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Hi, DSW, birthplace of the humble brag.
Here The History Channel Original Podcast.
History This Week, October 4th, 1915.
I'm Sally Helm.
It is a big win for anyone who loves dinosaurs.
President Woodrow Wilson officially establishes 80 acres on the Utah-Colorado border as Dinosaur National Monument.
It's been an active paleontology site for six years, ever since a scientist spotted something at the top of a sandstone ledge.
He called it, in his diary, a beautiful sight.
The rock had been worn away by wind and rain, to reveal eight tailbones of a brontosaurus a brontosaurus who had walked on the same high desert plateau where Native American tribes would hunt for buffalo tens of millions of years later.
And as of today, that spot is officially protected, officially a monument to the dinosaurs.
Imagine the spectacle on the monument's opening day.
Parades of dignitaries in pinstripe suits, excited speeches, marching bands, ladies admiring the fossils while twirling their parasols, kids running around in the Utah dust pretending to be their favorite dinosaur roaring and raising their hands in the air like claws.
Only none of that happens.
President Wilson signs this document in Washington DC and has it sent off to the Bureau of Roles and Documents.
And no one ever celebrated the Bureau of Rules and Documents with a ticker tape parade.
This moment passes quietly.
In fact, the paleontologists working at Dinosaur National Monument don't even know about the announcement until they read about it in the paper.
Which seems weird.
It feels like there would have been a parade.
Because we're talking about dinosaurs.
These massive prehistoric creatures that once walked across the very lands we live on now.
Even we non-paleontologists can name a few.
The brontosaurus with its long neck, the stegosaurus with its spiky back and, of course, the king of all dinosaurs, the tyrannosaurus rex.
Dinosaur mania is real.
Just ask any group of five-year-olds.
Indoraptor.
Triceratops.
Spinosaurus.
T-Rex.
Stegosaurus.
But compared to today, few Americans in 1915 know or care very much about dinosaurs.
A handful of people make the long trek out to Dinosaur National Monument even before it opens.
And once it's official, more arrive.
Then more and more.
This era marks a turning point.
People are about to become completely obsessed with dinosaurs.
And when they do, it'll be largely thanks to the work of two men who they probably haven't heard of.
They were scientific pioneers and kindred spirits until the hunt for bones turned them into foes.
Today, the bone wars.
How did the competition between a pair of paleontologists lead to unprecedented dinosaur discoveries?
And how did the rivalry unhinge them both?
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Digging for fossils is part treasure hunt, part time travel adventure.
I mean, you're the first person who sees this once living thing that lived 60 100, 300 million years ago.
You sort of basically conjure out of these fossils ancient lands in ancient times with ancient beings that were living in them.
Dr. Hans Seuss is the head paleontologist at the Smithsonian Institution.
He helps oversee the United States' collection of fossils.
It's a dream job for a kid who fell in love with dinosaurs, which Seuss did, like a lot of kids.
In most cases, you know, it starts around three or four, and then it ends at 10 at the latest.
Then other things happen.
You know sports members of the opposite sex.
You know, and that's when most people lose interest.
But not Seuss.
He kept looking for fossils, this treasure from the past.
When I was a teenager, I found a group of other amateur fossil collectors and they were from all walks of life.
One was a policeman, one was an accountant.
Did you feel like you had kind of found your crowd when you walked into that room?
Oh, totally.
Yeah, yeah.
It was the only crowd that took me seriously.
In school, he says, he was sort of a science nerd.
But he found his people.
As an adult, he leveled up from the world of amateur fossil collection.
He went pro, started going out on digs, jackhammering away the sandstone, then painstakingly pulling out the bones below.
In many cases, I've been lucky to find actually things that were completely new to science.
And those are, of course, then you feel like it's almost a religious experience.
Seuss's story has a lot in common with the story of a kid who lived hundreds of years before he did.
A poor farm boy named Othniel Charles Marsh.
O-C or Marsh?
O-C spelled O-S-E-E.
He was born in upstate New York.
He was an odd kid, you know, sort of a proto-nerd.
Other kids were probably kicking balls around or climbing around in trees.
But Marsh passed on kicking balls.
Instead, he wandered off to kick at the banks of the nearby Erie Canal, trying to unearth fossils.
For Marsh, there was no group of fossil hunting policemen and accountants to join.
The field of paleontology barely existed.
But his nerdy ways did catch the attention of his uncle, George Peabody, the famous banker and philanthropist.
And Peabody saw the potential in this boy and basically arranged for him to get an education, because he early on just had a very sort of miserly education, as was typical for most Americans.
Then you learn to read and write and maybe read the Bible.
But that was about it.
Peabody pays for Marsh to go to Yale University, where an entire world of knowledge is spread out at his feet.
But Marsh chooses to focus on his long-held passion, fossils.
That was his main thing.
He wanted to acquire fossils, wanted to study them, and wanted to publish on them.
Legend has it that, as an undergrad, Marsh collects so many fossils that his landlady has to prop up the floors to keep them from collapsing under the weight of the bones.
Marsh is a quiet person.
He keeps to himself.
He isn't a scientific genius, just utterly captivated by dinosaurs.
As he grows older, he does reveal a certain inner strength.
He'd been a loner as a kid, and in many ways he still is.
But there's a forcefulness to O.C.
Marsh.
He could be charming, but he generally was kind of a cold in calculating.
He was a very determined person, a superb organizer.
And he was the kind of person that would, under different circumstances, grow up to be a captain of industry.
But that's not what O.C.
Marsh does.
He gets his master's degree from Yale in 1862.
Then he sets off to Europe to learn even more about fossils.
The study was the great scholars there in Ukraine and Germany.
This also allows him to avoid fighting in the Civil War.
And in Germany, Marsh meets a young man like himself, a proto-nerd, named Edward Drinker Cope, our second dueling paleontologist.
We don't have details about their first meeting, in part because Cope would later burn Marsh's letters.
But we do know that they form a strong bond, centered on their shared fascination with fossils.
They have that in common.
They also share an interest in avoiding getting killed in the Civil War.
But they don't share much else.
Unlike Marsh, Willie probably wasn't that much of a genius.
Cope was a genius.
Cope had been a child prodigy.
Born to well-off Quaker parents in Pennsylvania, he left school when he was 15.
By 1861, at the age of 21, he had talked his way into an apprenticeship with Joseph Leidy.
Leidy was a professor at the University of Pennsylvania and the dean of a new field, paleontology.
He'd identified the first dinosaur remains ever found in the United States.
A handful of teeth brought back to him from Montana.
He then went on to dig up the country's first dinosaur skeleton.
And several years later, Cope would establish himself as Leidy's peer by discovering the second.
By the age of 23 when he meets Marsh.
Cope has published 37 scientific papers.
He apparently could be quite full of himself.
You look at some of his pictures and you just see him like this little bantam rooster.
He had this very intense expression on his face.
There's a picture of him from the 1870s.
And he has this little Van Dyck beard and he just, he has this look like, bring it on, bring it on.
Edward Drinker Cope was even better than O.C.
Marsh at not making friends.
He was somebody who made enemies naturally.
He probably got up in the morning, opened the door, and immediately made an enemy out there.
But when Cope meets Marsh in Germany, they click.
Eventually, both men return to the States, and they stay in touch.
They send each other the articles they publish in scientific journals, and they write letters.
We still have some of Cope's letters to Marsh, or Yale Library has them.
One begins, my dearest Professor Marsh, and ends with kindest regards I am thy friend Edward Drinker Cope.
And in fact, in their very early career, they both named new species of fossils after each other.
Cope discovers a carnivorous amphibian and names it after Marsh.
In this case being associated with an animal and insect-eating lizardy creature is the highest of compliments.
Cope calls the animal Teutonius marshi.
A year later, Marsh returns the favor.
He's studying a type of massive sea lizard called a mosasaur.
And when he finds a new subspecies, he names it... Mosasaurus copaeanus.
So Cope's mosasaur.
In a world where hardly anyone cares about fossils, these two nerds have found each other.
And the field of paleontology is theirs to define.
Imagine what they could accomplish if they joined forces, worked together.
That seems to be the plan in 1868, when Cope invites Marsh on a carriage ride.
They head out to New Jersey to a place called the Marl Pits.
These pits are the best place to find fossils on the East Coast.
They're Cope's main stomping ground.
Naturally, he's eager to show them off to his buddy Marsh.
So the two of them went collecting there and you know, found lots of interesting new things that hadn't been scientifically studied.
This quarry might hold the next great dinosaur discovery.
Marsh and Cope are in the right place at the right time.
And that came the turning point.
Marsh returns to the Marl pits a few days later, this time by himself.
He walks straight up to Alfred Voorhees, the man overseeing most of the digs.
Marsh says to him I know you've been selling bones to Cope, but next time you find a really good one, how about you send it my way?
He slips Voorhees some money to secure the arrangement.
In the following months, Cope starts to notice that he hasn't had any new bone shipments from the Marl pits.
Coincidentally, Marsh is suddenly publishing about all these great new fossils he discovered, without really saying where he found them.
Cope gets suspicious.
He goes to Voorhees and says, did you and Marsh make a deal?
Voorhees denies it, but Cope can't shake the feeling that his friend Marsh has betrayed him.
And of course, once Cope found out about it, he was furious.
And that's when their relationship became too cool.
It's the first fracture in a great friendship.
The following year, there's another.
It begins when a collector sends Cope a massive shipment of bones.
The paleontologist spends months piecing them together, working on this ancient puzzle.
When he's done, Cope finds himself staring at a breathtaking new discovery.
An ancient sea monster.
Imagine an animal where you draw a snake through a turtle shell and then put flippers on it.
It's the kind of monumental discovery that could make someone's career.
Cope has never seen anything like it.
He thinks, maybe this is not just a new species.
No, it's way bigger than that.
Maybe this could be an entirely new category, a new order of dinosaur.
Cope calls the order Streptosauria, which means twisted reptiles because of the animal's unusually long tail.
Cope rushes to publish his findings.
He produces a lengthy scientific paper chock full of detailed lithographic sketches, bringing this twisted reptile to life.
Then, brimming with confidence, he invites his now on shaky terms, friend Marsh to show off this latest discovery.
But when Marsh sees the skeleton, he's skeptical.
It's just too weird looking.
He asks Cope, are you sure you put this thing together right?
Cope is annoyed by the question, and so, to prove Marsh wrong, he asks his mentor, Joseph Leidy, to take a look.
Leidy was sort of a quiet, retiring kind.
He has a reputation for being able to identify even the smallest, most obscure fossils.
This sea monster skeleton is at the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia.
Leidy walks right up to it, looks it over, and pauses.
Something is wrong.
Then it hits him.
The skeleton is backwards.
And Leidy quietly went up, took the skull from the short tail and moved it up to what Cope had thought was the tail and fit perfectly because it was actually the neck and the skull fitted perfectly on the neck.
With the head now in its correct place, the three men realized that it was not a new order of sea monster.
It was just a regular old plesiosaur with an unusually long neck.
Cope is mortified.
Not only has he made a blatant error, he's shown it off to his mentor.
And O.C.
Marsh has seen it too.
And of course, Marsh thought this was grand.
You know, his arch rival had sort of made a major mistake.
And, you know, so he filed this away for future reference.
Cope tries to cover up his mistake, put his head down and get through it.
But his big triumphant article has already been printed.
So he tried to buy up every copy of the monograph that existed, buy them up and destroy them.
But he can't get them all.
In fact, I own one.
You do?
You have it right now in the room?
No, it's in my office.
But it's phenomenal.
So yeah, I've got one of those.
You know who else gets his hands on a copy of this embarrassing monograph?
O.C.
Marsh.
He files it away for a rainy day in case he ever needs some good dirt on his former friend Edward Drinker Cope.
These two paleontologists are now officially... nemeses.
From there on it just got worse and worse and worse.
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It's 1870.
O.C.
Marsh is sitting in his office at Yale University after being named America's first professor of paleontology.
And lately, he's been hearing tales about the West and what bones you can find there.
Dinosaur bones, once they're exposed, are often of spectacular size.
You know six seven, eight feet bones coming out of the ground.
When it rains, ancient dinosaurs seem to raise themselves from under the earth.
The zoo at least called them thunder hoses, because often after really heavy thunderstorms such bones would be washed out because out there you get these incredible downpours.
The bones were right under the surface of the earth.
There was even a story about a prospector stumbling across a colony of ants that had built their home out of dinosaur teeth.
Marsh decides, He has to see this for himself.
So he wrestles up a ragtag group of students and heads out to the wilderness.
Naturally, these guys decide to dress as cowboys.
And they just had a good time.
They would sit around the campfire, tell yarns, maybe in some cases a little bit enriched by local alcohol.
Marsh himself poses as a real frontier man.
He carries a Bowie knife in his belt and hires Buffalo Bill Cody to guide his team through the backcountry.
His persona may have been fake, but the discoveries that he and his team start making are real, like remnants of the first North American pterodactyl and the bones of ancient horses that mysteriously had toes instead of hooves.
Meanwhile, Edward Drinker Cope is also consumed by visions of ancient beasts.
These anecdotes.
Apparently, Cope was so obsessed with fossils that in the middle of the night he would suddenly scream and jump up from his cart and fighting imaginary monsters that had sort of crept into his dreams like he was back in the Cretaceous period or something like that.
Cope goes out west to compete with Marsh for fossils.
He finds the spot where his former friend is digging and sets up a few miles away.
They were apparently sometimes in such close contact that they could have shootouts.
But they're not well documented and apparently no one came to harm.
Cope does try to hire some of Marsh's students to be his spies.
Marsh did the same thing, though.
Marsh tried to sort of attract people who had worked for Cope to work for him.
Cope and Marsh both have teams of men who do most of the actual digging.
And these guys would sneak into the enemy's camp in the middle of the night to steal fossils.
Or they'd bribe railroad station masters to send their rival's shipment of bones to their museum instead.
Sometimes they were caught doing this.
And then, of course, there was hell to pay.
They had to return the shipment.
But many times it apparently worked quite well.
Both teams are finding a lot of new kinds of dinosaurs.
Over 120 by the time this period is over, including a lot we know today.
The brontosaurus, the stegosaurus, the triceratops.
Marsh and Cope are rushing to catalog the finds and outpublish each other.
In some cases, they've found different bones of the same new creature.
And it really matters who's first to name it and introduce it to the scientific community.
Both of them started futzing around with the dates of publication, because the earlier name is always the name that a species gets.
That's the valid name.
So they predated things, postdated things, you name it.
There's even a rumor that when Marsh finishes digging in a quarry and wants to keep Cope away from it, he goes so far as to blow it up.
But it actually turns out that those anecdotes have no foundation in fact.
But that's the vibe.
The vibe is they hate each other so much that they would even blow up a site.
They'd do anything.
Yeah, bribe, steal, you know, shoot each other, you name it.
Actually, it's a miracle that nobody got murdered, at least that we know of.
There is a winner in the bone cataloging competition.
A pretty clear one.
It's Edward Drinker Cope.
He makes up for his previous humiliation with The Sea Monster That Never Was, by publishing more than 1400 articles.
Marsh just can't keep up.
Still, by the 1880s, O.C.
Marsh is flying high.
He's sitting on a sizable inheritance from his now-dead Uncle Peabody.
He's recently been appointed head paleontologist for the newly formed U.S.
Geological Survey.
Charles Darwin himself has written Marsh a thank-you note for finding the fossil of a bird with teeth, which has helped advance Darwin's theory of evolution.
And best of all, Marsh can see that Cope's life is falling apart.
Cope's government funding has dried up.
He has an inheritance too, but it's not as big as Marsh's.
So he decides to invest his money in mining.
He chose something that was very popular in those days, silver mines in the West and in Mexico.
But unfortunately most of those mines only existed in the imagination of the people who were peddling shares in those mines.
And so he lost his shirt, essentially, financially, to these bad speculations.
Cope's wife and daughter end up leaving him.
He's alone, defeated, and angry.
And then, seemingly out of the blue, he gets a letter from the Secretary of the Interior informing him that the US government is seizing his entire fossil collection.
The letter claims that because Cope's early expeditions were financed by the U.S.
Geological Survey, any fossils he'd collected during that time rightly belong to the U.S.
National Museum, which is run by, you guessed it, O.C.
Marsh.
This really drove Cope nuts, to be blunt.
Cope has already lost his house, his family fortune, his wife.
Those fossils were all he had left.
So he cannot let this go unpunished.
So Cope started remembering oh, I have this file of Professor Marshall Smith's haps and you know, shady dealings and all this.
He'd started keeping it after that incident with the backwards dinosaur.
And now he's about to use it.
He describes his plan to paleontologist Henry Fairfield Osborne.
When a wrong is to be righted, the press is the best and most Christian medium of doing it.
It replaces the old-time shotgun and bludgeon and is a great improvement.
And he found a receptive audience in a journalist by the name of William Hosea Ballou, who worked for the New York Herald.
The ultimate headline read, Scientists Wage Bitter Warfare.
In the story, Cope lays out all of Marsh's greatest failings.
The time he misidentified a dinosaur bone as a buffalo horn.
The fact that most of his research was done by grad students, not by him.
Marsh fires back with, of course, the backwards dinosaur.
The public is eating it up.
Dusty old dinosaur bones have become a soap opera with backstabbing and revenge.
People thought this was quite exciting.
You know these sort of ivory tower types battling it out over things that were really as far from the concerns of normal humanity as they could be.
But this all-out academic slugfest has a cost.
A lot of these accusations are true.
And so the press war ruins both the paleontologists' reputations.
They become the laughingstock of academia.
To make matters worse, Congress catches wind of the articles.
Remember, both men's expeditions out West were paid for by the U.S. government.
So taxpayer money is funding this juvenile feud, and some people start making inquiries.
There was a congressman from Alabama where evolution was never a popular concept.
And he had a copy of Marshall's monograph on the toothed birds.
And he said, imagine taxpayers pay for birds with teeth.
Birds with teeth becomes the bridge to nowhere of its day, a stand-in for the idea that the government is spending too much.
The U.S.
Geological Survey cuts its funding to the paleontologists and Marsh loses his government job plus many of his valuable connections in Washington.
This leaves him in a tough spot.
The Peabody fortune he'd inherited is starting to dry up.
He has to mortgage his house, and COPE isn't doing any better.
In 1895, he has to resort to selling off his beloved fossil collection.
A year later, he develops a gastrointestinal disease called cystitis.
It probably wouldn't have been fatal, but he insists on self-medicating with a cocktail of morphine, belladonna and formaldehyde.
So that ended his life, and he died at 57 in 1897.
Cope's funeral was held at the small museum in Philadelphia where he had been living by himself for years.
It was a modest service attended by only six mourners plus Cope's pets, one tortoise and one lizard.
Now it's February of 1899.
O.C.
Marsh, at the age of 69, is nearly broke.
One night, during a drenching rainstorm, he decides to pass on calling a cab and save money by walking home.
He was thoroughly soaked, contracted pneumonia, old people's friend, and died from that in 1899.
And so that was the end to these two infamous characters.
A tragic end of their own making.
If they had behaved differently, they both could have had productive careers without all of this agony.
But it was this odd competition to name things, to get things first that did them in.
I mean, they both lost their shirt financially.
They lost their reputation.
But they did a hell of a job, scientifically speaking.
Between the two of them, Marsh and Cope discovered 1,600 new species of extinct animals.
Their work formed the basis of American paleontology.
Their two massive fossil collections ended up in different museums on the East Coast.
Cope's at the American Museum of Natural History, Marsh's at the Smithsonian, with Dr. Hans Soos.
He still works with those bones today.
I take up a bone that I know was collected by this collective who worked for Marsh.
So it's the old seven degrees of Kevin Bacon, you know.
So here it's like I'm literally one degree from this collector who picked up this bone.
He can trace his academic family tree all the way back to those dueling paleontologists 200 years ago.
Lots of modern scientists can.
And another result of their bitter battle was to eventually put dinosaurs in all their majesty squarely before the public.
Especially before kids.
There's just something about the ferocity of these ancient beasts that gets young imaginations fired up.
As with these kids, who spoke to producer Julia Press.
Have you gone to the museum and seen the dinosaur bones?
Yes.
They'd just come from New York's Museum of Natural History with its larger-than-life dinosaur display.
I like the Triceratops because it has big horns on the front and it's a herbivore, so it doesn't eat other dinosaurs.
And I like the Stegosaurus because of their plates.
And I like the T-Rex because it's a big carnivore.
A really big dinosaur and it's got sharp teeth.
On the count of three, can you guys make a dino noise?
Okay.
I don't know, I think.
I like toy dinos.
Oh, toy dinos?
Yeah.
I got a toy dino at home.
Oh, really?
Do you like to play with it?
Yeah, if you put it on your heart and then you care people.
Oh.
Is it like a puppet?
No.
You kill people with it.
Wow.
That sounds scary.
You kill people.
Thanks for listening to History This Week.
For more moments throughout history that are also worth watching.
Check your local TV listings to find out what's on the History Channel today.
If you want to get in touch, please shoot us an email at our email address historythisweekathistorycom, or you can leave us a voicemail 212-351-0410.
We love hearing from you.
Special thanks to our guest, Dr. Hans Soos from the Smithsonian.
We also consulted several great books in putting together this episode.
Mark Jaffe's The Gilded Dinosaur, the fossil war between E.D.
Cope and O.C.
Marsh and the rise of American science.
Earl Lanham's The Bone Hunters, the heroic age of paleontology in the American West.
And David Randall's The Monster's Bones, the discovery of T. rex and how it shook our world.
Check out those books if you're interested in learning more.
This episode was produced by Rebecca Nolan.
It was sound designed by Dan Rosato and story edited by Jim O'Grady.
Our senior producer is Ben Dickstein.
History This Week is also produced by Julia Press, Morgan Givens, and me, Sally Helm.
Our associate producer is Emma Fredericks.
Our supervising producer is McKamey Lynn, and our executive producer is Jesse Katz.
Don't forget to subscribe, rate and review History This Week, wherever you get your podcasts, and we'll see you next week.
