerpts of the testimony aloud in service of their goal to educate the public about evolution. These readings took up the rest of the morning while temperatures climbed in the overcrowded courtroom. Then, when court reconvened after the lunchtime recess, Darrow rose and apologized for his Friday remarks, admitting,

I went further than I should have gone. Ralston accepted Darrow's apology and dismissed the contempt citation, but not before delivering a short sermon on Tennessee honor and reciting a poem about Christian forgiveness. Then Ralston surprised the court by announcing he was moving the proceedings outside. He claimed that overcrowding had caused cracks to appear in the downstairs ceiling, but Scope suspected the real reason for the move was that the judge could no longer stand the man-killing heat. Walking out onto the courthouse lawn, all participants took their places on a wooden

speaker's platform built under the shade of maple trees. The spectators and reporters gathered in the grass. Some sat on benches while others planted themselves on the ground. By then, Scopes had long been forgotten, and he welcomed the chance to step out of the spotlight. He sat in the audience, taking notes for a reporter who had already left town. And with everyone more comfortable outside, everything seemed to be moving ahead to its conclusion. But when Ralston was about to summon the jury for closing arguments, Darrow issued an objection. A large banner with the words, Read Your Bible, had been hanging over the courthouse for a

week. Darrow didn't want that banner influencing the jury, and Ralston agreed to have it taken down. But what happened next shocked the crowd. Instead of proceeding to his closing argument, Darrow called what happened next shocked the crowd. Instead of proceeding to his closing argument, Darrow called a surprise witness to the stand, William Jennings Bryan. All at once the prosecutors leapt to their feet and objected. To most observers, the idea of a defense lawyer calling the opposing counsel to the stand was absurd. Judge Ralston likely would have

agreed with the prosecutor's objections, but before he could interject, Brian himself rose to his feet and insisted on his right to testify. This was the move Darrow had spent the weekend plotting. He announced that he wanted the testimony of a Bible expert to supplement the record for appeal. And Brian had long been one of America's most vocal, self-proclaimed Bible experts. But Darrow's true goal was to expose the contradictions in Brian's literal interpretations of the Bible and win in the court of public opinion. But Brian was eager for the platform and stepped willingly into the trap. He was still smarting from Dudley Malone's blistering speech four days earlier, which had received

far more praise than his own. He was eager to have another chance to make his case, but more than anything, he had come to Dayton on a mission to defend religion, and he believed that in this moment his chance had arrived. The crowd swelled as word spread that Bryan was taking the stand. Some three thousand men, women, and children sprawled out on the lawn, and vendors weaved through the crowd selling soda. Bryan took his seat for what the New York Times called the most amazing court scene in history. Darrow started with a simple question, asking, "'You've given considerable study to the Bible, haven't you, Mr. Bryan?' Bryan affirmed that he had.

Darrow then asked whether Bryan believed that everything in the Bible should be literally interpreted, and Bryan replied, "'I believe everything in the Bible should be accepted as it is given there. Then Darrow launched into a series of questions to put Brian's professed beliefs about the Bible to the test. He asked whether Jonah had actually been swallowed by a whale, whether Joshua had in fact made the sun stand still, and whether the world's languages really came from the Tower of Babel. This was the trap Darrow had set for Brian. If Brian stubbornly insisted that everything in the

Bible must be taken literally, to many he would look ridiculous. But if he admitted that some of the stories were parables, he would alienate his fundamentalist supporters. And then if he dared concede that the Bible was open to interpretation, it would bolster the defense's argument that evolution and the Bible were compatible. So as his testimony proceeded, at times Bryan affirmed his literal readings of the Bible, but other times he hedged, admitting that he did not know. Bryan's other prosecutors started to worry that they were losing control of the case. Chief Prosecutor Tom Stewart repeatedly issued objections to try to bring Darrow's questioning to an end. But Judge Ralston showed no interest in stopping

the show, and Bryan was determined to continue, even as his anger at Darrow mounted. Replying to one of District Attorney Stewart's objections, Darrow claimed, We have the purpose of preventing bigots and ignoramuses from controlling the education of the United States. And at this, Brian jumped up and shook his fist at Darrow, crying, I am simply trying to protect the word of God against the greatest atheist or agnostic in the United States. But Darrow had been counting on using Brian's passion for protecting the word of God against him.

And as he pressed on with his relentless barrage of questions, Brian found himself becoming increasingly tangled in his opponent's snare. Imagine it's July 20th, 1925, on the lawn of the Ray County Courthouse in Dayton, Tennessee. You're one of the attorneys for John Scopes, and for nearly two hours you've been grilling your opposing counsel, William Jennings Brian, as an expert witness on the Bible. The afternoon sun burns hot on the back of your neck, but you know that no one's feeling more heat than Bryan. You step forward, ready to begin your next line of questioning. Mr. Bryan, do you believe that Eve was the first woman?

Bryan nods, wiping the sweat off his brow with his sleep. Yes. Do you believe she was literally made from Adam's rib? Yes. I see. Did you ever discover how Adam and Eve's son Cain got his wife? Some of the spectators laugh at your jab, and Brian's face turns redder despite the fan he's waving in front of his face.

No sir, I'll leave it to the agnostics to hunt for her. Moving on, Mr. Brian, could you tell me how old the earth is? No sir, I could not. Well, the Bible says, in six tell me how old the earth is? No, sir, I could not. Well, the Bible says, in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them. Do you think the earth was created in six days? Well, not twenty-four hour days. But doesn't the Bible say so, when it says, and God called the firmament heaven, and the

evening and the morning were the second day? This description of evening and morning refers to a twenty-four hour day, does it not? No, not necessarily. Let's try to be more clear, Mr. Bryant. Do you think it means a 24-hour day or not? I know a great many think it does. Yes, but what do you think? I do not think it does. There it is, the opening you've been waiting for. You can feel the sea of sunburned faces turn to you as you get ready to pounce. Ah, so you do not think those were literal 24-hour days. My impression is that they were periods of time. Do you have any idea the length of these periods? No, I do not. The Bible says that on the fourth day of creation, God created the sun, the moon,

and the stars. Do you agree that the sun was made on the fourth day? Well, yes, yes. So for three days, three periods, as it were, they had evening and morning without the sun? Another ripple of laughter spreads throughout the crowd, Ryan frowns. I am simply saying that a day, as mentioned in the scripture, is a period. You smile faintly. You've got them right where you want them, but you won't rest until you've made your point as clear as possible. All right, but now if you call those days periods, they may have been a very long time. They may have been.

And creation might have been going on for a very long time. Well, yes, it might have continued for millions of years. Not millions of years. That's very, very different from six days. millions of years. That's very, very different from six days. Ryan blanches as he realizes you've cornered him. You forced him to admit that the Bible is open to interpretation. You may not win this case, but you know you're on the brink of a bigger victory. As Darrow continued his rapid-fire questioning, he asked William Jennings Bryan whether he

believed the earth was created in six days. A red-faced Bryan admitted that the six days of creation were not literal 24-hour days, but metaphorical days symbolizing longer periods of time. And with this, Bryan had finally conceded that the words of the Bible should not always be taken literally. Scopes later wrote, When Brian admitted the earth had not been made in six days of twenty-four hours, the fundamentalists gasped. It was the great shock that Darrow had been laboring for all afternoon. And after two hours of questioning, this great shock pushed Brian over the edge. He snapped, accusing Darrow of attempting to slur at the Bible.

Darrow fired back, denouncing Brian's fool ideas that no intelligent Christian on Earth believes. By then, both men were on their feet, trembling with rage. Sensing that the tension was boiling over, Judge Ralston banged his gavel on the table and abruptly ordered the court adjourned until the following morning. Darrow's supporters jumped up to congratulate him. Newspapers around the country printed complete transcripts of the day. And while the national press declared Darrow the victor, Southerners were more sympathetic to Brian. One Chattanooga editor branded Darrow's interrogation a thing of immense cruelty. But Darrow was pleased with his own performance. He wrote

to a friend, I made up my mind to show the country what an ignoramus Brian was, and I succeeded. The next morning, a light rain fell on Dayton, forcing the trial back indoors. Judge Ralston began proceedings by declaring Brian's testimony irrelevant and striking it from the record. Then it was time for the two sides to make their closing arguments, and this was the moment Brian had been waiting for. He had spent weeks preparing a searing speech against evolution. But Darrow still had a final card to play. He announced that he was waiving his right to make a closing argument.

And this meant that by law, Brian would not be allowed to make his closing statement. He was deeply disappointed, but he was already making plans to repurpose his words into a new stump speech. So all that was left to do was for Ralston to summon the jury back into the courtroom. Over the course of this eight-day trial, these jurors had been present for just two hours of testimony, and they had missed all of the major speeches. Then, once the jurors were seated, Judge Ralston instructed them to decide whether John Scopes had indeed violated the law by teaching evolution in a Tennessee classroom. The members of the jury then huddled in the hallway, not even bothering to take the time

to sit down to deliberate. And just nine minutes later, they returned their verdict, declaring Scopes guilty. Ralston sentenced him to pay a $100 fine. A minister delivered a closing prayer, and then the court was adjourned. Crowds rushed forward to congratulate both Bryan and Darrow because at last, the case newspapers had touted as the trial of the century had come to an end. But the battle over its meaning and the fight over teaching evolution had only just begun. had only just begun. In 1992, federal agents surrounded a remote cabin in the mountains of Idaho. It belonged to Randy Weaver, a Christian survivalist with links to the far right. Weaver was wanted on a minor weapons charge, but a series of blunders and misunderstandings

turned the situation into an armed and deadly standoff. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery Show American Scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in U.S. history, presidential lies, environmental disasters, and corporate fraud. In our latest series, a family of religious fanatics moves to Ruby Ridge in northern Idaho to wait out the apocalypse. But their paranoia and suspicion of authority lead to a confrontation with federal law enforcement and their own personal Armageddon. Follow American Scandal on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. Experience all episodes ad-free and be the first to binge newest seasons only on Wondery Plus.

You can join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial today. Hello, I'm Dak Shepard. And I'm Monica Padman. And we love talking to people. Every Monday and Wednesday, we sit down with actors, authors, scientists, really anyone interesting, and have real honest conversations about life, success, failure, and everything in between. We get vulnerable, we get nerdy, and yes, I occasionally overshare. Me too. And I would say more than occasionally.

Yeah, but some of our favorite stories actually come from you, our listeners. That's why we created Armchair Anonymous. Yes, every Friday on Armchair Anonymous, we get to hear your funniest, weirdest, most jaw-dropping confessions. And boy, have you delivered. Yeah, from disastrous dates to family secrets

to the time you accidentally joined a cult or evacuated without authorization. We really have heard it all. Yes, we have, and we love it. So come pull up a chair. Follow Armchair Expert on the Wondry app or wherever you get your podcasts, and subscribe to Armchair Expert on YouTube. Although Clarence Darrow had made William Jennings Bryan an object of ridicule, Bryan was not about to back down. Having lost as a presidential candidate three times, Bryan was accustomed to rallying from a setback, and he could take comfort in the fact that he and his team had won their case

against John Scopes. The court had upheld the anti-evolution law. So determined to build on the trial's momentum, Brian quickly launched his next offensive, turning his unused closing argument into a fiery new stump speech against evolution. And over the next few days, large crowds in other parts of Tennessee turned out to see Brian speak. He hoped it would be the beginning of a national crusade against the teaching of evolution. But his wife and closest advisor did not share his enthusiasm. Imagine it's July 26th, 1925, and you're driving through the forests of East Tennessee with your husband, William Jennings Bryan.

You're headed to his next speaking engagement in the town of Winchester. And as he navigates the winding roads, he's been talking non-stop about his plans to challenge the teaching of evolution on a national stage. And so the way I see it, first we must establish the rights of taxpayers to control what is taught in their children's schools. Then we must draw a line between teaching evolution as a theory and teaching it as a fact. These teachers are robbing children of their moral compasses and we need to put a stop to it. You fiddle with your collar and stare out the window. You're your husband's closest confidant, and you feel you cannot remain silent any longer.

William, I'm worried about you. You're wearing yourself down. He glances at you, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Oh, nonsense. I'm just getting started. Well, I thought we might go home, now that the trial's over. We could both use the rest, and you said you needed to work on your memoirs. Oh, no, no, no, not just yet. I can't give up now. I've got to keep the movement going. I want to address the Arkansas State Legislature, perhaps Texas after that.

But you're running yourself ragged. I fear this campaign of yours is getting awfully close to crossing the line. What do you mean, crossing the line? Well, it's one thing to argue that taxpayers should control public education. That's perfectly legitimate work, but it's starting to feel like you're encroaching on individual beliefs. That, that's a sacred domain that you have no right to interfere with. I don't think I'm doing anything of the sort.

Darling, you're not acting like the man I know. Your religious zeal, It's approaching intolerance. I haven't made that mistake yet, but can you truly say you're on the right path? Your husband grins, and in his boyish smile, you can see a flicker of the man you married 40 years ago. I think I can say I am on the right path, but can you control your followers?

His smile falters. Yes, yeah, I think I could. You catch a hint of doubt in his voice, and you're filled with the sinking feeling that despite his good intentions, the movement your husband started is rapidly spiraling out of control. And you fear that no matter how hard you try, there's nothing you can do to stop it now. In the days after the trial, William Jennings Bryan ignored the pleas of his wife Mary, who urged him to slow down.

On Saturday, July 26, thousands flocked to hear him speak in Winchester, Tennessee. He told a reporter, If I should die tomorrow, I believe that on the basis of the accomplishments of the last few weeks, I could truthfully say, well done. The next day, Brian attended church service in Dayton before settling down for an afternoon nap, but he never woke up. Brian died from a stroke. For more than a decade, he had suffered from diabetes and the stress of the trial took a toll on his already deteriorating health. But news of his death, coming just five days after the trial's conclusion, shocked the country. His supporters viewed him as a martyr for the cause, while Bryan's

critics jokingly blamed Darrow for breaking his heart. H. L. Menken told a friend, well, we killed the son of a bitch. Menken's obituary of Bryan was so merciless that his editors forced him to rewrite it. But while much of the nation mourned Bryan, Dayton, Tennessee, quieted down in the days after the trial. Despite the grand hopes of the boosters who initiated the test case, little had changed in this sleepy town. Only roughly 500 visitors stayed in Dayton during the trial, and half of that number

were members of the press. There was no lasting effect on the local economy. And in fact, before the week was over, the town had even lost a resident. John Scopes left Dayton for good, eager to put the whole ordeal behind him. Although the school board offered to renew his teaching contract, provided that he comply with the anti-evolution law, he decided to attend graduate school for geology. He credited the scientists for the defense with inspiring his decision explaining, they had broadened my view of the world.

Meanwhile, both sides continued to do battle in the court of public opinion. In the decades that followed, the trial would pass into legend, with popular accounts giving Bryan the legal win and Darrow the moral victory. But in 1925, journalists and commentators were less certain. Especially in Tennessee, many newspapers claimed that Brian had held his own. And even in northern cities, the trials' result, combined with the outpouring of grief that followed Brian's death, convinced many that momentum was shifting in favor of fundamentalism. A liberal journal The Nation predicted that the country would soon see a flood of anti-evolution laws in the wake of the trial, and H. L. Mencken warned, the evil that men do lives after them. Brian, in his malice, started something that will not be easy to stop.

And although Brian's humiliation in Dayton is often remembered as the death knell for fundamentalism, in the aftermath of the Scopes trial, fundamentalists regrouped. In the 1930s, they founded separatist schools, colleges, publishing houses, and radio ministries to promote fundamentalism and continue their attacks on evolution. At the same time, the defenders of civil liberties also rallied. In the weeks after the trial, the American Civil Liberties Union went to work on their appeal. The process dragged on for 18 months, and finally, in January 1927, the Tennessee Supreme Court upheld the Butler Act, but reversed the decision of the Dayton Court on a technicality. Judge Ralston had set the $100 fine when by law the fine should have been set by the jury.

But rather than send the case back to Ray County, the state Supreme Court dismissed it entirely, commenting, nothing is to be gained by prolonging the life of this bizarre case. And with that decision, the defense had no room for further appeal. It was not the ruling on constitutional grounds that Darrow wanted, and he complained, the whole matter is left in an unsettled condition. This uncertainty allowed anti-evolution efforts to surge across the South. On the local level, school boards enacted various limits on teaching evolution. On the

state level, Texas and Louisiana removed evolution from their state-approved textbooks, and Mississippi and Arkansas passed laws banning the teaching of evolution entirely. But in northern states, efforts to pass anti-evolution bills ended in failure. Even so, by the 1930s, national textbook publishers quietly removed or softened content on evolution to cater to southern markets. Their self-censorship transformed American biology classrooms for decades. And it was not until the 1960s that shifting values made anti-evolution laws seem out of step with modern times. Cold War fears about falling behind the Soviet Union in science and technology spurred federal

investment in science education, and new biology textbooks emphasizing evolution were widely adopted. The Supreme Court drew new boundaries between church and state, issuing decisions barring religious instruction, school prayer, and Bible readings in public schools, and courts and state legislatures began addressing outdated statutes. In 1967, Tennessee repealed the Butler Act, and one year later the underlying constitutional issues of the Scopes case were finally resolved when the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Arkansas's 1928 anti-evolution law on the grounds that it violated the First Amendment.

But the fundamental tensions at the heart of the Scopes trial endured. This case had turned a quiet Tennessee town into a national media frenzy and exposed the fault lines of a rapidly changing nation. And a century later, the trial remains a symbol of ongoing struggles over academic freedom, the separation of church and state, and the question of whether to cling to the past or step into the future. From Wondery, this is episode 3 of our three-part series, Evolution on Trial for American History Tellers.

In the next episode, I'll speak about the significance of the Scopes trial 100 years later with Brenda Wineapple, author of the best-selling book Keeping the Faith, God, Democracy, and the trial that riveted a nation. 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. Audio editing by Krishan Peraga. Sound by Molly Bott Supervising Sound Designer Matthew Filler

Music by Lindsey Graham This episode is written by Ellie Stanton Edited by Dorian Marina Produced by Alita Rozanski Managing Producer Desi Blaylock Senior Managing Producer Callum Pluse Senior Producer Andy Herman Executive Producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman, Marshall Louie, and Aaron O'Flaherty for Wondering.

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