History That Doesn't Suck - 155: The Life & Times of Warren G. Harding & The Teapot Dome Scandal

Episode Date: May 6, 2024

“If you knew of a great scandal in our administration, would you for the good of the country and the party expose it publicly or would you bury it?”  This is the story of a brilliant man’s presidency and the greatest presidential scandal to precede Watergate. This is the story of Warren G. Harding and the Teapot Dome Scandal. Growing up in Ohio, Warren–or little “Winnie,” as his mom calls him–shows his brilliance from day one. The smart, charismatic, and handsome boy grows up to become a newspaperman and falls in love with politics while reporting. He soon becomes a rising star, holding Ohio then national offices. Taking the reins of government after World War I, the Republican hopes to return the post-war, economically downtrodden, and fearful nation to “normalcy.” But can he return the nation to “normalcy” while his friends in the “Ohio Gang” are making shady deals? And what does Warren know of these deals? Is he naive? Or is the several-times adulterous president, who copes with the stress of office through drink and gambling, in on it? That’s the question we’ll ask ourselves as we follow his less-than-a-full-term presidency. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. HTDS is part of the Airwave Media Network.  Interested in advertising on the History That Doesn't Suck? Email us at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Kick off an exciting football season with BetMGM, an official sportsbook partner of the National Football League. Yard after yard, down after down, the sportsbook born in Vegas gives you the chance to take action to the end zone and celebrate every highlight reel play. And as an official sportsbook partner of the NFL, BetMGM is the best place to fuel your football fandom on every game day. With a variety of exciting features, BetMGM offers you plenty of seamless ways to jump straight onto the gridiron and to embrace peak sports action. Ready for another season of gridiron glory? What are you waiting for? Get off the bench, into the huddle, and head for the end zone all season long.

Visit BetMGM.com for terms and conditions. Must be 19 years of age or older. Ontario only. Please gamble responsibly. Gambling problem? For free assistance, call the Conax Ontario helpline at 1-866-531-2600.

BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Growth is essential for every entrepreneur. At BDC, we get that. And the businesses we support grow at double the average rate. Accelerating the pace. We're on it. BDC. Financing. Advising. Know-how. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck.

I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. It's a warm, muggy Memorial Day, or Decoration Day, as it's still known, May 30th, 1922.

But forget the heat and humidity. Whitfield McKinley could not be more pleased as he and his wife, Kate, walk the streets of Washington, D.C., making their way to the National Mall for the dedication of the Lincoln Memorial. Truly, it's a special day. In fact, as they walk, let me explain why this event is particularly special to someone like Whitfield McKinley. An aging, handsome, long-time public servant turned businessman, Whitfield has lived quite the life. He grew up during the Civil War,

became one of South Carolina's first black state legislators during the post-war Reconstruction years, and proudly called President Theodore Roosevelt a friend while serving on the Rough Riders D.C. Housing Commission. Whitfield also served as President William Howard Taft's collector of the Port of Georgetown. Yes, this mustachioed black southerner has seen the best and the worst of his nation in the last seven decades, so it's beyond question that few at this dedication today can appreciate the significance of Abraham Lincoln's presidency

like Whitfield or his wife. And honoring the great emancipator with a Republican back in the White House, no less? Goodness, maybe this is a sign of better things to come. Perhaps an end to Jim Crow segregation. Ah, but I digress. Let's get back to the McKinleys. Whitfield and Kate walk past rows of Henry Ford's famous, only available in black, Model Ts parked near the 555-foot-tall marble, granite, and bluestone, nice-built Washington Monument. They pass the field, but still in complete reflection pond. They walk beside tens of thousands of their fellow Americans. They pass aged, feeble Civil War veterans clad in their blue and gray uniforms, dressed so today in an act of remembrance and unity.

They all stand proudly under the U.S. flag. No stars and bars are in sight. Continuing on, the McKinleys draw closer to the Lincoln Memorial itself. It's breathtaking. Rectangular and cubed, the 100-foot-tall and 190-foot-long structure's Colorado white marble exterior shimmers in the sunlight. Thirty-six massive, fluted dork columns, one for each state of the nearly reunified Union at the time of Lincoln's assassination, encompass the memorial.

Dignitaries, including former President, now Supreme Court Chief Justice and head of the Lincoln Memorial Commission, William Howard Taft, Republican President Warren G. Harding, Tuskegee Institute Principal, Dr. Robert Russo Morton, and Abe Lincoln's aging, lone surviving son, Robert, are seated amid these columns. Just behind them sits Daniel Chester French's 19-foot tall Georgia white marble sculpture of Lincoln. How many, I wonder, take note of the details? Of how Lincoln sits contemplatively, his left hand clenched showing his wartime strength, his right hand open symbolizing Lincoln's compassionate nature.

Do many of the dignitaries here today wander into the memorial's northern and southern chambers, each containing one of artist Jules Guérin's murals entitled Emancipation and Unity respectively? Do they take note of the well-paired Lincoln speeches beneath each work? His Gettysburg Address, reminding the living to ensure that this battle's dead, fallen to give the Union a new birth of freedom, did not die in vain. His second inaugural address, calling for Americans to forgive with malice toward none, with charity for all. Whether they do or don't, all the dignitaries are shuffling to their seats

now. It's time to dedicate this godlike, eternal home for the memory of the cabin-borne rail splitter president and his life dedicated to and given for the ideas of liberty and unity. Whitfield and Kate McKinley are now approaching the memorial steps. Public servant and dignified invitee that he is, Whitfield figures he'll be seated near the former president whom he served, William Howard Tapp. Whitfield pulls out his and his wife's tickets, which read, Platform Section 5. He hands them to an attendant.

But the seats aren't at this platform. Instead, military escorts lead the McKinleys away from the front. They walk a block back to an overgrown, untended section of grass with backless benches and poor visibility. That's right, the dedication of the Great Emancipators Memorial is a racially segregated event. Among the first black invitees to arrive, Whitfield and Kate stand in this otherwise empty second-rate section, processing the irony. Their thoughts are interrupted when a Marine, looking to see other arriving black spectators, tells them to sit. Whitfield answers, he's considering it. The Leatherneck impatiently snaps back, well, you better think damned quick. Oh, that comment sets off Whitfield

and the growing crowd of black attendees. All of them were already upset at being Jim Crowed at the Lincoln Memorial. And now a Marine is swearing at them, with women present no less. These men are incensed and they let the devil dog know it. As they do, a commanding officer tries to intervene. He makes it worse by defending the Marine, exclaiming, That's the only way you can handle these damned n****s. That comment cuts. Nor is this what Whitfield or any of Section 5's descendants of the Emancipated came to experience today. Hearts pound, adrenaline flows, fists clench, but they

walk it back. In fact, they walk away, feeling thoroughly insulted and Jim Crowed. 30 or so black attendees, including leaders from Howard University, former assistants to the Secretary of War and the Attorney General, and of course, Whitfield and Kate McKinley, all leave. The dedication goes forward. Tuskegee principal Robert Morton, who watched keenly from the stands as his fellow black Americans departed, concludes his keynote by calling on all Americans, quote, to strive on to finish the work that Lincoln so nobly began to make America an example of equal justice and equal opportunity. Chief Justice William Howard Taft speaks of Lincoln's Christlike influence as he ceremonially hands over the Lincoln Memorial to President Warren G.

Harding. And what does Warren, the leader of the nation and the party of Lincoln, have to add? His speech describes Lincoln's dedication to the Union, to the Constitution. Warren calls the Illinois rail splitter modest yet ambitious and argues that this memorial, matchless tribute that it is, is less for Abraham Lincoln than for those of us today. And for those who follow after, his surpassing compensation would have been in living to have his 10,000 sorrows dissipated in the rejoicings of the succeeding half century. True as that last point might be, how ironic that, as Warren speaks of sorrows dissipated, dozens of eminent black Americans are processing their own fresh sorrows caused by this very dedication.

Although Warren Harding is unaware of what befell Whitfield McKinley and other black attendees, the Lincoln Memorial dedication is but one glimpse into the burden this president carries as he aspires to guide the nation to its best self, to normalcy, as he puts it. Essentially, to fill the shoes of the great Abraham Lincoln. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. We now move on from the dedication of a memorial to one of our nation's greatest presidents to meet one of our less well-remembered presidents. Today's tale is that of President Warren G. Harding and the infamous Teapot Dome scandal.

We'll start by meeting a young Warren, or Little Winnie as he was known, a truly gifted child with the work ethic to match. We'll see him become a newspaper man, find love in the arms of his wife, Flossie, but also find love in another set of arms. Indeed, we'll find that brilliant, eloquent, and capable as Warren is, he's a man who rarely says no to temptation as he ascends to the U.S. Senate, then runs for the presidency on the idea of normalcy. We'll then focus on the worst of the scandals of the U.S. Senate, then runs for the presidency on the idea of normalcy. We'll then focus on the worst of the scandals of the Harding administration, the Teapot Dome scandal. But as I regale you with the tale of Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall

taking bribes to let oilmen have access to the Navy's oil reserves, including the soon-to-be infamous reserves at Teapot Dome in Wyoming, a question will linger in our minds. Does President Warren G. Harding know what's going on? Or is this quite brilliant, sophisticated man somehow naively unaware? It's something we'll contemplate well after Warren's premature and untimely death in the White House. Well, ready to experience the most scandalous event in presidential history prior to Watergate? Let's get to it then. Rewind.

On November 2nd, 1865, just seven months after the surrender at Appomattox, George and Phoebe Harding of Blooming Grove, Ohio, welcomed their first child into the world, George and Phoebe Harding of Blooming Grove, Ohio, welcome their first child into the world, Warren Gamaliel Harding. Affectionately known as Winnie, the boy grows up in a loving family that will eventually include eight kids. His supportive mother has nothing but confidence in her precocious, intellectually gifted eldest child, and despite their modest standing in life, she's quick to predict little Winnie will one day be president. Okay, a lot of mothers say those sorts of things. Fair enough.

When the family moves to Caledonia, Ohio, word-loving Winnie finds work with a local newspaper, the Caledonia Argus. He's paid with a printer's ruler, a 13M makeup ruler, known by tradesmen as the tool of a full-fledged printer. It becomes this newspaper boy's most prized possession. He'll carry it as a good luck charm all the way to the White House. In 1879, 14-year-old, 6-foot-tall, blue-eyed, and olive-skinned Winnie begins his studies at Ohio Central College in the Buckeye State's small town of Iberia. Naturally smart, Winnie excels here, even starting a college newspaper called The Iberia Spectacular.

Graduating three years later, in 1882, 17-year-old Winnie joins his recently relocated family in the growing railroad town of Marion, Ohio. Winnie turns to teaching. He'll later describe this point in his life, writing, I did what was very much in practice at the time, turned to teaching, in my abundant fullness of knowledge having just come out of college. He uses a word for which he'll later be credited as inventing to describe his state of life. He bloviates, that is, loafs about while doing a lot of talking. But bloviating isn't all that Winnie had hoped. In a February 1883 letter to his aunt, Sarah Harding Dickerson, he expresses discontent with his chosen profession. Quote,

Next Friday, forever my career as a pedagogue will close, and oh the joy! I will never teach again without better, a good deal too, wages, and an advanced school. Close quote. Huh. Low pay and demoralized over low student engagement? For a K-12 teacher? I know. Very shocking. With the financial help of his father and some older friends, Winnie purchases local daily newspaper, The Marion Star. Only 20 years old, the newspaper owner knows that, to have the paper taken seriously, he must report on serious things. And what's more serious than politics?

With 1884's Republican National Convention in Chicago, the up-and-coming newspaper man makes the 300-mile Northwest trip. He's enthralled by the political speeches, and despite James Blaine winning the presidential nomination, is wowed by young Theodore Roosevelt. Thus begins Winnie's political career. Well, okay, it isn't quite that easy. The ever-motivated child prodigy will need some help. Much of that will come from a new woman in his life. The brown-motivated child prodigy will need some help. Much of that will come from a new woman in his life. The brown-haired, blue-eyed, recently divorced, and stinking rich Marion native. Florence Kling, better known as Flossie. Gossip that Flossie is pursuing Winnie spreads across the small town of Marion. Her father, Amos Kling, is infuriated.

He angrily yells at his daughter one night over dinner, Harding would never amount to anything. Flossie doesn't listen. She sees Winnie's potential and continues to slip out to see her beau. She likes him because of the way he talks. He's interesting. This angers Amos even more, particularly as he believes the rumor that Winnie has black ancestry.

With the support of local politicians, the powerful and disapproving father launches a series of coordinated attacks on Winnie, even threatening to put his shotgun to use should the young newspaper man dare to marry his daughter. Wow. Gives a whole new meaning to the idea of a shotgun wedding. Yet, the young and in-love Ohioans are undeterred. Winnie and Flossie get engaged in early 1891, and I'm pretty sure you can guess how Amos reacted. The father and daughter never speak again after the engagement. It's almost 8 p.m., July 8, 1891. 300 guests are taking their places in the soon-to-be-married couple's large,

two-story Mount Vernon Avenue house in Marion, Ohio. Yes, at their home, not at the local Epworth Methodist Church. Amos made sure they couldn't use it. Draped in an ivory crepe de chine dress with a satin scroll design and ivory pumps, Flossie walks, absent her father, down the aisle as the wedding march plays. She and Winnie are posed on the oak wood stair landing, listening to the Reverend rush through their vows, since Flossie has ordered the ceremony to end promptly at 8.30. If it doesn't, it will have to start over at 9. Flossie nervously glances at the waterbury cherry clock mounted on the wall. 8.29. Her pulse quickens. Luckily, when he kisses her right as the clock strikes 8.30, and the two are married just in time.

Refreshments and wedding cake are served in the dining room, and Flossie jokes to one of her guests that one day she, and I quote, would make him president. Flossie, or the Duchess, and sometimes the boss, as her new husband will take to calling the willful woman, is organized and driven. She's a wonderful pairing to the more easygoing but brilliant Warren. That combo won't keep Winnie's heart from wandering, though. Just a few years from now, he'll start seeing Carrie Phillips, the first in a long string of the rising politician's sordid affairs.

But right now, in the early 1890s, Winnie remains a newspaper man, and his only connection to politics is writing about them. However, during William McKinley's 1896 presidential run, this 6'2 Marian native speaks on Will's behalf, making a name for himself in Ohio. Capitalizing on this momentum, Winnie successfully runs for state senate in 1899 and becomes one of the most popular general assembly members. A fellow reporter says the state senator, quote, was soon regarded as a coming man in Ohio politics. He was an excellent mixer. He had the inestimable gift of never forgetting a man's face or his name and there was always a genuine warmth in his handshake, a real geniality in his smile.

He was a regular he-man according to the sign manual of the old days. Close quote. Exactly what attracted Flossie to her husband in the first place. Other newspaper reviews likewise rave. Winnie is the kind of guy you'd want to grab a beer with. Easygoing and talkative, yet always looking ahead to the next move. Continuing to keep a foot in the door of politics for the next 10 years, Winnie spends most of his time working for the Marion Star and caring for Flossie, who is facing a few health scares. In 1910, the Republican Party convinces him to run for governor of Ohio. Though he loses this gubernatorial election in 1914, Winnie becomes a full-fledged U.S. Senator. Two important things happen for the Senator-elect. One, he becomes known as a great harmonizer,

according to an unnamed journalist. Even the politician himself says, I have made it an unfailing practice to so conduct my own campaign that I have never put a stone in the way of the election of a competitor. And two, Warren makes a friend who will later serve as his attorney general. The square-faced, one blue and one black-eyed, Scotch-Irish descent Ohioan, Harry M. Doherty. It's while serving as a senator that Winnie receives a note from the daughter of an old Marion friend, a young lady named Nan Britton, asking for help finding a job as a secretary. Winnie responds and the two kindle a friendship that soon blossoms into a bit more. Yep, another affair. Our up-and-coming politician is establishing a dangerous pattern of giving in to temptation.

Always thinking of the next move, Winnie writes to a friend just a few years after becoming a U.S. Senator, I expect it is very possible that I would make as good a president as great many men who are talked of for that position, and I would almost be willing to bet that I would be a more common, sensible president than the man who now occupies the White House. The papers agree. Articles describe Winnie's quote-unquote magnetic personality and his rare power of convincing his hearers. In December 1919, the former newspaper man makes a low-profile announcement that he's running for president. But the path to the White House isn't going to be easy. To have any real chance, Winnie has to have the support of his home state of Ohio. Luckily, his good friend Harry Doherty

is expressly poised to help out, all legally, of course, as he'll later describe in his 1932 book, The Inside Story of the Harding Tragedy. Yet, Winnie's win in Ohio is a closer shave than expected. Then he gets crushed in Indiana's primary. The once hopeful candidate grows demoralized. He thinks about throwing in the towel, but Flossie won't let him drop out. Warren Harding, what do you think you're doing? Give up? Not till the convention is over. You can't. Think of your friends in Ohio. We're in this fight until hell freezes over. Sounds about right for the woman who once quipped,

I have only one real hobby, my husband. At any rate, it sounds like Winnie is stuck running. But his kindly campaign methods are going to have to change. It's May 14th, 1920. We're at the annual Home Market Club dinner, likely taking place at its 11-story, white stone, ornamentally decorated headquarters at 77 Summer Street in downtown Boston. Winnie Harding has been campaigning all across the country, but now he's speaking to the members and friends of this organization that publishes The Protectionist, a journal about political economy. The crowd quiets down as the U.S. Senator ascends to the podium, when he takes a deep breath and begins.

My countrymen, there isn't anything the matter with the world's civilization except that humanity is viewing it through a vision impaired in a cataclysmal war. Poise has been disturbed and nerves have been wracked and fever has rendered men irrational. Sometimes there have been drafts upon the dangerous cup of barbarity. Men have wandered far from safe paths, but the human procession still marches in the right direction. Here in the United States, we feel the reflex rather than the hurting wound itself. But we still think straight, and we mean to act straight, and we mean to hold firmly to all that was ours when war involved us, and seek the higher attainments which are the only compensations that so supreme a tragedy may give mankind.

America's present need is not heroic, but healing, not lawful, but normalcy, not revolution but restoration, not agitation but adjustment, not surgery but serenity, not the dramatic but the dispassionate, not experiment but equipoise, not subvergence in internationality but sustainment in triumphant nationality but sustainment in triumphant nationality. The crowd listens, enthralled by this presidential candidate's call to return America to its pre-war isolationist state, to what Warren declares is, quote-unquote, normalcy. Perhaps taking after Lincoln's success in brevity in the 1863 Gettysburg Address, the hopeful candidate closes his not-even-five-minute speech, saying,

My best judgment of America's needs is to steady down, to get squarely on our feet, to make sure of the right path. Let's get out of the fevered delirium of war with the hallucination that all the money in the world is to be made in the madness of war and the wildness of its aftermath. Let us stop to consider that tranquility at home is more precious than peace abroad, and that both our good fortune and our eminence are dependent on the normal, forward side of all the American people. We want to go on, secure and unafraid, holding fast to the American inheritance and confident of the supreme American fulfillment.

This return to normalcy campaign, as it comes to be known, sees great success. With a little under-the-table, last-minute help from Ohio's political insider, Harry Doherty, help that involves notorious oil man Jake Hammond, Winnie wins the Republican nomination on June 12, 1920. Not everyone is thrilled, though. Some delegates walk away feeling that perhaps the only reason he won the nomination is because everyone wanted to go home. In support of their candidate, the RNC also pays upwards of $20,000 to the outspoken Carrie Phillips, who is threatening to publish intimate letters from her love affair with Winnie. Joined by running mate Calvin Coolidge, the Ohioans' front porch campaigning,

calls for a return to normalcy, and isolationist policies all garner great success. Winnie's Democratic opponents, James Cox and running mate Franklin D. Roosevelt, feel more like an extension of Woodrow Wilson than a new, fresh Democratic ticket. And I trust that you recall from previous episodes just how unpopular the professorial president's League of Nations and internationalist approach currently are for the war-weary American public. On the cool, overcast fall day of November 2, 1920, after her husband's favorite breakfast of waffles with chipped beef and gravy,

Pelosi becomes the first wife to ever vote for her husband to be president. Not a bad 55th birthday for Winnie. Casting his own ballot, Winnie is forced to go through the motions multiple times in order to let the photographers and moving picture camera operators with their new-fangled machines get all the content needed. One photographer jokes that the Republican candidate has broken the law by voting twice. Nice. While Winnie didn't outwardly break any laws during the campaign,

it is hard to say how much under-the-table money is being tossed around here. Later historians will debate that well into the indefinite future. Winnie and Calvin win the popular vote with a grand total of 16,152,200 votes to James Cox's and FDR's 9,147,353 votes. Socialist Eugene Debs ekes out 919,799. The electoral victory is even more astounding. The Harding-Coolidge ticket wins 37 of the 48 states to take 404 electoral votes, the most overwhelming win since that of 5th

President James Monroe. Generally speaking, the newspapers chalk it up to an overwhelming demand for change, which voters hope the return to normalcy politician will deliver. On a cold, windy March 4th, 1921, Whitney takes the oath of office to become the 29th President of the United States. And surprisingly, the lifelong orator is brief. In fact, his inaugural address is fairly unremarkable and even draws some criticism. According to popular journalist H.L. Mencken, quote, he writes the worst English I have ever encountered. It reminds me of a string of wet sponges, of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad the sort of grandeur creeps into it. The entire article goes on like this, ending with yet another jab. To quote again, this is what it will get for four long years unless God sends a

miracle and the corruptible puts on incorruption. Harsh words from H.L. Mencken. But little does the journalist know that while God might be sending something, it will be less the corruptible putting on incorruption, and more the corruptible being corrupt, particularly when it comes to oil. Metrolinks and Crosslinks are reminding everyone to be careful, as Eglinton Crosstown LRT train testing is in progress. Please be alert, as trains can pass at any time on the tracks. Remember to follow all traffic signals. Be careful along our tracks, and only make left turns where it's safe to do so.

Be alert, be aware, and stay safe. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. And stay safe. banking, investing, and more, we answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. The Nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles. Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events.

And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as hard as you are. So turn to the nerds to answer your real-world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life.

Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. During World War I, navies the world over ditched coal in favor of oil. Between this naval shift and the rise of automobiles, the cost of oil skyrocketed, more than doubling between the war's start in 1920 to about $3.40 per barrel. That same year, Director of the U.S. Geological Survey, George Otis Smith, raised a problem. We have apparently used up to 40% of our oil supply. There is a need for a countrywide thrift campaign looking to the saving of this oil supply. There is a need for a countrywide thrift campaign looking to the saving of this essential resource. While some American oilmen looked internationally to deal with the

shortage, others wanted to open up reserves in the West. With Warren Harding's election, yes, now that he's president, we'll drop the cute childhood nickname. Oilmen Jake Hammond and Harry Sinclair hoped that the new Republican president would lift the restrictions against leasing land on Osage and Navajo reservations. They also set their sights on the U.S. Naval Petroleum Reserves that former presidents William Howard Taft and Woodrow Wilson had set aside in case of war. California, Buena Vista, and Elk Hills, respectively, while the third and most profitable was the 9,481-acre oil field known as Teapot Dome, just north of Casper, Wyoming. Teapot was rumored to hold 150 million barrels of oil, and transferring them to the Secretary of the Interior could open them up for commercial bidding. Only the Attorney General's recommendation and President's approval could make this happen, but again, with Warren's White House arrival, oilmen saw an opportunity. In fact, just after Warren's GOP nomination in June 1920, Jay Kamen, his old pal, Ohio's Harry

Doherty, and a few others took a little trip to the Scots-Irish Ohioans' cabin. One can only imagine the scheming as this group reveled in their success at catapulting their candidate toward the White House. And we are left to imagine largely, since there's only one account of the weekend written by the ex-wife of one in this group, a woman named Roxy Stinson. According to Roxy, everyone was drunk while Harry boasted of being slated for a big job with the rest of his quote-unquote Ohio gang. He isn't wrong about that big job.

Mr. Harry Doherty is the future Attorney General. Huh. One of those key positions needed to open up those oil reserves. Let's not forget that. But alas, no big job for Jake Hammond. The oil man dies at the hands of his mistress shortly after the November election. Now, despite the name, this so-called Ohio gang includes New Mexico's U.S. Senator Albert Bacon Fall. This six-foot legislator with a walrus mustache is commonly known as a schoolyard bully, except his schoolyard

is the Senate. Or it was, until Warren asks him to be Secretary of the Interior. Albert's cautiously happy with his appointment. He writes to his wife, Emma, after accepting the position, I am now trying to see the compensations which may offer themselves in that position. Huh. Another one of the key positions needed to open up and lease those oil reserves. We'll note that too, and while the presidential cabinet will contain some outstanding individuals, leaders who will do great things well after the Harding administration, Warren will lean particularly hard on Attorney General Harry Doherty and Senator-turned-Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall. The tall, grain, and handsome new executive starts his presidency with some strong first

few steps. He signs an official resolution to end U.S. involvement in the already over-great war, speaks out against lynchings, and pushes forward an emergency bill to help American farmers. But as he does, Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall is doing a little hustling of his own. The former Senate bully is pushing to get the Navy's Wyoming and California oil fields placed under his department's control. Yep, just as recently killed Jake Hammond and still breathing Harry Sinclair and other oilmen want.

And heads up, while you know I prefer to keep us on a first name basis with historical figures, we'll use Harry Sinclair's last name just so we don't get him confused with Harry Doherty. Anyhow, Albert's in luck. Secretary of the Navy Edwin Demby shares Albert's desire to open up every natural resource. And so, the scheming begins. It's April 1st, 1921, just a few weeks after Albert Fall has become Secretary of the Interior. We're in his office at the neoclassical, E-shaped limestone U.S. General Services Administration building between E and F Streets and 18th and 19th Streets in Washington, D.C. He and Navy Secretary Edwin Demby are meeting, and according to Albert's later recollections, Edwin mentions that the Navy is struggling with

its oil reserves. It seems oil wells on land adjacent to the reserves are tapping into or draining Navy oil. As such, the Navy man suggests that perhaps the Department of the Interior would be better suited to manage these reserves. How true this version of events is or isn't, I can't say. But either way, the two men go to the President and get his blessing to transfer these reserves. Albert then drafts an executive order. But when Edwin shows this document to other naval leaders with real expertise on these oil fields, they push back. Hard. They haven't seen any perceptible drainage over the past several years, certainly nothing to justify this transfer.

Admiral Robert Griffin exclaims, we might as well say goodbye to our oil. After a rowdy debate, the officers begrudgingly agree, but only after adding another paragraph to the order saying that the Interior can do nothing quote, without the approval of the Secretary or acting Secretary of the Navy, close quote. Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Ted Roosevelt Jr. takes the revised order back to Albert Fall.

The forceful Secretary of the Interior scratches out the added paragraph. On May 31st, 1921, Ted Jr. again serves as the gopher, taking the executive order now bearing the signatures of the Secretary of the Interior and the Secretary of the Navy to President Warren Harding. According to his Ohioan buddy, A.G. Henry Doherty, Warren, quote, had implicit faith in Fal's ability as a lawyer and expert on oil lands, close quote. And so, the President signs it, seemingly without reading it over. Executive Order 3474 is enacted. It reads, The Secretary of the Interior is authorized and directed to perform any and all acts necessary for the protection, conservation, and administration of the said reserves subject to the conditions and limitations contained in this order and the existing laws or such laws as may hereafter be enacted by Congress pertaining thereto. And there we go. Albert now controls the naval petroleum reserves in California, Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah.

The newly empowered Secretary of the Interior plans to lease out these lands with zero input from anyone, including the Navy Secretary. He makes this clear as he writes to bespectacled and mustachioed oilman Edward Doheny that July, I shall handle matters exactly as I think best and will not consult with any officials of any bureau in his department. Okay then. As for Edward, he will later claim that he understood everything to follow had the President's blessing. Is he being truthful? We'll never know. A few months later, in November 1921, Edward Doheny and his wife visit D.C. for the dedication of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and to discuss oil leases with Albert Fall.

Under their tentative agreement, the whole California Naval Oil Reserves, at least 300 million barrels of oil, are Edward's. All he has to do in return is build a fuel oil storage station at Pearl Harbor and give Albert a $100,000 loan to help him buy a New Mexico ranch property he's had his eyes on. The money is delivered to him in cash in a black satchel during the night. Albert will later say that it never occurred to him that this might constitute a bribe. Right. Hearing about this deal, Harry Sinclair wants in. On December 22nd, 1921, Albert receives a telegram informing him that Sinclair and his monogrammed shirt-wearing lawyer, J.W. Bill Zevely, want to see him, and I quote,

on a very urgent matter. On December 30th, the three sit down at Albert's newly acquired ranch in Three Rivers, New Mexico. The so-called urgent matter is Sinclair's desire to drill for oil on the Osage Reservation. Well, Albert is all for opening up native lands to oil and gas exploitation without tribal input or compensation and gladly dashes off a telegram to Washington, D.C. But Sinclair isn't done. He also wants the oil lease to the Navy's reserves in Wyoming at Teapot Dome. Defending himself later on, the Secretary of the Interior will write to the Senate committee that, quote, The fact that Mr. H. F. Sinclair came to Three Rivers on December 31, 1921 or January 1, 1922 have incited some evil-minded persons to the conclusion that I must have obtained money from Mr. Sinclair.

It should be needless for me to say that in the purchase of the Harris Ranch or in any other purchase or expenditure, I have never approached E. L. Doheny or Mr. H. F. Sinclair or anyone connected with him or any of his corporations, nor have I ever received from either of said parties one cent on account of any oil lease or upon any other account whatsoever. Close quote. Interesting assertion, but we won't get ahead of ourselves. Albert and Sinclair still have to finalize their deal. It's February 18th, 1922. We're back in Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall's office in the General Services building in downtown Washington, D.C., where he, Harry Sinclair, and the oilman's lawyer,

Bill Zevely, are meeting. In the two months since their chat back in New Mexico, Sinclair has sent six heifers, a yearling bull, two young boars, four sows, and an English thoroughbred racehorse, all on his private railroad car, of course, to Albert's New Mexico ranch. Huh, how thoughtful. Chief Petroleum Technologist for the U.S. Bureau of Mines, Arthur Ambrose, now enters the room. Per Albert Falls' request, Arthur has prepared an estimate of the total oil in the teapot area. It's at least 135,050,000 barrels of oil, which could yield a profit of over $495 million. Arthur presents his findings to the three men, but as he does, he states that there is no immediate danger of drainage from nearby oil rigs. Not the right thing to say. The office goes silent.

The meeting soon adjourns. And yet, just 10 days later, on February 28th, Sinclair announces a new subsidiary of Sinclair Consolidated Oil, called Mammoth Oil Company. He doesn't mention that he's created it only to buy teapot. Someone suggests that Albert have A.G. Harry Doherty look over the proposed lease. He doesn't like that idea, saying, the Attorney General would stop us from doing anything. But would Harry, who has no problem getting his hands dirty, really stop this? Or does the shady Secretary of the Interior just want to keep the likewise shady AG from getting in on the action.

A month later, on April 7, 1922, Albert signs the final draft of the agreement. With some nudging, he lets Navy Secretary Edwin Denby sign the following day. No other oil company has had the opportunity to bid on the teapot land. Albert will later claim this is to protect quote-unquote military secrets. The government gets a huge chunk of the profits, but Albert also gets a generous $233,000 gift from Sinclair in the form of government bonds, supposedly because he wants to buy some of the Secretary of the Interior's enchanting New Mexico ranch. This ranch has now funneled two bribes to Albert, one from Harry Sinclair and one from Edward Doheny. Leaving D.C. on April 12, 1922, Albert locks the deal in his desk and gives his number two clear instructions to have everyone in the department stay silent. This way, Albert can announce the two oil deals with Edward Doheny and Harry Sinclair at the same time, thereby ensuring

conservationists and other anti-oil protesters can't do anything because both deals will already be done. Sneaky. But it doesn't quite work out that way. Two days later, on April 14th, the Wall Street Journal breaks the news, quote, the Wall Street Journal breaks the news, quote, the arrangement marks one of the greatest petroleum undertakings of the age and signalizes a notable departure on the part of the government in seeking partnership with private capital for the working of government-owned natural resources, close quote. Four days later, on April 18th, Albert tries to do damage control. He issues a press release that officially authorizes the Pearl Harbor contract with Edward.

It doesn't work. The American public is suspicious. The U.S. Senator from Wisconsin, Robert Feitenbaum La Follette, introduces a resolution to the Senate on the 28th that states, quote, The great issue involved here is whether the Congress of the United States, charged with solemn responsibility under the Constitution as trustees of the public domain, is to take the necessary steps to protect the people of this country from the extension of monopoly control over their natural resources. Congress, in the present instance,

must either call for an investigation which will unearth all the facts or, by its silence, it must share its responsibility with the executive branch. Close quote. The fightin' senator asks the president for a copy of his executive order

that transferred the Naval Reserves to the department. Warren Harding responds, This wasn't the first time that this rumor had come to me, but if Albert Fall isn't an honest man, I'm not fit to be president of the United States. Meanwhile, on May 8th, Albert receives Liberty Bonds valued at $198,000 from Sinclair as a thank you. On June 7th, Albert presents Warren

with a 75-page report detailing the two oil leases. His cover letter warns the President, I think you will find it fully and thoroughly comprehensive, if tediously long. I am handing you these documents in the sincere belief that the contracts entered into and the policy as formulated will redound to the credit of your administration, both in the immediate present and in the distant future. The report is a nightmare. It's filled with falsehoods, half-truths, and intentionally obscuring legal jargon. Albert has justified the teapot lease as necessary to eliminate drainage threats, but we know that's not true.

He also claims to be breaking up an oil monopoly, which is flat out false. Nor does the Secretary of the Interior even acknowledge his failure to allow competitive bids for these oil fields. It's unclear if Warren ever reads the full report. He trusts Albert, but that's the wrong bet. The President sends Albert's report to the Senate, along with his own cover letter, stating that, quote, The policy decided upon and the subsequent acts have at all times had my entire approval. Close quote. This is the final blow.

Without knowing it, the President of the United States is complicit in a bribery scandal. Or did he know? It's exceptionally unclear. answer, you'll want to share it with everyone you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to Minute Earth wherever you like to listen. and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like Barry Strauss,

podcasters like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the temple of the Feathered Serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the catacombs beneath the temple of the feathered serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world.

Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Despite Congress investigating his oil deals, Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall continues on, intent on squeezing coal, oil, phosphate, and potash out of the Alaska wilderness. Warren Harding seems on board. The handsome president even wants to visit the last frontier himself to scope out Albert's plans. Unfortunately, the trip gets postponed. Twice. But Albert's plans for Alaska are crushed when Secretary of Agriculture Henry Wallace says he would, quote, expose the case against Fall, his colleagues, forests, oil, and everything to the nation, close quote. Obviously, Albert doesn't want his under-the-table dealings brought to the surface, so he relents. The project is scrapped.

Meanwhile, that August, the Denver Post starts probing into Albert's teapot dome deal with Harry Sinclair. Not all of what the newspaper publishes is spot on, but the sensational articles sell papers and keep teapot in the national conversation. Oof, the summer of 1922 is shaping up badly for the president. This teapot is starting to brew. He now has to handle Albert's storming into the Senate request to send Marines to Teapot Dome as well as mining and railroad strikes out west. Meanwhile, Warren's current mistress, Nan Britton, visits and it doesn't go as planned. On top of that, a professor is looking to publish a nasty tell-all book about the president's personal life and supposed black

ancestry. Warren, who already has a habit of late-night cards, gambling, and drinking, often with the Ohio gang and to the first lady's displeasure, copes with these pressures by drinking even more than usual. Nor does it help when, the following January, Albert Fall announces his resignation from the cabinet, effective March 4, 1923. Before he goes, he pushes one more backroom deal, giving Sinclair a five-year renewable contract to buy the oil from the teapot fields that had initially been given to the U.S. shipping board. Shockingly, the president approves the deal, writing to Albert on October 30th that he, quote, has no concern about Wyoming oil matters.

I am confident you have adopted the correct policy and will carry it through in a way altogether to be approved. Close quote. Damn, is Warren this naive or that unconcerned? We'll never know which it is for sure. In June, 1923, Warren is preparing for his long-awaited trip to Alaska, and frankly, much of the western U.S. This is Warren's voyage of understanding, and it's intended to be filled with speech-giving.

But right before the trip, he sits down with his dear friend and A.G., Harry Doherty. Harry will later recall their conversation in his book. The president asks, Now, I want to get some law business out of you for nothing. Well, that's what you've been doing all day. What is it? Fire away. I want you to draw a new will for me.

All right, let me see your old one. Studying the president's weary face, Harry senses that his old friend has a premonition of sorts about this trip. The clean-shaven, though not clean-living AG implores Warden to dial back the speech-giving on hot June and July days. Harry exclaims, it would kill any man who had attempted. Ultimately, Warren agrees. Then, on June 20, 1923, he and his wife Flossie head west to begin their tour in their luxurious train car, appropriately called Superb.

In July, while on the four-day boat ride to Alaska, a seemingly uneasy President Warren Harding asks his accompanying Commerce Secretary Herbert Hoover, If you knew of a great scandal in our administration, would you, for the good of the country and the party, expose it publicly, or would you bury it? Hoover remembers advising the President to expose it, but Warren apparently says he won't, since he fears the political repercussions. Meanwhile, Warren gives no thought to his promise to Harry. Between June 20th and July 31st, he averages more than two speeches per day, totaling 85 during one

of the hottest summers on record. He's so run down that he continually refers to Alaska as Nebraska. On July 25th, Warren experiences sudden, sharp abdominal pains, a low-grade fever, and an increased heart rate. Harry Doherty later recalls that, "...the strain was enough to have killed a much younger and more robust man, to say nothing of a man with a weakened heart, who had not yet recovered from the influenza and was threatened with Bright's disease." Flossie has her doubts too. She'll later recall,

I never expected him to get out of there alive. I knew how sick Mr. Harding was even before he left Washington. Nor will the First Lady forget an astrologist, one Madame Marcia Champigny, who, years ago, told her that Warren would have numerous affairs and that, quote, if this man runs for the presidency, he will die a sudden death. The stars say that he will give his life for a cause or that he will sacrifice his life for his friends. This person will be the next president of the United States, but he will not live out his term, close quote. While I'm not one for astrology or fortune tellers, I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge just how frighteningly on point this prediction

proves to be. It's the afternoon of August 2nd, 1923. President Warren Harding is in a room at San Francisco, California's externally plain but internally extravagant Palace Hotel, resting up after the Alaska leg of his journey. Three accompanying doctors and two new arrivals, five physicians in total, attend to him as First Lady Flossie Harding and A.G. Harry Doherty nervously fret right outside the busy hotel room. Hours pass. It's now around 7 p.m. Flossie sits and reads to Warren. It's an article in the Saturday Evening Post entitled, A Calm View of a Calm Man that describes her husband as a president who, quote, doesn't struggle mightily, as have some others who have occupied his seat, with the little things, but treats them as such. And when a real emergency comes along,

he gets actions as quickly, quicker in many cases, than some of his much-lauded strenuous predecessors. Close quote. Huh, a little praise in the press. That's always nice. But as Flossie reads, Warren's body stiffens. His face grows pale, fearful, and is soon covered in sweat. Dr. Joel T. Boone rushes over, but thankfully, the president's heart rate begins to return to normal. Calming down, Warren comments, I don't know what happened to me. A very strange, sinking feeling that I have never experienced before. He's told to remain still, yet protests. I'm so damn wet. They help Warren dry off and change his pajamas.

Warren turns to his wife. Florence, please go on with your reading. I don't know what happened to me. It was a very strange experience. It came on unbeknownst to me. Now I feel perfectly comfortable as though I had never had such an experience. The doctors leave the room. Flossie dutifully continues. A nurse steps out of the room for a moment to grab a glass of water to help the president take his nightly medication. Flossie turns the page of the post. Just as she does, Warren throws his right arm over his head.

She sees his face twitch. Leaping to her feet, Flossie rushes into the hallway, exclaiming, Call Dr. Boone! Get Dr. Boone! Quick, please! The doctors rush in. Seated next to her husband, Flossie sobs. Warren, Warren, Warren. She cries as she rocks back and forth, unable to process what's happening.

Flossie tells Dr. Boone, they tell me that the president is dead, but I do not believe it. I know that you can assure me that is not a fact. The doctor desperately tries to give him stimulants, but it doesn't work. The 29th president of the United States, Warren G. Harding, is dead.

While sources conflict on the exact details of the day Warren died, that account fairly reflects the later recollections of Dr. Joel T. Boone, Flossie, and Harry. Meanwhile, the five physicians issue a joint statement. On October 2, 1923, at 7.32 pm, Warren Harding died from a stroke of apoplexy. False rumors will claim Flossie poisoned her unfaithful husband, but in reality, the First Lady is devastated. On the funeral train back to D.C., Harry takes note of how her lips quiver as they speak of dearly departed Warren, and how he wore himself out in service to his country. As the train passes

through towns and cities, people come out to bid farewell to their president. Even amid thunderstorms, they stand outside. With Warren dead, the red-haired, large-nosed, and often frowning Vice President, Calvin Coolidge becomes President. He's not looking forward to the mess that awaits him. As lawyer and future FDR cabinet member, Harold L. Ickes, quips, Teapot Dome is going to be a heavy load for Mr. Coolidge to carry. His position is not improved by the circumstances that he sat in the cabinet when the deal was being considered and approved. And indeed, the Senate is taking its investigation of the Teapot

Dome scandal seriously, particularly with Montana's stern-faced Senator Thomas J. Walsh leading the charge. His biographer, J. Leonard Bates, jokes that, quote, Sherlock Holmes could not have been presented with a more tantalizing case than that facing Thomas J. Walsh in September 1923. Close quote. The hearings are no joke. They last two years with 84 days of in-court conversation, 144 witnesses, and tens of thousands of documents. A bit much for us to detail, but here's a quick rundown on the main cases and convictions. First up, we have United States v. Pan American Petroleum and Transportation Company and United States v. Mammoth Oil Company. Ruled on in 1927, it results in the cancellation of Secretary

of the Interior Albert Falls oil leases. Next is McGrain v. Doherty. Also decided in 1927, this one focuses on A.G. Harry Doherty's brother, Malley Doherty, who's fighting his contempt conviction and arrest for refusing to testify before Congress about his brother's involvement in the Teapot Dome scandal. It doesn't go Malley's way, and in the process, sets the precedent for Congress to investigate, issue subpoenas, and compel information through mandatory testimony. We now come to United States v. Albert B. Fall and Harry F. Sinclair. In June 1929, it's declared a mistrial because Sinclair had jury members followed by private investigators. In a subsequent trial, the oil man is found guilty of criminal contempt of court and jury tampering. He does six months in prison. And last but not least is United States

v. Albert B. Fall. Yes, this is the trial of the former Secretary of the Interior, charged with accepting a $100,000 bribe from oilman Edward Doheny for the oil lease at Teapot Dome. Let's head to the court for this one and see how it goes. It's October 22, 1929. We're in Washington, D.C.'s limestone exterior, city hall-turned-courthouse, where Supreme Court Justice William Hitz is presiding over the final case to come out of the Teapot Dome scandal. United States v. Albert B. Fall Albert is now 68 years old.

Though still a New Mexico ranch owner, he's wheelchair-bound, pneumonia-ridden, and given to hacking, talking, and spitting out blood, as everyone present today can hear. A sad state, but of course, none of that mitigates the former Secretary of the Interior's charges of bribery in the Teapot Dome scandal. Judge Hitz reminds the jurors, You have nothing to do

whatsoever with the sunshine of New Mexico. You're here to decide the case of evidence and nothing else. Among Albert Falls Defense Council, Frank Hogan rises. On the payroll of Edward Doheny, that's right, the very oil man from whom Albert is accused of taking bribes, Frank has sat on some potentially exonerating information. Nor has former Attorney General Harry Doherty's refusal to testify helped Albert, but regardless, Frank has launched into his closing argument.

After speaking for four hours, he finally winds down. I must close. Men do not live, ladies and gentlemen, in the great white light of publicity for three score and ten years with an unblemished reputation for honor without deserving it. With the power comes a great responsibility, and I now shift from my shoulders the responsibility which has been mine and place it well upon yours. And I plead with you, I plead with you with all the earnestness at my command that before darkness closes in on this good day, you will send Albert B. Fall back to the sunshine and the lung-healing climate

of his beloved New Mexico with your verdict of not guilty. Not guilty. Frank sits. Judge Hitz adjourns court. The jury deliberates for three days. It's now October 25th. We're back in the courtroom, and all are silent as Judge Hitz asks the jury for its verdict on Albert Falls' charge of bribery in violation of Section 117 of the U.S. Criminal Code. Jury foreman Thomas E. Norris slowly stands and answers, Guilty. But the jury recommends clemency. Judge Hitz agrees. Under normal physical conditions, this case would warrant and require the imposition of the maximum penalty.

Because of the recommendation of the jury for mercy, I will impose upon Mr. Fall a fine of $100,000 and imprisonment for one year. The first presidential cabinet member ever convicted of committing a crime in office, Albert slumps forward in his wheelchair. His wife rushes to his side, throwing her arms around him. They and their daughters all weep. Edward Doheny raises a fist, shouting, it's that damned court. While another of Albert's lawyers and an old friend, Mark Thompson, faints and lays on the courtroom floor until he's revived ten minutes later. As for Frank Hogan, the lawyer insists that Albert was,

quote, robbed of his constitutional rights by the judge's charge. Close quote. Freed on a $5,000 bond, Albert issues a 3,000-word statement to the public. I ask the American people not to believe me guilty of the damnable crime of which I am innocent. He admits to what he calls two grave errors, which are, quote-unquote, borrowing $100,000 from Edward Doheny and attempting to hide its source from the Senate Investigating Committee back in 1924 by telling an untruth.

On July 15th, 1930, just one day before Albert Falls' prison term is supposed to begin, political leaders try to grant him a pardon. Current president, Herbert Hoover, who served as Warren's Secretary of Commerce and was present during many teapot dome related conversations, declines. Wrapping up the infamous Teapot Dome scandal, let's review our major

players and their final outcomes. After his year in jail, Albert Fall never regains his honor or reputation. He dies poor in 1944. California oil leasee Harry Sinclair does his six-month sentence for spying on the jury, but does fine in the end, dying a wealthy man in 1956. Teapot oil leasee Edward Doheny isn't convicted, but will note that his wife burns most of his letters and business documents after his death. Flossie Harding's health struggles take her to the grave on November 21st, 1924, just over a year after her beloved husband. Finally, former AG Harry Doherty writes his book about Warren Harding, desperately trying to make himself and his old friend not look corrupt. But does it work? It's debatable. When the 29th President of the United States,

Warren Harding, dies in office, amidst what is arguably the greatest presidential scandal until future President Richard Nixon's Watergate, he leaves behind more questions than answers. In addition to debating whether or not he fathered a child with Nan Britton, a question that DNA testing will answer with a yes a century later in 2015, Warren's biographers have desperately tried to figure out how much he knew about Albert Falls' illicit dealings. And honestly, it's not always clear. Warren was too trusting without a doubt. At the same time, he signed off on some shady policies, displayed a pattern for dishonesty with his numerous extramarital affairs,

and frankly, was quite brilliant, making it hard to believe he wouldn't connect the dots. But alas, we have no smoking gun. So, did Warren know about the teapot dome scandal, or was he blissfully unaware, simply trusting of his friends as he tried to lead the nation to normalcy? I guess you'll just have to decide that one for yourself. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Episode researched and written by Greg Jackson and Riley Neubauer. Production by Airship. Sound design by Molly Vaughn.

Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. Arrangement and additional composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. Sound design by Molly Vaughn. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. Arrangement and additional composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit HTDSpodcast.com. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode description. My gratitude to you kind souls providing additional funding to help us keep going. And a special thanks to our members whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Andy Thompson, Anthony Pizzulo, Art Lane, Beth Chris

Jansen, Bob Drazovich, Brian Goodson, Bronwyn Cohen, Carrie Begel, Charles and Shirley Clendennan, Charlie Magis, Chloe Tripp, Christopher Merchant, Christopher Pullman, David DeFazio, David Rifkin, Denki, Durante Spencer, Donald Moore, Donna Marie Jeffcoat, Ellen Stewart, Bernie Lowe, George Sherwood, Gurwith Griffin, Henry Brunges, Jake Gilbreth, James G. Bledsoe, Janie McCreary, Jeff Marks, Jennifer Moods, Jennifer Magnolia, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppock, Joe Dovis, John Frugal-Dougal, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Conecco, Kim R., Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goeringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphreys-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasse, Sharon Thiesen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, The Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson. The French Revolution set Europe ablaze. It was an age of enlightenment and progress, but also of tyranny and oppression.

It was an age of glory and an age of tragedy. One man stood above it all. This was the age of Napoleon. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast. Join me as I examine the life and times of one of the most fascinating and enigmatic characters in modern history. Look for the Age of Napoleon wherever you find your podcasts.