The DuPont Cabalcade of America starring Robert Mitchum. Good evening, this is Robert Mitchum. We have many legends in this country that we like to tell over and over again. Tonight on Cabalcade you'll hear of the man who first set many of them down, Washington Irving. But before we begin here is Bill Hamilton of the DuPont Company. Good evening. Now is the time to clean out the cooling system in your car and make it ready for summer driving. To get the best results, do four things. One, drain out the antifreeze. Two, clean out rust and scum with DuPont cooling system cleansers. It dissolves rust chemically, cleans thoroughly without harming the hose or metal parts. Three, put in fresh water and add DuPont acid and rust inhibitors to keep the radiator rust free all season. Four, add DuPont cooling system sealer to prevent leaks. If you do these four things, there will be little chance of overheating or other radiator trouble. These radiator service products are among DuPont's better things for better living through chemistry. Now, Thunder on the Hudson, an original radio play starring Robert Mitchum as Washington Irving and featuring Julie Hayden as Matilda, the girl he loves on the DuPont cavalcade of America. As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hello, Winkle. Rip fan Winkle, Rip fan Winkle. He looked around but could see nothing. Jimmy, put out your light here. It's time to go to sleep. No, Mother, I'm just getting to the exciting part. Listen. One of the little men had a large beard. The face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose and was surmounted by a white sugar loaf hat set off with a little red cock's tail. And Rip fan Winkle drank from their little kegs and went sound asleep for 20 years. Gee, did you read it too, Mother? Of course, dear. I suppose almost everybody in America's read that story. But it's just a story, Jimmy. The author never meant you to believe it really happened. But I do. And I'll bet he believes it too. I'll bet Washington Irving believed every word. And what of the man that wrote that story? Imagine New York in the early 1800s, bustling, raw and eager, already a center of world commerce but heedless of the beauty of the wilderness surrounding it, unaware of its own traditions and legends. Well, in the midst of this young metropolis is the house of William Irving. And on a chill night in November, the old gentleman stands before his library fire, scowling at a manuscript written by his youngest son. The Catskill Mountains have always been a region full of tables. The Indians considered them the abode of spirit to influence the weather. Bosh. Ruled by an old spore who hung up the new moons in the skies and cut up the old ones into stars. Poppycock. The lad has a mind like a bird. Flitter, flutter. Father? Jilop? Flitter, flutter I am. And you'll do me a favor by coming in here and explaining yourself, Washington Irving. Certainly, Father. What have I done now? It is not what you have done. It is what you don't do. We're not going into that again. Do you look at your boots, covered with mud and slime? You've been out clamping the mountains again, cutting up old moons into stars, I don't doubt. Father I encountered the most amazing, amazing old man tonight. He told me a story, a wonderful story I heard from his father. Now don't try to change the subject. These, these stories of yours, these once upon a time, what good are they? Europe provides us with enough books, but they aren't about America. Nobody writes about this country. That's no reason for you to make a waste of your life. Wait, I've passed the bar examinations. I'm a lawyer in my own right. I am, instead of setting your mind to the winning of papers, you disperse it in trading unlikely yarns with your strange cronies. Yes, I'm afraid the law and I am making outlandish couples. Then you should have chosen some other profession. I want to make writing my profession. You also want to marry young Miss Hoffman, don't you? Matilda says she likes me as I am. Nevertheless, you can't ask her hand in marriage without, without the means to support her. I know. Matilda's father has offered you a position in his law office. Now if you care for your future, apply yourself, Washington, to, to, to, to your well-asses in New Wales Falls and, and forget the once upon a time. That's very lovely, Matilda. Oh, Washington. I didn't hear you come in. Please don't stop. How do you like working in father's law? Oh, all right, I guess. What are you playing? It's by a new composer, Ludwig van Beethoven. I wonder if he makes a living by his composition. I've no idea. Why? You suppose that Beethoven is in love? Maybe there's a girl he wants to marry. Can he be a lawyer by day and a composer by night? What is it, Washington? What's troubling you? I'm puzzled, Matilda. Have you ever stopped to think that the music you play so beautifully was written in Vienna or Rome by men who devote their lives to it? The novels we read are from England or at Walpole, Mrs. Radcliffe. Here in America, we're creating nothing. We have created a nation. There's been little time. Just for once, I'd like to see a landscape painted near the Hudson by a man who can call painting his profession. And I'd like to read a tale of the Capsule Mountains told by a man who loved the tale. Matilda, do you mean that? We've had little time to appreciate the beauty around us up till now, but I believe you understand it. You have a talent for expressing. I'm not expressing it. I'm not writing it. Oh, Washington, you hate the law and love to write. So why do you talk to yourself? Because I love you more than I love you. I'm not writing it. Oh, Washington, you hate the law and love to write. So why do you talk to yourself? Because I love you more than I love you. I'm not writing it. I'm not writing it. I love you more than my life. I want to marry you, but I couldn't let you suffer for my whim by becoming the wife of a poor man. Have you thought what I might suffer being married to an unhappy man? I won't be if you're with me. I'll try to make good in your father's law, Washington. Someday, my darling, when I'm old and the need for a profession has passed, I'll mount my hobby horse and take to writing again. Washington, this is a law. You can't submit anything like this. Can't I? Well, I have. What is it, Wilk? A reference he copies from the common here is. Now listen. A pheasant, therefore, if it be of land, doth deliver to the phe-fee all other persons being out of the ground, as who is not, a clod or turf or a twig or bough there growing. And by the way, it sounds like a most pleasant, therefore, to visit of a summer's afternoon with picnic lunch or fishing rod and a basket of horseshoes to pitch as the sun draws down. That's improving on Blackstone. How do you do it, Washington? Well, it kind of slips in. I can't seem to help myself. Was there something funny that I missed, gentlemen? Come, gentlemen. I can appreciate a joke as well as the next person. Washington? Yes, Mr. Hoffman? Need I remind you that this is a law office, not a coffee house? I realize that. Will you come into my office for a moment? That is, if these other gentlemen can spare your width for that long. Of course. Please be seated. Thank you. Now, how long have you been with me, Washington? Oh, I've been with you for a long time. A long time? Almost a year, sir. Uh-huh. And how much law have you absorbed? Well, sir, the law is a peculiar thing. It has no ability to stick in my mind. It evaporates. You know as much law as that ink pot. You're wrong to ink pot, sir. I agree. Look at this brief you prepared yesterday. I take it there's something wrong with it, too? Washington, law is law. There is no place in it for humor. Quite so, sir. Absolutely no humor. Then why in heaven's name did you crowd this brief with anecdotes? I thought a little brightening was needed. How do you expect to become a partner in this firm if you go on like this? Partner? Mr. Hoffman, did I hear you right? Did you say something about my becoming a partner? I did. Washington, I'm offering you a partnership in my law office, and you'll not be concerned with copying briefs. I'll assign the briefs to young Harrington. What else can I do if you believe enough in me to make such an offer? Now, that's a leading question, son, and I'll be hanged if I can answer it. Come, Father, there must be something you can do. Wait a minute. Is all this because Matilda and I are engaged? My daughter is very fond of you, Washington, but Matilda isn't strong. You know that. She'll need care, all the care and comfort money can give her. And the only way I'll be successful enough to marry your daughter is by your charity. I'd hardly put it quite so boldly as that. Mr. Hoffman, I've worked hard all this year to save enough to establish some kind of security for her. I've failed, obviously, to establish any respect for myself. Please, Washington, you must not look at it that way. How else can I look at it? The clown, the fool, depending on the largesse of his wife's father. That's what I'd be. Well, thank you anyway. I gave up my dream of being a writer. I suppose I can give up my dream of marrying the girl I love. Matilda, dear, you're not going out on a blustery day like this. Why not, Papa? You've just recovered from a severe cold. You mustn't take a chance on contracting another. But I'll be protected in the carriage, and there's something I must do. Is it something about Washington? Yes. I think you'd be better off not thinking any more about him, Matilda. He's stubborn and impractical and he hasn't... But he hasn't been to see me in three days. Yes, I know. Oh, don't you understand? He's too proud to continue on the terms you offered him. He doesn't realize how much ability he really has. That's why I must talk to him. I'm afraid it'll be fruitless, Matilda. Besides, when he left my office, he disappeared. How will you know where to find him? I think I know. And I promise you, Father, that if I do find him, we'll find a solution together. There he is. Oh, stop the carriage, Theodore. Yes, Miss Matilda. Oh, I'm so glad we took this road. Washington? A bigger pardon? Oh, Matilda. Washington, come and get in the carriage, please. I must talk to you. Thank you indeed, but I'm enjoying my walk. Must you be so stubborn? Yes, good day. Theodore, start the carriage and drive along beside him. Yes, Miss Matilda. Washington, I happened to read of a young man in a novel the other day who loved his fiance enough to tell her why he refused to see her. That doesn't make sense. Of course, if you had written the novel, it would have made sense. Oh, Matilda, I beg of you. Go away from me. I can't bring you any happiness. I'm a failure in everything I do. Stop the carriage again, Theodore. Yes, Miss Matilda. Please help me out, Washington. Thank you. Now will you be my escort, sir, to the top of that high rock? All right. Come along. You might sound as if you wanted to. Step carefully. The rocks are slippery. How is it? Shining from your dreams? Let's not speak of those. This was the place you used to come to when you were a little girl. Yes. You must have had dark lungs. I guess I haven't. Are you all right, Matilda? Yes, of course I'm all right. Look. Look out there over the valley. I see. The colors will change for you every minute. Oh, Washington, it's beautiful. Sometimes it's even more beautiful than it looks. How do you mean? When I used to walk along the Hudson with my brothers, sometimes I'd wander up here by myself, listen to the wind in these trees and watch the changing colors of the valley and the mountains. They were obedient to each shift of the life, Matilda, and in each one I'd see a dream, a story or a verse, or a bent little man in high boots carrying a keg, or the shadow of a Hessian trooper who rode through the silences of sleepy hollow without his head. I thought I'd write of them all someday, but I don't see them now here. I do. Do you, Matilda? Do your eyes. Do your art, you see, my sweetheart. Oh, listen to me. You've conformed to the world and its conventions long enough. At first I only half realized what working at the law would do to you. Now I see that if you don't go on and work at writing, you'll be a changing colors and a Hudson will be lost to you. We'd have lost all you since, all the joy in this country we have and love. What's to become of us and the marriage we planned? We'd starve on the nickels and quarters I could earn from writing a story. Are the people in the stories you tell, weren't we in the fate of being poor or starting fresh in a new land? Writing about America is venturing into a new land, Washington. You'll be the first, you see. I want to go with you. You are listening to Thunder on the Hudson. Starring Robert Mitchum as Washington Irving and featuring Julie Hayden as the Matilda on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. In the early part of the 19th century in America, writing as a career was almost unheard of. But young Washington Irving, trying to concentrate on the practice of law, still dreams of a career in literature. The lovely Matilda Hoffman believes that his talent for writing about his native country is far more important than the security he has worked so hard to achieve for her. Now at a ball given by Matilda's father, they hope to announce their wedding plan. You've been dancing with my betrothed the whole evening, Will. Does it mean I'm the loser to you? I'm not that fortunate, Washington. I've been telling Jack Bennett all about a man named Diedrich Knickerbocker, who has written the most comprehensive history of New York. But he hasn't finished it yet. Most of it's only in his mind. He'll finish it soon though, and when he does, the proceeds of his publication will finance our wedding. This Knickerbocker, did you say? I've never heard of him. Is he wealthy, a patron of yours, so to speak? In a way, yes. If the book succeeds, he'll not only be my patron, he'll open a new profession to Americans, writing about America. It's hard that I've never encountered him in the coffee houses or the clubs. Father Knickerbocker's too sly to be seen in public yet. You see, his book may not succeed. It will, Washington. I know it will. Oh, you're saying a joke, taking advantage of my literal judge's mind. All right, Will, I cannot tell a lie. Now I sat dreaming one night about early New York and Peter Stuyvesant and Van Portland and all the rest and how they established New Amsterdam. It occurred to me that an old gentleman, a little queer in his ways, and a student of these ancient events, might better be the author of my tales than I. Oh? I called him Diedrich Knickerbocker. I pretended he had left his history of New York as payment of a rental bill. He was always contracting debts, a tendency I understand all too well. You are amazing, Washington. When I think of all the time you've wasted trying to be a lawyer. Oh, it wasn't wasted. Through it, I found Matilda. Ah, nice fix that. With your kind consent, I'd like to dance with her if you have me. I can't refuse the most accomplished dancer in all of Manhattan. Your arm? Thank you. The Gavot with Matilda. A lighter and with my tears. On a nickel and a quarter. Shining like your future. Shining like our future. Shining like our future. What is it? Matilda, darling, what's wrong? I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Nothing, I... I think I'm losing my breath. Oh, at once. It is something. You've been coughing too much. You've grown too pale. Now come sit down and rest a little. All right. There we are. Comfortable? Oh, yes. Thank you. I'm going to see a doctor. Oh, it's only a cold. Ah, all the same. You're delicate. Oh, Matilda, I want to see you healthy and strong. We have our own special life of pioneering before us in literature. Exploring our new land, remember? Oh, I'll be strong again. I promise. And we'll explore our new land together. I promise you we will. Washington, I'm glad you've come. I'm worried about Matilda. Has the doctor been here? No, she hasn't. What we thought at first was just a cold is... Well, it's worse than we thought. Is she in danger, Mr. Hoffner? I... I don't know. But please go into her. She's been asking if you'd come yet. And Washington, try to cheer her up. I will, sir. Washington? Yes, darling. I thought you'd never get here. I came as fast as I could. I'm feeling a great deal of relief. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're here. You'll write that story? Yes, darling, as I promised. And you'll be the first to read it, in Nickerbocker's history of New York and all the rest. I've been a-thirsty here then, my sweetheart. And I'll carry the delight of the midnight wherever I go. Work in Washington? Oh, Will, come in, sit down. Thank you. Well, I think I'll go back home tomorrow. Oh. No, no, I've been your guest for almost two months. Please, don't leave. Now, since Matilda died, I haven't touched my pen to paper. Everywhere I look, I seem to see her. I try to make my people in the stories and sketches speak, because you and I speak, but they're always her words, the way she'd say them, even think them. But she wanted you to write. Yes. Then do it. There's something you must say in your stories, something Matilda would have wanted you to say. I know, but it seems unimportant now. It's lost its purpose, its direction, its force. It seems that way now, but sooner or later, the direction and purpose will return. Thank you, Will. You've helped. I wish I could, really. Well, good night. Good night. See you in the morning. Now, let's see. I wonder how this would sound. Nicker Barker was preparing a second edition of his history, wherein he endeavored to correct and improve many passages with which he was dissatisfied, but the glow of composition had departed. Oh, what am I doing with the once upon a time? If I had an ounce of sense, I'd go back to the feffers and feffments, deeds and covenants and writs and petitions for a lonely man with no heart for any work. A story or a verse or a little bent man in high boots? I've no heart for it anymore, Matilda. The Hudson Valley is obedient to each shift of the light, and in each shadow is a dream. But I don't see them now. One of the little men with the long gray beard up in the Catskills has made a strike. All nine pins have gone down. That's right, Matilda. They're really Henry Hudson and his half-moon crew bowling in the mountains. The mountains in the valley are even more beautiful than they look. Yes. They hold the treasure of the past to be told and retold. On a nickel and a quarter shining like your future, shining like our future. Write our legends, Washington. Write them for those who are to come after us. Write, Washington. Write. I will. I will, Matilda. I will write it. In my Rip Van Winkle, it should read like this, perhaps. Every change of season, every change of weather, every hour of the day produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky. But sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which in the last rays of the setting sun will glow and light up like a crown of glory. I am writing it, Matilda. Now I know how to write of our landscapes, our valley, and the legends in our country. I'm sure our radio audience joins the audience in the theater tonight, applauding the performance of Robert Mitchum, Julie Hayden, and the rest of tonight's cast on the Cavalcade of America. And now, here's Bill Hamilton of the DuPont Company. Hundreds of thousands of American families in every part of the country are being helped with these and similar problems. A mother writes, my child is underweight. What should she eat to gain weight? Another woman asks, we want to remodel our kitchen, but we don't know how to arrange it. And a farmer says, I hear DDT will kill flies in my cow barn. Where can I get some and how do I use it? All of these people have a common interest. They want to improve their way of life. They hear about new developments of science over the radio, through the press, maybe from a neighbor. But cold scientific facts don't mean too much unless somebody translates them into practical use. This vitally important somebody is the home demonstration agent. She is a college graduate with training in home economics. There are 3,000 of these messengers of science in the United States, joint employees of the state land grant colleges, the Department of Agriculture, and the three and a half million families they serve. Thanks to these women, information that contributes to better living reaches homes more promptly without years of delay. What do home demonstration agents teach? This year, things like food conservation, home planning, the buying and care of fabrics, and health education. This is National Home Demonstration Week. Women enrolled in home demonstration clubs and girls in 4-H clubs, all a part of this on-the-job education program, will hold open house to highlight the progress made in the past 30 years in applying science to homemaking. If you want to know more about how this home demonstration program can help you, get in touch with your home demonstration agent. Her office is generally at the county seat because she works throughout your county. We at the DuPont Company feel an especially warm kinship with these busy, capable home demonstration agents because DuPont is interested in fostering scientific research, research that in our case points the way to better things for better living through chemistry. Next week, Cavalcade will present the distinguished Hollywood star Melvin Douglas in Village Doctor, the inspiring story of Colorado's Dr. Archer Chester Sudan, who recently received the American Medical Association's first annual award for outstanding community service by a general practitioner. We invite you to listen to this heartwarming story on next week's Cavalcade, starring Melvin Douglas. Tonight's original DuPont Cavalcade, Thunder on the Hudson, was written by Russell Hughes and Virginia Radcliffe. Music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Bryan. Robert Mitchum will soon be seen in RKO's production, Rachel and the Stranger. This is Ted Pearson inviting you to listen next week to Village Doctor, starring Melvin Douglas. 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. Applause This is NBC, the national broadcasting company. Music .
