The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America, starring John Bennett. Now we present Miss Joan Bennett as Abigail Scott Dunaway. The seat of our DuPont Cavalcade play this evening is the Pacific Northwest in the days when Oregon was still a pioneer state, where men were men and women were hardly ever suffer jets. To Portland on a day in 1870 came a handsome woman named Abigail Scott Dunaway and made her way to the office of Joseph Engel, attorney at law. What can I do for you, Mrs. Dunaway? Well, first I think I'd better tell you something about myself, Mr. Engel. Well, I wish all my clients would volunteer to do that. It saves a lot of time. Well, my home is in Albany, the Albany here in Oregon. Oh, your husband in the lumber business up there? He was the superintendent of the mill. Then he had a serious accident, became a chronic invalid. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. It's been very difficult for him. He'd always been an active man. And yes, I know how it is. But luckily, I've been self-supporting before my marriage and I was able to go back to teaching. I suppose I should have known then that there'd be trouble. What kind of trouble? Well, it seemed that the legislature had passed a bill to the effect that women teachers should be paid about half a salary paid to men for the same work. Did you know that, Mr. Engel? I hadn't been aware of it, no. I can also tell you it isn't enough to support a family. How did you manage? Well, I took in sewing at first and then opened a small millinery shop. Well, I admire your enterprise. Oh, it wasn't easy, Mr. Engel. As you know, a married woman can't own property or make contracts in her own name and, well, my husband's financial status was... Yes, of course. I see what you mean. Well, one way and another, I did manage to overcome the legal difficulties and the income from the shop was sufficient for our need. Then suddenly, without any warning, my creditors called in their notes. But did they give any reason? They claim that under the law, a woman cannot sue for services and therefore, I'm a poor risk. Surely, they must be mistaken. Well, Mrs. Dunaway, I sympathize with your plight, but I must tell you that you have no cause for action whatsoever. That's the law. What kind of a law is it that deprives a human being of the fruits of his own labor? An unjust law, I agree. The only remedy is to change the law. Then why doesn't somebody change it? Because, Mrs. Dunaway, laws are made by men. If women voted, laws would treat women better. The trouble is, women don't seem to want to vote. Who says women don't want to vote? Oh, hello, my dear. Mrs. Dunaway, my wife. How do you do? I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have some shopping to do and you know how it is. That's quite all right, Mrs. Engel. Yes, well, how much is it this time, Dorothy? $15. I thought it was the most stylish hat in town until I saw the one you're wearing, Mrs. Dunaway. Thank you. Mrs. Dunaway is in the millinery business, my dear. Oh, your husband tells me I can no longer remain in business. Well, why in heaven's name? It's quite complicated. But the real reason seems to be that I am a woman. Well, when we women get to vote, Mrs. Dunaway, things will be different. Your husband says women don't want to vote. Oh, Pooey's always saying that. You'd think he never heard of the women's suffrage movement. Oh, those old battle axes back east. If Horace Greeley hadn't been hand-packed into giving them newspaper space, nobody would ever have heard of them. Wait a minute. Hmm? Newspaper space. What's that? How much does it cost to start a newspaper, Mr. Engel? Oh, you can buy a secondhand printing press for about $50. But it's not what it costs to start a paper. It's what it costs to keep it going. I thought the advertisers took care of that. Well, no merchant would dare advertise in a suffrage paper if that's what you had in mind. Well, why not? Women do most of the household buying, don't they? Just the same, they won't pay good money for suffrage propaganda. By the way, there isn't even a suffrage movement in the state. Yes, there is, Mr. Engel. Where? Right here in this room. I just started it. Good. You can count me in too, Mrs. Dunaway. I'll be your charter member. 951, 952, 953, 95- Abigail, Abigail, stop the press, stop the press. What's the matter? Is something wrong? Look at these. Orders for advertising, Miller's Emporium, the Ulysses Cafe, Horton's Grocery Store, and who do you think bought a whole page? The lucky throw saloon. Dorothy, you didn't actually go into that saloon, did you? Well, why not? Oh, what a child you are. Don't you know that ladies never go into such places? Well, there was a sign right over the door. It distinctly said ladies entrance. That's merely a figure of speech, Dorothy. Oh, but there were three charming ladies there, actresses, and they're coming to our next meeting. Dorothy, how could you even think of such a thing? But they were ever so nice, Abigail, and very enthusiastic about women's rights. One of them told me she used to be on the stage in New York. Oh, there were such nice, friendly ladies. Oh, never mind, never mind. Help me with the press, will you? We'll have to set up an extra page to accommodate all this advertising. Isn't it thrilling, Abigail? Our third issue, and we've already got a circulation of more than a thousand. Oh, we really should have rented a bigger hall for our meeting tomorrow night. We'll see, Dorothy. I hope and pray that you're right. I don't understand it. The hand bills we distributed said eight o'clock sharp, and so did the notice in the paper. Eight fifteen, and not a soul has shown up. Oh, well, eight o'clock must be too early. Most of the women have to wash the supper dishes and put the children to bed. They'll be along a little later. I don't think so. But Adelaide McKay promised me definitely, and so did Lois Kinsey. Lois was going to bring her mother and sister who were visiting in town. Did they say whether they had asked the permission of their lords and masters? Their husbands? Well, why should they object? I don't know why, but some of them do. Oh, here comes some people. Now, I knew they'd start arriving. Is this where the meeting for suffering womanhood is supposed to be held? Yes, the meeting will start in a few moments. Won't you come in, ladies? You, too, gentlemen. Take these seats up front. Thank you. Are men welcome here? We welcome anyone who is interested in the question of equal rights for women. Well, Abigail, shall we call the meeting to order? I suppose we may as well. Ladies and gentlemen, this meeting... Hold on a minute, sister. Yes? Don't take up school so early. You've got too many empty seats in this hall. Hey, you want I should fill them up for you? I'm afraid I don't quite understand. Well, you see, it's like this, ma'am. Like getting a bunch of stevedaws to a meeting. You got to persuade them a little. By violence, ma'am? Oh, no, ma'am. They don't mean too well to put up a fight. How about it? All right, good. Go ahead. Fill up those seats. Ladies and gentlemen, this meeting has been called to announce the formation of a new crusade. The Equal Rights Society of the Northwest. Abraham Lincoln said that this nation could not continue to exist, half slave and half free. I say that we are still half slave and half free. We do not ask equal rights for our own sake, but for the good of the whole country. There must be one law for all Americans. We the people. Gentlemen, there can be no argument about it. Women are people. More coffee, dear? Shocking, scandalous. But darling, I made it in the usual way. Oh, not your coffee. This poisonous newspaper, the New Northwest. I never heard of it. Is it published here in Portland? Here in Portland, to the everlasting shame of another wise fair community. Oh, then you must write an editorial about it in your paper, dear. It's your duty. I've already written several editorials about it. Haven't you read them? You know I don't understand politics, dear. Well, thank heaven for that. But you'd think a man's own wife would take a little more interest in the newspaper he publishes. What's wrong with the other paper, dear? To begin with, it's published by a female. Hmm, how bold of her. Bison is the word. Just listen to this. Mr. Pomeroy, the publisher of the Daily Courier, expresses his doubts that women are people. Since Mr. Pomeroy's mother was presumably a woman, he thereby renounces his membership in the human race. Let us hope he will soon return to the fold and stop making a monkey out of himself. Oh, what's funny about that? Oh, I'm sorry, dear, but it just struck me that way. Now, dear, you haven't been hit by this votes for women bug, have you? Oh, dear, no. Well, you see that you don't. And I forbid you ever to read this disgraceful rag. But Nat, shouldn't I read it? Otherwise, how am I to understand your editorial? Great Scott. What is it, Nat? Why, you've just made me realize what I've been doing. By writing editorials against her, I've been advertising her wretched paper. Then you'd better stop writing them, Nat. I'll do more than that. I'll stop her. Oh, how? Don't worry, you wouldn't understand. You're a woman. I want to see Mrs. Dunaway. I'm Mrs. Dunaway. Oh, well, I thought you'd be different somehow. I'm Nat Pomeroy, publisher of the Daily Courier. Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Pomeroy. I want to congratulate you, ma'am. You have made a monkey out of me. Well, I hope you didn't take personal affront at that editorial, Mr. Pomeroy. It's not your editorial to affront me. You're cutting into my circulation. Oh, I admit that. Surely this city is big enough to support two newspapers. Well, it isn't. I've come here to make you an offer. How about combining your paper with mine? That's a very flattering offer, Mr. Pomeroy. You'll continue my editorial policy, of course. Well, there are certain features I'd like to keep, that woman's page, for instance, and the recipes and so on. But my whole purpose in starting the paper is to advance the cause of women's suffrage. Women's suffrage isn't news, it's propaganda. It's news to the women of this city, Mr. Pomeroy. Look at this stack of letters, just one day's correspondence from women who never dreamed of the possibility of equal rights. Soulmates, cranks, crackpots, every one of them, I'll wager. Well, let me read you one that just came this morning. Dear Mrs. Dunaway, I am married to one of the most successful men in this community. I have three beautiful children in a lovely home. I should be happy, but there has always been something missing in my life, and your paper has made me realize what it is. I am not free, so I have decided, against my husband's wishes, to join you in the fight for equal rights. That letter, Mr. Pomeroy, is from your wife. What? I don't believe it. See for yourself. Well, she certainly had me fooled. But I still say you're wrong, and you'll never win. Oh, why are you so sure of that? Now look, you're an educated woman, Mrs. Dunaway. You ever estimate both the mentality and the enterprise of the average woman? No, I don't, Mr. Pomeroy. At least half of the women are dolls, the rest are grudges, and we're all fools. Which category do you put yourself into, Mrs. Dunaway? I am no doll, Mr. Pomeroy, as you will discover if you continue to oppose me. Then you'll refuse my offer. I will not be bought off. All right. I'll have to find other means. Is that a threat, Mr. Pomeroy? No, Mrs. Dunaway, it's a promise. As our play continues, Abigail Scott Dunaway, played by Joan Bennett, is preparing to meet the challenge of a rival publisher who has threatened a fight to the finish against her newspaper, The New Northwest, and its editorial policy, Equal Rights for Women. As our scene opens, Abigail is talking to a distinguished visitor who has come to Portland at her invitation, Susan B. Anthony, the famous leader of women suffrage. And here, Miss Anthony, is the latest editorial by Mr. Pomeroy. Well, let me see it. Half the women are dolls, the rest are grudges, and we are all fools. So says that self-styled champion of female rights, Abigail Dunaway. Abigail, who is no doll, is now circulating a petition to try and scare our legislature into giving women the vote. But the women don't seem to be signing up. What? Apparently, they are not such fools as she thinks they are. Oh, that hateful, hateful man. Well, it's not as bad as I expected. And at least he's half right. About the petition, you mean? We didn't get a tenth of the signatures we need. And in some towns, not a single woman signed up. Oh, but surely you're not going to let him get away with misquoting you like that. About women being dolls, grudges, and fools? I said it, and it's the truth. Mrs. Dunaway. Yes, I'm afraid we're fools to think they want it to be anything else. We've made the women aware of the suffrage movement, but they aren't doing anything about it. Oh, excuse me, I didn't know it was you. It's all right. Come in, Dorothy. I want you to meet Miss Susan B. Anthony, president of the National Society for Women Suffrage. Miss Anthony. Miss Anthony, may I present my friend Mrs. Engels. How do you do? Oh. We were discussing our big problem up here in the Northwest, Dorothy. Oh, yes. Tell me, Mrs. Dunaway, what are you doing besides publishing your journal? Well, we have the Equal Rights Society here in Portland and several branches elsewhere in the state. Oh, you talk as if it were a sewing circle. Have you organized any hunger strikes? Hunger strikes? In the jails, I mean. Surely some of your ladies have been arrested. I know. Why should they? Every great cause must have martyrs, Mrs. Dunaway, and suffrage is a great cause. But surely the appeal to reason is... You can't get the following you need by appeals to reason. You must stir the women up to a pitch of rebellion. But we need women who are statesmen, not rebels. We must be resolute, but in a manner to in this confidence and command respect. I see. May I ask how many recruits you've gained by this method? Very few. Am I correct? But we're only beginning. And you've done quite well. I must say I admire your newspaper. You have an amazing grasp of the principles of the suffrage movement. I note, however, that you seem to have overlooked the question of temperance. May I ask why? Because one of the reasons men are afraid to give us the vote is the fear that we'll vote in a prohibition law. Oh, there are a great many men in the temperance movement, too. You'd be very foolish not to enlist their support. In fact, it's my opinion that you can't win without it. I do respect your opinion, of course, Miss Anne. Good. And now you'll be happy to learn that I've decided to grant you a charter in our national organization. And don't count too heavily upon the printed word. Go out and stir up the multitudes. Go to towns and villages, to the grassroots of this great territory. And don't relent until every man, woman, and child has heard our message. Abigail Dunaway is off to the hinterlands to preach the gospel according to Susan B. Anthony. Let us hope the country folks will give her the reception she deserves. Junction city, June 2nd. Abigail spoke here last night on the subject of women's suffrage. The church and town hall closed their doors to her, so she was obliged to speak in a barn. The female sex was represented by a few cows who seemed to enjoy the whole thing. So did Bill July 13th. Abigail Dunaway has done it again. Unable to hire a hall, she delivered her speech in the back room of Moriarty Saloon. Abigail's next stop is Jacksonville, a real Oregon mining community where men are still men. She had better watch out. Jacksonville, Jacksonville. Oh, will you help me with my bag, please? You ain't getting off the train here by yourself, are you ma'am? Of course I am. My, oh my. You know this town, ma'am? No, this is my first visit. Why? The folks here ain't hardly human, that's why. Nonsense. Looks like a perfectly normal, quiet little mining town to me. That's because the men folks are still working up in the mines, but after dark it's different. Different? How? Well, they drink. They shoot each other up. Lenten and burnings and I don't know what-o. I'm sure that doesn't happen every day. Maybe not, but how do you know today ain't the day? Hey, look what's coming down the street. Well, ain't she the pretty one? Hey, lady, can I carry your bag? Can you gentlemen direct me to the home of the Reverend Huckins? Sure. Want me to take you there? Just down the street, lady, to the first White House with the fence. Thank you. Are you the Reverend Huckins? Why, yes, yes. You're Mrs. Dunaway, aren't you? You received my telegram, then. Yes, yes. Come in. Come in quickly. Excuse me, I'll just draw these blinds. You seem upset about something, Reverend Huckins. Oh, Mrs. Dunaway, I tried to reach you in Soderville after I received your wire. I wanted to warn you against coming here, but it was too late. I don't understand. This is a strange community in many ways, Mrs. Dunaway. There are some God-fearing men and women here, and as a minister of the gospel, I've tried not to despair of the others, but, oh, it's difficult, difficult. One must expect a certain amount of rough behavior in a rural pioneer community, Reverend Huckins. I've spoken in many such towns, and I assure you I was received everywhere with the greatest respect. Jacksonville is different, Mrs. Dunaway. You simply have to take my word for it. I'm not afraid, Reverend Huckins, but if my presence here embarrasses you. Oh, no, no, no. Now, there's only one hotel, and it's, well, it's out of the question. You'll be safer here than anywhere else, but I strongly urge you to take the next train back to Soderville. Thank you for your concern, Reverend Huckins, but I came here to speak for the suffrage movement, and I will not leave until I have done so. Ladies and gentlemen, please, quiet, quiet, please. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to introduce a brave and noble woman who has come here to address the people of this community on a subject that whether you agree with her or not should be of great interest to us all. Now, I've heard rumors that a group of citizens are planning a demonstration of some sort here this evening. I see our sheriff is here, and I trust he will do his duty. Don't look to me to protect her, Reverend. Yeah, why don't you put back your foot? Turn around on the train. Tell her to go home. Gentlemen, please, I've come a long way and suffered many hardships just for this opportunity to speak a few words to you. I'm not going to try to force my opinions on you. You're doing right, you're not. Okay, boys, let her have it. Oh, no, stop, stop, please, please, no, no, no. This is done away. Come with me quickly. I have a carriage waiting in the alley. I will not run away. I will not. Listen to me. You call yourselves men. Look at your handiwork, a woman gripping with filth and rotten eggs. You oppose women's rights in the name of chivalry, and this is what your chivalry amounts to, to humiliate, to hurt, to keep at all costs your tawdry little master. Women of Jacksonville, take a good look at me. I am the symbol of the degradation of womanhood under the law. What they have done to me here tonight, they do to you a thousandfold each day in the form of injustice and tyranny. Women of Jacksonville, fight to end this blight on our democracy. Well done, next up, Portland. Why, Mrs. Dunaway, I didn't know you were on this train. Mr. Engel, what a pleasant surprise. I suppose you've heard of my reception by the gentlemen of Jacksonville. Oh, yes indeed. The whole state is up in arms about it. Even old Pomeroy ran an editorial and basting them and praising your courage. Not my archenemy, Mr. Pomeroy, surely. Yes, just so. That speech was magnificent. And my wife wrote me that so many women showed up to join the club, they had to print up a new batch of forms. Oh, I can't wait to hear it tell about it. Well, she's meeting me at the station. Oh, we're coming in now. There's such a crowd on the platformer, I can't see it. Brass, sin, all that bunting, and what they're celebrating. There's a banner of some sort up there. Can you see it, Mr. Engel? Well, I'll be done. What is it? It says, welcome home, Abigail. What? Yes, looks like you're the heroine of the hour. Thank you, thank you so much. I once said that all women are fools, but someone else once said, a fool is wise in his folly. I know now that we will win our battle to make this a true democracy, democracy for all our citizens, men and women, not only in the Northwest, but throughout the nation. Our thanks to Joan Bennett and the Cabell-Cade players for tonight's story. Ladies and gentlemen, the month of April has been set aside as Cancer Control Month. Guard your family against cancer by joining the 1951 Cancer Crusade. Mail your contribution to Cancer Care of your local post office. Next week, the star of the DuPont Cabell-Cade will be Robert Montgomery. Our play, the exciting and heroic story of an inspiring American, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker. Be sure to listen. Tonight's DuPont Cabell-Cade was written by Robert Tallman. Music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Borey. The program was directed by John Zoller. This is Si Harris speaking. Don't forget next week, Robert Montgomery in the raft. The DuPont Cabell-Cade of America comes to you from the Belasco Theater in New York and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Laughter reigns and Baby Snooks is queen. Hear her on NBC.
