American History Tellers - Roaring Twenties | How the Money Rolls In | 3

Episode Date: October 13, 2021

In 1921, Republican President Warren G. Harding entered the White House, ushering in a new era of conservative government. Harding was elected by Americans yearning for tradition and old-fashioned values. But they put in power one of the most scandal-ridden presidencies in American history.Harding filled his administration with corrupt cronies who exploited their offices for personal gain. Americans were shocked as the details of Teapot Dome and other scandals came to light, even after Harding’s abrupt death brought his presidency to a premature end.But no controversy could sustain Americans’ attention for long in a new era of mass consumerism. As the economy boomed, a bitter rivalry between the two carmaking giants, Ford and GM, brought the power of advertising and marketing to new heights.Listen to new episodes 1 week early and to all episodes ad free with Wondery+. Join Wondery+ for exclusives, binges, early access, and ad free listening. Available in the Wondery App https://wondery.app.link/historytellers.Support us by supporting our sponsors!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. Imagine it's August 1922. You're the editor of a fledgling newspaper in Albuquerque, New Mexico. You're in your office, hard at work on a new expose about Albert Fall, the Interior Secretary and a key member of President Harding's cabinet. Fall is a former New Mexico senator, and he's known to be deeply in debt. But lately, he's been flaunting some newfound wealth. You've been looking into his finances,

and what you've found so far is damning. You. I need to talk to you. A man charges into your office. You recognize him as one of Falls' cronies here in New Mexico. Have you heard of knocking? Or, here's a wild idea, making an appointment? I hear you've been putting your nose where it doesn't belong, talking to locals about Three Rivers.

It's none of your business what goes on at Secretary Falls Ranch. Oh, it sure is. Falls a public servant. And lately, let's see. You grab a legal pad from your desk and flip it open to some of your interview notes. Yeah, until recently, that old ranch was dilapidated. Now the road's been paved. There are pillars flanking the entrance. New cement cattle guards.

I spoke with an electrician who said he did a $40,000 job there. The man's eyes widen, clearly surprised by how much you've discovered. Ah, so what? He's allowed to make repairs? Of course he is. But it's awful curious. Why is it curious? Well, you've got to wonder where he got the cash. It's no secret that the man is flat broke. Everyone knows he

owes a decade's worth of back taxes. The man approaches your desk and slams his fist down, knocking a glass of water all over your papers. God, watch it. No, you watch it. If you don't stop poking around, Fall is going to run you out of business. Again. You remember what happened at the journal. You do. And it's no empty threat being made. A few months ago, Fall put pressure on your old newspaper's financial backers, who forced you to close up shop. Since then, you've had to fight tooth and nail to get this new paper up and running.

Oh, I remember it very well. Well, if you keep this up, Fall's going to sue you for criminal libel. And that's just the start of it. He'll get your advertisers to boycott you. Oh, let him try. I know I'm on to something, and I'm going to keep reporting it. Oh, you'll be sorry. Can I quote you on that? That finally shuts the man up. He glowers at you one last time, then storms out of your office. You look down at the water-soaked pages of your draft and put a new piece of paper into your typewriter. You're certain that you're getting close to exposing a major scandal,

something that could reveal the corruption at the heart of the Warren G. Harding administration. It's the kind of national story that will win you advertisers, not lose them. And you're determined to get to the bottom of it. Threats be damned. I'm Sachi Cole. And I'm Sarah Hagee.

And we're the hosts of Scamfluencers, a weekly podcast from Wondery that takes you along the twists and turns of the most infamous scams of all time, the impact on victims, and what's left once the facade falls away. Follow Scamfluencers on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery comes a new series about a lawyer who broke all the rules. Need to launder some money? Broker a deal with a drug cartel?

Take out a witness? Paul can do it. I'm your host, Brandon Jinks Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney 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. In 1922, New Mexico newspaper editor Carl McGee helped uncover what became known as the Teapot Dome scandal, a major scheme that revealed corruption at the highest level of government. It was just one of several scandals to tarnish

the administration of President Warren G. Harding. Harding had won election in 1920, promising conservative, business-friendly government and a return to normalcy. After the upheavals of World War I, the Spanish flu pandemic, and widespread labor unrest, American voters enthusiastically backed his call for restoring traditional values. But soon they would discover rampant corruption within his ranks. But even as Harding's presidency unraveled, the economy on his watch continued to churn, creating unprecedented prosperity and record corporate profits. The backbone of this new consumer economy would be the automobile, propelled by mass production,

easy access to credit, and a newly sophisticated advertising industry. For some, mass consumer culture was a sign of economic progress, rising living standards, and a modernizing nation. For others, it sparked anxiety that America was losing its way, hurtling down a dangerous path. This is Episode 3, How the Money Rolls In. On March 4, 1921, Warren G. Harding took the oath of office of the presidency. In his inaugural address, he laid out his goals in his typically verbose style, telling the crowds, Our supreme task is the resumption of our onward normal way. Reconstruction, readjustment, restoration, all these must follow. We must strive for normalcy to reach stability.

His words were ponderous, but his message was clear. After the turmoil and strife of war, disease, and labor strikes, Harding would keep things on a steady course, with conservative policies that made sure business had a clear path to profit. As soon as Harding moved into the White House, he threw open the gates, which had been padlocked since his predecessor Woodrow Wilson suffered a stroke and withdrew from the public. Visitors came in droves for a chance and withdrew from the public. Visitors came in droves for a chance to shake hands with the president. But while the genial Harding was well-liked by the American people, he was a man of limited intellect who often found the job overwhelming.

He struggled to make sense of policy matters and admitted to a friend, I'm not fit for this office and I should never have been here. Harding had been a compromise candidate for the Republicans. Chosen for his affable nature and reassuring demeanor, he was seen as an ideal match for a war-weary nation. He was seen as hardworking, but also liked to busy himself with poker, golf, and his longtime mistress, a secretary named Nan Britton. Harding was well aware of his own limitations, and promised to

staff his cabinet with what he called the best minds of the Republican Party. He named the brilliant former New York governor Charles Evans Hughes as Secretary of State and tapped Pittsburgh multimillionaire Andrew W. Mellon for Secretary of Treasury. Mellon was the third richest man in America, and he quickly made good on Harding's campaign promise of less government in business and more business in government with a series of tax reductions for large corporations and wealthy individuals. To run the Commerce Department, Harding turned to Herbert Hoover. Hoover's life was a classic rags-to-riches story.

Born into poverty and orphaned at age nine, Hoover became a famous mining engineer and multimillionaire businessman by the time he was 40. During World War I, he directed relief efforts in Belgium and served as a popular food administrator, charged with keeping food prices stable. Hoover raised the Commerce Department to a level of importance that rivaled the Treasury and State Departments. He boosted foreign trade and helped business and government leaders work together to increase profits. A common joke in Washington was that Hoover was not only the Commerce Secretary, but also the Undersecretary of everything else. He brought energy and efficiency to government, helping to

manage everything from housing standards to labor to the regulation of radio and commercial aviation. The New York Times heaped praise on him, describing Hoover as an almost supernatural figure whose wisdom encompassed all branches. But along with the best minds of the Republican Party, Harding also packed his administration with longtime friends and political associates from his home state of Ohio. He made a county sheriff, the director of the U.S. Mint. To head the Federal Reserve Board, he chose a childhood friend whose main qualification was working in a small-town bank. Many of Harding's appointees would abuse their offices for personal gain. Controversy swirled around a group of Harding's hard-drinking,

poker-playing cronies known as the Ohio Gang. Soon, Harding's inability to detect the moral failings of his corrupt friends would come to haunt his administration. Imagine it's June 1921. You're a clerk to a district court judge. You're in the dining room of a small house on K Street in Washington, D.C., sitting around a poker table with a group of government employees. The air is thick with cigar smoke, and bootleg alcohol is flowing freely. This home is the headquarters of the Ohio Gang, and you're not just here to play poker. You've come to get a word in with one of the Ohio gang leaders, a man named Jess Smith. He's the personal secretary to the Attorney General, Harry Doherty, which

makes him valuable to you and your boss. You look down in disgust at another losing hand. So far, tonight has not been your night. Oh, that's it, boys. I fold. Jess Smith grins at you as he slides the poker chips over to his side of the table. You'll get them next time, kid. Let me fix you a drink to drown your sorrows. I just got a delivery from my best guy. Smith walks over to a bar on the other side of the room and pours you a glass of whiskey.

Thanks, Jeff. While we're between hands, let's talk a little business. Well, if you insist. I was just wondering if you'd heard anything about the status of our application for the circuit court position. We're on tenderhooks over here. So tell me, does my boss have the right qualifications for the Attorney General to put his name forward to the President? Well, that depends. Depends on what?

How much your boss is willing to pay. The men around the poker table snicker and exchange knowing looks. I'm sorry? I don't understand. It's simple enough. The judgeship is going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. What did you think you were here for? You sweep your gaze around the room. Looking at the poker table, the fully stocked bar, the crate of bootleg whiskey by the door, I thought I was here for a poker game. A poker game. Come on, kid, this isn't some social club. This is where the business of government gets done. It's the Ohio way. You had heard that Harding's pals didn't exactly do things by the books,

but you had no idea how brazen they were. Such a blatant call for bribery in front of so many witnesses. It makes you nervous, so you lower your voice. I guess I'm just new to this. I didn't realize how things got done in Ohio. Smith gives you a hard look. Suddenly he's not so chummy. Well, now you know. Look, since you're new, I'll make this simple. You either play ball, or I'm sure we can find another qualified candidate. No, no, my boss is the judge you want, trust me. But give me a few days. I'm sure we can work something out.

You take a sip of whiskey to hide your discomfort, while another hand is dealt. You had high hopes for the Harding presidency, but it looks like there's a whole other side to the man you voted for. And it looks like, behind closed doors, it's this group of grafters that might really be calling the shots. During Harding's time in office, the Ohio gang operated out of the house on K Street, just blocks from the White House. It was a combination speakeasy, brothel, and gambling den where its members cut shady deals and took bribes and kickbacks, using their positions for personal profit. The corruption became hard to ignore, and before long, Harding caught wind of it himself. He was not pleased. In early 1923,

a visitor to the White House walked in on Harding with his hands around a man's throat, yelling, you double-crossing bastard. The man on the receiving end of Harding's wrath was Colonel Charles Forbes, the director of the newly formed Veterans Bureau. Forbes had been using his office to accept bribes from companies bidding on contracts to build veterans' hospitals. He further enriched himself by selling off huge quantities of government medical supplies at a fraction of the cost. He and his associates stole or squandered some $200 million of taxpayers' money. Harding was enraged to learn of Forbes' corruption,

but he allowed Forbes to resign and flee to Europe so he could avoid prosecution. But the biggest stain on Harding's administration was known as the Teapot Dome scandal. At the heart of it was another Harding appointee, Interior Secretary Albert Fall. A lawyer, U.S. Senator, and anti-conservationist from New Mexico, Hall looked the part of frontier cowboy with a long, drooping mustache, rancher clothing, and a wide-brimmed black hat. Fall saw his new job not as public service, but as a means to shore up his own troubled finances. His New Mexico ranch had fallen into disrepair, and he owed several years of back taxes. He was so desperate for the job that he sent Harding a falsified telegram, purporting to be from Harding's

campaign manager urging the newly elected president to appoint Fall to the Interior Post. The ploy worked. Fall took office in March 1921 and immediately hatched a plan to use his position for personal gain. First, he persuaded Harding to authorize the transfer of valuable government oil property from the Navy to the Interior Department. Then he leased the land at Teapot Dome, Wyoming and Elk Hills, California to his friends in the oil industry at a fraction of its value. In exchange, he pocketed some $400,000 in gifts and no-interest loans, about $6.5 million today. But as Fall abused his office, Harding remained clueless. When an oil executive warned the president about possible corruption in the Teapot Dome deal, Harding replied, if Albert Fall isn't an honest man, I'm not fit to be president of the United

States. It took another two years for rumors about Fall's corrupt dealings to gain traction. During that time, New Mexico residents and local reporters began to notice improvements about Fall's corrupt dealings to gain traction. During that time, New Mexico residents and local reporters began to notice improvements on Fall's ranch. Journalist Carl McGee found especially damning information, which he would eventually pass on to Senate investigators. As his teapot dome scheme came to light, Fall submitted his resignation in January 1923. But other scandals continued to rock the Harding

administration. To run the Justice Department, Harding turned to his campaign manager, a former small-town Ohio lawyer named Harry Doherty. Almost as soon as he took office as Attorney General, Doherty and his devoted sidekick, Jess Smith, drew the suspicion of Washington insiders. Smith was one of the most frequent visitors at the K Street headquarters of the Ohio gang. He used the house to sell government pardons and paroles to criminals. One bootlegger gave Smith $250,000 in exchange for immunity. Smith could often be heard at K Street singing the lyrics to his favorite song, My God, How the Money Rolls In. In 1922,

Democrats in the House of Representatives began calling for Doherty's impeachment, and Smith grew increasingly anxious. On the morning of May 30, 1923, Smith was found dead in the Attorney General's apartment from a single gunshot wound to the head. The death was declared a suicide, though rumors spread that Smith was murdered to keep his silence. Despite the scandals, though, Harding remained a popular president. Most Americans were caught up in the fast-growing economy, distracted by new products and sources of entertainment and leisure.

Few were fully aware of the widespread graft within the Harding administration. But after the sensational news of Smith's death, whispers in Washington grew louder and Harding became drained and demoralized. He felt like he had been betrayed by his friends and besieged by an endless string of problems. In July of 1923, he decided to leave his troubles behind in Washington and travel to the West Coast. He hoped a speaking tour would revive his presidency. Instead, it would only add to his stress. And soon, the consequences of that stress would prove catastrophic. How did Birkenstocks go from a German cobbler's passion project 250 years ago to the Barbie movie today? Who created that bottle of red Sriracha with a green top that's permanently living in your fridge?

Did you know that the Air Jordans were initially banned by the NBA? We'll explore all that and more in The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast from Wondery and T-Boy. This is Nick. 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 gonna 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. I'm Tristan Redman, and as a journalist, I've never believed in ghosts. But when I discovered that my wife's great-grandmother was murdered in the house next door to where I grew up, I started wondering about the inexplicable things that happened in my childhood bedroom. When I tried to find out more, I discovered that someone who slept in my room after me, someone I'd never met, was visited by the ghost of a faceless woman. So I started digging into the murder in my wife's

family, and I unearthed family secrets nobody could have imagined. Ghost Story won Best Documentary Podcast at the 2024 Ambees and is a Best True Crime nominee at the British Podcast Awards 2024. Ghost Story is now the first ever Apple Podcast series essential. Each month, Apple Podcast editors spotlight one series that has captivated listeners with masterful storytelling, creative excellence, and a unique creative voice and vision. To recognize Ghost Story being chosen as the first series essential, Wondery has made it ad-free for a limited time, only on Apple Podcasts. If you haven't listened yet, head over to Apple Podcasts to hear for yourself. and closed doors, the 57-year-old president was showing signs of strain. He was overweight and

had high blood pressure. In the previous winter, he had battled a severe flu and heart problems. He could no longer complete an 18-hole round of golf. A reporter described how he had aged perceptively since taking office, with more gray in his hair, more bagginess under his eyes. As Harding traveled through Alaska and Washington State delivering speeches, he was haunted by the trail of scandal he had left behind in the Capitol. He told a journalist, my God, this is a hell of a job. I have no trouble with my enemies, but my damn friends. He was also troubled by his flagging finances. He had lost $180,000 of his personal wealth in the stock market.

Harding grew more tense and anxious each day of his trip out west. He forced his traveling companions to play bridge at all hours, so much so that the Secretary of Commerce, Herbert Hoover, said he could never play the game again. When the ship carrying the group down the west coast had a minor collision, Harding was heard to mutter, I hope the boat sinks. Then, when Harding arrived in San Francisco, his doctors thought he was showing signs of pneumonia and heart failure. On the evening of August 2nd, the president was resting in bed in his hotel room

when he suffered a massive heart attack and died. Harding's sudden death shocked the nation. Many citizens reacted to his unexpected passing with an outpouring of grief. But as the months wore on, the scandals and corruption of his administration would come to light through a series of Senate investigations. In October 1923, the Senate launched hearings to investigate the Teapot Dome land transfer. Former Interior Secretary Albert Fall was convicted of conspiracy to defraud the government and sentenced to one year in jail.

In 1924, former Veterans Bureau Administrator Charles Forbes returned from Europe and was soon convicted of bribery and conspiracy for selling off government medical equipment. He was sentenced to two years in federal prison. That same year, Attorney General Harry Doherty was forced to resign after refusing to hand over evidence to Senate investigators. Though no proof was ever found that Harding himself stole from the public purse, his legacy would forever be stained by scandal. In 1927, Harding's mistress Nan Britton published a memoir claiming the president had fathered her illegitimate daughter.

The book became a bestseller, the final blemish on Harding's ruined reputation. The night Harding died, Vice President Calvin Coolidge was on vacation, visiting his father at his family farm in rural Vermont. The nearest telegram office was 10 miles away, and a messenger raced through the darkness in a Ford Model T to deliver the shocking news. At 2.47 a.m. on August 3, 1923, Coolidge's father, who was a notary public, swore in his son on a worn family Bible in a kitchen lit by kerosene lamps. To many Americans, news of the rustic swearing-in ceremony signaled a return to old-fashioned homespun values. Coolidge had risen to national prominence as the Massachusetts governor who broke the 1919 Boston police strike. Known as Silent Cal, he was a man of few words, known for his shyness, morality, and dry wit. He was also extremely

frugal. He and his wife did not own a house, but rather rented one half of a two-family home in Massachusetts. And when he moved to the White House, he constantly complained to the chef there about unnecessary extravagance. Coolidge applied the same thrift to his governing philosophy. He believed that government should be small and fiscally conservative, insisting, The greatest duty and opportunity of government is not to embark on any new ventures. He kept the most skilled members of Harding's cabinet, including Andrew Mellon and Herbert Hoover, and promised he would continue the conservative, business-friendly policies of his predecessor, including tax cuts and lax regulation.

He famously said, The chief business of the American people is business. Coolidge's presidency coincided with an unprecedented economic boom that became known as the Coolidge Prosperity. Europe's economy was devastated after the Great War, and America emerged as the world's leading industrial power. New technologies and federal policies that boosted industry and business led to a manufacturing boom, record corporate profits, and soaring stock prices. After an initial post-war slump, wages rose too, and the unemployment rate fell below 2%. But not everybody shared in the prosperity. In a decade of widespread industrial growth,

coal miners, textile manufacturers, and shipbuilders were left behind. Farmers especially struggled to make ends meet. During the 1920s, both the income and purchasing power of farmers declined by 25% as European agriculture rebounded and the demand for American food exports dropped. For a majority of the decade, as many as two-thirds of the nation's farms operated at a loss. And Coolidge did little to alleviate farmers' woes, instead focusing on big business and tax cuts. Soon, these Americans who felt left behind began clamoring for change. As the 1924 election approached, farmers frustrated with Democrats, Republicans, and politics as usual, looked to a third-party candidate, Wisconsin Senator Robert La Follette,

who had risen to prominence leading investigations into the Teapot Dome scandal. Nicknamed Fighting Bob, the 69-year-old senator led a new progressive party. He was endorsed by the American Federation of Labor and prominent activists like birth control pioneer Margaret Sanger and civil rights leader W.E.B. Du Bois. La Follette would challenge Coolidge, who went into the 1924 election with strong support from his party. Republicans credited Coolidge with the nation's prosperity. And at the party nominating convention in Cleveland, Ohio, delegates chanted, Keep Cool and Keep Coolidge. Coolidge's path to victory looked promising. The Democrats were

deeply divided. In the 1920s, the Democratic Party was an uneasy alliance between rural Southerners, urban Northerners, Protestants, Catholics, Jews, and immigrants. As the tumultuous Democratic National Convention got underway in New York, the party struggled to find common support behind a single candidate. On one side, urbanites, immigrants, Catholics, and Jews lined up behind the Catholic New York governor Al Smith, who opposed Prohibition. On the other side, the Ku Klux Klan, religious fundamentalists, and Prohibitionists supported Georgia native William Gibbs McAdoo. By 1924, the Klan had become a potent political force in both major parties, with at least 75 members of Congress owing their seats to the hate group. But big city professionals and immigrants resented their influence. At the Democratic

National Convention, urban delegates proposed a resolution to condemn the Klan. On the unbearably hot convention floor, the Klan became a flashpoint for the bitter tensions that divided both the Democratic Party and the nation at large. Imagine it's July 1924. You're a delegate from Chicago at the Democratic National Convention in New York's Madison Square Garden. On the sweltering convention floor, the party doesn't seem to be getting any closer to choosing a nominee. You're an outspoken critic of the Ku Klux Klan, and today you're trying to get another delegate, a Southerner, on board with a resolution denouncing the Klan. So, how do you plan to vote?

Against it, obviously. I'm not allying myself with the bootleggers and big city sinners. Oh, please. Look, can I try to convince you otherwise? You can try. The way I see it, we can't let the Klan run roughshod over this convention. If we want to get a Democrat back into the White House, we can't let this party alienate the northern Jews and Catholics. Well, you're living in a fantasy land. We need

the Klan support, or we'll never have the numbers. As your voices rise, a small crowd starts to gather around the two of you. No, no, no. What does it say about our party if we endorse this intolerance? Who do you even think our main constituents are? You need to wake up. It's tenant farmers in the South. It's small-town businessmen struggling against the arrival of chain stores. These people have been oppressed, and they're looking to the Klan for an answer. We can't ignore them. You think they're oppressed. What about the sons and daughters of immigrants? What about religious freedom for Jews and Catholics? We cannot let this hateful secret society impinge on their rights. The crowd around you is splitting into two camps, half cheering for every word,

half booing and shaking their fists. The atmosphere is growing tense, but your opponent doesn't back down. Hateful secret... The Klan is not a hateful secret society. They stand for traditional American values, and they're a major force in this party, whether you like it or not. By now, the other delegate supporters clearly outnumber yours, but you won't back down. God, it's people like you who are going

to drive this party into the ground. It's people like us who are going to save it. You take a step closer as the crowd around you begins to jostle. A man from the crowd behind you rushes forward and throws a punch. Then the delegates erupt into pushing and shoving, screaming and punching. The convention floor descends into chaos. You step back, wipe the sweat from your brow, and loosen your tie. In this hot, charged atmosphere, your resolution denouncing the Klan has little chance of passing. You just hope the delegates can still come together and choose a nominee,

any nominee, before your party tears itself apart. 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. 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. While Democrats fought over their party platform, one of the most divisive issues was the rising presence of the Ku Klux Klan. On July 4th, some 20,000 hooded Klansmen descended on nearby New Jersey for a picnic, where they hurled baseballs at an effigy of Catholic candidate Al Smith. Klan supporters even tried to burn a cross on the convention floor. In the end, the resolution to condemn the Klan failed to pass by a single vote. The 1924 Democratic Convention would be the longest in American history. After 16 days and 102 deadlocked ballots, the red-eyed delegates finally reached a compromise

on enthusiastically nominating federal judge John W. Davis. When voters went to the polls in November, Coolidge easily won a decisive victory over Davis. The progressive La Follette won nearly 5 million votes, making him one of the most successful third-party candidates in American history and signaling that not all Americans shared in the prosperity of the Roaring Twenties. But for those who did, the flash of America's growing culture of consumerism proved hard to resist. With cars to drive and movies to see, church, social clubs, and fraternal orders became less important to daily life. Americans instead began to fashion their identities around the

things they bought and consumed, and increasingly, the things they drove. As the Roaring Twenties progressed, the automobile would become not just a means of transportation, but a status symbol and a source of national pride. And for the nation's two leading car manufacturers, the battle for Americans' pocketbooks would reach a fever pitch. In the 1920s, most Americans enjoyed a rising standard of living, far beyond anything previous generations had experienced. They worked fewer hours and took home more money. They had access to better medical care, better food, and could take up leisure activities and go on long vacations. Over the course of the decade, the number of homes with

electricity doubled. Home appliances like washing machines and vacuum cleaners cut down the time women spent on household chores. With more money in their pockets, Americans became eager consumers. New mass-marketed products flew off the shelves, from radios and refrigerators to cosmetics and ready-to-wear clothes. The growing use of credit and installment plans made high-cost items available to more people. And these spending sprees sent corporate profits soaring. Between 1923 and 1929, the profits of the nation's largest companies grew by more than 60 percent. The consumer economy was also fueled by the growth of advertising. Manufacturers launched elaborate ad campaigns

through newspapers, radio, billboards, and motion pictures. National advertisements and the advent of chain stores meant that Americans across the country bought the same products, adopted the same tastes, and indulged in the same habits of consumption. To reach these new customers, advertisers often focused their campaigns less on the products themselves and more on how they could confer status, glamour, health, and personal happiness. Many relied on pseudoscience. The Post cereal company claimed that its bran flakes could help prevent sallow skin and dull and listless eyes. One ad directed at women declared, often a bridesmaid but never a bride, for halitosis, useless dureen.

But the blitz of consumerism made some Americans wary. Congress launched consumer protection hearings to investigate misbranding, and some journalists published diatribes critiquing mass consumer culture. In 1924, the Atlantic Monthly denounced consumptionism, or the science of getting men to use more and more things as a great threat to American democracy. But others thought that the new age of mass marketing wasn't that frightening or even unfamiliar. Veteran Madison Avenue adman Bruce Barton capitalized on Americans' anxiety over mass consumerism with a savvy take on religion. In his 1925 book, The Man Nobody Knows, he argued

that Jesus Christ was the greatest advertiser of all time. Barton explained how modern businessmen could learn from the teachings of Christ by creating advertising campaigns that promoted higher ideals. Barton declared, Every advertising man ought to study the parables of Jesus. They are marvelously condensed, as all good advertising should be. The Man Nobody Knows was the best-selling non-fiction book for two years running.

It helped religious conservatives reconcile modern self-indulgence with Christianity and traditional values. And in the business-focused culture of the 1920s, even the famously thrifty President Coolidge preached the gospel of advertising, calling it essential to the regeneration and redemption of mankind

because it ministers to the regeneration and redemption of mankind, because it ministers to the spiritual side of trade. But of all the consumer products of the 1920s, none was as important as the automobile. At the turn of the century, the first automobiles had been luxury vehicles reserved for the rich, but Henry Ford changed all that. He made automobiles affordable to the masses with the inexpensive and reliable Ford Model T, which he mass-produced at his Rouge River plant near Detroit. Ford himself embodied the tensions within 1920s society. Though he was an innovative, forward-thinking businessman, he could be narrow-minded and reactionary in his politics and personal life.

He despised liquor, he despised Jews and Catholics, and he used his influence to spread anti-Semitic views to the public. Ford helped make the automobile industry the linchpin of the U.S. economy. The production of automobiles created thousands of new jobs and fueled the growth of other businesses in petroleum, glass, rubber, steel, and machine tool industries. New highways, service stations, and motels sprang up to serve motorists on their commutes and travels. And cars brought greater freedom of movement to Americans, as well as new concerns about moral decline. This was especially true for the nation's youth,

who could now borrow the family car to escape the prying eyes of parents. An Indiana judge called the automobile a house of prostitution on wheels. And for the first time, traffic accidents and car crashes became a major problem. Over the course of the 1920s, 200,000 Americans were killed in automobile accidents. Still, by 1925, Ford's assembly lines churned out a new car every 10 seconds. But a new competitor was on the rise. The president of General Motors, the company behind the brands Chevrolet, Buick, and Cadillac, had a bold new idea to transform the industry and mount a challenge to Ford's dominance.

Imagine it's June 1925. You're the president of General Motors, and today you're walking the floor of the Chevrolet plant in Flint, Michigan, along with the company's general sales manager. All around you, workers are busy manufacturing parts for Chevy's touring sedan, the Model K. Well, production seems to be moving apace. Now, let's talk sales. We've got the General Sales Committee meeting in New York next month. I'd like to propose a new strategy

to the team. The sales manager raises his eyebrows in surprise. A new strategy? Yes. I've been thinking long and hard about how to take the lead over Ford. There's no new market to tap. Everyone who wants a car, they've already bought one, but I think I've found the key. We need to introduce the concept of an annual model. The basic running gear, well, it'll stay the same, but we'll update the design of the body and the interior every year. But we make soundly built cars that have a long lifespan. Why would anyone buy a new car just for cosmetic changes? Well, we need to convince buyers that last year's model is outdated. That the only way to keep up with the times will be to trade that old car for a new one. I don't know, changing the design every year?

It'll increase production costs. That'll push prices beyond reach. Who would be able to afford it? I don't think it's going to matter. Installment buying and credit. That will overcome the expense. But what about demand? Will consumers really go to the trouble to get rid of a working vehicle?

They will with the right marketing. And we're going to convince them that their old vehicles are out of fashion and obsolete. You follow the sales manager over to the assembly line, where a chassis comes down a conveyor belt. Workers on both sides quickly install four tires. The sales manager watches them and shakes his head. It just seems we've come so far. Why risk everything now? Now, don't you see? There's a chance here to take the lead away from Ford, to be the number one car company in America. But to do it, we've got to be willing to throw out the old ways of doing business. It's time to try something new. The sales manager looks doubtful, but you feel certain you've got your finger on the pulse of the moment.

Americans today don't just want a drab, functional automobile like your rival's Model T. They want status. They want style. They want a car that points to the future. General Motors can embody that future. In 1925, GM president Alfred Sloan introduced the concept of the annual model. Each GM model would be changed and updated each year and feature new colors to choose from. The company spent $20 million on advertising to convince consumers to buy new models. Sloan's strategy paid off quickly. Between 1925 and 1926, Ford's sales dropped 25%,

while GM's sales went up 40%. But Henry Ford was not ready to give up his dominance. In the spring of 1927, he shut down his assembly line for several months to prepare for the launch of a new vehicle, the Model A. Then he borrowed a page from his competitor's book and spent heavily on marketing and advertising. Full-page ads for the Model A appeared in 2,000 daily newspapers. When the car finally went on sale, massive crowds mobbed Ford's showrooms. An estimated 10 million people viewed the Model A in its first 36 went on sale, massive crowds mobbed Ford's showrooms. An estimated 10 million people viewed the Model A in its first 36 hours on sale. Ford's sales skyrocketed, offering further proof that advertising was the way of the future.

But while the prosperity of the decade drove consumer spending sprees, it also fueled an explosion of over-speculation and get-rich-quick schemes. In the mid-1920s, a feverish real estate boom hit Florida. Realtors and tourist bureaus glamorized Florida's sunshine and beaches, spreading word that land speculators could double their money in just a few months. Easy access to credit enabled a steady steam of middle-class investors to buy up plots of land. Developers announced plans to turn fragile swamplands into shiny subdivisions, and thousands of Americans poured their life savings into homes that only existed on paper. For a while, the Florida real estate dream looked

like it might become a reality. Blocks of hastily constructed new communities sprang up all along its coasts. But by 1925, the state's transportation infrastructure could no longer handle the dizzying pace of development. Railroad companies placed an embargo on transporting building materials, and production ground to a halt. As news spread about the troubles in Florida, developers struggled to find new buyers. And later that year, a hurricane battered the shores of South Florida,

killing more than 400 people new buyers. And later that year, a hurricane battered the shores of South Florida, killing more than 400 people and causing over $100 million of property damage. Almost as quickly as it began, the Florida real estate bubble burst. It was a warning sign of dangers to come. In the late 1920s, the economy continued to roar, reaching staggering heights. But there were fundamental weaknesses beneath the surface, signs that the boundless growth and freewheeling spending that dominated the decade would soon come crashing down. From Wondery, this is Episode 3 of the Roaring Twenties for American History Tellers. On the next episode, the nation celebrates

Charles Lindbergh's daring solo flight across the Atlantic, Herbert Hoover sets his sights on the presidency, and on Wall Street, the stock market continues its climb to record heights. But as the Roaring Twenties draw to a close, the party is about to end. 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. If you'd like to learn more about the Roaring Twenties, we recommend the book New World Coming,

The 1920s and the Making of Modern America by Nathan Miller. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Molly Bach. Sound design by Derek Behrens. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by Ellie Stanton, edited by Dorian Marina. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis 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 would 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.