The Cavalcade of America, presented by DuPont. This evening the Cavalcade of America brings you the story of a woman who went down into darkness that she might bring another into light. Anne Sullivan Macy takes rank among the foremost educators, but her work was a labor of love, and she found her reward in aiding her beloved pupil, Helen Keller, who knew her only as teacher. Many people who find the brief stories of chemistry on these broadcasts interesting and instructive have asked for more information about these achievements of science. To satisfy this demand, DuPont has prepared a 32-page booklet, illustrated in color, called Chemistry and You. You can obtain a copy free of charge by writing Radio Section, DuPont, Wilmington, Delaware. If you haven't done so already, be sure to send for this fascinating booklet on how chemical research works to provide, as DuPont expresses it, better things for better living through chemistry. As an overture, Don Voorhees and the DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra play The Song is You from Jerome Kern's operetta, Music in the Air. The DuPont Cavalcade moves forward. Born April 14, 1866, Anne Sullivan's life had its beginning in darkness and poverty. Blind and abandoned, she was for several years a public charge in an institute at Chooksbury, Massachusetts. Conditions there were hard, particularly for a child. Finally, an investigation was ordered by Dr. Samuel Gribley Howe, Chairman of the Board of Public Charities. And as our story opens, a committee is expected to visit the Arms House. Young Anne Sullivan, tremendously excited, stumbles blindly about on the heels of Maggie Hogan, who is in charge of the war. Say, then I've told you all I know, Annie. Now leave off asking and let me get something done. But are you sure, Maggie, that today's the day? Today's the day, and Frank B. Sandman's the man who's coming. And if there's a person under the stars that can help you, Annie, he's the one. You think he could really get me out of here? He could, that is right. Yes, but where'd I go? I can't go back to the Sullivan's, Maggie. They'd only send me back here again. I can't work being blind. Can't read or do songs. There's schools where folks like you can learn to read. And Mr. Sandman knows all about them. He's on one of them board things. You mean you can learn to read and things without seeing? That's what I'm telling you. And if you can let this Mr. Sandman know how much you want to learn too, maybe he'll do something for you. Don't be telling Annie that, Maggie. They'll never let Annie out of this place. Ain't I been trying to get out for years and years and they won't let me out? They don't let our kind out, ever. I ain't your kind, Tilly. Am I, Maggie? No, Annie's different. If she can just get to Mr. Sandman. Don't be alone, Annie. You couldn't do nothing if they was here right now. She could tell him right out that she wanted to get away from here. That she wanted to learn so she could understand things. Would I dare? Sure you'd dare, ain't you, Irish? Oh, bless me. If they ain't here now, Annie is the committee, the visiting committee. And yes, Mr. Sandman's with them. Oh, Maggie. Annie, you've got your chance. She don't dare. And this, gentlemen, is the ward where we care for the young. Maggie, where is he? Where's Mr. Sandman? He's right there. What a place. This is the worst ward of all. Now, if you come this way, there are the living quarters and the dining room is to your left. How's he going? They're walking toward the corridor. They'll be gone in a minute. Ain't got the nerve. I told you. They're going toward the dining room, Annie. It's your chance. Take it, girls. Run after them. Do anything. Only make him hear you. I've got to do it. I've got to do it. Maggie, I can't stay here in this place in the dark all my life. I've got to do it. We'll have to... Mr. Sandman. Mr. Sandman. Oh, dear. Mr. Sandman. If you go through this door, we'll visit the other... Mr. Sandman. Why, that girl is calling my name. Mr. Sandman. Here I am, my girl. What do you want? I want... I want to talk to Mr. Sandman. Well, come over here and talk. What hails you? Come on. I don't... I don't know where you are. I can't see. She is blind, Mr. Sandman. But I just got to talk to you. Well, now what do you want to say to me, little girl? Mr. Sandman, I want... I want... Please, I want to go to school. And so on October 7, 1880, Anne Sullivan left the Tewkesbury Arms House and entered Perkins Institution for the Blind. She was 14 years old, an unkempt, excitable girl with no education, but eager to learn, she learned quickly. Graduating as valedictorian of her class, after an operation which partially restored her sight, we find Anne on the day following commencement exercises talking with Mrs. Sophia Hopkins, a maitre in Perkins Institution, who has been her friend and benefactor. There must be something for me to do now that I can see a little. That's going to be the great difficulty, Anne. You must be more careful. You can't strain your eyes or you will be blind again. I should... Oh, I know, I know, but there's so much to see, to read and to learn. I forget about my eyes. Yes, but the doctor said... Please, I will try to be careful. Well, what would you like to do most, Anne? Teach. Teach some little child who can't see or hear. A child like Laura Bridgman was. Oh, that would be a wonderful thing to do. To take a mind that resolves blackness, shut off from the whole world, and let in the light. Mmm, it would be very difficult. And there aren't any Laura Bridgman's. I suppose not, but I do want to go on studying if I can. Seems to me I can never learn enough. Self-cultures benefit not only to the individual, but also to mankind. Remember that? You're quoting my own graduation speech right back at me. And don't forget the next line. And everyone who improves himself is aiding the progress of society. And everyone who stands still is holding it back. Well, Anne, you're not one who will ever hold it back. Opportunity came to Anne Sullivan almost immediately. In the town of Tuscumbia, the Marshal of North Alabama and his wife had appealed to Dr. Alexander Graham Bell for a teacher for their seven-year-old daughter, who had been blind and deaf since a severe illness when she was 19 months old. Dr. Bell, who was interested in methods of teaching the deaf, was a very good teacher. He was a very good teacher. He was a very good teacher. He was a very good teacher. He was a very good teacher. Dr. Bell, who was interested in methods of teaching the deaf, referred them to Perkins Institution. Through his interest, Anne, after special preparation, was permitted to attempt the task. On March 3rd of the year 1887, she arrived at the Tuscumbia station. Are you Miss Sullivan? Yes. Her carriage is right over there. And we've been meeting every train for two days. Oh, I'm so sorry. I've been so anxious to see you. Oh, this is Miss Sullivan, dear. Oh, Miss Sullivan. I just had to come down to meet you. I wanted to talk to you before you saw my little girl. I'm so glad you did. Did you? Did you have a bad trip? Oh, yes. I had another operation on my eyes just a few days before I left Boston. Oh. The smoke and dust has inflamed them a great deal. Get in here, won't you? Yeah, I'll put your bags in, Miss. You should be more careful. I know I should. You see, I was blind for a long time. And if I lost my sight again, I believe I would die. We're ready, Jane. All right. Get up, Sally. Come on, get along. Get it. I wanted to talk to you, prepare you for meeting my little girl. You know all about her, of course. Only what you've written. She hasn't been able to see your hair since she was 19 months old. That's almost six years ago. I wouldn't believe it if she didn't see it. I wouldn't believe it at first. I thought it was just the result of a fever. But we've taken it all the good doctors, and they say there's no hope. I'm so sorry. But they think she can be taught, that she can be made to understand. Oh, I'm sure that she can. Now she's just like some little wild animal, all shut up within herself and frantic. Is she well? Oh, yes, she's extremely well. I've tried not to make her keep quiet, but to let her move and exercise. Though she has been hard to handle, you see she's so strong. Well, I'm glad of that. She'll need her strength. But I think I ought to tell you now, she, well, she doesn't know what discipline is. She does just as she pleases, and when she's refused anything, she fights. She won't sit at the table, just feels the way around and grabs food off the plate. Sometimes she won't even be washed or dressed. Does she communicate with you at all? She has a few signs. We don't know how much she understands. But I'm sure she has a good mind, if only we could reach it. Promise me you will try. Try very hard. Think of my poor baby, living in that silence in the dark, not even able to ask for help. Too terrible. That's our house, Miss Sullivan. There she is in the doorway. There's been so much excitement about your coming, she's felt it. She's been simply wild for two days. Oh, Jenny, oh, oh, oh, oh. My dear, look at her. She's all dirty again. Just look at her pinnacle and her hair. It doesn't matter. Here, let me help you out of the buggy, Miss Sullivan. Thank you. She's coming down the walk. You know, she always knows when I go away and when I return. Will she let me touch her? I don't think so. She doesn't like to be petted. Look at her face. She knows something unusual is happening. Oh, oh, God. That's the only sound she makes. Please, will you let me go to her first, alone? Oh, oh. Helen. Oh. Helen. Helen Keller, you don't know it yet, but this is your teacher. The work which was to absorb Anne Sullivan for the rest of her life began immediately. At first, it was a struggle in which she seemed to be defeated, but she continued to spell into Helen's hand. And gradually, as the object coupled with the word was presented again and again, Helen began to grasp a significance. And then came the historic day when the two of them came rushing toward the house from the old pump and found Helen's father. They were both half hysterical with joy. Captain Keller. Captain Keller, it's happened. It's happened. Miss Sullivan, what's the matter? Are you ill? Is Helen? No, no, we're not ill. But it's happened. It's happened at last. What's happened? Helen understands. Understands? Yes, look at her. Look at her. Did you ever see such joy, such wonder on a human face? Oh, we can go ahead now. We can do anything. Well, I don't know what you mean. What has happened, Miss Sullivan? Oh, I'm so sorry to be emotional, but it was a surprise. What? Well, you see, it was this way, Captain Keller. Ever since I've been here, I've been trying to make Helen understand that everything has a name. I've spelled it out over and over into her hand. Yes, yes. I was spelling the word water. I told it to her before when she washed. And just now, she was holding her cup, and I was pumping for her. I spelled it once more. And just as the cold water rushed into her cup, she seemed to grasp the idea. And her face lighted up, and she spelled it over and over again. But that doesn't mean... Oh, it does. I know it does. She sat down on the ground, began patting things, and asking me what they were by touching them and stroking my arm. And I spelled them all into her hand. Well, you could tell by the way she looked that she understood. She's learned at least 20 new words. She's sitting there now, spelling them to herself, and so happy. Miss Sullivan, I hope you're right. Oh, of course I'm right. Captain Keller, Helen understands the meaning of this. She can't hear with her ears, but her mind isn't deaf anymore. She isn't shut off any longer. She can learn anything in the world. Music Into Helen Keller's hand, Anne Sullivan's fingers began immediately to speak, so that she learned almost as a hearing child might. In a few years, she was ready for organized lessons. By that time, the world had heard and marveled. Helen and Anne went north to Boston, and Helen became a student at Perkins Institution, with Anne as her special teacher. This was followed by a period at a special school for the deaf in New York, in an effort to develop Helen's voice. In 1900, we find Anne with Dr. Alexander Graham Bell would become deeply interested in them. And how is the work going, Anne? Very well. It's an excellent school. Helen's happy here. But I am afraid we shall never be able to make her voice a natural one. She will probably be able to utter only unintelligible sounds. Well, Anne, you've already accomplished miracles. She had attempted to speak even before she came here, hadn't she? Oh, yes. And the time we spent on it wasn't wasted, because it has given her another method of communication. You see, if she puts her thumb on your throat, her forefinger on your lips, and her middle finger on your nose, she can understand what you're saying. It's very valuable when she wants to communicate with someone who doesn't know the manual alphabet. You're doing a wonderful piece of work, Anne. Oh, Dr. Bell, I'm not. That's what worries me. I love Helen so much. It seems that I can't be separated from her, but she's getting beyond me. Beyond you? Yes. Well, she needs to go on and on. With my limited education, I'm... Well, I'm afraid I'm not the person to work with her. Well, that's nonsense. She couldn't go on without you. Anne, you should write a paper on the subject, and take the credit that belongs to you. Oh, Helen, time to be academic. Tell me, Anne, what are these great plans which Helen is hatching now? Dr. Bell, Helen wants to go to Harvard. Harvard? Oh, but that's impossible. Only men can go there. I know, but failing that, she set her heart on Radcliffe. Well, it's a new idea, but I don't see why not. Of course she isn't properly prepared. Her education has been good, but it hasn't been aimed at all at college entrance requirements. Well, that could be remedied. You too believe she should do it? I think Helen should set her own limitations, not have them set for her. She has a fine mind, ambition, courage, and you. But, Anne, it'll be a great strain on you. Oh, I don't mind that. It'll mean almost endless research and study for you. Will your eyes stand it? They'll have to stand anything for Helen. Well, if we selected a special school, and you were willing to bear the burden... Oh, it's no burden. I want her to do it. You can't imagine how much I wanted. It's only that I must be sure that I am the one to help her. There can be no question about that. Then I'll start investigating preparatory schools tomorrow. Helen is so eager to get started. And you? Well, I'm wild to get started too. It's a daring plan, but... Well, you've convinced me I have all I need to take us through. Your love for Helen. Yes, my love for Helen. And your faith in me. So through the next eight years, Anne, with her eyesight growing dimmer and dimmer, read volume after volume. In 1904, Helen graduated with honors from Radcliffe. And she and her teacher were ready to begin their life work. In spite of her marriage to John Macy, the brilliant author and critic, Anne refused to leave Helen. Lecturing, lending their influence to the cause of the handicap, the two women traveled throughout the country. Their efforts raised the sum which made possible the beginning of the work of the American Foundation for the Blind, whose activities are now conducted on a nationwide scale. It was only when her health broke completely that Anne Sullivan finally yielded to the necessity for a quieter life. One evening, following a lecture in San Francisco, she finds herself unable to face the visitors who were announced by their companion Polly Thompson in their dressing room. Polly, please ask them to leave. I simply cannot see anyone tonight. But they're asking for you. Well, they want to see Helen. You'll have to talk to them. I can't. Oh, you're tired, Anne. Too tired. This trip's too much for you. You must be more careful. How can I be more careful? I've tried not to keep Helen dependent on me. I've turned everything I could over to the others. I know. You've been wonderful. But you're not well, Anne. And I'm worried about your eyes. Yes, I'm worried about my eyes, too. Oh, we should take you back home. Anne, you don't like to lecture, really, do you? Well, no. Yet you always tell the story of Helen Keller as though you were relating it for the first time. You could tell it just as well. And I'm afraid you'll soon have to. Oh, I couldn't. You never take credit for anything. It's not only the way you tell the story, it's the way you speak of education, your theories of teaching. Who do you think was in the audience tonight? Oh, I couldn't guess. Dr. Montessori, the great Italian educator. Montessori? Yes. She's in the other room now with some friends. She wants to see you, Anne. Now may I open the door? Oh, yes. Yes. Do come in, Miss Sullivan. Yes, Dr. Montessori. I am proud to greet you. You are a great teacher, Miss Sullivan. The educators make tribute to me. Call me a pioneer. I have but followed in your steps. It is you. You are the pioneer. Mrs. Macy died in October 1936 at the age of 70 in her home in Forest Hills, Long Island. Her sight was gone and she was in pain during most of her last years, but her spirit was indomitable, her courage as great as the day she left Tewkesbury Asylum. She had in truth laid down her life for a friend and she was richly rewarded in that that friend was Helen Keller. Miss Keller observes March 3rd, the day in 1887 when she met her beloved teacher as her sole birthday. With her, DuPont salutes Anne Sullivan Macy as one of the heroic figures in the cavalcade of America. This evening we are honored at this broadcast by the presence of Miss Helen Keller herself together with her devoted friend and companion, Miss Polly Thompson, the woman who has taken Anne Sullivan Macy's place at Helen Keller's side. Miss Keller has been following this broadcast with Miss Thompson's assistance. It is a pleasure first to introduce Miss Polly Thompson. I am deeply moved by this dramatic broadcast. It encourages me to feel that Anne Sullivan Macy's beacon shines upon my efforts to make the American Foundation for the Blind a tower of strength to her sightless fellows in this country. And now it is my privilege to present Miss Helen Keller. The noble and beautiful Mary, guardian angel, should warm other hearts to helpfulness. That would be her true memorial. Thank you, Miss Keller. We are gratified that you feel this story of your teacher has been a memorial. Your inspiring life work is one of the noblest in our times. We are privileged to have had you as our guest on the cavalcade of America. The other day on a visit to the DuPont Company's central experimental laboratories at Wilmington, the chemist guiding me said, here's the room where we do our microanalysis. Well, that word had me stopped for a while. But here's how he explained it. Analysis means to separate anything into all its parts. And micro means small. Microanalysis simply means doing the separating job in a very small way, using extremely small amounts of material. And when I say small, I mean tiny. This chemist showed me a sample as small as five milligrams or one five thousandth part of an ounce. It looked like a few specks of dust. I asked him, how in the world can you measure such a tiny quantity? He showed me a most delicate balance or weighing machine so finely adjusted that it can accurately measure one millionth of a gram. It was enclosed in a glass case and balanced on a knife edge of agate. The reading had to be done through a powerful magnifying glass. Nobody slams any doors in that room because vibration is a constant worry to the chemist using such a delicate instrument. As a precaution, he has the case on a heavy lead plate one inch thick with the lead plate resting on a sponge rubber cushion and the cushion in turn set on a stone slab. In spite of all this care, he had some trouble last summer with vibration that shook the scales. After searching high and low for days, he finally discovered the trouble in another room across the hallway of the building. Someone was running a defective ventilating fan. The fine scales are important, but a lot depends on how the material is handled too. By using heat, the sample is broken down into its chemical ingredients which are collected in glass tubes and carefully weighed. Before weighing, the chemist must first wipe the tubes with painstaking care without touching them with his hands because moisture or grease from his fingers would make the tubes way heavy on this delicate balance. Finally, when he's done his figuring way out to six decimal places, he knows almost to an atom, that tiniest unit of matter, what the material contains. And it's vitally important that the research chemist should know exactly what he has in his test tube at every stage of his experiments. This method of analysis permits the study of very small amounts of material and it's quick. Such infinite care and research helps make it possible for DuPont chemists to improve existing products and create entirely new ones, thus fulfilling their pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. Music The story of America's great frontier scout, William F. Cody, famed in the annals of our nation's history as Buffalo Bill, will be the subject of our broadcast when next week at the same time, DuPont again presents the cavalcade of America. Music This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Music
