The Dust Bowl | When the Dust Settles | 3
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It's early 1933 in Washington, D.C. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt is sitting in the Oval Office reading through a report about soil ecology. It's dense and full of scientific jargon, but Roosevelt is convinced that understanding it is essential for addressing an emerging crisis.

It's been one month since Roosevelt took office. And in that short time, he's worked tirelessly to address America's most urgent problems stemming from the continuing economic depression. Roosevelt's New Deal legislation has helped stabilize the banking system. It's provided emergency relief to states badly in need. And new government initiatives have created jobs for thousands of unemployed Americans. But there's one problem the president has no idea how to fix, and it's weighed heavily on his mind.

Over the last two years, the southern plains have been ravaged by an escalating series of dust storms. These events have transformed the region, damaging property, causing deaths, and forcing countless farmers to flee their land. Many of the country's top scientists say that these dusters are a result of drought. And since there's no public policy that can change the weather, they say the best course of action would be to abandon the plains and resettle farmers in other parts of the country.

But a soil scientist named Hugh Bennett has a different theory. Bennett believes that while the region's weather is part of the problem, the dust storms are likely the consequence of man-made decisions. So President Roosevelt invited Bennett to the White House to discuss these ideas. Because if Bennett is right, if humans caused this growing crisis, then maybe Roosevelt can do something to undo the damage. There's a knock on the door and Roosevelt looks up as Bennett steps into the Oval Office.

Bennett is a large man with gray hair and hooded eyelids. And as he approaches, Roosevelt sets aside the report and greets his guest. Mr. Bennett, thank you for joining me. I was just finishing my second reading of your treatise on soil erosion, and there was one idea I found especially interesting. Well, the President of the United States reading my observations about dirt, I am flattered. But what was it that stood out?

Roosevelt flips back a page. Here you make the argument that if a foreign nation had come and destroyed our land, we'd have mounted a forceful counterattack. But because many believe these dust storms are caused by nature, the government's response has been muted. Yes, sir. I believe it's easy to throw up one's hands and claim there's nothing to be done when it feels as though these are forces beyond our control. But that approach is predicated on a mistaken understanding of the science. Well, Mr. Bennett, I'm no expert, but I'm not sure I can

Despite trying my best to understand your research, so please, do explain. What have the other scientists got wrong? Well, Mr. President, the prevailing theory is that these dust storms are a consequence of the ongoing drought, right? But there's always been a drought in the plains, and there's always been wind. And yet this, this is the first time in our history that soil has lifted up off the ground and then fallen from the sky.

One has to ask, why is this happening now? And I take it you don't blame Mother Nature? No, Mr. President. My research suggests that humans bear the majority of the responsibility. We always knew the southern plains were prone to drought, and yet we still settled the region. We ripped up the native grasses at a frantic pace and exposed the soil to the winds. And for years, that was fine because the rain was falling.

and that kept the soil on the ground. But the drought was always going to return. And now that it has, we're seeing the consequences of our actions. Roosevelt gets a pensive look. Mr. Bennett, I called you here in part to understand this complex issue, and to that end, you've helped me a great deal. But I have to ask a simple question. Can the planes be saved? Well, the answer is I don't know. I don't believe you or I can make any sweeping promises. The problems facing the planes are unlike anything we've ever seen...

But there is one thing I'm certain of, and that's that we don't have to accept a vision of darkness for America's future. We can always strive to find our way back to the light. Roosevelt is troubled to hear this assessment of the situation, but he does agree with Bennett. The government has to do something to intervene in this ecological crisis. So Roosevelt tells Bennett he's putting him in charge of an investigation.

Somewhere, Roosevelt will find the funding, and together they'll determine whether the balance of nature can be restored and the dust storms in the southern plains can finally be brought to an end.

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From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. When Franklin Delano Roosevelt took office in March of 1933, America was in the throes of the worst economic crisis in its history.

Thousands of banks had collapsed. Wages plummeted, and across the country, about 25% of America's workforce was unemployed. But while Roosevelt's New Deal began to address the country's urgent economic problems, another crisis posed an entirely different set of challenges.

Dust storms, large enough to blot out the sun, began blowing across the southern plains. These storms left residents struggling to breathe if they walked outside. People began to suffer from a respiratory disease known as dust pneumonia. And all across the plains, the former prairie land began to look like a sandy desert.

President Roosevelt was intent on doing something to address this issue. So working with soil scientist Hugh Bennett, the president launched an ambitious set of programs with the potential of bringing the ecological crisis to an end. This is Episode 3, When the Dust Settles. It's Friday, April 19, 1935, in Washington, D.C. In a hearing room for the United States Senate, Hugh Bennett is sitting in front of a panel of senators telling stories about his childhood.

Bennett was invited to address the urgent problems with soil erosion and the ecological disaster in the southern plains that's now being called the Dust Bowl. And while Bennett normally wouldn't dream of wasting elected officials' time telling trivial stories about his youth, today those anecdotes are part of his larger plan.

Two years ago, President Roosevelt signed a bill establishing the Soil Erosion Service, a temporary agency running demonstration projects to show the benefits of conservation techniques. And Bennett was named the director. But he believes he needs a permanent agency with a larger budget and more manpower if they're going to have any chance of reversing the dust storms.

And yet many in Congress are skeptical of his work. The Great Depression has left more than 25 million people without regular income, and America's legislators believe creating jobs and fixing the economy should take precedence over dealing with the environment. Bennett understands these objections. For many Americans, the dust storm seemed like a remote problem affecting only small town farmers. And Bennett knows all the charts and explanations about soil science won't convince members of Congress otherwise.

But there is one thing that could change their minds, and that's seeing the effects of the dust storms for themselves. Bennett glances at one of his aides, who looks excited as he signals that the storm is coming. Bennett just needs to keep stalling.

Just five days ago, the largest ever dust storm hit the Oklahoma Plains. This storm lifted over 300,000 tons of prairie topsoil, carrying it several thousand feet into the sky. The storm charted a path across the plains, draping everything in a cloud of dirt and turning the sky black.

And in the days since, this storm has been making its way east. Bennett has been checking in with local weather people, trying to determine if and when the storm will arrive in Washington. Bennett knew there was some chance the nation's capital would be hit with a duster that started in the plains, and that it could happen the very moment he was scheduled to testify in front of Congress.

Seeing a dust storm up close and in person could win over some of the more skeptical senators, convincing them that a problem that begins thousands of miles away is in fact a national issue worth addressing with more than just temporary half measures. So Bennett continues drawing out his testimony, telling the senators stories about his childhood as he waits for the storm to arrive.

Bennett is launching into a joke about dairy cattle when one of the senators interrupts and says the sky is getting dark. Bennett turns and looks out the window. The sun is now shrouded behind a black cloud, and the air has taken on a reddish-brown hue. Specks of dust begin to fall on the Capitol, blowing past statues and groups of congressmen hurrying to get back inside.

And as other members of the Senate turn and gawk at this strange sight, Bennett seizes the opportunity, saying this is why they need to take action and establish a permanent, well-funded agency to deal with the crisis. This situation in the Plains is only getting worse. And the longer Congress ignores the issue, the more they're setting themselves up for a national emergency, one that'll affect everyone from Oklahoma City to Cleveland to Washington, D.C.,

Shortly after Hugh Bennett testifies in Washington, the Senate acts on his recommendations. Congress passes a bill expanding the Soil Erosion Service and making it a permanent agency. And Bennett is granted the money and manpower necessary to carry out more ambitious programs.

With about 20,000 people now under his direction, Bennett carries out the order from President Roosevelt, seeing if large-scale government programs can undo the ecological damage in the southern plains. And one of Bennett's tasks is to convince farmers to implement new environmentally responsible techniques for growing crops.

One of those techniques is known as contour plowing and involves plowing furrows along the curves of the land, creating protective ridges that help prevent the wind from carrying away topsoil, while also using the region's limited water more efficiently. Bennett knows the science, and he's convinced that these methods can help protect the land. But it proves difficult to get farmers to adopt new techniques.

Some farmers in the southern plains have been working their land for 50 years. They've always done things the same way, and they don't trust government men coming in and telling them what to do. Bennett, of course, understands this reluctance. He grew up on a cotton farm in North Carolina and has spent his entire life in agriculture. He's well aware that farmers can have strong, independent spirits and that they may be reluctant to take risks when it comes to tending their own land.

Still, Bennett knows that if the government's programs are going to be successful, they'll have to convince thousands of farmers to let go of their old techniques. So Bennett returns to the plains and pitches farmers on adopting new, sustainable methods to produce crops. And on one afternoon in the mid-1930s, Hugh Bennett is meeting with one of these farmers, an older man who spent years growing wheat in the southern plains.

The two are walking at the edge of a farmer's field which is dry and cracked. That presents an opportunity for Bennett to make his pitch. Oh, Fred, I hope you don't mind me saying it, but I can imagine this land has seen some better days. Oh, that it has. These last few years haven't been kind to me and my neighbors. It's just been one sorrow after another.

Well, that's why I wanted to talk. I wanted to ask you for help, Mr. Bennett. I've heard you've been talking to people in town, but you have to understand, I'm in no position to help anyone except myself and my own family. I understand, but what I'm asking for you to do is help me help you. Well, all right, just tell me straight. What is the government trying to force me to do with my farm? Look, friend, I'm not trying to force you to do anything.

I'm here to offer assistance, really. Now, if you've been talking to your neighbors, you might know that for nearly 30 years, I've been working with soil. I understand the time and effort it takes to manage a farm of this scale, especially in the midst of a drought. But I'm here to tell you I've come across some established methods that can help. There ain't no method that can do anything to solve this problem, and that's the rain stop falling. Now, when I was younger, people used to say the rain follows the plow, that if we just turned over the land, we could change nature itself.

Farmer scratches his chin. I appreciate it. So tell me, are you familiar with Contour Planet? I've heard of it.

But I don't have the resources to put in place that kind of sophisticated stuff. Well, let me tell you the good news. I can share the resources if you're open to it. And if you want to see how it works firsthand before signing on, I can arrange that too. We've got demonstration projects throughout the Plains. People are coming together, forming what we call soil conservation districts, all doing the work to protect the land. Well, I suppose I'd be interested in seeing that.

Well, that's great. There's also one other thing I wanted to ask, though. Would you be open to reseeding some of your property with grasses?

Oh, now I see why you're actually here. You're saying the government wants me to stop farming my land. You want me to plant grass and retire. No, no, not all of it. No. Look, I want your farm to thrive. But we've got to be honest with ourselves. You're never going to have another good year unless we can get this dust to stop glowing. And to do that, we need to plant something that can hold down the soil. You've been here long enough. You know we've got to get things back to the way they used to be.

The farmer glances at a mound of dirt that's piled up beside his house, forming a large dune. Look, I understand what you're saying, and I respect what you're trying to do. All any of us wants is to save our farms. And if you really think switching things up like this might do the trick, I'm willing to give it a shot. If you help me.

The farmer extends his hand, which is leathery and tan from a life spent in the sun. Bennett shakes it, grinning, and then walks away, hops in his car, and begins driving down the road, gearing up for another meeting with another farmer. As Hugh Bennett and other federal employees travel across the southern plains, they manage to convince thousands of people to adopt these new farming techniques aimed at restoring the land.

This shift in agriculture depends on a spirit of collaboration and a sense of shared responsibility. But thousands of miles away, in the nation's capital, policies based on these kind of ideals increasingly come under threat. Ever since being sworn into office, President Roosevelt has put forth a policy agenda centered on public cooperation and government intervention in the private market. And judging by the numbers, Roosevelt's programs seem to be working.

The unemployment rate has dropped by more than a third. The national income has risen more than 50%. Industrial production has doubled, and stock prices have climbed. But not everyone is happy with Roosevelt's New Deal. The country's richest and most powerful citizens begin speaking out against his policies, accusing Roosevelt of being a socialist and arguing he's building a sprawling, unaccountable federal bureaucracy.

Influential newspaper writers turn on the president, too. And with Roosevelt about to run for re-election, he doesn't want to risk losing America's support for his agenda, including all the work his administration is carrying out in the southern plains.

So, in the summer of 1935, Roosevelt makes a move to win over one of his fiercest and most influential critics, William Randolph Hearst, the media mogul whose newspapers shaped the national conversation. During Roosevelt's first election, Hearst was instrumental in helping garner the votes that secured Roosevelt the Democratic nomination. But Roosevelt has recently put forth a proposal to raise taxes on the rich and redistribute the wealth. As a result,

Hearst, one of the richest men in the country, has turned against the president he helped elect. So Roosevelt tries to mend fences. He invites Hearst's chief editor, Edmund Koblenz, to a dinner, hoping to have a conversation about public policy. And one evening in the summer of 1935, Roosevelt and his guests sit down for a lavish meal in the White House.

They're all dining on caviar flown in from Russia, while servers pour fine wine from California. It's a sumptuous meal, the kind the White House normally serves for visiting heads of state. But Roosevelt knows he has to appeal to his guests' tastes as a way to convey that despite his tax policy, he's no card-carrying communist.

So between sips of California Chardonnay, Roosevelt jokes that there are members of his party who say his policies aren't radical enough. People like Louisiana Senator Huey Long, who's been pushing for a program that would place caps on people's inheritance and even their private wealth.

The men sitting around the table laugh at the mention of such a radical proposal. And Roosevelt nods, saying he agrees with their skepticism. But at the same time, he and his administration know there has to be a middle ground between the most extreme proposals and sensible public policy. Roosevelt reminds his guests that the country is still reeling from the Depression. Americans are broke and starving. So to ensure the country's future, they're going to have to push legislation affecting some people's wealth in order to serve the greater good.

Roosevelt stresses that with his own tax policy, the average wealthy man in America would remain untouched. But it may be necessary to raise taxes on the very wealthiest citizens. Roosevelt sets down his glass and waits for a response. And for a moment, the room is silent. Even with an appeal to the national interest, Roosevelt still seems to have rattled his guests. One of the men, Vincent Astor, says he doesn't approve of such an outlandish proposal.

Astor inherited a vast fortune at a young age after his father died on the Titanic. He's led a socially conscious life, using his inheritance to help people who are less fortunate. But Astor says Roosevelt's plan could bankrupt him.

Roosevelt nods. He knows the ultra-wealthy are loath to give up their fortunes, but he tries again to appeal to his guest's sense of fairness, arguing that his predecessor, Herbert Hoover, enacted a tax code that placed undue burdens on the middle and working classes. Roosevelt is simply trying to right the ship.

Roosevelt then looks over at Koblenz, William Randolph Hearst's chief editor. But he's not persuaded by the argument either. And he notes that Hearst would be unduly impacted by Roosevelt's legislation. So Roosevelt sets down his class and gives up any pretense that he can win over this crowd. Coming into this evening, the president was still hopeful he could make some headway, appealing to a basic sense of fairness. He was even willing to entertain a more limited tax policy.

But it seems neither gentle persuasion or fancy caviar is going to change their minds. So when the dinner comes to an end, Roosevelt thanks the men for their time and quickly begins to formulate a new plan. Roosevelt has no doubt he'll continue to face heated opposition from his political enemies, including members of the press and the very wealthiest Americans.

Roosevelt is not going to let them win the war of public opinion and threaten his upcoming re-election. So Roosevelt is just going to have to pivot and take his pitch directly to the American people. American Scandal is sponsored by Audible. Ever notice how a whisper can be more captivating than a shout? It's because your mind races in to fill in the blanks. Listening doesn't just inform, it invites in your imagination. And that's why Audible is such a great place to let your imagination soar.

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In the months before the 1936 election, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt works to shore up public support for his domestic policies, including programs designed to combat the Dust Bowl. But for many Americans, the dust storms ravaging the plains remain a distant concern, a problem for those living in the countryside, far from major population centers. So Roosevelt's administration begins to carry out an unprecedented campaign to raise public awareness.

One of Roosevelt's agencies starts hiring photographers to travel to the plains, documenting the experiences of everyday Americans surviving the Dust Bowl. And the photographs that emerge from this documentary project are startling. The photographers capture shots of starving children, homeless families, and struggling farmers.

The images are distributed to newspapers and magazines as well as book publishers and show how the former grasslands of the southern plains have been transformed into an unrecognizable desert with everything covered in dirt. And behind the images is an implicit argument that even though the president's recovery programs are expensive, they're urgent and above all necessary.

With their widespread distribution, these photographs of the Dust Bowl help Roosevelt marshal public support for his policies, even as some argue the campaign is an act of propaganda. But as Roosevelt wins increasing public support for his programs in the Plains, behind closed doors, the president receives a troubling report casting doubt on the entire effort. Years earlier, the president had tasked soil scientist Hugh Bennett to further study the Dust Bowl and to show conclusively what had caused the crisis.

In August of 1936, Bennett delivers his report. The document argues that the dust storms plaguing the prairie are a direct result of American public policy, specifically the homestead policies that encouraged Americans to move out to the plains and begin growing crops.

The report highlights government incentives for farmers to grow wheat used to supply allies during World War I and argues that these wartime initiatives created an unsustainable system of agriculture that stripped the land bare, leaving millions of acres of soil exposed to the winds. The report argues that the Dust Bowl resulted from a systemic failure caused by naive politicians and self-interested actors in the private sector.

And ultimately, it remains unclear whether anyone can fully undo the damage. Then, the report concludes with a warning, saying the nation can't simply walk away from its problems, arguing, "...we endanger our democracy if we allow the Great Plains or any section of the country to become an economic desert."

It's a message that resonates with President Roosevelt. And on September 6th, 1936, about two months before the election, the president decides to speak to the country, highlighting this issue as a national concern and calling on Americans to support the administration's efforts in the southern plains. That evening, Roosevelt is sitting at the desk in his private study, getting ready to record one of his fireside chats, addresses to the American public broadcast on radios across the country.

And when Roosevelt's team signals that they're ready to begin the broadcast, the president leans forward to the mic and begins talking about life on the Great Plains. Roosevelt tells the country about his tour of the plains, that he talked with families who had lost their wheat crop, lost their livestock, lost the water in their well, lost their garden, and come through to the end of summer without $1 of cash resources, facing a winter without feed or food.

The president paints a picture of wheat fields so blasted by heat that they cannot be harvested, and cornfields stunted, earless, and stripped of leaves. But Roosevelt tells the country that this is not a permanent disaster. He begins describing effective programs led by federal and state governments that have helped alleviate the crisis, including projects to prevent soil erosion and encourage water conservation.

Roosevelt then takes a moment to acknowledge some of his critics, who question whether the federal government should be spending money on an ecological issue while the country is still struggling with an economic crisis. But Roosevelt argues that this spending is a sound investment. He says that by conserving the land, farmers will be able to stay on their properties rather than being forced to flee into nearby cities, which could be ill-prepared to absorb new residents, causing yet another economic crisis.

And while recognizing that there's no panacea that can fix the problem in the Great Plains, Roosevelt offers an optimistic vision of the work to come, saying, We're going to conserve soil, conserve water, and conserve life. We're going to have long-time defenses against both low prices and drought. We're going to have a foreign policy that will serve the national welfare. That is our hope for the future. In November of 1936, President Roosevelt wins his re-election in a landslide.

Roosevelt earns over 98% of the Electoral College vote, a lopsided victory that serves as a mandate for the president's policy agenda, including his administration's soil conservation programs in the Southern Plains. And while many resist the government's recommendations, in the middle of the growing season, the region experiences what many see as vindication of the administration's efforts.

A steady rain finally arrives on the plains after years of drought. And when it comes to a stop, green grass begins to sprout across the prairie, where farmers have adopted the methods advocated by soil scientist Hugh Bennett. And that summer, in Dallin County, Texas, Hugh Bennett gets a first-hand look at the rejuvenated land. Bennett is wandering through a field of green alfalfa as high as a man's waist. He takes a deep, satisfied breath, filling his lungs with the clean air of the prairie.

And when a reporter approaches for comment, Bennett uses the moment as another opportunity to pitch the public on his ideas. Well, look around, friend. This all used to be sand dunes, a veritable wasteland devoid of life. Now, thanks to the cooperative effort of local farmers, we've got grass taller than a five-year-old.

The reporter writes down the quote and then looks back up at Bennett. So I take it you believe this is proof that some of your controversial methods have an impact? I do believe that's the case, yeah. And I'll remind you, much of what we consider controversial is only that way because it's new. But weren't they also controversial because many farmers believed you'd be hurting their bottom line? Except if you look around, you can see it's just the opposite, right?

Bennett points to the edge of the field, where a slope has been transformed into a man-made terrace. You see over there? The way this farmer built up the hillside? This method of terracing helps keep a sudden rainfall from washing away the soil. Elsewhere, farmers are practicing contour plowing, and that maximizes water absorption. Now, some of it is hard to see. I understand that. But these techniques are a better, more efficient way to use our limited resources. They preserve the land so people can keep farming, but they're also economical.

Well, I think people could probably understand that. But what about this whole proposal about planting grass? Retiring whole portions of people's property? Well, I just invite you to think about conservation as a matter of our own self-interest. If we replant the land with grass, sure, that's less money up front than growing wheat or corn.

But these grasses have a deep root system, and it holds down the soil. And if you keep the soil in place, you can prevent some of these terrible dust storms, which you know can destroy crops, and in doing so, cost farmers a lot of money. So it's just about whether you invest up front, or pay a much larger price down the line. Well, Mr. Bennett, I think that probably answers some of your critics, but what about your supporters? Are you ready to declare victory over the Dust Bowl?

And it gazes out at the sprawling field of grass before delivering what he believes is an important but sobering truth. Unfortunately, the answer is no. This growth looks like an act of divine providence, but as we know, we can't depend on miracles. This is a harsh environment. We have to keep working together. It's slow and steady progress. But if we don't lose our patience, someday in the future, yeah, we may well be able to consider the job done.

Bennett wraps up the interview before posing for some pictures next to the growing field of alfalfa. He grins, putting on a good face for the camera, and it's not entirely an act. He's proud to see everything they've accomplished, all the signs that the federal programs are having an effect and that the land is beginning to recover. But while they've made some meaningful progress, Bennett isn't naive about life in the plains and the dangers that could be just around the corner.

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By the summer of 1937, residents in the southern plains had begun making halting progress in the effort to combat the Dust Bowl. But just as soil scientist Hugh Bennett had warned, the advancements are tenuous at best. That summer, a powerful heat wave blankets the plains with temperatures reaching 110 degrees. Crops turn brown before they can be harvested, and anxious farmers are left pinning their hopes on the return of a steady rainfall, which proves to be elusive.

Many begin to confront the prospect of losing an entire harvest to the weather. But in late June, the southern plains face an even more unusual threat. Farmers standing in their fields notice strange dark clouds approaching on the horizon. It doesn't appear to be a thunderstorm or even a dust storm. And when the clouds get closer, they become audible, sounding like the humming of an electrical wire.

Grasshoppers, swarming through the air, descend on people's land, eating everything farmers had managed to grow that season. The grasshoppers' predators had disappeared during the drought, and without any natural threats, the insects were able to multiply endlessly. So now, traveling in massive swarms, the insects quickly devastate people's farms and destroy crops.

The National Guard is called in to deal with the crisis, and soldiers begin burning farmland, even spraying arsenic, in an effort to gain an upper hand. And in the end, the National Guard manages to kill off the insects. But the losses are profound, and many farmers are left feeling bereft and hopeless about the future. But despite their losses, they don't give up.

Farmers continue to work their land while carrying out the conservation programs advocated by President Roosevelt's administration. And the next year, in July of 1938, Roosevelt travels to the Texas Panhandle to show his support for their efforts.

The trip is partly an act of political calculation. Voters are again about to cast their ballots in the midterm primaries, and Roosevelt is traveling the country, continuing to shore up support for his New Deal legislation and politicians who support his agenda. But for Roosevelt, it's also an opportunity to celebrate the accomplishments they've made so far in the Plains.

So on the evening of July 11th, Roosevelt's presidential train arrives in Amarillo, and he makes his way to Elwood Park, where he's planning to address a large crowd. Amarillo has about 50,000 residents. But as Roosevelt looks out at the park, he can tell as many as three times that have shown up for the event.

Roosevelt knows that around here, many view him as a savior, a politician who never forgot about the plight of people in the countryside and whose programs are helping save their land. So he's bound to receive a strong reception from the locals, and it should also be a fun evening. Musicians from across the panhandle have gathered for the event, forming the largest marching band in the country's history. And apparently, the locals stitched a flag that's nearly 150 square feet, another national record.

It's all lining up to be a successful event for the president. But as he looks up at the skies, he notices dark clouds approaching. Roosevelt turns to one of his aides with a look of concern. I hope we're not about to live through another dust storm like Black Sunday. Sir, we've checked with the weather bureau, and though no one's expecting a duster, there could be some rain. We may want to consider canceling for your sake.

Roosevelt raises an eyebrow. And what is that supposed to mean? I'm sorry, I'm only trying to think of you and your health. I take it you're referring to my polio. You think I don't have the vigor to make it through a rainstorm? No, no, sir, I know you're perfectly capable. It's just that we've been barnstorming the country on this campaign trail. And I wonder if it's more useful instead to spend your energy on something other than a bunch of farmers. So now you're calling me feeble and questioning my political acumen. Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I don't mean to be insubordinate.

But we have been discussing our recent strategy, and we want to make sure that we're making the right decisions for you and the party in the upcoming midterms. Well, I'm heartened to know that my aides have such noble intentions. But I'll remind you of something I've learned having won two presidential elections.

Good policy is good politics. If you do the right thing and you show your victories to the American public, the votes will follow. I understand, sir. Now, we are seeing the same crowd out there in the park, are we not? Yes, sir. A hundred, hundred and fifty thousand people, some of whom drove days to get here. I understand there is a lot of enthusiasm among the locals, yes, sir. Then I hope you and my other aides will know enough about Congress to know that these one hundred and fifty thousand people will cast their votes today.

And whoever wins is who we end up negotiating with back in Washington. You're right, sir. This is a political opportunity. I'm glad you can at least see that. And I want to impart one last idea to you before I go speak. We cannot abandon an entire section of this country. And not only because doing so would be a political disaster, but because it's wrong.

Wrong to mortgage the future to pay for the present. It's wrong to lead a democratic government that ignores the needs of its own people simply because they're just a bunch of farmers. Roosevelt doesn't wait for his aide to respond, and instead he steps out of the train car and begins walking through the park, heading to the grandstand. The rain does begin to fall, drenching the president and the crowd. But a bit of water doesn't diminish anyone's spirits. The crowd cheers for the president as he makes his way on stage.

And soon, Roosevelt begins addressing his audience. He pledges to continue offering government assistance, helping farmers improve their land while protecting their crops from collapsing prices. And Roosevelt praises the crowd for taking part in conservation programs, saying the Dust Bowl can be ended only by a united national effort, backed up 100% by you who live in this area. Then he adds that the farmers are giving us that backing.

Hearing the president's message of support, the audience breaks out in cheers and applause. Roosevelt spends a moment gazing out at the sea of farmers drenched in rainwater, the musicians carrying trumpets and drums and clarinets, and the proud Americans hoisting a giant flag that's grown heavy and sopping wet from the storm.

Roosevelt deeply admires their resilience, and he believes this crowd says something about the country, that as long as Americans are willing to work together, they'll always have the strength to persevere through the biggest and most enduring challenges. By the late 1930s, farmers were increasingly implementing conservation techniques advocated by Hugh Bennett and the Roosevelt administration, including replanting the land with grass as a way to prevent soil from being swept away in the winds.

But individual farmers weren't the only ones carrying out the work. The federal government purchased more than 11 million acres of land formerly used for agriculture and converted much of it to grasslands.

Today, the Great Plains continue to experience a natural, periodic cycle of drought. And while soil still drifts through the plains, the region has never experienced an extreme dust storm like Black Sunday, 1935. And according to a study from 2004, conservation techniques are largely to thank for these improvements. But while the dust is not blowing like it used to, scientists are now raising alarms about another environmental issue in the Great Plains.

Although millions of acres have been restored as grasslands, the plains are still largely devoted to agriculture. And farmers in the region rely heavily on the Ogallala Aquifer, an enormous underground body of water that spans eight states. Aquifers are naturally recharged when rain falls from the sky and drains into the ground. But farmers are pumping water up to irrigate their crops faster than the aquifer can naturally replenish.

And experts now warn that unless farmers adopt new techniques, the aquifer could be depleted by the end of the century, causing environmental destruction and leaving the plains farmers without hope. From Wondery, this is Episode 3 of the Dust Bowl for American Skiing.

In our next episode, I talk with Scott Enten, an attorney who was part of a team that took on an industrial plant that had been polluting a small city in Iowa for decades. We'll discuss how the years-long battle could serve as a model for other communities and how the group's legal strategy could be used to address climate change.

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 Pott. Music editing by Katrina Zimrack. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by Vanessa Gomez, edited by Emma Cortland. Our senior producer is Gabe Riven. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer Beckman, and Marshall Louis for Wondery. It started with a backpack at the 1996 Centennial Olympic Games. A backpack that contained a bomb.

While the authorities focused on the wrong suspect, a serial bomber planned his next attacks: two abortion clinics and a lesbian bar. But this isn't his story. It's a human story.

one that I've become entangled with. I saw, as soon as I turned the corner, basically someone bleeding out. The victims of these brutal attacks were left to pick up the pieces, forced to explore the gray areas between right and wrong, life and death. Their once ordinary lives, and mine, changed forever. It kind of gave me a feeling of pending doom. And all the while, our country found itself facing down a long and ugly reckoning with a growing threat. Far-right, homegrown religious terrorism.

Listen to Flashpoint on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.