In 1925, Tennessee passed a new law called the Butler Act that prohibited teaching that man was descended from lower animals, i.e. human evolution. (Ironically, it was okay to teach evolution as it applied to other animals.)

In Dayton, Tennessee, a group of fellows gathered daily to argue about various issues and one participant, George Rappelyea, thought it would be a wonderful thing for Dayton to host the inevitable trial challenging the new law, Chattanooga having already declined that honor. The ACLU had been running ads in local papers looking for someone to test the law.

John T. Scopes, a new teacher was quickly called off the local tennis court and asked if he would be willing to become the "guinea pig." He agreed ("the best time to scotch a snake is when it starts to wriggle"), even though he was not the regular biology teacher. The required textbook, consecrated by the Tennessee Board of Education, was used in the local Dayton schools and contained an entire chapter on evolution. The chairman of the local school board, owner of the drug store, immediately called a Chattanooga paper to announce the arrest of Scopes for having taught evolution. Scopes then went back to playing tennis. It was all a big joke.
In 1966, Scopes wrote his memoirs, Center of the Storm which provide truly delightful anecdotes about the people and the times of one of the most famous trials of the 20th century.

For example, Mr. Bailey, the man Scopes boarded with in Dayton, fetishly collected stubs of pencils, no matter how short. The reason why only became clear to Scopes one Sunday morning when, during an interminably boring sermon, Scopes caught Bailey throwing the pencil stubs at sleeping parishioners.

The trial attracted the attention of many famous people. H.L. Mencken came representing the Baltimore Sun, Dudley Malone and Clarence Darrow represented the defense, and of course, William Jennings Bryan, thrice candidate for the presidency, arrived to "defend the Bible" (his words). Until Bryan's entry into the case, the issue had been the law's constitutionality only. In fact, the ACLU wanted to have the Scopes case moved to the federal courts. Bryan's entry and position made that impossible; however, it was great for Dayton.

Popular myth attributes the greatest speech at Dayton to Darrow, but Scopes proposes that it was Dudley Malone, former friend and staffer for Bryan, who provided the most brilliant oration, one that Bryan realized did him damage and made him determined to take the stand to recoup his losses. Once on the stand, Darrow then proceeded to demolish Bryan, catching him in numerous contradictions and foolish statements. It was during that interrogation that Bryan even lost the support of Fundamentalists, as Darrow pushed him into admitting that a "day" in Genesis might indeed have been 6,000,000 years long.

Scopes is very kind to Bryan in his memoirs. He was a peerless speaker who, had he had television at his disposal, might have succeeded in his quest for the presidency. By 1925 he had outlived most of his causes, though, leaving only Fundamentalism. On the stand it became obvious, under Darrow's relentless questioning that Bryan had not thought deeply about any of his professed beliefs nor their ultimate validity.
Scopes left Dayton to do graduate work in geology on a scholarship provided by the expert witnesses who were to have testified at the trial. As recently as 1960, Tennessee teachers still had to sign a pledge that they would not teach evolution. ( )

Scopes writes about his life, with most of the book spent on his famous trial in Dayton, TN, and the battle between the two titans, Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan. A good look inside one of the most famous cases, and a case that had a lasting (and negative) impact on science teaching around the country, as science teachers and textbook publishers avoided the topic of evolution. ( )