American Scandal - The Dust Bowl | The Land of Opportunity | 1

Episode Date: October 24, 2023

American farmers flock to the Southern Plains, lured by the promise of riches. Soon, a strange storm appears on the horizon.Need more American Scandal? With Wondery+, enjoy exclusive seasons, binge new seasons first, and listen completely ad-free. Start your free trial in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts, Spotify or visit https://wondery.app.link/rUic7i1hMNb now.  See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

You're listening to the first episode of this American Scandal season. With Wondery+, you can binge the remaining episodes, listen to new episodes early, and explore more exclusive seasons completely ad-free. Start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify today. It's January 21st, 1932, in the northwestern Texas panhandle. Lizzie White is sitting on a wooden stool, staring at her bedridden child. Lizzie's son, Melt, is pale and sweaty, and he's been racked with a cough that won't loosen its grip. Lizzie leans forward and dabs her son's temples with a rag. But as melt hacks out another cough,

the winds outside suddenly pick up. They come whistling in through the cracks in the plank walls of their tiny home, and as a breeze comes blowing across Lizzie's face, she can taste it, fine particles of dirt. There's dust all across the house, on the floors and mantle, on the cabinets and picture frames and linens. Everything is coated in a fine layer of prairie soil that's all but impossible to get rid of. Lizzie is convinced that this is what's making her son sick, this land which has been a plague on their family ever since they first came into town. The White family never meant to end up in Dalhart, Texas. They were moving from Colorado, looking for a warmer climate in a town south of Amarillo, when the horse making the trip with them keeled over and dropped dead. Lizzie's husband,

Bam, took it as a sign that they were meant to settle down in northwest Texas, but Lizzie saw it differently. She believed it was a warning sign that the panhandle wasn't a place meant for the living. And so far, Lizzie believes the facts had proven her right. After the horse died, Lizzie lost a child, a little girl who passed on before she could take her first breath. And after that, the sand started falling from the sky like a plague. The crops dried up, and to make a living, Bam resorted to selling skunk hides on the road, while Lizzie and the kids sat around Dalhart, breathing in the poisoned air. Lizzie knows they can't keep this up much longer. And while Bam has been insistent that this is their home, Lizzie's going to try and convince her husband that it's time to leave

this godforsaken land. The front door opens and Bam walks in, hauling an armful of supplies. He heads to the table and unloads some kerosene, skunk oil, and turpentine, ingredients for an old family recipe meant to treat bad coughs. And as Bam begins mixing together the ingredients, Lizzie eases up next to him. He's been coughing all day. I think he's got a fever. Well, this remedy always does the trick. Yeah, but we don't need a trick. We got to deal with the root of the problem. Lizzie, it's just a bad cough. We all get them from time to time, except this keeps happening and we both know why. Pam sets down the spoon.

Lizzie, you haven't seen what I've seen. Now I go out there on the road to sell what I can and nobody's buying because nobody can. Families out there are living out of rusted cars. Is that what you want for us? You know that's not what I want. But we can't keep living like this. These dust storms are choking the life out of our children. I want to leave here. And I don't want to look back.

And what do you think you're going to find? We're in the middle of a depression. This land is all we've got. Bam, what good is this little piece of land if we lose our family? Bam is at a loss for words, but as the two stand silently in the kitchen, the wind outside picks up again, and clouds of dirt begin pushing through the walls. I don't like the sound of it. Why don't you take a look? All right. Bam walks out the front door, but he's only gone a few seconds before he comes running back in with a wild look. Lizzie, go grab the little ones. We got to get under the house. What are you talking about? What's going on? I've never seen anything like it. Big storm, moving in fast. Come

on, let's go. Lizzie hurries to the side of the house as heavy winds and sheets of sand come swiping across her face, grating her lips and cheeks and burning her eyes. Lizzie joins her family members as they scramble underneath the house, and for a moment all they can hear is the sound of wind whistling through the cracks in the wood. But then the house starts groaning as the storm thrashes outside. Lizzie's son, Melt, starts crying, and Lizzie holds him tight, promising everything's going to be okay. But while she wants to comfort the boy, the truth is she's also terrified by what she saw out there. A 10,000-foot wall of dirt blowing in from the south. Bam wasn't

wrong. In all their time in the panhandle, they've never seen anything like this. A dust storm that looked like something out of the Old Testament, like punishment from God. And so as the winds continue buffeting the house and the walls creak and groan, Lizzie clasps her hands together and silently prays for mercy and forbearance and for the protection of her family and everyone else trying to survive in the panhandle. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of scandals and deadly crashes that have dented its once sterling reputation. At the center of it all, the 737 MAX, the latest

season of business wars Wars explores how Boeing allowed things to turn deadly and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation. Make sure to listen to Business Wars wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. In the 1930s, Americans living in the southern Great Plains experienced what historians have called the greatest man-made ecological disaster in our country's history. Windstorms carrying clouds of dirt almost two miles high blotted out the sun and choked everything in their path. In an area spanning Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Kansas, and Colorado, thousands died from breathing air choked with dust. And hundreds of thousands of others were forced to flee as the region they called home became unlivable.

As the crisis mounted, the public and leaders in Washington were left searching for the cause of what would come to be known as the Dust Bowl. And after studying the issue, experts returned with a damning conclusion. Federal policy had to encourage reckless expansion into an area with expansive grasslands that had never been suitable for agriculture. Land speculators looking to make a profit took advantage of gullible Americans. And an agricultural system with few constraints led many to over-farm the land, creating the conditions for an ecological crisis that would destroy lives and ravage an entire region. But for those who settled the southern Great Plains,

it was hard to imagine that chasing their dreams would set off such a complex chain of events. The land was plentiful and cheap, and with a shot at a good new life, Americans flocked to the region and began plowing up the grass. This is episode one, The Land of Opportunity. It's 1906 on a large ranch in the Texas Panhandle. It's a warm spring day and the breeze is blowing through a field of golden wheat in an otherwise barren stretch of northwest Texas. Beside the crops is a makeshift platform, and standing on stage is a salesman who's quietly rehearsing his pitch. Any minute now, a group of about 500 out-of-towners are going to arrive,

looking to make a purchase. The salesman is going to explain how this deal could change their lives. They'll get a shot at self-determination, upward mobility, and a sense of hope. The salesman is going to show off this shimmering field of wheat and tell the group that this isn't out of reach. Anyone in the panhandle could have their own Garden of Eden. It's up to them to buy a plot of the land he has for sale and take the first step to carve out their own slice of paradise.

But the salesman knows his pitch is more than a little dishonest. They've staged a beautiful row of crops, and if the homesteaders buy their own land, they might get a handful of good years. But here in the Panhandle, the only thing that really grows is native grass. The area is regularly hit with hailstorms and flash floods, tornadoes, blizzards, and droughts. You can go a long time cycling through the seasons without anything resembling a spring. And that's why the company this salesman works for, the Capital Syndicate, is trying so hard to sell off this land. Back in the 1880s, in exchange for agreeing to build the Texas Statehouse, the Chicago-based company was given three million

acres of grassland in the Panhandle. The land had once been home to huge herds of bison, the main food source of the indigenous peoples of the plain. But the bison were all killed off, and so the syndicate figured the land would be perfect for cattle ranching. The company brought in hundreds of heads of cattle, and for a while the investment seemed like it was going to pay off. But then came the weather, and the cattle started dying en masse. One year, they lost so much livestock that Cowboys said you could walk a drift line across the plain for 400 miles and never step off a dead animal. The syndicate knew they had to cut their losses and offload the land, but the question was how they could get anyone to buy something so worthless. The answer, of course, was good marketing and aggressive deal-making, which is what the salesman is going to be doing today, rebranding this inhospitable climate, which averages less than 20 inches of rain a year, to make it look like the perfect place to make a fortune as a farmer.

One of his associates is escorting a large group of travelers who have just arrived by train. They do this twice a month, inviting about 500 people in Kansas City to take a free ride to the Panhandle to come see the land for themselves. Soon enough, the crowd gathers round, and the salesman puts on his best smile. Then he holds up a book called The Soil Culture Manual and tells the crowd that the route to their prosperity is right here in this book. The author, Hardy Campbell, is America's farming apostle, and this is his Bible. As long as you use Campbell's proven techniques, anyone can unlock the potential of the plains. The salesman explains it largely comes down to a technique known as dry farming. Just plant your wheat in the fall when there's a bit of moisture in the ground, known as dry farming. Just plant your wheat in the fall when there's a bit of moisture in the ground,

and that'll cause the seeds to sprout. Then wait out the winter, and then in spring the rains come, bringing all the irrigation you need to grow a healthy row of crops. The salesman pauses to survey the crowd and can see he's gotten through to more than a few of these weary travelers. But as he gets ready to continue his pitch, one voice calls from somewhere off to the side. It's an old cowboy with a wide hat and a tanned face. He steps forward and announces this is all a bunch of hokum. Sure, this might have been a good year for farming, but he's been on this land a long time, and if there's one thing he knows about the plains, it's that you can't count on the weather. Only one thing grows for sure out here, and that's blue-stem buffalo grass.

Up on the podium, the salesman retains his composure. This was an unexpected surprise, but he's got the perfect rebuttal. He announces that he agrees with the cowboy. Sometimes you can't count on Mother Nature, but by using modern science, you don't have to. The salesman hoists up his copy of the famous farming manual and says it's all here in the book. The technique is even endorsed by the federal government.

The idea, he says, is that when you tear up the prairie sod, it causes an atmospheric disturbance that creates rain. It's all a bunch of complicated chemistry and profound physics, but all you have to remember is a simple phrase, the rain follows the plow. The salesman pauses and lets the idea sink in. He knows he told the crowd what they want to hear, that they have the power to change nature itself and chart their own destiny. Sure enough, the promise seems to get the people's attention. There's a smattering of applause and people start excitedly talking with each other, saying this could change everything for them.

Doesn't matter if the place doesn't get more than 20 inches of rain a year, if you can coax the water out of the sky, any farmer could make a fortune. Despite warnings like those from the old Texas cowboy, in the early 1900s, a steady stream of hopeful farmers migrate to the southern Great Plains. The settlers are lured in part by landowners looking to sell off their property, who embellish the truth about life in the region. But the idea that you could make a living as a farmer

in the Great Plains had its origins decades earlier. In the 19th century, many Americans began to believe in an idea known as Manifest Destiny, the concept that the United States was divinely ordained to expand across the continent. In 1862, Congress passed the First Homestead Act, creating a strong incentive for Americans to leave their homes in the East and start a new life in the Plains. But surveyors had issued reports saying that the land wasn't suitable for agriculture. The native peoples who'd controlled the plains had hunted and gathered, but never farmed. Still in its zeal to expand west and push native peoples off the land,

the federal government didn't heed these warnings. Under the Homestead Act, settlers were given the opportunity to farm and live off the plains for five years. And after that, they would receive the deed to their property. And by the early 1900s, this expansion begins to accelerate. Property is still cheap and even free for homesteaders, and so settlers arrive from around the United States buying their own plots of land. The landowners selling this land often paper over the region's erratic weather and periods of extended drought. But in some cases, land salesmen engage in outright fraud.

In Illinois, Indiana, and Missouri, the Southwestern Immigration and Development Company advertises beautiful plots of land in a town known as Boyce City in the Oklahoma Panhandle. The company distributes brochures with illustrations of Boyce's rivers and towering trees and a thriving main street bustling with businesses. The ads urge buyers to hurry and seize the opportunity before it's too late. By the spring of 1908, the company sells 3,000 plots of land in Boy's City and plans a formal opening for the town.

But when the settlers arrive, they quickly realize they've been swindled. One couple pulls into town on a horse-drawn wagon, looking around in confusion. There are no roads, no businesses, and no trees. Just a lone, concrete block building on a sidewalk that leads nowhere. As the horses trot forward, the couple notices dozens of people standing in the sun, also looking bewildered and sorrowful. One woman, wearing a white lace dress meant for a special occasion, stands beside her three children sobbing. Nearby, a middle-aged man kicks one of the wheels of his wagon, nearly knocking it off its axle. In the wagon, the husband pulls over to the side of the road, and his wife takes out the brochure, trying to see if they've somehow made a mistake.

This can't be right. I mean, where is downtown? Well, this has to be it. Look at everyone else around. You think this is Main Street? I don't know, but it's certainly not what we were sold. I told you, this is what we get for buying land we've never seen. Let's turn around and get out of here. We'll try to find some place we can stay tonight. Honey, we can't go back. Cost us nearly everything we had to get this land. But look around. The land we bought was supposed to have a house and trees and a paved road. There's nothing here.

Those people lied to us. It appears they have, but at this point, what can we do about it? Well, I might have an idea. The young woman holds up the brochure for Boys City. Now, we both agree that these claims here are fraudulent. We were tricked. Remember how we got this brochure? Yeah, it was mailed to us. That's right. Now, I've read about this.

If you make a false claim and you put it in the mail, that's mail fraud. You can go to jail for it. Won't you say we do something about this? The husband gazes across at the lifeless terrain, his lips pursed in frustration. He tells his wife he wishes it didn't have to come to this. They were supposed to have a new home, a fresh start. But his wife is right. The men who sold them this land are crooks.

They ought to be brought to justice. The men who sold them this land are crooks. They ought to be brought to justice. A little more than a year later, the developers behind Boy's City are convicted of fraud, becoming two of the only people ever held legally accountable for lying about the Great Plains. But despite being hoodwinked, some settlers decide to stay in Boy's City. They're encouraged by newspaper editors, bankers, and politicians who tell them that the more people stay and develop the land, the more it'll gain value. So those who remain begin the work of turning Boy's City

into a real town. They build homes and businesses, a general store, a barbershop, a hotel, a grocery, and two newspapers. And by 1912, Boyce City has a modest population of about 325 residents. But just two years later, the entire region sees another wave of growth, thanks to a series of unexpected events far from Oklahoma. In the summer of 1914, the Archduke of Austria is shot and killed during a visit to Sarajevo. The world is thrown into war, and all across Europe, farmers trade their tools for rifles. With the world facing a shortage of grain and the Allied powers left without bread, the U.S. government intervenes, calling on American farmers to become the world's supplier of wheat.

To spur the production of the crop, the federal government also issues their first-ever price guarantee, $2 a bushel, more than twice the going rate, guaranteed throughout the end of the war. More and more Americans are enticed by the promise of riches by farming. And as they begin to grow crops in the southern Great Plains, they also race to buy mechanized equipment, like the gas-powered tractor and the one-way plow. With these tools, even novice farmers can work large plots of land using only a fraction of the labor it otherwise would have taken. In the Oklahoma Panhandle, one of those farmers, a man named Fred Fulkers, witnesses firsthand how mechanized farming has the potential to change the landscape. One day in the early summer,

Fulkers is standing in the heat of the afternoon sun, working to start up his expensive new machinery. Fulkers struggles through a bit of frustration at first. He's been trying for nearly an hour to get the case combine connected to the tractor, but it's not as simple as the salesman made it look. Fulkers glances over at his wife, Catherine, who's reading the manual. She looks frustrated too, saying she doesn't know what to do and she doesn't understand why they had to stop using their horse. It served them well over the years. Fred nods. That was the old-fashioned way, harvesting crops using a horse-drawn combine. It was steady and effective, and you could use the same animal to plow the soil when it was time to turn over.

But horses move at only a fraction of the speed of a tractor, and the Fulkers are now competing with everyone else using machines to do the work for them. So he tells Catherine they can't give up. They've got to keep trying. And so for the next hour, Fred and Catherine connect and disconnect cables. They flip switches on and off and pull every lever they can see. Finally, in some kind of miracle, Fred hits a switch and the tractor comes roaring to life. He gives a loud whoop and kisses his wife, and then he hits the pedal and begins making his way toward the wheat field, Catherine following cautiously behind. Fred grips the wheel and begins running the combine through the crops. It is a marvel. Harvesting this much wheat in this little time would have taken the work of nearly 10 horses.

But now Fred is able to do it all on his own in a matter of hours. And that gives Fred some bigger ideas. Now that he's working with a tractor, he's going to have more free time on his hands. He could spend that time working someone else's land, turning up the soil and planting another field while sharing in the profits. The money is here for the taking, but Fred is not the only farmer in the panhandle

looking to cash in. It might not be long before all the land is snatched up, and the last of the native grasslands are turned into fields of wheat. On January 5th, 2024, an Alaska Airlines door plug tore away mid-flight, leaving a gaping hole in the side of a plane that carried 171 passengers. This heart-stopping incident was just the latest in a string of crises surrounding the aviation manufacturing giant Boeing. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of damning scandals and deadly crashes that have chipped away at its once sterling reputation. At the center of it all, the 737 MAX. The latest season of Business Wars explores how Boeing, once the

gold standard of aviation engineering, descended into a nightmare of safety concerns and public mistrust. The decisions, denials, and devastating consequences bringing the Titan to its knees and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation. Now, follow Business Wars on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge Business Wars, the unraveling of Boeing, early and ad-free right now on Wondery+. He was hip-hop's biggest mogul, the man who redefined fame, fortune, and the music industry. The first male rapper to be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sean Diddy Cone. Diddy built an empire and lived a life most people only dream about.

Everybody know ain't no party like a Diddy party, so. Yeah, that's what's up. But just as quickly as his empire rose, it came crashing down. Today I'm announcing the unsealing of a three-count indictment, charging Sean Combs with racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking, interstate transportation for prostitution. I was f***ed up. I hit rock bottom, but I made no excuses. I'm disgusted. I'm so sorry. Until you're wearing an orange jumpsuit, it's not real. Now it's real. From his meteoric rise to his shocking fall from grace,

from law and crime, this is The Rise and Fall of Diddy. Listen to The Rise and Fall of Diddy exclusively with Wondery Plus. exclusively with Wondery Plus. 1916 is a good year to be a farmer in America. Wheat is fetching a record high price. Congress has just passed a law offering 40-year loans to farmers with low interest rates. And all across the United States,

farmers are enjoying a sense of civic pride, knowing they're helping the war effort abroad. But in the southern plains, there's even more reason to celebrate. This area, known for extended periods of drought, is experiencing an unusually long stretch of steady rain. For years, real estate promoters have told the settlers that rain follows the plow, that turning up the soil creates an atmospheric disturbance that actually promotes rainfall. That supposedly scientific argument, backed by the federal government, helped convince Americans to settle in the region. And to those who did,

the science seems to be borne out by the facts now that steady rainfall has arrived. So as word spreads that farming the plains is making people rich and that the good weather is here to stay, there's a land rush on the far western end of the Oklahoma Panhandle. The area is known as No Man's Land, and it's one of the only remaining parts of the region where you can still homestead and claim a free plot of land. But the climate in No Man's Land also proves to be unfit for agriculture. The area is dry and hot, and the rain often evaporates as soon as it hits the ground. But the men and women working the fields in this region are not deterred.

One farmer named Carly Lucas needs to irrigate his crops, so he begins digging a hole straight down into the ground. He reaches five, then ten feet, getting deeper into moist subterranean soil. And one afternoon, after several days of hard work, Lucas sets aside his shovel and cranes his neck up, squinting at the small patch of blue sky shining down from above. Lucas is now twenty feet underground. His breath is ragged from all the hard work, and his face is caked with soil. But Lucas doesn't want to rest. The Great War has caused a spike in wheat prices, and Lucas wants to take advantage of the market while he still has a chance.

What he needs to do is tap into groundwater so he can irrigate his crops. He's about to pick up a windmill kit that'll allow him to pump water up from the aquifer below, a river of fresh water that runs underground. But he has to keep digging in order to reach the aquifer. The task is proving more difficult than expected. Lucas gets back to it, shoveling aside more dirt, when he looks up and sees his wife Dee peeking her head into view. Hey there, how's it coming? Lucas sets down his shovel. Wish I could say better. Still dry? No water in sight. Just centipedes and spiders down here. Well, why don't you come on back up and take a break? Nah, better not. Every day I put this off is another day we're not laying down seed. Lucas grabs his shovel and

continues digging. But as he strikes the ground, suddenly there's a rumbling from above. Dirt begins to tumble down the side of his hand-dug well. He dodges out of the way as the well caves in all around him, filling the hole and undoing all of his morning's work. His wife peers over the edge, frantic. Carly! Carly, are you okay?

Don't worry, Dee. I'm fine. Well, you're not gonna be if you keep up with this. Come on out. Let's talk again about whether we can rent one of those drills. D, we can't afford it. We also can't afford you dying down there. Well, that is a point. I'll talk to the neighbors and see what I can do. point. I'll talk to the neighbors and see what I can do. Lucas abandons his shovel and begins climbing out of the well. He'll admit he feels relieved to get to the top and find fresh air again, but the feeling doesn't last long. Like everyone else in the plains, the war in Europe is his chance to make some money. So whether or not he can afford a drill, he's going to have to hurry to reach the groundwater and then plow the land and plant as many crops as possible. In the end, Carly Lucas is able to tap into the groundwater running underneath his property.

And for several years, he makes a very good living growing wheat in no man's land. It's a story that's familiar to many other farmers in the region. With mechanized equipment cutting the cost of production, profit margins increase dramatically, and farmers are able to convert the prairie land at a rate unimaginable in the years before. But this period of agricultural production doesn't end when World War I comes to a close. In November of 1919, Congress passes the Wheat Price Guarantee Act. The idea behind the law is to stabilize the wheat market and prevent a depression by promising a strong price for wheat even though there is no longer the same demand for it. And with prices

still high, farmers continue racing to turn over the native grassland and convert the prairie to agriculture. By the end of 1919, 75 million acres are put into production. And with agriculture booming, a new group of investors begins driving up production even further, buying up thousands more acres of land and turning over the native grass at an even faster pace to capitalize on the market. These businessmen become known as suitcase farmers. They arrive in from out of town, traveling on newly opened railroad lines and looking to take advantage of the booming agricultural economy. These suitcase farmers don't plan to live full-time on the land. Their goal is to make a quick and easy profit, planting crops, skipping town, and coming back

the next year for the paycheck. In Boy's City, Oklahoma, the suitcase farmers often stay at the Crystal Hotel. And one day in the early 1920s, one of these businessmen arrives at the hotel, weary from a long train ride and ready to kick his feet up. The man steps inside the two-story brick building and finds a young woman at the front desk. The man walks over and sets down his bag. As he begins the check-in process, the clerk asks what he's doing in Boy City. She doesn't recognize him.

The man grins, admitting he's here, like everyone else, trying to make an honest dollar. He's going to rent out a small patch of land and a tractor, lay down some wheat, and then come back in the summer for the harvest. The front desk clerk says lately they've had a lot of guests coming in with the same story. They're all in from out of town with no plan to stay. Everyone's trying to hit a crop. As she says this, she doesn't look the businessman in the eye. She's not saying it directly, but the businessman is getting a sense that this woman disapproves of him and the other out-of-towners. And while she's only a front desk clerk, he still feels the need to defend himself. So he explains he knows what he's doing is a gamble, but word has gotten out. There's nothing easier than farming in the plains. The banks are practically

giving away money, and any half-wit can get a loan for a tractor and a plot of land and come away flush with profit. You'd be a fool not to take advantage of a good opportunity like that. flush with profit. You'd be a fool not to take advantage of a good opportunity like that. The clerk just silently nods, stamps the man's paperwork, hands him a key and tells him how to get to his room, and then turns to the next customer. The businessman grabs his bag and starts walking to his room. He can see the locals have some resentment. That was to be expected. People have a way of getting jealous when they see someone else with a good notion about how to make a dollar. But some light hostility from a hotel clerk isn't going to change his plans. Tomorrow morning, the businessman is going to get up and take a tour of some local properties. When he's ready, he'll get a tractor and plow and start tilling up the soil.

I'm Jake Warren, and in our first season of Finding, I set out on a very personal quest to find the woman who saved my mum's life. You can listen to Finding Natasha right now exclusively on Wondery Plus. In season two, I found myself caught up in a new journey to help someone I've never even met. But a couple of years ago, I came across a social media post by a person named Loti. It read in part, three years ago today that I attempted to jump off this bridge, but this wasn't my time to go. A gentleman named Andy saved my life. I still haven't found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me. And it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues around mental health.

This is season two of Finding. And this time, if all goes to plan, we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. With the end of the First World War, America is no longer providing grain to the Allied powers. And in 1920, the Federal Wheat Price Guarantee Act expires, pushing the value of wheat down by 50%. But what farmers lose in demand and price, they make up for in increased production. They convert even more of the native grassland to

agriculture. And with increasing supplies of grain flooding the markets, the agricultural economy appears to remain strong. But that assumption is upended by another global crisis, one that becomes increasingly apparent on Tuesday, October 29th, 1929. That morning, in a small meeting room, New York Stock Exchange Vice President Richard Whitney gathers with fellow members of the exchange's governing board. They're trying to figure out a way forward from an emergency that's now unfolding on the trading floor. They've all seen the warning signs for a while now. After several months of a bullish season in early September, the market began behaving erratically,

surging upward one day and falling dramatically the next. Then yesterday, the market had an unprecedented sell-off, with the Dow dropping about 13% in a single day. The governing board knows that kind of plunge could become a self-reinforcing loop, leading to more panic and more selling. And as the meeting begins, Whitney acknowledges that some are calling for the market to close early today to let cooler heads prevail. But he says that's the wrong move. The exchange needs to project an image of strength and confidence. Otherwise, jittery investors are

going to keep selling. Several of the other board members object, saying Whitney is advocating that they play with fire. If you look at the market's movement even today, it's already heading for another big drop. There is only one pragmatic choice, and that's to close early. Whitney says he understands the impulse to pause trading, but closing before the three o'clock bell would send the wrong message. When the floor is open tomorrow, the markets will only face another wave of panic. And while there are more objections from nervous board members, ultimately, Whitney persuades the group to follow his plan. They let people keep trading for the rest of the day. And even as the markets slide further, Whitney has to believe they will recover. they will recover.

That day, on October 29, 1929, the markets closed with the Dow Industrial Average falling another 12%, a cumulative loss of 25% over just two days. Initially, people in the Great Plains see this stock market crash as a distant problem, a crisis for the wealthy and people living in cities. But in the aftermath of the crash, businesses and banks begin to fail across the country, setting off a broader economic collapse. Ultimately, the Great Depression that follows will force nearly 13 million people into unemployment. And without any source of income, many start cutting back on buying food, leading to an increase in supply

and a drop in prices. So what began as a stock market crash soon turns into a collapse in agricultural markets too. And at the beginning of 1930, the price of wheat falls so low that selling the crop barely covers the cost to produce it. At the same time, farmers are caught in a cycle of debt after expanding their operations for so many years on credit. Banks begin to foreclose on people's homes, and with their income disappearing, many farmers in the southern plains believe they have only one option. They have to continue plowing up more of the native grassland and planting more and more crops to make up for collapsing prices and demand. But for the out-of-towners and so-called suitcase farmers, they all but give up. Now that agriculture is a losing proposition,

these farmers, who hope to make a quick and easy profit, abandon their plots, leaving large, empty fields eroded and exposed. This abandonment of the land, combined with other farmers' race to plow up more soil, lays the foundations for an ecological crisis. For thousands of years, the southern plains had been home to expansive grasslands. This grass played a crucial role in the region's ecology. Most importantly, the grass held down the soil, keeping it in place amid droughts, scorching summers, and gale-force winds. But that grass had all been torn up.

The soil was now exposed across tens of millions of acres. And on September 14, 1930, the Texas Panhandle saw the first of many disasters to come when the winds picked up. That day, a middle-aged woman runs up the steps into her small farmhouse as the breeze kicks up against her back. Once inside, she looks out the window and gazes at the horizon. A mile away is an enormous black cloud approaching fast.

She's never seen anything like it, and by the looks of it, this storm could wreak havoc. So the woman grabs her telephone and dials the number for the Weather Bureau, hoping to get some answers. Hello, Amarillo Weather Bureau. Oh, thank heavens I got you. I was just outside and I saw a storm coming this way. It's big as a mountain. Man, we are getting flooded with calls at the moment. And we're doing our best to piece together a picture of what's happening. All right, but what can you tell me?

It's not moving like a tornado. It doesn't look like a regular storm. I can assure you it is not a tornado, and it's likely not a normal rainstorm. Well, then what is it? Unfortunately, we're still trying to figure that out. You don't know what it is? You're the weather bureau. Ma'am, we are doing our best, and while we're not certain what's causing this, I can offer a couple of measures you can take to protect yourself. First, stay inside. We're getting reports that this thing is carrying static electricity. It's even shorting out people's cars.

So please, don't travel. You don't have to tell me that. I'm not driving anywhere. What else do you know? Well, some people are saying that when the storm passes over, the winds outside feel like sandpaper rubbing against your face. So again, stay inside. Well, I was planning on it. But how long is this thing going to last?

Again, we're not exactly sure. The storm seems to have started in Kansas and traveled southwest through Oklahoma before reaching the panhandle. So I'd advise you just hold tight and wait. Things will be back to normal. The woman hangs up the phone and stands in the kitchen with her family, looking out the window. The black cloud is getting closer by the minute. It's a whirling, impenetrable mass that's blocking out the sun. It almost looks like it's feeding on itself, melting and turning inward as it drifts across the horizon.

And when the storm does finally arrive, it strikes the woman's house like a swarm of wasps, with dirt and debris scraping at the windows. The house goes dark like it's the middle of the night, and the woman's child starts screaming. They hold each other tight, and she promises they'll get through this. The storm will pass, and soon the skies will be blue again. Birds will start chirping. Life will get back to normal. From Wondery, this is Episode 1 of the Dust Bowl for American Scan. In our next episode, as the Great Plains enter a period of drought,

the dust storms return, and families living on the land face a decision, whether to flee or risk their lives. To listen to the rest of this season of American Scandal, start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. With Wondery Plus, you can listen to other incredible history podcasts like American History Tellers, History Daily, Tides of History, and more. Download the Wondery app today. tides of history, and more. Download the Wondery app today. If you'd like to learn more about The Dust Bowl, we recommend the book The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan and The Dust Bowl, a documentary film by Ken Burns airing on PBS. This episode

contains reenactments and dramatized details. While in most cases we can't know exactly what was said, all our dramatizations are based on historical research. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham,

for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga. Sound design by Molly Bach. Music editing by Katrina Zimrack. Music by Lindsey Graham.

This episode is written by Vanessa Gomez. Edited by Emma Cortland, fact-checking by Alyssa Jung Perry. Our senior producer is Gabe Riven. Executive producers

are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer Beckman, and Marshall Louis for Wondery.