The DuPont Cavalcade of America starring Joan Caulfield and Ralph Bellamy. Good evening. Good evening. This is Joan Caulfield. This is Ralph Bellamy. Oh Ralph, I thought you were Grover Cleven, the famous bachelor president. I am. I thought you were Francis Falson, the pretty coed of 1885. I am. Well, what are we doing here? I thought we were supposed to be in the cavalcade story, Roses in the Rain. Oh, so we are. First, let's let Bill Hamilton of the DuPont Company have the microphone. Thank you. Good evening. Now is the time to get your family ready for rainy days. But whether you're shopping for rainwear, sportswear, or children's clothes, always be sure to look for the Z-Lan tag, the tag that means the fabric in the garments is treated with DuPont Z-Lan Durable Water Repellent. Fabrics treated with Z-Lan are resistant to non-oily spots and stains as well as to rain. They clean more easily too because they help keep soil on the surface. Don't forget, Z-Lan protection is durable. It lasts through many washings or cleanings. Z-Lan, spelled Z-E-L-A-N, is another of the DuPont Company's better things for better living through chemistry. Now, Roses in the Rain, an original radio play starring Joan Caulfield as Frances Folsom and Ralph Bellamy as Grover Cleveland on the DuPont cavalcade of America. Young man. Huh? Say, you oughtn't to sneak up on a person surreptitious like that, lady. Just how did you get into the corridor of the senior women's dormitory? Through the front door. I should think that was innately obvious. I'll thank you to be more respectful to the house, mother young man. What's in that box? Flowers, mom, and I'm only delivering them. Who to? Well, don't you mean to whom? Yes, yes, to whom? Well, the card here says, Mrs. Frances Folsom, Wells College, Aurora, New York. And the card on the door says this is her room. One side, please. Really? You should be reported. Oh, I often am, lady. Yes? Roses, Mrs. Folsom, from the sheriff, as per usual. Oh, thank you. The sheriff? Frances, what is this all about? Oh, he's sort of my unofficial guardian, Mrs. Block. He sends me roses, so I'll approve of his courting my mother. But, but the sheriff, why, he has nine children. You don't understand. That's just our affectionate name for the president. The president of what? Of the United States of America, President Grover Cleveland. Whom else? 1885, in Grover Cleveland, the bachelor president was in the White House. Fathers with marriageable daughters had secret hopes that there might be a first lady in their families. Maidens and widows said their nightly prayers facing Washington, D.C. But it was soon obvious that President Cleveland had a mind of his own concerning romance, as well as politics. That his heart was in Buffalo, home of Mrs. Emma Folsom and her lovely daughter, Frances. Celia? Yes, Mrs. Frances. They're right outside the window, like you said. How many? Three, Miss. A drum, a trombone, and one of those big, whatchamacallits. But I don't quite understand. The president's coming to see us tonight. Oh. And I have a very strong hunch he's going to pop the question to Mother. Oh, Derry, me how wonderful. The band's going to play Hail to the Chief the moment she says yes. But how will they know? I'll pull the dining room shade down. That's the signal. Frances. Here comes your mother. Frances. Excuse me. Oh, there you are. Are you dressed properly? Let me look at you. Do you think I should have worn this organ deit, Martha, sir? Oh, stop worrying, Mother. You look beautiful. Oh, do I really? I could try the blue taffeta. Somehow it does more for my... Oh, dear. Do you suppose that's he? Oh, I do wish I had time to change. I've told you, you look beautiful. Uncle Cleve will be absolutely overwhelmed. Frances. What have you been up to? Oh, nothing. Frances, if you try to play one of your infamous practical jokes on the president after he's come all the way to... Now she's the president, ma'am. Mr. Cleveland. Thank you, Senor. Show him in. Frances, I've warned you. Yes, Mother. This way, Mr. President. Grover. Evening, my dear. Evening, Frances. Evening, Sheriff. Well, it's all settled. What's going on? It's stopped in New York on the way up. National committee is already trying to throw a scare into me about next election, three years away. Settle it, I hope. Yes, I'm sure you did, Cleve. You're looking well, Emma. Can't say that I ever remember you looking so well. Oh, thank you. I came to see you this time for a very special reason. Well, I'm sure you too will excuse me. I'll see about some coffee. Oh, no, no, no. Frances, stay here. I need your advice. Well, in that case, perhaps I'd better see about the coffee. You'd like some, Grover? I would. That is, well, as a matter of fact, I would if you don't mind. I'll tell Celia. Celia. All right, Cleve, out with it. How can I help you? Well, you see, I've had something on my mind for some time. A serious step, mind. You're very serious. In fact, marriage. That's wonderful, Cleve. It is, if the lady will have me. Now, do you think I should speak plainly, speak right up in meeting, or prepare for it more gradually? Maybe something of a shock after all this time. Oh, not too much of a shock, I'm sure. She's probably waiting for you to speak right up in meeting. Really? Well, Frances, we've known each other a long time, and since you think I should state it plainly, well, I'm in love with you, and I want to marry you. Me? But, but, Cleve, I thought... Well, Mother thought, are you sure you mean me? Certainly, certainly, my dear, I mean you. What in thunder is that? Oh, dear, that's the band I hired. Mother must have pulled down the shade by mistake. Buffalo, June 25th. Dear Cleve, Mother hasn't been feeling too well for the past week. A bit of a shock, you know. And we decided that a trip to Europe will be most beneficial, change of scene and all that. So please be patient with me, Cleve, dear. I'd like to get a perspective on all this, you know what I mean. The roses you've been sending me are so lovely. I'm going to press one in a book to take along with me as a sort of paladin. My dear Frances, by all means take your trip. Trip is the best thing. And have a wonderful time, darling, but please promise me one thing. Be sure to say no to all those dashing young swains who will no doubt pursue you all over the continent. Shall we look at the moon from the boat deck, Miss Folsom? Wonderful perspective. Not tonight, no. Miss Folsom, perhaps you'd enjoy seeing my collection of mezzotints. Thank you, no. Mademoiselle, je vous adore. Un petit souper ce soir. Mais non, monsieur. In other words, no. Rolline. No. Miss De Nurene. No. Miss Folsom. No. Mademoiselle. No, no, no. Oh, Mother, please. Let's go home. No. No. Miss Folsom. No. No. No. Please, let's go home. I just don't like it a bit having to sneak into New York like a pair of criminals trying to avoid publicity. Oh, Mother, I think it's great fun having our own private landing party. You step down here, ladies. Watch it. Oh, dear. I'll never be able to step onto that thing. I'll help you. There you go. Oh, dear. See how easy it is? How about you, Miss? If I take a dive, I hope you can swim. Well, there. I made it. Captain Smith, what is your opinion of the Indian Emancipation Act? Really, Francie? Frankly, I'm against it, Miss. What do you think of the President's stand on the veteran pension question? Why, I... You must forgive my daughter. I just don't know what's come over her. Ever since we left for Europe, she's been talking about public opinion and strange things like that. Well, I think I ought to know about these things, Mother. I suppose you know about all the talk there's been here at home. What about? The young lady who might marry the President. Obviously, there'd be talk, gossip. Oh, I see. And... and what do they say? Well, for one thing, that it would be a marriage of political expedience. And in that connection, would you care to make a statement? Would you give me a story from your point of view? I don't understand, Captain. I'll have to confess, Miss. I'm not the captain. I talked him into letting me aboard. I'm a journalist. A journalist? Oh, dear. I knew there was something wrong. Now, take us back to the ship this time. Well, it's too late now, Mother. How could you do this to us, young man? How could you? He's paid to, Mother. Won't you please give me just one quote, Miss Folsom? All right. Quote. When I marry, it will not be for expedience, but for love. Unquote. Francis, oh, Francis, my dearest. Hello, please. It's so good to have you back. Are you coming to the ship? Yes, I am. I'm going to the ship. I'm going to the ship. I'm going to the ship. I'm going to the ship. I'm going to the ship. I'm going to the ship. I'm going to the ship. It's so good to have you back. Are you comfortable here in a hotel? I want to hear all about your trip. You weren't seasick, anything like that? Oh, Mother felt perfectly ghastly. But Cleve, how are you? Did you miss me? Did I miss you? Oh, this has been the longest year of my life. Oh, I've been reading the papers. Everyone I could get my hands on in Europe. Oh, it hasn't been easy for you, Cleve. Let's just say they're calling me the veto as well as the bachelor president. Oh, I hope you don't mind all this gossip that seems to be going around. I mind it terribly for your sake. Frances, I think I should tell you right now, perfectly frankly, I don't want you to feel committed. Committed? What do you mean? When I asked you to marry me, Frances, I didn't stop to think of the difficulties. I don't make very much sense politically, you know. I don't even understand how I was elected. I've been so independent of party policies. Now they've begun sniping at you. I don't want that. Cleve, wait a minute. Before I went away, you wrote and asked me to say no to all the glance. Well, if you've been the veto president, I've been the veto girl. I've said no so often, it's almost become a habit. Oh, I've pondered and dreamed and remembered and hoped all this time and I've saved up my answer for you. Frances, is it? Oh, yes, Cleve. Yes, yes, yes. A fine welcome to Washington. This is rain on our wedding day. Stay under my umbrella, you'll get soaked. Do you think you could kiss me and hold the umbrella too? In front of everyone. Oh, why not? Here, if you won't take the initiative, I will. You're so wonderful. Oh, Frances, I need your fine honesty, your straightforwardness. I've battled alone too long. I think I've grown too afraid of what people will say. Don't ever be afraid, Cleve. We're going to be together. Come on, here's our carriage. We'd better get out of this rain. Maybe we ought to march. We have to be... Cleve, it's our... Our proposal music. Come on, darling, it's almost time for the wedding march. You won't mind being the first lady of the land? Oh, I'll love it. Perhaps if you'd keep this... A rose, Cleve. Just one for you this time. One red rose. All we'll ever need, my dearest, one talisman between us. You are listening to Roses in the Rain, starring Joan Caulfield as Frances Folsom and Ralph Bellamy as Grover Cleveland on the cavalcade of America, sponsored by the Defante Company, maker of Better Things for Better Living through Chemistry. President Grover Cleveland had come to Washington, the most eligible bachelor in the land. And when in 1886, he married a young college girl, Frances Folsom, all America talked of the colorful wedding in the blue room at the White House of the lovely new first lady. It seemed that they were the most enviable couple in the land, but always hovering over their happy life together was the specter of politics of the president's coming campaign for reelection. Mrs. Cleveland, I gotta admit, this whole White House sure perked up since you took over. Why, thank you, Mr. Webb. You've been to parties here before? Yep. The president did the best he could, but he sure no great shakes at party giving. Well, he just possibly had other things on his mind. Like giving the entire country back to the Indians, huh? Well, not quite the entire country, just the part that belongs to them. We cattlemen don't deserve an equal chance, huh? Mr. Webb, I understand you're here in Washington as a lobbyist? Well, I suppose some people had called me that. Are you by any chance practicing on me? Oh, now, don't get me wrong, ma'am. I was only hoping you'd sort of see things our way. Kind of put a bug in the presidency, or maybe tell him he'll be going without steaks for dinner if the Indians get all our grazing land. Yes, I see your point. You do? I try to look at both sides of the question. That's the spirit. Now, if you put it to him just right, say, from the woman's angle... Of course I could say that the Indians are going without decent food or homes or a chance to be educated or a chance to become good citizens because they've been pushed off their land and herded together like prisoners. Mrs. Cleveland, I thought you... As I say, Mr. Webb, I try to look at both sides of the question before agreeing with my husband. Mighty fine cigar, Mr. President. My compliments on your teeth. Thank you, thank you. Haven't noticed you dancing with my wife this evening, Mr. Webb. You were paying a pretty close attention last time you were here. Well, I'll tell you, sir, she's so surrounded by a ton of young gentlemen and if you don't mind my saying so, she's very kind to watch her step. I do mind your saying so. What do you mean? Why, the talk, Mr. President. You know how people love to talk. And what about? My wife enjoys her social life, being surrounded by friends. I wouldn't have it any other way. But when it gets around that she's making political promises that she can't keep, that's a different horse of another color, Mr. President. I don't believe that. You may be sure, Nemez wants to get you out of the White House, you'll believe it. You wouldn't be hoping for that happy day yourself, would you, Mr. Webb? Me? To be perfectly honest, I'm willing to work my head off for your re-election, long as I know where I stand, on my home ground, that is, with no Indians on it. In other words, if I'll oppose the Indian Emancipation Act, you'll play ball with me. No, it's all settled. All settled, sorry. Mr. President, it may turn out that you really will be sorry. What is it, Cleve? You seem so tired. Was it a very trying day? Very. Do you like talking about it? Yes, we agreed that we'd always be honest, that we'd try to understand each other, and there is something I'd like to talk to you about. Of course, dear. You know I want you to enjoy yourself, and you're a wonderful hostess, but... But what, Cleve? I don't think you realize that being a president's wife is rather serious business. There's an election soon. You must be very careful, especially careful, about what you say to friends and possible enemies. But I am careful. I can't help it if people like to gossip. Gossip must be based on something, some fact. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Is that it? What are you accusing me of? I'm not accusing you. I'm only saying that it's a very dangerous thing to promise friends political favors you can't possibly keep. Oh, so that's it. Mr. Webb's been talking to you, hasn't he? Along with all his other cronies who are hoping to spoil my reputation, because I wouldn't try to influence you the way they wanted me to. Fran, now let me get this straight. Did Webb ask a favor of you? Yes, he did. He wanted me to talk to you about the Indian Act, and I wouldn't do it. I had a feeling he wasn't going to let it rest there. What did he say to you? It doesn't matter now, my dearest. I only want your forgiveness. There's nothing to forgive here. Oh, yes, there is. I should have known, just as you did, that it was part of a plot. But I made the mistake of believing the gossip like everyone else. Oh, Francis, this life isn't fair to you. I suppose you were made of iron. A public servant comes to expect these things, especially at election time, but a girl who could have had a normal, quiet life without this terrible responsibility. Please, I don't mind anything else, because I know that my husband is a great and good man. Oh, what's keeping Mr. Whitney? Doesn't he know how anxious we are to hear the election figures? He has to be sure the count is correct, dear. We'll know. It'll all be settled soon enough. Oh, you must when you must. All the reports we've had so far show the people believe in you, Cleve. That doesn't necessarily mean the electoral vote will be in my favor. Oh, it will be. Don't worry. I don't know. I haven't conformed, Fran. Because you've done what you thought was right. People don't always understand that point of view. Well, they certainly understood that all that awful talk about us wasn't true, or they wouldn't have gone ahead and voted for you. Fran. Yes, dear? We're not only waiting for the voice of the nation speaking on the presidency. Each vote that each person casts is a free expression of confidence in an individual leader of a district, a city, a county, a state of the United States. They're all looking to you, Cleve, at the top of the ladder. I've always thought of it as a ladder in reverse. The president really stands at the foot, looking up the rungs to the people he serves. I've always followed my conscience. Of course you have, and the people know it. But I've cut through the rungs of that ladder, and doing so, cut right through party lines. Sometimes that's fatal. Oh, Cleve. If that's Mr. Whitney, hold my hand. Give me courage. You give me courage, my dearest. Come in. Mr. Predator. Yes, Whitney. Do you have the count? What is it? I'm very sorry, sir. 168 electoral votes to Harrison's 233. Thank you, Whitney. Yes. Well, I guess that proves where the people stand. Cleve, even if it seems to mean a defeat for us now, what's to stop us from going on trying? Someday there'll be another vote, and it's going to prove that you were right. Thank you for believing, Frances. Will you mind very much being the wife of a plain attorney living in a prosaic, brownstone house in New York? They have brain in New York, Cleve, roses, and on Sundays in the park they even have band music. And I'll be with you, Cleve. Frances, where are you? Up here in the attic, packing. Need any help? Oh, I certainly do. Do you realize how much junk you've collected in four years at the White House? Don't throw away anything valuable. Well, it's all valuable. Listen to this. You must have gotten this letter just after you moved in. Dear Grover, Hank Stebbins told me the other day that you was elected president. I just couldn't believe it. I often wondered where you was. Ain't heard of you for years. Oh, I'll bet he's heard of you since. And look, boxes of patent medicine, letters, rabbit feet, good luck stone. Oh, Cleve, people do love you or they wouldn't send you these things. They'll send them to President Harrison. Well, I know you have more children named after you than he'll ever have. Look, look at this picture. Isn't he dear? What's it say? Grover Cleveland Gonzoff, age two. And here's Grover Cleveland Ruggiero, 18 months. Cleve, the parents of these children may have come into New York Harbor during the last few years. The first thing they'd see was the Statue of Liberty, the first child born in America they'd name after you. Oh, you're right. We mustn't throw away anything here that's valuable. You might do something about that soap statue of President Garfield. Oh, I think it's rather sweet. Poor Garfield. I hope they never immortalize me in soap. Oh, here's something I'm keeping. Look. I'm looking. It's probably the worst painting I ever saw. It's a picture of roses I'm keeping. I brought you a real one. Oh, darling, thank you. It may be that we'll need another talisman, Frances. We already have one. I suppose we'd better finish up here as quickly as we can. Mr. Harrison and the new regime will want to start fresh tomorrow. Dearest, tell me something. Will you mind if I leave something here? What is it? This rose. Of course not. But why? I want to leave it pressed in this book. Look, I'll hide it under the eaves so it'll still be here when we come back. When we come back? Oh, we shall. The people will bring you back clean. Oh, don't ask me how I know it, but I'm just as sure of it as I am that my rose will wait here for me. Listen, it's raining. It'll always be raining on important days. It'll be raining on the day you come back to the White House, when the people bring you back. And I'll bring you a rose. It'll be raining, and you'll bring me a rose. Four years later, March 4th, 1893, it's raining on this inauguration day as the President of the United States of America, Grover Cleveland, takes the inaugural oath for the second time. Near him, on the White House porch, stands the lovely Mrs. Cleveland. She's smiling. And on her muff is pinned a single red rose. Thank you, Joan Caulfield and Ralph Bellamy. Now here's Bill Hamilton of the DuPont Company. During these next few weeks, along the banks of just about every sizable river and lake in the United States, and along saltwater too, lovers of small boats will be getting their craft ready for another big season. The average boat owner, at least the kind I know, doesn't mind this task one bit. He takes a great deal of pride in the appearance of his boat. It's all he talks about. One of the first things the owner of a small boat does or has done by a boatyard before he sails is to make sure that his craft is properly painted. Now here's where good judgment pays off. He needs a finish that will stand up under the rigors of exposure to sun and water. He also wants a shiny, durable finish that will stay clean and bright the entire season. Finding an ideal paint to fill all these requirements was a pretty big order. However, after years of testing in the laboratory and on the water, chemists of the DuPont Company perfected some better things for better living, finishes for every surface above the waterline. We call them DuPont Dulux Marine finishes. Among them is DuPont Dulux Yacht White. Like the other fine DuPont boat paints, Dulux Yacht White is free-flowing, self-leveling, quick-drying. It can be used on wood or metal. It is elastic, durable, and keeps its whiteness. What's more, it wards off the destructive action of salt water and air, as well as gases, oil, and other impurities in the water. Dulux Marine finishes are so popular that your dealer may not have just the color you want, just when you want it. Please understand his problem if this happens, and please believe that we of the DuPont Company are doing our best to keep him supplied. If you have a boat or hope to own one someday, we have a 36-page booklet called, Keeping Your Boat Ship Shape, filled with valuable hints on boat care, which is yours for the asking. Just write to the radio section, DuPont Company, Wilmington, Delaware, and ask for the booklet, Keeping Your Boat Ship Shape. DuPont Dulux Marine finishes are products of chemical science. They are among DuPont's better things for better living through chemistry. Last week, Cavalcade welcomes back to its microphone the distinguished star of the American theater, Helen Hayes. Miss Hayes will appear in a powerful and dramatic radio play, Woman of Steel, the story of Rebecca Lukens, a young Quaker widow who carried on her husband's dream of building a great iron works in the Chester Valley of Pennsylvania over a century ago. Tonight's original DuPont Cavalcade, Roses in the Rain, was written by Virginia Radcliffe. The music was conducted by Arden Cornwell, conducted by Donald Bryan. Joan Caulfield will soon be seen in the Paramount production, The Sainted Sisters. Our Army and Air Force constitute one of the world's greatest scientific research organizations, and today's enlisted man is a skilled professional who works with advanced techniques and equipment in training that is useful in military as well as civilian life. Give the Army and Air Force recruiting campaign your understanding and support. A total of 1,000 recruits a day is needed. Thank you. This is Ted Pearson inviting you to listen next week to Woman of Steel starring Helen Hayes. Cavalcade of America is presented each week from the stage of the Longacre Theater on Broadway in New York, and is brought to you by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.
