The Plow That Broke The Plains

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The Plow That Broke The Plains

In 1936 the federal government released a film. They called it a documentary, but it was mostly propaganda. Many would argue that its cause was noble rather than sinister. Others, as we’ll see, would vehemently disagree. But to understand why the federal government got into the propaganda film business, you first need to understand the Dust Bowl.

To understand what life was like for Kansans who lived through the Dust Bowl, we searched deep into the oral history collection at the Kansas Historical Society. These are excerpts of recordings we found from people who lived during that time:

"Tell you a little bit about the dust storms. They did not blow in. There was no wind. It was quite as could be, still."

"By the time it (dust storm) got over as far as our place, we couldn't see the neighbors we couldn't see our own front porch light. It was frightening. You thought at first that you'd gotten in on the last day in the world."

"Our youngest child was only about two years old, and at night I would wet one of the crib sheets and put it over the crib so he could breathe."

"It was rough but we learned to accept our lot in life and look for better times."

As you can see, life was rough for everyone during the Dust Bowl. The Department of Agriculture decided much of the Dust Bowl was the fault of bad farming practices, and it wanted them stopped. To do that, they needed farmers to buy into new programs and need congress to fund them. 

And that’s where our film comes in. It was called "The Plow That Broke The Plains". While paid for by the federal government it was the brainchild of first time director Pare Lorentz.

Parts of it were shot in Kansas and the lush score, as much a character in the film as the land, was composed by Virgil Thompson who was born in Kansas City. 

Film was becoming the most powerful media of the time, and Washington was going to use it to change hearts and minds. The government wanted to show that there are good ways to use the land and bad ways.

The film shows cattle and cowboys using the vast grasslands of the plains to raise beef. But suddenly the music changes, the visuals go from the natural beauty of the plains to farmers cultivating it. You see plows breaking the plains. It’s ominous. 

The swath of the Great Plains that stretched from Canada to the Rio Grande was super productive for many years. There were several years of record rainfall early in the century, and because farmers used mules rather than tractors to plow, the land used for wheat was somewhat limited. 

But then the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo changed farming in Kansas.

England declares war in Germany, Belgium Invaded screams the fake headline in the film. And then the headline changes to: "War News Tumbles Securities, Stock Exchange Closed, Wheat Prices Soar. Plow To The Fence For National Defense". 

Now the movie shows tractors in formation plowing the plains. If they look like tanks entering battle, well, so much the better. In fact, at one point tanks and tractors are intercut. War, of course, needs soldiers and soldiers must be fed so the governmentwas buying everything in sight.

 

After the allies win the war land speculators encourage some of the returning doughboys and others to move to the plains and put even more land into production. Then the stock market crashed in 1929. And in short order wheat prices plunged from $25 a bushel in 1929 to just 39 cents in 1932.

There’s a confluence of events in the early 30s that lead to the production of "The Plow that Broke the Plains". Land was being over-farmed. Much of that land should have never been plowed. The rain stops. And Franklin Roosevelt is in the White House. FDR creates something called the Resettlement Administration in 1935. Its mission was to move farmers off marginal land in the Dust Bowl region and help them move to other parts of the country. The government made this film to sell its plan to congress and voters. It would make many other movies during the depression but this was the first and it just didn’t sit well with many in Kansas.

William Lindsey White, son of William Allen, would write from Washington that “the film was destined to rot slowly in the archives as an official congressional document.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. The film was mostly rejected, propaganda many theater owners said. But the movie’s failure at the box office didn’t bury director Pare Lorentz. Lorentz was a new dealer through-and-through. He was often called “FDR’s film maker.”

Lorentz would go on to direct two other classic propaganda films for the government: "The River", about the Tennessee Valley Authority and "The Fight for Life", about infant mortality in America. Lorentz died in 1992 at age 86, but his career as documentarian isn’t forgotten. Young film makers are trained at the Pare Lorentz Institute at the FDR Library. 

Virgil Thompson, who wrote the score, grew up in Kansas City but he spent his career in New York. He was a friend of Gertrud Stein and a peer of Aaron Copeland. Thompson would also work with Lorentz on The River. And in one more little connection to Kansas, that score was used in the 1983 movie The Day After, a film about nuclear war shot in Lawrence. Thompson died in 1989 at age 92.

Our theme music is used in this episode is Shy Touches by Nameless Dancers. Other music used in this episode is Snowcrop and A Rush of Clear Water by Blue Dot Sessions; both have been edited.

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The Battle At Tuttle Creek

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The Battle At Tuttle Creek

To understand the battle at Tuttle Creek you need to know just how bad the flood of 1951 was in Kansas. 

There’s an amazing British Pathe newsreel (https://youtu.be/FTXV9plm7ck) that was filmed in 1951 after pounding rain caused flood waters to sweep down the Kansas River from near Manhattan and into Kansas City, swamping Emporia, Salina and other parts of the state. 

The film is dramatic. Cars float by in Topeka, rail cars disappear under water in Kansas City, dozens are rescued by boat in Manhattan. And it’s right near Manhattan that our flood story turns contentious, a little dangerous, and decidedly Hollywood. 

By all accounts the Blue Valley of Kansas was happy and peaceful. It was not only beautiful but also had some of the most productive farm land in Kansas. By 1951, some families had been farming there for three generations.

The valley gets its name from the Big Blue River. Its headwaters are in Nebraska, and it flows south until it meets the Kansas River right near Manhattan. It’s part of the greater Missouri River basin. 

While that was ground zero for the ’51 flood, the fact is flooding in a number of river basins around Kansas had been a problem the federal government had been fretting about for a long time.

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After years of research, interupted by World War II, the government came up with something called the Pick-Sloan plan. It was named after Lewis Pick and William Sloan, both men with roots in the Army Corp of Engineers. 

It was a massive plan, calling for 107 dams, 1,500 miles of protective levees, 4.7 million acres of irrigation systems, and 1.6 million kilowatts of electric power thrown in to boot, all at a staggering cost of $200 million. The project today would cost $2.7 billion.

That investment, the government said, would prevent the kind of devastating floods that swept down the Kaw in 1951. Those floods killed seventeen people, and a half million more were displaced. It caused almost a billion dollars in damage. Some people called July 13th, 1951, the day the waters started to rise, Black Friday.

With all the devastation, you’d think everyone would want to try and control the rivers to mitigate flooding. But in one part of Kansas, just the opposite happened.

“The Tuttle Creek Story” is an amazing bit of propaganda filmmaking financed by the people of the Blue Valley as they fought the federal government’s plan to dam up Tuttle Creek and create the Tuttle Creek Reservoir.

In the end, of course, the dam would be built and the reservoir is now the second biggest artificial lake in Kansas. Ten towns disappeared in the process and some 3,000 people lost their homes, farms and businesses.

The people did not go down without a fight, though. They hired a Hollywood producer named Charles M. Peters to produce "The Tuttle Creek Story". Peters would also produce a similar land rights film in San Diego with famed directors Cecil B. DeMill and Frank Capra. 

"The Tuttle Creek Story" artfully contrasts the gorgeous fields and down home looks of the Blue Valley residents, with ominous marching boots, made up scare headlines and dark music. The movie wants you to believe the federal government is invading this bucolic valley for some nefarious but undefined purpose.

There are reports at the time of some residents who went to work for the corp being harassed and some tense moments between residents of the Army Corp.

It wasn’t obvious how the Blue Valley residents found movie producer Charles Peters, there seems to be no documents or news stories pointing in that direction. But then we stumbled across a movie called "The Fallbrook Story", with an introduction by Cecil B. DeMill of all people.

The Fallbrook Story involves water rights near San Diego when the federal government moved in to gobble up land to build Camp Pendleton, the massive Marine Corp base. The film was directed by Frank Capra in 1952, just a year before "The Tuttle Creek Story", and produced by Peters.

They sure feel the same.

"The Tuttle Creek Story" is not 100 percent propaganda. The residents also suggest other ways to control flooding. Stop the water where it falls, the film preached.

But. the dam is built, of course, and in 1963 the lake starts to fill. And more than 50 years later, it turns out the Tuttle Creek warriors maybe were right.

Countless millions of people have swam, boated and fished in the reservoirs created by the Sloan-Pick plan in Kansas. But half a century later they need some tending too, some very expensive tending to.

Right now the state is spending $25 million at the John Redmond reservoir near Burlington to dredge it of silt. That reservoir supplies water to the Wolf Creek Nuclear power plant.

Rex Buchanan, who runs the Kansas Geological Survey says most of these lakes will need dredging so the silt doesn’t fill in big chunks of the reservoirs and dramatically lower the water capacity.

If this story reminds you of, say, Cliven Bundy in a stand off with the Bureau of Land Management, well, I thought that too. And while there is a clear distrust of the Army Corp, the notion of citizens armed with rifles staring down government agents just doesn’t seem possible in 1950s Kansas. 

"The Tuttle Creek Story" had its premiere in Randolph, Kansas on September 18th, 1953. It showed continually in two schools from 10:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. Some 6,000 people saw it on that day. 

The Blue Valley residents did manage to stop the project for a couple of years. But in the end no film and no amount of community organizing could keep ten Kansas towns from disappearing to the bottom of the Tuttle Creek Reservoir.

Our theme music is used in this episode is Shy Touches by Nameless Dancers. Other music used in this episode is Traceless and Drifting Spade by Blue Dot Sessions; both have been edited.

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Basketball, Big Dollars, And The Man From Lawrence Kansas

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Basketball, Big Dollars, And The Man From Lawrence Kansas

By: Sam Zeff and Matt Hodapp

Sam Zeff

Sam Zeff

We take it as a matter of fact now that sports are big business. Professional sports are a huge business, but almost all the rest are at at least big. College coaches make millions of dollars for coaching and millions more for shoe endorsements, TV, and camps. But it wasn’t always this way. We were reminded of that by a recently discovered radio broadcast from New Year’s Eve, 1939 on WOR. 

Gabriel Heatter introduced “We the People”, a regular Sunday night broadcast. Heatter loved uplifting stories, especially about dogs, but on this night we’d hear from the man who today has a street, a dorm, and a basketball court named after him.

Dr. James Naismith talked about the first basketball game in Springfield, Mass in 1891. He had two peach baskets nailed to the wall, an old soccer ball, and instructions to find some indoor activity for a bunch of young men couped up by “a real New England blizzard.”

"The boys began tackling, kicking, and punching," Naismith said. "They ended up in a free-for-all in the middle of the gym floor. Before I could pull them apart, one boy was knocked out, several of them had black eyes, and one had a dislocated shoulder. It was certainly murder,” Naismith said on the broadcast. 

Kansas Historical Society 

Kansas Historical Society 

"Well, after that first match, I was afraid they'd kill each other. But they kept nagging me to let them play again. So I made up some more rules. The most important one was there was to be no running with the ball. That stopped the tackling and slugging. We tried out the game with those rules and we didn't have one casualty. We had a fine, clean sport."

Two pages of typed rules would later lead to a globle, multi-billion dollar sport. But Naismith had issues with the game he invented, some of the same issues we have today.

Naismith was born in Ontario in 1861. His parents immigrated to Canada from Scotland. He went to school at McGill University in Montreal where he played rugby, lacrosse, and soccer. But he excelled in gymnastics. He’d go on to get a BA in physical education, and later go on to become an ordained minister, and a medical doctor. 

Naismith arrived at the University of Kanas in 1898. At a time when the world celebrated Renaissance men, James Naismith more than fit the bill. Now, though, we celebrate him for the invention of basketball, a game that is global and growing. But unlike any other sport in America, there is a founding document and a founding father.

The college game is faster now, and not segregated as it was then. But when you read the rules, Naismith would certainly recognize the game he invented back in Springfield, Mass. Recognize it, but he just might loath what it has become

The rules sold for $4.3 million at auction. The DeBruce Center where the rules are housed cost $21.7 million. All the money was privately raised.

The center is attached to Allen Fieldhouse, arguably one of the most valuable venues in college sports.

Naismith didn’t address the commercialization in that 1939 broadcast, but he had his worries many years before.

Here’s part of what he had to say in the May, 1911 edition of the Graduate Magazine of the University of Kansas in a piece titled Commercialism in Sports.

“By commercialism is meant the paying of those who take part in athletics of any kind, either in money or in rewards which have a money value...” the subject, he goes on to say, “is not an easy one to handle for it is far from being settled.”

Kansas Historical Society

Kansas Historical Society

And then Naismith says this: "There is not a governing body of athletics today but would be glad of information leading to a solution of the problem in such a way as to advance the interests of the athletes and the sports.”

Sound familiar? We talk about these issues today.

Should we now pay college athletes as well as provide them scholarships? Do athletics add to the mission of a college? Is a hundred dollars a ticket a little too much for a college sporting event?

Naismith recognized that people could make a living playing sports. He mentions baseball as being far more a pro sport than an amateur one in 1911, and he talks about other positives things.

But here’s how he wraps up:

“The college student is the hero of the high-school boy. It is the duty of every student to align himself with the highest and most advanced ideals of sport as well as everything else...”

Our theme music is used in this episode is Shy Touches by Nameless Dancers. Other music used in this episode is Begrudge and City Limits by Blue Dot Sessions; both have been edited.

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The Sudden Need To Run

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The Sudden Need To Run

By: Sam Zeff and Matt Hodapp

If 2016 is the most tumultuous presidential election year you’ve ever seen that simply means you weren’t alive or paying attention in 1968. 

The year was marked by assassinations, a war in Vietnam that went from awful to worse, and bitter fights for the Democratic and Republican presidential nominations. But the political craziness really took off in March of that year.

President Lyndon Johnson was wildly unpopular, and he was being challenged from the left by Sen. Eugene McCarthy from Minnesota. On March 12, the two battled to a tie in New Hampshire. A week later, Robert F. Kennedy suddenly and unexpectedly entered the race.

Then, LBJ surprised the country during a nationally televised speech.

“With America's sons in the fields far away, with America's future under challenge right here at home, with our hopes and the world's hopes for peace in the balance every day, I do not believe that I should devote an hour or a day of my time to any personal partisan causes or to any duties other than the awesome duties of this office--the Presidency of your country,” Johnson said at the very end of his speech. Then he said one of the most quoted sentences ever from an American president: “Accordingly, I shall not seek, and I will not accept, the nomination of my party for another term as your President.” 

With a sitting president out of the race, the Democratic and Republican fields were wide open. And for a couple of days in mid-March, most political eyes settled on Kansas when Robert F. Kennedy, the young senator from New York, showed up.

First, a little about why Bobby got into the race and what drove LBJ out. Johnson won in a landslide in 1964, the biggest landslide since Kansas Governor Alf Landon got pasted by FDR in 1936.

In 1964, Johnson had pushed through the most significant civil rights bill since the Civil War, and he was pushing his Great Society package of social reforms: Medicaid, Medicare, and federal funding for education.

As high as Johnson was riding in 1964 and 1965, that’s how low his presidency had sunk by 1968. His approval rating was 35 percent. The last shreds of hope for Vietnam disappeared in late January with the Tet offensive. 

Students held hunger strikes in Boston in February, protesting the war. The Black Panther Party was gaining prominence. LBJ was weak but no big name Democrat would step up to run against him. Then Sen. Eugene McCarthy from Minnesota got in the race as the anti-war candidate.

LBJ ran in the New Hampshire primary, getting 49 percent of the vote. But McCarthy shocked everyone and got 43 percent. Johnson knew he was done. Then, in a move that would be inconceivable today, Bobby Kennedy announced on March 16th, just five months before the convention in Chicago, that he was running for president. And two days later RFK lands in one of the lest likely places a brand new presidential candidate could go right out of the gate, Manhattan, Kansas.

It wasn’t a mistake or bad staff work that Bobby started his campaign in Ahearn Field House on the K-State campus. He had already agreed to do a Landon Lecture, the series is venerable now but only a couple of years old in 1968. It was titled “Conflict in Vietnam and at Home.”

He would make a day of it Kansas, addressing a packed Allen Fieldhouse at KU and making a stop at Haskell Indian Institute, as it was known at the time. Kennedy would talk about very serious topics and we’ll get to the politics behind his trip, but who introduced him at K-State is important. 

Bobby was introduced by Republican Sen. Jim Pearson. Also on hand was Democratic Gov. Robert Docking. A presidential candidate was in the state and back then, that called for a little bi-partianship.

But most everyone wanted to hear RFK speak about Vietnam. That was the reason he was in the race and LBJ was on his way out. Here’s part of what he had to say at K-State:

“I do not want – as I believe most Americans do not want – to sell out American interests, to simply withdraw, to raise the white flag of surrender. That would be unacceptable to us as a country and as a people. But I am concerned – as I believe most Americans are concerned – that the course we are following at the present time is deeply wrong. I am concerned – as I believe most Americans are concerned – that we are acting as if no other nations existed, against the judgment and desires of neutrals and our historic allies alike. I am concerned – as I believe most Americans are concerned – that our present course will not bring victory; will not bring peace; will not stop the bloodshed; and will not advance the interests of the United States or the cause of peace in the world. I am concerned that, at the end of it all, there will only be more Americans killed; more of our treasure spilled out; and because of the bitterness and hatred on every side of this war, more hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese slaughtered; so that they may say, as Tacitus said of Rome: 'They made a desert, and called it peace.'"

Kennedy would make some of the same remarks in Lawrence, where they let kids out of school to attend the speech. But he also talked about other issues, issues that we still hear about today. Here he is in Allen Fieldhouse:

“And if we seem powerless to stop this growing division between Americans, who at least confront one another, there are millions more living in the hidden places, whose names and faces are completely unknown but I have seen these other Americans. I have seen children in Mississippi starving, their bodies so crippled from hunger and their minds have been so destroyed for their whole life that they will have no future.

I have seen children in Mississippi here in the United States with a gross national product of $800 billion dollars I have seen children in the Delta area of Mississippi with distended stomachs, whose faces are covered with sores from starvation, and we haven't developed a policy so we can get enough food so that they can live, so that their children, so that their lives are not destroyed, I don't think that's acceptable in the United States of America and I think we need a change. I have seen Indians living on their bare and meager reservations, with no jobs, with an unemployment rate of 80 percent, and with so little hope for them future, so little hope for the future that for young people, for young men and women in their teens, the greatest cause of death amongst them is suicide.”

If you read or listen to either of Robert Kennedy’s speeches in Kansas on March 18th, 1968, you’ll be struck by how the themes resonate today. But you’ll also be struck by the writing: it’s both clear and scholarly. Sometimes he even sounds like his brother. This is a passage from his K-State speech. It comes pretty early and he’s just starting to talk about Vietnam:

“Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live. Now as ever, we do ourselves best justice when we measure ourselves against ancient tests.” Kennedy goes go to quote the Greek play, the Antigone of Sophocles: "All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong, and repairs the evil. The only sin is pride'."

Our theme music is used in this episode is Shy Touches by Nameless Dancers. The other music used in this episode is Slow Motion Strut Version Two by Dexter Britain, and What is Whispered in Your Ear Proclaim It From The Rooftops by James Joshua Otto. Both have been edited.

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TV, The Triple Play, and the Man from Dodge

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TV, The Triple Play, and the Man from Dodge

By: Sam Zeff and Matt Hodapp

I want to tell you about a scandal. It's the only scandal in the history of the Kansas court system. It’s the story of an ambitious politician that tainted both the governorship and the state’s highest court.

The story starts on September 23, 1952 at the El Capitan Theatre in Los Angeles. There Richard Nixon would deliver his famous “Checkers” speech.

At the time he had just been nominated as Dwight Eisenhower’s running mate, but the press got wind of a secret fund Nixon’s supporters created for him to pay political expenses. Not surprisingly, charges of improprieties surfaced followed by calls for him to resign from the ticket.

So, Nixon did something that’s never been done, he went directly to the people on television.

Going straight to the people seems so easy now, YouTube, Instagram, Twitter. But 60 years ago it was unheard of to go around the media was revolutionary. 

We can’t know for sure, but it’s a pretty good bet that a 36 year old Dodge City Republican name Fred Lee Hall was watching.

The night of the Nixon speech, Hall was Kansas Lieutenant Governor. Hall was ambitious, but unpopular among the GOP elite in Kansas. He would go on to be elected governor, but find himself on the outskirts of the party. 

Hall, like Nixon, would go directly to the people on TV, and he would change politics and the legal system in Kansas in a way we that we are still feeling right this minute.

There’s two things that strike people about Fred Hall. First, there’s a bit of Bernie Sanders in his politics, he’s way more liberal than most Republicans in Kansas at the time. He was for pumping more money into public education and prisons. And, he was pro union. While most Republicans in the state weren’t as conservative as they are now, they certainly were not pro union. That, more than anything, would drive the Fred Hall story.

After two terms as Lieutenant Governor, he won the Republican nomination for governor in 1954, albeit with little enthusiasm from the party. It was pretty clear the GOP wouldn't tolerate another Hall term in 1956, and that was especially true after he battled the Legislature. 

In 1956, he had a tough GOP primary ahead, and without party backing he did what virtually no politician had done before; he went on television to speak directly to the people. 

The first of his 30 minute television specials aired in January, 1956. These half hour shows aired on WIBW in Topeka, KAKE in Wichita, and WDAF in Kansas City. And the TV shows may have added to Hall’s trouble with the party.

In one show, he talked about pumping more money into prisons. He wanted to not just incarcerate people but try to rehabilitate them with education and psychological help. In another, he went on about how important public schools are, and how Kansas not only needed more teachers but to pay them more money. And in all of them, he talked about the cabal of men running the state and how he was elected to “throw the rascals out”.

But nothing helped, Hall became the only sitting governor in Kansas history to lose the Republican primary. He was the lamest of lame ducks. But Hall wasn't done. He had a reputation for being aggressive and pugnacious. But nobody could have predicted his next move.

His next move was a conspiracy that was both sleazy and genius. Fred Hall had no plans to move back to Dodge City as a loser, as a one-term governor. He concocted the only judicial scandal in Kansas history. It even has a cool name: the Triple Play. 

In addition to Hall, there were two other actors in the Triple Play. First, there was the chief justice of the Kansas Supreme Court, William Smith, a long time Republican party stalwart. Remember, Kansas was electing judges back then.

How long had Smith been a player in GOP politics? Remember the Archiver episode on John Brinkley, the goat gland doctors who ran a write-in campaign for governor in 1930? Well, many believed Brinkley might have won had not so many ballots been disallowed. The man in charge of deciding which ballots were legal? William Smith, who was state attorney general at the time. 

The other player was Lt. Governor John McCuish. He was a newspaperman by trade, he owned the Harvey County Times in his hometown of Newton. 

So, here’s the triple play: 

On December 31st, 1956, Smith sent a letter to the Secretary of State resigning as Chief Justice. Smith was ill and wanted to resign, but being a good Republican, he didn’t want to quit and let the newly elected Democratic Governor George Docking pick his replacement. Then on January 3, 1957 Hall sent a similar letter, quitting just 11 days before his term ended. McCuish was in the hospital in Newton and Hall dispatched a Highway Patrolman to bring him back to Topeka. McCuish was automatically elevated to Governor and he immediately appointed Hall to the state’s highest court and The Triple Play was done. Hall was on the supreme court where he hoped to launch a future bid for governor.

But Kansas wasn’t used to that kind of back room deal and the backlash was immediate and severe. This is what the Kansas City Times had to say in January 1957, The headline was “A Brazen, Raw Deal for Kansas Justice”: 

“The deal was cloaked in deepest secrecy. This indicated the participants were fearful of public reaction and did not believe it could stand the light of day. Involved was not merely a political appointment. It was an appointment to the highest court in the state.”

In the 1957 session, the Legislature would pass a constitutional amendment requiring justices to be chosen with a merit system. The next year, the amendment passed with 70 percent of the vote. And everyone was happy at least until a few years ago.

Fred Hall had no way of knowing that The Triple Play would directly affect one of the hottest issues in Kansas politics today, how the state funds public education. 

Up until the 1990's, nobody thought much about how Kansas picked supreme court justices and judges for the court of appeals. Except for The Triple Play, there had never been a scandal, Kansas courts generally had a good reputation. But, in 1992, a lawsuit now known as Montoy v. Kansas was filed alleging the state wasn’t putting enough money in the school system and that violated article six of the state constitution.

The case gets to the supreme court and the justices agree, Kansas lawmakers needed to find more money for schools. The state also lost a case called Gannon, the case that is now causing conservatives in the Legislature and Governor Brownback to desperately want to dump the merit system that was born from the triple play.

For all the turmoil and trouble Fred Hall would cause, his stint on the Kansas political stage was pretty brief. He spent just two years as a justice, resigning in 1958 to make another run at the Republican nomination for governor, where he was trounced by 60 points by Clyde Reed, Junior who spent most of his life as the editor of the Parsons Sun.

Hall would go on to a successful career as a lawyer in California in the booming aeronautics business. He eventually returned to Dodge to practice law. But in his fairly brief political career he introduced television to Kansas politics and a scandal to the court system. He would be responsible for radically changing the way judges are picked and for the political battle over the same thing today.

Hall died in 1970. He was only 53.

Our theme music is used in this episode is Shy Touches by Nameless Dancers. Other music used in this episode is Ladybirds Theme by David Szesztay, Cocek by The Underscore Orchestra, and Sweet Georgia Brown by Latche Swing; all three have been edited.

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Goat Glands, Radio Waves, and the Governorship

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Goat Glands, Radio Waves, and the Governorship

By: Sam Zeff and Matt Hodapp

If I were to tell you about a millionaire running for high political office that found his fame in the media, and financed himself through somewhat sketchy endeavors, a man who worked outside of the regular political channels and who seemed to be constantly battling the establishment, you would probably say, I know who that is, Donald Trump.

But long before Trump, or Ross Perot, or Michael Bloomberg for that matter, there was Dr. John R. Brinkley. The R stands for Romulus, but by the time Doc Brinkley moved to Kansas in 1916 he changed his middle name to Richard. Nobody knows why except that Doc had mightily transformed himself when he settled in tiny Milford, Kansas, about 20 miles west of Manhattan and just north of Fort Riley.

From Milford, Doc Brinkley would create a medical empire on questionable patent medicines and, of all things, goat glands. He would battle everyone from the American Medical Association to William Rockhill Nelson, the powerful editor of the Kansas City Star. And Doc, that’s what everyone called him, would perhaps have the most colorful political career of anyone in Kansas.

Doc was born in 1885 in North Carolina to a country doctor, but he was orphaned by age 10 and raised by an aunt. Not surprisingly, he bounced between just shady and criminal behavior. He and a partner opened a storefront medical clinic in North Carolina where he racked up debts he never payed. He was charged with practicing medicine without a license, and he had a failed marriage. 

Finally, he found himself at the Eclectic Medical College in Kansas City, Kansas. Eclectic med schools were private and popped up mostly in the midwest and taught the use of botanical remedies, an extension of herbal remedies. This training seems to play into exactly the kind of medicine Brinkley practiced: out on the edge but with some basis in science.

Doc never graduated from Eclectic, but it was 1916 and it really doesn’t take much to become a doctor. Brinkley then married his second wife Minnie. They set up shop in Milford and start to spread the good word about...goat glands. 

If you’ve ever been to a state fair, you might have noticed the size of the gonads on some goats. Doc figured if you transplanted those into men, virility would go through the roof. Not everyone agreed, but he certainly had a following. 

Brinkley really took off after a 1922 trip to California to do some goat gland surgery, a trip promoted by the powerful publisher of the Los Angeles Times, Harry Chandler. 

Brinkley was already a bit infamous in the medical world, but Chandler pulled some strings and landed Brinkley a 30 day license to practice in California. People seemed to think the transplanted goat glands were doing the sexual trick, and the Times promoted Doc’s business. And it’s while in L.A. that Doc toured KHJ, the Chandler radio station. 

It’s at that point that Doc apparently puts the whole scheme together in his head: medical advice broadcast over a radio station that will drive people to pharmacies to buy Doc’s remedies, and lure them to rural Kansas for a goat gland transplant that in current dollars would set you back about $10,000. 

By 1930, Doc Brinkley was rich and famous. His radio station KFKB, most believe it stands for Kansas First, Kansas Best, was heard over a wide swath of the country. But he had also made powerful enemies. The American Medical Association was after him as well as the Kansas City Star and Emporia Gazette, both had national influence at the time.

With opponents closing in from all sides Doc Brinkley made a huge decision. He decided he wasn't going to flee, but he was going to run...for Kansas governor. 

Doc got in late and had to run a write-in campaign. It was a close election, much closer than it should be for a candidate who got in so late and wasn’t even on the ballot. Doc got about 30 percent of the vote, losing to Harry Hines Woodring, who would become Franklin Roosevelt’s secretary of war.

Doc ran for Kansas governor two more times, losing as an independent against Alf Landon in 1932, again with about 30 percent of the vote and to Landon again in 1934, this time in the Republican primary. 

Brinkley ran as a populist. It was the depression, parts of Kansas were plagued by the Dust Bowl, and Doc was out there campaigning for what we would now call a social safety net.

By the 1934 campaign, Brinkley is mostly out of Kansas. He has had enough, and he moved most of his operation to Del Rio, Texas, right across the Rio Grande from Mexico. But Doc was not done in medicine or radio, and not nearly done in politics. 

Doc did for Del Rio what he did for Milford; paved the streets and brought business to town. The radio operation had become even more important since the move south. Doc not only left Kansas to get away from the medical establishment, but KFKB was also causing him headaches.

By moving the transmitter to Mexico, he escaped regulations, at least for a time, and at one point he had a million watt signal that could be heard in Kansas, Canada and, some locals say, in their dentures. By comparison, the most powerful AM radio stations in America today top out at 50,000 watts.

He was still doing medical proceeders, of course, but not as many goat gland operations and his speciality was now an early version of a vasectomy at $1,000 a pop. By the late 30's, his obsession with FDR was growing as was his isolationist views.

Brinkley's anti-Roosevelt broadcasts dominated Doc’s radio appearances, and did so as World War II breaks out in Europe and the isolationists in America fought any notion that the U.S. should get involved. Those views fade after Pearl Harbor as does the whole Brinkley empire.

He mounted a run for senate from Texas in 1941 after an incumbant dies, but it didn't go anywhere. The American Medical Association went after him again, as did the US State Department and the IRS. He’s charged with mail fraud by the Post Office.

By 1941, after a disastrous venture in Arkansas he went bankrupt, had three heart attacks and died pennieless in 1942. He was 57 years old.

There’s really no John R. Brinkley legacy, just a tragic end. The mansion in Del Rio is a historic site, but that’s about it. 

His son, Johnny Boy, gave an interview about his father in the middle 70's for a documentary film, but he killed himself a few months later.

Doc’s goat gland procedure for male sexual virility is just another thing in a long line of things men do for sexual virility. 

But if there is a legacy, maybe it’s a political one. It’s hard to know how much of Doc’s politics were simply aimed at protecting a million dollar business. Did Milford, Kansas make him a populist or was populism just a craven attempt at high political office? Was he truly an isolationist with an anti-Semitic bent or did he think that’s what his huge radio audience wanted to hear?

We’ll never really know, but William Allen White had something to say about it. Here’s what he wrote in the Emporia Gazette after White learned Doc was vying for that Texas senate seat. 

This appeared in May 15th, 1941 editions:

“He will appeal to the hill billy mind as It has never been lured before. He is Irresistible to the moron mind and Texas has plenty of such. Perhaps that is unfair. Very likely Texas has no more morons than Kansas. So while pointing with pride to the fact that Kansas escaped the doctor's clutches, we view with alarm for the United States the danger which Impends in Texas. If this republic ever totters to its fall it will be because the moron minority shall sometime, somewhere, somehow, gain a party majority by unscrupulous leadership."

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Our theme music used in this episode is Shy Touches by Nameless Dancers .

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