The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. The Cavalcade of America presents Kenneth Delmar in an original radio play by Robert Tallman called The Trials and Triumphs of Horatio Alger. Horatio Alger struck an authentically American note in popular fiction and to millions of youthful readers in this country, his writings represented a fundamental trait in the American character, the will to succeed. In support of Kenneth Delmar as Horatio Alger are the Cavalcade players. Our orchestra and the original musical score are under the direction of Don Burleys. DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents Kenneth Delmar as Horatio Alger on the Cavalcade of America. Oh, sir, cried young Phil, I swear to you it was not I who took the money. It was Bertram the bully of Bleaker Street accompanied by a gang of armed hoodlums. The wicked padrone snarled and raised a whip. What matter, sneered he? The money is gone. Julius leapt to his feet. Righteous anger quivering in every muscle. I command you, sir, ordered by a young hero, now master of the cruel bully, whom he had caught unarmed at last. I command you to release this lady and resort to her the property that is hers by the hold and hers. And what was I here as a ward young leader? He is now manager of the Brooklyn warehouse. He continues in the paths of virtue, even become rich. For the ragged tramp he had rescued was, as you may have guessed, none other than Otis Fitzsimmons Hastings, the wealthy importer wearing a disguise. Of such is the substance of over a hundred books which thrilled American labs for generations, the books of Horatio Alger, Jr. But little did the boys who read them know that the man who wrote them had his trials as well as triumphs, even as they. For though born into a prosperous home, the lad Horatio Alger knew disappointment early in life, as our listeners will shortly learn. Time to put your blucks away, Horatio. Your father will be returning soon. Oh, please, Nanny, just let me finish this tower. It's the Tower of Babel and it's gonna reach to the moon. Well, all right. But your father will be very cross with me if he catches us. Oh, there's Mommy. I want to show it to her. Mommy! You're not going to be able to do that. Look, Mommy, see what I've built. Oh, it's lovely, Horatio. Miss Cunningham? Yes, Mrs. Alger. Where did these blots come from? Oh, Mrs. Alger, I know the river in Mr. Alger for bad, but I couldn't bear to see the little lad fretting without proper toys to play with. So I brought them in, ma'am. I'm glad you did, Miss Cunningham. I'm afraid Mr. Alger's inclined to be a little too exacting with our boy. You like the blots very much, don't you, darling? They're the best blots in the world. I'm an engineer. Well, maybe we can induce your father to let you keep them. Oh, Mrs. Alger, there's the front door now. We'd better hide the blots. No, no, Miss Cunningham. This time we stand our ground. Well, evening, my dear. Good evening. Evening, governess. Good evening, sir. Father, look, I'm building the Tower of Babel. It's going to reach clear to the moon. What's this? Miss Cunningham, what's the meaning of this? Why isn't the lad at his studies? Well, Mr. Alger, sir, I thought... It was my idea, Horatio. The lad can't have all studies and no play. It's not human. So you call this the Tower of Babel, do you, Horatio? Yes, and it's really going to reach to the moon, father. You'll see. Yes, we shall see about that. Father, please. There. Sictrancit gloria mundi. Thus pass away the vanities of this world. Build your mind, learning as a structure no man can demolish. My beautiful tower. You've torn it all down. It's cruel, Horatio. That's what it is. Why can't you let our child have any pleasure? Not foolish pleasures. He may build, but not with blots, the Cathedral of the Mind, a great cathedral. If this happens again, I shall forbid you to see our son. Forbid me to see my own son? Oh, you're monstrous. I can't bear it. Go to your room, my dear. Most unseemly. Now, Miss Cunningham, here are Horatio's exercises for tomorrow. You'll see that he applies himself diligently. More Plato, Mr. Alger? Yes. To be memorized both in the Latin and the original Greek. Mr. Alger, I'm afraid you'd better get another governess for little Horatio. Why, what's the trouble? Aren't you well treated here? Yes, sir, I am. But I was employed to raise a child, not a pulpit. But enough of this joyless childhood. The lad's long hours of study were not entirely unrewarded, as we shall see. We next meet Horatio as a student of a great university. He's calling on a young lady in Boston, Massachusetts. Patience, I couldn't wait to tell you the news. My essay has won the Harvard contest. Oh, I'm so glad for you, Horatio. Oh, now you'll be able to go to Europe for your summer vacation, as you'd hoped. Well, I may not be going this summer, Patience. Oh, but you were looking forward to it. Why, I thought that was why you were so anxious to win the prize money. Oh, I found a much better use for the money. Well, tell me about it. Well, you know old Thurstone, who keeps the house where I lodge. You didn't let him weedle the money out of you. Oh, you're so trusting, Horatio. Can't you see he's a ne'er-do-well? Patience, you don't understand him. He needed the money more than I do. But this was your chance, Horatio, to prove to your father that you're meant to be a writer and not a minister. Oh, I can prove that right here at home. I'm working on a book now. And what's more, a publisher in New York has agreed to buy it. Oh, why, why you didn't tell me you were writing a book, Horatio. Well, I, well, it's a book for boys. It's not exactly literature, Patience. Oh, oh, I see. But I'm not doing it just for the money. It teaches a fine lesson, I think. It's about a boy who, though he was cruelly driven from home, endured his hardships with fortitude and won through in the end. Well, that doesn't sound very original, Horatio. Oh, I need to learn more to be a really good writer, of course. But in the meantime, I can pick up a living writing these stories for boys. Would you be willing to marry a struggling writer, Patience? Why, why yes, Horatio. Yes, darling, of course I would if it's you. I forbid it, I tell you, I absolutely forbid it. It won't do you any good to forbid it, Father. Patience and I both want to be married, and I'm not suited to be a clergyman anyway. You don't know what you're suited for. As for young Miss Stiers, I'll see to it that her parents take action to restrain her from this folly as well. She won't listen if they do. No matter, she's underage. Marriage can be prevented at any rate. Father, you wouldn't do that. You see whether I would? Very well. Then I'm through with trying to please you any longer. From now on, I'm on my own. I shall devote my life to becoming a great author. Patience will wait for me. I know. You, a great author. You who can't open your mouth without uttering some nonsensical platitude. I suppose you call this rubbish. The young miner, or Tom Nelson out west. I suppose you call this the work of a future great author. Well, at least it states certain eternal moral truths. How honesty and perseverance were rewarded with success. Style is something that can be learned. I'll go to Paris and study with the masters. Victor Hugo and all the great men of the Bohemian school. Ah, now we learn your true motive. You hope by becoming a Bohemian. By emulating the sinful lives of those who have succeeded in the shameful modern school, you too can gain distinction. Well, you can't. Throwing away your soul won't give you a clever mind. I should know better than anyone. I tried to educate you. But even as a child you preferred to play with blocks. You are enjoying the reception, monsieur? Ah, yes, very much. I haven't had a chance to meet many people. See, I'm all alone in Paris. Alone in Paris? I did not think it possible. Ah, yes. I suppose loneliness is a penalty one must pay if one is striving to master an art. Oh, you are an artist then, eh? Oh, but of course. I might have known the goatee in the corduroy suit. Yes, artist of course. Well, I...I hope to be a writer some day. Ah, then we are colleagues. I too am a writer. Perhaps you have read me. I am Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo. Why, I've hoped, I've prayed I might meet you, the master of modern literature. Let us not fatigue ourselves with acknowledgments, eh? Perhaps I might be of assistance to you, who knows? Tell me what work you are engaged in. Well, it's still in the formative stage. I mean to construct a large canvas, as large as life. It will be a trilogy, the three sections titled past, present and future. Yes. That will require a very large canvas. Yes. Tell me, you are an American? Yes, how did you know? Because you have big ideas. Europe is too small for such grandiose notions. Go home to America, Monsieur. Write just what you see and know and feel about it. It may not be great, but you will never have cause to feel ashamed of it. For your work will be the measure of your audience. Why, Mr. Alger, when did you get home to America? Just a few days ago. I came straight here, Mrs. Stiers. How is Patience? She's ill, Mr. Alger. Better ill. What? Come, I'll take you to her. Ill? But what is it? It was a fever. It came suddenly. She kept asking for you. Why didn't someone write me? Well, it's all right now. Don't stay too long, Mr. Alger. She must save her strength. Yes, yes, I know. Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Stiers. Patience. Horatio, what is you at last? I'm home for good, dear. You must get well quickly. Horatio, if I shouldn't get well... What are you talking about? Well, I... I might not. You never can tell. Oh, it's so good to see you. I thought I... I mean your father said... What did father say? Oh, it doesn't matter now. You're here. Tell me about Paris and... And are you a writer yet? Not yet, dear, no, not yet. I have to make a living, you know. I signed a contract with a publisher to write a few books for boys. When I get that money, I'll be able to start my real novel. Oh, it'll be great. I know it will. I only wish... What do you wish, dear? Oh, I just wish... You're tired, aren't you? No, no, don't go, not yet. Just sit here with me for a while. Listen to me, my dear. I must leave you for a short time. Duty calls me to New York, but I shall be back. And you'll be proud of me. And then I'll never leave you again. Say that again. Just like that. I'll never leave you again. Come on, hurry up. Bring some more snow. He's swimming out of it. Yeah, maybe we'd better tie him up. No, just hit him again. That'll keep him quiet. Please, please. There. That'll keep him quiet. Hey, hurry with that snow. Oh, no worries. Come here, come here. I've got an idea. What are you doing with this poor boy here? Oh, what's that all about? We're making a human snowman. Hey, fellas, come on, let's go. A human snowman? What do you mean? Get that snow off that boy at once. What did he do to you? Nothing. He's just a chink. We're hazing chinks today. But why? Why, I don't know. We just got... Get that snow off him and bring him here to me. Hey, you're not a low man. We don't have to do what you say. Yes, you do. Here, you come along with me, sonny. Do you like China boy? Of course. Where were you born? On the street. Well, then you're not Chinese at all. You're an American, just like these other boys. Am I really, mister? Certainly you are. Come along. We're going to get you thawed out. Where's your home? At the news place, Liza, in the house. That's too, too blank. Well, then you come along with me, Wing. You let me walk right along beside you like, like white boys? Of course. You're going to walk with your head high from now on, Wing. Now then, tell me about this news boy's lodging house. Oh, it's fine, home. Costs three cents lodging, six cents food every day. Much expensive. Why you don't come live with us? You smart learn us from books. I'm afraid they wouldn't let me live there, Wing. I'm too old. Mr. O'Connor let you stay, you see. All right, Wing, we'll see. If Mr. O'Connor will let me, I'll stay and teach you boys. That's a promise. No teeth for a wing, mister? No, no, I really mean it. I'll tell you a secret, Wing. I've always wanted a son of my own. But, well, I guess I never will have one now. Why? Well, the lady I love, she went away, you see. Mother of Wing, she go away too. Wing have no father. Well, Wing, if you'd like it, I'll be your father. Like Richard's father, buy me shoes. Shoes and anything else you want, Wing. I think we're both going to be a lot happier from now on. And now, boys, now listen, I want to welcome back an old friend of the Newsboys Lodging House, Mr. Horatio Alger. Boys, boys, I don't want to talk a lot because I'm a little worried. I don't want to talk a lot because I know you're all waiting to get at that ice cream. I just want to remind you of some of the things I've been telling you right along. There's no telling how far you boys may go. But you have to work hard and study. You want to be respectable citizens and you want comfort in your old age. When the going gets too hard, just keep thinking ahead to the future. Now get busy on that ice cream. Nice to be home again, eh, Alger? Oh, Gran. But where's Wing? I don't see him around. Why, send him on a little errand. He'll hurry back all right to see you. Hey, fellas, listen, it's a fire engine. Hey, come on, let's go out. Come on, Mr. Alger, don't you want to see the fire engine? Sure, sure I do. Let's go. Hey, look at him, look at him. Come with me. Hey, Mr. Alger, here comes Wing around the corner now. Hey, Wing, look who's here. Dad, Daddy. Wing, no Wing, don't cross now, stay there. Wing. Oh, my son, poor little boy. It hurts very much. It shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have happened. You stay home now. You stay with Wing here. Oh, he's gone, Mr. Alger. Oh, the poor little tyke. My poor little boy. Why, O'Connor, why does it happen like this? It wouldn't have happened that way. In your book, would it? Would it, Mr. Alger? No, no, it wouldn't. Would it? Ladies of Worcester, we've called this meeting to consider the books of Horatio Alger. Of course we know he's insane. He's even moved into a newsboy's lodging house in New York bagged in baggage. Shocking. I never heard of such a thing. Yes, but ladies, ladies, what has all this to do with the literary merit of Alger's books? Well, ladies, I must agree with our dear minister. Mr. Alger's personal eccentricities have nothing to do with the question. But what of the literary merit, Mr. Smith? Surely you agree that his style is atrocious. Atrocious? Well, that's an unkind word. Mr. Alger doesn't write for you and me. He writes for schoolboys. Is it necessary to have a bad style in order to write for schoolboys? Well, apparently some adults find it readable. In fact, Mr. Elbridge-Garry of New York told me that Alger's book, Phil the Fiddler, was an important influence in the founding of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Seems to me that alone would entitle Alger to a place on our library shelves. Well, ladies, we have heard from both sides now. Shall we take a vote? Yes, I think we should. Very well. All in favor of removing the works of Horatio Alger from the public library of Worcester? Aye. Opposed? No. The motion is carried. Trash, they say. Not fit for youngsters to read. No, Mr. Alger, don't let it worry you. As your publisher, I can assure you it doesn't mean a thing. Now, when can we expect the last chapters of Sink or Swim? I'm not going to finish it. Not going to finish it? Alger, have you gone mad? Bookshops are clamoring for it all over the country. The suppression of the libraries has increased the demand. Why, this book will make you rich, Alger. I don't care, rich. I'm working on a serious book. On a grand scale, like Tolstoy. A real work of art. Well, that's fine, Alger. I'm sure it will be a real work of art, but you've got your young readers to think of, you know. Why, sure. They're begging for a new Alger book. You can't let them down now. Well, I suppose not. But after this one, you've got to let me alone. You've got to let me prove that I have talent for another kind of writing. Absolutely, Mr. Alger. It's a promise? Shake. Very well, then. I'll have the rest of Sink or Swim in by the end of the week. Good day, gentlemen. Good day, Alger. Good day. Phew. That was a close one. It certainly was. And make out a contract for his next one before he changes. Funny thing, how these popular writers have delusions about their own work. For his sake, I hope you'll never find the time to write that great novel he's always talking about. A visitor to see you, Mr. Alger. Your sister. Come in. Come in. Just a few minutes, ma'am. He's old and tired. Yes, yes, I'll remember. I brought you a few books, Horatio. Thank you. It was good of you to come, sister. We never saw much of each other in our lives, for brother and sister, did we, Horatio? And I guess now... And now I'm dying. No, I can't die now. I must still haven't written my book. There's still time, maybe. I write fast, you know. If I could just... Don't. Don't fret yourself, brother. Just try to. There's so little time. That's the trouble. There wasn't enough time. I know. Over a hundred books, not time for the one book I really wanted to write. It's taking shape already in my mind. Heroic and compassionate. I can still write it. Can't I, sister? Yes. Yes. Of course I can. They'd only bring me pencil and paper. So I could really write. Oh dear. There, Horatio, don't take on so, darling. You've written enough. Horatio Alger never wrote half enough for the boys who read his books. And to the arguments of those who condemned him, history has a ready rebuttal. Against the charge that his rags-to-riches formula was not true to life, there stands a scroll of immortal biographies in the American scene. For while Horatio Alger wrote, Thomas A. Edison was selling newspapers. Charles M. Schwab was driving a hack. And the late, great John D. Rockefeller was out of a job. Yes, Horatio Alger was simply telling the old American story that is forever new. The Cavalcade of America thanks Kenneth Delmar and the Cavalcade players for their performance of the story of Horatio Alger. And now DuPont brings you news of chemistry at work in our world. Chemistry may be thought of as a shortcut. Much of the research undertaken in DuPont laboratories is a search for quicker, more efficient ways of doing something or making something. For example, the winds and weathers of nature, if we wait long enough, will keep a farmer's fields in good condition. Lightning will manufacture nitrogen and rain will carry it into the topsoil. But because the chemist has learned a shortcut, the farmer can give his land the nitrogen it needs by buying a bag of DuPont Uraman fertilizer compound without waiting a million years. A million years is too long a time to wait. Or take another example. Nature gives us linseed oil. On exposure to the air, linseed oil forms a tough film, and it's good for mixing paint because of this film. It dries reasonably well in three or four days. But three or four days is a long time, too. Can't we invent another film that will dry faster, asks the DuPont paint chemist? And today, thanks to paint liquids created by man, we have DuCo lacquers and Dulux enamels that dry in a few hours, even in some cases a few minutes. Sometimes we shortcut our way to something merely pleasant or attractive. Or if we're fortunate, beautiful. The compounds we call plastics have long been known in nature. Nature gave us amber. Resin from the bark of trees hardened through the centuries was gathered carefully and sold for high prices as a semi-precious stone, although it often contained dirt, pine needles, even insects locked away in its transparent prison. The modern chemist gives us pyrrolein, plasticine, and lucite plastics. More beautiful than natural resins can ever be. Pyrrolein, ranging in effects all the way from tortoiseshell to mother of pearl. Lucite, looking as cool and clear as the water of a mountain spring. The rich, flashing colors of plasticine. Here are jewels more brilliant, more lustrous than jewels in nature. And anyone can afford to buy beauty in plastics thanks to a chemical shortcut. Then again, a chemical shortcut whisks away almost overnight the drudgery of centuries. The worrisome business of carding and spinning yarn out of wool used to keep the pioneer women in their log cabins up half the night. The fleece had to be washed and carded by hand, and the fibers laboriously twisted together on a wheel. Today, the chemist makes nylon yarn from coal, water, and air, and rayon yarn from cellulose by liquefying it and forcing it through jets in cups called spinnerets. The finished yarn can be made shining and lustrous or dull. It can be given any desired thickness, any number of filaments. Chemical shortcuts that improve on nature give us, in the words of the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. And now the star of next week's program, Anne Starrett of the Cavalcade Players. I had rather not live than not be the daughter of such a man. We are listening to the words of Theodosia, the daughter of Aaron Burr, whose growing story we bring you next week. Aaron Burr was an erratic genius whose mad dream of empire rocked the foundations of our young republic. But beneath its fateful folly, the tender devotion of his daughter Theodosia is one of the great stories of loyalty in our history. That story we bring you on next week's Cavalcade of America. Our cavalcade play was based on the book, Alger, a biography without a hero, by Herbert Armais, published by the Vanguard Press. On the cavalcade of America, your announcer is Clayton Collier, sending best wishes from DuPont. This is the National Broadcasting Company. The National Broadcasting Company.
