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It's late summer 1930 in Shattuck, Oklahoma. George Ehrlich is driving his truck down the long, dusty road that leads from his farm into town. Usually, the journey takes about 10 minutes. But today, Ehrlich is driving slowly so he can admire the landscape as it rolls past his window.
Thirty years ago, when immigrants like Ehrlich's family first arrived in Oklahoma, there was nothing here but an endless expanse of tall grass. These days, practically every inch of this land is now covered in wheat fields, including 160 acres that Ehrlich now owns himself. Running a farm has been a huge source of pride for Ehrlich. Back in Russia, his family owned almost nothing. But here in America, Ehrlich has been able to provide for nine children, making sure their stomachs are full and the house is warm.
And today, Ehrlich is planning to cash in on another season's worth of hard work. He's driving his wheat harvest to the grain elevator, where he's hoping to receive a decent payout and take home enough money to keep his family comfortable through the winter. But Ehrlich is also feeling a bit nervous. It's been several months since the stock market crashed, sending the entire country into a depression. All over America, people are struggling.
So far, Ehrlich and his neighbors have been spared the worst of it, because while the price of wheat has been declining, the farmers have been able to make up for it by growing crops in record amounts. So Ehrlich is hopeful he'll be able to keep weathering the economic storm in America. And while the operators at the grain elevator might offer him a low price for his harvest, it should still be enough to keep him and his family afloat.
Ehrlich turns onto the paved road leading into town and toward the grain elevators, giant concrete cylinders that rise from the earth, casting long shadows across the prairie. But a moment later, he spots a truck driving away from the granary and notices that the back of the vehicle is still entirely full of wheat. That's not a good sign. But Ehrlich isn't going to jump to any conclusions, so he parks his truck and makes his way to the small storefront at the entrance of the granary.
But as soon as he steps inside, one of the operators shoots him a scornful look. Oh, you can stop right there. We're not accepting it this time. What do you mean you're not accepting it?
What's the problem? The problem is we've got more than enough. Elevators are already overflowing. Well, okay, I'll come back tomorrow. No, not tomorrow or the next day. I'm sorry, I'm at a loss here. Grain comes in and it goes out. That's the business. How can you not be buying? We're not buying because there's not a market for it. There's always a market for wheat. Not right now, there's not.
Ehrlich looks down, trying to think through his options. He can't afford to walk away empty-handed. Hey, look, I know times are tough. I read the papers. I know what's going on in the country, but I'm begging you, even if it's a low price, I'll take it. Sir, I don't think you heard me. We are not buying. And if you've got a problem with that, you can take it out with my friend over here. The operator gestures to a guard, leaning against the wall with a rifle.
Ehrlich isn't going to start a confrontation with an armed man. But he can't afford this, so he begins to beg, pleading his case, reminding the grain operator that he's been selling here for years. But the operator says the conversation is over and signals for the guard to escort Ehrlich out. Ehrlich hangs his head in frustration. It doesn't look like he's going to be able to win this man over. And he's not going to risk getting himself hurt either. Ehrlich is just going to have to accept that he's not selling his harvest, at least not here.
At the same time, he can't let his wheat sit around forever. At some point, it'll go bad and begin to rot. So Ehrlich is going to have to try again at another market. After all, ever since the stock market crash, people have been starving in America. And where there's a demand for a product, there has to be a market for it.
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From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. In the early 1900s, Americans flocked to the southern Great Plains, lured by the promise that they could make a fortune in farming.
The region includes portions of Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Kansas, and Colorado. And before the farmers arrived, it was home to sweeping grasslands across hundreds of thousands of square miles. The area had long been known for its extreme weather, including long stretches of drought. And many had deemed it unfit for agriculture. But despite those warnings, government officials, land speculators, and others encouraged the settlers to take up the plow and plant crops.
And with the outbreak of the First World War, the southern Great Plains transformed into one of the most important centers of agriculture in the world. America's farmers tore up the native grassland at a frenzied pace in order to grow the wheat that would feed America's allies in Europe.
But life on the plains would take a turn in October of 1929. With the crash of America's stock market, the country faced an unprecedented economic downturn. Within a month, the market lost about 40% of its value. Businesses failed and people lost their jobs. And by the summer of 1930, many Americans were left unable to pay for groceries and had begun to starve.
But still, the nation had a surplus of wheat. The drop in consumer demand led to a collapse in grain prices, and farmers tried to make up for it by growing more and more crops. State leaders pleaded with the federal government to buy this surplus grain and distribute it to the poor. But when President Herbert Hoover refused to intervene, Americans continued to starve, even as farmers were left with only one option, to keep planting crops. This is Episode 2, If It Rains.
It's December 12, 1930, in Washington, D.C. In an office inside the White House, an aide to President Herbert Hoover is working at his desk when he's handed a telegram from the governor of Virginia. According to John Garland Pollard, a dire situation is unfolding across his state. The people in Virginia are unemployed, destitute, and going hungry. They need immediate assistance before winter arrives, and the governor is calling on President Hoover to do something to ease their suffering.
The aide sets down the telegram. It's heartbreaking to read that people are going hungry in Virginia. But recently, the White House has been getting hammered with these kinds of messages. Elected leaders from around the country are imploring Washington to address the hunger crisis in America. Congress has gone back and forth, debating measures to provide food relief. But President Hoover has been reluctant to address the problem directly.
The president is worried that these kinds of programs function as handouts and that they'll undermine what he believes to be America's greatest virtue, the fierce individualism and self-reliance of its people. Hoover's political philosophy hasn't been widely popular. And now there's a growing sentiment that Republicans, Hoover's own party, are responsible for the country's economic collapse. Just last month, the GOP lost dozens of seats in the midterm elections.
So for Hoover, standing on the sidelines while regular Americans go hungry is proving to be politically disastrous. But this letter from the governor of Virginia could offer a smart path forward. In the telegram, Virginia's governor notes that farmers have produced a surplus of wheat, and he's proposing that the federal government help distribute this surplus to starving Americans. It's a sensible plan, so the aide heads to the Oval Office to talk it through with President Hoover.
When he arrives, he finds the president sitting at his desk, absorbed in a newspaper. Hoover looks cross and complains about the coverage in the papers, saying it's only stoking more panic in the markets. It's giving the American people the impression that the White House has lost control of the economy. The aide tells Hoover that, unfortunately, he has even more bad news, but also an idea that might help.
The aide hands the president the telegram from the governor of Virginia. And when Hoover finishes reading, he says he knows he could score political points carrying out the governor's proposal. But Hoover says his decision isn't about politics. It's about principle. And while Hoover understands he's facing public pressure to cave, he doesn't believe the government should interfere with the market and redistribute commodities. That would only exacerbate the problem.
So instead, Hoover argues that non-governmental organizations like the Red Cross should be the ones handling the crisis. Hoover believes they are in a better position to provide food relief to needy Americans. The aide nods. He knows Hoover has a lot of faith in the Red Cross. But if that faith proves to be misguided, more and more Americans are going to go hungry. And out in the countryside, farmers are going to be forced to take desperate measures.
With the Great Depression ravaging the American economy and President Hoover unwilling to meddle in the markets, farmers in the Great Plains struggle to stay afloat. Wheat prices continue to collapse. And in the Southern Plains, farmers are left with few good options other than to keep turning over the native grassland and plant more crops than ever before.
By 1931, about 33 million acres have been converted to agriculture in the southern plains. That leads to a record year, with American farmers producing 250 million bushels of wheat. But as agriculture becomes increasingly unprofitable, some farmers simply give up and walk away from their land. That's especially the case for the so-called suitcase farmers who'd swept into the plains looking to plant some crops, head out of town, and then return the following year for a payout.
As the price of wheat continues to fall, many of these suitcase farmers never come back to their properties. And instead, they leave the land barren and exposed to the sun and wind. For some of the longtime residents of the Plains, the sites of these derelict farms is concerning. One of those residents, a woman named Hazel Lucas Shaw, had moved to the southern Plains in 1914 when she was just a child. Her family was lured by the opportunity to homestead the land and claimed their own slice of the Oklahoma panhandle.
That day, when the family first arrived, Shaw was struck by the vast and stark landscape. The plains were completely empty and flat, with brown grasses extending as far as the eye could see. For Shaw's family, life wasn't easy. On the plains, there were floods and fires. And for a while, the family had to live just like everyone else, taking up residence in a sod dugout, walls made of prairie grass built directly into the soil.
But Shaw's father worked hard, plowing up the land and growing wheat and corn. And eventually, he saved up enough money to build a real house made of lumber. The family wouldn't have to fall asleep worrying about snakes and centipedes crawling in through the walls. But then one day, when the house was under construction, the winds came along. They were so strong, they ended up carrying away the entire structure, while the family stood watching helplessly from their old dugout.
But that's just how things were on the plains. Still, Shaw built a good life for herself. She took up work as a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse. And for a short time, she and her husband tried living in Cincinnati, but it wasn't long before they were drawn back to Oklahoma. That day when Shaw stepped off the train, she looked out at the vast open horizon and breathed in the sweet smell of freshly cut wheat. She realized that this is what it felt like to be home.
Which is why it hurts now to see so much neglected farmland across the plains. Enormous plots that have been abandoned and left to go fallow. Shaw knows the Depression has taken a toll on farmers, but she has trouble understanding how people could just give up.
One afternoon, Shaw is driving through the countryside alongside her mother, Dee. Shaw turns the steering wheel and looks out the window. I hate seeing it, man. Crops should have been planted by now. Should have been. But those fields, they belong to some suitcase farmer and never came back. None of those guys ever return after the price a week told them. It's shameful. How could someone just walk away like that? I agree, Hazel, but that's life.
Owning that property means getting to do what you want with it. It doesn't matter if it's right or wrong. But they could have sold it to someone else. Someone could have found some use for it. Now, with the state of things now, who in their right mind would buy any of this land? I suppose you're right. Just sad to see the fields so bare like that. Hazel's mother frowns. No, it's worse than sad. It's a menace. You remember how your daddy used to put mulch on the fields in springtime? That's how you protect the ground to keep the soil in place. But these people are leaving. They don't tend their land.
And when they don't lay down anything to protect the soil, we got a problem. The heat's drying out the fields and the spring winds have started carrying the dirt all over the place. It's just going to keep getting worse. Well, someone's got to do something about it. Well, the only one who can is the government. We know they're not going to step in. Shaw grips the wheel as she turns down the dirt road leading back to her farm.
Shaw is an inveterate optimist, but as much as she hates to admit it, her mother is right. Their family and all the rest of the farmers in the southern plains are powerless to change the situation. President Hoover isn't willing to do much to steady the price of wheat, and if the suitcase farmers aren't able to turn a profit, they're not going to stick around, even if that means creating a growing mess for someone else to clean up. The warning signs of an ecological disaster in the southern plains had been mounting for years.
Americans streamed into a region that some had warned was never fit for agriculture. They tilled up the native grasslands, leaving millions of acres exposed to the harsh local climate. And when the markets crashed, many walked away from their land, allowing nature to run its course. But the consequences of this collective decision are not yet apparent late in 1931, when the country's attention is still focused on the economy.
Despite the collapse in wheat prices, many in the southern plains have been spared the worst effects of the Great Depression. For nearly 20 months, there have been no bread lines, no bank runs, and unemployment has remained relatively low. And because the farmers invest in their fields and not in the stock market, they assume their lives will remain stable. But that changes in the summer of 1931. On June 27th in Dalhart, Texas, Sheriff Harvey Faust is sitting in his office with his head on his desk.
It's not even noon, but already the sheriff is drunk. Recently, things have been getting bad in the Texas panhandle. And the worse everything gets, the earlier the sheriff finds himself reaching for his flask. The sheriff is dozing, half awake, when there's a loud banging on his office door. Faust peels his face off the desk and rubs his eyes. And when he opens the door, he finds a crowd of angry locals. Faust wasn't expecting this. He asks what's going on.
A lank man with denim overalls and sunburned skin says the sheriff has to do something about the bank. It's business hours, but the shades are drawn and there's a sign in the window saying the bank is insolvent. This news hits the sheriff like a splash of cold water. He's read that this is happening in other parts of the country, banks shutting down and people losing their life savings. And the worst part is, there's nothing anyone can do about it.
So the sheriff has to figure out some way to pacify this furious crowd. But before he can even formulate a thought, the man in the denim overalls demands that law enforcement take action. The people want their money, he says. They want the sheriff to go get it, even if that means knocking down the front door of the bank.
Faust sighs and says that wouldn't do much good. The owners of the bank probably used customers' deposits to make investments, then lost everything when the market crashed. So if the bank is saying it's insolvent, then you have to take them at their word. The money is gone. The crowd begins jeering, pointing at the sheriff, demanding that he do something. But the sheriff says he's sorry. This is a matter for the federal government, not something for local law enforcement.
But that only further inflames the crowd. They shout, accusing the sheriff of letting them get robbed. And before he can stop them, they turn away and begin marching toward the bank. Faust and his fellow deputies are going to do whatever they can to maintain the peace. But he meant what he told the crowd. There's not much local law enforcement can do to fix the situation.
the federal government and the president are going to have to stop dragging their heels and address this economic crisis. Otherwise, life in the panhandle is going to grow even more trouble, and the people in the southern plains may be inclined to take even more desperate measures.
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Hire high-quality, certified pros at Angie.com. Throughout 1931, the Great Depression continues to occupy the nation's attention. Nearly 2,300 banks collapse in the United States. Over 28,000 businesses fail. And across the country, about 16% of Americans fall into unemployment. But in the Southern Plains, a different kind of crisis begins to emerge.
1931 marks the beginning of an extreme drought that will last for eight years. The sun beats down on the prairie and the heat is relentless. And as high winds whip across the landscape, the region experiences the beginning of a man-made climate disaster that in the years to come will take thousands of lives and force hundreds of thousands to flee their homes. One day, outside Boyce City, Oklahoma, the crisis emerges in dramatic fashion.
It's April of 1932, and Hazel Lucas Shaw is standing in front of her class at the New Hope School, leading a lesson. "Alright everyone, copy this down into your notebooks." Shaw heads to the chalkboard and writes a few lines. But when she turns back to the class, she notices that one of the boys looks distracted, staring out the window. "Alright, let's bring our attention back up front. Talk about the conclusion we can draw from this chapter."
But the boy remains staring out the window, looking troubled. All right, everyone, let's all bring our attention back up front, please. But as Shaw stands waiting, a few other students turn and look out the window also. One of them raises her hand. Miss Shaw, I think you should see this. It looks dangerous. What are you talking about? What looks dangerous? You have to look at the sky.
Shaw sits down her chalk and heads to the window. It's probably just another dark thunderstorm with some strong winds and hail. It'll be a noisy distraction, but around here the weather always passes. But when Shaw looks out at the horizon, she sees an enormous black cloud approaching, blotting out the sky. The storm is moving fast. And as Shaw stares at it, suddenly debris begins slamming against the windows. At first, it sounds like someone's firing a rifle at me.
Then the glass shatters as dirt comes streaming in with the wind, blinding the children and covering everything in dust.
Shaw cries out, ordering her students to get under their desks. And as they drop to the floor, many of them begin crying in fear and pain. The dust streams across their faces, scraping their skin and turning their tears into mud. Students begin to hack out agonizing coughs, while others yell at each other to look out for shards of broken glass. It's a terrifying ordeal, but a minute later the storm passes and an eerie calm returns to the classroom.
Shaw wipes the dirt from her face and surveys the damage. The students look shell-shocked and dazed, and although she feels badly shaken, Shaw tries to remain poised and tells the children it's all okay. Everyone is safe, and everyone is going to be all right. The dust storm that shatters windows in Boy City, Oklahoma, is one of 14 dramatic storms that strike in the Southern Plains in 1932.
The first major storm in January appeared outside Amarillo, Texas, and moved north across the state's panhandle before passing through Oklahoma, Kansas, and Colorado. Those who witnessed the event weren't sure what to make of it. It moved differently from a tornado, and it was darker than a typical thunderstorm. So at first, people thought it was a freak event. But as the year goes on, these dusters become a regular occurrence.
Winds as fast as 50 miles an hour are blowing through abandoned farms, lifting up the dry soil and carrying it across state lines. The storms are so dense that they can cast a veil over the sun, blocking out all light. And as the dust storms continue and grain prices remain depressed, some longtime residents begin to wonder whether it's time to join the suitcase farmers and walk away.
It's a question that Hazel Lucas Shaw takes up with her uncle, Cece, one day in the fall of 1932. When Hazel steps into her uncle's house in Boy City, she finds the longtime farmer staring off into the distance, apparently in a dark mood.
Hazel tries to be gentle, asking Cece what's on his mind, but her uncle sighs and announces he's done. He's not planting any crops this season. He doesn't know what the point is anymore. Plains are in drought, and even if they weren't, who would possibly buy the harvest? Then Cece suddenly falls into a fit of coughing. Hazel hands him a handkerchief, but when he returns it, it's soiled with dust he's coughed up.
Cece apologizes and remarks that things have gotten bad. People used to say the planes were paradise. Now these dust storms are making the planes look like it's end times. Cece doesn't see things getting much better anytime soon. But Hazel has always chosen to see the bright side. She's just not fit for doom and gloom.
So she tells her uncle that as bad as things have gotten, she thinks it's about to change. Hazel believes Franklin Delano Roosevelt is going to win the election in November. And when he does, he's going to turn the country around, and life in the Plains is going to get back to normal. Hazel's uncle Cece acknowledges Roosevelt might be a better politician than Hoover. But he's not God. He can't make rain fall from the sky or stop these new dust storms from ravaging the land.
Still, Hazel encourages her uncle to keep the faith. She has to believe that the worst times are now behind them. But even as the words come out of her mouth, they feel hollow. Hazel has seen the way the drought has shriveled up their garden, how the dust storms have buried their pasturage under sand. They've been feeding the animals with tumbleweeds, and their dairy cows are starving. But even still, she tries to push away these dreary thoughts and focus on the good that might be just around the corner.
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Some residents of the Great Plains, like Hazel Lucas Shaw, had clung to the hope that life would improve, that the rain would return, and the blinding dust storms would become a relic of the past. But with drought still gripping the region, and millions of acres of dry topsoil exposed to the winds, the storms only grow worse throughout the early 1930s.
In 1933, there are severe dust storms on 70 separate days. They're strong enough to blow out windows in people's homes and short the electricity in their cars. And beginning in March of 1935, dust storms pummel the region for 30 consecutive days. All across the plains, these storms become more than just a nuisance. The region increasingly begins to resemble an arid desert.
Soil piles up beside people's houses, creating dunes up to four feet tall. Every day, men and women have to shovel dirt off their cars, the same way people in winter might shovel away snow. But on bad days, people don't risk going outside at all. The air is so polluted with dirt, they're afraid they'll get lost in the haze or choke to death.
Still, staying inside isn't much better. With fierce winds blowing, fine particles of dust come creeping through any crack in the walls, coating everything in sight. People try to adapt, covering their windows with sheets and blankets soaked in water to better absorb the dust. They tape their doors shut and stuff newspapers into the cracks in the walls. And when they do venture outside, residents try to protect themselves by smearing Vaseline under their noses and wearing masks.
But those are only half measures, and they don't stop people in the plains from inhaling dirt. This chronic exposure to polluted air creates a new deadly phenomenon known as dust pneumonia, a condition that one doctor begins to see more and more in his patients in Guymon, Oklahoma.
One afternoon in the mid-1930s, Dr. John H. Blue is walking down a bright hallway inside a public school where the Red Cross has set up an emergency hospital. It's a sunny day outside, but Dr. Blue is unable to see through any of the windows. They're all covered with cloth meant to prevent dust from blowing inside.
But these coverings don't appear to be doing much good. As the doctor looks down the hallway, he can see that the floor is coated in dust. He also notices a set of footprints leading to a window where a nurse is pinning up another bed sheet. This is a far cry from a proper medical establishment, but it's all they've been able to manage given the current conditions here in the southern plains.
The Red Cross has opened several hospitals just like this one. And for doctors like John Blue, the most immediate task is to address a medical crisis now striking the region. The hospital is overflowing with patients suffering from respiratory-related illnesses. People's ailments appear to be caused by breathing in dirty air, the result of these near-constant dust storms that have transformed the planes.
Dr. Blue wants to help his patients, but he's now waging a fight against larger forces of nature, and many who take up beds in this makeshift hospital are too far along to save. Still, Dr. Blue has to try. So as he walks past a long row of hospital beds, he stops at one patient who can't stop coughing. He's a young man who otherwise looks healthy, but as Dr. Blue reviews the patient's file, he can see the man's not doing well. Well, son...
How are you doing today? I haven't been able to stop coughing. Any aches or pains? Yeah, plenty. I feel it in my chest and my arms and legs. I just can't breathe. Well, you mind if I take a closer look? Yeah, whatever you can do to help. All right, then. Go ahead and open your mouth, please. Dr. Blue grabs a small flashlight and peers into the patient's throat.
He doesn't like what he sees. Well, son, if I can be blunt, I prefer it doesn't take an expert to see. The back of your mouth, your throat, it's all covered in dirt. That explains it, doesn't it? Likely does. Tell me, what do you do for work? I'm a farmhand. Spend my days out in the fields. Well, son, being out there while the dust blows, that's what's causing you all these symptoms. It's getting in your lungs.
The patient gives a weary nod, but doesn't look entirely convinced. But what about everything else? I get stomach aches, my chest hurts, can't keep my food down. Well, that's because, from what I understand, this dust doesn't only affect the respiratory system. The nervous and circulatory systems, as well as the digestive organs, the kidneys, the liver, they're all affected. So just about everything, then. Well, Doc, I guess it's my turn to be blunt with you. Tell me, am I going to die? Well, I don't know, son, but I'll do everything in my power to help.
The young man nods solemnly, and Dr. Blue tries to put on a brave face. Most of the patients he's lost are infants, children, or the elderly. But this young man's symptoms are fairly far along. It's anyone's guess whether his body is healthy enough to mount a successful response. And tragically, within just 24 hours, Dr. Blue's patient does succumb to his illness and passes away.
Dr. Blue somberly notes the young man's information in a report he's working on for a medical association. Like others the doctor has treated for dust pneumonia, he seemed to be showing signs of silicosis, which is traditionally a coal miner's disease spurred on by decades spent working underground. Now Dr. Blue is seeing it in patients who've only been working outside in the fields for three years. But with dust storms continuing to ravage the southern plains, all he and other physicians can do is study the problem.
and see if they can't find some kind of solution. Throughout the mid-1930s, dust storms continue to blow across the prairie. The most extreme and persistent ones are in northeastern New Mexico, southwestern Kansas, southern Colorado, and the Texas and Oklahoma Panhandles. The Red Cross advises residents not to go outdoors unless it's absolutely necessary. And with life in the plains becoming increasingly inhospitable, a small but steady stream of people begin to flee.
Still, others remain, hoping the drought will soon end and that the coming rains will wash away their troubles. But on April 14th, 1935, the region is hit with a dust storm so large and powerful, the day comes to be known as Black Sunday. In Dallem County, Texas, teenager Melt White is standing outside his home, waiting for his family to finish getting ready for church. It's Palm Sunday, and Melt's mother insisted that he wear his best clothes for the services.
So as Melt stands, tugging at his collar, he takes in the sorry state of the family garden. Their once-promising watermelons are dying from the static electricity brought on by the storms, while their other vegetables look shriveled and desiccated. It's been a hard last three months in the Texas panhandle. There have been 49 dust storms, and it's beginning to feel like dirty air has become the rule and not the exception.
But today, the weather is actually looking pretty nice. The sky is blue and the birds are chirping. Milt doesn't even have to wear a mask and goggles while outside. And for the first time in a long while, his mother Lizzie is smiling. Because usually Milt catches her with tears in her eyes. She hates living here and makes no secret about it. But this morning, the clear skies made her so happy that she announced the family was going to spend the morning cleaning the house.
Wiping down the countertops wouldn't seem like a celebratory event for most people. But ever since the dusters first started blowing, cleaning has felt like an exercise of futility. Why sweep up when the dust is just going to blow right on in again?
But today, Melt's mother seems to be feeling hopeful about the future. And it was so nice seeing her smile that everyone was happy to pitch in. They dusted and scrubbed all 400 square feet of the family's two-room shack, and they washed all the dirt off their bedsheets. And then one by one, they hopped in a bathtub and cleaned off the weeks of soil that had grown caked on their skin.
Melt feels good to be clean with a cool breeze blowing through his hair. But as he walks across the front yard, he notices a large flock of birds racing across the sky. Behind them, a strange swarm of insects. When Melt turns south, he notices a streak of black moving quickly across the sky.
The approaching storm is towering. It appears to be nearly a mile high from top to bottom. So Melt runs into the house and tells his father, Bam, that they're probably not going to be able to make it to church today. Melt's mother and father race to soak the bedsheets in water before tacking them to the windows. Then Lizzie hands Melt a hand-sewn mask to tie over his face. The material is thick and scratches his skin, but Melt knows it helps and secures it tightly to his head before hiding under the table with his sister.
Through the windows, melt watches, the sunlight start to fade, and the storm becomes audible. It begins as a crackle, and then starts walloping their tar paper roof, sounding like a tree has fallen on their home.
Suddenly, Melt's father, Bam, cries out in pain, holding his knee. From under the table, Melt can see what happened. His father got too close to the stove, and the static electricity from the storm sent a shock through his body. Melt is nowhere near the stove, but he still tries to make himself smaller, burying his head in his chest.
And for what feels like an eternity, Melt's family sits listening in silence, waiting and praying for the storm to pass. Finally, the thundering roar does begin to fade away. As sunlight slowly filters back inside, Melt looks over at his mother to see if she's okay. But he knows she isn't. Her smile from earlier today has long since disappeared, replaced by sorrow and tears. And then, between sobs, Lizzie announces that she can't stand this anymore.
It's time to leave, and she doesn't care where they go. They just have to get away from these dust storms and find somewhere that's safe for the family. From Wondery, this is Episode 2 of the Dust Bowl for American Scandal. In our next episode, President Roosevelt carries out an ambitious plan to address the dust storms. But facing political challenges, Roosevelt's administration must launch a campaign to win over the public.
If you'd like to learn more about The Dust Bowl, we recommend the book The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan and The Dust Bowl, a documentary film by Ken Burns airing on PBS. This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details. And while in most cases we can't know exactly what was said, all our dramatizations are based on historical research. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga.
Sound design by Molly Bond. Music editing by Katrina Zemrack. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by Vanessa Gomez. Edited by Emma Cortland. Produced by Andy Herman. Fact-checking by Alyssa Jung Perry. Our senior producer is Gabe Riven. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer Beckman, and Marsha Louis for Wondery. Was there a crime committed?
As far as I'm concerned, there wasn't. Guilty by Design dives into the wild story of Alexander and Frank, interior designers who in the 80s landed the jackpot of all clients. We went to bed one night and the next morning we woke up as one of the most wanted people in the United States. What are they guilty of? You can listen to Guilty by Design exclusively and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.
