The Cavalcade of America, presented by DuPont. This evening, the DuPont Cavalcade pays tribute to another gallant American pioneer, a man whose stubborn tenacity of purpose triumphed over years of heartbreaking failures, carrying him to the fulfillment of a dream. That man was Robert E. Peary, most famous of all Arctic explorers, who devoted 23 years of his life to the achievement of one ambition. His dogged determination has been an inspiration to other explorers and to men in other fields of endeavor. A similar doggedness of purpose inspires research chemists today, driving them on towards the goal expressed in the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. As an overture, Don Voorhees and the DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra bring us a special setting of Jerome Kern's ever-popular favorite from the musical comedy, Oh Boy, Till the Clouds Roll By. Pavel Exact aura nude Memo . . . . . Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Robert A. Perry became an Arctic explorer in 1886 when he was 30 years old. An officer in the United States Navy, he obtained a six month leave of absence. He was interested in the great unexplored waste of the Arctic, especially in Greenland. The maps of that country were vague. He wished to explore it and prove that Greenland was an island. As a preliminary to trips he planned to make later into the great far north, he set out to cross Greenland, a territory practically unknown to white men. With him as a guide, he took a young South Greenlander. The pair encountered a blizzard. Faced by an Arctic gale and blinding snow, they halt their dog teams. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. What's up? It's no use, my friend. We are beaten before we are well started. Looks like it. No let up in this weather. 12 marches and we come only 120 miles about. Come, strap down alongside the sled. We talk about what we better do. Good idea. Ah. Yeah, it does break the wind a bit. Yeah. Now maybe we can hear ourselves think. Now I hate turning back as much as you do. The dogs can't stand much more of this. Without them, well, yeah, if they go on, one by one they die. Then we get harness and pull till it gets us. We go the same way, only slower. Yeah, only slow. That's the way you die in the Arctic. Slow. Too slow. But one nice thing, Perry, my friend, if you die up here, maybe 50, 100, maybe even a thousand years from now, somebody come along and find you frozen in a cake of ice. Some consolation. Yeah. I wonder, is it? I'd probably take you back to civilization and put us in a museum as perfectly preserved relics of prehistoric man. Yeah. If they do that, they'll have to explain away our section. Yeah. And the gold fillings in my teeth. Yeah. Nay. Nay, I think we go back, Perry. But this Arctic, she don't lick us yet. We come back some more, huh? Come back? Yes, I'll be back. Yeah. We'll go across this Greenland yet, by golly. Yes, of course, Greenland, but that's only the beginning. Someday, someday I'm going to lead an expedition to the poles. Music In that howling storm and bitter cold was born a grim determination that was to dominate Perry's life. He and his companion fought their way back to the coast of Greenland and Perry returned to his duties in the Navy. In 1891, five years later, Perry led a small exploration party that proved Greenland was an island. Two years after, he returned to Greenland, this time with his courageous young wife. Their daughter, Marie, was the first white child to be born that far north. She was called the Snow Baby. A long Arctic night is approaching. The ship that is to carry the Perry family back to civilization is ready to leave. Well, there's the captain of the ship blowing for us. Come on, dear, it's time for you to go aboard. I'll carry the Snow Baby. Come on, young lady. You're going home. I don't want to try to influence you. You've made up your mind, haven't you? Yes, dear, I have. You're going to stay here? Yes. You know best. But I hate the thought of leaving you. It'll be so long. A year. More, perhaps. I'll stay with you if you want me to. No, no, you've stood the past year like a veteran with this country, no place for a woman. Besides, we haven't got ourselves to think of. Our little girl can't go on being a Snow Baby all her life. I know. This year in the Arctic hasn't hurt her, but now with a long night coming, no sun at all for nearly six months, it really wouldn't be helpful for her. But you, you want to stay and try again, don't you? Well, dear, I'd like to stay here till spring, get an early start north again. With that big cache of provisions we had to leave on the ice cap, there's a good chance of pushing up to the ice packs. Once there, well, you know my aim. Then stay, bird. I know your heart's set on it and you won't rest until you've succeeded. God bless you and keep you safe, dear. I knew you'd understand. And it won't be so long. Time will pass. You'll have to renew old acquaintances. Marie here will keep you busy, won't you, my little Snow Baby? She certainly will. Well, the captain's anxious to get out before the ice cuts you off, dear. You'll have to go now. Goodbye, bird. Oh, my dear. I hate to leave you here alone. I won't be alone. You and Matt and the Eskimos will be with me. I know. Now I'll feel better knowing they are with you. So will I. Yes, come in. The captain's covered, sir. He thinks we ought to start. Ah, so here. Well, we're all ready. Get Matt to carry that box down to the longboat, will you, sir? All right, dear. Take my arm. Watch the path. Slippery. In a way, I hate to leave all this. It isn't what most people would call a home, but... I just hope it'll still be here when Marie is old enough to come up and see her first home. Well, it probably will be all right. That's one thing about this country. Things last forever. Ah, there you be. I was coming to fetch you, ma'am. I hate to cut short your saying goodbye, but I don't like the way the drift flows are shifting about. The wind swings round to the southwest before we get clear we'll be here for the winter. Well, Miss Perry's all ready. You've not changed your mind, then, sir? Well, we're staying. Matt and you and myself. Well, good luck to you. Goodbye, Matt. Goodbye, madam. I know there's no need for me to ask you to look after the commander. You've been doing it longer than I have. Goodbye, my dear. Take good care of yourself and the youngster. Goodbye, Bert. If you have a chance, give the letter out to me next summer. I'll try. Goodbye, Captain. Good-bye. Bye, and I'll be seeing you next year, sir. All right, ma'am. I didn't forget anything, Captain. I'll show you off. Bye. When you're ready. Goodbye, Bert. Good luck. After a long winter of waiting, the following summer, Commander Perry again led an expedition into the Arctic. But the ice caps had swallowed his food cache, and he with Hugh Lee and Matt Hempson almost perished from starvation. Still, Perry was undaunted. He had set a goal for himself, and with every attempt to reach it, he was gaining valuable experience. A few years later, an expedition he was leading was wintering at Almi Bay. Perry, with some Eskimo, set out on a preliminary trip to Fort Conger on the fringe of the Arctic Sea. On the ship, the Windward, which was their base camp, the members of the expedition, among them Bob Bartlett, are beginning to worry about him. What do you make of it, Mr. Bartlett? I know Perry told us not to expect him back for a couple of months. Here it is March, and he left the first part of December. Eh, it's strange. It might have come back a month after he left, during the full moon. I really expected him last month when the moon was full. It's the only time to travel during the Arctic night. Yes, but aren't you worried about the Commander? No, no. He can take care of himself better than any white man who ever came into this country. He must have gone on to Fort Conger. Greeley's expedition left food there, you know. It would still be in good condition. Well, there isn't anything we can do. No use us sending out a search party for the Commander. It might be any place along a thousand miles across to the north. Say, what's the name the Eskimos call him? Piri-Oxswain. In their language it means the Great Piri. Behind them mean it too. He can get more out of an Eskimo than any white man who ever came into the Arctic. Eh, you know, that caboose of his over there looks mighty lonesome without him. I still can't get used to seeing the caboose of a freight train passing to the deck of a ship. Well, makes mighty comfortable quarters. The Commander says great store by that caboose. Say, listen. Do you hear that? A dog, T. Here's the Commander. It must be. Can you see him? It may be some more Eskimos. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's him, all right. There's Oota. Oota! Where's the Commander? What? Piri-Oxswain here in bed. Frozen? How bad? Just with the knees down. Isn't bad. Here comes Doctor. How about it, Doctor? That's it. The Commander is in his quarters in a hurry. All right, Oota. Drive the sledge right up the gang flank and hurry up about it. All right, now, come on. That's it. That's it. Now give us a hand, Oota. Easy, now, easy, easy. There we are. All right, now open the door. Right over here. All right, Oota. Put him down here. Put him down gently, man. No, easy, does it. Easy, does it. There, there. No, that's it. How's that Commander? Fine. Now I can tell you, it seems good to be aboard. When did it happen, sir? On the trip back? Piri-Oxswain, freeze legs one day before you say Merry Christmas. That's right, Bartlett. It was the day before Christmas. It's a miracle you're still alive, Commander. Yeah, the Doctor's taking good care of me. Well, there wasn't much I could do until we got back here. Tried to keep the circulation going in the legs. I want to examine him again quickly. Cut off his boots, sir. Cut away. Sir, turn over. Merry time. We've come by. I'll be as easy as I can. Go ahead. Have a look at him. My legs. Yeah, there we are. Good heavens, I didn't realize it. Wait a minute, Doctor. You mean you'll have to amputate? I'm sorry, Commander. It's got to be. There's not much time to lose. I'm still afraid gangrene may set in. None of it means amputating my legs, Doctor. I take my chances with gangrene. Well, the legs are all right, but the feet... I won't have it. I'll take my chances. I see. Wait now. Not as bad as I looked at first. The feet are sensitive. The big toes, too. But the rest of the toes... All right. Remove the rest of them. Mind you, I want your word you'll do no more. You have it, Commander. Well, the sooner it's done, the sooner I can strike the tail north again. Commander Perry recuperated quickly from the operation. Six weeks later, he drove his sled dogs again into the great north, but again he failed to reach his goal. Once more, he was compelled to turn back, and his was a spirit that could learn lessons from defeat. With each attempt, he penetrated farther into the unknown Arctic West, and his explorations and discoveries brought him fame. On July 8, 1908, he's ready to sail northward once more, this time in a specially outfitted polar ship, named in honor of President Theodore Roosevelt. The President himself is on board, paying Commander Perry a courtesy visit. Well, I'm greatly honored by this visit, Mr. President. Not at all, Perry. I'm the one who's honored. Now, you're naming this dog with a ship after me. She's a fine vessel, broad-beamed, but no doubt there's a purpose in that. That's more than I can say for my own expanding midriff. Contrary, Mr. President, you look very fit for a man who has to spend most of his time at the desk in the White House. You know, if you were bound for the tropic jungles, I'd say, wait till my term's over in March and I'd go with you. By Joke Perry, I think I know what makes you keep going in the north. It's the challenge of the unknown. And when you succeed, there's the satisfaction of knowing you've added something to the fund of human knowledge. Well, Mr. President, I feel that the true explorer does his work not for any hope of reward or honor, but because the thing he has set himself to do becomes a part of his being. It must be accomplished for the sake of the accomplishment. Believe, Perry. Well, I must be going. Goodbye, Mr. President. Goodbye, Perry. I believe in you. And I believe in your success. Goodbye and good luck. That day, July 8, 1908, Perry sailed for the north. His ship, called the Roosevelt by permission of President Theodore Roosevelt, was the first ever built to withstand the impact of the Arctic ice floes. It was commanded by Captain Bob Bartlett, a veteran of many years' experience in the Arctic, to play an important part in this last Perry expedition. Through 350 miles of polar ice, Captain Bartlett pushed and wedged the ship to Cape Sheridan. There, Perry and his companions, all seasoned Arctic men, make their plans for the dash northwards over the ice. Well, how are things going, Captain Bartlett? First rate, Commander, first rate. Morning, gentlemen. Morning, Captain. Matt finished checking over the sleds and the supplies. Eh? I've been over everything with them myself. Sleds are loaded, ship's shaven ready. Fine. How's the weather? Ah, Perry's workin' in these latitudes. Coals loaded. No telling how much longer. And that's the reason, gentlemen, why I don't feel we can wait any longer. If we're going any farther north this spring. That's right, sir. You're right. Well, since we're agreed, sleds and dogs are ready, I see no reason to delay our departure another hour. Our trial trip show there are no impassable breaks. The leads that are open, we can skirt. Eh? And they'll get no better. Very well. But before we start, gentlemen, I'd like to go over our plan of action once more. Now, once we're on the pack ice, there'll be no time to waste. Speed will be the important thing. And there must be no mistakes. No hitch in our plan. Eh, there won't be. We'll see to that. All right. Let's review our plan. We leave here today in six groups, each of you heading a group. I've picked Matt Henson and four Eskimos to go with me. Dr. Goodsell with three Eskimos, three sleds, 20 dogs, will lead the column and break trail the first hundred miles. Right, sir. He will then leave his supplies on the ice and return to our base camp. Borup will lead the next hundred and turn back. I understand. Now, Marvin will lead to about the 86th parallel, leave his supplies and return. Then Macmillan will carry off. And finally, if all goes well, you will lead us to the 88th parallel, Captain Boss. Aye, sir. Is that plain, gentlemen? Yes, sir. Aye, Commander. And traveling late with those dogs of yours, you'll be sent for a fast dash from there on. Exactly. With you men breaking the trail and carrying supplies to the various depots along the route, my teams ought to be comparatively fresh for the final run. If the plan doesn't work, it won't be from lack of preparation. Well, you men know as well as I do that the Arctic is tricky. It's beaten us before and it may again. Aye, an open lead of water in the ice may keep any or all of us from going on, or worse still, from coming back. Yes, there's real danger ahead, men. Greater danger than any of us have ever been called upon to face before. For the most part, our explorations to date have been on land. There's always a chance of fighting our way back as long as physical endurance can hold out. I know each one of you is equal to almost any physical hardships he may be called upon to face. But once out there on the pack ice, escape may be cut off at any time. And if that happens, you men know what our fate will probably be. Aye, sir, that we do. From the moment we leave this ship, the failure of one may well mean the lives of all. Well, I think I can speak for every man in this cabin, Commander, when I say we're ready, and we'll blast it when we stick it through. Aye, sir, aye, sir, aye, sir. Thank you, gentlemen. Get ready to leave within the hour. And so began a journey unparalleled in the annals of exploration. Up, up towards the top of the world they fought their way, across the sea of treacherous ice crushed and piled in mountainous ridges, and in between the leads, valleys of new ice, a loud warning might open and plunge men, dogs, and sleds into the icy depths of the Arctic Sea. One by one the groups left their supplies as planned. Dr. Goodsell, Borup, McMillan, Marvin. Then seven men raced on, ever northward. Peary, Bartlett, Henson, and four trusted Eskimo. This evening the DuPont cavalcade of America has a surprise for you. No dramatization of an event can be as vivid as the words of an eyewitness. Standing beside me is a man who accompanied Commander Peary on several of his expeditions, and who was the last to bid goodbye to Peary on that last dash to the pole. I'm going to ask him to tell us about it. I take great pleasure in introducing Captain Bob Bartlett. Hearing the story of Commander Peary this evening wakes stirring memories. They take me back to that day when I left Peary, close to the 88th meridian, about 130 miles from the North Pole. It was a fine, clear, calm day, about 32 degrees below zero. Moreover, everything seemed auspicious. Peary was now within easy reach of the pole, and the last march that we had made together he had taken over us big-level flows. The Eskimos were confident and happy. The moon was on the way in, making the chances of bad weather and strong tides less and less each day. Peary had the pick of the dogs, the sledges and the Eskimo, and grubbing off from us. After making the observation, I gave him a copy, keeping one for myself. We loaded up our sledges, and then we had some tea, hemiquan and a few biscuits. As I shook Peary's hand, I felt sure that he wouldn't eat again back at the ship. I was pretty certain that he would reach his goal and return safely. I shook each of the Eskimos by the hand and laughing said, North Pole, Emongwa, Taima, that is, North Pole, not far away. Then we were off southward to our ship. Our job was to keep open our trail so that Peary would have easy traveling all the way back. Owing to his marvelous judgment and experience, his return from the pole over our trail was fairly easy. He arrived on the glacial fringe near Columbia on April 23, and Uta remarked, The devil is asleep, or having trouble with his wife, or we should never have come back so easily. Peary was a happy man, and when he finally reached the ship, he told us how he had reached the pole, made his observations, planted the American flag, and left a notice in a bottle. That was 28 years ago yesterday. Perhaps you would like to know just what the notice was. I'll read it to you. Ninety degrees, north latitude, North Pole, April the 6th, 1909. I have today posted the National End Sign of the United States of America at this place, which my observations indicate to be the North Polar Axis of the Earth, and have formally taken possession of the entire region and adjacent for, and in the name of the President of the United States of America. I leave this record and the United States flag in possession, signed Robert E. Peary, Commander, United States Navy. Thank you, Captain Bartlett. It is for this accomplishment that we are proud to honor the memory of Robert E. Peary by adding his name to the roster of immortals in the cavalcade of America. It isn't often that we're able in these DuPont cavalcade programs to present one of our historical characters in person, as we have tonight with Captain Bob Bartlett. Since 1897, when he got his first polar experience on Peary's ship Windward, Captain Bartlett has returned to the Arctic regions 42 times. About 20 years ago, he began taking his own sturdy ship, the F.E.M. Morrissey, on scientific and educational expeditions. Perhaps you wonder where chemistry fits into this picture of Arctic exploration. An important chemical achievement of recent years was the discovery of the new type finish DuPont now offers under the trademark Dulux, a product created to fit a need. The story of Dulux started when DuPont chemists sought a finish that would withstand the most severe conditions of use. In their efforts to formulate such a finish, they developed an entirely new chemical compound, a synthetic resin unlike anything ever known before. That vehicle, together with a different type of pigment, produced this remarkable enamel. One valuable use for Dulux finish is on boats, where finishes have to withstand many destructive forces. Part of the testing of Dulux marine finishes was done by Captain Bartlett. Panels coated with Dulux were rigorously exposed to strong cold winds, dense fog, salt spray, and sudden extreme variations of temperature. All these forces of nature destroy ordinary paint and varnish, but the panels finished with Dulux enamel came through without any injurious effects whatever. Today, Dulux protects and beautifies boats ranging in size from small pleasure craft to giant ocean liners. More than three million household refrigerators, as well as many other household items, gleam with this durable finish, which gives such sturdy service for years. And virtually all the modern streamlined trains are finished in colorful coats of Dulux. Such development work in the field of paints and finishes is another example of how DuPont research chemists are constantly creating for their fellow men, improving existing products of daily use, developing new ones, aiming always at the objective described in the DuPont phrase, better things for better living through chemistry. Next week at this same time, DuPont again presents the cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
