The Cavalcade of America, sponsored by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents Basil Rathbone in The Hated Hero of 1776 with Ruth Warwick. Tonight with Basil Rathbone as its star, Cavalcade retells the story of a man who loved freedom more than any other thing in life. He was Thomas Paine. Our play written by Raphael Hayes and Robert L. Richards is based on the best-selling novel by Howard Fast, citizen Tom Paine. Cavalcade presents Basil Rathbone with Ruth Warwick in The Hated Hero of 1776 on the Cavalcade of America. 1775 and the martial beat of drums, the relentless beat of marching troops echoes from one end to the other of the thirteen colonies of America. For in the minds of men in the fall of 1775, confusion, doubt, uncertainty. Is it to be peace or war? Is it to be a policy of appeasement and reconciliation? Or is it to be rebellion, armed, bloody, and uncompromising revolution? And then across the land is heard a voice. Bring the doctrine of reconciliation to the touchstone of nature and then tell me whether you can hereafter love, honor, and faithfully serve the power that have carried fire and sword into your land. The voice is the voice of Tom Paine, and what he wrote is common sense. A thing to stir the hearts of his countrymen as nothing else would stir them in a hundred years. But if you say you can still pass the violations over, then I ask, have your house been burned? Your property destroyed? Your wife and children destitute? Have you lost a parent or a child? If you have not, then you are not a judge of those who have. But if you have and can still shake hands with the murderers, then you are not worthy of the name of husband, father, friend, or lover. You have the heart of a coward and the spirit of a sycophant. The home of George Robideaux in the Philadelphia of 1775 was much like any American home in time of crisis. The debates, the questions, the arguments, the voices of the weak and of the strong. And the debate tonight in the home of George Robideaux, as in a hundred thousand homes throughout the land, is on Tom Paine's common sense. With old Robideaux was his niece Irene, her young brother Jamie, and an admirer Mr. Jackson. Isn't your objectives, I'm opposed to Mr. Robideaux, it's the method. And who isn't Mr. Jackson? Bloodshed, burning, and pillage throughout the whole countryside. But it's gone too far to back up now. It wouldn't have if it weren't for men like Thomas Paine. Why the man's bloodthirsty. Why he's the kindest, gentlest man who ever lived. You know this Thomas Paine? Yes, we know him. Irene knows him perhaps as well as anyone ever can. He's a strange fellow. A rival, Irene? Hardly that I should say. I admire him. Who could help but admire him. He's got the courage to speak the truth. And that's more than could be said for a lot of our fancy friends. Jamie darling, please. I don't care, it's true. And what Mr. Paine wrote is true. We've got to fight. And the sooner we all find it out, the better. I know dear, perhaps someone will have to fight. But it's just that I hate to hear you talk that way. You're my little brother. I'm not so much younger than you, Irene. And if I'm old enough to get married next week, I'm old enough to say what I think. Well, wonder who that could be. Were you expecting someone, Irene? Well, I'd... Mr. Thomas Paine, sir. Tom, come in, come in. Thank you, sir. But it must be only for a moment. Good evening, Irene. Jamie. Good evening, Tom. This is a friend of mine, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Paine. How do you do, Mr. Paine? We were just speaking of you. Not too unkindly, I hope. Can't you stay a while, Tom, or are you off somewhere again? I must be, I'm afraid. I wanted to pay my respects and say goodbye to you all. But Tom, where are you going? To New Jersey to join Washington's army. The army? Oh, Tom. Are you surprised, Irene? No, I don't think I am. Mr. Paine, why must it be this way? Why must there be armies in a ravaged countryside and sorrow in every home? Because, sir, while men may be reasonable, tyranny is not. Mr. Paine. Yes, Jamie? Will we, will we win? Jamie, when a man has borne hunger and humiliation and oppression until he can bear it no longer, when the wrath of a plain peace-loving people is at last kindled into flame under a tyrant's lash, nothing under heaven can stand before it. It will burn and devour and rage until the evil that provoked it is consumed, and out of it will rise a vision, a way of living among men. Yes, Jamie, we will win. Yes, now I know we will. Well, I've talked too much again. Forgive me, it's late. God be with you, Tom. Come back and see us. I shall. Goodbye to you all, Mr. Jackson. Good day, sir. Mr. Paine. Yes, Jamie? I'm going with you. No, no, my boy. I don't care what you say. If it's worth talking about, it's worth fighting for. Jamie. Don't, don't you want me to come? Jamie, you're to be married next week. Yes. Marry her then. Talk it over with your wife and with Irene and your uncle and think very seriously what it means. Then if you still want to come, we'll all be waiting for you. Yes, sir. Good night again. Good night, Tom. Good night. I'll see you to the door, Tom. Well, Tom. Goodbye, Irene. Tom, before you go. Yes. Will you kiss me goodbye? Irene. Oh, my darling. Oh, Tom, why must it be like this? You've done enough. No one could expect more of you than you've done. You heard what Jamie said. Yes, and I heard what you answered him. You told him to marry. I don't pretend to demand of everyone what I demand of myself. Perhaps it's because I'm a woman and a woman thinks of the future, Tom. A future life. Irene, there can be no future life unless men are willing to die for it. Tom Paine, come in, man. Come in. You look like a ghost. George, I've got to have a hundred pounds of paper stock. There's a pamphlet I've misprinted, and no printer will touch it unless I supply the paper. Tom, when did you eat that? I don't know. Two days ago, I think. Will you buy me the paper stock? Two days, you think? Are you mad? Will you buy me the paper stock? Irene. Yes, Uncle? It's Tom Paine. Get some hot food. Tom, you're back. Irene, he'll stay with us for a few days, Irene. Can't you understand, man? Philadelphia's threatened. That pamphlet of mine has got to rally the whole people now. Can't you understand? We're near the end of everything. Buy me that paper. Uncle, please. Stay out of this, please, Irene. Robodeaux. I've come a long way. Maybe I am a little sick, too, but what's that compared with what's happening in the snow on the Delaware? We're so close to the end, man. We can't lose now. We mustn't. Paine, I... I... All right, I'll get you your paper now. Sometimes you... Well, stay here with Irene. I'll go see Rittenhouse. Tom, tell me how's Jamie. We've heard not a word. Ah. I'm a thoughtless wretch, Irene. I might have known you wanted some use of Jamie. He's well. Truly. Far better than some thousands of other poor devils. The retreat must have been a terrible thing. Aye, all ruin and blood in the churned-up snow. Common sight. So was the one of grown men weeping. That was the hardest sound to bear, Irene. Grown men crying. God! An hour ago, God! An army, an army rotting down to 800 men, and people still eating and sleeping and laughing. Tom, you're ill. Why don't you stay here and rest? Here? In the same house with you? Yes, in the same house with me. Would you so entrap me, then, Irene? Come away with me now, Tom. You've done enough. There's still time for us. Irene, will you believe me if I tell you that there's nothing on this earth I'd rather do if I but had the choice? Then why not, Tom? No, Irene. There's too much to do yet. There's a war that's part of my making, and there's a crisis, a crisis now. And do you think a pamphlet will stop it? I don't know. A man does his best, that's all. And writing's the thing I do best of all. These are the times the tri-men sold. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will in this crisis shrink from the service of their country, but he who stands it now deserves the thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered. Yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. Or let it be told to the future world that in the depths of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and repulse it. I call not upon one, but upon all. And Philadelphia did not fall, and throughout the land the cause held that winter and spring. And in the hot summer of 1778, another American army waited near Brandywine Creek, waiting for the king's men. But the farmers and the shopkeepers still made mistakes and blunders. The general house men slashed the new army to pieces, cut it and routed it. The road to Philadelphia was open to the enemy, and in the city there was panic. Even old George Robideaux was preparing to flee the city with his family. If you can't get it in the cart, leave it for heaven's sake. George Robideaux, what's got into your man? We're packing up and leaving, that's what. But you can't go. We can hold the city. Leave us alone, Paine. We know what we're doing. We've got to go, don't you see, Tom? You expect us to stay and swing from the gallows, tories at our backs and redcoats in front of us? Jackson, our city is the best fortress in the world. Every street's a death trap. We can break the enemy like a stick of wood. Are you mad? Even Congress has pulled out. A thousand men. That's all we need, a thousand men. Don't be a fool, Tom. Come along, Irene. All right, then run to cover. I'll catch up with you, Uncle George. You'd better go too, Irene. Tom, Tom, listen to me. What is it, Irene? Look at me. Look at my face, Tom Paine. I'll never ask it again. Come away with me, out of all of this. Irene, no, not even for you. For me? When have you ever thought of me? You've taken my brother from me, you've taken yourself, and now my home's a battlefield. Oh, Tom, can't we have just a little happiness before it's too late? Irene, look at me. You see me what I am, you know me. A pamphleteer, a revolutionist. What kind of happiness would you have with me? Can't you let me be the judge of that? Tom, Tom Paine. Hi, Ben. Here, what is it? A Tory mob has been through the north part of town. They got an old man. We got there too late. Peters was his name. He was with the Washington on Long Island. Peters? I remember him well. We want to give his poor old bones a decent burial before the redcoats get here. Will you help us? Where is he, Ben? Out toward the Baltimore Pike. Tom. Goodbye, Irene. Will you leave me now just to bury one poor old continental soldier? I must, Irene. For in that grave, but for the grace of God, lies someone that you love. Will you say something, Tom? A speech? It's a lonely place down there till Judgment Day. Well, this old man died for something that was new in his lifetime. A thing called liberty. When he was a young man, it was only a dream. When he came to give his life for the dream of his youth, he had not much more life left to give. Yet perhaps he cherished it the more for that. Certainly he could not have given more. And in that gift, John Peters will live. For men in centuries to come who do not even know his name will do him honor as they honor liberty. Lower him now, Ben. Cover his grave. You are listening to the Cavalcade of America sponsored by DuPont and sending Basil Rathbone in The Hated Hero of 1776. Ruth Warwick plays the role of the opposite of Mr. Rathbone. The time of our play is the darkest days of the war for American independence when the cause of liberty seemed lost. Philadelphia was in the hands of the enemy. Bitterly, Tom Paine again took the long road out of Philadelphia searching for a shattered army. And in the winter he found them freezing to death at Valley Forge. He began asking for you, Tom, as soon as he heard you were in Valley Forge. Jamie Roberts. He took a bag of fortnight ago and he's been lying in that filthy hovel ever since. There's nowhere else to take him, Tom. A child. Aye, a child. And a soldier. Does he know about the city, Ben? You'll forgive me, Tom. You see, his wife was there. I know. What good would the truth have done? I told him we've got Philadelphia back. I understand. Here, this is it. There's a bit of a lighted candle on the ledge inside the door. Thank you, Ben. I'll do whatever I can for him. Tom. Yes? Don't let him know. I won't. Who's there? It's only me, laddie. Tom Paine, fresh out of Philadelphia. Mr. Paine? Come close. The light's bad in here. How are you feeling, Jamie? Poorly. Tom, tell me about Philadelphia. Did you see my wife? She's doing fine, Jamie. I had quite a chat with her before I left the city. A bit lonely, aye, but she'll be glad to see you when you get home. Aye, if I ever get home. Why, are you mad, Jamie? We'll both be back before the month of February blows itself out. What's inside my chest says different, Tom. It's hot. Hot. Lie still, Jamie. Lie still. He'll throw your blankets off. Mary. Mary. Jamie, lad. Tom, how is Irene? Irene is well. Will you marry her, Tom? One day. Perhaps one day. Tom. Yes, Jamie? Will you write a letter for me? There's pen and ink under the bed. Under the bed? Surely, Jamie. Here I have it. And there's a bit of paper in the... And there's a bit of paper in the pockets. Well, now, what will you say? I... I don't know. I... My dearly beloved wife, I sit here in the light of a candle, thinking of you, and I can see you clearly as a picture, standing there before the little glass, combing your long brown hair, your fine long brown hair, thinking, thinking your long brown hair. Here. Lad. Jamie. Give me your hand, Tom Paine. Surely. Do you want some water, lad? I'll be back. I'll be back tomorrow. Tomorrow at noon. Jamie. Jamie. Tom, are you in here? I... in the dark. It was a short candle. A bit of a thing. Burned out on you, eh? I... burned out on me. How's the lad? Dead. Oh. May his soul rest easily. Will you come out, Tom? How can I? What? He's still holding my hand, and it's like all the dead in this war holding it. How can I leave go, Ben? How can I leave go? But in the spring, the plow boys and the shopkeepers flocked to the encampment at Valley Forge, and the 4,000-starred veterans swelled to 12,000 men. And at Monmouth, Washington and the Continental Army smashed the King's men. Back... back to Philadelphia rode Tom Paine, back with a heavy heart to the home of his old friend, George Robideaux. Is this the house, Tom? This is the house, Ben. Will you be long? I'd like to hope I shall, but I hardly think so, Ben. Perhaps it would be better that I wait outside. I didn't want to ask you. I know. Well, then, I'll be here about somewhere. Thank you, Ben. Is Miss Irene at home? Miss Irene? Yes. Mr. Robideaux's niece. Ah, yes, sir. This way, if you please. Mr. Thomas Paine. Tom, you did come back. Did you think I would not, Irene? Tom, what of Jamie? I came to tell you that, Irene. He's dead. He was a good soldier. He died as a soldier should. And there was no word of him for so long I knew. Oh, Tom, he was only a child. I'm sorry that I had to come to you with news like this. I knew it had to happen from that first day, when he wanted to go with you. Do you blame me, Irene? No, Tom, I don't blame you. Not any longer. We've all changed. We've all changed in these years. Changed and been hurt and learned. Now I know you were right. We can't all see the truth at the same instant, Irene. Tom, do you remember Frank Jackson? Frank Jackson? Yes, he wanted you to marry him. He changed too, Tom. He joined the militia after we lost Philadelphia. He fought at Monmouth. He admires you very much. He is very kind. Perhaps one day I shall see him and can say so. Tom, I married him. Married? Tom, don't you understand? It was the only way I knew to cling to life. In the midst of all the horror, it was like the promise that you yourself were fighting for. That life can never end. That men can never die. I had to have that promise, Tom. Do you love him? Yes, I think I do. Irene, I can't stay. Tom, please, please don't condemn me. How could I condemn you? Then you'll come back to see us soon? Yes, of course, of course. Oh, Tom. Goodbye, Irene. Goodbye, Tom. And God bless you both. Well, Tom, was it as you thought? In a way, Ben, yes, in a way. Well, come and have a drink with me in any case. No, Ben, I'll be off. Off? Where to, man, at this time? I don't know. Maybe near, maybe far. You mean you're going away, Tom? It's all over now, Ben. The city is the people's now. There's nothing here anymore. Are you mad? The revolution's all but won, Ben. Nothing can stop it now. There'll be no more valley forges, no more retreats. Our liberty is won. Who needs a pamphlet here now? But, Tom, Tom. And the world's a wide place. Room enough to find a home in. But your home's here, Tom. You've said it yourself. Where freedom is. No, Ben, that's not what I said. Where freedom is not, there is my home. Thank you, Basil Rathbone. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Rathbone will return to the microphone in just a few moments. Meanwhile, here is Gaine Whitman with a message from DuPont. Tom Paine used quill and paper to convey the truth to the people of his time. Today, our enemies are learning the indisputable truth with the aid of science. News dispatches from neutral Switzerland tell of growing disillusionment inside Nazi Germany. For instance, quote, with amazement, the people realize they have been systematically misled by the Nazi party, unquote. One way they are learning is through photographs. Our planes, or the British, make a bombing raid. The German propaganda department says we didn't hit anything. But the next day, our planes fly over the Reich and drop thousands of tiny photographs. Photographs that show the actual damage. The Nazis may tell lies, but our photographs tell the truth. People in faraway corners of Germany learn what has happened to Hamburg and Cologne because we show them these pictures. The camera in this war has become a weapon of increasing value. Cameras used in modern warplanes must be able to take pictures while traveling through the air at the terrific speeds attained by military aircraft today. They must be able to operate at temperatures around 60 degrees below zero and withstand changes in pressure, temperature, and humidity as the photography planes dodge up and down through clouds and changing weather. German and Italian cities are photographed in broad daylight, at high noon, in fact, when shadows are least bothersome. Maps showing every street and house can be prepared from the photos. Clean, sharp color photographs are made today from as high as 30,000 feet. From three miles up, pictures have been taken which are so clear that motorcycle troops on the roads can actually be counted. You can see they are counted. Using special film and equipment, pictures by invisible light, photographs can be made which show mountain ranges more than 100 miles away. Aerial photographers make these sensational long shots by using film treated with dyes which make the emulsion sensitive to the red rays in sunlight. Photographs can even be made over enemy territory on the blackest night by dropping giant parachute flares that lighten an entire city. Moving picture cameras attached to planes record the machine gun and cannon bursts blasting enemy planes locomotives and seagoing craft. Such pictures are used in instructing new pilots in dogfighting and strafing. Both the Army and the Navy are using many thousands of feet of DuPont film in wartime and peacetime. One of the DuPont, better things for better living through chemistry. Of the many peacetime products made by DuPont, one that is still available to the public is speed easy wall paint. In these days when time is so precious, redecorating can be done more quickly, easily and economically by using DuPont speed easy wall paint. Speed easy is quicker because it dries in an hour, easier because it goes on so fast with brush or handy roller. It is economical because one coat covers soiled walls or dingy wallpaper. This fall save time and money with speed easy made by DuPont. And here is the star of tonight's cavalcade, Basil Rathbone. Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Tonight's plays serves to remind us of man's long bitter fight for freedom. Just as that ragged army of the revolution spent its blood and substance for precious liberty, we today are fighting to perpetuate that freedom. Our problems today in waging war are much the same as the problems in the days of Tom Paine. And the need for working together is even greater. Let's put over the third war loan. Call your local radio station and buy a war bond right now and an investment in liberty. Thank you. Next week, Cavalcade brings you another popular star of the screen, John Garfield, in an original radio play based on the landing operations under fire of the United States Coast Guard in the invasion of Sicily. It is called Continue Unloading and its hero is not a soldier, sailor, or a marine, but a Coast Guard photographer. DuPont invites you to be its guest again next week when we will bring you a story of a great U.S. Coast Guard cameraman in the greatest invasion force in history, photographing the landing of tanks, munitions, food, and freedom on the shores of Sicily. Our star will be John Garfield. Featured with Mr. Garfield will be Wally Mayer. Tonight's musical score was composed and conducted by Robert Armbruster. Basil Rathbone appeared tonight on Cavalcade by courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, producers of Thousands Cheer. This is James Bannon sending best wishes from Cavalcade sponsor, the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. The Cavalcade of America came to you from Hollywood. This is the National Broadcasting Company.
