Starring Dane Clark and John Beale in Storm on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the Jupon Company, maker of Better Things for Better Living through chemistry. But first, here is Ted Pearson with interesting information about two weed colors made by DuPont. Weed pulling and digging is a very hard and backbreaking job at best, and in the case of poison ivy, well, it's a dangerous one as well. Now, DuPont has two chemical products which destroy weeds, many kinds of weeds. Carmex 2,4-D weed killer, which comes in tablet form and is mixed with water, destroys weeds and lawns but doesn't harm the grass. The other DuPont weed killer is amate. Its quick and sure death is such noxious weeds as poison ivy, poison oak, and poison sumac. Both weed killers are easy and safe to handle. Simply mix them in water and spray until the weeds are thoroughly wet. Carmex 2,4-D and amate weed killers are two more of the DuPont Company's Better Things for Better Living through chemistry. The Jupon Company presents Storm, starring Dane Clark as the narrator with John Veale as Markley on the cavalcade of America. Man lived by the weather and trot. Man is made bankrupt by the weather. His works have destroyed his life pangs. But until the earth grows cold, the cycles of life and weather will go on. This is an incident in that unending cycle. This is the story of a storm. In January, the sun rides deep in Capricorn, far from the northern pole. Unbroken darkness lies over the Arctic. And from the ever deepening chill of that night, the cold air sweeps down. For two days now from death cold Siberia, a wide torrent of air has been sweeping southwards. The great wind poured over the desert of Gobi, stormed against the great walls, and merciless it swept down upon the plains of China. The river of air moves southward along the coast of China and then out over the sea toward the far reaches of the Pacific, carrying with it the dust of the desert. The freighter's course lay over a few west across the Pacific toward the coast of China. At nine that evening, the radio operator came on deck and spoke to the second officer. Wind shifted, hasn't it, Mr. Spencer? All right. Have you radioed the weather report back to the shore stations yet? Just about to. Something queer is happening. Look at the smoke from our stack. Hugging the water. Uh-huh. Something's getting ready to begin, all right. Well, I hope it's not for us. I want to be back in San Francisco by the end of March. My kid's birthday. Hey, that's funny. What? What is it? Four hundreds of miles at sea, but I swear I smell dust. An hour before sunset of that day, one section of the coast front hit a small island. This obstruction caused a break. The southern air no longer yielded passively to the northern, but actively flowed upward. Rising, this air grew cooler and from it, a fine drizzle began to fall. As from the union of two opposite germ cells begins to life, so from the contact of northern and southern air, there sprang something which before was not. A new storm was born. Weather Bureau. San Francisco Bay region. Say, Chief, I'd like you to take a look at this map. Huh? Anything special? We just received a report from a freighter, the Byzantium. Uh-huh. Three hundred miles southeast of Yokohama. There's a storm developing out there. Huh? Let's see yesterday's map. Sure used some rain. Here it is, Chief. Yeah. Looks like a fast mover. Keep an eye on her. Around the curve of the earth, the storm moves eastward, leaving Asia behind. Now a torrent of thundering wind and water and electrical energy, it swirls over the darkened waters. In 30 hours, it has grown into a great rushing river of air, five miles deep, five hundred miles wide. The congregation is poor and the church is bare, but the preacher's words illuminate. He, too, is of the land. He knows that the grass is withering and that his people suffer and are afraid. And if it be thy will, O Lord, on this thy day, send us the rain. As of old when thy people thirsted in the desert, thou didst command thy servant Moses to smite the rocks in Horeb, and the water did flow forth. So raise thy hand, O Lord, we beseech thee. The storm now moves fast and grows fast. Now on its fourth day, it centers between the Hawaiian Islands and Alaska. Its northern fringe sweeps Kodiak and Dutch Harbor. The rainfall grows heavier. The winds rise to gale intensity. Out on the Pacific, the storm is merciless to Byzantium. The rudder controls are smashed, and there is no defense against the batter and the pound of the waves. The men still keep team up, and the radio is working, and the crew wait. Weary and wet and bruised, they hang on minute by minute, waiting for the giant waves to hit and wondering when she'll stop breaking up. Powerhouse, Superintendent. Markley, this is the load dispatcher. You read about that ship, the one from San Francisco, caught in the storm? Sure. Any news on it yet? Yeah, another ship picked them up. They're okay. Two men lost. Now get this, Markley, that storm is moving this way. Be on your toes. We'll be ready. Okay. Get back to bed. Good night. Good night. Tough guy. Far around the great circle, a third of the world away, this storm has taken shape. Now in its sixth day, it is no longer a young storm racing its thousand miles a day. Now it moves with a steady, sure pace of majesty. Its coming is announced by neither thunder nor lightning, but along the beaches, the vast, unhurried pounding of the ground swell makes known that far off, some great force moves upon the water. What's the map look like, Kate? Finished, Chief. Yeah? There sure will be plenty happening in California today and tomorrow. Yeah, there sure will. Dwight, you get on the phone. Storm warnings, Cape Flattery to Point Conception. Small craft warning south of Conception. Right, Chief. Uh-oh, that must be the newspaper again calling for the forecast. I'll have it complete in five minutes, but tell them to set the headlines and get ready. It's rain. Kate, it's right here on page one. Rain predicted. Large storm nears coast. A storm of large lake. Take it out with that drooping jaw. It's gonna rain. The paper says so. It's gonna rain. It's gonna rain. Rain. The storm roars in from the ocean and strikes the mountainous coast. Along the 500 miles from Cape Mendocino to Point Conception, there is rain. Rain on the rocks and the headlands. Rain on the beaches and lagoons. Rain on the high grass slopes. Rain sweeping inland over the surface of the shrunken river, sweeping toward the broad valleys where the clouds were dry and the earth lay cracked. John, it's raining. Look, it's raining. Sure, honey, but don't get yourself all excited. It's only rain, not silver dollars. No, I was just... I'll get it. Superintendent, speaking. This is Markley. Any of your men away right now? A couple of them went to San Francisco. Get them back. Check the dam and all the dangerous spots in your line. Anything wrong? Not yet, but this rain's the beginning of a storm. When the bureau says it's gonna be aurora. Right, we'll get right on it. Okay. On of the guns. What's the matter, John? The LD's worried. About this rain? No, honey, about a storm. Over thousands of square miles, the rain is falling, the wind swirling, and the clouds are creeping closer and closer to Earth. In the mountain region, on the edge of a canyon, stands a dam and a powerhouse, linked in the vast network of power and light. And here, too, stands the home of John Markley. Happy birthday dear Daddy. Happy birthday to you. Surprise, Daddy. Well, you did surprise me, you little son of a gun. Happy birthday, Johnny. Thanks, darling. Thank you, son. Let's cut the cake now, huh, Mommy? Let's cut the cake. Oh, after we've had our dinner, Paul. But I can give him his present now, can't I? Present? Yes, dear. Here, Daddy. From your ever-loving son and wife. Open it, Daddy. Open it. Well, let's see now. Wow, son of a gun, a new suit. Put it on, Dad. It's double-sided. Let's see. Put it on. Sure, fella. After we eat. Oh, it's swell, you know. Just a couple... Oh, dear. Keep your fingers crossed, honey. Oh, dear. Powerhouse, Superintendent. Markley, the French Bar 60KV line just went out. We patrolled every inch of that line. Couldn't find a thing. I'm not blaming you. But get your men out now. How's the storm up there? Plenty of bad weather. You can't see a hundred feet. Okay, Markley. Get your men going. Well, there it is. You and Paul go ahead and eat. Aw, you didn't even try on your suit. Later, slugger, later. And be sure you save me some of that cake! You are listening to Storm. Starring Jane Clark as the narrator and John Beale as Markley on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Over all the valley, rain is falling. On seeded land and stubble, on pasture and fallow and orchard, it pours upon the fields of new wheat and barley. It turns the alfalfa bright green. Against all the long ramparts of the coast range, the storm is beating. Now in its fourth day, the storm has taken a tremendous toll on property damage. Six lives have been lost. The rivers are rising fast and in many parts of the state, emergency crews have been mobilized to fight off possible floods. At the Sacramento Gage this morning, the reading was twenty- From Fisker to San Diego, the storm ruled its domain. Over all of central California, six days of rain saturated the earth. And now the streams move toward the valley. Into the North Fork, and the South Fork, and the Middle Fork, the water pours out from every side canyon and gulf and gully. The streams pour out from Willow Creek and Pilot Creek, from Mickebaka Creek and Widow Creek, from Devil's Creek, and Robbers Creek and One-Eyed Creek. Out of them all and a hundred more, the waters come foaming. Johnny Martley wakes in the night. His house is near one end of French Bar Dam and close to the lip of the canyon. The house is of wood, solidly constructed. He can feel the tough timbers give before the wind pressure. He hears the crash of the rain. Oh, Johnny. Johnny, what is it? Cloudbirds. There'll be a lot of water down the North Fork. The dam will probably be full to the top now. Suppose it stills over. Oh, now Rose, stop worrying. Then why don't they open the suitcase? Relax, honey. They'll give me the order when the time comes. I've never seen it as bad as this. By dawn at the French Bar powerhouse, everything is awash in the cloudbirds. The gang is out tending to the line. Johnny Martley, half drowned under the downpour, is trying to do a dozen things at once to control the water. Johnny? Hey, Johnny! Yeah? Telephone. Coming. Look at him. So true to the bone. It's a load defect. Well, Martley speaking. What's happening up there? The water's up close to the top of the dam now. It should spill in no time. Okay, get the men to open the suitcase. They're away working on the KV breakdown. I'll have to go myself. But you can't handle it alone, fella. The dam's not one of your modern babies. I'll have to handle it. If that dam goes, the valley goes. Okay, boy, do it your way. I'll send help if I can. I'll be waiting to hear from you. Good luck. Thanks. Johnny? Johnny? I gotta get to the dam, Rose. What's the matter? There's a leak in the living room ceiling. Well, put a pan under it. When you're Johnny, Martley, you don't wait. You set about doing what has to be done in the very best way you can. You hurry along the narrow trail at the lip of the canyon, a dozen regoliths cascade off of the space to the floor of the canyon, 300 feet below. You pick your way along the trail, your footwork as neat as a lightweight box of paper. It's not a healthy time or a place for a slip. When the rain and wind strike against you, you crouch. You pitter yourself against the rocks on the upper side of the trail. You're in a hurry, but you take it slow. You've got to. All the way up to the top, to the dam. You cross over the narrow strip of concrete to the other side. You unpadlock the little steel door just below the overhang of the dam. You go in, close behind you, and snap on the light. You're in a narrow passageway inside the solid concrete of the dam. A few yards away is a hole just large enough for a man to descend. Far down the hole, one electric light after another, far apart, closed with a dull, wet glean, you lower yourself to the hole. Your foot finds a steel rung projecting from the concrete wall. Your hand cracks the upper rung. You begin to descend. Your shoulders and hips scrape against the concrete. The water drips down on you from above. You go down steadily without hurry. You have 230 feet to go. Opening the sluice gate of the dam by yourself is something to job on. The great dam, millions of tons, seems to press down on you. The air is so wet now you seem to be breathing water. I've got to hurry. Sure is a busy day. The water's washing away. A leak in the living room ceiling. Sure is a busy day. The lights, they blown. Maybe I opened those gates too late and the dam's spilling. That's all, brother. I'm finished. No. Easy, guy, easy. The lights are out, that's all. Might be for any reason. Sure. No jitters. That's stuff for the kids. The ladder's right here someplace. Walk. Do not run to the nearest exit. The ladder. Where's the ladder? Okay. Let's get out of here. There. Your right hand finds a steel rung, wet, cold, slick. You begin to climb upward and you count. One, two, three, four. You know every detail of the dam. You have to climb upward 230 feet. The rungs are 10 and a half inches apart. 269 rungs, hand over hand, foot following foot. 97, 98, 99, 100. You rest now. There is a pain across the chest and your ankles are numb. They're just a little. I gotta rest now. Cut the climbing, Doc said. Son of a gun, he knows his stuff. I gotta get out of here. You may be spilling too. Too much water coming in here. You move on. You take the next 100 rungs without stopping and you rest again. You take the last 69 rungs with a rush. You're wondering what happened to your powerhouse down below in the canyon. Did something crash? Are the dynamos okay? Was I too late? Is it spilling? You stumble toward the door where the light is leaking in. You fling open the door. You're too late. The dam is spilling. You're cut off by a solid wall of seething water. You're trapped. You look around for an opening. In front of you, only the sheer wall of the dam, the water pouring open. And behind you, a few feet away, the ground falls off and disappears into the canyon. No, I can't wait out here. Son of a gun, I gotta get down to the powerhouse. Those dynamos are as delicate as babies. Yeah, but daddy's up here, high on the side of a giant cup, and the bottom 300 feet down. But if I'm careful and lucky, maybe I can do it. Maybe I can belly crawl my way across, under the spill of the dam. But to get through this wall of water, I'm pinned on this slippery rock shelf like a butterfly on a blotter. Okay, stand still. Now, just look around. Right outside the iron door, you've just come through. You see a worn and rusted half-inch cable. It looks long enough. It'll hold a man just beyond the fall of water. Three rock stands close together, close to the rock shelf. You know that as you know every inch of the stand. You loop one end of the cable, and you pound it with a rock. You get a firm footing, and you throw the loop cable. Once, twice, doesn't catch. Seven times, eight times. On a 12th throw, it holds. You grab the cable, you feel your lungs full. You push out of the screaming space and head into the waterfall. You're swept across, and you hit and bounce off the side of the canyon. You're hanging in space, but you hold on. With every inch of it, you hold on. First, you don't dare move. Then you move your right knee, and you feel the rock. Only then do you loose one hand and move it up on the cable for a fresh grip. And slowly and painfully, you pull yourself up, up over the canyon's lip and onto the path. And with the water running out of your skin, you stumble down the path of the powerhouse. And suddenly, for some reason, you notice that your pants need to go now. Settle a good. Well, I'll have to find time to try on that new suit. The ninth day, the tenth and the eleventh. For eleven days, the storm had flourished and had been strong. And now, on the twelfth day of its life, the storm is dying. In the weather bureau, the chief traces a new storm wave forming off the coast of Japan. But the present storm, the great and terrible storm, is finished. The words of the preacher, the son of David, king of Jerusalem. The wind goes toward the south and turneth about unto the north. It whirleth about continually. And the wind returneth again according to his distance. Thank you. Jane Clark and John Beale will return to our cavalcade microphone in a moment. Now here is Ted Pearson. Last week in Detroit, Michigan, the center of the automobile industry, automotive engineers and designers gathered for a fashion show, an automobile fashion show, in which were exhibited a dozen cars of different models and makes, finished in new glowing colors never seen before on any automobile. These new Duco Metallichrome Nitrocellulose lacquer colors came from the laboratories of the DuPont company, where Metallichrome is the latest addition to DuPont's famous line of Duco lacquer finishes. Forty years ago, automobiles were finished by skilled coach painters. Quickly, boriously, they built up coat after coat of paint and varnish, waiting for each coat to dry and then rubbing it to a high polish by hand. Weeks, even months, were required. It was the invention of Duco lacquer which made the mass production of automobiles possible, in the sense that Duco lacquer provided a finish that dried in minutes rather than hours or days. And now we have Duco Metallichrome, which surpasses in beauty and durability and is formally used for this purpose. Duco Metallichrome lacquers are different in two ways. First, the hues are different. There are new shades in gray and green and brown, never before seen on cars. These new colors are made possible by a new technique for dispersing pigment. Some of them employ a new pigment material, both developments of DuPont chemical science. Second, Duco Metallichrome colors have a property which can be described only as a glow. They glow because they're translucent. Light actually enters the paint film and is reflected from within, instead of merely being reflected from the outer surface, as is the case with conventional opaque finishes. As a result, the colors have a subtle iridescent quality. They enhance the graceful flowing lines of the car. Not only are these new Duco lacquer finishes more lustrous and beautiful, but they're also more durable. This extreme durability has been proved by over four years of laboratory and road testing. Duco Metallichrome lacquer is a worthy newcomer to the ever-lengthening list of the DuPont Company's Better Things for Better Living through Chemistry. And now our stars, Zane Clark and John Beale. Good night. Music Zane Clark can currently be seen in Her Kind of Man, produced by Warner Brothers. The music for tonight's DuPont Cappellate was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Voorhees. Our cavalcade play was written by Milton Wayne and was based on the book Storm by George Dewey. This is White Week, inviting you to listen next week to the Petticoat Jury, starring Gene Arthur on The Cavalcade of America, brought to you by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.
