American Scandal - The Feds vs. the Activists | Billie Holiday | 1

Episode Date: October 20, 2020

Billie Holiday makes a decision. The jazz singer will perform "Strange Fruit," the protest song about lynchings, no matter what happens to her—and no matter how many times law enforcement tells her to stay quiet. But that puts her in the crosshairs of one federal official, who uses any means necessary to silence Holiday.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. A listener note. This episode contains references to sexual assault and racial violence and may not be suitable for younger listeners. It's January 1939 in New York City. Tonight, Billie Holiday stands backstage at the Cafe Society Club in Greenwich Village. It's 9 p.m., and time for her to go on stage. Holiday runs her fingers along her forearms.

Her skin is covered in goosebumps, but that's not because of the cold winter air that's leaking into the club. Tonight, Holiday is supposed to sing a brand new song, one that could get her into big trouble. Normally, she wouldn't worry about a single song. Holiday is 23 years old, but already she's toured with jazz greats like Count Basie and Artie Shaw. She loves dazzling audiences with her voice, and long ago she learned that the stage was the one place where she felt safe. But tonight is different. The song she's about to perform could destroy her career. It's the type of song that makes record producers tear up contracts

and club owners cancel bookings. And Holiday knows it's also the kind of song that brings the police knocking on your door. Holiday takes a sip of water and shakes her head. Performing this song is a major risk, and she's not certain it's worth it, no matter how strongly she feels about the song's message. Just then, she hears footsteps.

She turns to see Barney Josephson, the owner of the club. He's slender, well-dressed, with dark, slicked-back hair. He smiles. You look gorgeous, Billy. Ready to knock their socks off? Holiday pauses,

and then she makes a quick decision. Change of plans. We don't need that last song. Oh, no, Billy, that's a big mistake. I think doing the song is the mistake, Barney. Trust me, those people out there, they don't want to hear all that. Well, who cares what they want to hear? It's what they need to hear. That's what you think, but you're not me and you don't have to live with that decision. I'm just not singing it, okay? If you don't sing that song tonight, you'll never forgive yourself.

I'm just not singing it, okay? If you don't sing that song tonight, you'll never forgive yourself. That's why you're so scared. Oh, I am scared, but that's not why. I don't think you'll ever understand, but you know what? Holiday swallows hard and straightens the flowers that drape across her hair. She feels something welling up inside her, something she feels like she can't contain. And you know what?

You are right. I do have to sing that song. So Barney, don't change a thing. Just make sure my microphone's on. Josephson pats her on the back and steps through the curtains. Holiday takes deep breath. She knows that she's just made one of the biggest decisions of her life, and there's no change in her mind now. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for my dear friend, Billie Holiday. The curtains part and Holiday steps up to the polished steel microphone. A narrow spotlight illuminates her face. She launches straight into her set, and as always, she pours her heart and soul into every note.

Finally, Holiday reaches the final song of her set. She pauses, looking out at the crowd. It's a mix of black and white jazz connoisseurs sitting shoulder to shoulder. She feels a lump in her throat. Because New York is a far cry from the Jim Crow South, where black people face constant harassment just for living their lives. That suffering is something that Holiday feels deep in her bones. Because just two years back, in Texas, her father came down with pneumonia.

When he went to the hospital and begged for help, the white doctors told him they wouldn't see black patients. So he went home. In the morning, he was found dead. His mouth was stretched wide in a final, desperate gasp for air. Holiday stands on stage, remembering her father. And suddenly her mood shifts. Her fear is gone, replaced by anger and a feeling of purpose. She closes her eyes and begins singing the final song.

Her voice rises and falls through the words. Black body swinging in the southern breeze. Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees. Holiday continues singing the song Strange Fruit, an angry protest against the lynching of black people in America. And when the final note fades away, she opens her eyes. There's an eerie silence. Nobody in the audience moves.

Then all at once, the crowd roars in applause. Holiday stares at the audience, unable to move. She knows that tonight, she took one of the biggest risks of her entire life. She dared to sing about the horrors of racial violence in America. She feels light on her feet after taking such a bold step. But Holiday also knows that from now on,

she'll attract a very different kind of attention. And it'll come not just from her fans, but from those who disagree with her, from those who want to stop her, from the police, and from the feds. Get ready for Las Vegas-style action at BetMGM, the king of

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. 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 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. American Scandal In 1939, Billie Holiday took a major risk when she got up on stage to sing the song Strange Fruit. At the time, lynchings were common in America. Historians estimate that some 4,000 black men, women, and children were lynched in the United States between 1877 and 1950.

Holiday was one of the first popular black entertainers to address these crimes in her work. And while strange fruit would change the course of her career, it would also bring her into conflict with federal law enforcement. One powerful official would target Holiday, taking issue with her civil rights activism. That official would use any means to stop her from singing the protest song further. This story is the first in a four-part series examining how U.S. federal agencies try to stop the civil rights movement. Federal officials targeted not just Billie Holliday, but prominent organizers, including Martin Luther King Jr. and Fred Hampton, who led the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party. The federal surveillance, interference, and intimidation would span decades and eventually face a moment of truth.

This is Episode 1, Billie Holiday. It's the spring of 1945 in Washington, D.C. Harry Anslinger sits in his office, writing furiously when there's a knock on the door. Anslinger clears his throat and then commands the visitor to enter. Into the room steps Jimmy Fletcher. The man worked for Anslinger as a narcotics agent. In fact, he's one of a small army that Anslinger himself commands.

Harry Anslinger is the head of the Federal Bureau of Narconics, the government agency that fights drug crimes, and agents like Fletcher help him get the job done. But as Anslinger looks Fletcher over, he can't help but clench his jaws. He'll never get used to the idea of working in the same office as a black man. But he reminds himself that Fletcher can be useful, and that's why he summoned him today. Anslinger tells Fletcher to sit and cracks his knuckles. He then explains that Fletcher has a new assignment. He pushes a folder across the desk and tells Fletcher to study the contents. Fletcher opens the file.

He glances through the notes and his eyes widen. He says he recognizes the woman. It's Billie Holiday, the jazz singer. At the mention of her name, Anslinger's hands curl into fists. He tells Fletcher that Holiday is no singer. She's scum, and she's forgotten her place in society. Anslinger explains that for the last six years, she's performed a song called Strange Fruit. Its lyrics are vile and improper. They have the dangerous potential to rile up black Americans, to make them question the natural order of things. Anslinger notices that Fletcher has grown tense. The agent looks up from the file, his eyes narrow with skepticism.

Then he says that Strange Fruit is just a song. Anslinger shakes his head. He explains that he already ordered Holiday to stop seeing Strange Fruit. He actually confronted her himself in one of her filthy little clubs, but she refused. She disobeyed a U.S. federal agent, and now it's time to pay the price. Ann Slinger smiles and tells Fletcher that it's his job to put Holiday behind bars. Ann Slinger grabs a folder on his desk and pulls out an intelligence report. Holliday, he says, is a drug addict, and that's where the Bureau comes in.

Anslinger sits back as Fletcher looks over the report. Anslinger knows that this is more than just a helpful tool to silence Holliday. Fighting drug crimes, he believes, is the most important work in the United States. He believes that drug users should be locked up. They're immoral. So it makes sense that Billie Holiday uses heroin. She is also immoral, and if they

can get her on drug charges, that's just two birds with one stone. Fletcher finishes reading the file and looks up. Then he asks how he fits into the picture. Enslinger explains that because Fletcher is black, he'll go undercover. He'll meet Holiday, gain her trust, and gather evidence on her drug use. Once they're ready, they'll raid Holiday's home. Anslinger asks Fletcher if he understands the mission. Fletcher pauses and then nods. Anslinger's eyes grow steely, and he reminds Fletcher to never forget where his loyalties lie. He then turns back to his notes and orders Fletcher to close

the door on his way out. It's spring 1945 in New York City. Billie Holiday jolts out of bed with a scream. It's pitch black in her cramped Harlem apartment, and she's alone. Yet she wasn't alone in her nightmare, and she wasn't 30 years old either. She was a scared girl and a man towered over her, reaching for her dress. As she remembers the dream, tears begin rolling down her cheeks. Slowly, her eyes adjust to the dark, and the feeling of despair only grows worse as she takes in her surroundings. Holiday has performed in some of the most celebrated nightclubs and concert halls in the country. Her albums have sold hundreds of thousands of copies.

And yet here she is, in a flop house infested by rats. No matter how hard she tries, she can't put her finger on where she went wrong. Sure, she smokes, she drinks, and occasionally she cooks up brown powder and shoots it into her veins. But she's not the only entertainer with vices. The simple truth is, black singers aren't valued by those who cut the checks. Black female singers are valued even less. Holiday sighs. Maybe she'd be treated better if she just played by the rules. Holiday flops back down on her bed. No, she thinks that's just not possible. Playing by the rules

means she'd have to stop singing Strange Fruit. That's not something she's willing to do. Not while black people are still getting lynched in the South. So Holiday tries to get back to sleep. But she's afraid she'll have the nightmare again. The same she's had since she was a young girl. When she's feeling low like this, there are only two things that help. Singing is one of them.

The other is buried in the nightstand. So she gets up, opens a drawer, and stares at a syringe. It's half filled with the amber liquid she cooked up earlier. She doesn't want to use it, but she feels an itch, and she knows on nights like this, she has to scratch it. So she grabs the syringe and pushes the needle into her thigh. So she grabs the syringe and pushes the needle into her thigh. She then eases her thumb down on the plunger. Right away, she feels drowsy and numb. And as sleep overtakes her, she clings to a desperate hope that someday she'll lead a good life. A life in which she'll be free to sing any song she chooses.

It's late evening on May 15th, 1947. Jimmy Fletcher stands in front of an unmarked wooden door in Harlem. Fletcher, the undercover narcotics agent, smooths out his red jacket and tilts the brim of his fedora. Then he rings the bell. Soon he hears the clicks of multiple locks being unlatched. A young black woman in a flimsy dressing gown opens the door just a crack. Fletcher says he's here to

see Billy, and the woman steps aside to let him in. Fletcher saunters into the brothel with a smirk. Now he's fully in character, but always mindful of the mission. Fletcher needs to keep gathering intelligence on Holiday. He's spent time with her in jazz clubs and at the homes of some of her closest friends. They've grown close, and tonight Holiday called him and asked to get together. She said to meet her at a brothel. Now Fletcher stands in the foyer, glancing around. It's then he's hit with a visceral feeling of revulsion. He knows the people here are criminals

and deserve to be in prison. They may have the same skin color as him, but he doesn't feel any allegiance to people who commit crimes. So gazing around, Fletcher feels even more resolute and asks the young prostitute to point him toward Holiday's room. Soon enough, he's standing in an open doorway, looking at Holiday. She's in a snug, emerald green dress, and Fletcher watches as she takes a quick snort of cocaine. Fletcher's heart begins to race. It's a scandalous sight.

And yet Fletcher can't help but notice her long eyelashes. A moment later, Holiday catches sight of Fletcher and greets him excitedly. He takes off his fedora and asks why in the world she wanted to meet here. Holiday rolls her eyes and says she's comfortable in places like this. Here, you can do whatever you want and no one judges you. She may not work here, but truth be told, she once worked in a place like this. Fletcher feels his muscles go tight. Suddenly, he feels the urge to lift her up to bring her somewhere nice and proper, but he stifles that desire and instead asks again why she'd ever spend time in a brothel.

Holiday grins and says that sometimes what goes on in a place like this is better than what goes on at home. Fletcher can't stop himself. He asks just what went on at home. But Holiday shakes her head and looks away. Then she scoops up some white powder into a vial and places the vial in her purse. She turns to him suddenly and asks if they can go to a movie. Fletcher smiles and says sure, he'd be happy to. So she asks him to wait outside while she changes clothes.

As Fletcher stands in the hallway, he has a sinking feeling in his stomach. He doesn't want Holiday to be arrested. But he also can't disobey Harry Anslinger's orders. If he does, he'll be fired and could end up in jail himself. Or knowing Anslinger, something much worse. No, Fletcher decides the time has come. He saw Holiday put cocaine into her purse just now. It will still be there when he drops her off at home tonight.

And so as soon as he leaves her apartment, Fletcher will contact headquarters. And the raid will unfold. It's late morning on May 16th, 1947. Billie Holliday sits at the kitchen table in her Harlem apartment, eating a bowl of Cheerios and reading a Superman comic book. She stifles a yawn. She had a fun time with Jimmy Fletcher last night. It's nice to have a friend like that.

A man who actually listens to her, who treats her with respect. She hasn't experienced that kind of friendship with a man before. And until recently, she didn't believe it was even possible. Holiday takes another bite of cereal. When she hears a loud knock on the door, she looks up, startled. Who's there? Billy, it's me. Jimmy? Is that you? Holiday walks to the door and unlocks it. And there in the hallway is Jimmy Fletcher. But today he's wearing a navy jacket and tie.

Holiday furrows her eyebrows. Jimmy, what's up? What are you doing here? Billy, we have to talk. About what? Also, what's with your clothes? You look like a... Like a cop? Billy, this is how I dress in real life. You understand? Holiday feels her stomach lurch.

Without thinking, she takes a step backward. What the hell's going... You're saying you're a cop? I'm a special agent with the Bureau of Narcotics. No, no, no, no, no, no. This doesn't need to be hard. We just need to get it over with. I know you must be scared, but I can help you through it.

I promise. You promise? You promise? I trusted you. Holiday shoves Fletcher as hard as she can. He staggers back. It's then a white man in a jacket and tie comes running up the stairs. He scowls at them both. There a problem here, Fletcher? Oh, who's this, Jimmy, your little partner? The man steps forward menacingly. Watch the tone, lady. I'm the guy who's going to search this rat's nest.

Now get out of my way. The other agent pushes past them. Before Holiday can say a word, he starts opening drawers in the kitchen, throwing the contents on the floor. Fletcher calls out. It's not necessary, Johnson. I told you, it's in her purse. Yeah?

Well, I know how you people like to cover for each other. I'll do the searching. You just shut your mouth, boy. Holiday sees the pain on Fletcher's face, but all she can muster is a scowl. She shakes her head in disgust. You'll get no sympathy from her. Fletcher turns. Listen, Billy, they're going to do a strip search, but don't worry, it won't be me and it won't be him. We have a female agent on the way. Holiday glares at him, hot rage burning inside her. She then makes a decision and doesn't give it a second thought. If she's going to suffer, then Fletcher can suffer with her. We don't have to wait for some female agent. With that, Holiday pulls off her sweater, and she drops her skirt. pulls off her sweater. Then she drops her skirt. Billy, no. Just wait. She's on her way. But Billy Holiday doesn't respond. She continues unhooking her bra and removing her underwear. All the while,

she keeps her eyes trained on Fletcher with a look of fury. But Fletcher appears pained and miserable. He turns his head away. Billy, why are you doing this? I didn't do it, Jimmy. You did. He turns his head away. Billy, why are you doing this? I didn't do it, Jimmy. You did. You need to remember that. A moment later, Holiday hears police sirens approaching.

She knows what's in store for her. They're coming to take her to jail. She stands there, nude, as the police sirens grow louder and louder. Holiday can't believe it. She should have seen this coming. When she went on stage and sang Strange Fruit, she knew she'd made powerful enemies. But she put that thought out of her mind.

And then when she met Jimmy Fletcher, she let down her guard. She thought maybe, possibly, he was different from all other men. Once again, she should have known better. She should have seen all of this coming. As Holiday stands in her apartment, naked, she feels a fury unlike any other she's felt before.

People like Jimmy Fletcher, people who want things to stay as they always have been, they'll continue to try and silence her. But they won't succeed. Because right then, Holiday decides, she'll keep singing Strange Fruit. She'll keep fighting, no matter how hard her enemies fight back, and use her voice as a weapon.

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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. It's May 1947. It's been a day since Billie Holiday was hauled off to jail on drug charges.

She was released on bail this morning, and right now she's in New York City, standing on stage at Club Ebony. She sighs, feeling relief coursing through her body. It's good to be back in this dimly lit club. Ebony is one of her favorite places to sing, and standing on stage, she feels home once again. Holiday straightens the large white gardenia that's tucked behind her left ear.

She looks out at the audience as little particles of dust hover in the stage lights. She takes a deep breath, and then she begins to sing Strange Fruit. The song has become her signature finale. For eight years now, she's been warned to stop, to sing something else, something less charged. But that's only strengthened her resolve. Because she knows that if it threatens people this much, then its message must truly be powerful. She can't even count the number of fans who have thanked her and said they finally feel like their voices are being heard. Holiday knows she needs to keep singing the protest song, no matter how angry it makes certain people.

Up on stage, her voice is strong, and when she finishes the song, she gets yet another thunderous applause. Holiday wipes her forehead. Her throat aches, and so do her feet. So she heads offstage and straight to the bar. But as she stares into her first drink of the night, Holiday hears the screech of a bar stool being pulled up. She turns her head and there, standing beside her, is Jimmy Fletcher. Holiday shakes her head and returns her attention to the

drink in front of her. You've got some nerve, Jimmy. Or is it Agent Fletcher? Billy, look, you gonna run back to your master? tell him I did the song again? That's gotta be worth another promotion, right? Fletcher looks down at the floor. I didn't get promoted for what I did to you. Billy, please, can I sit? Holiday shrugs and turns away. Fletcher sits, signals the bartender.

I have a whiskey, neat. And since when do you drink? Since about five minutes after they took you away. Why the hell are you here? I came to apologize. Holiday snorts with laughter, coughing as she tries to swallow a sip of her drink. Apologize? Now that I've never seen.

A man apologizing. I'll save it. I don't need your apology. I know that. But I had to see you. Oh, so now you need something else. Another thing for you, so you can feel better about yourself? Why don't you just get out of here?

Leave me alone. Fletcher leans in closer, though. His eyes full of regret. I wanted you to know that I'm going to talk to my boss. I'm going to tell him to go easy. I want to help if I can. You, you want to help. Now, go.

Go now. I just want to be by myself. Billy, please, I'll leave. Fine. If you want to help yourself, cut out the drugs. I can't. You can't. Why?

Because if I'm not high and I'm not singing, I'm hurting. Get it? Fletcher shakes his head.'m not singing. I'm hurting. Get it? Fletcher shakes his head. No, no, I don't. Now, look, I know you had a rough childhood and all, but Holiday slants her glass down on the bar. She's lost her patience. Rough childhood.

You know what I've been through. You know what I see when I fall asleep. Back in Baltimore one day, my mother, she's late coming home from work, right? So I get to go to my neighbor's house. After a while, my neighbor, he says, looks like I could use a nap. So he takes me into the back bedroom. He lays me down on a bed, and he climbs on top of me.

I tried to fight, but I couldn't. He was a full-grown man, and I was a ten-year-old girl. So yeah, I had a rough childhood. Fletcher swallows hard. I'm really sorry, Billy. Sorries don't help. Music helps. Drinking helps.

Drugs help. Then focus on the music. You don't need the other stuff. Holiday stares back into her drink. She hears Fletcher sigh. On stage, a jazz quintet begins to play Moonlight Serenade. Then Fletcher scoots his barstool back and stands. He then offers his hand to Holiday and gestures to the dance floor. For a moment, she stares in disbelief. Holiday can see that he's desperate, hungry. He wants redemption. She's seen that look in a thousand

men's faces. Billy, I hate myself for what I did to you. I always will. I'd like to make it up to you. At that moment, Holiday knows that she's trapped. A claustrophobic feeling wraps itself around her like a cold blanket. This cop, this Jimmy, is demanding forgiveness, and he won't let up. And he's a man who could have her arrested all over again. Holiday knows she has only one choice, so she takes his hand, and the two step out onto the dance floor. Fletcher pulls her close and squeezes her tight. His breath is sour and hot. The two sway to the music, and Holiday closes her eyes. Maybe with Jimmy Fletcher on her side, they'll let up and stop harassing her.

Making him happy is her only option, she thinks. But she's not going to stop singing Strange Fruit. She won't stop protesting against the violence that's taken so many lives. She's not stopping anything. It's May 1947 in Washington, D.C. Inside his office, Harry Anslinger sits across from a man named Louis McKay. McKay is Billie Holiday's former pimp, and as Anslinger stares at him, he can't say he's surprised. McKay is a bulky man who's squeezed into a loud maroon suit.

He smells like he took a bath in cheap cologne, and he sweats even while sitting still. Anslinger grimaces, releases a deep sigh, and then continues running a plan by McKay. Normally, Anslinger doesn't have to deal with lowlifes like this. But he needs McKay's help. After Engineering Holiday's arrest, Jimmy Fletcher lacked the guts to follow through. He begged Anslinger to be lenient toward Holiday. After engineering Holiday's arrest, Jimmy Fletcher lacked the guts to follow through. He begged Anslinger to be lenient toward Holiday. So Anslinger immediately took him off the case and demoted him to the archives department.

Anslinger shakes his head. Honestly, it's better than Fletcher deserves. So with Fletcher gone, Anslinger had to find another informant. Because despite the arrest, Billie Holiday still wouldn't give in. She wouldn't stop singing Strange Fruit and riling up black Americans. Luckily, it didn't take long to get to McKay, her former pimp, who promised to help put Billie Holiday behind bars for good. As they sit across from each other,

Ann Slinger explains that Billie Holiday has gotten too high and mighty for her own good. She needs to be taught a lesson. McKay takes a maroon pocket square from his jacket and wipes a bead of sweat from his thin mustache. He then nods his head and says he agrees. He had the same experience. McKay says that once Holiday began recording music, she started thinking she was better than him. But he made Holiday.

Seems only fitting that now he's going to break her. Anslinger crosses his legs and leans back. He looks out the window, thinking about the plan. It has to be foolproof. He can't let Holiday slip away, not when she continues to disobey his orders. Anslinger then turns back to McKay with a cold smirk. He says McKay should contact Holiday and act like he's turned over a new leaf. Maybe he should even apologize for treating her badly. He should then invite Holiday to his place and make sure there's more than enough drugs there to land her in court. That's when he should call Anslinger and his agents, and they'll come put her in handcuffs. McKay dabs his mustache again

with his pocket square, and his eyes narrow. And for a moment, Anslinger wonders whether he's about to say no. Cold fury begins to rise inside him. But then McKay leans forward and reaches out his meaty hand. Anslinger hesitates. Normally, he wouldn't shake hands with a black man. But more than anything, Anslinger wants to take down Billie Holiday. And this black man, McKay, can help. So the two shake hands, and Ann Slinger smiles, as he pictures Holiday going to jail for a very long time. Later that month, Billie Holiday sits on a stiff wooden chair inside a federal courthouse in Philadelphia. Her body's aching, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't wake up from this nightmare.

She looks over at the judge, and with pleading eyes, she begs for mercy. But he only stares at her with a frigid, emotionless glare. Holiday feels a wave of nausea as she looks around the courtroom. The dark wooden walls feel like they're closing in on her. She swears she can smell something rotten in the air. She grabs her face. She shuts her eyes. Holiday hasn't had a fix in days, and her body feels like it's giving up on her.

Just then, the blonde district attorney stands and announces that Holiday has been charged with violations of the Narcotics Act. She has received, carried, and facilitated the transportation and concealment of drugs. Holiday holds her head in disbelief. It's all a lie. Those drugs belonged to her old boyfriend, Louis McKay. He'd called last week out of the blue,

saying he was sorry that he was a different man. He'd begged Holiday to take him back. She was feeling low after what happened with Fletcher, and she badly wanted to believe McKay. So she went to his apartment. There, he poured stiff drinks and handed her a joint. Then McKay got up to make a phone call.

Ten minutes later, there were four police officers in the apartment. That's when Holiday realized that she had been set up. She'd been tricked and destroyed by a man once again. And now here she is, in another courtroom, in the middle of a terrible withdrawal, facing charges without even a lawyer on her side. Holiday grits her teeth and shuts her eyes. The judge leans down from the bench and asks Holiday for her plea. She nods her head, and in a quiet voice she says, guilty. She can only hope she'll get off easier if she cooperates. She then looks around the

courtroom and adds that she would like to be sent to a hospital for treatment. She wants to get clean and stop using. She just needs a little help. The judge and the DA exchange a look. Then the judge announces that he's made his decision. Billie Holiday will receive treatment in a hospital, but it will be a prison hospital. She is hereby sentenced to imprisonment for one year and one day. The judge then brings down his gavel with a loud bang. Just like that, it's over. Holiday sees the bailiff approaching with handcuffs.

She realizes it will be a very long time before she ever sings again. 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 Plus. It's January 1949, about a year and a half after Billie Holiday was sentenced to prison. Today, she's examining her reflection in a mirror. She smiles because she likes what she sees. She looks like her old self again, and there's a clarity in her large brown eyes. That's a reflection of the newfound clarity in her mind. For well over a year, Holiday has been clean and sober. Holiday turns away from the mirror

and gazes across her suite at the Mark Twain Hotel in San Francisco. The bed is wide, and the carpeting feels soft underfoot. Holiday grins. She almost can't believe she's standing here in a fancy hotel room, paid for with her own money. She emerged from jail weak and wrecked and went straight back to the bottle. And as a convicted felon, she couldn't sing in New York clubs that served alcohol. Her career seemed like it was over.

But that's when her friends suggested San Francisco. You didn't need a cabaret license to perform there. And so for months now, Holiday has been singing almost every night to sold-out crowds. She's received standing ovations, especially when she closes with Strange Fruit. After her time in jail, the song means even more to her than it did before. Holiday sees that the world is slowly beginning to change, and she believes that Strange Fruit has played a part in that change, however small. Plus, there's nothing that the Federal Bureau of Narcotics can do to stop her singing it,

now that she's off drugs, for good. Holiday splays out across her bed, when suddenly there's a pounding on her door. Holiday raises an eyebrow in surprise, but heads over to greet whoever's there. Holiday pulls open the door, then gasps and steps back. An enormous, leering white man stands in the hallway. His ruddy cheeks bulge as he grins. Behind him stand several uniformed policemen with blank expressions. Holiday stammers and asks if she can help them.

The giant man pulls a badge from his pocket and holds it an inch from her nose. He says that his name is Colonel George White, and he's with the Federal Bureau of Narconics. He will now conduct a search of her hotel room. Holiday says she doesn't understand what this is all about. But White tells her to shut up. He calls her a junkie and says it's time for her to pay for her crimes. Holiday's heart starts to pound. Her arms grow weak.

She says she hasn't touched a drug in over a year. She's heart starts to pound. Her arms grow weak. She says she hasn't touched a drug in over a year. She's completely clean. No one's going to find anything in this room. Agent White laughs and tells her that she's guilty and it's obvious. He points into her room and says he can see her heroin kit right now, right from where he's standing. It's sitting there on the nightstand. That's not all. He's also just spotted a small baggie of opium. He sees that she tried to hide it in the wastebasket. Holiday's mouth goes dry. She knows there's nothing on the nightstand,

and nothing in the wastebasket. She sees a grin emerging on White's face, and she realizes what's happening. Before she can say a word, Agent White pulls a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. Holiday feels her entire body go numb with shock as the cuffs are slapped on her wrists. White shoves her into the hallway and tells her that Harry Anslinger sends his regards. That name echoes in Holiday's mind, like the image of the neighbor who attacked her 24 long

years ago. A bitter smile comes to Holiday's lips, though. She finally understands. It doesn't matter what she does from now on. Nothing matters. Ann Slinger will always find a way to get her, and he will never, ever stop. More than ten years later, in July of 1959, Billie Holiday wakes up in a small, white room. The smell of disinfectant stings her nose. She swallows. Slowly, her blurred vision sharpens. And then she remembers where she is. She gazes around the room. She's on her sickbed in the Public Ward of Metropolitan Hospital in New York. She was brought here days ago after collapsing at a friend's house. Holiday sighs and turns over in

bed. She's too tired to get up, somehow too tired to fall asleep. She's tired of everything. For years, she stood up for herself and for black people across America. She saw where that got her. She faced years of harassment from law enforcement. They came after her with one drug charge after another. They wore her down. Now today, all she wants to do is close her eyes and make it all go away. But it won't go away, and the knock on the door proves it. Holiday knows it could be a doctor or it could be a police officer. At this point, it doesn't really matter. But when it opens, she sees that it's her friend,

Maylee Dufty, who's also a talented singer. Holiday smiles weakly as Dufty walks over. Billy? Billy, Billy. It doesn't matter if you're pancake flat on a hospital bed, you still look beautiful. Those are sweet words, but I don't believe them. Believe them or don't, I have something that without a doubt will lift your spirits. Dufty approaches Holiday's bed. She pulls a pair of comic books out of her purse and sets them on a bedside stand.

Your favorites. Now, you really are too sweet. Holiday coughs and clutches her side. Billy, what happened? What's going on? They say it could be any number of things. My liver's shot from booze, my heart, my lungs, both black from smoking, and then the ulcers in my legs from the junk I've been shooting. Oh, Billy.

Holiday watches as Dufty pulls a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and dabs at the corners of her eyes. Holiday sits up. Don't cry for me. I did this to myself. I don't think so. I think they did this. They put you in jail for a year. A year. You get out, and they never leave you alone. And then San Francisco?

At least those bastards got caught for framing you. It doesn't matter if it was them or some other cops. They're going to keep coming after me, so I decided to enjoy myself. I guess I enjoyed myself too much, huh? Look at me. Hey, hey, I'm going to help you. You're going to get better, and you're going to get out of here. I promise.

I think that ship's sailing. Don't say that. You're sweet, but let's be honest here. If all the stuff wrong with my body doesn't kill me, then the feds will. You watch. They're going to arrest me in this damn hospital bed. Billy, don't give up. Not yet.

We're going to make this right. Holiday smiles weakly again, then leans back and closes her eyes. As she falls asleep, suddenly she sees her father's face. She feels warm, relaxed. And for a moment, she wonders what he felt right before he died. Whether he understood that it wasn't pneumonia that killed him, but something else. Holiday hears a gentle melody, like a breeze on a spring day. Her body feels light and she begins to drift off to sleep.

But before she does, she has one final thought. She hopes... She hopes that she'll never wake up again. to drift off to sleep. But before she does, she has one final thought. She hopes... She hopes that she'll never wake up again. Later that week, Holiday's worst predictions came true when she was arrested in her hospital room. Narcotics officers claimed to find heroin in a tinfoil envelope nailed to the wall

six feet from the base of Holiday's bed. It was an area she was incapable of reaching given her lack of mobility at the time. But Holiday was indicted and handcuffed to her hospital bed and remained there until her death on July 17, 1959. Holiday was 44 years old and had just $750 to her name. When Harry Anslinger learned of Holliday's death, he reportedly rejoiced. Anslinger retired in 1962 after serving as the commissioner of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics for 32 years. In that time, Anslinger learned that well-known white entertainers used heroin and other drugs. He refused to prosecute any of them.

Billie Holliday is remembered as one of the greatest American jazz vocalists of all time. Her first performance of Strange Fruit in 1939 is cited by many as a milestone of the civil rights movement and a protest anthem that still resonates today. In 1999, Time magazine called Strange Fruit the best song of the century. fruit the best song of the century. Next on American Scandal, a young minister named Martin Luther King Jr. spearheads the fight for racial equality, but King's cause is threatened by a powerful new enemy, J. Edgar Hoover, the director of the FBI. From Wondery, this is Episode 1 of The Feds vs. the Activists for American Scandal.

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. And a quick note about our reenactments. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but all our dramatizations are based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about Billy Holliday's life and work, we recommend the book Chasing the Scream by Johan Hari. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham, for Airship.

Audio editing by Molly Bach. Sound design by Derek Behrens. This episode is written by Hannibal Diaz. Edited by Christina Malsberg. Produced by Gabe Ritten. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer-Beckman, and Hernán López for Wondery.