The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont. The destinies of people rise and fall in currents of historic parallels. This happened in America and it's the story of our cavalcade tonight. The story of a mighty confederation of Iroquois Indians who became known as the League of the Longhouse because of their place of meeting. The hand of the meeting. The hand of the Longhouse was heavy and its arm was long. But from Europe came the white man with visions of empire. And through circumstance and greed a people was broken and the Longhouse vanished into history. And the roverture, Don Voorhees and the DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra played the beautiful Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. The Pale Moon. It is the voice of the great Indian chieftain Logan. It is the farewell of a race. Logan's arms are folded, his face impassive in the soft glow of the candelabra on the desk of his conqueror Lord Dunmore of Great Britain. Through the fixed night which darkens the history of our subjugation, through all the degradation and reproach which has been heaped upon us, there runs one thread of light revealing our former greatness, pleading the causes of our decay, illuminating the pit of our downfall, promising that our dead shall live again. Not in the endless darkness is that thread of light to be lost, but from the shadowy past it shall break out in brilliancy, redeeming a people's downfall, and bringing from you, our subjugators, the greeting brother. In Logan's mind is a memory of the Kanaweida and Hiawatha, forming the confederation of his people. A union of elective delegates to a common council, a representative democracy of the vast League of the Long House, Mohawks, Onidans, Onondagas, Seneca's, and Cayuga's. A union from the St. Lawrence River to the Southern Carolinas, westward to the Mississippi. Our story of the fall of the Long House begins one day in 1609, when lurking among the trees on the shore of the lake that bears his name, waited the French explorer Champlain and his expedition, including some Algonquin scouts. They're coming down the beach now. Mohawk dogs, coming to talk, huh? What are the Mohawks to say to me? Remember, Monsieur, they belong to the Iroquois confederation. If France must choose among savages, we'll cast our lot against the confederation. This is our chance to win an alliance with the Algonquins. They are fine-looking Indians, much bigger and stronger than our Algonquin guide. True, but they do not know guns. One shot and it's over. Pasca, what shall it be? Three with feathers, brother. They are leading the delegation, Monsieur. Yes, it's simple. Give me that musket, John. My brother has seen feathers fall from a bird he has killed. Yes, I have seen. Then watch. The report of the Frenchman's musket re-echoed through the serenity of the wilderness. But it rang beyond the shores of Lake Champlain. It was an explosion that dropped the destinies of people. From that hour, the Mohawks and their fellow nations in the League of the Long House were the mortal enemies of France during the years of European aggression in America. The confederation anxiously made treaties and trusted the invading foreign powers in the interest of peace, first with the Dutch, then with the English. The League of the Long House was being moved as a pawn on the chessboard of American colonization by international strategists from the courts of Europe. For at this very time, on the heights of Quebec, greedily looking down toward the English colony of New York, is Britain's ancient enemy, France. And one evening, the French governor of Canada, the Marquis de Nambille, calls his advisor into his study. Our next move, Champigne, is to seize New York. We will split the British colony of New England from those in the south. We will crush the Long House confederation in the bargain. We can do nothing, Monsieur le Governor, unless we have more troops. Nah, more troops. I asked His Majesty for 800, he sent me three. No, we must do with what we have. I have a plan. Who? Tell me. We will take New York with only the troops we have already in Canada, aided by two ships of war. Impossible. Wait. I will send a thousand regulars and 600 militias to take Albany. Then they will descend the Hudson to New York and take that. The two ships will enter the harbor and aid in the attack. The whole matter can be accomplished in one month. It is magnificent if we can do it, but what would be the fate of the people we can't convince you? We will spare only those who take an oath of allegiance to France. That is massive. Too massive. But all officers and other persons who have means of paying ransom will be thrown into prison and held there until their ransom is paid. Very reasonable. And what next? All lands of the colony, except those owned by persons who swear allegiance, must be seized and granted in feudal tenure to French officers. Excellent. All property, public and private, is to be divided among grantees of the land. The rest is sold for the king. That will please His Majesty. You have thought of everything, Mr.... I haven't finished. Mechanics and all other workmen will be held at the discretion of the commanding officer to work on new fortifications. Ah, that is essential. I think so. The rest of the inhabitants, Dutch and English, men, women and children, are to be deported out of the colony and dispersed so they can never again combine together. That will be a good lesson and a warning. Precisely. And that our conquest of New York may be completely secure, I think we should incite the neighboring settlements of New England to insurrection. But they might come into our New York colony later. And what about the Longhouse, Monsieur le Governor? As I said, we will crush it. But will the king approve? Monsieur, he has already done so. The plan of Denonville Through mysterious channels, the plan of Denonville reached the council of the Indian chiefs at the League of the Longhouse. And on the night of the 5th of August 1689, a violent hailstorm burst near Montreal. 1200 Indian warriors, fired by their hatred of the French, turned the plan into an empty farce. Denonville then relinquished his chair at this chess table of colonial empire to the Conte de Fontenac. Again, France died in New York. But this time the plan was different. It was launched against the Dutch and the English. And one day in Schenectady, one of the leading burghers in the settlement, Alexander Glenn, is approached by an old Mohawk woman. Manier Glenn. Yes, what is it? French are coming. What? My people say to warn friends. French coming. Mohawk friends to Dutch. You go to the house of the Domine, the minister, the man who talks, say that the French are coming to attack us, that we need help. Yes. Good. Deliver that message. Yes. Yes, I go. That afternoon, the Domine was away from home when the old Mohawk woman stood before his door. What's there? Come in. Well, what do you want here? I come from here, Glenn, with message. Ah, out upon you. You've got snow all over my clean floor. You yourself are dirty like old Mohawks. Go away. Mohawks are friends to Dutch. Indian friends to all who want peace. Go away. I have work to do. I have a message. I care not for your message. Go away. Down through the valleys of upper New York state marched the columns of the French army. Again the long house warned the burghers of Schenectady. And in a tavern late one night... All this talk of a French war party in midwinter in February, and it's snowing. At least we can stand guard. Tonight of all nights when there is a wedding, music and dancing, and you talk of standing guard. What about surprise? You think that old fox rather than a care for a little wind and snow? He may not, but I do. There are twenty Mohawks in the town tonight. They are protection. Against the French army? We ought to help. Post a guard. Very well then. I have an idea. What is it? We will make a great snowman. One for each gate of the stockade. And leave them to us. And if it's a snowman guard, what do you say? Aye, snowmen are good enough to scare the French away. You see, we will give you all the guard you need. Two snowmen. Yeah, good idea. That's all we need. Closer and closer to Schenectady greets the army of France. The night was white with driving snow. Finally the stockade looms through the whirling gusts of the blizzard, and the French officer holds up his hand. Now either we take this shabby little town or die at its gates. Has the scouts reported yet, Monsieur? I report well. We will not die at its gates, Monsieur. Take my word for it. What do you mean? You know what the Dutch have done? They've made two great men of snow. I thought they were ghosts. They replaced them before the gates. I think they are mad. More likely drunk. It is ungodly then. Yes, Monsieur. Good. We will enter and entirely encircle the stockade from the inside. And then? And then let the signal kill. In Schenectady that night swarmed the army of France, overpowering the settlements. Schenectady was burned, and the French moved on. But ever faithful to the alliance with the English and the Dutch, the chieftains and the council of the League of the Long House gathered near the city to perform with the survivors of Schenectady the rite of condolence. It was springtime now, and the voice of the chief station of the Onondagas rose over a huddle of weary people gathered under the soaring trees of the forest. Brothers, the murder of our friends, the white men of Schenectady, grieves us greatly. As much as it had been done to ourselves, for with you we are united. The French have not acted like brave men, but like thieves with hearts of darkness. Be not discouraged, we give you this belt to wipe away your tears. Five moons ago the French sent messengers with the white flag in their hands and talk of peace upon their lips. But their thoughts were thoughts of war. So it was, they acted with deceit. But these French, these desecrators of liberty and peace, must perish. White brothers, we shall have revenge. Music Once more the French invasion failed. Pledged as allies of the Dutch and English, the League of the Long House struck a defensive blow at the aggressors and routed them again. But while peace was restored, the European schemes of empire went on. As the decades passed, the chessboard of colonial domination was cleared of all pieces except the French and English kings and the pawns. That was the League of the Long House. Firmly it stood beside the British kings. Then to the new world came William Johnson, who had been appointed superintendent of Northland Indian Affairs and whose orders were to drive the French out of America. Gentlemen, I propose to send out two detachments of five hundred men each and catch the French between them. What say you, Colonel William? Well, isn't it poor policy to divide one's forces, sir? Perhaps. What say you, Hendrik? Brother, I take this stick and break it. See, it breaks easily. Now I take this handful of sticks and I cannot break them. Singly, we may be broken. Then I will form the two detachments into one of a thousand men. Hendrik, will you take your Long House warriors with my British troops? Brother, I am old and I am fat, but my ears can still hear the war cry. I will go where you order. Good. I will keep a thousand men here to hold the barricade. Colonel Williams, you will lead the advance. Yes, sir. Brother, you must give me a word. Age and flesh do not permit me to march on foot with my young warriors. Take my own horse, brother. We will start at daybreak. With the invaluable assistance of the tribes of the Long House Confederation, the English began the struggle that was to end in 1763 with the collapse of French power in North America and leave the empire of Great Britain ruling the American colonies. The French king was removed from the chessboard, leaving the British king alone with its pawn, the League of the Long House. The tribes returned peacefully to their campfires, but the game was not yet over. There was Lord Dunmore with the might and authority of Great Britain behind him as he speaks to his adjutant one night in 1774. It's merely a matter of colonization. We must send our own colonists over to that section of Virginia if we are to hold the colony for the crown. But isn't that land reserved for the Mingo Indians? It might make trouble, sir. They will have to bear it, but we've got to have that territory. The Mingoes belong to the Long House Confederation. You're thinking of our treaty with them, huh? Well, so have I. But I'm also thinking of England. There are other lands the Mingoes can move to. Let their chief, Logan, take them out west. Do you realize, sir, that if we take their land, if we break our treaty, it means a frontier war? It means more than that. It means the end of the Long House. Here in the America of 1774 began the downfall of a race. On the one hand, the Confederation of Five Indian Nations, the League of the Long House. On the other, the Empire of Great Britain. Then only a few months later, William Johnson, the helpless friend of the Long House, sits with his secretary in his study at Johnson Hall, worrying over the situation in the colony of Virginia. I wish I knew what was happening, Butler. This fool John Maw sending colonists to lands that belong to the Long House. Well, if a frontier war comes, those stiff-necked colonists will bear the brunt. If they should whip the Long House to it. There is such a thing as honor, or there was. The colonists, as you call them, are my countrymen. I am a colonist. The people of the Long House are my brothers. You ask me to contemplate a war between these two with equanimity. I can't do that. I've spent my life dealing with the Long House. They've trusted England completely. Your news may be already here, sir. See who it is. Yes, grounds, yes. It's war, sir. Our treaty with the Long House is broken. It's the end. And the Chief, Logan. Captured, sir. Colonists in Virginia killed his whole family. That wasn't necessary, I suppose. You'll have to ask Lord Dunmore, sir. But Logan, is Logan still alive? Yes, sir. It's time. They brought Logan before Lord Dunmore. He drew his blanket from his face slowly. It was as if he was speaking for all his race. He folded his arms and looked at Lord Dunmore for a long time. Death darkens my lodge. My door is closed as sun and moon and stars. Death darkens my lodge. All within lie dead. Logan is alone. He, too, is blind. Like the quiet dead, his ears are stopped. He hears not. He cannot see darkness or light. For Logan, light or darkness comes too late. I appeal to any white man. If he ever entered Logan's lodge hungry and he gave him not meat, if he ever came cold and naked and he clothed him not, such was my love. Such was my great love for the white man. My brothers pointed at me as they passed and said, He is the friend of the white men. And I had even thought to live among you, but for the injuries of my brothers, the white men. Unprovoked, in cold blood, they have slain my kin. All, all, not bearing woman or child. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. I have withstood the storms of many winters. Leaves and branches have been stripped from me. My eyes are dim. My limbs, tattered. I must soon fall. I who could make the dry leaf turn green again. I who could take the rattlesnake in my palm. I who had communion with the dead, dreaming and waking. I am powerless. The wind blows hard. The old tree trembles. Its branches are gone. Its sap is pruned. It bends. It falls. Peace. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one. Not one. The League of the Long House, the five nations, Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Seneca's, and Cayuga's. The great pre-revolutionary confederacy of American Indians in the New World, betrayed and broken by the greed and treachery of the old. The pawn fell from the chess game. But in 1776, the last piece, the British king, was spun from the table and freedom ruled the chessboard. And although the League of the Long House has vanished, its history of 200 years of faith and representative democracy in our native wilderness glows through the years as a beacon and a prophecy in the America of today. And now here's Basil Rysdale speaking for the DuPont Company and bringing us another story from the wonder world of chemistry. In preparing tonight's story, I started to make a list of the uses for rubber. Tires, rubber boots, rubber bands. But I soon found that I'd never finish. Men who know tell me there are more than 30,000 uses. No wonder rubber is regarded as one of the world's most important raw materials. And here are a couple of facts to make you stop and think. Number one, the United States is the world's largest user of rubber. Number two, all of the natural rubber we use is imported from foreign land, 99 percent of it from the Far East, thousands of miles away. That's the bad spot the nation was in until just a few years ago when DuPont research chemists discovered how to make a product like rubber in the laboratory, out of materials we have in abundance right here at home, out of limestone, coal, and salt. From this curious combination of raw materials, they first make acetylene gas, and then by a complicated chemical process, they obtain the product called neoprene, actually better than nature's rubber in some ways. But what is equally important, this scientific victory ensures America against fancy prices for rubber, a commodity almost entirely controlled by foreign producers. You can bet your rubber boots that foreign prices will never go above the neoprene price. And it doesn't matter if they do. American chemists know how to make a material that can be used in place of rubber. Meanwhile, neoprene is giving wide and valuable service today because of its peculiar properties. Thousands of products for all sorts of purposes were made of neoprene in 1938, mainly because natural rubber could not serve as satisfactory. Unlike ordinary rubber, neoprene has great resistance to oil and grease, acids, heat, and sunlight. It lives longer, retains its useful qualities under conditions that quickly destroy natural rubber. For these reasons, almost every industry is finding uses for neoprene. In the automobile industry alone, it is being used in over 50 different ways. Yes, the story of neoprene deserves a four-word headline. Science improves on nature. Neoprene, an outstanding achievement of chemical research, and a fine example of the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. Next week, the Cavalcade of America tells the story of a pioneer mother's courage and determination in crossing the Western frontier in a lonely prairie schooner wagon with a family of six children. The story of Eliza Ann Brooks. So until next week then at this same time, this is Thomas Chalmers saying good night and best wishes in DuPont. On tonight's program, Logan's speech was given by special permission of Samuel Golden, owner of the film rights of Robert W. Chambers' novel, Cardigan. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
