The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont. We welcome you to the first program in the fall and winter series of The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont, dramatizing historical episodes of American life. This evening we present the story of that colorful character, daddy of the American circus P.T. Barnum. Bridgeport, Connecticut, long the headquarters of Barnum and Bailey's Circus, knew him also as the giver of a great park and in various other ways as a philanthropist. By way of tribute, Bridgeport in celebrating its centennial this year, placed Barnum's likeness on the special centennial coins. The spectacular nature of Barnum's life is a strong contrast to the patient lives of the research chemists, yet they also contribute mightily to the happiness of all of us. Everywhere you find evidence of their success in providing, as DuPont expresses it, better things for better living through chemistry. As an overture, Don Vorez and his orchestra play a selection from the musical spectacle Jumbo. To all Americans, there is glitter and glamour and magic in a simple name P.T. Barnum. Tonight we present high spots in his colorful career. This most typical of Yankees left his native Connecticut in the year 1835 at the age of 25 to seek fame and fortune in New York. His first business venture was a partnership in a grocery store where we find him talking to Mrs. Barnum. The future is gleaming with hope, Mrs. Barnum. Our fortune is made. In one year you'll be dressed in fine silks. I made a remarkable purchase in Philadelphia. I suspect you, Phineas. Did you buy more useless Jim Cracks we'll never be able to sell in the store? I bought a Negro slave 160 years old. You, you, you did what, Phineas? Wait till you see her, Charity. She looks like she's a thousand years old. She's blind, both legs are doubled up. She's got thick bushy hair. Her fingernails are four inches long. Oh merciful heaven. She can't move but one arm. The other's stiff and listen closely, Mrs. Barnum. She's the one who raised George Washington from a baby. Now Phineas. I have the original bill of sale in Mr. Augustine Washington's own handwriting. Her name's Joyce Heff. Oh, I, I don't understand you, Phineas. You, you paid real money for this, this creature? She'll make our fortune, Charity. I've been thinking for some time. I ain't in my natural sphere in a grocery store. Oh and what prey might your natural sphere be? I'm gonna be a showman, Mrs. Barnum. The public wants to be amused. And I'm gonna be the man to amuse them. May I ask you, Phineas, how much money you paid for this unspeakable horror? Ah, Mrs. Barnum, I was hoping you'd ask that. I made a sharp trade. Mr. Lindsay wanted $3,000. What? But I persuaded him she was only worth $1,000. Phineas Taylor Barnum, you haven't a penny in the world. And we need flour and sugar and molasses for the store. Now honey, I was coming to that. You need never worry about the store again. I sold my interest in it. Do I hear you right, Phineas? You sold your only means of livelihood to buy that horrible creature? Yes. The store brought only $500, but I found the gentleman who was kind enough to lend me the other $500. Now all I need do is engage a haul, exhibit this aged creature, and my fortune is made. And thus began P.T. Barnum's career as a showman. Crowds flocked to see the shriveled negros who prattled of dear little George Washington. For several months, his profits exceeded $1,500 a week, but inevitably the novelty wore off. Our scene is Barnum's exhibition hall in New York. The embryo showman and his recently engaged assistant, Levy Lyman, are standing near the entrance. Well, I'd best give you my week's notice now, Mr. Barnum. Your notice? You're not leaving me, Lyman? You don't need me, Mr. Barnum. The public has lost interest in Joyce's house. You can't draw water out of a stone. Will you take the word of P.T. Barnum that this hall will be packed tonight? Facts are facts, Mr. Barnum. Every man and woman who wants to see the creature has seen her. You're a shrewd man, Lyman. You ain't afraid to contradict me. That's why I hired you. But I'll guarantee that things will be different tonight. And speaking of business, it's time to open the doors. I'll open them, but it's scarce worth the trouble. Mr. Barnum, do you see the crowds? I can't believe it. This way to see Joyce Hathaway, the 160-year-old slave who raised George Mayman. I've been here before, young man, but this time I brought my new spectacles. Where's that Baker Barnum? 160-year-old slave, eh? I'll learn the truth of this tonight. Did you bring that letter we clipped from the newspaper, Martha? It's right here. It says she's made of Indian rubber, whalebone, and is set on free. How does she talk? I'd have swore she was human. Well, they do say the man that exhibits her is one of them ventriloquists. The men and women of the city see that. Don't cry. There's plenty of women in the city. I'm not a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. Well, there'd better be. This time I won't be fooled. Hey, let's stick a pin in her. We'll soon find out if she's human. Do you hear her, Mr. Barnum? Is that anonymous letter the papers printed today saying Joyce Hath is not a human being? Did you see it? Yes, I saw it. We'll have to send hundreds away. Why, that letter turned the tide. Boy, you're a lucky man, Mr. Barnum. Nah, no luck about it. When I saw business was failing, I wrote that letter myself to stir up discussion. And Lyman, it succeeded way beyond my hopes. Barnum's first publicity stunt was an unqualified success. As a result of that letter to the papers intimating that Joyce Hath was not a human being, violent controversy arose in every city in which she exhibited her. And before she died, Barnum had amassed a respectable fortune. But in three successive business ventures, he was swindled. And in the year 1841, at the age of 31, Barnum was once again penniless. The scene, the office of one of New York's real estate men, Mr. Francis W. Olmsted. That man is here again, Mr. Olmsted. Eh, what man? Eh, Mr. Phineas T. Barnum, sir. Well, why don't you send him away? He has some proposition he wants us to consider. Tell him to write me a letter. I have, sir, but he says he must state his business in person. He, he's most persistent without being offensive. And he's brought these letters from Mr. Moses Y. Beach of the Sun and from Mr. Nibbler. Well, why don't you tell me? Mr. Beach is a friend of mine. Let me see. Eh, none like Beach, none like him at all. He says Mr. Barnum is incunious but honorable. He is destined for success. Hm, strange letter. Very strange indeed. Well, why are you standing there? Show the man in. Eh, yes, sir. This way, Mr. Barnum. Mr. Olmsted will see you. Mr. Olmsted, I'm Phineas T. Barnum. I've come to propose a plan which will make money for us both. Interesting. I shan't waste words, Mr. Olmsted. You own the American Museum building in which Scudder's collection of curiosities is housed. Yes. I want to buy that collection. I understand it's for sale. I've already been offered $15,000, Mr. Barnum. I don't believe you possess that amount. At the moment, I'm not possessed of one silver dollar. I fail to understand how... I ain't surprised. Let me explain. I've come to ask you to buy that collection in your own name. What's that? And to give me a note stating that the collection is mine, provided my payments to you are made promptly. Most amazing. And if at any time I fail to meet the installment on the day it's due, I'll vacate the museum and forfeit every penny I've paid. Mr. Barnum, in all the years in which I've engaged in business, this is the most amazing proposition that has ever been presented to me. It is amazing. I'm proud to have thought of it. You admit you haven't a penny, Mr. Barnum. Had you considered offering me any security? My word is my security, Mr. Olmsted. Yeah, just why do you think you can succeed with that worthless collection of curiosities when Scudder has failed? Ah, because I've discovered the value of lights, skyrockets, brass bands, publicity. That museum is a liability to you now. No one will buy that collection or rent that building because no man in this city knows what to do with it but me. You have the word of P.T. Barnum that you can't fail. Mr. Barnum, I have never lost or won a penny at gambling. It's against my principles. I, uh, I may be a fool. I am positive I'm a fool but I'm going to gamble for the first time in my life. I'm going to take a chance on a man I never met until today. I'm going to accept your incredible proposition. Within one year, Barnum's American Museum had become so successful that he repaid Mr. Olmsted the full $15,000 with interest. His most sensational exhibit in the museum was his midget whom he dubbed General Tom Thumb. And in the year 1844, when Barnum was 34 years old, he embarked with a little general for England resolved to bid for European success. We find Barnum and Tom standing nervously in the ante room at Buckingham Palace waiting to be ushered into the presence of Queen Victoria. Mr. Barnum, please tell me again quick what am I supposed to call the Queen? Your Majesty. Your Majesty. You don't forget that, Tom. When you go in, say, good evening, Your Majesty, and lords and ladies. Good evening, Your Majesty, and lords and ladies. I try to remember but I'm mighty scared, Mr. Barnum. So am I. Oh, but shucks. They say the Queen's a nice motherly lady just like, well, just like your own mother, Tom. Quiet. The doors are open. Your Majesty, Mr. Phineas T. Barnum from America and the midget, General Tom Thumb. Oh, my hand, Mr. Barnum. My knees are shaking. Say good evening, Tom. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Good evening, General Tom Thumb. Won't you come closer so that I may talk with you? I forgot. I was supposed to say, Your Majesty, I'm most awfully sorry, ma'am. Oh, I'd much prefer that you be natural, General. Are you enjoying your visit to England? Yes, ma'am. I mean, Your Majesty. How tall are you, General? 28 inches, ma'am, and I weigh 15 pounds. Most people want to know my weight, too, do you? Well, yes, I had meant to ask that. Thank you. Is your famous general full grown, Mr. Barnum? Yes, ma'am. Your Majesty, he's full grown and in perfect health. Jiminy, I forgot, ma'am. I was told not to talk direct to you, but to this gentleman. Well, we'll dispense with court etiquette, Mr. Barnum. I'd like you and the general to be quiet at ease. I'd like to meet the little Prince of Wales, ma'am. I'm sure he would like to meet you, General. If Mr. Barnum would be so kind, you must visit us again in the daytime when the children are awake. It'll be a pleasure, Your Majesty. Now, would you sing a song for me, General, before you leave? Yes, ma'am. What would you like to hear? Oh, a song of your own choosing. Well, I like Yankee Doodle better than any other song. No, no, not Yankee Doodle, Tom. Anything but that. No, please, Mr. Barnum. Let him sing whatever he chooses. Shall I sing right now, ma'am? Yes, please. Yankee Doodle came to town riding on a pony, stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni. Yankee Doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy. Mind the music and your step and with the girls be handy. Excellent. That was excellent, General. I venture to say that this is the first time the song of your American Revolution has been heard in Buckingham Palace. And in truth, it is a spirited song. You have been most kind, Your Majesty. The General is delighted for Mr. Barnum. We shall hope to see you again before you leave England. Thank you. Goodbye, General Thompson. Goodbye, Your Majesty. I had a very nice time. Do we really truly have to walk out backwards, Mr. Barnum? Hush, hush, Tom. Here, I'll take your hand. Just walk slow. We'll be outside in a jiffy. Mr. Barnum, Her Majesty wishes to present this snuffbox to General Thompson as a memento of his visit. Thank you, sir. Why, why it's gold, Mr. Barnum. Solid gold. Ah, it's all over, Tom. You've had an audience with Queen Victoria. Mr. Barnum. Yes? I'm Everett, the American ambassador. How do you do, Mr. Everett? How do you do? I've been planning to look you up. I want to congratulate you. The Queen is captivated by Tom Thumb. Your success throughout England and Europe is assured. Remarkable that you received you. I sort of thought she would. Well, there have been other midgets in England. I don't understand why she made an exception in your case. Well, there may have been other midgets in England, but there's never been another P.T. Barnum. Quite true. It came about this way, Mr. Everett. I received the Queen's invitation only after I'd sent word to her that I was leaving England immediately to show Tom Thumb to Louis Philippe, King of France. Oh, yes. The cavalcade of America presented by DuPont moves on. By the time Barnum was 39 years old, his American museum had become a national institution, but he sought new worlds to conquer. The date is September 11, 1850, the scene Castle Garden in New York, the occasion, the American debut of the Swedish nightingale Jenny Lind. It is a critical moment in the life of Barnum. Jenny Lind is opening her recital. Barnum is pacing the floor in an offstage room as his manager Greenwood enters. Mr. Barnum. Oh, that you, Greenwood. Come in. I don't dare listen. How are they receiving her? Well, it's too soon to say, P.T. I couldn't stay out there. I'm too nervous. How's she getting on? Well, the crowd's frightened her. 5,000 people. You could scarcely hear her first few notes. What? Stage fright? Oh, she sounded better after a minute, but I'm no judge of voices. How's the audience? Quiet? You could hear a pin drop. Wilson and Burns and all the other bankers who refused to lend you money, they're out there with their wives. I ain't surprised. They come to gloat. It's not often they can see a man lose $187,000 in one night. I hate to think of it. You've mortgaged everything to bring it to America. Mighty peculiar, ain't it, Greenwood? I'm gambling my entire fortune on one song. Oh, will she ever finish? Mind opening the door a crack? I can stand it if you can. Greenwood, listen. Say, that's the most beautiful voice they've ever heard in America. Well, let's pray the audience thinks so. She must be getting ready to go. I'm sure she will. I'm sure she will. I'm sure she will. Well, let's pray the audience thinks so. She must be getting near the end. Shall I close the door, P.T.? Yes, my opinion don't count. But I didn't know she could sing like that. Greenwood, I've learned a valuable lesson tonight. I deserve to lose my fortune. There can be such a thing as too much publicity. Suppose they take a dislike to her voice because I told them she's wonderful. It ain't fair to Jenny. Why, she sings like an angel. Open the door. Listen, P.T. Open the door. Say, are they throwing things at her? I'll go and tell them. Mr. Wilson. Well, I'm surprised to see you here. She's magnificent. Mr. Barnum, Mr. Barnum, they're calling for you. She's a success. They're shelling themselves forth. Women are bringing bouquets to the stage. Castle Gardens never sings like a triumph. You mean they like her? Yes. Are the American people really curing a concert singer? They certainly are. She sings like a lark. A nightingale, Mr. Wilson. Well, nightingale then. She's wonderful, Mr. Barnum. I'll offer you $100,000 for a half interest in Jenny Lynn's American tour. What? You, Mr. Wilson, who laughed me out of your office when I tried to borrow that last $5,000? Mr. Barnum. You, who told me the public would never pay a penny to hear a concert singer? I offer $200,000, Mr. Barnum. I was wrong, I admit it. Listen, listen, listen, BT, you must make a speech. They won't let it go on with the recital till you appear. I'm coming, Greenwood. As for your kind offer, Mr. Wilson, I decline. No one was willing to share the risk of this venture, and now no one will be permitted to share the triumph. It's all mine! Jenny Lynn was the first European concert star ever to venture into the United States. As a result of Barnum's pioneering efforts, new and larger music halls were built in the principal American cities, and distinguished vocalists followed Jenny Lynn's example in touring the country. P.T. Barnum, Prince of Showman, made a contribution of inestimable value to the cause of good music in the United States. But it was not until P.T. Barnum was 58 years old that he conceived the organization which was to give him lasting fame, the first touring, traveling circus, and menagerie. And during his 40 years as a showman, he had not been threatened by a serious competitor, not until the year 1880, when he was 70 years old. We find him in his office in Madison Square Garden, and he is not in a placid frame of mind. The faithful Greenwood is with him. Yes, I must have that elephant in its mother, Greenwood. Every newspaper in this country's shouting about the first baby elephant born in captivity. Why couldn't one of your elephants have had a baby? That's what I keep asking myself. Where is this man, James A. Bailey, who thinks he can run a rival circus? Why don't he answer my telegram? No, don't worry. He'll accept your offer, P.T. Then he'd be a fool not to. I figured I was a fool offering him 100,000 in cash, but I want that elephant. I can't eat, I can't sleep till I hear from him. Come in, come in. Miss Barnum? Yes, who are you? I'm busy. I don't want to disturb you. My name's Bailey, James A. Bailey. What? You're Bailey? Come right in. Did you get my telegram? Did you bring your elephant? Mind you. I want the mother, too, for that 100,000 dollars. Miss Barnum, you didn't think I'd sell them, did you? You... you're refusing my offer? I'm not only refusing, I've done more than that. What are you talking about? You're a great showman, Mr. Barnum. You've invented all the tricks of the trade. We younger men do our best, though. I brought along a hand-builder to show you. I've been distributing them to my patrons. I thought you'd be interested. Let me see it. What... what's this? Shall I read it to you? See, here's the caption. This is what P.T. Barnum thinks of our baby elephant. You... you... And underneath, I printed your telegram in full. Your wire offering me 100,000 dollars for our baby and its mother. I'd like to shake your hand, Mr. Bailey. At last I've met a foeman worthy of me. I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Mr. Barnum. That's why I came to turn down your telegram in person. Mr. Bailey, I've got an idea. A remarkable and tremendous idea. A remarkable and tremendous idea. Yes? It appears to me that when two real showmen meet, two superlative showmen, they ought to be partners, not rivals. What do you mean? What would you say, Mr. Bailey, to form a partnership with me? It's an idea. A startling idea. It's growing, Bailey. It's growing. If you and I were partners, I'd guarantee that we could produce a stupendous circus. Can't you imagine it? Three rings, four stages, two peas and flat-wire acts all going at once, and a galaxy of clowns. Fifty! Count them! Fifty! How does it sound? Tremendous. Well, will you do it? I... I believe I will. Let's shake on it. To the greatest show on earth, of Barnum and Bailey's Circus. And so in his 70th year, P.T. Barnum reached the climax of his spectacular career and set a mark in showmanship that has never been surpassed. Speaking of circuses, it's interesting to note that a chemical development of some years ago actually saved the life of many an elephant. Here's the story. At one time, thousands of jungle jumbos were sacrificed to satisfy the feminine love for ivory toilet accessories. Herds dwindled, and ivory grew scarce and increasingly expensive. Then the research chemist introduced a product known as a cellulose plastic, which could be molded and shaped into almost any form. It could be produced not only in an ivory-like finish, but in many beautiful colors as well. While only a few could afford the luxury of ivory, millions of women found pleasure in beautiful sets of toilet ware made from the new product. DuPont produces this material under the well-known trademark pyrrolein. Pyrrolein can be made into objects of almost any shape, design, surface effect, or color. In transparent form, sheets of pyrrolein are sandwiched between sections of plate glass to make safety glass. Pyrrolein also is made into barrels for fountain pens, into toothbrush handles, handbags, and even scuffless heels for women's shoes. A companion DuPont plastic, sold under the trade name Plastaseal, is also used in making a wide variety of useful products. These plastics have made sensational progress simply because they are better for many purposes than natural materials. And because the chemist used cotton linters, the short fibers from cotton seeds, as one of the raw materials, an important new market was opened to cotton growers. In making these and other cellulose products, DuPont uses 36 million pounds of cotton linters every year. This represents the yield from 2,175,000 acres of cotton. The discovery and development of pyrrolein, Plastaseal, and other widely used plastics is another example of how research chemistry touches the daily lives of us all and gives meaning to the DuPont phrase, better things for better living through chemistry. Music Next week, the cavalcade of America presented by DuPont will bring you two vivid stories showing that willingness to help others, is an outstanding trait among Americans. One of these dramas tells about America's first plane nurses, and the other is an interesting tale of the work done by the Travelers Aid Society. Music This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Music Applause
