American History Tellers - The Gilded Age | Cross of Gold | 6

Episode Date: August 26, 2020

In the spring of 1894, hundreds of unemployed workers trudged through rain and snow on a 400-mile trek from Ohio to the nation’s capital. They joined armies of jobless men from all across the country to march on Washington, fed up with the government’s inaction in the face of the crippling Panic of 1893.The century’s most punishing economic depression unleashed fierce political turmoil. A bitter debate over the gold standard consumed Americans nationwide. With the Treasury on the brink of collapse, President Cleveland made the desperate and controversial decision to turn to the nation’s top banker for a bailout.The conflict over currency culminated in the emotional election of 1896, which pitted William McKinley against the charismatic reformer William Jennings Bryan, who electrified voters with his sensational “Cross of Gold” speech.Listen ad-free on Wondery+ hereSee 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 a brisk afternoon in April 1894. You're in the Bozeman Pass in Montana, and you and 300 other men are racing to clear the wreckage from a rock slide that is blocking the rails of the Muir Tunnel. You used to be a railroad worker, but the Depression put you out of a job, and now it's made you a criminal.

Last night, you helped hijack a North Pacific train and set off east for the nation's capital. You're joining thousands of other unemployed men on a march to Washington to demand government action. You're just heading there a little faster than most. But now the tracks are blocked by piles of rock, mud, and timber. Your friend drops his pickaxe and wipes his brow with his handkerchief. Oh God, I don't know if I can take this anymore. We've been at this for hours. Yeah, but we don't have much choice, unless there's some secret track only you know about. This is the only way east. Your friend shakes his head and sighs. I just, I never expected I'd steal

a train. This is crazy. There's no way we'll get away with this. You know, there is still time to turn back. Turn back? Back to what? We don't have jobs anymore. We don't have anything to turn back to. Stop wasting breath. Help me lift this rock. We've got to hurry. The marshals can't be far behind. I just left a note for Sarah. She would have killed me if she knew what I was up to. She'll probably kill me anyway. I'm sure she'll understand once she sees how everything works out in Washington. And just think about how the people cheered for us in Bozeman this morning. Would they have done that if we were in the wrong?

But before your friend has a chance to respond, your engineer whistles at you from the train. He's waving frantically and pointing down the tracks behind him. That's it. We gotta go. Marshals are coming. You and the other men gather up your equipment and bolt back to the train. You swing up into a boxcar and brace yourself. Your friend looks a bit nervous. If I don't make it, tell Sarah I love her. Oh, stop that. If you don't make it, none of us are. The train lurches, then crashes through the tunnel. A cheer goes up for the men,

but as you speed on east, your smile fades. You know the marshals aren't far behind, and despite your brave words, you have no idea if you'll make it to Bismarck, let alone Washington. But your anger and despair has taken you to a place you've never imagined. And you won't give up now. 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. 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, they'd pitch them in front of our panel of experts. Gwyneth Paltrow.

Anthony Anderson. Tabitha Brown. Tony Hawk of experts. Gwyneth Paltrow. Anthony Anderson. Tabitha Brown. Tony Hawk. Oh my God. Buy it now. Stream free on Freeview and Prime Video. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. In the spring of 1894, a devastating economic depression led to a group of Montana miners and railroad workers to take desperate action. They hijacked a train, hoping to join thousands of unemployed workers marching on Washington. Struggling workers came from all corners of the country to protest the government's inaction in the face of the depression. As they converged on the Capitol, an urgent debate over the nation's currency was consuming

politics, igniting the passion and fury of Americans nationwide. For many, the controversy over gold versus silver was nothing less than a battle for the soul of America, a conflict that would expose the rifts in the Gilded Age society and culminate in the tumultuous election of 1896. This is Episode 6, Cross of Gold. Steering the country through the chaos and depression of the 1890s was President Grover Cleveland, nicknamed Ugly Honest for his rugged appearance and stubborn integrity. He weighed 300 pounds, sported a shoebrush mustache, and frequently chewed tobacco. He gained a reputation

as a gruff, no-nonsense conservative and rose through politics becoming governor of New York before he ascended to the presidency. In the spring of 1893, he had only just returned to the Oval Office for his second term when the Panic of 1893 hit, set off by the collapse of two of the country's largest employers, the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad and the National Cordage Company. The failure of these two companies triggered the most devastating depression of the 19th century. The disaster reached far and wide. Thousands of businesses closed their doors. Hundreds of banks collapsed.

One-third of the nation's railroads went bankrupt. Many called on President Cleveland to take aggressive action. But as a staunch advocate for limited government, he opposed major federal interventions to relieve the economic suffering. In Cleveland's mind, the Depression came down to one thing—currency, the most pressing and divisive economic issue of the Gilded Age. In the 1890s, emotions ran high over a single question—whether to tie the dollar to gold or silver. It wasn't just a question of saving the economy. For many, America's identity and values were at stake. Gold bugs, including President Cleveland, believed only gold could promote stability and

prosperity. But for a growing number of Americans, the gold standard was at the root of inequality and corporate greed. Silver became a powerful symbol of economic fairness and opportunity. Since 1873, the dollar had been linked to the gold standard, which meant that each dollar was backed by a fixed amount of gold. But since availability of gold was strictly limited, the money supply had grown tight. In the 1870s and 1880s, a push began to expand the money supply by coining silver in unlimited amounts. The idea quickly became popular among farmers and western miners. These supporters of the Free Silver Movement, or Silverites, hoped that flooding

the money supply with more accessible, silver-backed currency would help farmers and other debtors pay back their loans. This cry for free silver was an important part of the populist party agenda, and it would soon gain a foothold among many Democrats. In 1890, Congress responded to the mounting calls for free silver with the Sherman Silver Purchase Act. The law doubled the amount of silver the government purchased and required the Treasury to issue paper money for the silver it bought. Recipients could redeem the paper currency in either silver or gold. But silver was worth less than gold coins. Naturally, when investors

cashed in their paper notes, they chose gold over silver, causing federal gold reserves to plummet. In early 1893, the reserves dropped below $100 million, the minimum considered necessary to preserve the government's financial credibility. President Cleveland was a steadfast champion of the gold standard, calling free silver the nation's greatest peril. And he had the support of bankers and businessmen who believed that only the gold standard would ensure economic stability and growth. Cleveland and the bankers believed that the Sherman Silver Purchase Act had caused the Depression by undermining confidence in U.S. currency. He became convinced that repealing the law and restoring the gold standard was the only way to solve the nation's financial troubles.

And so he called Congress to a special session in August. Fierce debate was raging in Congress over the repeal of the Silver Act. The leading champion of free silver was a young Democratic congressman from Nebraska, William Jennings Bryan. Elected to Congress in 1890 at just 30 years old, Bryan was quickly gaining a reputation for electrifying speeches. In the summer of 1893, Congress listened in rapt attention as Bryan defended the cause of free silver for three hours.

In his speech, he cried out, Just so long as there are people here who would chain this country to a single gold standard, there is war, eternal war. The galleries erupted in thunderous applause. Bryan agreed with the president that currency was critical to solving the Depression, but he rejected Cleveland's commitment to gold. He firmly believed that the gold standard was insufficient to meet the needs of ordinary people. For Bryant, the only way the government could save the economy

was by tying the currency to both gold and silver, known as bimetallism. After one of the longest Senate filibusters in American history, Congress repealed the Silver Purchase Act in October. The decision drove a wedge through the Democratic Party, though, alienating Western and Southern Democrats who made up the Free Silver Wing. But the movement for silver would continue to gain ground. Despite Cleveland's hopes, the repeal failed to stop the massive drain on Treasury gold. By February 1894, reserves had dwindled down to just $41 million. Nor did the repeal ease the suffering of ordinary Americans. Millions were still out of work. In cities across America, soup kitchens opened to

feed the growing homeless population. Later that year, the unemployment rate soared to 18%. In New York, it was over 35%, and in Michigan, it reached a staggering 43%. The government did a little to offer aid to the jobless. Cleveland trusted that the economy would recover on its own, a popular sentiment among government leaders in both parties. When the New York legislature passed a relief bill, the state's Democratic governor vetoed it, declaring, In America, the people support the government.

It is not the province of the government to support the people. So without help from Washington, thousands of unemployed workers roamed the country, joining together in groups numbering from 50 to 300. These ragged, self-proclaimed industrial armies swarmed freight trains to look for work and shelter. But no industrial army was more famous than the one led by Jacob Coxey. Coxey was a wealthy, self-made businessman from Ohio who bred horses and wore custom-made suits. But despite his own success, he was passionate about currency reform, going so far as to name his infant son Legal Tender Coxie. Coxie was

determined to convince the government that it had a responsibility to help the American people. So he organized a march on Washington and set out over the Alleghenies, gathering more recruits along the way. It's April 1894 in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. Coxie's army of the unemployed is marching through your town, and everyone has come out to witness the fanfare. Your small hamlet has pulled out all the stops to greet the marchers, despite the late spring sleet. People have been preparing for the army for two weeks now. And against your better judgment, your wife sent you down with some sandwiches for the marchers. But they look more like a freak show than an army to you.

You approach a middle-aged man slumped against a tree. He's wearing filthy rags. He gives you a weak smile and gratitude as you hand him a sandwich. Oh, thank you. I know, it's not much. I guess it's not every day that a circus comes to town. The man ignores your comment. You look down and catch a glimpse of his wet boots.

You can't help but shiver. So, how's it been? You walked, what, 70 miles so far? That's right, I won't lie. It hasn't been easy. We had snow and bitterly cold wind on only the third day. But people have been so kind along the way. The Quakers back in Salem housed us,

and folks in Columbiana gave us bread, hundreds of loaves. We've still got a long ways to go, though, but it'll be worth it. What about you? Are you out of work, too? Yes, yeah. All of us miners were let go after New Year's, but we're getting by. The man nods like he doesn't quite believe you. Sure is a tough time for a lot of folks. You nod. To your surprise, you find yourself confiding in him. Yeah. Actually, my wife and daughter have had to take in our neighbor's laundry just to get some food on the table. Well, then you should join us.

Join you? You gaze at the caravan before you. Wagons, horses, banners, tents. I don't know about joining you. Like I say, this looks less like a protest and more like a big traveling band. Joining your local union, going on strike. Yeah, that's one thing. But the problems in this country go all the way to the top.

This is about taking the fight to Washington, making demands that are so loud they can't ignore them. It's another 300 miles or more to Washington. Yeah, but you say your wife and daughter are supporting the family? They don't really need you here at home, do they? This is your chance to do something to really help them to make a difference. He struck a nerve. You feel terrible that you're out of work, leaving your family to pick up the slack. Yeah, it's not right. When do you set out again? Tomorrow at dawn. Well, think about it.

The man beams at you, but fear is already setting in. It all seems like a fool's errand, and you know they've got miles of mud and spring snow ahead of them. There's something in this man's dedication. Maybe this march will convince the government to finally do something. In the spring of 1894, Jacob Coxey set out to force Washington to take action to ease the economic misery of everyday Americans. He envisioned a massive public works program to create jobs and expand the money supply. He wanted the government to issue $500 million in paper greenbacks to finance the construction of new roads. To promote his vision, Coxsey got an idea from his friend Carl Brown, a charismatic ex-cattle rancher and labor organizer from California.

Brown proposed a march on Washington, what he called a petition in boots. Coxie agreed, believing that lawmakers would have a hard time ignoring a massive demonstration of the unemployed. He announced that the march would begin from his hometown of Massillon, Ohio, on March 25, 1894. He planned to gather more unemployed workers along the way, hoping for a total force of 500,000 people to arrive in Washington on May 1st, just in time for International Workers' Day. On Easter Sunday, snow flurries fell on Massillon as Coxie's army set out on its march. The group numbered just 100 people, including mostly poor whites and a handful of black marchers. One young black man led the way, though, waving an American flag. And while most of the army marched on foot, Coxie's 17-year-old daughter

rode on a white horse, and Coxie himself rode in a carriage with his wife and baby. As they plotted along, the marchers sang a song. We're coming, Grover Cleveland, 500,000 strong. We're marching on to Washington to right the nation's wrong. For over a month, Coxie's ragtag army trekked across Ohio and Pennsylvania in rain, mud, and snow. Along the way, working-class communities suffering from the Depression offered them food and shelter. In Homestead, Pennsylvania, the site of the bloody 1892 lockout at the Carnegie Steel Plant, the marching army was met with welcome committees and brass bands. Six hundred men joined the march. Officials in Washington were unnerved by the specter of hordes of angry unemployed men descending on the Capitol. But the press ridiculed Coxie's army, painting it

as more of a circus than an invasion. A Washington Post headline dubbed Coxie a candidate for an asylum. Reporters accompanying the marchers were especially taken with Coxie's colorful friend Carl Brown, who wore a buckskin jacket, a sombrero, and a fur cape. But Coxie's army wasn't alone. Coxie's movement inspired similar marches on Washington from all across the country. In April, groups of jobless men set out from Boston, St. Louis, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Denver. The vast distances to Washington led several armies to commandeer freight trains. On April 21, some 300 unemployed miners and railroad workers in Butte, Montana,

hijacked a northern Pacific train and headed east. The railroad sent a federal marshal and his deputies on a second train in pursuit. When a rock slide blocked a tunnel near Bozeman, the men frantically worked to clear the debris, but with the law not far behind, the miners boarded their train and crashed through the obstruction at full steam, continuing east. Along the way, the Montana Army found allies and sympathizers. The people of Billings threw the hijackers a feast, and when the lawmen did catch up with them, the townspeople defended the workers, hurling rocks and brandishing metal pipes. This violence in Montana captured the nation. A New York Times headline declared, Blood Flows from Coxieism. The Attorney General, Richard Olney,

convinced President Cleveland to deploy federal troops, who finally apprehended the hijackers on the other side of the state. About this same time, back east, Coxie's army was finally at the end of its 400-mile trek. On May 1st, the 500-strong army arrived in Washington. The marchers stopped at the Capitol, and Coxie ascended the steps and prepared to speak. But he was cut short when two police officers dragged him away and arrested him. The next morning, he was charged with trespassing on the Capitol grass. The marchers dispersed, and Coxie spent the next 20 days in jail. The media mocked the march's feeble end, but Coxie's army had inspired workers across the nation. It was the first national protest of its kind. Though most of the Western armies didn't make it far,

hundreds of protesters continued to stream into Washington throughout the spring and summer, forcing national leaders to reckon with the pain and strife of all Americans. And Cox's vision would have a lasting legacy. Other protest movements would follow in his example in marching on Washington. And decades later, the government would adopt key features of his plan to combat unemployment with a massive road-building program. Cox's movement woke Americans to the despair of the nation's unemployed. But Cleveland remained unmoved. The president was still failing to cope with the scale of the economic crisis, and he remained focused on only one goal,

protecting the nation's shrinking reserve of gold. This is the emergency broadcast system. A ballistic missile threat has been detected inbound to your area. Your phone buzzes and you look down to find this alert. What do you do next? Maybe you're at the grocery store. Or maybe you're with your secret lover. Or maybe you're robbing a bank.

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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. In January 1895, the U.S. Treasury was teetering on the brink of collapse. Gold was once again flowing out of the Federal Reserves faster than it came in, and by the end of January, the reserves plunged to just $31 million, less than a third of the minimum required to back the country's currency. The nation was in serious danger of going bankrupt. President Cleveland was determined to shore up the gold supply,

and he called on Congress to authorize a massive bond sale in exchange for gold. But Democratic lawmakers refused to act. Going off the gold standard was precisely what many of them wanted. In desperation, Cleveland turned to the nation's top banker, a man whose power rivaled his own, J.P. Morgan. Morgan was the towering and widely despised king of American finance. Few wielded more influence over the economy than him, and his aggressive manner and cutthroat tactics struck fear into all who crossed his path. In early February, Morgan took the train from New York to Washington in the middle of a snowstorm to meet Cleveland at the White House. The air was thick with tension as the pair sat down in the Oval Office. Sensing an advantage, Morgan offered to form a private syndicate to buy the government bonds in exchange for $65 million in gold. Cleveland was doubtful. He reminded the

banker that Congress had blocked a bond sale. But Morgan explained that an old Civil War law permitted the Treasury Secretary to sell bonds when the national interest demanded it. Cleveland saw no other option. After four hours of negotiations, he agreed to the sale, and Morgan netted himself a large profit. The banker kept exactly how much he made off the deal secret from the public, but estimates reached upwards of $16 million, close to half a billion in today's money. The bond deal saved the government from default and helped restore confidence in America's finances. Bankers and businessmen were thrilled, but it set off a firestorm of criticism, especially among pro-Silver Democrats, who accused Cleveland of selling out the government to Wall Street in a secretive backdoor deal.

Democratic Congressman William Jennings Bryan took to the floor of Congress again and attacked the president for acting on behalf of bankers rather than the American people. Cleveland was pleased that he had restored the gold standard. But the country was still mired in depression, and most Americans blamed the White House. Republicans, populists, and most members of Cleveland's own party, the Democrats, renounced him for failing to solve the crisis. All looked to the upcoming election of 1896 for a fresh start. But the battle between gold and silver would set the stage for one of the most emotionally charged elections in American history. Most Republicans supported the gold standard as the only way to ensure a sound and stable currency.

The Democrats were divided between gold bugs who supported Cleveland and silverites who wanted to inflate the currency by monetizing silver. This contentious debate transcended party lines. Pro-silver Democrats joined populists and Western Republicans in the belief that if the nation abandoned the gold standard, ordinary people could reclaim control of the money supply from Eastern banking and business interests. Those interests were championed by Ohio Governor William McKinley, who the Republicans nominated as their candidate for president. McKinley was groomed for the nomination by his manager, Mark Hanna, a wealthy Cleveland oil refiner and up-and- coming kingmaker. What Hanna might have lacked in political experience, he made up for in instincts.

He would soon gain a reputation as the puppet master behind McKinley's campaign. Hanna felt deep affection and admiration for McKinley, but he also sensed opportunity. He hoped McKinley's election would boost business interests. He poured $100,000 of his own money into McKinley's campaign fund and raised more among his friends in business and industry. Political cartoonists soon lampooned Hanna as Dollar Mark, depicting him as a stout bully wearing a checkered suit covered in dollar signs. Rarely had a single individual wielded such immense power over a presidential campaign. Hanna was the first political operative of his kind, and he would become the model for the modern political consultant. To win support for the Republican nomination,

Hanna sent McKinley on a speaking tour around the country. In his stump speeches, McKinley promised an end to the hard times, but dodged the divisive money question. His campaign posters dubbed him the advance agent of prosperity. In June, the party met in St. Louis to officially nominate McKinley as their standard bearer. Hanna was elected chairman of the party met in St. Louis to officially nominate McKinley as their standard bearer. Hanna was elected chairman of the party. He and the other Republican powerbrokers drafted a platform supporting the gold standard, but they were careful to remain vague to avoid alienating supporters of free silver.

For their part, the Democrats were deeply divided. They shunned the conservative Cleveland, frustrated with his handling of the Depression. Instead, the party's pro-silver factions looked to their rising star, the 36-year-old former congressman from Nebraska, William Jennings Bryan. Bryan had already become the leading spokesman of the pro-Silver movement in 1893 when he condemned the repeal of the Sherman Silver Purchase Act on the floor of Congress. But he was also tall and handsome, with wavy jet-black hair. He exuded youth, energy, and strength. But it was Bryan's gift for public speaking that set him apart. The previous year, he had left Congress and traveled the country on a national speaking tour,

promoting the cause of free silver. Everywhere he went, he held audiences spellbound with speeches attacking corporate interests, corrupt democracy, and the threats looming to common people. In July 1896, the Democrats held their nominating convention in the cavernous Chicago Coliseum. Currency question dominated debates over the party platform. Bryan was the last to speak. He bounded up to the stage two steps at a time. A hush fell over the convention hall as he prepared to address the delegates

launching into what would become one of the most famous speeches in American history. His organ-like voice rang out through the room as he began, declaring, I come to speak to you in defense of a cause as holy as the cause of liberty, the cause of humanity. Bryan was referring to the cause of free silver, and he methodically made his case, urging the delegates to stand up for the American people by supporting bimetallism. Concluding his speech, Bryan took a step forward and thundered, Having behind us the commercial interests and the laboring interests and all the toiling masses, we shall answer their demands for a gold standard by saying to them, You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns.

You shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold. With these final words, he bowed his head and threw his arms back, striking a Christ-like pose. He stayed that way for several seconds as the convention hall sat in stunned silence. Then the crowd exploded. People screamed and wept. They threw hats and canes in the air. The Washington Post reported that Bedlam broke loose, delirium reigned supreme. The frenzy lasted half an hour.

The next day, the party nominated Bryan as their candidate on a pro-silver platform. With the news, goldbug Democrats abandoned ship and ran on their own ticket. At the same time, millions of populists flooded back to the Democratic Party, drawn by Bryan and the promise of free silver. Joining the Democrats reduced the populist power as an independent force in American politics, though their agenda would live on in the Democratic Party. The 1896 election would be a watershed for the Democrats, as control of the party shifted from the East to populist strongholds in the West and South. But as Bryan prepared to go toe-to-toe with McKinley, he faced a formidable challenge.

The powerful businessman Mark Hanna would deploy new campaign tactics and had a few tricks up his sleeve. It's October 1896 in Chicago, and you're just about to begin your shift at work. Normally, you drag your feet as you walk into the factory. But today, there's a bounce in your step. You're still riding high from yesterday's rally for William Jennings Bryan. The election is just days away, and the city is charged with excitement and anticipation.

You put down your lunch pail, greet your friend. Good morning! So one's in a cheerful mood. Yeah, still buzzing about that rally. There must have been hundreds of thousands of people in the streets. And did you hear Brian speak? I'm going to vote for him. Can't wait for it. Free silver is going to change everything.

Your friend nods. I know. It's been a long three years. You really think Brian can win it? I don't know. But I know I'm going to do my part. Just then, your manager opens the door to his office. Silence falls as he strides onto the factory floor.

He crosses his arms. Men, I've just gotten word from the boss. The long and short of it is, don't come to work on Wednesday morning if Brian wins. You're shocked, but you can't help but speak up. What is that supposed to mean? Come on, you know what it means. If McKinley wins, our goods will be shipped. If Brian wins, our orders will be canceled.

You look around and only see confused stares about the room. The manager sighs. Man, let's just put it this way. McKinley's good for business. Brian's not. If he wins, then business will be ruined. A ruined business can't provide jobs. Your jobs. Realization is dawning on you. Your manager is threatening you. Now, we're going to give you time off to vote on Tuesday. I suggest that you all think long and hard about what you're doing. If you want to keep working here, it's in your best interest to vote McKinley. Your manager heads back into his office. Your friends turn to you, his face crestfallen. Well, now what are you going to do?

I don't know. For months, you've been following the news about Brian's campaign. Finally, it feels like you have a chance to send someone to the White House who cares about people like you. You're terrified about the economy and the future of this country, but you also have your job and your family to think about. As chairman of the Republican Party, Mark Hanna had amassed resources the Democrats could not match. During the 1896 election, the Republicans raised a staggering campaign war chest, unprecedented in American history,

16 times as much as the Democrats had in their coffers. Hanna funneled these massive funds into innovative new tactics. He modernized campaigning by using mass media to reach voters. He used advertising, flooding various interest groups with specialized campaign ads. He sent surrogate speakers to the Democratic strongholds in the Midwest to persuade voters to vote the Republican ticket. His messaging made it clear that a victory for McKinley was a victory for business and that Bryan was a lunatic who would lead the economy to ruin. A number of large employers agreed and pressured and intimidated their workers into voting

Republican. Lacking McKinley's funds, Bryan relied on the power of his speech. He was a force of nature, traveling 27 states and 18,000 miles to deliver nearly 600 speeches, often speaking dozens of times a day. As election day loomed, Brian's voice grew husky from the punishing pace of the campaign trail. But even hoarse, Brian instilled a feverish passion in his supporters that bordered on a religious fervor. Crowds sang popular campaign songs like, We'll All Have Our Pockets Lined With Silver, and No Crown of Thorns, no cross of gold. Republicans branded

Bryan a fanatic and a madman and condemned the silver lunacy spreading throughout the country. McKinley knew his stump speeches couldn't compete with Bryan's eloquence. So instead, he stayed home in Canton, Ohio, and Hannah brought trainloads of voters to him, even persuading railroad lines to offer discount rates to the area. Between late August and November, McKinley spoke with 750,000 voters from 30 states, all from his front porch. When election day finally came, it was Hannah's tactics that paid off. McKinley won the election 271 to 176 in the Electoral College, and he netted half a million more popular votes. Though Bryan galvanized frustrated farmers,

he failed to capture most urban workers and suffered major losses in the North and East. The 1896 election brought sweeping change to American politics. It was a victory for big business and conservative economics against the radical politics of Democrats and populists in the farm belt. It showed that future elections would be decided by cities, and it demonstrated the growing strength of middle-class urban professionals who flocked to McKinley for his moderate approach and conservative economic policies. It also ushered in a long era of Republican power. The GOP would dominate the White House for the majority of the next four decades. And as promised, once McKinley took office, the economy did begin to rebound.

The Gilded Age had made the United States into an industrial power. Around the world, European powers like Britain, Germany, and France were scrambling to seize colonies and carve out spheres. Now, Americans were ready to rush into the fray and assert a new role on the global stage. Are you in trouble with the law? Need a lawyer who will fight like hell to keep you out of jail? We defend and we fight just like you'd want your own children defended. Whether you're facing a drug charge,

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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+. Join Wondery in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. In March 1897, William McKinley was inaugurated as America's 25th president. By then, the Depression had nearly run its course, and the economy was starting to revive. Ushered into power by industry and Wall Street, McKinley's presidential agenda was firmly pro-business.

Once he entered the Oval Office, he wasted no time in calling on Congress to enact the highest protective tariff in American history. But the tariff and other economic issues were soon eclipsed by international conflict. Americans had taken little interest in foreign affairs in the decades after the Civil War. But by the 1890s, rapid population growth and booming industry gave Americans a new sense of self-confidence on the international stage. The Depression convinced many business leaders that America badly needed access to overseas markets. An 1896 editorial in the Washington Post described how America had

a new appetite and the yearning to show our strength, declaring that the taste of empire is in the mouth of the people. So in 1897, the nation turned its eyes to Cuba. For decades, Cubans have been fighting to gain independence from Spain, but now the unrest was threatening U.S. economic interests. American businesses had about $50 million worth of investments in the island, and they began to clamor for intervention to protect their stake in Cuba. The press fueled demands for American involvement, too. Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst were notorious titans of yellow journalism,

spreading sensational stories and exerting immense power over public opinion. They waged a fierce circulation battle, publishing lurid and exaggerated accounts of Spanish atrocities in Cuba, helping to drum up enthusiasm for war. But despite mounting public pressure, McKinley was reluctant to get involved. But on February 15, 1898, disaster struck. The battleship USS Maine mysteriously exploded in Havana Harbor, killing 260 men. The cause of the explosion was most likely an accident. But the American press rushed to blame Spain,

and the public demanded action, rallying under the cry, Remember the Maine, to hell with Spain. President McKinley finally succumbed to public opinion in April when he asked Congress to declare war on Spain. The Spanish-American War lasted just over 100 days. By August, the United States had destroyed the Spanish fleet in Cuba, occupied Puerto Rico, and seized Manila in the Philippines. The American ambassador to Britain called the conflict a splendid little war.

The United States now had an island empire that stretched all the way across the Pacific Ocean. In July, Congress also approved the annexation of Hawaii. In December, as part of the peace negotiations, Spain ceded its colony in the Philippines to the United States. Filipinos were outraged to see one colonial power replaced with another. They demanded independence and rebelled, sparking an armed conflict that would drag on for at least six years, killing thousands of American and Filipino soldiers and 200,000 Filipino civilians. It would seem a new age had dawned, one where America would exercise global power and influence that often came at a bloody cost. The period also brought a new American

politician to national fame. In the most famous battle of the Spanish-American War, U.S. troops took Cuba's San Juan Hill, catapulting a young lieutenant colonel named Theodore Roosevelt to renown. Roosevelt had been the assistant secretary of the Navy, but he resigned his position to lead men into battle. Roosevelt commanded the Rough Riders, a motley regiment of cowboys, minors, champion polo players, Harvard Glee Club singers, Native Americans, and outlaws. Roosevelt had squinty eyes behind his stick glasses and a famously toothy grin. He was born in 1858 to a wealthy New York family. He'd overcome childhood illness with a strict, self-imposed exercise routine and eventually graduated from Harvard with honors. But despite his blue-blood background, he loved mingling with all kinds of people. He won them over with his

extraordinary charisma and boundless energy. And then, in the fall of 1898, the colorful cowboy hero would parlay his wartime fame into a fast-rising career in politics. It's September 1898, and you're sitting at a bar in the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York City, surrounded by gilded wood, luxurious carpet, and rich crimson curtains. Your boss is Senator Thomas Platt, the leader of the New York State Republican Party, and the Fifth Avenue Hotel is where he keeps his office. Today, you're meeting with a close friend of Theodore Roosevelt, delivering a pitch on behalf of your boss. Now, you and I both know everyone has been talking about Roosevelt stepping into the governor's race. The man takes a sip of his whiskey and

nods discreetly. Yes, it's the only thing he's been asked since the moment he set foot on New York soil. The Republicans need a fresh new face to head the state ticket. And who better than the hero San Juan? The man gives you a sideways glance. You mean, who better to save your party? Republicans have a serious image problem. It's just one story of Albany corruption after another. Yes, be that as it may, everyone can agree. Roosevelt is the next governor of New York.

And why should the colonel join the Republicans? Your party has proved itself to be dishonest beyond redemption. Reformers are calling on him to run on an independent ticket. If the colonel runs as an independent, he's certain to win. This conversation is not going your way. Your boss is counting on you to safeguard the power of the Republican machine. So you try a new tactic. He won't win without the Republican endorsement. And even the unlikely event that he did win as an independent, he'll have to work with the legislature to accomplish anything. And the legislature is controlled by Republicans. The man pauses for a moment, considering. Look, I know Roosevelt is no fan of Senator Platt. That's an understatement.

He loathes him. Well, it's a good thing politics isn't about friendship. It's about getting things done. The man takes a final swig of his drink. I'll have the colonel come and see the senator. But if the colonel joins the Republicans, you'll do well to remember he's a reformer through and through. Of course, of course, sure. Just as long as Roosevelt consults with the party leaders about all appointments and policy matters. The man gathers up his things to leave. I'm sure we can work something out. You watch him walk away, satisfied that you've just saved the Republican Party from defeat in November.

But as much as you know your boss will want to control a future governor, you have a sneaking suspicion that Roosevelt is his own man. In the fall of 1898, Roosevelt joined the Republican ticket and was elected governor of New York. But party leaders got more than they bargained for. Governor Roosevelt quickly gained a reputation as a maverick. His support for laws regulating corporations and monopolies rankled state party boss Senator Thomas Platt. As the presidential election of 1900 approached, Platt pushed Roosevelt for the VP position to get him out of New York. When the Republican National Convention met in June in Philadelphia to re-nominate McKinley, it was clear that Roosevelt would be his running mate. Delegates chanted, we want Teddy. But party power broker Mark Hanna was less enthusiastic about Roosevelt's place on the ticket,

saying, don't you realize that there's only one life between this madman and the White House? Hanna's warning would prove tragically prophetic. McKinley had only served six months of his second term when he was assassinated by an anarchist in Buffalo, New York. On September 14, 1901, Roosevelt took the oath of office. At age 42, he was the youngest president to lead the nation. By the time Roosevelt ascended to the presidency, the explosive debates over monetary policy that had dominated politics for decades had faded away. Discoveries of large new gold deposits in the 1890s had expanded the money supply and diminished the appeal of silverback currency. Farm prices also rose and factory production increased. Gold became the

sole standard for redeeming paper money in 1900 when Congress passed the Gold Standard Act. The 20th century dawned on a nation radically transformed by the astonishing growth of commerce and industry, the building up in the West, and the seizure of colonial territories overseas. Railroads now crisscrossed the continent, knitting the nation together from coast to coast. Vibrant cities and humming factories dotted the country. This industrial growth drew millions of immigrants to American shores. From 1870 to 1900, the population nearly doubled from 40 million to 76 million. The nation's total output tripled, and the United States was well on its way to becoming a global economic powerhouse. Through these years, electricity and new communication technologies, including the

phonograph and telephone, also reshaped American life. Overall standards of living rose, life expectancy grew, infant mortality declined by a third, and education and decent housing became more widely available. Yet when Americans took stock of their country amid this dizzying material progress, many still saw something rotten at the core. Corporations and trusts grew more powerful every day. They marshaled the resources of government to protect their profits and crush worker unrest. Inequality remained as deep as it ever was, and the harsh treatment of America's colonies abroad undermined ideals of liberty and self-governance. Soon, the long-festering wounds of wrenching economic change, widening

inequality, and rampant corruption would give rise to the progressive era. Building on the work of Gilded Age reformers, over the next two decades, a vast and diverse set of reformers would seek to regulate industry, protect workers, and harness the power of government to serve the people. Teddy Roosevelt would be a decisive executive, boldly leading the country through a package of reforms to protect consumers, curb the power of big business, and conserve the country's natural resources. It would take this progressive movement to grapple with the injustices of the Gilded Age, unleashing a spirit of reform to restore power and prosperity to the people. Next on American History Tellers, I speak to

author and Columbia Law professor Tim Wu. Wu will discuss how the Gilded Age forged modern America's wealth disparities, what history tells us about the dangers of giving too much power to monolithic corporations and their leaders today. From Wondery, this is Episode 6 of The Gilded Age for American History Tellers. 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 Molly Bach. Sound design by Derek Behrens. This episode is written by Ellie Stanton,

edited by Dorian Marina. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis, created by Hernán López for Wondery. Richard Bandler revolutionized the world of self-help all thanks to an approach he developed called neuro-linguistic programming. Even though NLP worked for some, its methods have been criticized for being dangerous in the wrong hands. Throw in Richard's dark past as a cocaine addict and murder suspect, and you can't help but wonder what his true intentions were. I'm Saatchi 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. We recently dove into the story of the godfather of modern mental manipulation, Richard Bandler, whose methods

inspired some of the most toxic and criminal self-help movements of the last two decades. Follow Scamfluencers on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Scamfluencers and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid and Kill List early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery+. Check out Exhibit C in the Wondery app for all your true crime listening.