As I discussed in my two previous posts, in strictly legal terms, the 1925 Scopes trial had little impact. But it was never meant to be primarily a legal issue. Right from the beginning, the whole case was designed as a publicity stunt and in that respect, it succeeded spectacularly. The newly created American Civil Liberties Union announced that it would challenge the 1925 Butler Act, passed in March of that year, as a violation of free speech and put out an ad saying that it would represent any teacher who was charged under it. A small group of Dayton civic leaders saw such a legal challenge a public relations opportunity and decided that such a case should take place in their city and quickly moved to ensure it, fearful of being scooped by other cities. They put the case on a very fast track, which is why a mere four months later, a lightning pace in the legal world, the Scopes trial took place.

In my book God vs. Darwin: The War Between Evolution and Creationism in the Classroom that reviewed the 80-year legal fight by religious groups to combat the teaching of the theory of evolution in public schools, that began with the Scopes trial and ended with the Intelligent Design trial in Dover, PA in 2005, I describe how the case came about.

Right from the beginning, rather than being a bitter adversarial contest between science and religion that tore apart a small town, the prosecution and trial was staged by the local civic leaders of Dayton as mainly a public relations exercise, to benefit the town by increasing its visibility because of the resulting publicity. They felt that by putting on a show trial involving well-known national figures on a controversial topic that was being debated nationwide and generating immense passions, they would draw national media and tourists to the city, leading to an economic boom. So they quickly set about making sure that the trial took place in their town.

Dayton resident George Rappleyea, who personally opposed the anti-evolution Butler Act, worked with Fred Robinson (a local businessman and also chair of the county school board), the school superintendent (who supported the law), two city attorneys who agreed to prosecute the case, and a local attorney to handle the defense, to put all the ingredients into place.

All they needed now was someone to charge with violating the Butler Act. They did not want anyone’s life or career to be harmed by what was essentially a publicity-seeking event. The team looked around for a suitable candidate to accuse and found one in 24- year old John T. Scopes, an easy-going general science instructor and part-time football coach. Although he was not the regular biology teacher, he made a good candidate because he was single, not a local, had no ties to the region, no intention of staying permanently in Dayton, and thus had little to lose from the case. This made him preferable to the regular biology teacher, who was married and was also the school principal and thus would have had a lot more at stake.

In the film Inherit the Wind, Scopes was arrested in his classroom by grim-faced city leaders while in the very act of teaching his class about evolution, and then flung into jail. While there, he had to listen to hostile citizens marching around the jail carrying banners and chanting slogans vilifying him, flinging bottles through his cell windows, and seeing himself burned in effigy, while in the evening the local clergyman preached fiery sermons condemning him to hell for his evil act.

In reality, Scopes was a cheerful co-conspirator in the staged trial. The chummy nature of the whole proceeding is illustrated by the fact that all these friendly discussions took place in the local drugstore owned by the school board chair. The prosecutor, who happened to be Scopes’s close friend, said he would be willing to prosecute Scopes as long as Scopes didn’t mind. (Even during the heat of the trial, the prosecutors and the defendant went for a swim in a pond during a lunch recess.)

Scopes was invited to these discussions and asked whether he would be willing to be prosecuted. Scopes believed in evolution and disagreed with the law so he said he was willing to go along. The group then called over the waiting justice of the peace to swear out a warrant for Scopes, and the waiting constable served him the warrant immediately. Rather than being flung into jail, Scopes then went off to play tennis while the others set in motion the publicity machine by wiring the state’s newspapers with the news that they had charged someone with violating the Butler Act.

The little secret behind the trial was that it was never firmly established that Scopes had even taught evolution at all and thus actually violated the law. He himself could not definitely recall teaching that particular topic. He never took the stand in his defense and thus was not forced to swear under oath on this issue. He and his students also seemed hazy on the entire concept of evolution. But everyone, including Scopes, decided to go along with the idea that he had taught it in order that the trial could take place.
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In mid-May, the 65-year old William Jennings Bryan, who had been campaigning across the nation against the teaching of evolution, volunteered to appear for the prosecution for free, thus guaranteeing the delighted city leaders that the trial would get the national publicity that the instigators had eagerly sought.

The local civic leaders, eager to get as many headliners as possible involved, even tried to get famous English author H. G. Wells, a supporter of evolution, to make the case for evolution at the trial. They considered that his distinguished literary presence would lend a certain cachet to the proceedings, but unfortunately for them, Wells declined to get involved.
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When attorney and well-known agnostic Clarence Darrow was initially approached about whether he would defend Scopes, he declined the offer because he had just retired at the age of 68 and was not interested in taking on new cases. But when he heard that Bryan was appearing for the prosecution, the agnostic Darrow changed his mind and offered to appear on Scopes’s behalf for no fee, relishing the chance to argue on a national stage against one of the most visible proponents of religion.
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Clarence Darrow was the perfect foil for William Jennings Bryan. Darrow was famous for his successful defenses in several high profile criminal cases but he also “delighted in challenging traditional concepts of morality and religion.” He called himself an agnostic but was effectively an atheist, in which respect he was very similar to Charles Darwin. According to Darrow’s biographer “He regarded Christianity as a ‘slave religion,’ encouraging acquiescence in injustice, a willingness to make do with the mediocre, and complacency in the face of the intolerable.”
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The Scopes ‘Trial of the Century’ became the stuff of legend and shrouded in myth from the very beginning. How could it not when the subject matter of the case aroused strong passions nationwide, when the two main protagonists William Jennings Bryan (for the prosecution) and Clarence Darrow (for the defense) were flamboyant, colorful, and high-profile characters, and when the national and world media and commentators (especially the acerbic journalist H. L. Mencken) covered the trial? Right from the start, the spectacle overshadowed the facts.

The trial received ed extensive coverage. with national and international media descending on the city. Remember that radio was a new medium then, how it worked being a mystery to many people.

The front pages of major newspapers including The New York Times were dominated by the case for days. More than 200 newspaper reporters from all parts of the country and two from London were in Dayton Twenty-two telegraphers sent out 165,000 words per day on the trial, thousands of miles of telegraph wires were hung for the purpose; more words were transmitted to Britain about the Scopes trial than for any previous American event. Chicago’s WGN radio station broadcast the trial with announcer Quin Ryan via clear-channel broadcasting first on-the-scene coverage of the criminal trial. Two movie cameramen had their film flown out daily in a small plane from a specially prepared airstrip. The event became known as the “Trial of the Century”, and has been described as the most-covered trial in American history, with only the murder trial of O. J. Simpson some 70 years later receiving comparable coverage.

One person who was not too pleased with all the media attention was Scopes. By all accounts a shy and retiring person, he seemed overwhelmed by it all and took to hiding out whenever he was not in court, so as to avoid the reporters. Marquis James, writing for The New Yorker said that while many locals relished the attention, Scopes was not one of them.

But it is young Scopes who is going to trial. I repeat that it is too bad. It is too bad because it shows a lack of consideration for Scopes, who is a good fellow, but (perhaps on that account) is sick of the bargain he made to submit to arrest at the coaxing and coaching of luminaries of the Progressive Dayton Club and be a hero while town and townsmen get publicity—not to mention the more tangible proofs of attention which courtroom crowds and sightseers with money to spend can bestow.

Mr. Scopes went into this thing young and inexperienced. He is still young, but he has found this hero business different from what it is cracked up to be. He ducks out and hides in the swimming hole along the crick when he hears that a new reporter or photographer has come to town.

So the Dayton civic leaders were spectacularly successful and got the kind of publicity they could have only dreamed about. But as with most publicity stunts, the fame was short-lived and soon Dayton went back to being a sleepy little town. One lasting legacy was the creation in 1930 of William Jennings Bryan University, a Christian college on a hill overlooking the town, that later changed its name in 1993 to just Bryan College.