The DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America, starring Gene Tierney. Good evening, this is Gene Tierney. Tonight on Cavalcade, I present a woman who was suddenly imprisoned behind a totally gray wall of silence. This is the true story of that woman and how she came from behind that wall. Gene Tierney as Mary Hayes. You never know when it's going to happen. You leave your life normally. You laugh, you sing, you go to a dance. That's how it began with me. Yes, there was a winter dance at the Cotley Plaza in Boston. I was a sophomore at Simmons College. I was young and I was passing. And it was a big dance. A twin of keys. Marie, anyone ever tell you? What? Before your dance? Oh. Mary Hayes, you've got the cutest little baby face. Oh no, Dr. DeWitt. There's another one like Mary Hayes. Oh Marie, Dr. DeWitt. You're so sweet. Oh, I'm sorry. Anyway, let's not talk at all. Let's just dance. I love to dance. Don't you? Marie, you had to do the Charleston at this hour. Don't you ever get tired? Oh, I love dancing. Don't know why. Well, I love sleeping and I do know why. Now shut up and go to sleep. You know something, folks? The only thing wrong with tonight. I'm not interested. Was it Henry, wasn't he? Oh no, not Henry Heiner at midnight. Marie Hayes in 10 seconds. All right. All right. Oh, that's better. Good night, pal. Have you ever gone to sleep as I did that winter night in 1926? My flesh tingled. I was warm. I felt asleep dreaming of the voices in the music of a sounding world. Marie, wake up. Marie, come on, Kevin. Hey, Marie. Marie, what's wrong? Flo, speak up. Huh? Speak up, Flo. Talk louder. I'm practically yelling. Flo, I can't hear you. It's too loud. It's too early for jokes. Louder, Flo. I don't hear you. Why didn't the alarm go off? But it did go off, Marie. I can't hear you, Flo. Talk to me, please. I want to hear your voice. I can't hear. Your roommate has nothing more serious than a case of influenza. But, Doctor, she can't... Yes, I know she can't hear. Happens. The infection spreads. She'll get better. Now, just see that she takes these pills. You'll get plenty of fluids into her. Nothing to worry about, not a thing. I saw his lips move, but I didn't hear a single word he said. When your ears have been busy bringing you the sounding world for all your life, the absence of sound, the abrupt unexpected end of sound is like the death of consciousness. That's how it was for me in 1926. I got well, but my hearing had only partially returned. In order to hear, I had to strain all the time. It was like having to stand on my toes while everyone else was relaxed and comfortable. Just keep tight, Marie, darling. I'll get you an eggnog. Eggnog? Yes, Marie. You need building up, darling. Do I, Mother? I'm really much better, you know. That's fine. Are you glad to be home again? What? Is it Cleveland a welcome sight again? He didn't say so. Mother, you did ask me if Henry Heiner was planning to call tonight. That's what you asked, Mother, wasn't it? Yes, of course, Marie. I'll have your eggnog in a moment. Darling, there's a new doctor in town. I hear you, Mother. There's really no need to raise your voice. Oh, excuse it, darling. I was saying that there's a new doctor in town who seems to have a national reputation as an oncologist. That means ear specialists, you know. Why don't you and I pay him a visit tomorrow morning? Now, Marie, just one more time while I strike the tuning fork like this. I place it here like this. Mm-hmm. Yes, Marie? Exactly the same as before. Not much different? None, not. No. I think that will be all for now. She's really considerably better than she seems. Wouldn't you say so, Doctor? Oh, yes, Mrs. Hayes. Only a slight impairment which will improve with time. Nature, you know. Turn up. Elevator, wait. Turn up this car, please. Just a moment, please. I'm going down. Up, going up. Watch the door, please. Don't you dare close that door in my face. I'm going down. This car goes up. What's the matter, lady? Wake up. Who's there? It's I, darling. Who's there? It's Mother. Darling, I can't show. The neighbors. Who is there? Darling, it's drizzling. I'm falling in new hat. Let me in. You can't come in. Go away. Marie. Marie. It's Mother. Oh. Mother, I'm sorry. I didn't expect you in the home. Oh, darling, darling. You were never afraid to be alone before. You live among friends, Marie. You don't have to bolt the door in broad daylight. You don't have to... How are you, darling? Fine, Mother. Just fine. I had become afraid. Afraid of not hearing. And not being able to hear, I listened increasingly to the fantasies of my imagination. I imagined conspiracies against me everywhere. I bid a heart. Two diamonds. What were they whispering about? Waiting for you, Marie. What was that smile for? What were they saying about me? Two diamonds, Marie. You certainly can be mistaken about a person you've known all your life. What do you mean? You grow up thinking a person is pretty quick on the trigger. Oh, for heaven's sake. Have a little... Marie? You can say anything you want. Everybody knows she's deaf as a post. Every moment of the day you die a little. But there are moments when you die faster. I pretended that I hadn't heard. That was foolish. But even more foolish, I pretended that I heard when I heard nothing. I wanted to be normal. And a normal woman has two ears. Small ears, long ears, thin ears, thick ears, pretty ears, silly ears, but functioning ears. Ears to hear the sounds of the world. When the wall of silence begins to close in, one by one all the shared pleasures of life are taken from the heart of hearing. First to go is music. The conversation of friends. The voices of birds. The drip of water. All that remains is the emptiness of vanity which forbids truth. As sound increasingly left me, I went from doctor to doctor. Listen now. Now we shall try the whistle from this side. Pay attention please. Did you hear that, Miss? Oh yes, Doctor. Much better. Could you blow it a little louder? That was loud enough, Miss Hayes. What am I saying? Much better, Doctor. Miss Hayes, you didn't hear a thing. I am writing down a name and address. Take it. Go to Miss Elliot. She teaches lip reading. A woman is created whole. She has hands for touching and lips for speaking and a palate for taste. A nose is intended for smell and eyes for sight. Ears for hearing. We are created whole. For the world is a whole world. And now, now I was a partial human being. Shut off from the sound of the human voice, the sound of laughter, the sound of my own crying. Shut off. Have you ever been shut off? Then you know the fright of silence. Who's there? Is there someone at the door? Speak up or I'll call the police. Operator, operator, there's someone at the door who killed me. Operator. Oh, Mother, there's someone at the door and I can't hear. Mother, I'm deaf and I can't hear. I'm deaf. Oh, Mother, I can't hear anything. A young American woman, Marie Hayes, has lost her hearing and finds herself in a lost world alone behind a wall of silence. Panic is also a wall. When the panic left, I felt better. And I heard a little better. But it was a black time for me. And it was at that time that Henry Hymer came and asked me to marry him. All right, Marie, so you don't hear. Henry, I may get with. Yes. You can't marry someone totally deaf. I don't want to marry your ears, darling. I want to marry you. Hearing or not, hearing makes no difference. It's not true. You have to hear. You have to hear what a husband says. You have to hear children when they fall down, when they're sick, when they cry. I was gambling with the safety of my children, my children's children. I didn't know. No one told me these things. Yes, I became Mary Hay's It was easy to be happy with Henry. He understood. He pitched his voice to my needs. He spoke clearly and directly to me. He never talked to me from the next room or from behind me. You young folks have done this room up very well. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Oh, what a sweet crib. Hello. Ah, ah. Oh, that's fine again. Hello. Hello. Ah, ah. What if she isn't, Jermi? She'll learn. I shouldn't have said what I did. You know, well, I just haven't ever thought about deaf children before. I know. Deafness can't be seen. It's invisible. Here, Becky. This is for you. Take it. Good girl. That's it. Take it. Hold it in your hand. Open it. Feel the sound. The deaf are set apart. They withdraw into their own silence. But now they must listen to me because I've got something to tell them. Can you hear me? There are between seven and 15 million Americans who must be made to hear. There are children like little Betsy who are born deaf. They must be taught to speak. There are the old people. They sit in a room and suddenly it seems to them that the last door has closed. There are men and women like me, anxious, afraid, lonely. There are prisoners behind the wall of silence. Seven to 15 million Americans. Listen. I have lately come from where you are and now I open the Bible to your place. And in that day shall the deaf hear. Applause And now our star, Jean Tierney. Applause Thank you. There's one thing I would like to do now, not as Marie, but as Jean Tierney, and that is to bring you the real Marie, whose story we tell tonight. And here she is, Marie Amy Sinus. Applause Thank you, Ms. Tierney. If my experience has helped other people, I am repaid. Today there are many organizations working among the deafened, particularly the American Hearing Society. Programs like tonight's Cavalcade and understanding on the part of all of us will help shatter the great wall of silence that imprisoned so many of our fellow citizens. Good night. Applause Next week, Cavalcade will present one of the screen's most irrepressible personalities, Mickey Rooney. Our play, South of Cape Horn, is the story of a boy who failed to seize to discover a lost continent. Be sure to join us. Tonight's Cavalcade play, The Wall of Silence, was written by Morton Wishingrad and was adapted from the book Hearing is Believing by Marie Hayes Hiner, published by the World Publishing Company. All royalties being turned over to organizations working for the deaf. The program was directed by Arthur Pryor, music composed by Arjun Cornwell and conducted by Donald Voorhees. Your announcers, Ted Pearson and Bill Hamilton. Our star, Gene Tierney, appeared to the courtesy of 20th Century Fox and can soon be seen in Whirlpool. May we remind you when you buy Christmas seals this year, buy a lot. Thank you. Cavalcade of America comes to you from the stage of the Belastro Theater in New York and is presented by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Stay tuned for the Baby Snook Show, followed by Bob Hope on NBC.
