In today’s political climate, conspiracy theories are commonplace. But they’re nothing new. In fact, back in the 1960s, there was one organization that built a movement around them. 

The John Birch Society was started by a small group of wealthy businessmen including Robert Welch and Fred Koch. It expanded, with chapters of like-minded Americans meeting in private living rooms and finished basements across the country, fueled by conspiracy theories that caused a schism in presidential politics.

While the Birch Society’s influence has waned, its impact is still felt today.

During the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, millions of desperate Americans abandoned their homes, farms and businesses. It was one of the largest migrations in US history. In the 1940s, Pat Rush’s family were farm laborers, exhausted by trying to make ends meet. So they left Arkansas and followed the hundreds of thousands who had traveled Route 66 to California. There, the federal government had built resettlement camps to help deal with the influx. Migrant stories have two parts: the leaving of an old life, and the building of a new one.

In the spring of 1981, the Pawtucket Red Sox and the Rochester Red Wings met for a minor league baseball game of little importance. But over the course of 33 innings — 8 hours and 25 minutes — the game made history. It was the longest professional baseball game ever played. This story was produced in collaboration with ESPN's 30 for 30. 

Ever since Texas became a state, the Rio Grande has been the border between the U.S. and Mexico. But rivers can move — and that's exactly what happened in 1864, when torrential rains caused it to jump its banks and go south. Suddenly the border was a different place, and Texas had gained 700 acres of land called the Chamizal, named after a plant that grew in the area.

The Chamizal was a thorn in the side of U.S.-Mexico relations for a century, until Sept. 25, 1964, when the U.S. finally gave part of the land back to Mexico. But by that time, roughly 5,000 people had moved to the area and made it their home. This is their story.

This week we're featuring a story we loved from the StoryCorps podcast. 

In 1964, a 12-year-old paperboy from suburban Long Island spent nearly two weeks hiding among the gleaming attractions of the New York World's Fair. His adventure caused a media sensation. But the world only learned half the story.

Hart Island is America’s largest public cemetery—sometimes known as a “potter’s field.” The island has no headstones or plaques, just numbered markers. More than a million people are buried on Hart Island in mass graves, there are no headstones or plaques, just numbered markers. In this special, hour-long episode we're untangling mysteries about how people ended up on Hart Island, the lives they lived and the people they left behind.

When it comes to the space race, we all know names like Neil Armstrong and Yuri Gagarin. But in most moments in history, there are a few names that fall through the cracks. One of those names was Ed Dwight.

When Ed was selected to train to become an astronaut, many thought he would become the first Black man to go to space — but Ed faced some unexpected hurdles. Today on the show, we bring you that story — and a surprising update on Ed's 63-year-wait to go to space. 

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Humanity isn't great at eradicating diseases. But there is one disease that humanity has managed to eradicate: smallpox.

Smallpox was around for more than 3,000 years and killed at least 300 million people in the 20th century. Then, by 1980, it was gone.

Rahima Banu was the last person in the world to have the deadliest form of smallpox. In 1975, Banu was a toddler growing up in a remote village in Bangladesh when she developed the telltale bumpy rash. Soon, public health workers from around the world showed up at her home to try to keep the virus from spreading. This is her story.

Most beauty pageants promote the fantasy of the ideal woman. But for 35 years, one contest in New York City celebrated the everyday working girl: Miss Subways. 

Each month starting in May 1941, a young woman was elected “Miss Subways,” and her face gazed down on transit riders as they rode through the city. Her photo was accompanied by a short bio describing her hopes, dreams and aspirations. The public got to choose the winners – so Miss Subway represented the perfect New York miss. 

Miss Subways was one of the first integrated beauty pageants in America. An African-American Miss Subways was selected in 1948 – more than thirty years before there was a Black Miss America. By the 1950s, there were Miss Subways who were Black, Asian, Jewish, and Hispanic – the faces of New York’s female commuters. 

This episode originally aired on NPR in 2012.

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This year marks 90 years since Claude Ely wrote "Ain't No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down." The song was written as Ely was supposed to be on his death bed. Instead, Ely, known as the "Gospel Ranger," went on to inspire the birth of rock & roll. 

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