American History Tellers - Traitors | The Atomic Spies | 3

Episode Date: November 17, 2021

In September 1949, the world was shocked to learn that the Soviet Union had conducted its first nuclear weapons test, just four years after the United States dropped the first atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. U.S. authorities thought there was only one way the Soviets could narrow the nuclear arms gap so quickly -- by stealing atomic secrets from the U.S.In 1950, the FBI arrested a young Jewish couple, Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, for running a spy ring and passing nuclear secrets to the Soviet Union. At their trial, the Rosenbergs became lightning rods for controversy and anti-communist hysteria. But the true extent of their guilt would remain shrouded in mystery for decades to come. 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 February 1952 at Sing Sing Prison in upstate New York. You're a lawyer up from the city to meet with your client Ethel Rosenberg. It's been nearly a year since she and her husband Julius were convicted of passing nuclear secrets to the Soviets and put on death row. You've been appealing their case, and yesterday the Second Circuit Court came to a decision. A guard is escorting you to Ethel's cell so you can deliver the news. The guard ushers you through a door into another dark, cramped hallway.

It's quiet here in the women's wing of what they call the Death House. After the recent execution of another prisoner, Ethel has the place all to herself. The guard stands back at the door, and you walk on alone to Ethel's cell. You peer through the bars to see her sitting on a narrow iron bed on top of thin mattress. Hello, Ethel. How are you holding up? As well as can be expected. Tell me, how are my boys? Michael and Robert are just fine. I checked on them a few days ago.

Their foster parents seem nice enough. They miss you, though. I mean, they have to. Have they let you speak to Julius lately? No. They think they're going to break me by separating me from him, but they won't. Besides, I don't have any names to give. I don't know anything.

You know that, right? Of course I know that. She looks down, smoothing out the wrinkles in the threadbare blanket. So, any news on the appeal? Do you think they'll come to a decision soon? You take a deep breath, stealing yourself to deliver the bad news. Yes, I'm afraid they already have. Ethel's smile falters. Don't tell me. We've lost. I'm sorry. The judge said that all the discussion of your communist affiliations was perfectly fair. I never expected it. It's my fault. I should have found some other strategy. You did your best. So is that it? Is it over now?

Do Michael and Robert know? I'm sure they've heard. It's been all over the radio. Ethel's eyes are welling with tears. You've rarely seen her look so despondent. But it's not over, Ethel. We still have one more shot. I'm going to appeal your case to the Supreme Court. But Ethel just shakes her head. Like there'll be any less prejudice against us. Don't give up hope yet. I promise I will do whatever it takes to reunite you with your sons. The guard walks toward you, indicating your time is up. You look back at Ethel and see she's got her head in her hands. Your heart breaks for this woman. You're convinced that she and Julius are completely innocent. The only evidence against them is pure hearsay.

This final appeal to the Supreme Court is their last chance of escaping the electric chair. You can't afford to fail, because if you do, the two Rosenberg boys will end up orphans. And a grave miscarriage of justice will tarnish your country's reputation forever. 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, it gets them in front of our panel of experts. Gwyneth Paltrow. Anthony Anderson.

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From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers, our history, your story. In 1952, Ethel and Julius Rosenberg sat on death row after being convicted of passing nuclear secrets to the Soviets. The couple swore their innocence, and their lawyer fought tirelessly to appeal their case. It had been three years since Americans learned the shocking news that the Soviet Union had tested its own atomic bomb, years ahead of schedule. The Rosenbergs were accused of spying on behalf of the Soviet nuclear program, betraying their country in the middle of a dangerous arms race. The Rosenbergs' case unfolded in the early years of the Cold War, a time when fear of communism reached a fever pitch. The couple insisted that they were being persecuted for their communist political affiliations.

Their fight to prove their innocence culminated in one of the 20th century's most infamous trials and executions, which would haunt the nation for years to come. This is Episode 3 in our four-part series on America's most notorious traitors, the atomic spies. Julius Rosenberg and Ethel Greenglass were both children of poor Jewish immigrants living in New York City. Julius was the youngest of five children, born in 1918 to Polish parents who worked in the garment industry. The family lived in the Jewish enclave of the Lower East Side and struggled to make ends meet.

Julius was also a sickly child, suffering from a string of medical emergencies, including a severe case of measles and a burst appendix. Ethel was born in 1915 and grew up in a cold and crowded tenement apartment just a few blocks from the Rosenbergs. Her mother often treated her with cruelty, favoring Ethel's brothers, especially the youngest, David. But Ethel had a strong will and fierce ambition. She dreamed of a life on stage, and as she grew older, she rebelled against her mother's wishes by pursuing acting and singing. By the 1930s, when both Ethel and Julius were in their teens, New York City had become a hub for a growing communist fervor. Workers on the Lower East Side were attracted to communism

as a path to a world free of poverty and inequality. Many Jewish immigrants were enthusiastic supporters of the Soviet Union. They believed the Soviet government had improved the lives of European Jews and that communism could also be a means of progress for Jews in America. Julius's father had wanted his son to become a rabbi, but Julius was skilled in science and math and instead enrolled at the City College of New York to study electrical engineering. He soon became interested in politics, too, and joined the campus branch of the Young Communist League. In the 1930s, the Great Depression was ravaging the U.S. economy, and fascism was on the rise in Europe. Julius was deeply troubled by news of Nazi leader Adolf Hitler's persecution of Jews

and ambitions of global domination. Julius saw communism as the answer to the economic and social turmoil sweeping through Europe and the United States. He took up political activism, and his studies fell by the wayside. Ethel's interest in communism came by a different path. Though her passion was acting and singing, she was forced to take on secretarial work to make an income. In 1935, she helped organize a strike for the Ladies Apparel Shipping Clerks Union, pressing for better wages and working conditions. Through her work fighting for labor rights, she became involved in local communist politics. In December 1936, Ethel and Julius met at a New Year's Eve benefit for a local union

while she was waiting to go on stage to sing. Ethel was 21 and Julius 18. The pair were instantly smitten. Ethel's parents disliked Julius at first, but her 14-year-old brother David looked up to him. Julius educated David about communism and gave him his old engineering books. Julius's parents wanted to make sure he graduated before the pair married, so Ethel encouraged him to spend less time on politics and more time on his schoolwork. She often helped him study by typing out his notes on a portable typewriter. And then in 1939, Julius graduated from college with a degree in electrical engineering,

and the couple got married that June. The following year, Julius joined the U.S. Army Signal Corps as a civilian engineer. He worked at a laboratory at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey. His employers were unaware of his communist affiliations. Then, in June 1941, Hitler invaded the Soviet Union, and Ethel started working full-time as a volunteer, raising funds to help the Soviet people. Just a few months later, though, on December 7th, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and America entered World War II. The Soviet Union would be a critical ally in the fight against Nazi Germany,

but the two countries were ideologically opposite, remaining deeply suspicious of each other. The Soviets maintained a sprawling espionage network in the United States, too. Several hundred spies infiltrated government agencies and companies to search out military, technological, and political intelligence. In 1942, Julius was promoted to a new role as an engineering inspector. But as he would soon discover, his rise through the ranks of military engineering would make him an attractive target for Soviet spy recruiters.

Imagine it's September 1942, at a Labor Day rally in New York's Central Park. You're a Soviet intelligence officer, and one of your contacts in the American Communist Party has introduced you to a potential new recruit. You're meeting with him today to see if he's spy material. Making your way down a sidewalk, you approach a lamppost, your designated meeting spot. A mustache man wearing big glasses is anxiously tapping his foot while he searches the crowds. Mr. Rosenberg? He turns to you with

an eager smile and nods. Yes, good afternoon, mister. We'll get to that later. Why don't we walk? You lead him into the crowd, hoping all the noise drowns out the conversation. Up on the main stage, the mayor is urging New Yorkers to come together and make sacrifices for the war effort. Rosenberg gestures towards the podium and shakes his head. It's all about France and England. They never talk about what's happening on the Eastern Front. Life in the USSR is harsh right now. It's not easy fighting on a front that's more than 800 miles long.

And no one has it worse than Europe's Jews. Hitler won't stop until he exterminates our kind. You nod in agreement. My Jewish father is trapped in Odessa right now under the Nazi occupiers. Some got out in time. He wasn't so lucky. I'm sorry. I can't imagine. But that's exactly why I want to do everything in my power to help the Soviet Union. Without your country, we don't stand a chance against Hitler. You lean closer so you can lower your voice. I agree. But the truth is, right now, my country is losing. The Nazis have advantage.

Better weapons. Better technology. Meanwhile, the United States calls Russia an ally, but hides its latest technological innovations from us. Do you think that's fair? No, I don't think that's fair at all. That's why I want to help. You take half a step back to size up Rosenberg.

His eagerness seems genuine, but he's so young. You wonder if he knows what he's getting himself into. I must tell you, Julius, the work we'll ask you to do is dangerous. If you're caught, I can't help you. You'd be on your own, and your life as you know it would be over. You could spend the rest of your life in jail, or worse. Oh, I understand. I'm ready to take that risk. You narrow your gaze, trying to judge whether this young man has what it takes to be a spy. He gazes back, a little wide-eyed, but determined.

Hmm. All right, I'll send you instructions for where we'll meet next. But until then, don't mention this conversation to anyone. With that, you turn and walk off into the crowd. It's clear that this new recruit could make up an enthusiasm when he lacks in experience. And because of his job as an Army engineer, with access to new weapons and technology, he could be just the man you need to unlock America's most critical secrets. In September 1942, a friend of Julius introduced him to a Soviet intelligence officer named Semyon Semyonov.

Julius was eager to join the fight against Hitler and needed little persuasion. He believed that if the Soviet Union was going to be a bulwark against Nazi Germany, its military technology needed to be on an equal footing with America's. So soon, Semyonov became Rosenberg's handler and trained him in the art of espionage. Ethel was aware of her husband's spy work, but not involved. Her main focus was raising the couple's first son, Michael, who was born in 1943. Then, in 1944, Julius received a new handler, Soviet spy Alexander Feklesov. The Soviets gave Julius a codename, Liberal. Every six weeks,

he met with Feklesov and gave him information and documents he had obtained through his work as a military engineering inspector. Throughout World War II, Julius gave his Soviet handlers blueprints for specialized military technology. One Christmas, Vaklasov set up a meeting to give Julius presents, including an alligator handbag for Ethel. Julius had a present for the Soviets as well, a model of a proximity fuse detonator, a device for exploding bombs to best maximize their damage. Julius had smuggled it out of a factory he was inspecting. But Julius's biggest contribution was recruiting a network of a dozen other spies, including a college classmate named Morton Sobel. The friends and colleagues he recruited passed on information about computer technology, radar systems, and jet

engine designs. The Soviets would implement the intelligence gathered by Rosenberg's network into their own military systems, leveling the playing field between the U.S. and the USSR. Julius was so invested in his espionage that his handlers were concerned that he was spreading himself too thin. Feklasov would later say that Julius viewed his spy work as a kind of religious calling, and a KGB message to Moscow declared, we are afraid of putting liberal out of action with overwork. But Julius was not about to take a step back.

He saw a chance to deepen his espionage. And this time, he would bring his family into the fold. In the fall of 1944, Julius set his sights on a new recruit. He learned that his brother-in-law, David Greenglass, had been assigned to work as a machinist on the Manhattan Project in Los Alamos, New Mexico. The Manhattan Project was the codename for a secret government research program to develop the atomic bomb. The Soviets had already infiltrated the Manhattan Project, but they were eager for more spies on the inside. Julius knew that David was an

enthusiastic communist sympathizer. He himself had shaped David's views by giving him communist pamphlets and books when they were younger. So when Julius learned that David's wife Ruth planned to visit her husband in New Mexico in November, he saw his opening. He convinced Ruth to ask David to seek out atomic secrets to pass on to the Soviet Union, and David agreed. In a letter to Ruth, David wrote, My darling, I most certainly will be glad to be part of the community project that Julius and his friends have in mind. Greenglass was given the codename Bumblebee. Ruth worked as an intermediary under the codename Wasp. In January 1945, David provided Julius with his own notes and a crude sketch he made of the molds for explosive lenses. Similar to how glass lenses

focus light, explosive lenses focus shockwaves to compress nuclear material, achieve critical mass, and ignite the bomb's core. These explosive lenses were an essential component in the very first nuclear weapon ever detonated. In June, Julius sent a courier to New Mexico named Harry Gold. To help Gold identify David, he gave each man a crude signaling device, two halves of a torn jello box. In Los Alamos, the two men met and confirmed their identity. Then David gave more sketches of the explosive lenses to Gold. It was at this moment that the world stood on the brink of the nuclear age. On August 6, 1945, the United States dropped the first atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, killing at least 80,000 people.

Three days later, the U.S. dropped a second atomic bomb on Nagasaki, which prompted the Japanese imperial government to surrender. Nazi Germany had surrendered three months earlier, and at long last, the most brutal and deadly war in history was over. But the Cold War was just beginning, and the global order was rapidly realigning. The staggering power of the bomb would spark an arms race between the United States and the Soviet Union. And to get into that race, the Soviets would turn to their growing network of spies. Now streaming. audience of potential customers. This is match point baby. If the audience like the product, it gets them in front of our panel of experts. Gwyneth Paltrow, Anthony Anderson,

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It was the start of the Cold War, a tense, decades-long struggle for supremacy between the forces of capitalism and communism. The rivalry between the two countries would be marked by a growing nuclear arms race. But much of the Cold War played out in the shadows. Espionage would be key to this arms race, as both superpowers sought to intercept each other's military secrets. In November 1945, a Soviet spy named Elizabeth Bentley decided to switch sides. She visited the FBI and defected, giving up the names of 150 Americans she said had spied for the Soviet Union. Julius Rosenberg's name was not on Bentley's list.

But his Soviet handlers grew anxious. Only a few months earlier, Julius had been fired from his job with the Army Signal Corps after his Communist Party membership came to light. They insisted he lay low. But still, Julius continued to meet with fellow spies in his apartment. Afterward, Julius struggled to find work in the post-war economy as engineering contracts dried up. So in early 1946, he went into business with Ethel's brothers, Bernie and David Greenglass.

They opened up a shop selling surplus government machine parts. But the business floundered. David and Julius blamed each other, and their relationship soured. By 1948, they had let all their employees go. David's savings dwindled, and he was forced to borrow money from Julius, an arrangement that only fueled the growing resentment between the two men. A year later, in 1949, David's wife Ruth badly cut her leg in an accident. She struggled to pay her doctor's bills, but Julius felt he had already done enough for his in-laws and refused to give them another loan. Ethel had given birth to a second son, and the Rosenbergs were short on cash themselves. The financial strain drove a wedge between the two families.

Then, in September 1949, Americans were shocked to learn that the Soviet Union had successfully tested its own atomic bomb. They used a plutonium-based implosion device similar to the bomb dropped on Nagasaki just four years earlier. American military and scientific experts had believed that the Soviets were years away from developing an atomic weapon. They knew little of the full scope of the Soviet spy efforts. But soon, government authorities would stumble onto a trail of espionage,

leading back to David Greenglass. Imagine it's January 1950 in New York City. You're in your apartment on the Lower East Side. Yesterday, an FBI agent called, asking to meet with you in your home. You're terrified that your espionage at Los Alamos National Laboratory has been discovered. Terrified about what this means for your family's future. Your wife is five months pregnant with your second child. You look up at the clock, 2 p.m. on the dot, right on schedule.

Reluctantly, you go to open the door. Good afternoon. My name's Lawrence Spillane. I'm with the FBI. The agent pulls a badge from his jacket pocket. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you take a deep breath, trying to control your breathing. Good afternoon. Yes, please, come in. The agent follows you into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. Can I get you anything?

No, thanks. This won't take long. I'll get right to it. I'm here investigating some thefts from Los Alamos. Your mind races, thinking back to the times you swiped documents and notes from the laboratory. You're hoping your face isn't revealing anything. Some thefts, you say? That's right. What was stolen? Uranium, if you can believe it. Apparently, the workers like to take home hunks of uranium-238 as souvenirs. There are hundreds of little hemispheres that can't be accounted for. The Atomic Energy Commission has requested that the FBI look into it. Your eyes flicker over to the closet, where you yourself have some uranium hidden in a sock.

Why would anyone do that? God only knows. One of the workers who fessed up said it made for a nifty ashtray. Anyway, you remember seeing any one of those hemispheres? Well, sure, I remember seeing them. I might have even held one, but certainly never took one home with me. You're certain about that? Well, absolutely. I never even entered the alloy shop. That's where they were produced. You watch as the agent scans the apartment. You hope your lie is convincing. Of all the crimes you've committed, you never expected it to be this one that would raise the attention of the FBI. The agent's eyes fall back on you.

So, if I came back here with a search warrant, you're positive I wouldn't find any uranium? No, sir, I don't have any, I swear. And you never saw anyone else take any? No, this is the first I've heard of it. The agent eyes you skeptically for a few seconds longer. But then abruptly, he stands up. All right, that's all I need for now. I hope you understand that we have to be thorough about these things. I appreciate your time. Well,

of course. No problem at all. Here, I'll show you out. Have a good day. I hope you find what you're looking for. As soon as the agent leaves, you let out a sigh of relief and vow to get rid of the uranium as soon as possible. Still, you're not sure you're completely in the clear, or whether this visit is simply a ploy to get to the heart of the real crimes you've committed. In January 1950, the FBI interviewed David Greenglass about uranium thefts from Los Alamos. It was common for the workers there to steal small, unenriched pieces of the radioactive metal as souvenirs. After the visit, David threw the uranium he had stolen into New York's East River. But when Julius heard about his brother-in-law's brush with federal agents, he feared that the FBI would soon discover the secret of David's espionage. He urged David to leave the country, but he refused, saying his wife was too pregnant

to travel. Meanwhile, the FBI was getting closer to discovering the real source behind the Soviet atomic bomb. Since 1943, a group of government investigators had been decrypting Soviet diplomatic cables. The top-secret effort was known as the Venona Project. The decrypted Venona messages helped authorities zero in on Klaus Fuchs, a German-born British physicist who worked on the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos. In February, British authorities arrested Fuchs, and he immediately confessed to his espionage. Fuchs passed on some of the Manhattan Project's most important data, helping the Soviets develop and test their own atomic bomb.

Fuchs told the FBI he used an American courier he knew only as Raymond. The FBI eventually identified Raymond as Harry Gold and arrested him, too. Gold was the same courier used by David Greenglass. The day after Gold's arrest, Julius arrived at David's New York apartment with a copy of the New York Herald Tribune. The front page headline declared, Julius knew the authorities were closing in on his brother-in-law. On June 4th, he visited David again, offering him money and advice on fleeing the country. But David refused to uproot his family. His wife Ruth had just given birth and was recovering from

burns she had suffered in an accident with a gas heater. In the meantime, just as Julius had feared, the FBI linked Harry Gold back to David. Early on the morning of June 16, 1950, agents arrested him and charged him with conspiracy to commit espionage. After eight hours of questioning, David confessed and named Julius as a fellow spy. On July 17, FBI agents stormed into the Rosenberg's Lower East Side apartment and arrested Julius as his seven-year-old son Michael looked on. Another team of agents swept the apartment for evidence. When Ethel demanded to see a warrant and speak to an attorney, the agents refused, calling her demands typical of communists. The following morning, Ethel tried to get ahead of public opinion by calling reporters into her home.

She donned a floral dress and posed for photographers while cooking and drying dishes, trying to evoke the typical 1950s American housewife. She declared, Neither my husband nor I have ever been communists, and we don't know any communists. The whole thing is ridiculous. Meanwhile, the FBI debated whether to arrest Ethel herself. They had very little evidence against her, but they decided that her arrest might pressure Julius into giving up more information.

FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover wrote to the Attorney General declaring that Ethel might serve as a lever. Julius's arrest coincided with the start of the Korean War. In late June, Soviet-backed North Koreans had invaded South Korea. Days later, an American-led UN coalition responded with a counteroffensive. Americans were terrified that the conflict in Korea could explode into another world war, one that would be waged with nuclear weapons. The administration of President Harry Truman saw the Rosenberg case

as a chance to strike back against communism. They wanted to hold someone responsible for the Soviets acquiring nuclear secrets, and they couldn't target the spy with the most insider knowledge of the atomic bomb, Klaus Fuchs. He had already been imprisoned in Great Britain. So on August 11th, FBI agents arrested Ethel, despite the weak evidence against her. Bail was set at $100,000, more than a million dollars in today's money. Julius and Ethel were charged with conspiracy to commit espionage under the 1917 Espionage Act, which prohibited providing classified national security information to foreign governments. The Rosenbergs pleaded not guilty and refused to

cooperate. To turn up the pressure, the Justice Department threatened the death penalty, issuing a statement calling Julius's actions a capital offense. But still, the Rosenbergs refused to talk. By then, government cryptographers for the Venona Project had deciphered thousands of Soviet messages. Several decrypted messages described a spy known only by the codename Liberal. After the arrest of David and Julius, investigators finally identified Liberal as Julius Rosenberg. And one of the Venona messages referred to Ethel by name. It read, information on Liberal's wife, first name Ethel, 29 years old, married five years, sufficiently well-developed politically, knows about her husband's work.

While it indicated that Ethel may not have been involved enough to have her own codename, it did prove that at least she was aware of her husband's espionage. But federal prosecutors could not use the decrypted messages as evidence in court. National security officials were determined to keep the Venona Project secret. The prosecution would have to find alternative evidence to prove their case. In February 1951, just eight days before the Rosenbergs' trial was set to begin, David Greenglass made a decision that would change everything. He decided to revise his testimony.

The FBI knew that David's wife, Ruth, had served as a messenger between David and Julius, and they threatened to arrest her. To protect Ruth from prosecution, David gave false testimony that strengthened the case against Julius and implicated Ethel. David's betrayal of his sister

would prove critical in building the case against the Rosenbergs. It would set the stage for one of the most sensational trials of the 20th century and tear the Rosenberg family apart. 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

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You can binge Incoming exclusively and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. As the trial of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg approached, the nation was swept up in a tide of growing anti-communist hysteria. A week after the arrest of Klaus Fuchs in February 1950,

Senator Joseph McCarthy had stepped into the national spotlight with a stunning claim that more than 200 Soviet spies were working in the State Department. Though unproven, McCarthy's allegations of widespread communist subversion in the government and military created an atmosphere of fear and paranoia. And for politicians like McCarthy, the Rosenbergs were proof that there was indeed a vast communist conspiracy bent on destroying America. In this tense climate, Justice Department officials assigned Judge Irving Kaufman to the Rosenberg case. They wanted a judge they knew would be willing to impose the death penalty, and Kaufman had a reputation for being tough with his rulings. Irving Sapol was Taft's lead prosecutor. Sapol had won a series of

anti-communist convictions, most famously against Alger Hiss, a State Department official accused of spying for the Soviets. Kaufman and Sapol were both Jewish, and both approached the case with a determination to prove themselves as loyal Americans, in contrast to the Jewish defendants accused of betraying their country. Julius and Ethel hired Manny Block as their lead defense attorney. Block was known for his work defending leftists, and he would fight tooth and nail on behalf of his clients. The Rosenbergs' trial began on March 6, 1951. The couple were tried alongside Julius' friend Morton Sobel as the Rosenberg Ring. David and Ruth Greenglass were the prosecution's star witnesses. David explained the details of his espionage

and described how Julius gave him and Harry Gold two halves of a cut-up jello box so they could identify each other. He claimed that he gave Julius a sketch of molds for explosive lenses used in atomic bombs. But much of David's testimony focused on his sister. He declared that in September 1945, he visited the Rosenbergs in their New York apartment and watched as Ethel typed up his handwritten notes about the bomb. Ruth corroborated David's testimony in clear and articulate detail. Block tried to argue that Greenglass had fabricated his story

as revenge for his failed business venture with Julius. The Rosenbergs themselves invoked the Fifth Amendment on all matters relating to espionage and their Communist Party affiliations, which many thought damaged their credibility in the eyes of the jury. On March 28th, the defense and the prosecution delivered their closing arguments. Saple described how Ethel sat at that typewriter and struck the keys blow by blow against her own country in the interests of the Soviets. Then the jury retired to begin their deliberations.

The Rosenbergs' lives were now in the hands of 11 men and one woman. Imagine it's March 1951. You're in the back room of a courthouse in New York City, where you've spent the last three weeks as the head juror for the espionage trial of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. Normally, you're a sales manager at Macy's and never expected to be put in charge of such a big case. The responsibility of making sure this verdict is unanimous is weighing heavily on you. And after hours of deliberation,

there's still one holdout. All right, everyone, break time's over. Let's take a seat and get this done so we can all go home. You gaze across the table at the holdout, a middle-aged father. He looks down at his hands, avoiding your gaze. James, isn't it? The man nods. Well, James, have you thought any more about your vote? I have. And to tell you the truth, I'm still not sure about the possibility of a young woman being

put to death. A mother at that. So what you're telling us is that your objection is entirely sentimental. That's not going to cut it, James. You've got to stick to the evidence. But what if the brother's lying? How do we know we can trust his version of events? Greenglass's testimony is the only proof we have against Ethel. No, it's not just Greenglass. It's his wife, events. Greenglass's testimony is the only proof we have against Ethel. No, it's not just Greenglass. It's his wife, too. Their testimony matched exactly. Besides, I don't believe anyone could turn on their own flesh and blood like that unless they were telling the truth. Several of your fellow jurors nod in agreement, but James looks down again, still unconvinced. I'm sorry. The idea of a mother with two young children being put to death, it's just wrong. Remember what the judge said.

The punishment is not our concern. Besides, I don't even think she'll get the death penalty. You get up and start circling the table. You know you need to make James realize the stakes of the verdict. Look, James, this woman that you want to save, if she goes free, who's to say that she won't end up joining another conspiracy? Pass more secrets to our enemies. Secrets that could result in your own death. The deaths of your wife and children. That's a bit extreme, don't you think?

I don't know. Don't you read the news? Look at what's happening in Korea. You don't think that that could easily escalate into World War III? And now, because the Russians have the bomb, another world war, that could threaten everyone's existence. The man considers your words. You don't know if he's terrified by the image you've created or simply worn down by being the sole dissenter. Fine. I'll change my vote.

I'll vote guilty. Good. That makes 12 of us. You smile at the other jurors, satisfied to finally have a unanimous verdict. Guilty as charged. You'll sleep well tonight, certain that your decision today will help protect this country against the spies that threaten to destroy it tomorrow. After eight hours of deliberation, the jury returned a guilty verdict. The next day, Judge Kaufman sentenced both Rosenbergs to death, declaring their crimes worse than murder and a diabolical conspiracy to destroy a God-fearing nation. Kaufman went so far as to blame the couple for 50,000 American casualties in the Korean War. As a reward for his cooperation,

David Greenglass received a lighter sentence of 15 years in prison. His wife Ruth, codename Wasp, was never charged. The Rosenberg's lawyer, Manny Block, was furious. He accused Judge Kaufman of blatant prejudice against his clients. He argued that the espionage of Klaus Fuchs was far more significant in helping the Soviets develop the bomb, but that the British had only sentenced him to 14 years. And for the next 24 months, Block worked tirelessly, appealing the case and waging a publicity campaign in the press. Ethel and Julius waited out the appeals in separate cells in New York's Sing Sing prison. The Rosenberg sentence was controversial. Protests erupted in major

cities in the United States and around the world. The couple's young sons, Robert and Michael, attended rallies with signs reading, Don't Kill My Mommy and Daddy. Even the Pope urged the White House to show clemency. But all the appeals failed. In October 1952, the Supreme Court refused to hear the case. Julius and Ethel's executions were scheduled for June 19, 1953. That day, tens of thousands of protesters took to the streets in 80 cities around the world. Supporters gathered outside Sing Sing Prison for a vigil. Ten-year-old Michael Rosenberg was watching baseball at the home of his new foster parents when a news bulletin interrupted the broadcast and announced his parents would die that night. He spoke to reporters gathered outside, declaring,

The judges of the future will look back upon this case with great shame. At Sing Sing, the couple said their goodbyes, and the prison barber shaved their heads. Julius dashed off a final letter to Block, writing, You did everything that could be done. We are the first victims of American fascism. At 8.04 p.m., Julius was strapped down into the chair and electrocuted. Ethel's sentence was carried out only a few minutes later. The Rosenbergs maintained their innocence until the end. At the couple's funeral, Block delivered an impassioned eulogy, laying the blame for their deaths on anti-communist crusaders in

the government. He singled out President Eisenhower and FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover by name, saying they did not pull the switch, true, but they directed the one who did pull the switch. Debate over the Rosenbergs' guilt and the fairness of the sentences continued for decades. In the 1990s, declassified documents from the Venona Project confirmed that Julius was in fact a Soviet spy. But many experts questioned the value of the information passed on by David Greenglass through Julius, especially compared to the atomic secrets passed by Klaus Fuchs, who was far more directly involved in the Manhattan Project. Julius' information was just one small piece of a larger collection of intelligence

that helped the Soviets develop a bomb more quickly than their scientists could have on their own. Other newly uncovered evidence has pointed to Ethel's innocence. Decades after dooming his sister, David Greenglass admitted that he lied in his sworn testimony in order to spare his wife from prosecution. Ethel had never typed up his notes as he had claimed on the witness stand. The decrypted Venona transcripts showed that Ethel was never an agent, but that she was aware of Julius' work and assisted him in recruiting the Greenglasses.

The Rosenbergs remained the only American civilians executed for conspiracy to commit espionage during peacetime. Their case would come to symbolize the anti-communist paranoia that gripped the United States during the early years of the Cold War. But we may never know the full extent of Ethel's guilt or innocence, or how much Julius's efforts as a spy aided the Soviets in developing their first atomic bomb. Whatever Ethel and Julius did or did not do, the knowledge of it went with them to the grave. From Wondery, this is Episode 3 of American Traitors from American History Tellers. On the next episode, in the mid-1980s, America's most important spies within the Soviet Union began to vanish. The CIA launches a desperate hunt for the mole who is exposing their assets,

a hunt that will lead them to one of the unlikeliest double agents in the history of the Cold War. 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. 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 Marsha Louis for Wondery. 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 defined their journey,

and the ideas that transformed 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.