The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont. Ghost town. City of illusion. Wind echoing in the yawning pit heads of abandoned mines. Wind shrieking among shadows that once were miners' shacks. Millionaires' mansions. Saloons. An opera house. A fine gingerbread hotel. This is Virginia City. Ghost of the gutted Comstock load. The biggest bonanza in history. Tonight on the Cavalcade of America, DuPont presents the story of the legendary Comstock and of Eilei Bowers, the woman who played so great a part in its making. Our play is adapted from Vardas, Fisher's great new novel, City of Illusion. Our star is Agnes Moorhead of the Cavalcade players, portraying Eilei Bowers, the queen of the Comstock. Ghost town. City of illusion. It is the 15th day of November in the year 1903. A carriage draws to a halt before a crumbling and deserted mansion. And three old ladies dressed in black enter the house. Are you sure this is the Bowers mansion, Mr. Watson? Yes, and that's their pictures there still hanging over the mantle. Mrs. Bowers. That's Mrs. Bowers. And the other one must be Mr. Bowers. Why, she must have been real handsome. You ladies didn't know her when she lived here? Oh goodness, no. She was just another lonely old lady, living in a hotel like ourselves. Except... Except for her memories. Well, no. No, it was more than that. It was this place. She made us feel it was really important to bring her back here when she'd gone. She's never really been away. None of them have. Yes, they don't call them ghost towns for nothing, ma'am. You mean you think in this house... She always said she'd come back to live here. And when people say that, they usually do. Even after they're dead. Gracious. Believing in ghosts at our age, Matty. I'm surprised at you. Let's look at the rest of the house. Yes, I'm still here. But not just here in this mansion. I was queen of the Cumstock. Look for me over the hill. Sagebrush covers the stones. Patratch shelter there. But what you see is illusion. Look behind the veil of time, and you will see us as we live down there, in Virginia City. There were others there, too. Listen. Howdy, Ily. Mr. Bowers, where have you been? I've been looking all over town for you. Wells Fargo Post come through. Zayagrosch is found frozen to death up on the pass. Does Ethan Grosh know yet? Found Ethan dead in his cabin. Run a pick into his foot. Game Green said him. Mr. Bowers, did the Wells Fargo man say whether they found any papers on Zayagrosch? No, just a letter. He took it on Easter. Then we must act quickly, Mr. Bowers. What are you driving at, Ily? Mr. Bowers, I think the riches of Sun Mountain are about to be revealed. We're going to be rich. We must make plans. Rich? Where Ily is? Here comes old Cumstock with his ears wide open. No need to shush Sandy, Miss Cowan. Old Pancake knows all about it. Mr. Cumstock, you'll state your business and be on your way. Mr. Bowers and I are discussing our gold mine. Gold? Then it's gold. Mr. Cumstock, have you jumped the Grosh brothers' claims? Madam Cumstock Mountain, previously known as Sun Mountain, has always belonged to me. It was I who mapped it, I who drew the chart. You mean you stole Ethan Grosh's drawings. Miss Cowan, now ain't you ashamed talking that way to an old man? You're an old thief, Mr. Cumstock, but'll it do you no good? Miss Cowan, I wish only to be loved and remembered. I'll give Cumstock Mountain to whoever wants it, but this place will always be known as the Cumstock. Now you mark my words. Mr. Bowers and I want only our twenty feet that's already staked out. You're welcome to them, Miss Cowan. Thank you, Mr. Cumstock, and good day. Oh, yeah, and good day, Miss Cowan. So long, Pancake. Eileen, how did you come by all this knowledge? I have it in me to know. It lies southeast by south, and then, well, never mind that. We have more important things to discuss, Mr. Bowers. To begin with, you and I are to be married. Married? Why, Eileen? Since we're to be rich, I think it'll be more suitable after we're married for you to call me Mrs. Bowers. Oh, yes, Eileen. Now then, tell me, what did you find up the gulch today? Well, there's a muck up the gulch, Eileen, quite a piece. A muck? And the Grosh brothers weren't telling the truth. It's not gold after all. You said it was... It's silver, Mr. Bowers. A coin of the realm. I could use a little coin, I reckon. Yes, yes, that's true. Now go and take a bath, Mr. Bowers, and we'll discuss our wedding. Stand still, Miss Callan. All right. Now brace yourself. There again, that table, so as I can get a purchase on it. All right. That's it. Now I try once more. Could you suck in a little more down front? That's the best I can do, Louisa. Then I'm afraid it's no use, ma'am. I'll never be able to get you into these corsets. Nonsense, Louisa. I've been married twice before in these corsets. They'll do for this wedding as well. Well, hold real tight, ma'am. Here we go! Mr. Bowers. Huh? Mr. Bowers, why aren't you dressed for our wedding? Oh, it's these here pointed shoes, Eileen. Can't I wear my boots, maybe? Not to your wedding, Mr. Bowers. Oh. Here, I'll help you get into them. All right, Eileen. Mr. Bowers. Yes, ma'am. Did you use the hot water I sent you to take a bath? Oh, sure, sure I did, Eileen. Mr. Bowers, you're a liar. You're a patient stooge. What? Our children like them. They're Uncle David's. Oh, are we這些� Après-MC educational talent? If we were to know what they're doing in these corsets, we wouldn't make them promise them like, if we're rallying in a casket. Oh, don't I think you're getting to a better boil, Eileen? Well, that was because I'm a foolish man, I'm the Marshal Paul... Excuse me, Reverend. Yes, Miss Cowan? That's a very pretty speech and all that, but Mr. Bowers' feet are hurting him. We just want to be married. Oh, yes. Yeah, I see. Very well, then. You, Lemuel Bowers, and you, Eileen Cowan, I pronounce you man and wife. And so the curtain falls on the first act of City of Illusion, brought to you on the cavalcade of America by DuPont, maker of Better Things for Better Living through Chemistry, and starring Agnes Moorhead as Eileen Bowers, the Queen of the Comstock. City of Illusion, the fabulous 60s. It is Eileen's wedding day. Gosh, Eileen, you and me married after all these years. I'll try to make you a good wife, Sandra. I guess I sure am lucky, Eileen, being hitched to a smart lady like you. Do you love me, Mr. Bowers? Oh, of course I do, Eileen. Then you may kiss me. Oh, Eileen. Howdy, folks! Oh, howdy, Jen. Heard you folks got hitched. Congratulations. Well, see you later on. Oh, what's your hurry, Jen? Gotta get up to Gold Hill. Got my claim. Got your claim? How come? Look out over the mesa there. See you on the hill, Sandy. I wonder what got into him. Mr. Bowers. What is it? Look out over the mesa there, like he said. Well, look, Eileen, it looks like a dust storm coming up. That's no dust storm. Look again, Mr. Bowers. Eileen, it don't seem possible. It's like I told you, Mr. Bowers. They've heard we struck it rich up here, and they're coming up to steal what they can. Like a swarm of locusts, far as you can see. I'm sure they're coming up to steal what they can. They're coming up to steal what they can. Wagons and horses and mules, and some of footnet. Well, there must be thousands of them. Easily, Mr. Bowers. And this is only the beginning. Howdy, Sandy. Buy me a drink, will you? Oh, sure, Julie. Hey, Joe. Sandy, quick. Duck down quick. Now, Sam, look at what you've gone and done. Killed another man. What'd you have to do that for? I didn't like the necktie he's wearing. You keep this up, Sam Brown, and you'll be wearing the necktie made out of rope. Listen, sister, there's ain't Boston. This is Virginia City. Oh, yeah? It ain't enough these poor fools getting killed in the mines every day because of them rotten timbers. You gotta come around shooting them in their time off. Well, you ain't doing it in no place where I work, Sam Brown. So get out of here before I bust this bottle over your head. All right, sister. If the black crook saloon don't like my silver, I'll take it somewhere else. Rattlesnake. Sandy, why don't you and your wife never come to call on me? Oh, well, Julie, you see, I'll leave. Well, she thinks you've got too many gentlemen friends, Julie. That's a good one. Hey, what's going on over here? A convention? Howdy, Julia. John Mackey. I heard you struck it rich. That's right. I aim to own every mine in the Comstock before I'm through. Now, that's the kind of talk I like to hear. Oh, boys, I'll see you later. So long, Sandy. So long, Julie. Oh, Mr. Bower. Yeah? Tell your wife I read her statement in the enterprise about holding on to a mine. Tell her I wish her luck, but I aim to have it. There's a blizzard that delayed me, Ali. A cough got bad and I stopped for a little brandy. And there wouldn't any brandy do but the brandy and the black crooks alone. Well, who was there, Mr. Bowers? Sam Brown. Who did he kill? Wasatch. Good riddance. And Julia Bullitt. Did you talk to her as well as the town murderer? Oh, now, Ali. She does a lot of good, doctoring the men that gets hurt in the mines, feeding the men that's down on their luck. But what she gets from them all aren't. However... Oh, Ali. You ain't yourself lately. What's got into you, honey? You didn't use to judge the harsher folks. There's a time of judgment. I feel it in my bones. Well, ten o'clock, Mr. Bowers. Time it was in bed. Mr. Bowers, wake up. Mr. Bowers. What? Listen. Oh, sounds like thunder. In the midst of a blizzard, staunchest, Mr. Bowers. Getting louder, Ali. I'll go and... No, Mr. Bowers. Don't open the door. Look out the window. Ali, it's a snow slide, a regular avalanche. The whole far side of the valley's covered. It's still coming. Close the storm shutters over there, Mr. Bowers. I'll see to these. Yes, Ali. Now then, kneel down, Mr. Bowers. We're going to pray. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. I see the sun. I will make the world a better place. Ali. The cabin is buried, Mr. Bowers. But the snow is soft. We'll have time to dig ourselves out. All right. Bec and I better get the shovels started. No, wait just a moment, Sandy. In case one of us don't get out, I want to tell you a few things. First of all, I've laid in some provisions. Flour and beans are buried under the floor. You know this was going to happen? Sandy were to have a child. That's why I used the money for this instead of starting on her mind. Baby can't eat silver. Now it's for the others. Oh, gosh. I bet they never stored a thing. They've stored plenty of whiskey. You can bet on that. But they're not to know about our hiding place. You understand, Sandy? Yes, I do. Supper's ready, Mr. Bowers. No, I can't eat nothing, Ali. Take it to them people. What happened? Pack train come over the pass with a load of flour? Get the flour raw right out of the bags, Ali. That's how starved they was. Don't shout, Mr. Bowers. You'll wake our baby. Poor old fella. How is he, Ali? He don't seem to gain much. It's a hard time to be born, Mr. Bowers. Ali, do you think we've done right? I mean, keeping our food store a secret? We had our own to think of, Mr. Bowers. Hard woman, Ali. I had to be to keep us alive. Now listen, Sandy. When the snow thaws, we're going to begin digging our mines. Then we'll build our mansion. The silver doorknobs, like you said? Silver is a good metal. It has a good shine. You'll have to wear different clothes when we're rich, Mr. Bowers. No, Ali. We'll give a grand party when we open our mansion, Mr. Bowers. But Julia Belette will not be there. Nor Sam Brown, nor any of the other thieves and murderers and fancy ladies. And who'll you get to come? Only the best people. Someone has to set an example for Virginia City. That'll be us. Such a lovely party, dear. And your mansion. It's amazing. That silver all came out of my own mine. It was worked up by artisans in Paris, France. Imagine. And there are portraits of you and Mr. Bowers. Who was the artist? Well, Ali and me never could pronounce them Italian names, but he was a real art artist, all right. Well, I'm sure he was. Mr. Manke? Yes, Mrs. Gellhorn. Have you seen these exquisite portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Bowers? Well, not bad, Ali. What do you mean, not bad, Jim Manke? They're real hand-painted pictures. Mr. Bowers, stop pulling at your collar that way. Yes, as I was saying, Mr. Manke. Mr. Bowers and I intend to establish a real society here like they have in Paris, France. Only the best element of Virginia City will be environment. Yes, I was wondering where everybody was. Well, shall we dance, Mrs. Gellhorn? With pleasure, Mr. Manke. Bowers! How dare you, Ali! Why, it's Julia Ballet. Howdy, Julie! Sandy, how did you get to them? Oh, Ali, I can't believe... You got you all tricked out, too, Sandy. I must say you look better in your work clothes. Julia Ballet, you wasn't invited here this evening. I'm not here for a social call, Madam Money Bag. I'm not good enough for your junk shop here. But I do know where your money comes from. It comes from my mind, which Sandy and I staked out legal. Go up there to your mind now. I hope it makes you sick. What are you talking about? There's another cave-in. They just started digging the men out. Men are dying so you can act like your queen of the Comstock. That's the more bandage you need. Hey, Luff, this man's dead. Get him out of here. That makes twenty. We dying this rat hole on Ali Bowers' gallivance around Europe. What's that you say, Luff McCoy? Oh, it's you, Madam Money Bag. Look at these men. This is your fault, Ali Bowers. Are you crazy, Julia Ballet? What are you doing on my property anyway, you... Go ahead and say it. It's not as bad a word as murdering. You dare say that to me? Yes, I dare. Oh, you aren't the only one. Others are worse, maybe. But they start with the rest of us the winter of the snow slide. You kept yourself fat while I sucked the marrow out of the thigh bone of a donkey. We all knew you had food hidden away. We were just too weak and sick to kill you for it. I had my child to think of. You call that skinny rat a child? Not anymore. He died on the boats. I'm sorry, Mrs. Bowers. But I'm not. Not really. Oh, I don't know what I am. Here we sit on top of enough silver to bring on the millennium, and what do we see? Corksters and broken bones. Your husband is very ill, Mrs. Bowers. Shall we talk about it alone? Well, don't you leave me. Mr. Bowers can hear what you have to say, Doctor. It's his lungs. There's nothing I can do. Let me know what happens. Good night, madam. But, Doc... Ily, something I've got to tell you. About the mind. Better try to rest now, Sandy. Tell me in the morning. No. The morning will be too late, Ily. I made a mess of things. I was drunk, and I signed some papers. You mean the mind is gone? I'm afraid so. We ain't even rich now, Ily. It doesn't matter, Sandy. What'll you do, mother? I'm leaving you without even a roof over your head. Don't fret yourself, Sandy. I'll always be queen of the Comstocks. Always. Who wants to be rich, anyway? Ghost town. City of illusion. Virginia City. For there was an end even to the Comstocks. At the turn of the century, to a ghost of a mansion, three old ladies dressed in black have brought her ashes home. There's a task barrier here in the garden. It's overrun with weeds. This is where she said she wanted to be. Very well, ladies. Let us pray. Unto Almighty God, we commend the soul of this our sister. And we commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, earth to earth, earth to earth, earth to earth. You can't bury me. You brought me home, but you can't bury me. The stables are empty. The mansions up the hill are empty. The train won't run anymore and the tracks are torn up. There's no city now. Just empty buildings. Just deserted money. Just the air. But I'll be here always. Virginia City is mine. With tonight's cavalcade of America, DuPont brings you a story of the most precious thing in the United States today. It is time. Hours, minutes, precious seconds. The tools with which we mean to defend democracy are worthless unless they come to our hands in time. The race we have entered is a race against time. In the imperative business of clipping an hour off an assembly line, ten priceless minutes from a process, chemistry is proving itself a friend in need. Production of vital parts for trucks and planes has been speeded up by new DuPont electroplating processes, which give protective or wear-resistant coatings in much less time than was previously required. And another example, most of the rubber we use in this country goes into automobile tires. And tires for trucks and planes are rolling off production lines faster today because of DuPont rubber chemicals that hurry along the vulcanizing process. And something you might not connect with defense is the bleaching of cloth. But of the millions upon millions of yards of cloth required by the Army and Navy, cloth that goes into everything from uniforms to dodgers for the bridge of a destroyer, virtually every yard is bleached. In the past, fabrics were bleached one batch at a time. A batch of cloth was put into a tank and boiled for hours to remove the impurities, then lifted out and put into another tank where it was bleached for many more hours. After bleaching, it was rinsed carefully and then removed. Then another batch was put through the same cycle. Was there any way this time-wasting process could be speeded up? DuPont chemical engineers said there must be. And out of their research has come the greatest advance in bleaching in almost a hundred years, the continuous peroxide bleach. Suppose a manufacturer gets an Army order for 200,000 towels. He weaves them into strips with hundreds of towels in each strip. At the bleachery, the strips are twisted into long, loose ropes, and the ends are fastened together, making a soft, endless belt that can travel over wheels or rollers like any other belt. Around and around goes this belt in tanks of a bleaching solution perfected by DuPont, never stopping. Bleaching that used to take days now takes hours. Another time-saver is dynamite. Far down in the earth along the glistening veins of coal mines, special DuPont dynamites loosen tons of coal in an instant. Other dynamites break enough iron ore in a flash to keep the mouths of giant power shovels working for hours. And special DuPont dynamites used in seismic prospecting save time in locating new oil wells. Thus, in scores of ways, minutes and hours of the precious ingredient known as time are conserved by the chemist who brings you better things for better living through chemistry. Music Next week, the Cavalcade of America presents the distinguished American poet, Carl Sandberg, in the first of two new contemporary programs called Native Land, starring Burgess Meredith of stage, screen and radio. Native Land is America today and the effect of our great traditions of the past on this modern democracy of 1941. We hope you'll join us at the same time next Monday night when DuPont presents Native Land on the Cavalcade of America. Music At this time, may we remind you that you can join our nation's great defense effort by buying defense bonds at your local bank or post office. In support of Agnes Moorhead as Eile Bauers on tonight's program were the Cavalcade players with Frank Reddick as Sandy Bauers, Carl Swenson as Comstock, Betty Gard as Julia Boulette, and Kenneth Delmar as the narrator. Tonight's play was based on the novel City of Illusion by Vardis Fisher, published by Harper & Brothers and adapted for radio by Robert Tallman. The orchestra and the original musical score were under the direction of Don Voorhees. On the Cavalcade of America, your announcer is Clayton Collier, sending best wishes from DuPont. Music This is the Red Network of the National Broadcasting Company. Music Music
