The Cavalcade of America. Music In this week's presentation of the Cavalcade of America, brought to you by DuPont, you will hear stories of how Americans have conquered time and distance in speeding up communications with one another. But before these stories begin, we wish to extend our thanks to the scores of teachers and officers in America's schools who have written us to express their enthusiasm for this series of historical episodes, and to tell us that these plays are of unusual interest to students of American history, social science, and dramatics. Many of these instructors have paid DuPont's Cavalcade of America a special compliment by asking if copies of the manuscripts from which these radio dramas are broadcast could be obtained for classroom work. So we have printed extra copies of the manuscript for a recent broadcast which received a great many fine comments. This presentation, entitled the Declaration of Independence, dramatized the events leading up to the adoption of that great document by the American colonies. We shall be very glad to send a copy to any teacher or school official who writes for it. Just address your letter to DuPont, Wilmington, Delaware. In writing, please mention the name of your school and the class you teach. Remember the address DuPont, D-U-P-O-N-T, Wilmington, Delaware. Music This evening's episodes in the Cavalcade of America tell the story of how distance has been shortened and communication made easier. Our cavalcade orchestra sets the stage with a modern American composition on the trail from Ferdy Groffet's Grand Canyon Suite. Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music As you watch the American cavalcade pass in review, you see a people impatient for increasingly faster exchange of thought, no matter how great the distance separating them. In 1850, the 13 original colonies have expanded westward to the shore of the Pacific Ocean, to California and gold. Suddenly in a single year, that sparsely settled region becomes a rich and populous territory clamoring for admission to the Union. It was a long way for news to travel between the Golden Gate and New York Bay, where on a fine spring day, the clipper ship Sea Witch rides magnificently at anchor. Flood tide's beginning to slacken, Captain Fraser. All right, Mr. Delano. Man the windlass and heave short. Aye, aye, sir. Keep away on the windlass brakes. Aye, aye, sir. Drag a light. Dulling an old whaler's brasswork. All off there, sir, we'll be in loose sails. Set roils and sky sails. Leave stacels fast. Clear those instant hangers, lads. Hang on the red shirt later. Aye, aye, sir. Aye, aye, sir. Aye, aye, sir. Aye, aye, sir. The anchor's a peak, sir. Very good, sir. As the boat pull out of the asterisk from the battery, Captain, then pull the force right hardy. That better pull hard. Once the Sea Witch gets the wind in her sails, nothing can catch her but Davy Jones. There's a man in that dinghy waving at us, sir. Yeah, likely he's just one of those legal sharks from some sailor's boarding house. All right, boys, sheet home the topsils. Look out for the tow lines bolting. Heave them down. Aye, aye, sir. Pull top. Overhaul your buns and look alive. Hey, that's solid main sheet. Now long poles on your topsil hangers. The anchor is full, too, sir. Bring her to the rail. Aye, aye, sir. Lord, but she's beautiful, Captain. Nothing fine enough faster up-road, lad. Ahoy, Sea Witch. Ahoy. Aye. It's the man in the dinghy, sir. I want to speak to Captain Frazer. I'm Captain Frazer. Stay alongside. We're getting underway. Now throw him a tow line. Aye, aye, sir. Message from the Secretary of State to the Governor of California Territory. Can you hear me? Very well. Tell him that Congress will admit California to the Union as a free state. Tell the Governor of California that Congress will admit California to the Union as a free state. Very good, sir. Thank you, Captain. Thank you, sir. Cast him off, sailor. Aye, aye, sir. Mr. Delano, brace the yards to the wind. Aye, aye, sir. Run up the gybs, boys. Lively on that business house, little idiots. The lady of the captain's face tackle. Tackle like somebody. All right, you long storm, and hold it tight. Lively. Over all the gear, boys. On the way, sir. Driving hard southward in all weather, past the equator, into the Antarctic winter, the sea witch rounds Cape Horn, carrying every stitch of canvas possible, racing for California, the land of gold and opportunity. And hold! The Golden Gate, Captain Fraser, the Golden Gate. Very good. Well, Mr. Delano, I doubt if many of the ships that left port ahead of us are in before us. Ninety-seven days from Sandy Hook is fast time. Ninety-seven days is the record, sir. Better take good sailing and better luck to beat it, sir. Aye, it's been a good crew. You've got everything out of them. Press the word forward, the company will give all hands a bonus. Aye, sir. Shall I make the longboat ready, sir? Yes, manage with the luscious lads aboard, and have it in the water before the anchor. I've got a message for the governor of the new state of California. Ten years later, California is a great commonwealth, but San Francisco and New York are still weeks apart. It takes almost a month for news to travel from coast to coast. Then on March 26, 1860, the New York Herald carries the following announcement. To San Francisco in eight days by the Central Overland California and Pikes Peak Express Company, the first courier of the Pony Express will leave the Missouri River on Tuesday, April 3 at 5 o'clock p.m. and will run regularly weekly hereafter carrying letter mail only. The first lap of this relay between the Atlantic Seaboard and St. Joseph, Missouri was by telegram. But the line ends at St. Joe's where we find Johnny Fry impatiently waiting for the signal that will start him on the first run of the Pony Express. Oh, whoa, boy, whoa, take it easy. You'll soon have plenty of chance to run. Hey, he's a beauty, Al. You've got him in great condition. Oh, he's got to be in top form, Johnny. Look at the crowd that's come to see you ride off. The mail train's on time. Oh, that's good. Say, you ought to be riding today, Al, instead of staying here in St. Joe looking after ponies. I'm studying to be a telegraph operator, and you can't practice that on horseback. Whoa, boy. Who'd want to? This is better pay. Maybe my job will last longer than yours. The telegraph's got as far as St. Joe already. Yeah, the other end's 2,000 miles away. They'll cut down that distance until you boys won't have any further to ride than across the street there. Well, right now us riders have got to get a lot of words to Carson City. Hold his head up, Al. I'm out and up. Whoa, whoa, boy, whoa. All right, let go, Al. Mailparks must be waiting at the post office by now. Now, wait for the starting signal, Johnny. Maybe the cannon won't go off. I don't want to lose a second. Hey there! Hold that courier! Wait! Who's that? That's the big boss himself, Mr. Russell. Gee. You Johnny Frye? Yes, sir. Here's a message just came in by telegraph from Washington. It's from President Buchanan to the governor of California. Guard it well. With my life, if necessary, sir. Frye, as the first courier westward bound on the Pony Express, I and my partners, Majors and Wardell, wish you good luck and godspeed. It's a real honor to ride for you, sir. There's a signal, Johnny. Let loose his head. Good luck. Good luck, Frye. Thanks. Goodbye. Go, boys. Music Johnny Frye is off on the first run, 75 miles on three horses. Just two minutes allowed for changing mounts. But by loosening the mail pouch before he reaches the station and crossing it to the agent before he dismounts, the time is cut down to 15 seconds. At the division point, the next rider is ready and waiting. Here he comes. Look at that kid ride. Right on time. Here, hold my horse. I'm mounting nothing. All right, here you are. Hello, boys. Hello, Johnny. Whoa, whoa there. How did it go? That wall's well on the road. Here's the mail pouch. Has him catch. Got it. And watch his telegram. It's from the president. Get safe with me. Let go of his head, Hank. Go on. Music On through the wild Indian country by day and by night, ride the daring riders on the fleetest horses America can breathe. As far as Red Butte's division point, where another famous rider is waiting to carry the pouch to three crossings. William F. Cody, better known to history as Buffalo Bill. Here he comes, Bill. He's running late. I'll make it up. Whoa, steady boy. This horse is sure raring to go. You better take my rifle along, Bill. He's in a couple of Indians to the west this morning. The rifle's too heavy. I won't have time to shoot it out with him anyway. That rider looks like he'll tug it out. Looks like he's been in trouble. Never mind me. Grab his horse. I'll take the mail pouch, kid. What happened? Indians. Paraded last station. Stole all the horses. Killed the agents. Easy now, son. Here, I'll help you out on the saddle. Never mind me. Take the mail. This message from the president. I got it, son. Come on, run. Pony, we're late. Look sharp for Indians, Bill. I'll watch it. Music On they ride, often in danger of their lives from raiding Indians and outlaws. The fastest horses money could buy gave the pony express its speed and often saved the lives of its riders. On the first true trip, nine days and two hours after Johnny Frye galloped westward out of St. Joseph, Missouri, a great crowd gathered on the streets of Carson City, Nevada, near the post office and telegraph terminals. Now, what's the matter? What's all the excitement? The express coming out of the east like a comet. Oh, rats, I don't believe it. Just some fool rider coming in from the mine. Does that sound like it? Here he comes. Don't seem possible. Clear the street. Look out for that pony. Whoa, whoa, whoa, wall's falling on the road. Here's your mail. Whoa, boy. Your drawn-a-fish horse ain't still ready to run. Here, there. Where's that telegraph operator? That's me, partner. Here's a message from the president to Governor Downey. Gee, well, I can stay out of my way, boys. Let me get at that wire. Music Speed and endurance of man and beast, courage and devotion to duty, brought the Atlantic and Pacific shores within nine days of each other. But this once marvelous speed soon seems an intolerable delay. In the last month of 1860, Edward Creighton, an engineer, undertakes to survey a telegraph route between California and the Missouri River. On November 15, 1861, the Pacific Telegraph Company completes the circuit, and it is announced to the press of both seaboard. Here comes, Chief, the first message from coast to coast. Who's it from, Al? I don't know yet, but it's addressed to President Lincoln. Gosh, all hemlock. All the way from California quicker than you can wink an eye at a pretty girl. Here comes the signature. Stephen J. Field, Chief Justice of California. And just think, we get those letters the same second they spell them out in San Francisco. Yep, Johnny Fry and those boys did a great job, but I'm afraid this spell's finished for the Pony Express. The American Cavalcade moves onward. Reports of Lieutenant Mowry, who was making a survey of the ocean depths for the United States Navy, showed that between Newfoundland and Ireland, the ocean's bottom was a plateau at no very great depth. Then Cyrus W. Field had vision. A thought came to him, why not carry a telegraph line across the ocean? But his desire to do this was stronger than any cable he could find, as his partner in the venture pointed out. Field, your cable broke twice in 1857 and many times in 1858. Nevertheless, Mr. Blockley, I propose we try again and again until we succeed. Now look here, Field, I've backed you up a dozen times. But all these repeated failures, well, I think we've dropped enough money to the bottom of the Atlantic. We had it working for three weeks in 58. It'll have to last longer than that to get our money back. And I won't throw any more good money after bad. But we've improved our cable. We have better equipment. I'm convinced we can succeed. But if we quit now, we're sure to fail. The whole thing is nothing but a pipe dream. At least give us your opinion on the new plan. I won't even hear them discuss. You're a fool, Field, and a fool and his money are soon parted. That won't include me this time. Good day to you. The withdrawal of the vice president of the company did not stop Field. So we have to use English money and a ship from the Navy of Queen Victoria. The year 1866 saw the successful completion of a transatlantic cable. Again we find Cyrus W. Field in his office. Mr. Field, there's a Mr. Blockley who says he must see you. Field, Field. Well, Blockley, this is unexpected. What can I do for you? If you knew what it cost my pride to come here, but I'm in trouble, desperate. Compose yourself, man. Compose myself? Field, unless I can reach my agent in London before the next package arrives, I'm a ruined man. Well, the transatlantic cable is for everyone's use. But at present rates it would cost me nearly $7,000 to send my instructions. I can't possibly put my hands on so much cash. Well, what do you want me to do? Send that message for me. I'll pay you back twice over in a month. You're sure it won't be sending good money after bad? Please don't remind me of that. I've bitterly regretted my lack of faith in you and the cable. Is your message ready? Yes. We'll send it at once. You've saved my entire fortune. How can I ever repay you? By subscribing to the cost of laying a new cable. American owned and operated. Done, and gladly. But even the telegraph was unable to fulfill entirely the desire for speed. On March 10, 1876, on the top floor of a boarding house on Exeter Place in Boston, we find Alexander Graham Bell with his assistant Thomas Watson. Bell has been making experiments, hoping to be able to transmit the human voice by wire. Watson has built a new transmitter according to Bell's instructions. Now, Mr. Watson, if you'll take this receiver down the hall to my bedroom and fasten it to the other end of the wire. I will, Mr. Bell. Shall I move these batteries first? Are they in your way? No, no, they're all right. Nothing but water and a little acid. And close all the doors between. I want a real test. I won't be long. Now let me see. What will I say? Something that will be a real test. Something unexpected. I think I... All those confounded batteries. Mr. Watson, come here. I want you. Mr. Watson, come here. I want you to get some of that other... Mr. Bell. Mr. Bell, I heard every word you said. Well, but I wasn't testing the instrument. I knocked over the batteries and spilled the acid on my clothes. I was called... But I heard every word distinctly through the telephone. The telephone slowly but surely spread its wire over the country. And soon ways and means were found to send words without the use of any wires whatever by wireless. On December 12, 1901, American newspapers carried a thrilling headline. Ocean Span by Wireless. Then an enterprising reporter reaches Thomas A. Edison. Mr. Edison, my paper wants a statement from you. What about? Marconi's great achievement. In St. John, Nova Scotia, he has received the call signal S sent from Cornwall in England. I don't believe it. He's only experimenting. Pick up calls from transatlantic liners on the Grand Banks 300 miles out. Cornwall is 1700 miles from Nova Scotia. Well, here is the message we got from him. It says, confirm that signals were received here Thursday and Friday, direct from Cornwall. Receiving wire suspended by a kite, signed Marconi. Well, since Marconi has stated over his own signature that he's received the signals from England, I believe him. I think he'll carry it to a commercial success. Great achievement. He's a great experimenter. And that's signed Edison. The very next year, 1902, in Fairmont Park, Philadelphia, an inventor named Nathan B. Stubblefield gave the first public demonstration of an instrument which sent the voice through the air without wires. But fearing to tell his secret to the world until his patent had been granted in 1908, he lost the fame that comes from a claim priority. About this time, Dr. Lee DeForest invented the Audion or Vacuum II, and the modern age of speed and communication is on its way. Invention follows invention at a dizzy pace. In 1915, a message was broadcast from Arlington and picked up in Paris, France, and in Honolulu, 5,000 miles away. In 1930, through the short wave, one voice encircled the entire globe in just one-eighth of a second. And today, words fly instantly from land and sky and sea, from the ends of the earth. This is the Grenley Antarctic Expedition speaking on short wavelength from our base across the south polar continent from Little America. We have just completed a survey of lands never before sighted by man. To the east of us, there is a high… Well, folks, here we are at the good old World Series between the Chicago Cubs and the Detroit Tigers. Quite a moment, folks. It's a great day. The stands are crowded. There's Go-Boy Roe in the box. He's looking for the umpire signal. Attention all cars, attention all cars, signal 32, signal 32, black sedan, last seen headed for intersection number 192, intersection number 192, car license number AYU53. Weather report for the Atlantic coast. Warning, severe storm sweeping down the coast from the northeast. Rain and high winds reaching proportions of a gale expected to extend south of Hatteras before moving inland. Storm signals all along the coast. All train dispatches stand by. Bridge washed out south of Lansing. Telegraph wires down. Stop all trains on Lansing Division. Route all trains to west until further notice. Craig and 34 calling north. Okay, Craig, go ahead. Visibility zero. I'm coming in. You're directly overfield. Wind due east, 20 miles. Circle around and follow your beam in. Okay, here I come. Today the Arabautus is filled with words on every kind of mission. All the quick changing variegated pattern of human thought. And this broadcast itself is a demonstration of the swift pace and far reaching scope of the cavalcade of America. How amazing it is while listening to stories like those just presented to realize what great strides science has made since the days of the Clipper ships and the Pony Express. One of the most swiftly moving of the sciences which are remaking the world we live in is that of chemistry. Research chemists are today's pioneers, exploring nature's secrets, pushing back the frontiers which divide the known from the unknown and the present from the future. Among the countless articles entering into our daily lives are many that no amount of money in the world could have bought just a few years ago. They simply did not exist then, for they had not yet emerged from the test tube. Americans in their forward march of progress are not satisfied with things as they find them. They're constantly seeking products which are better, less expensive, more useful, and more beautiful than those which Mother Nature supplies. So our American chemists take nature's raw materials and combine them into forms better suited to our needs. Through the magic wand of chemistry, coal tar is made to yield gorgeous colors, delicious flavors, delicate perfumes, and important medicinal products. Cotton is converted into lovely toiletware, gleaming finishes, luxurious fabrics, and durable upholstery materials. Minerals are changed into colorful decorations for chinaware. Limestone and coal find their way into a man-made rubber that surpasses the natural product for many purposes. The list of beautiful and useful products which the chemist has built up from simpler raw materials is almost endless. Such products make life easier, happier, and more complete for millions of people, and DuPont is proud that it has been able to play a part in their development. Yet great as they are, even more marvelous things await discovery. Most of us can only wonder what the future holds in store, but the solution of problems that chemists are working on today may make possible articles in common use tomorrow. That is why companies such as DuPont maintain chemical research laboratories, with workers eagerly exploring new possibilities for human betterment and enjoyment. No one realizes better than DuPont chemists that the work of science is far from finished. That explains their constant efforts to fulfill their creed, better things for better living through chemistry. Next Wednesday at this same time, DuPont will again present the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. W-A-B-C, New York.
