©2015 Kristoffer M. Shields ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CULTURE ON TRIAL: LAW, MORALITY, AND THE PERFORMANCE TRIAL IN THE SHADOW OF WORLD WAR I by KRISTOFFER M. SHIELDS A dissertation submitted to the Graduate School—New Brunswick Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey In partial fulfillment of the requirements For the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Graduate Program in History Written under the direction of T.J. Jackson Lears And approved by _____________________________________ _____________________________________ _____________________________________ _____________________________________ New Brunswick, New Jersey OCTOBER 2015 ABSTRACT OF THE DISSERTATION Culture on Trial: Law, Morality, and the Performance Trial in the Shadow of World War I By KRISTOFFER M. SHIELDS Dissertation Director: T.J. Jackson Lears This dissertation analyzes three specific American trials, each taking place between 1921 and 1926: the State of Tennessee v. John T. Scopes; the murder trial of Frances Stevens Hall; and the murder trial(s) of silent film star Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle. Despite the trials’ disparate facts, each became prominent nationally, covered by a variety of media and heavily attended by live audiences. This was not unprecedented. Throughout American history, trials have often been subjects of public fascination. At times, individual cases have become cultural phenomena, followed and discussed by onlookers across the country, reaching a point of national cultural relevance. I call these types of trials “performance trials” and argue that they are valuable and overlooked resources for historians. The three trials analyzed in this dissertation are especially instructive. The 1920s are a fertile time for performance trials, evidenced in part by this cluster of three such trials taking place within five years of each other. In the wake of World War I and the ii culmination of reform efforts such as Prohibition and the woman’s suffrage movement, the early 1920s were a time of cultural fragmentation and reorganization. Various groups—including Protestants, moral reformers, women, scientists, “modernists,” businesspeople, and “laypeople” alike—were struggling to find their place in the shifting culture and preserve their power within it. These three trials became phenomena because they captured one part of that cultural negotiation: the argument over the moral future of American culture and where moral authority should rest. Through the use of newspaper reports, trial transcripts, audience reactions, and other sources, this dissertation presents the narratives of these trials and analyzes them in order to illuminate these cultural skirmishes over moral authority. The dissertation presents and breaks down the competing versions of modernity offered by the various groups, including both those who embraced the new culture and those who argued that a new moral reform movement was needed in order to rein it in. Viewing the trials through the eyes of Americans responding to an early version of the “culture wars,” the dissertation provides insight into the cultural turmoil of the early 1920s. iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENT As is always the case, this would not have been possible without the assistance, support, advice, and expertise of many people. First and foremost, I thank my committee: David Greenberg, Paul Israel, Hendrik Hartog, and my advisor Jackson Lears. Their flexibility, encouragement, comments, and advice have been invaluable throughout this process and without their support, this simply would not have happened. I could not have dreamt of a better committee. I also thank the Rutgers History Department. The cooperative nature of the entire department is a credit to the university. I particularly appreciate the assistance of the Graduate Vice Chairs who served during my tenure as well as Dawn Ruskai, who so kindly shepherded me through the administrative requirements. My fellow graduate students in the department also deserve special gratitude; there are far too many to name, but two require special mention. Dennis Halpin and Melanie Kiechle are not only tremendous readers, sounding boards, and historians, they are also fantastic friends. I also appreciate the efforts and advice of Katherine Sibley, the editor of A Companion to Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Herbert Hoover for her suggestions on my contribution to that volume. While I have not directly reproduced that work in this dissertation, I have drawn on some of the research. I have been very fortunate over the past three years to be associated with the Eagleton Institute of Politics at Rutgers University, first as a Fellow and later as an employee. I am indebted to everyone at Eagleton for their support and for being such wonderful co-workers. I especially thank Ruth Mandel, the Director of the Eagleton Institute, and John Weingart, the Associate Director, for their patience and iv encouragement as I completed this project. Their friendship and advice has been invaluable. Eagleton is truly a special place, entirely because of the people who work there. Finally, on a personal note, I save my deepest thanks for my family. My parents have been supportive throughout the process, as they have been throughout my entire life. And last but not least, I thank the two most important people in my life. My wife, Susana, my partner in life, has been by my side through everything. I do not remember life without her. Her dedication and tenacity are a constant inspiration and her unwavering support has gotten me through the most difficult times. And finally, I thank my role model, my light, the person who has taught me more about life than anyone else could: my daughter Sabrina. I love you, Sabi. v TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract of the Dissertation ii Acknowledgement iv Introduction 1 Chapter One – Scopes: Creating a Scene 30 Chapter Two – Scopes: Complicating the Stakes 55 Chapter Three – Hall-Mills: A Curious Affair 94 Chapter Four – Hall-Mills: The Widow, The Daughter, and the Pig Woman 123 Chapter Five – Fatty Arbuckle: A Star is Tried 159 Chapter Six – Fatty Arbuckle: The Case for Censorship 186 Epilogue 221 Bibliography 235 vi 1 INTRODUCTION The crowd pushed towards the outdoor stage, each member jostling for a prime seat on one of the backless wooden benches closest to the action. There were more people than seats on this particular afternoon, ensuring that it would be a standing room only performance. Some spectators stood in the grass behind those lucky enough to get a seat, cooling themselves with a soda or ice cream purchased from vendors. Others found a spot on the ground to sit, under the shade of towering maple trees. Still others sat in the windows of local buildings, dangling their feet over second-floor ledges. This was the sight so many had traveled hundreds of miles to see. The performance was about to begin.1 The crowd would witness high drama on the afternoon of July 20, 1925, but it was not attending a play. It had, as the Atlanta Constitution described it, the “formal air of a Chautauqua debate,” but it was neither a debate nor a Chautauqua meeting.2 It was a trial; more specifically, it was the seventh day of the trial of John T. Scopes for the teaching of evolution in Dayton, Tennessee. Moved outside for the afternoon due to structural concerns about the Rhea County Courthouse, the Scopes trial for at least one day looked more like a public performance than a legal proceeding, a perception that was not far from the truth. The scene outside the courthouse was not unprecedented. Throughout American history trials have often become public performances. By the 1920s, American trials— 1 “Big Crowd Watches Trial Under Trees,” New York Times, July 21, 1925, 1. Also “Bryan and Darrow in Bitter Religious Clash as Commoner is Quizzed on his Bible Views,” The Atlanta Constitution, July 21, 1925, 1. 2 “‘Read Your Bible’ Banner Removed from Jury’s Sight,” The Atlanta Constitution, July 21, 1925, 2. 2 particularly those involving gruesome crimes—had long been subjects of public interest.3 Traditionally open to the public in the United States, trials could provide the public access to an important social institution—the law—as well serve as a form of entertainment featuring drama, oration, and mystery. Individuals in the 1920s took full advantage of both functions, perhaps most obviously embracing a trial’s value as entertainment. Newspapermen began attending certain trials by the hundreds, not only to report the gory details of the crimes, but increasingly to provide a daily update to their readers on the happenings inside the courtroom. The inherent entertainment appeal of trials is not hard to understand. Narrative has always been an important part of human experience and trials, at their foundation, provide a series of competing narratives, each side attempting to convince the decision-maker (usually a jury in the most famous cases) that its “story” is closest to the “truth.” As the legal historian Lawrence Friedman put it, “[Criminal trials] were lush dramas, embroidered with juicy details (some of them fake) in the daily press. These trials satisfied some deep-seated hunger of the bourgeoisie. The newspapers clucked and scolded and pretended to be appalled; but these sordid affairs gave off the rotting perfume of forbidden fruit.”4 A criminal trial is, as Friedman concludes, “almost inherently dramatic.”5 While this is certainly true, the significance of a certain type of trial in U.S. history goes still deeper. When a trial becomes as notorious or popular as the scene described in Dayton, it reaches the point of cultural relevance. It is no longer simply 3 On the popularity of trial report pamphlets, see Karen Halttunen, Murder Most Foul: The Killer and the American Gothic Imagination (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998). For discussion of the importance of crime and trial in penny press, see Andie Tucher, Froth and Scum: Truth, Beauty, and the Ax Murder in America’s First Mass Medium (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1994).