“Why Dayton – of all places?” This question, asked by many, is answered directly or indirectly in a 28-page booklet of the same title produced in 1925 by F.E. Robinson and W.E. Morgan. In purple prose, the publication addresses “champions of the survival of the fittest” and “followers of the lowly Nazarene” and alludes to the complex religious and philosophical issues involved in the trial. Currently these can be summarized as Darwinian theory vs. Biblical theology, academic freedom of teachers vs. that of students, governmental rights vs. those of parents, and First and Fourteenth Amendments clauses covering freedom of speech, establishment of religion, and personal liberty.
The booklet also evaluates the political genesis of the trial and especially the mixture of politics and religion that occurred when William Jennings Bryan lectured in Nashville on “Is the Bible True?” a year before the legislature discussed the evolution question (Robinson 3, 11). Several hundred copies of Bryan’s lecture were sent on two occasions to the legislators (Russell 183). One of the recipients was Representative John Washington Butler, who originated House Bill 185, which stated, “That it shall be unlawful for any teacher in any of the Universities, Normals, and all other public schools of the State which are supported in whole or in part by the public school funds of the State, to teach any theory that denies the story of the Divine Creation of man as taught in the Bible, and to teach instead that man has descended from a lower order of animals.” The bill was passed in the lower house by a vote of 71 to 5 on 28 January 1925; was approved by the senate 24 to 6 on Friday, 13 March 1925; and was signed into law by Governor Austin Peay on 21 March 1925, becoming Chapter 27 of the Public Acts of Tennessee for 1925. Violation of the act was considered a misdemeanor and subject to a fine of $100-$500 for each offense (Grebstein 1, 3).
In addition to the philosophical, religious, and political facets, the Robinson and Morgan booklet cites two somewhat related reasons for “Why Dayton – of all places?” The first was a response to an American Civil Liberties Union offer to test the new law that was on the part of the Dayton movers and shakers a “half playful, half serious” plan to “start something and maybe it would be interesting.” The second was a serious economic affirmation: “Dayton would be woefully remiss in her duty to herself not to grasp this hour of her lime-light incandescence and make of it an occasion for self-aggrandizement with some incontrovertible facts about her products and natural resources.” Supported by ten pages of pictures, the booklet extols the agricultural advantages of the Dayton area and then states, “Dayton bids for new industries with advantages second to none” (Robinson 14-27)
The above-mentioned two streams of thought converged in the mind of one man: George W. Rappleyea, a metallurgical engineer who had come to Tennessee from New York City, married a Dayton girl, and was managing the ailing Cumberland Coal and Iron Company in Dayton. When Rappleyea read his 4 May 1925 issue of the Chattanooga Daily Times, he saw an article that had the potential of ending Dayton’s economic drought and bringing a rain of economic benefits. Rappleyea took the paper and headed for Robinson’s Drug Store. Frank Earle Robinson, who called himself “the hustling druggist,” was the chairman of the Rhea County School Board and a man of civic vision and activity
Rappleyea showed Robinson the article, which contained an announcement from the New York headquarters of the ACLU that said, in reference to the new Tennessee anti-evolution law, “We are looking for a Tennessee teacher who is willing to accept our services in testing this law in the courts. Our lawyers think a friendly test can be arranged without costing a teacher his or her job” (Allem 56, 58: “Plan” 5).
Accounts compiled over 30-45 years later by various researchers interviewing Robinson, Rappleyea, Scopes, and others disagree so much on specific details that they can be harmonized only on major points. It is at least clear that by May 5 the following met with Doc Robinson at his drug store to discuss a possible test case of the evolution law: Rappleyea, Superintendent of Schools Walter White, lawyer Wallace C. Haggard, city attorneys Herbert B. Hicks and his brother Sue K. Hicks (the original “Boy Named Sue” of the Johnny Cash hit), and John Thomas Scopes. Since the regular biology teacher, W.F. Ferguson, refused to be a part of a test case, Scopes was asked to help even though he was the football, basketball, and baseball coach and taught math, physics, and chemistry. At least he had substituted for a few days in biology class when Ferguson was sick, but Scopes confessed. “I wasn’t sure I had taught evolution.” He agreed, however, to help. A warrant was sworn out, the press and ACLU were notified, and law school dean and Rhea County native Dr. John R Neal made his services available to Scopes (Allem 58-64; de Camp 7-16, 433; Scopes 56-65).
Setting the Stage
Through the efforts of the press, the World’s Christian Fundamentals Association, and the Dayton court choreographers, William Jennings Bryan announced on May 12 that he was willing to participate in the trial without remuneration (Larson 60-61; Ginger 23; Allem 63). Because Bryan was a former Secretary of State, three-time presidential candidate, leader of the Democratic Party for some fifteen years, popular silver-tongued orator of the Chautauqua circuit, and famous spokesman for Christian fundamentalist ideas, his arrival on the scene raised the trial to major-league status and broadened the issues
The day after Bryan’s announcement, Clarence Seward Darrow, America’s most famous criminal lawyer, was urged by journalist H.L Mencken to offer without charge his services to Scopes: “Nobody gives a damn about that yap schoolteacher. The thing to do is to make a fool out of Bryan.” By the end of the week, both Darrow and his friend Dudley Field Malone had wired Dr. Neal of their availability. Neal and Scopes were delighted, but the ACLU was not. Darrow was radical and sensational, and Malone did not have the best public image, being an international divorce lawyer and a divorced, backslidden Catholic (de Camp 74, 78-80, 89-92; Fecher 199; Scopes 71-73).
The next eight weeks were marked by a mixture of serious legal maneuvers and comic interludes. Chattanooga leaders tried unsuccessfully to get the trial. Dayton leaders countered successfully by recalling Scopes from vacation in Kentucky, speeding up the legal process by two months, and arranging for two fake fights to maintain media interest. On July 2 in New York, the defense planned their strategy, which included broadening the argument to pit science against Fundamentalism and sacrificing Scopes’ acquittal for the opportunity to appeal a verdict of guilty to a higher court in the hope that the Monkey Law would be declared unconstitutional (Allem 65-69, Scopes 69, 74-76; de Camp 130-131.
Back in Dayton the population swelled from about 1800 to about 5000 at the height of the trial. There was an increasing carnival atmosphere: refreshment stands, monkey souvenirs, eccentrics such as “John the Baptist the Third,” and oddities such as Joe Mendi, the trained chimpanzee. And then there were the media people: three news services and 120 reporters, whose stories totaled about two million words and whose ranks included H.L. Mencken, Joseph Wood Krutch, and Westbrook Pegler; 65 telegraph operators, who sent more words to Europe and Australia than had ever been cabled about any other American happening; and Quin Ryan and the radio crew from the Chicago Tribune’s WGN, who did the first live national broadcast of an American trial (de Camp 116, 147, 161-164, 171; Ginger 66; Trial 316).
The official chief counsel for the defense was Dr. John R. Neal, and he was ably assisted by Clarence Darrow, Dudley Field Malone, Arthur Garfield Hays (ACLU representative, agnostic, Malone’s partner in international divorce cases), W.O. Thompson (Darrow’s law partner and replacement for Bainbridge Colby, who resigned the day before the trial began), and F.B. McElwee (former student of Neal and replacement for John L. Godsey, who resigned the first day of the trial after being active in the planning and preparations). In addition, the defense had as librarian and Biblical authority Charles Francis Potter (Modernist Unitarian preacher) (Scopes 65,91-92; de Camp 126, 166, 172-173).
In charge of the prosecution was A.T. Stewart (Attorney General for the Eighteenth Judicial Circuit). Serving with him were William Jennings Bryan, William Jennings Bryan Jr. (Bryan’s son from Los Angeles), Ben O. McKenzie (former Assistant Attorney General from Dayton), J. Gordon McKenzie (Ben’s son and a former judge), Sue K. Hicks (from Dayton), Herbert B. Hicks (Sue’s brother), and Wallace C. Haggard (F.E. Robinson’s brother-in-law) (de Camp 124, 125; Allem 59).
Those officiating and assisting at the trial were under much pressure because of the significance of the issues, the importance of some of the lawyers, the hot July weather, the presence of the media, and the crowded conditions of the courtroom, which was built to seat about 400 but had about twice that number seated and standing. The presiding judge of the Eighteenth Judicial Circuit Court was John Tate Raulston, who lived in Winchester and was a devout Baptist. Helping to maintain law and order were Sheriff Robert “Bluch” Harris, officer Jim Mansfield, and — on loan from the Chattanooga Police Department — Captain Marion Perkins and four of his men, one of whom, Kelso Rice, Judge Raulston chose to be Bailiff. The court reporter was Mrs. McCloskey of the McCloskey firm; and the boy who chose the jury names was Tommy J. Brewer (de Camp 83-84, 120, 161, 209-210; Gorman 2; Allem 73, 76; Trial 21; Harris).