The Cavalcade of America, presented by DuPont. A story of 1620, the strange friend of the pilgrims. Adapted for radio from materials suggested by Dr. Frank Monahan. With a distinguished star of stage, screen, and radio, Sam Jaffe, as Tascuantum, the strange friend of the pilgrims. The DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, again brings you the Cavalcade of America. To tell you something of the importance of tonight's almost unbelievable chronicle, we now present the Cavalcade of America's historical advisor, Dr. Frank Monahan of Yale University. Some 37 miles south of Boston, where the south shore becomes Cape Cod, there is a granite boulder, two-thirds embedded in New England earth. This rock is neither a Gibraltar nor a Quebec, but it is the symbol of a glorious American tradition. Generations of Americans have gone to Plymouth and have meditated upon the simple figures, 1620, carved on the rock's surface. We all know some parts of the dramatic story of our Pilgrim Fathers, but only a very few are acquainted with an early and genuine American hero, Tascuantum. It is possible that without Tascuantum, Plymouth Rock would have no meaning for us today. The story of Tascuantum begins six years before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock, the year 1614. Storm clouds mass in the sky and surging rollers of the Atlantic lash the bleak and desolate coast of Cape Cod. Offshore, an English ship rides at anchor, and at the rail, the maintenance captain, Thomas Hunt, watch a long boat filled with Indians draw alongside. Everything ready, mate? Aye, Captain. Can't risk anything going wrong. We'll have to do this quick. Storm coming up. Aye, Captain, we will. How many Indians do you count? A long boat packed, Skipper. Twenty-three of them, I make it. Fine prize they'll match. They'll fetch in Malaga. Good-looking lot, too. Ahoy! Up on the board down there. Aye, Captain. Up you go now. All of you. Come on. Now, mate, you ready for it? Aye, Captain, don't worry. My men are ready. Reporting is ordered, Captain. Quite so, Mr. Jones. Have any trouble? None at all, sir. They think they've come aboard to trade beaver with us. Good. Any of them understand English? That one there does, a little. Hey, this is Quantum. Meet this Quantum, speak. We taught him a few words, Captain, like truck for trade. And he knows you're the Skipper. Aye, Skipper. All right, Squanto, we'll trade with you. Take your beaver pelts down in the hold. Store them there, and then we'll trade. Understand? No. Squanto, truck here. Can't trade with you unless you put the beaver pelts in the hold. See? Won't take long. Go ahead, Squanto. No. Bad sign. Truck here. See these beads? Plenty more down in the hold, just like them. All you have to do is go down and get them. Ah, that's it. That's the way. Help them down, mates. All right. Come on. All of you. That's right. Down in the hold with your pelt. You too, Squanto. No. Squanto, stay here. Come on, brother. Everything's all right, brother. You brother? Good. Squanto, go down. That's all of them, Captain. Now, Captain. Now. Slam the hatch. That's it. Now we've got them. Good work, mates. Fine. We'll sail from Malaga as soon as we weigh anchor. You traitors of the seas, here is the first sight you have ever led your eyes on in the slave marts of Malaga. These Indians here, look at them. The finest slaves, what you can see. See the brown and sinew of these red men. Come. What's my offer? 20 pounds. Get 30. Aye. Only 20 pounds. For one of these Indians from the New World, oh, they are worth more. Come. Come up and have a closer look at this one here. These great specimen. He even speaks English. Come on, Squanto. Speak a few words for us. Squanto, want to go home. That is not what they taught you. He knows a little English and he will learn Spanish or any tongue as quickly. Come. What's my offer? Three digger in slave. Oh, the friars, the friars. Who is slave master to these poor Indians? I am friar. And what are the likes of you to do with me or these savages? We forbid the sale of them and take them into the protection of God and his holy church for the salvation of their souls. Savages have souls? Lose your own soul if you will, for you have heard the word of God. These poor savages have not. It is God's will they hear it. I'll be the judge of what's good for these savages. There's only one judge of the earth's creatures and his wrath is terrible. I stand upon the word of God and I warn you upon my sacred office to release these poor souls. Now. Save your sermons for the church, holy father, and I'll answer for these. Well, we're early. Now see, see what you've done. They've escaped. They're heading for the waterfront. Quick, Peter, Michael, after them. Hurry, bring them back. There they go across the square. If you can't catch them, shoot them. The next morning on the deck of a ship bound north along the Spanish coast, the captain talks with the merchant passenger, John Slaney. They tell me you know the English captain who had the trouble in Malaga. I don't know, Mr. Slaney, Thomas Hounsley's name and the black heart he has too. My men like neither pirates nor friars or they would have gotten in the fight. We might not have sailed when we did. Well, the friars have the slaves, the most of them they say, and we have our good sailing captain. Now with this breeze at our stern, we should make England in fine time. You traded well at Malaga, I hope, Mr. Slaney. Yes, it was a prosperous voyage. Oh, you skipper, get away aboard. Pull him out for a look at him. It's an Indian savage, skipper. Well, bring him here. Come on, here, here, there we go. Here he is, skipper. We found him down the hatch. He's one of them at Malaga, skipper. Eh, so he is, the one that got away from the friars. Aye, skipper, men of God save Squanto. Oh, your name's Squanto and you speak a little English, do you? Ah, ship, yes, two, three moon. Hunt and shipment, speech, me and brotherson. Hunt, Caesar, say, aren't big water. You'll take Squanto home now, maybe. That way, west? Oh, so he sees you there. No, we're not sailing to the New World. Take him below, men. Here I found him. I have first come at him. Take hold of this Captain Barse, Squanto. Now run for it. Oh, we'll have sport with this, lovecock. Aye, if there ever was a lovecock, an Indian's won. Captain, what would your men do with him? It's a Captain Barron, Mr. Slaney. He's a stowaway and an Indian, besides. Stop them, Captain. I have an idea. I don't know if I can, Mr. Slaney. He's a stowaway. Captain, I'll pay for Squanto's passage and food. You pay? He knows a little English. I have business in the New Found Land. This Indian may be of use to me. Bring the Indian here, men. Bring him here. Please, please not hit Squanto more. Oh, Squanto, you're all right if you do as I say. I'll help you if you'll help me. Squanto, thank man of God. No, I'm no man of God, Squanto. Just a trader. You'll take me home now? We can't take you home now. This boat's going to England. We'll go to my home in London. It is a Sunday afternoon in London in the year 1615. In quiet sheltered temple gardens, Mistress John Slaney walks with the bronze-skinned Indian Squanto, who is dressed in 17th century London fashion. Tell me, Squanto, did you like the service this morning? Did you understand any of it? Squanto understood a little, mistress. What I understood, I liked. It was the words of the green pastures and the streams. Would you say it for me, mistress, for I liked it? Sometimes, Squanto, you amaze me. I will say it and you say it after me. I will try, mistress. Very well. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He maketh me to lie down in the green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. Yes, Squanto. That is a beautiful passage, yet you seem sad when you say it. Does it make you unhappy? Before I go to my father's, mistress, I wish to see my land again and my people. I want to see the meadows where I ran as a boy and the streams I knew in the forest. Of course you do, Squanto. Your own green pastures and your own still waters. We all want that. The Lord is your shepherd, Squanto. He will lead you there. Why did he lead me from there, mistress? Why does he keep me from there? We cannot always know his purposes, Squanto. Yet he is your shepherd. Believe it. Maybe he does not want me to go back to my home. But I do not understand why. So Squanto longed for his home and his people, but the land beyond the big water was far away and ships were few. Two years went by. Three. Four. Until Squanto, heart sick and lonely, despaired of ever seeing the land of his fathers again. Finally, in the year 1619, a ship did bring him again to Cape Card Bay. He saw once more the familiar hills and forests, his own green pastures and still waters. The ship's captain and Squanto leave their small boat on the shore. A few Indians peer timidly from the forest as the pair of strangely clad men walk a little way inland. The Indians hide in fear as the strangers reach what was once a clearing, now overgrown with brush and bramble. Here, Captain Gerner, here was my home. You must be wrong, Squanto, surely. You've been away so long you don't know where it is. You've come to the wrong place. No, I'm sure. This was my home. I know every tree and rock. There, under that pine, I made my first boat. And over there on that hillock, my father taught me how to draw it. Here we played together. And there in that field, we sowed the grain when we were older. Well, then, Squanto, your people have gone away? Where have they gone? Surely some sign will tell me. I must know, Captain. Squanto, hadn't you better come back to the ship? Wait. Wait, Captain. What have you found, Squanto? Bones, Captain. Bones whitened by many snows. Why did the white man take me away? Why did you not bring me home when I wanted? Now you bring me home too late. I would be happier dead with my people. The white man's guard leads me here too late. Maybe not, Squanto. Ask those Indians in the woods there. They may know. Yes, they may know. Brothers, we come in peace. I am dressed like the white man, but I am an Indian. My name is Tisquantum. This was my home. Welcome, Tisquantum. Me, Somerset. Me here of Tisquantum. Aye. You are not of this place, Somerset. Yet I am more stranger now than you. Where are my people, the Pachanocates? Tisquantum, Pachanocates, all dead. In great sickness. My people? I am sorry, Squanto. What will you do? Will you come with me? I do not know what to do. No, go away, Tisquantum. You home. You live with us, this great Sietchem as I saw it. You come with Somerset. Make home. I thank you, Somerset. I will go with you and live among my neighbors. I want to forget the white man's ways and forget the way it was meant for me. But the homeland to which the Indian Squanto had yearned during those long years of heartache and loneliness was not the green pastures and still waters of his search. Little by little he resumes his life as a wilderness Indian. And as the moons come and go, rumors come to the village of the Wampanoags of strange events that have happened down the coast. Rumors of a ship called the Mayflower, of stern-faced men clad in black, wearing broad-brimmed hats, belts with silver buckles, and great sweeping cloaks. Somerset, see them, Tisquantum. They hear three moons. Are they English, Somerset? English, aye. Somerset, talk with them. Walk in their village. Yes. In the land of the white men, I heard them talk of settling in our land. Do they come in peace or what? They say friends. I tell them I bring Tisquantum. No. No. Come, Tisquantum. Come now. No. I have suffered too much with white men, Somerset. They have many beads, knives. They give to Somerset and Squanto. I don't want beads and knives. But white men starve. No food all winter. White men die. Many in ground already. We go now. What, Somerset? They die? They are strangers in a strange land. I know how that is. I was a stranger in their land. Some of them helped me. Now I can help them. Come. We go to Massasoit. And after a council with a great sage in Massasoit, Squanto and Somerset, together with three score Indians, tracked through the forest in single file mile after mile. All are streaked with paint, deep red, black, yellow. At last the Indian band enters a small sarcade where a company of white men in black cloaks are standing. Massasoit waits with his braves a little distance behind Squanto and Somerset, who advance with raised arms. Greetings, Englishman. We glad see Somerset again. Somerset, bring tribe and friend. Aye. Friend here. His Squanto. Somerset, tell friend, welcome. There's hardly any need of that, brother. Accept my word, we come in peace. Why, you speak our tongue as we speak it. I lived four years in London. My name is Squanto. Or Squanto, if you will. Well, come forward, friend, come forward. Welcome, welcome indeed. I am John Carver, governor of this plantation. We are glad to come to you, brother. Massasoit wants to help you. You need only to look about you, my friend, to see how badly we need it. We've done everything we can, but we... Well, we're starving. Perhaps it's best we sail back home. No, don't go. I come to tell you the great Massasoit wishes to be friends with you. He offers you the pipe of peace. He... he understands gifts. Yes. A copper chain or two. A buckle and, well, one of your hats. Or a coat. Yes, yes, I see. Well, thank you, Squanto. Bid Massasoit come forward to us, and we'll smoke the pipe of peace. Somerset, go back and bring Massasoit and his braves to us here. Aye, sir, Squanto. Governor Carver, you should not starve in this beautiful land. The forest and the waters and the earth itself are rich. I will help you. This place was my home. We would be grateful to have you stay with us, Squanto, but we have little here. My brother, this peace treaty with Massasoit will bring you friends who will help you, as I will. I have talked with Massasoit, and his terms are fair. Neither he nor any of his people will do hurt to any of your people. If any do, Massasoit will send him for punishment. If anything is taken, he will give it back. And when our people come to you, they leave bows and arrows behind them. This treaty of peace and friendship negotiated by Squanto lasted 54 years. But security and peace were not to be the lot of Squanto, nor the pilgrims with whom he made his home. A messenger from a new and struggling settlement to the north brought word of crop failure and possible starvation. And added to this plight came disturbing word of Indians who were envious of Squanto, and who demanded that the pilgrims send him back to the forest. Faced with a double dilemma, the Plymouth governor calls his elders into council. Before them stands a messenger from the new colony at the rear of the room, to Squantom. As I say, Governor Bradford, our crop has turned out badly. Our settlement hasn't enough food to last a fortnight, let alone the winter. We need immediate aid, sir. We beg you to help us. I know, I know. What can we do? We've little enough here. Brethren, we can discuss this later. I say it's more necessary that we decide to rid ourselves of Squanto now. Send him back to Massasoit. Remember, Miles Standish, it was Squanto who saved our lives. It was he who taught us how to hunt and fish and how to plant the corn. He saved our lives and this colony. But it's the third time Massasoit demanded Squanto, and now he sends his knife to Squanto's head and hands. Brethren, we either send back his head and hands, or deliver him over to Massasoit. And I say it once. It seems to me we'd better not be too rash, just because some of Massasoit's braves are jealous of Squanto. And I say it seems to me we'd better not invite Massasoit to go on the warpath against us. We can't afford trouble. Not now. Send Squanto back and be done with it. Brothers, I will go. But listen to me before I do. There's nothing you can say, Squanto. You'd better go at once. Just a minute, Miles Standish. What is it, Squanto? Brothers, it is about the colony without food. They have a ship. If you will let me, I can take you to a place around the Cape on the warmer shore. There I know we can get enough grain for both colonies. I will take you there. And then I will go. Squanto, take us to this place. And I pledge my word that this shall be your home. The little ship set out with Squanto as guide, but autumn storms drove it back with many too ill to go on. Even the hardy Miles Standish gave up. Again they set out, and again the winds almost wrecked the ship on the shoals. At last Squanto succeeded in taking them to the farther shore. And in storm and rain were day and night, persuading the natives to trade precious corn and beans so that the two colonies of white men might survive the winter. And in doing so Squanto fell ill of fever. And as he lay in a rough Indian dwelling, pilgrims gathered in the cutting wind outside and waited in prayer. Within, Governor Bradford bends over the stricken Squanto. Governor Bradford, brother. Yes Squanto, I am here beside you. Rest. It is my last rest. I know. No, no Squanto, it is not so. I thank you, but it is to be. It is a sweet rest I go to now. Your life has been a marvel of God Squanto. He will be good to you as you have been good to us. The Lord is your shepherd. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. Yea, though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I will fear no evil. That was almost 318 years ago. Yet recorded for posterity in the pages of the history of the Plymouth plantation, are written these words. Today we obtained eight hogsids of corn and bean. A little before sundown our dear Squanto died, faithful to our service. His last words were a prayer that he might go to the Englishman's God in heaven. We know that he will, for we have always known that he was a special instrument of God sent for our good beyond our expectation by the hand of William Bradford. So the Indian Tis quantum takes an honored place in the cavalcade of America. Thank you Sam Jaffe. We're honored to have you as our guest on the cavalcade of America. And now before we hear from Dr. Monahan about next week's program, we have a story from the wonder world of chemistry. This year marks the 150th anniversary of the founding of the American patent system. That brings to mind an amusing story of an official of the patent office in Washington, 107 years ago, who quit his job because he thought there was nothing left to invent. Yes, that was 107 years ago. Nothing left to be invented? Why, almost everything you can think of has been invented during the century since then. The telegraph, telephone, electric lighting, automobile, washing machine, vacuum cleaner, the radio, airplane, television, and a whole range of major chemical achievements. Why, you yourself could probably list dozens of things that have enriched America's life since that day when a man in the patent office thought everything worth doing had already been done. Even today you sometimes hear pessimists complain that there is no opportunity left in America. The pioneering is all finished. The frontiers have all been reached. Well, this is true as far as land and problems that confronted the pilgrims are concerned. In the recent issue of the New York Daily News under a headline, Chemistry, the New Frontier, a number of important chemical developments of the past 10 years were listed. Among them were DuPont's nylon, DuPont's neoprene man-made rubber, and two of DuPont's newest plastics, lucite and butasite. The writer pointed out that the next frontier in industry and science is the chemical frontier. But just as the telephone and the automobile had made life happier for millions of Americans, so new chemical discoveries are on their way to make life pleasanter for all of us. On this far-flung frontier, the frontier of chemistry, the research chemists of DuPont continue to advance. And just as new towns sprang up where America's pioneers forged their way, so thanks to enterprise and venture capital, new industries often arise behind the advancing step of chemistry in their long, hard search for new ways to provide more comfort, more conveniences, greater well-being for all. Hundreds upon hundreds of the factories, thousands upon thousands of the men and women who are busy today making more useful and beautiful things out of materials that have but recently come from the laboratory. Tomorrow, there will be more. On this mighty new frontier, the never-ending frontier of chemical science, the DuPont Company, with full confidence in America's future, works to make good its place, better things for better living through chemistry. And now, Dr. Monahan. Once more, it is a pleasure to give you a question which will be answered on the Cavalcade program next week. This evening, we presented an important but little-known episode in the story of the Pilgrim Fathers. Next week, we present a new angle on Thomas Jefferson and the writing of the Declaration of Independence, a story dear to the heart of every American. Here is the question. Why do we celebrate the Fourth of July as Independence Day when Congress actually voted independence on July 2nd, 1776? Thank you. The orchestra and musical effects as usual were under the direction of Don Vourie. Next week, the Cavalcade of America will present John Beale of stage, screen, and radio fame as Thomas Jefferson in an original radio drama based on a story by Marquis James. This is Thomas Chalmers saying good night and best wishes from the DuPont Company. This is the National Broadcasting Company.
