Starring Frank Morgan in Names on the Land on the cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. But first here is Gaine Whitman. One of the most inspiring things about Christmas is the way it brings us together in our thoughts. Under the sparkling lights of the Christmas tree, the family in California and the family in Maine are thinking much the same thoughts this evening, feeling the same pleasure and tenderness, the same goodwill. And the men and women of the DuPont Company derive a little extra joy from the thought that many of the things which add pleasure to your Christmas are made possible or made better by chemistry. We find in such a thought the broader meaning of the DuPont phrase, better things for better living through chemistry. Frank Morgan appears through the courtesy of Metro Golden Mayor and is one of the stars of the MGM picture Yolanda and the Thief. The DuPont Company presents Names on the Land, starring Frank Morgan as the train conductor on the cavalcade of America. Millions of lights twinkle on the Christmas trees tonight in the little towns across our land which are home to the people who live there. And there are many, many Americans who are at home in those little towns this Christmas Eve for the first time in long weary years. The names of some of those towns are as familiar as the morning newspaper and some you've probably never heard of. So this first peacetime Christmas Eve, the cavalcade of America takes you on an imaginary train ride, swooping all over the country, seeking out the names of places which stand for home in such a special way tonight, the Names on the Land. Boat! Boat! Frank Morgan, your conductor on tonight's mythical train ride, will not only call out the stopping places, but in addition will tell you how some of the names actually came into being. How where you're going got that way. Boat! Where's this train go, mister? Go, this train follows old Saint Nick tonight. Goes everywhere, you see, a steamed up alphabetical train that runs from A to Z. Alicell, Bangor, Cairo, Deal, El Paso, Fiddle Town, Great Salt Lake, Happy Creek, or Igoe, Jackass Gulch, Knife Creek, Lovers Leap, or Mudville, Never Sink, Oh No, Pigeon Rooster, Quack Hill, Rabbit's Ear, Sea Conk, Tickle Naked, Unwag, Birdalow, or why not, X-Ray, Yonkers, Zig Zag. Screamerville, that's where I'm going, Julie, you heard of that? Excuse me, lady, I haven't got much time to stand around and chat, but before I let you on this train, now don't be highfalutin'. Did you give that there town its name? Screamerville, you're darn tootin'! Okay, lady, that's what I figured, step lightly up inside, don't need no ticket, you've named a town. That's the price of a ride. This train goes down the alphabet from Abbeville to Zion, and if we don't hit your town, it won't be for lack of trying. The men and women on this train are here for just one reason, they've wandered up and down our land both in and out of season, exploring it and founding towns and giving each a name, a name that's stuck down through the years and brought each place its fame. They'll tell you when and how and why each of his own accord, and now we're ready for the letter A, as I said before, boop! A's for Athens, a name of renown, and A's for Altadena, a name jotted down by a real estate agent. He wanted to sell many acres of land, but then there's Alice Hill, named for a lady. This train's first pause is at Animas, just unaccountably caused. Animas? That's my stuff. Though I don't much want to get off here, once was enough. Your business, sir? Retired now, was a cowboy then, was with a Mexican friend of mine riding over some of the hottest and driest country of this side of, you know where. Was looking for water, of course, when we finally found something, we found something else, too. Amigo, you see what I see? Looks like a creek. Yeah, looks as though we're not the first to find this water, amigo. Skeletons, two of them. Been here some time, I judge. Look at those pistols. They've been here for over a hundred years under the sun. These two men, amigo, I do not have envy for them, nor for their souls. Where was the priest to say a hail Mary for them, huh? Well, if it's any hotter where their souls are than it is right here. It is hotter, amigo. Well, at least we can pay a little honor to these two, huh? We call this place El Rio de las Animas Partidas en Purgatorio. What's all that mean? Well, Animas means souls. The river of the souls lost in Purgatory. Okay, okay, I'll just call it Animas. B stands for Bethlehem. But B also stands for Bangor and Back Bay, Barnegat and Baton Rouge, Bebe and Bear Wallow, Big Shot and Bird in Hand, Bogus Thunder and Bosky Dell, Brandy Gulch and Bridal Veil, Butcher Knife and Bunker Hill, Brooklyn and Bloody Point. Bloody Point? Say, that's the place where two strong men stood face to face and swore and shouted and waved their hands as to what divided their two lands. Boundaries the brook. Boundaries that patch other side of the brook. I said it's the brook and so does my sword. Sword is it? Oh, I'll give you your sword and fight you bare-handed and trim you too. Well, go on then, start something. You can be sure I'll finish it too. Well, then go on. I'll cross that line. What line? That one there. Cross it and I'll show you what's what. Dare you to knock this chip off my shoulder. I'll cross that line all right and fast too. I will knock the chip off you're not careful. Well, why don't you? Well, I will when I'm ready. Well, go on. I will, don't worry. Talk big they did and yelled and frowned but no drop of blood ever stained the ground. Their neighbors grinned and christened the joint. To honor the combat it's called Bloody Point. C stands for Christmas. Christmas? Yep, stands for Christmas Florida and Christmas Arizona too. It does, huh? Well, can't stop there. What? How come? Well, not tonight, son. It's too soon. Besides, think how busy they are in those towns just answering mail tonight. Hundreds of thousands of letters. But Mr. Conductor. This train will stop there, son, but not till midnight. C, C stands for Chili Gulch and Chimney Peak. C stands for Christian Flat and Chippickies Creek. It's Chucklehead Diggins and Cold Kid Creek. It's Chickopee, China and Cottonwood Creek. It's Curry He Mountain and Cutthroat Bar. It's Crazy Smith's Hill and Climbing Star. It's Cicero. It's Cato. It's Cairo. It's Rio. Next stop, D. There's not many towns that begin with D. Excuse me, ma'am, if I disagree. There's Della Rosa, Darrington, Danville, Dallas, Devil's Den, Downs, Socombe, Tew, and Darrison, Dial, Dayton, Dome, and Duxen. Yes, plenty of towns that begin with D where folks are trimming their Christmas tree. There's Dutch Flat too and there's Dogda Mona. There's Diggis' Hundred, Dry and Distoma. You make it very difficult. Difficult, difficult? Now, let me see. Yes, sir. That's another that begins with D. Difficult? Did I hear you all say difficult? That's where I get off. You name that town? Well, I'm afraid I... Maybe. You see, I was postmaster of our town and it didn't have no name at all. Well, sir, the boys around the store, the general store, we all got together and figured out a grand name. Yeah, what was it? Oh, I wouldn't dash try to pronounce it. It was a long, fine sounding name tucked from the Indians that used to live around our neighborhood. So anyways, we wrote to share a letter down, the name of the town, a piece of paper, all neat and pretty, and sent it to Washington to get official approval. Two weeks or so go by and big official envelope come back. It's our answer. Addressed to you, John. Go on, tear it open. Sure looks official, don't it? That's the right big envelope. No, now don't go on talking about it. Open it. Well, I'm a going to... What's it say? Not so fast, not so fast. I'm a reading it. Well? Well, it says here that... There's some right smart long words in the share letter. Well, really, it's a good one. They say here, the name suggested for your town is difficult. Difficult? Difficult. Well, it's a good one. They go on and they say here, the name suggested for your town is difficult. Difficult? Difficult. Seems funny, don't it? That's what it says here though. The name suggested for your town is difficult. Well, government's government. Difficult, they say it is. And difficult, Tennessee, it'll be. No passengers for EF or G, but I'll give you a kind of potpourri. I'll identify them as we go by them. Let's see. That's Eden we're now passing through. Took an advertising man to propose it. This was called Enola after much ado. Spells alone if you transpose it. Next on the E line is 84. For the date when it was founded. And here's Elmonica, what's that name for? Ah, they just like the way it sounded. Here's the F line. F, F. Sure enough, here comes the F line. Whole string of towns begin with F whose names got quotability, like Funny Louie, Frying Pan, Flyaway Fertility. They're hanging their stockings in Finnegan's Lane where the frost left its mark on the window pane. In Foxburg. Mr. Conductor, here we come to the G's and there's one town I'll name if you please. Young lady, I hereby name you a committee of one to tell us the name of your city. Gene Autry, Oklahoma we call our town. Named after the cowboy of great renown. Thank you, ma'am. Now let's go up there, take a seat and sit while I cogitate on the next letter in the alphabet. H, H, H, H. Hey, Trump. Well, that shouldn't be so hard. Let's see. I've got it. Hey, ain't I a card? This program comes to you as a Christmas program should. should from the NBC studios out in Hollywood. You were listening to Frank Morgan as the conductor in Names on the Land on the capital gate of America sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. And now all our passengers are once more aboard our Christmas train. Steam pressure is up and we're off on the second leg of our swift journey across America on this peacetime Christmas Eve. If this alphabetical train of ours is ever to get to Z, we've got to cut down the repartee and also the fiddle-dee-dee. Should you ask me what I stand for, ask which town start with this letter, I will answer you in trokies suited best for Indian powwow, paying tribute to the red man, first to name our hills and rivers, name our states and towns and mountains, such as Idaho and Illinois and Ichi Pukasasa, Indian Creek and Indian Bottom, Bees and also Indianapolis. Also till I stand corrected was a red man named Itasca, named it and... You stand corrected, sir. How's that? The word Itasca is no Indian word. Oh, your name, sir? Schoolcraft, sir. Henry R. Schoolcraft. The fact of the matter is, sir, that I and a friend of mine, Reverend William T. Bulkwell, being both of us in a canoe and both in search of the headwaters of the Mississippi, came to a lake called by the Indians Omoshkos, or in our tongue, Elk Lake. Elk. Yes. Having decided that this lake was the true source of the Mississippi, the Reverend Mr. Bulkwell suggested he was a Latin scholar, sir. Suggested that this lake was the Veritas Caput. Caput. A Latin phrase, which being translated roughly means... True source? Exactly. It was I who then, ingeniously, if I may say so, clipped the head off the first word, the tail off the second and arrived, dustily, I... I know, I task her. Precisely. On behalf of the letter J, introducing a former president named Jefferson and a former president named Jackson. Okay, gentlemen. Well, sir, countin' all the Jeffersons, the Jefferson cities, the Jefferson barracks, the Jefferson churches and Jefferson bills, I make it 41 times that my name has been put to a town or city in this fair country. 41? Eh, nice number for a beginner. Me, I got 53 towns and cities named after me. Eh, Jackson's my name. Oh, excuse me, gentlemen, what were you discussing? Just figurein' who has more towns named after him, Jefferson or Jackson. Appears as though I went out okay. 53. 53. Why, sir, I was never a president, but there are 58 towns named after me. And what, pray tell, sir, is your name? John, sir, just plain John. All passengers for Kanaka, KC, Keerless Knob, Kill Creek, Kind Woman's Care and Kittatini, change here, chums. That is, if you want to get home before Santa Claus comes. Next stop, Kansas City. Kansas City? That's me, let me off. Hold on, young man, one moment please. Your story first. How'd you name this town? Well, in 1838, this was only a piece of land and a general store, and there was maybe a dozen of us got together after we bought this land and the ferry land and where the cork comes into the Missouri. Place me wet was in one-eyed Ellis's general store. Gentlemen, gentlemen, a little order please. Any more suggestions for the name of our town? How about calling it Ramitsville? A serious suggestion. All right, if that ain't serious enough, how about Possum Trot? Hey, wait a minute, wait a minute. The Coral River enters into the Missouri just a piece of stream. Why don't we call the place Coral's Mouth? It's a rare pretty name and it's historical, and it goes back to the old engine name. Original engine name wasn't Coral, original Indian name was Kansas. What's wrong with that for a name? We're going to have a city here before we know it and our move we call it Kansas City. All right, all right. All passengers for Ladies Canyon, Laughing Gal, Lazy Lady, Louse Creek, and Movie Star. Change at Third Depot. All passengers for Milk Punch, Mud Creek, Mini Ha Ha, and Murderous Bar. Change here to Hang Your Mistletoe. Now Man Cow Rock and Morgantown. Morgantown? Well, there's a place of great renown. I can tell you how it got its name. It was an ancestor of mine of tremendous fame. My grandfather, Lewiston Boone Morgan. No Frank! No Frank! Oh well, all right. Now we come to the letter N. To Naked Mountain and Airy Red. To Nether Hundred and Never Sink. To Nicodemus and Nipple Butte. To Nonesuch and Notch Log. To Newport. Newport? Newport? Oh, that's my town. Newport, Texas. You named it? Well, sort of. Kind of. You see, in my town when we were starting it, there were seven of us. The other six all wanted a name after them. Shoot the lotto. Name it after anybody but me. My name's the only one. Who was here first? That's all I ask. And besides, mine sort of. Why, it's the lot of you. I got an idea, fellas. Now look here, your name is Norman and yours is Ezell. Yours is Welch and yours is Pruitt and yours is Owsley and yours is Ryger and yours is Turner, right? All right now, you take the first letters of each name and what you got? You got Newport. I done figured it out. That's a nice name. Name of our town is Newport. And now we come to letter O. Ah, gee, mister, must we go? Well, sis, we can pause just now and then, but weren't you through with friendly N? No. N stands for North Pole and for Northland. That's where Santa lives, I understand. And Santa's little people. Don't you remember? They worked so hard for the month of December. Absolutely right, Mr. Conductor. You mean to say you forgot all about the Northland and Santa Claus workshop at the North Pole? Think back a bit. Don't you recall Santa's little people at their work benches all day and all night making toys and painting dolls? Come on now, Mr. Conductor, you remember them. Working under those North lights and the little people singing while they worked? Here we go in the snow making games and toys, coasting sleds and dolly beds for good little girls and boys. Of course. Thanks for reminding me. Merry Christmas to you. Thanks, and Merry Christmas to you, too. Oxy-boxy is our O and pigsty is our P. And while we're at it, just to show that Q's no absentee, here's Quo-Quin-a-Pas-a-Quessa-Man-a-Gnog. You a gogg? I am, too. R stands for rabbit's ears and rattle and snap and also for richville, the poorest town on the map, and R is for the town where a preacher named Dow gave a sermon that led to reform and how. Reform they did and reform it became, and that's how the town of reform got its name. S, next stop, the letter S. S? S is for Scrabbleville. What are you? Gladly, madam, gladly. No need to shout. And S stands for something else, too. S stands for... Strange Creek. Strange Creek. Who are you? My name is Strange. I'm a surveyor. Years ago, more years than man can number, I separated from my companions and was lost in the forest. Years later, more years than man can number, I was found 40 miles from where I'd last been seen, my bones beneath a great beech tree, my rifle leaned against the trunk, the shot pouch still dangling, and men read in the trees smooth bark the words I'd cut with a knife. Strange is my name in a mon-strange ground, and strange it is I can't be found. T, the letter T. T stands for a town down in Texas, total population of 20. They'll thank you to smother your sneers. For this town, 20 is plenty. On Pearl Harbor Day, its name was Tokyo. Today, its name is still Tokyo. My name is Mrs. Ara Green. I'm Assistant Postmaster of Tokyo, Texas. People used to write and ask, well, we're going to change the name of our town. Well, our aim in the war was to change the other Tokyo, not this one. Any passengers for U? Any passengers for U-Cross, U-Sona, Utica, Utopia? Any passengers for V? Any passengers for Verene, Vernal Fall, V-V, Volcom? Say, Conductor. Yes? I'm getting off here. Well, you better be careful. The snow's pretty deep. Won't bother me, sir. Merry Christmas. Ho, Dona. Ho, Blitzen. Dona and Blitzen. Wonder who that is. As if I didn't know. To Wallabout, want water, the wart. To Woosung, whiskey bar, wolf pit. To Wynott. You say Wynott? Wynott? That's me. My town's Wynott. Well, how come it's Wynott? Wynott. Oh, go away. Xerxes and Xena and Xenia twice, and believe it or not, X-Ray. And, or did you guess, by special decree, X-mas. Now we've finished the Xs, six must suffice. Blow the whistle. We're on our way. This train is at its next to last stop. We've come to the letter Y. A century ago, a man named a name. He's here now to tell you why. It was March of 1851, and I was acting as interpreter for a band of California mounted militia chasing some hostile Indians up into the Sierra Nevadas. Well, toward the close of day, we come suddenly to the brink of a chasm. Its immensity magnified by the shadows and mists. As I looked, a peculiar, exalted sensation seemed to fill my whole being, and I said to one man, We should give this valley a name. A name? Yeah, question it. Well, maybe you're right at that. Well, what's your idea for a name? Something out of the barbers? Yeah, something romantic. Something Spanish-sounding? No, I'd suggest an Indian name. An Indian name? Are you crazy? Why should we name it after the guys we're chasing? Let's call it Paradise Valley. But I made a motion for them to vote on. The only name we could yet associate with the place, the name of the Indians whom we'd pursued to this magnificent spot. We call the question. All in favor? Aye. Opposed? Nay. Nay. The eyes have it. This valley will be called the Yosemite. Last stop, the letter Z. The Bible tells the tale of Lot who fled from sin and greed. Men of good will in later days sought haven for their creed. They built their town in wilderness, named it from Bible lore. The sun was risen in the earth when first they entered Zor. So our trains gone down the alphabet from Animas to Zor. We stopped as often as we could, wish we could have more. In most of the towns we've managed to get to, and in most of the ones we had to forget to, the men have returned. Best possible Christmas present so far as we're all concerned. Well, ring the bell. This Christmas train shuffles off the air in just four minutes flat. Time left to hang our mistletoe and let it go at that. We hope you liked America wrapped up in tinsel bright. To each one, Merry Christmas and to all, a fun good night. Merry Christmas! Our star, Frank Morgan, will return to our cavalcade microphone in a moment. Now, here is Gain Whitman. There was a star. What was more, it was a new star. It sparkled there in the clear blue night sky like a diamond lamp. Anybody could see it. There it was for everybody to see. But only a few men who looked up and saw it understood what it meant. Peace can be ours, they thought, recognizing its sign. And they went to make ready gifts to lay at the feet of the newborn babe who lay asleep in the manger. And because they knew what the star signified, we called them the wise men. We look at the world around us today and we ask, Peace? Where is peace? And we are saddened, for we feel that the world can have peace only when there is peace in every man's heart. And that time is not yet. But people said much the same thing in the day of the three wise men. Only the wise men saw the star and recognized its meaning. There is the moral. We shall have peace when we become wise. We shall have peace when we become wise in dealing with our neighbors at home and our more remote neighbors across the sea. Wisdom is the star in the heavens to which we must turn this Christmas. In the words of a great American, with malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right. And now, here is Frank Morgan. Well, we had a lot of fun tonight. I hope you did too. Next week, for its New Year's Eve broadcast, Cavalcade is prepared for your pleasure a play of the Old West, a fast moving suspenseful tale of the early Texas cow country. Walter Brennan will be on hand as your star. Take a tip from me and plan now to set aside a half an hour in your evening to listen to Ten in Texas, starring Walter Brennan on the DuPont Cavalcade of America. Merry Christmas, everybody. Music for tonight's DuPont Cavalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Ambruster. The Cavalcade play was written by Peter and Jane Lyon. It was based on the book Names on the Land by George Stewart. This is Jane Whitman extending to you on this Christmas Eve warm and friendly holiday greetings for myself, for the artists, writers, and technicians who bring you Cavalcade each Monday night, and for all the men and women of the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. This is the National Broadcasting Company.
