Cold Open

It’s November 28th, 1921, in the Wardman Park Hotel in Washington, D.C.

Alone in the elevator, 28-year-old Edward “Ned” Doheny presses the button for the top floor. He watches the dial slowly rise, his hands gripping the handle of a heavy black leather satchel.

When the elevator doors open, Ned steps into a quiet hallway. He looks up and down. There’s no one around, and the room he’s looking for is only a few doors away, but the walk still feels longer than it should.

He knocks and waits, nervously checking the hallway again.

When the door swings open, Ned quickly hurries inside. He nods a greeting at Albert Fall, the 60-year-old Secretary of the Interior.

Ned is no stranger to powerful men like Secretary Fall. As the son of a wealthy oil tycoon, he’s moved in influential circles his entire life. He’s used to attending meetings and social functions on behalf of his father. But this is no routine appointment.

Ned carefully empties the satchel onto the bed. Five thick rolls of cash fall onto the mattress. Secretary Fall picks one up and weighs it in his hand. He starts to peel back the bills, but Ned assures him that it’s all there. $100,000 as promised.

Ned swallows. He wants to get out of here as soon as possible, but there’s one last thing he needs.

After a long pause, Secretary Fall gives a curt nod. He moves to a desk, pulls out a sheet of paper, and writes a kind of IOU. Then, he hands it to Ned, telling him to deliver it to his father. The Dohenys have kept their side of the deal. Now, it’s Secretary Fall’s turn to deliver.

Although Albert Fall pretends this vast sum of money is a loan, in fact, it is a bribe. With it, Ned Doheny’s father has just secured the rights to drill for oil on government land in California. It’s an unprecedented act of corruption that will soon erupt into an explosive scandal once the final documents are signed on April 7th, 1922.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is April 7th, 1922: The Teapot Dome Scandal.

Act One: Carry Me, Ohio

It’s April 7th, 1922, at the Department of the Interior in Washington, D.C., five months after a bribe was delivered to Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall.

Sitting at his desk, 61-year-old Secretary Fall tries to still the tremor in his hand. As one of President Warren Harding’s most powerful cabinet members, Fall signs important documents every day. But the paper in front of him now is different. This one has him nervous.

Eight years ago, Fall was elected as Senator from New York. When he reached Washington, he set about building political alliances. And the most useful relationship he developed was with a fellow Republican senator, Ohio’s Warren Harding. Harding was widely seen as destined for the highest office in the land, and Fall became one of his strongest supporters on the Hill.

But Fall was far from Harding’s only powerful backer. He had surrounded himself with a circle of industry leaders and politicians who became known as the Ohio Gang. And when Harding ran for President in 1920, it was them who helped him over the line.

But after Harding was installed in the White House, two members of the Gang expected payback for bankrolling his campaign. Oil magnates Harry Sinclair and Edward Doheny wanted Harding to appoint a Secretary of the Interior who would allow the expansion of oil drilling on federal land. And Harding thought he had the perfect candidate—his friend from New Mexico, Senator Albert Fall.

And the contract on Secretary Fall’s desk today authorizes the lease of two valuable oil fields owned by the federal government. Some of the land has been set aside as an emergency fuel supply for the US Navy. And the rest should have gone up for a competitive bidding process. Instead, the drilling rights have been quietly leased out to the oil tycoons who financed President Harding’s election campaign—Harry Sinclair and Edward Doheny.

But Secretary Fall’s pen hovers above the page. He’s not just worried about this unseemly trade-off between Harding and his campaign backers. Months ago, Fall decided that he should personally profit from the deal too. So, Doheny’s son delivered a secret $100,000 bribe to Fall at a hotel. Sinclair paid even more in cash and bonds. And not even President Harding knows about these extra payments. So if word gets out, Secretary Fall won’t just cause a political scandal for the president. His own reputation will be in tatters, and he may even face criminal charges.

Still, Fall has already taken the money. There’s no turning back now. So, he takes a deep breath, steadies his hand, and signs his name on the bottom of the document. Then, he calls for his clerk to have the contract filed. All he can do now is hope that no one asks too many questions.

But those hopes are soon dashed. Only a week after Secretary Fall puts pen to paper, rival oil companies notice new drilling activity on federal land in Wyoming and California. Furious that they were denied a chance to bid, the companies go to the press. Reporters for the Wall Street Journal dig into the claims. And they follow the paper trail back to Washington, D.C.—and to the Department of the Interior. They run the story, suggesting a clandestine deal has been struck between President Harding’s administration and the men who financed his election campaign.

This scandal quickly takes a name from one of the leased sites—Teapot Dome in Wyoming. But despite the mounting allegations of corruption, President Harding publicly defends the Department of the Interior and Secretary Fall. Standing by his man, the president maintains that the decision to sell the drilling rights was the correct one. He claims that the contract had to be rushed because the oil fields were in danger of drying up. But Harding’s intervention fails to halt the outcry. Politicians from both parties erupt in anger, and the Senate opens an investigation.

Secretary Fall begins to worry that his political career is about to come crashing down. But then something unexpected happens—nothing. For more than six months, not a single Senate hearing is held on the matter.

Secretary Fall will begin to relax and even starts spending some of the money he received. But he won’t be in the clear. The senator leading the inquiry will bide his time, patiently gathering evidence. And soon, he will have everything he needs.

Act Two: The Harding They Fall

It’s October 1923 inside the Senate Building in Washington, D.C., 18 months after lawmakers launched an inquiry into the Teapot Dome Scandal.

64-year-old Senator Thomas Walsh flips through a stack of papers and studies his notes, hoping a new line of questioning might succeed where others have failed.

Over the past few hours, Senator Walsh has been pressing his most important witness for answers on the Teapot Dome Scandal. But from the second Albert Fall entered the room, he’s been combative, defensive, evasive, and openly hostile to the senators.

Six months ago, Fall resigned as Secretary of the Interior. Officially, the decision was made by mutual consent, but in truth, Fall had become too much of a liability to President Warren Harding, who cut him loose to protect himself. But Harding's presidency didn’t last long after. Just four months later, Harding fell ill and died.

The president’s unexpected death has slowed the Senate inquiry, but not stopped it. There is still widespread anger that oil on federal land was given away cheap as political favors. And as a chair of the inquiry, Senator Walsh wants to find out whether simple mismanagement was to blame, or whether this was corruption—a dishonest administration offering kickbacks to its financial backers.

Senator Walsh knows what he thinks. But finding evidence of the crime is proving harder than he expected. His investigation has been stymied at every turn. Witnesses have refused to talk. Important documents have mysteriously gone missing. And now he’s two days into the first public hearing, and he has little to show for his efforts.

As Senator Walsh poses another question, former Secretary Fall leans back in his chair. He bats away the suggestion that the sale was rushed through with a dismissive wave of his hand. But when Walsh asks why the oil field was sold so suddenly, Fall’s tone suddenly shifts. He angrily refers Walsh back to testimony from geologists that was heard yesterday. The scientists confirmed that the oil reserves would run dry if not accessed quickly. So, the rush to sell the oil fields wasn’t a sign of corruption; it was the only responsible course of action. Senator Walsh takes a steadying breath and then calmly continues to press his case. He then asks why the agreement was made with such secrecy. And then Fall replies that he can’t answer on grounds of national security.

After another evasive answer, Walsh quietly closes his notebook. He can see weaknesses in Fall’s story, but he’s clearly not going to make any further progress today. So he thanks Fall for his time and adjourns the session.

Fall leaves the hearing room with a smile on his face. But Senator Walsh has no intention of giving up. He understands how Washington works. He knows that many of his peers on Capitol Hill have no love for Fall and will be disappointed to see him escape accountability so easily. So Senator Walsh waits—and within weeks, new information begins to flow into his office.

The tip-offs all report the same startling change in Fall’s lifestyle. Before the oil fields were leased, Fall had been deeply in debt and on the verge of bankruptcy. Now, he lives like a king. His once dilapidated ranch in New Mexico has been completely refurbished, and the back taxes which he owed have suddenly been paid in full.

This evidence is enough for Senator Walsh to issue a new round of subpoenas. And when he receives Fall's bank records, they reveal large, unexplained deposits. So in early 1924, Fall is told he must return to Washington to explain where the sudden windfall came from, but he declines the invitation, citing poor health. He instead sends a lengthy letter explaining that a friend loaned him the cash.

Soon afterwards, oil tycoon Edward Doheny appears before the committee. And under oath, Edward confirms that Fall’s extravagant new lifestyle was financed by him and admits that his son delivered $100,000 to Fall’s hotel room in a black leather satchel. But he insists it was a loan, and not a bribe.

No one believes him. Instead, his testimony seems like clear evidence of corruption at the highest levels of government. At long last, Senator Walsh’s dogged investigation into the Teapot Dome Scandal has paid off. Now, the matter will pass from Congress to the courts. And it will be up to a jury to decide whether former Interior Secretary Albert Fall will be held accountable for his crimes.

Act Three: The Fall Guy

It’s October 25th, 1929, in a courthouse in Washington, D.C., almost six years after a Senate inquiry exposed corruption at the Department of the Interior.

68-year-old Albert Fall looks toward the jury, searching their faces for some hint of mercy. Unable to walk due to age and illness, he’s been brought into court in a wheelchair. He just hopes that the eight men and four women take pity on him.

A hush descends over the courtroom as the foreman stands. The judge asks him for his verdict, and Fall waits, his heart pounding. Then, he hangs his head when the foreman replies that they’ve found Fall guilty of bribery and conspiracy.

Eight years after receiving cash and bonds in return for government-owned oil rights, Fall has finally been held accountable. At sentencing, he is fined $100,000 and sent away to prison for a year. Poor health will mean he serves only nine months, but the punishment is still historic. Fall is the first United States cabinet official in history to be imprisoned for crimes committed while in office.

His conspirators don’t get away scot-free either. Oil tycoon Harry Sinclair is acquitted of paying bribes, but he's sentenced to six months in prison for contempt of court. And Edward Doheny is followed by allegations of wrongdoing for years to come. He faces several lawsuits from shareholders in the fallout from the scandal, and his business never recovers.

Yet perhaps the biggest victim of the Teapot Dome scandal will be the reputation of former President Warren Harding. When he died, Harding was the most popular politician in the country. But once the full scale of Albert Fall’s duplicity came to light, the Harding administration will be forever linked to corruption—a stain that was created by a single signature on a dubious contract, inked on April 7th, 1922.

Outro

Next on History Daily. April 8th, 1994. Almost a week after he vanished from a detox center, police discover the body of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Owen Paul Nicholls.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.