The Cavalcade of America. Music. Stories portraying the qualities that have guided the American people from the earliest days to the present time. A group of distinguished educators, prominent in the American Historical Association, has cooperated to achieve the spirit of historical accuracy. It is the hope of DuPont that these human dramas will help perpetuate the finest predictions of American life, because these same predictions of service, courage, and hope have always played a vital part in the progress of DuPont. And today, the research chemists of DuPont Laboratories are carrying on in the same spirit, discovering and creating useful products so that the American people may have better things for better lives. From time to time on these programs, our cast will be headed by a notable figure of the stage or screen. Tonight, as this series is inaugurated, it is fitting, we think, that our first great actor should be that distinguished gentleman of the theater, Walter Hampson. You will hear him in each of the two episodes that follow. In the first, as Master Bradford, and in the second, as our South Dakota farmer. Music As you watch the American cavalcade pass in review, you find much that is not pomp and circumstance. A certain doggedness and perseverance, a willingness to stick it out at all costs, is the most distinguished attribute of the American. Let us turn the pages of history to the spring of 1621, to the Pilgrim Settlement of Plymouth, Massachusetts. There we find a little group of men and women who have been gathered together by special order of the leader, Master Bradford. In one corner, a young woman and a young man have drawn a little apart from the rest. I have Master Bradford called us together, Jesus Fools Master Winslow. When I first heard the sound of the drum, I feared it might be Indian. I rushed to snatch pherogrine from her cradle. If there were danger of an attack, Mr. Swythe, the wooden sea captain Standish, resting calmly with his musket, I warrant. Good Master Bradford looked stern and sad. Little enough to make him smile these days. He grieves for his wife, poor Mr. Siddarathy. It was tragic, her drowning two weeks after they landed on these shores. Quiet, quiet please for Master Bradford. Quiet I pray thee. My friends, I have called you from your tasks this morning to speak a message which will shape the future of Plymouth Settlement. For four months the good ship Mayflower has lain at anchor, unable to return to England by reason of the fearful storm and the mortal plague that took off many of its crews. But this morning our master tells me that God willing he will sail four days in. You came to the New World with high hopes. Your faith has been sorely tested these winter months, but fifty-one remain of the hundred and two who came here. Many of you have lost those who were nearest and dearest. If you desire to return, go back to the soft ease of old England. We who are in command will not try to hold you, for God alone knows what awaits us here. Weigh your choice well, for once the Mayflower sails there is no returning for anyone. I have spoken my message. Well Master Winslow. Well Mrs. White. Master Bradford's news seems to have pleased you. Why not? What is there for me here? I am no tiller of the soil. I've tried my best. I've covered a more adventurous life. Is this not a mighty venture? Nay, this is but hardship in a rude wilderness. Surely you will return too, Mrs. White. What is there here for you? You've suffered much and buried your husband here. And borne my child here, remember? Born of the Mayflower near the shores. Then for the sake of that child, you should return to England. This is no country in which to bring up a girl. What chance is there a child in this wilderness? It's scarcely enough to eat. Spring is coming. Soon it will be time for planting. Everyone will be needed. There will be few enough for any planting. Perhaps none. But Edward, this is no time to turn back. We've made friends with the Indians. They've promised to show us how to plant their maize. Soon we will have a harvest. You have a gallant spirit, Susanna, but you're wrong. The Indians have promised. But they won't help us. I'll leave you to think over what I've said. And why are you so interested in my going, Master Winslow? Because I can't bear to leave you in this wilderness. I love you, Susanna. For these many months I've thought of you, long to take you away from this desolation. Master Winslow, I admire and respect you. Once I thought I almost loved you. But Peregrine and I stay here and leave you the wandering venture. But Susanna, if you only knew how long I've loved you. Good day, Master Winslow. But Susanna. I play not with wandering dreams. And come what may, I am holding to this place and purpose. Susanna. Susanna. On the fifth day of April, 1621, the colonists of Plymouth again assemble. This time not in the rude little meeting house, but on the rocky shore of Plymouth Harbor. All eyes are turned eastward to where the Mayflower rides at anchor. The Mayflower is a beautiful flower, a beautiful flower. The Mayflower is a beautiful flower, a beautiful flower. On the shore of Plymouth Harbor, all eyes are turned eastward to where the Mayflower rides at anchor, ready to set sail. On the shore, the captain, Thomas Jones, is bidding a last farewell to Governor Bradford. Well, sir, the tide will be turning straightway. I must soon be pushing off. We'll miss you, Captain Jones. We should go and leave you all stranded here, sir, in this God-forsaken country. The only countries that God forsakes, Captain, are those whose people have forsaken him. I think you, any, will leave with me. That young fellow Winslow, standing by the cliff. Yes. He might go. He's no stomach for grubbing earth. He'd sooner be a sailor like yourself. Mary, with only half a crew and some of them not fit to stand, I could straightway put more hands to the rope. We need more hands ourselves. There's spring planting ahead. Only today a messenger came from the Norseits with seed and promise of aid. My heart is great hope, and I still dare hope that none will leave. May have to be folly, but already I'm proud of our little settlement in the New World, and I must like to see anyone turn back. Aye, I know, like deserting a ship. Well, if you have any to make the passage, I hope they'll hasten. Winslow still seems undecided. He and God must choose his party. I'll roll to the ship and watch for your signal to sail. I'll fire a musket, but first I must give our people every chance to decide. Well, good hope, sir. I trust the next few months will be easier. Well, Master Jones, just a moment, if you please. Why, surely, Mrs. White, have you and your little baby decided to be our passengers? Oh, no, Master Jones, I'm not leaving, but I have a little packet for my dearest friend in London. Would it be too much to ask you to take it for me? It's all superscribed. I will bury it safely, Mrs. White, never fear. And now I must haste and weigh anchor while the tide is right. Now, Godspeed. Godspeed. Godspeed, good Master. All right, push it off, boys. So the Mayflower sailed without you, Master Winslow. Mr. Swyde, you speak to me once more. Since that day at the meeting house when Master Bradford broke the news of the Mayflower leaving, you've scared bad me good morning. Why be feature, Master Winslow? I was angry. Angry because you were leaving. What made you change your purpose? It was Master Bradford talking with the master of the ship. He said, I'd miss like to see anyone turn back. And Master Jones replied, I would be like deserting a ship, but I see it now. Oh, Edward, I too. I want to press on and make a new life here. Susanna, might we not press on together? Take care, there are many people here. They give no heed to us. Their eyes are fixed on the Mayflower. Susanna, Elder Brewster has read the burial service over many of our numbers, but the marriage service never. Men and women of Blymouth. Master Bradford is about to leave. Our good friend the master is at this moment boarding the ship. All sails are set, assigned from me, and the Mayflower will way anchor and turn her course for England. Before I give that time, let me ask you all once more for the last time. Do any of you wish to return? Not too late to change your mind? One word? Last chance, Edward. I've made my choice, Susanna. Then I give the Mayflower the time to sail. How white her sails gleam. Glad I am the sun is shining so fair today. The earth feels warm and rich at last. Look, Teradon. Oh, look, baby. I wish he might stand this morning on her memory. She's looking landward. Right, too. Why look back when there is so much ahead? That fateful day, the pilgrims made their choice and flung defiance at the dark forests of New England. The people to carry on became a cornerstone of American character, and from such people came the power to conquer a continent. Surely but surely, the cavalcade moved westward. After the pioneers came the farmers. Three centuries have passed. It is the summer of 1931. Let us look into the kitchen of a small South Dakota farmhouse. Sarah Winslow is busily preparing supper. I'll give these biscuits just about five minutes more. By that time, your father ought to be here. Mom, I... Yes, Ned? Well, this is July. Anybody who's been canning tomatoes over a hot stove all day don't have to be told that. College opens in September. September 24th, the catalog says. What's the chances, do you think, of my getting to go? Well, it's too early to say yet, son. The summer's started out good. The crops are pretty promising. If nothing happens, I guess your father will be in a position to spare you in the fall. Take on a hired hand, you please. I won't ask for a cent from Dad. What I've saved and what I can earn, I'll get along fine, Mom. Well, we'll see. I don't want to make any promises like we did last summer, and then have to break them. Gosh, what a summer that was. Not a drop of rain for 17 long weeks. I can't even bear to think about it. Waking up morning after morning. See that sun like a great ball of copper. And the crops drying up, shriveling, shrieking for water. Yeah. That's the worst of farming. You work and you worry and you break your back for months. And then along comes a drought or a freeze or a flood or maybe some kind of a blight. And where are you? You're worse off than when you started. I know. And yet we keep on farming just the same. I'm not so sure that I will. When I finish college, I might get myself a job and... Your family have been farmers for generations, Ned Winslow. And I guess you're not going to give it up for any white-collar city job. Why, you're great, great, great. I don't know quite how many greats it was, but... Your grandfather was one of the first white men to plant corn in this country. The Indians showed him how. Yeah, Mom. And his descendants have been planting corn ever since. To be burned up by the sun or rotted by rain or eaten up by pests. What's this you're saying about pests? Your son was just getting in practice for the college debate and team. That's all. Oh, and meanwhile, I like it's not my biscuits that burn to a crisp. Well, as a matter of fact... Now you two get your hands and faces washed. Now I'll have things dished up in the gypsies. Oh, hold on. Wait a minute, Father. What's the matter? You've got a couple of grasshoppers on your coat, see? Oh, don't brush them off in here. Go outside. I don't want the nasty things to start hopping around my kitchen. Hey, there's an awful lot of grasshoppers around lately. Just the last few days. Have you noticed? Yeah. I picked half a dozen of them off my cucumber vines this morning. Why, they were eating the leaves as greedy as anything. They don't eat anything more valuable than your cucumber vines. We'll be lucky. Well, you talked if my cucumber vines didn't matter. We don't depend on cucumbers for our living. My cucumber pickles have taken second prize at the state fair for three years now. And if they don't take first prize this year... Oh, there's one of those pesky creatures under the sink. What of it, Mom? Are they harmless? Not this variety. What do you mean, Dad? Well, these ain't the regular, ordinary variety of grasshoppers that you get every summer. They're a special breed. Yeah, they got a couple of stripes down the back. I noticed that. And an appetite that's never satisfied. An appetite for what? Anything and everything. Tad Sunderland was telling me today they had the same thing in Colorado one summer, about ten years ago. When they got through DeVar and the crops, he knit the binder twine. Oh, Father, I can't believe it. If you don't mind holding supper up for a few minutes, Mother, I'd like to put in a phone call. Oh, everything will get cold. Couldn't it wait until after supper? I want to get a hold of the county agent and ask him what to do about these grasshoppers. Is there anything you can do? Tad tells me they used poison for them in Colorado. Poison? They made up some kind of mash and mixed arse with it and spread it around a field. Nice job for a hot July day. You dish things up and get started. I'll be right back. All right. Come on, son. All right. I see you got cucumber pickle on the table, Mom. We always have cucumber pickles with cold hand. You may not next season, according to Dad. With these grasshoppers, I mean. Oh, I'll protect the cucumber vines. Don't you worry. I'll cover them over so the grasshoppers don't see them. The green color that attracts them. Oh, the grasshoppers will probably all be gone anyway in a little while. Dad's an orphan alumnus, always expecting the worst. The worst has happened so many times, that's why. The drought last year just about ruined him. Here he comes now. Ned, don't say anything to him this evening about college. He's not in the mood to talk about it. I can see that. Well? Well, Father, what did he say? Seems just about every farmer in the country's calling him all of a sudden. To find out how we're going to fight the grasshopper plague. Weeks pass. A cloud of grasshoppers darkens the sun and settles over the fields, leaving them barren of crops and the farmers in desperate poverty. Finally, one hot August afternoon, we find Sarah in her kitchen. Hello, Jane. Oh, hello, Sarah. Just stopped in for a second. We're on our way to the fair meeting up in Jones Field. You going? Yes, just from Zedward and Ned get in. They've been working day and night, scattering poison mags. Mm-hmm. But there's so much ground to cover. Only the two of them to do it. Well, how about your cucumber vines? Were you able to save them? My cucumber vines? Didn't they tell you what happened to them? No. Last I heard, you was keeping them covered with dish towels. You won't believe it, but those grasshoppers ate the vines, dish towels, and all. I can believe it. You heard about the experience the Lindströms had, didn't you? No. You know, the Swedish families at least the old Fuller farm. Oh, yes. What happened? Well, they decided the best way to get rid of the grasshoppers was to send their turkeys out of the field, see them up. Yeah. So they figured it would clean out the grasshoppers and fatten up the turkeys at the same time, see? Well, when the turkeys came back home to roost that night, them grasshoppers had stripped them as bare as if they'd been plucked in your own kitchen. Oh, how can you laugh, Jane? I think it's dreadful. Well, if I didn't laugh at some of the things that's happened these days, Sarah, I'd go crazy. John's so worried sick, can't eat nor sleep. If something don't happen pretty soon, I don't know what we'll do. There's nothing we can do but go on. We can't quit. How does young Ned feel about it? I hear he ain't crazy about farming. Oh, he's all right, but... Well, Ned don't set much store but praying, I'm afraid. He says the only thing that'll bring relief is spraying. Spraying poison in big enough quantities to really kill the pest. Folks pray for rain in the churches and for relief from famine and pestilence. The Lord can send relief for them things. I guess he can send relief for a plague of grasshoppers. Well, folks are waiting out in the car. I better be going. Well, we'll see you at the service. It's only a step for us. Well, walking's better than driving anyway. Why, just coming down the short distance we did, our car got stalled twice. Grasshoppers clogging up the radiator. Well, goodbye. Goodbye, Jane. Hello, Edward. Going to service? Hello, Jane. Yes, we're going as soon as Mother's ready. Well, see you there. Goodbye. Goodbye. I'll be ready in a minute, Edward. Let me get my hat. My hat's hot. I'll be 110 with shade. Weather report over the radio said it was the hottest August 14th in I don't know how many years. Well, it seems hotter when there's no green in sight. Well, I'm ready now. All right. Are you coming to the service, Ned? Oh, well, I suppose so. Won't hurt you any. Well, let's start. Whew. It's even hotter out here. Yeah. By the way, Mother, I saw Mrs. Granister in town this morning. She told me to tell you goodbye. They're leaving? They've left. She said she'd been driven over here to see you before they went. It was all decided so suddenly. Where are they going? Someplace, she says, where there's no grasshoppers or droughts or floods. Then they're giving up farming for good? Looks that way. They show good sense. The rest of us ought to do the same thing. You don't really mean that, son. Sure I do. What's the use of breaking your back and breaking your heart farming? Somebody's got to do it. Somebody's got to plant and cultivate and harvest crops to feed the rest of the world. Your cities are all right and fine. But where would they be without the farmer? Where would they get their bread and their butter and their milk and their other food stuff? A lot of food they'll get from us this year. Look at that field we're passing now, Dad. Just stubble. Not a thing left. There's always another year ahead of us, though. That's the great thing about farming. No matter how bad one season may be, there's always the hope and the chance that the next year will be a good one. Yeah, if you can live till the next year on nothing but hope. We've still got our cows and chickens and a few acres of corn. We're fighting a losing battle, though. What can you and I do, Dad? Scattering poison by hand against billions of grasshoppers. The government may provide aid. The government? They promised help, but where is it? When does college open, son? College? Why, uh, 24th of September. You'd better write and send in your application. Why, Dad? I know how you feel about farming, boy. I know how bad you want to get away. I'd be the last person on earth to try to keep you here. But Dad, I couldn't go and leave you in a jam like this. We can get along. Would you and Mother leave, too? How about it, Mother? Leave the farm? Our lease expires this fall. But why should we leave? Because times are bad. That's no reason. Others are quitting. Not this family. Our folks have been farmers for generations, Father. Yours and mine both. The Winslows and the Morgans. We fought all the things that we've been fighting, and they won out. Well, looks like service is about to start. Oh, my, look at Joan's field. Just a lot of stubble. Why, last year it was waving corn. Now everybody in the county must be here. Seems funny, don't it, to be gathering for prayer in a field? There's no church in the country big enough to hold this congregation. Anyhow, it's more fitting to pray out here. It's our fields that's been laid waste after all. Farmers do have courage. Look, the minister's standing in front of that great wooden cross. Let's stop here where we can see him. All right, we can hear just as well here. Oh, there's poor Mrs. Nardquist. She's crying. Can't blame her. She lost her whole crop. She's only been out here two years. Oh, I must speak to her after the service. Maybe there's a little something we could do for her. I hear she's almost starving. There must be over a thousand people here. And every one dog-tired from fighting grasshoppers. You know, it's funny. A lot of them are worse off than we are. But somehow they, well, they don't look licked. Look, the minister's holding up his hand for quiet. Let us bow our heads in prayer. Almighty God, you must give us praise... You know, Dad, there's something about these farmers all out here, praying. It gets me. There is something in farming, son. I guess that's why your mother and I are staying. I'm staying too, Dad. No, don't you do it. You go to college like you planned. You've already put it off one year. It won't hurt me to wait a little longer. Oh, Dad, I've got some money saved. It's yours, Dad. I want you to have it. Why, why, son? We'll see this thing through together. You and Mom and I. Listen, what's that? Oh, it's a plane, Mom. Just the mail plane. The mail plane ain't due here for three hours. Boy, I can't tell you how I feel. You're saying you'll stick with us. Father, Ned, look! What, King? The plane, look! Gosh, but it's flying low. That cloud that's following us, what is it? Why, why, it's... Poison, Big. It's a government plane scattering poison. Manna from heaven, that's what it is. Our prayers have been answered. Our fields are already white with it. He's flying to Adrenis' farm now. The farm they live. Oh, I'm glad we stayed and that I stayed. God bless you, boys. I knew you'd stay. You're a Winslow. You couldn't turn back. No turning back. The will to carry on. The refusal to give in. This quality has helped shape the course of American history from the days of the pilgrims to the present day. People whose lives have been lost and their lives have been lost are no longer the same. They are the same. They are the same. They are the same. The same as the ones to the present day. People whose names find no important place in history's pages, who quietly did their jobs and asked no credit, no glory. We salute them, heroes of the American cavalcade. Stories like this make us realize how completely dependent we are on our friend the farmer, on his courage and skill and resourcefulness, and what a daily struggle he has to wage, not only against weather and soil erosion, but against the hungry hordes of man's greatest enemies, the insects. Scientists have already classified more than 600,000 different kinds of insects in the world. If nothing were done to fight all these bugs, they could wipe out our whole human race in a single year. So it's a day and night battle that the farmer wages for us, literally a battle for our lives, and chemistry is his most powerful weapon. DuPont, producers of chemical products since 1802, is the farmer's ally, furnishing ingredients to fertilizer manufacturers, explosives with which to remove stumps and stop soil erosion, and plant sprays and insecticides that are used all the way from the orange groves of Florida and California to the wheat fields which are the breadbasket of the world. The aim of these services to American enterprise is to provide better things for better living through chemistry. The leading parts in this evening's episodes, which you have just heard, were played by that distinguished American actor, Walter Hampton. Next Wednesday evening at this same time, Franchotone, one of Hollywood's brightest stars, will appear when DuPont again presents the cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. W-A-B-C, New York.
