The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont. Good evening everyone, this is Gabriel Heater speaking for the DuPont Company. Tonight the Cavalcade of America brings you a story of a great American. Great because he was a living example of qualities which we like to feel are part of our American heritage. His name is Edward Bock, a man who came to America as millions did, and began his climb by hard work and faith in his new country and its opportunities. A man who helped hundreds of men and women to climb as he did. I believe it's especially appropriate for us to hear about Edward Bock tonight. We've heard so much about men of force and men who rule by might and power. Here's a man who lived by tender compassion. A man who had one great goal in life, to serve his fellow men, to make their lives richer, fuller, happier. And now before the curtain rises on our story, Don Voorhees and the DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra play September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays September songs from the musical comedy of early days in New York, Nickerbocker Holiday. The modern magazine provides its readers with a hundred useful services, services unknown a few years ago, but that today are available to everyone for the few pennies it costs to buy a modern magazine. America's most famous baby doctor, right for American mothers. One hundred inexpensive hints to make your home more attractive. Fisky dinners any man will enjoy. Practical points for doing over a spare room. Gardening made simple for the backyard farmer. A successful businesswoman gives advice to girls. The man responsible for most of these services in the modern magazine is an editor of recent times, Edward Bach. And tonight our story is of Edward Bach's struggle to rise from an immigrant boy's poverty to a position of influence and distinction in his adopted land. His success was largely due to his constant effort to understand Americans. And he began studying them shortly after his arrival from Holland at the early age of six. When one day he and his brother William stood staring hungrily into a bakery shop window. I don't know what the words in English Edward, but that is bread and toast are all. And that is lemon pie, William. I tasted a piece once. Let's go into the baker and say, give us a lemon pie and we do some work. Work for a baker? We are a good family. Yeah, a good hungry family. But our family does not work for bakers. Gentlemen don't work. They do too. In America it's all right to work. You can work at anything you want. No, it's wrong. It is not. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. It's wrong. No, it's not. It is not. It is not. You shut up. And listen, our people were great people in Holland. There was a judge in our family and who was our great great grandfather, answer me. An admiral. I still want lemon pie, William, so I get one. Oh, Edward. Edward Bates, what are you going to do? Well, little boy. Good evening, mister. Those currant buns look mighty good, don't they? They would, mister. If your window was clean. What? It's too dirty to see very good. Well, of all the nerve for a pint prize like you. Maybe you'd like to wash my window. I would. Oh, I see. Not a customer, a job hunter. Well, how much would you want for an hour of your valuable time? Five cents? What is there? Five cents and a currant bun. Wait, please. I hurry back fast. Well, for the love of... There. What happens, Edward? He's a good man, like friend. I come every day and scrub clean and maybe wait on customers. He hires you already? No, not yet, so better I hurry. But, William, in the window, the rule is not called rule. It's called currant bun. You will get it for being scrub man to the baker? Yeah. It's all right for an American to work, William. I just know this. So, you tell Mother William, I bring home my big lemon pie. That was Edward Bach's first job and his first lesson in Americanization. That a boy or man may work at whatever he likes, so long as it's honest. And like many an American lad, young Bach turned an industrious hand to whatever came along. He was a baker's boy, a news boy, a lemonade seller and an office boy. The briskness and initiative of America delighted him. By 12 years of age, he'd learned enough of the language and the people to know how to pick out a job and go after it. One evening in the room of a newspaper, the Brooklyn Eagle... Boy! Boy! Yes, mister? Take this to the composing room. Say, who are you? My name is Bach, Edward Bach. I've written several letters to you, but I know you're a busy man. Who let you in here at this hour of day? How did you get past the outside office? I walked past. A lady called me, but I kept on going. Then I heard you calling for a boy. I meant the copy boy. Oh, you just said boy. Listen, will you come to the point? What do you want? I have a good story for the Eagle. What is it? I wrote it out for you, sir. I brought it to Eagle's special. Here you are. All right. Last night, Miss Alena Davis gave a charades party at the home of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. C.D. Davis of Elmwood Avenue. 50 young people were lucky enough to be invited. Well, what's the story? Did it wind up in a murder? No, mister. It wound up with lemonade and cookies, but look at page three. Page three? Mm-hmm. Those present were the Mrs. Anna Tracy, Dean Smith, Betty Gould. Say, what is this all about? Don't you see, mister? If you print those 50 names, every single family will buy a copy of the Eagle. Hmm. Well, you might be right, Sonny. And mister, I could get you a lot of stories. Oh, with names, and that's just practice for me. When I grow up, I might work for you all the time. Well, that's mighty kind of you, Sonny. Well, I could use some stories like this, and we'll pay you $3 a column. $3? Now, skip before I change my mind. And don't come back before tomorrow. Yes, mister. I'll get busy. $3 a column. $3. 500 words to a column. 1,000 names to make 2,000 words. I'll get somebody to help me. Hey, Sammy! Yeah? You going to any parties this week? Yeah, my mother's making me go to a girl's birthday party. Why? Listen, would you like to make a nickel by just going to a party? A nickel for going to a party? What's the catch? No catch. It's easy. All you do is take a paper and pencil and stand off in the corner a while and jot down names. Then bring them to me. Tommy, you don't work hard enough at this job. What's the matter with that list? I'd like to know. Look, you put down Ed Roberts. His name is Edwin Castleton Roberts. And here, Jeanette White. Her middle name's Witherspoon. All right. But I don't know if I'm having much fun at parties anymore. I won't get names for less than 10 cents, Edward Brock. Jamie Crowe. You are awful popular. How many parties did you go to this week? Three. All right. 10 cents apiece. Certainly cuts down profit, but it gets results. We'll have a story for the paper. When Edward Brock was in his teens, not yet fully adjusted to the country, his father died. If he'd needed more incentive to industry and initiative, he found it in the desire to shield his widowed mother from poverty. Toward that purpose, he worked as a clerk by day and for his newspaper at night. One memorable evening, he was assigned to cover a banquet at which the President of the United States, Rutherford B. Hayes, was the principal speaker. What are you doing at this table, boy? There's a reserve of reporters. I am a reporter. I mean, I hope. Well, they must be hiring help from the day nurseries now. What's your name? Where are you from? Brooklyn Eagle. I don't remember seeing you before. Why? How does it happen they send you out on a story? Because I take shorthand, but I hope the speech is slow enough. Oh, you won't have any trouble. President Hayes speaks very slowly. Yeah, slowest talker I ever heard. He stutters and repeats himself. Oh, really? Yeah. I didn't know that. Well, it's going to save my life. Say, you might give me a couple of those pencils you've got with him. Certainly. I'll have one, too. Those look like good pencils. Oh, thanks, Bob. But I'll need some myself. Look, I've only one pencil left and it's broken. But I have to have a pencil. I want it, gentlemen. Please give it to me. Ladies and gentlemen, it is our good fortune this evening that the final remarks at this meeting will be made by the President of the United States, Rutherford B. Hayes. President Hayes. Ladies and gentlemen, because I have long loved New England, its great men, its scenery, its noble history in these United States, I consider it a privilege to be here tonight for this forthright discussion of problems to be met in our northeastern states. Most of you are practical men with a close knowledge of conditions in your own communities. You are met here for exchange and comparison, for criticism and help. So, I shall make an end of these remarks, ladies and gentlemen. They were offered in the contemplative spirit. They were the words of a critic, but of a philosophic critic, and a man who wishes you well. And please believe, ladies and gentlemen, that I have spoken more on the role of an interested, sympathetic, private citizen than as an officer of your government. I thank you. I never heard anyone talk so fast in my life. How much of a senior remember? Hardly any. Why does one who will jump on the river go back with what I know? Which door will the President lead by? Do you know? Does anyone know? Well, the side door, he'll avoid the crowd. Hey, boy, don't go away. Excuse me, sir. Can I squeeze through here, please? I beg your pardon. Mr. Shopping, please. I have to get through. No. Thank you. Pardon me. Right on my foot, sir. I'm sorry. Dorman, has the President come through here? The carriage is just drawing up, sir. Stand back, please. I have to. Mr. President. Mr. President. Just a moment, young man. You have an appointment with the President? Let him speak to me if he wants. Secret service doesn't know him, Mr. President. I do. He was at the reporters' table, weren't you, son? Yes, Mr. President. I couldn't get all your speech. I wondered if you have a copy of it. Certainly. I'm staying over on Brooklyn Heights. Are you going my way? I'd love to. Mr. President, please don't take a strange young man in your carriage. It's all right, Parker. Get in, son. Thank you, sir. Fine evening for a drive, isn't it? Yes, Mr. President. Splendid. I enjoyed your speech. It was just a little fast for me, though. I saw all of you struggling. This is your first big assignment. Yes, sir. And while I'm here, maybe I could ask you some questions. Political questions that the Eagle would like to know about. Go ahead. I don't promise I'll answer. Well, at the time of your election, first about the copy of your speech. Wait. Here you are, son. Oh. A word for word copy. Mr. President, the Eagle will beat the town. Early in life, Edward Bach learned that famous Americans were friendly and democratic and began writing to them for information about their lives. In this way, General Ulysses S. Grant sketched for Edward a map with the exact spot marked where General Lee had surrendered. Jefferson Davis, the cultivated head of the Dissolved Confederacy, wrote to Edward for years. Henry Ward Beecher, the famous Brooklyn preacher, made Edward almost one of his households. And he met Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and many others. But while he was educating himself, he carried on his work. Sonographer by day, reporter by night. You did very well on that, President Hayes, John Edward. Thank you, sir. I'd like a chance to do special work every evening if I could. How would you like to work for us on a full-time basis? I'm sorry, sir, but I almost have to keep my daytime job at the telegraph company and get to do the work I'm interested in during the evening. Well, I'll give you all the work you can swing for the evenings. Here, take this ticket for the Grand Opera House tonight. Tonight? Can't you work tonight? Yes, sir. It's Rose Coughlin's show. She played it here early in the season and we reviewed it. But as theater news, we want to cover it again. Bring in the story tonight. Yes, sir. That was an interesting review you sent in last night, Edward. Thank you, sir. There was only one thing wrong with it. It reviewed a show that didn't go on. There was a speech made just before the curtain was to rise. Miss Coughlin was too ill to play. I'm sorry, sir. I know you want me to resign. Yes, for faking. That's finished your chances with the Eagle. In time, Edward Bach convinced his editor of his fundamental honesty and the Eagle took him back. He never faked again. Instead, he was hardworking and direct and made his newspaper training a stepping stone to the famous old publishing house of Scribner's. To a little magazine of his own called the Brooklyn Magazine and to a syndicated newspaper column on books. Then one day in the city of Philadelphia, one of the most brilliant publishers in America, Cyrus H.K. Curtis, had a talk with his wife who was about to retire as editor of the Ladies Home Journal. Why am I having so much trouble finding someone, Louise? Because most editors are literary people. This magazine can be more than just literature. It ought to reach out to people directly. Everybody we've thought about so far has certainly been a disappointment. I wish you'd look up the man who writes this syndicated newspaper column, William Bach. William Bach? Well, he writes about books. Probably doesn't know a thing about people. I'll try. I'll make a luncheon appointment with him next time I go to New York. Your name is Edward Bach. Why the William Bach on your articles? Oh, that's my brother's signature, Mr. Curtis. We used to do that literary column together at first. Then he dropped out of it. My wife likes that column. So do I. Thank you. My wife's retiring from the editorship of the Ladies Home Journal. Too much of a strain for her to continue. She needs a successor. How well do you understand women? I don't understand them at all. Well, that's honest of you. Married? No. Any sisters? No. But my mother... My mother meant a great deal to my brother and me because we were left to take care of her when we were quite young. So I know a lot about homes, Mr. Curtis. My whole life's been a struggle to keep one together. Of course. Our title's the Ladies Home Journal. We might put the emphasis on the home and see what you could do for us. So began Edward Bach's career as an editor. Cyrus H.K. Curtis hired him to edit the Ladies Home Journal. And through the busy years of his life, it seemed that the presses were always turning. Reading manuscripts, consulting authors, making new contacts. Always trying to keep in close touch with the public he sought to serve. Edward Bach brought the women's magazine to its present useful form and made it indispensable in the American home. His genius with people took him far and wide over the world, recruiting talent for his readers. I envy you, Bach. I envy the power you have. That's a strange statement from the President of the United States. No. They read what Theodore Roosevelt says. Newspapers. When they're tired and rushed and busy. They read you at home, or it makes an impression. You have more to do with the future of America than some of us down here in Washington. What about it, Dr. Coolidge? Is this a wild plan? Well, it's never been done before, Mr. Bach. But think of it. Thousands of mothers needing health advice. Not nearly enough doctors in the rural areas. Well, I'm willing to try. Good. We'll raise 90,000 babies by mail. A sideline to the magazine business. Oh, a part of it. The Ladies' Home Journal. Now, Mr. White, if you could give us some quotation from architects on what they think of the magazine's Better Homes campaign. You could say that Stanford White thinks you've done more than anyone else to better suburban city planning and the architecture of small homes in America. I want to be able to say Rudyard Kipling is one of my writers. He wouldn't have me make a trip to England for nothing. But what could I write for a woman's magazine? Your best work. We've shown that women will read good literature. The best of William Dean Howells, Sarah Orne Jewett, Conan Doyle. There's just one way to please the American public, Mr. Kipling. Keep one jump ahead of it. Through 30 years, Edward Bach remained proudest of one thing, and he considered this one fact more important than being an editor. It was his conviction that the American people were the most idealistic in the world. He crusaded for the best in women's clubs, for day nurseries, for civic improvements, for better painting and decoration in the American home, against the evils of certain patent medicines, and for a more readable and realistic literature. Toward the close of his life, he counseled the young on the future of America. Mr. Bach, all the younger men on the staff, well, we just can't believe you're retiring. I am, Tom. I have a debt to repay. A debt? Money debt. 50 years ago, a half century, a six-year-old immigrant boy sailed into New York Harbor. He didn't know the language. He had no money and no prospects. And now, thanks to a great country, he has both. I've been taking a lot out of America for years, and it's about time I put something back. Mr. Bach, you've done more for America than a lot of native-born Americans. The two presidents wanted to make you minister to Holland just to thank you. Well, I deserve no great credit. I learned long ago, America demands the best from its public men. I've found ours to be the most idealistic country in the world. Keep a jump ahead of the American public, or it gets disgusted with you. I want you to remember this. Democracy is a hard taskmaster. Now, I want time to think, Tom. A man my age forgets the busy years. His mind goes back, far back, to a worried little boy. The boy was hungry sometimes, eager, always. Those rolls cost five cents a dozen. If we had five cents. But you don't understand. Gentlemen don't work. Do, William. Teacher at school says in America it's all right to work. I go in and see the baker. Edward Bach's life could be said to approximate the ideal of the American citizen. It was his firm belief that leadership meant keeping ahead of the public's demands. He was a man who worked for his city and community. He brought music, art, and literature to the mass of the people. And to the memory of his grandparents, Edward Bach built a beautiful architectural monument down in Monten Lake, Florida. A carillon, a stately tower like the old bell towers of Holland, where people might come to gaze on beauty, to rest, and to think. He's buried at the foot of that tower near this motto which he liked best. Wherever your lives may be cast, make you the world a bit better or more beautiful because you have lived in it. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Gabriel Heater again. There are romance and drama in American industry to tame all fabled wonders of Aladdin's magic lamp. I found a headline to prove it. New York City losing twenty-five million dollars in the last twenty years. The world is in a state of chaos. The world is in a state of chaos. The world is in a state of chaos. I found a headline to prove it. New York City losing twenty million gallons of water every day because of leaks in underground water pipes. Twenty million gallons a day, which gives you an idea how much water New York needs. And here's my romance of American industry, ensuring water for a great city. Way up in the Catskill Mountains at the headwaters of the Delaware River, two great tracts of land have been set aside for reservoirs. The job now is to build the world's longest tunnel called the Delaware Aqueduct to bring pure mountain water to New York, a job that wouldn't be possible without the aid of chemistry. It will mean boring through 110 miles of solid rock. It means going down in some places as deep as 1500 feet, running shafts down 1500 feet, and boring in both directions, and then crossing the Hudson River 600 feet below. I shall never forget a day when I went down below a river bed to watch tunnellers at work, men tunnelling against rock. Now picture driving a tunnel 18 feet in diameter straight through hard rock. Chemistry will make it possible. Dynamite born in a wonder world of chemistry, a miracle by which puny man moves mountains, changes the course of mighty rivers, and burrows deep into an underground empire of nature to get coal and ore to make life better to live. It will take 22 million pounds of dynamite to do the Delaware Aqueduct job. And when it was explained to me, I realized I had always imagined dynamite was dynamite. And I asked the DuPont engineer, are there many kinds of dynamite? He said in an average year we make as many as 500 different kinds and sizes for locating oil, for mining coal, iron, copper, lead, zinc, and other minerals, for quarrying, building dams, highways, railroads, tunnels, for draining swamps, clearing land of boulders, fighting soil erosion, all the work of building civilization. And someday, not so very far off, people in New York City will be drawing water through a 110-mile rock tunnel built by men and dynamite. 700 million gallons of water every day in addition to water now available. One more example of a product born in a wonder world of chemistry, creating jobs, wages. For every mile of construction, there will be paid out three-quarters of a million dollars in wages alone. The Delaware Aqueduct, a story of vision for today and tomorrow's to come. A living example of a timeless DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. Music Next week at the same time, DuPont again presents the Carvelcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
