 The Cavalcade of America presented by Dupont. This evening's program in the Cavalcade of America presented by Dupont is the direct result of the large number of written comments received by the sponsors some weeks ago following the broadcast entitled Songs that Inspire the Nation. We hope our listeners will find the same enjoyment in the stories behind American songs of homes. How these songs can be written and sung. Since this nation is, first of all, a land of homes, the home songs occupy an important place in our history. And just as music is interpreted in terms of homes, so can be the developments of science and industry. The best proof of the service rendered by chemical research lies in the many comforts and conveniences that is brought to every home. These contributions are summed up in the Dupont ideal. Better things for a better living through chemistry. Our country was founded and settled by sturdy pioneers who above all sought permanent homes for themselves and their families. This home-loving instinct is reflected by many of our best known songs. But the most famous of all home songs was written by a man who during all his days was a wanderer on a face of the earth. John Howard Payne was born on June 9th, 1791 in New York City. His childhood was spent in a little cottage at East Hampton, Long Island which today is a national shrine. In 1806, he entered Union College as connected. We find Dr. Leflop Knott, president of the college, returning home one evening. His servant opens the door for him. Good evening, doctor. Good evening, Anderson. Young Payne arrives? Yes, sir. I told him you'd return shortly after your faculty meeting. Well, I'll see if he's still up. I want to speak to him. Yes, sir. Young man? Good evening, sir. Yes, I'm Dr. Knott. How do you do, Dr. Knott? I'd rather thought you'd be asleep. Long sailing trip up the Hudson, usually tiresome. I waited up to thank you for inviting me to stop at your house, sir. Yes, you're a menace bleaker of all the major arrangements. He told me you'd need exercise in your studies. He also said that you have a keen mind that hasn't been guided long scholastic lines. No, sir. I want to be an actor. An actor, eh? Do you think you have spionic abilities? Well, I'd be close, oh, sir. But my parents wanted me to go to college before I made any definite decision about my future. I hope you won't let this ambition interfere with your studies. Oh, no, sir. I promise to do my work safely. If I'm not to be an actor, well, perhaps I could be an author. I see you've been at work. Tomorrow's lesson? Well, no, sir. I've just been writing. Writing, eh? What if I may ask? Well, nothing important, sir. Just trying to write some poetry. Poetry? And I didn't know you were a poet. It isn't much good, I'm afraid, sir. You see, I think you're home sick. Oh, not that you haven't all tried to be kind to me, but I'm so fond of my family and my mother. Yes, yes, absolutely. But I've called what I've written home. Now, were they subject? I see it. Well, yes, sir. Yes, sir. Where burns the loved heart like it? Cheering the social breast. Where beats the fond heart lightest, its humble hopes possessed? Where is the smile of sadness, of meek-eyed patients born? Worth more than those of gladness, which merges bright cheeks adorned? Pleasure is marked by fleetingness to those who ever roam, while grief itself has sweetness at home. Dear home, well... I know it isn't very good, sir. Yes, I write that last line of the first stanza, while grief itself has sweetness at home. Dear home. Someday I'll try to write a better poem about home. After the death of his mother some years later, the home John Howard's dream was broken up. And in spite of Dr. Knott's hopes that pain would follow a scholastic career, the young man chose the stage of his profession. Popular at first, both in New York and London, his extravagances were hindrance to his career. After several unsuccessful seasons, he took to writing plays, the most popular of which was Brutus, or The Fall of Hardwick. But his greatest bid to fame was to come. We find him in London in 1823, at the famous Covent Garden, where preparations are being made for his play, Clarie, or The Maid of Milan. The English actor, manager Charles Kembles, is conducting the rehearsal. Let's take the scene again, leading to the entrance of Clarie. A mystery. Yes, Mr. Kembles. You stand by, please. We begin where the servants of a senior custo meet in the garden and discuss Clarie. Go on, please. There's been a new custo. Oh, the Lady Clarie, I'm sick of the very name. I would like to leave the Duke here. Bring me all the way from the land to wait on such a... How can she help himself? Hasn't the Duke given orders that she has never suffered the faster boundaries of the park at daytime? On out the door is locked and guarded by the mighty Duke of St. Pugna. He doesn't like to live here. That's plain to be seen. I believe that Duke has enticed her here on the 4th of September. I give you the 4 girls to my very soul. Hush. Yes, you come now. All right, Miss Fee. Here's where you come on. I'm supposed to sing the song on my entrance, Mr. Kembles. Very well perceived. The music isn't very good. I have a wish. Well, for all the time we've waited for it, that song had better be a good one. I thought Cain had said it was already quiet. Mr. Penn said he was getting Mr. Henry Pritchett to make a proper arrangement of it. Oh, I see, I see. Well, get on with the scene then. After the song, Miss Pina speaks. Yes, then. What a pity song that was and how pity you sang it. Where might you have heard that song, ma'am, if I might be so bold? Where I learned other lessons I ought near to have forgotten. It is the soul of my native village. The hymn of the lonely hearth. It is the first music heard by instantly in its cradle. And our cottages blending with all their earliest recollections never cease to feel its magic. Mr. Campbell. Yes, Mr. Penn and Mr. Bishop. Hold it, please, hold it. Well, Mr. Penn. Morning, Mr. Campbell. How do you do, Mr. Bishop? How do you do, Mr. Penn? We've been waiting for you. I hope you'll have that song at last. Yes, Mr. Campbell, we have it. It'll have to be a very good one. Live up to your flattering description, Mr. Penn. The hymn of the lonely hearth whose magic is felt until death. I think the song has elements of particularity, Mr. Penn. Well, let's hear it. Do you like the music, Mr. Bishop? It's a tune, Mr. Penn, heard of Penn's things, and he was traveling in Sicily. He didn't remember it all, but when he hummed it for me, I recognized it as an old Sicilian folk tune. I've embellished it. Will you try it, Mr. E? You'll find a piano in the wings there, Mr. Bishop. Thank you. After you, gentlemen. Thank you. Remind those steps leading to the stage. Yeah, indeed. I, uh, I'm anxious to hear the music, Mr. Campbell. It is sincere, Mr. Campbell. I wrote it when I was living in a parish garret, thinking about the little cottage I lived in when I was a boy. Can you see all right, Mr. Bishop? It pains me, Mr. Squire. Shall I have a piano moved on stage? No, it's quite all right, Mr. Squire. Thank you. Will you sing it, Mr. Penn? Well, if Mr. P wouldn't mind, I'd rather first write it. Of course, Mr. Penn. I already know the word. All right, Mr. P. Let's hear the hymn of the lonely hearth. Mr. Penn helped the American Indians, and through his political interest, he was appointed consul general to tuners on the north coast of Africa. In 1851, we find him in the consulate on his 60th birthday as his secretary comes into the room. Mr. Penn? Very well, send him in. Yes, sir? That's Mr. Jones. Well, that's the Royal Tunisian band. Come to serenade you on your birthday. Well, well, serenading me with my own song. That was very thoughtful of my friend the Bay. Yes, sir. Will you see the young American now? Of course. This way, please. Thank you. Thank you, sir. I am young man. What can I do for you? Well, I want to go home, sir. I was told that you could fix it for me. Well, if you'll tell me the circumstances. Well, sir, I ran away to sea and fell around over a year. I was looking forward to going home. Well, sir, I'm afraid I would stop right in the pit and miss my boat. I didn't desert, sir. I was too glad to be going home. I told me at the dock that you could fix it for me. I'm sure we can. And Mr. Jones here will see what he can do. I haven't any money. That's something an American consul is supposed to arrange, too. Well, thank you, sir. It's mighty good of you. Hearing them play that song outside makes me want to go home all the more. You never know how good home is till you're away from it, do you, sir? That song brings back memories, eh? It certainly does, sir. A man who wrote those words must have had a wonderful home. Well, as a matter of fact, he never really knew a home. You knew him, sir? Very well. You see, I wrote those words. You, sir? Yes, sir. So I can appreciate your anxiety to see your home again. How often I have been in the heart of Paris, Berlin, London, or some other city, and have heard people sing or hand organ play home sweet home without having a shilling to buy myself the next meal or a plate to lay my head. The world has literally sung my song until every heart is familiar with its melody. Yet I have been a wanderer on my board. Tom Howard Payne died in 1851 and was buried in far distant unit. And it wasn't until March, 1883, 32 years later that the body of the author of Home Sweet Home was returned to his native land. And this was not the only home song that was to bring him fame. In 1852, he married Jenny MacDowell and part of their honeymoon was spent as guests of John Rowan, Jr. at his beautiful plantation near Bardstown, Kentucky. One evening, on the veranda, John Rowan is talking with Mrs. Foster. Where's Stephen this evening? I haven't seen him since dinner. Composing music, undoubtedly. Well, you say that as if you resent Stephen's right music, Jenny. Well, I didn't mean it that way. But on such a beautiful evening like this, with the wonderful moon, it does seem as if unusual for a man to close himself up in the house with a piano. Well, Stephen's music is beautiful, Jenny. He's the very spirit of the Southland. That's strange, too, isn't it? For a man who's born in Pennsylvania? Yes, there's something universal in music. Jenny! John! I finish it. New song, Stephen? Yes. Would you tell her? Oh, yes. All would, I'm sure. Shall we go inside? Yes, sir. Well, what's the inspiration this time, Stephen? Your home, John. My plantation here? Yes, John. In the first place, this house. It's sacredness and signature. You know it's patterned after the lines of Independence Hall into the Delta. Well, I didn't know that, John, but I do know it's very beautiful. You lead the way to the parlor, Jenny? Yes, indeed. At you, Stephen. Thank you, sir. You know, this morning when I awakened, I heard the wood thrush and the marking bird. The slaves were singing in their quarters. I saw the sunlight streaming through the branches of the great trees. And in the distance, the fields of corn. I wanted to put it into music, and I did. Well, play it once, Stephen. I'm anxious to hear it. The song inspired by my old Kentucky home? That's what I called it. I heard you use that term last night. The sun shines bright in my old Kiss-a-mar. The dark is again the man. I didn't mention home in its title. It was destined to become a symbol for the longing of the wanderer away from home and family ties. An incident is recorded while carrying me back to Old Virginia was being played and sung at an open-air concert near Philadelphia. It brings tears to my eyes. I'm from Australia. The sentiment of the song, the music and the words made me think of my home down under. For all brothers when it comes to songs like that, I call it. I've been wiping my eye all through there too. Are your brothers again here yourself, sir? No, sir. I'm from Vermont. That song is to me a symbol of home. I've been away from my long time. I don't think it matters where we come from. Home means home to everybody, I call it. Home-loving and the roving cowboy who makes his home wherever there's a herd of cattle to be brought up to around them. In the early 90s, on a ranch 18 miles west of the little cow town of Ballinger, Texas, the cowboys are gathered together after a long day's work singing their favorite songs. A small boy sits beside his mother on a ranch house steps and listens to the harmony. I'm from Vermont. Yes, baby. Smooth dumb. I wonder why. Well, because most of the cowboys are wanderers, I reckon. They haven't been a real home. There's no one more sentimental than a man without home ties. Yes, I know. But the cowboys do have a home song, mother. They're always singing it. And they call it the home sweet home of the West. I know. That's my favorite of all of them. The home of the West, boy. It's a special request. I'm home with them. I've attracted the attention of one of Americans from one end of the country to the other. Shortly after it had been chosen as the official song of the Texas Rangers, a musical reporter questions Mr. Guyon about the song. How did you come to recreate this song, Mr. Guyon? Well, it was always a favorite of mine. In my blood, I guess. When I was a boy, I used to beg the cowboys to sing it. My mother used to sing me to sleep with it. It meant home to me. I was fond of it, and I thought perhaps that others might be too. No doubt about that, Mr. Guyon. I understand that when Mr. John Charles Thomas appeared recently in the Hollywood Bowl, the entire audience got up and yelled for him to sing it. Mr. Thomas has done much to popularize the song. He and the home on the range seem to belong to each other. When the Texas Rangers adopted it as their official song, they made Mr. Thomas an honorary member. It's a beautiful old song, all right. Who wrote the words? Well, no one seems to know. Cowboys' songs like Grass on the Prairie sprang up overnight. The original author and composer are lost in tradition, but the song itself seems to be popular in all parts of the West. It has a kind of universal appeal. I've heard it sung by the cowboys after a roundup beside the campfire, and I've heard it played by great orchestras. I've heard it sung as a solo. To me, it will always be the home sweet home of the West. And those words are echoed by many other home songs, which are the favorites of a home-loving nation. All honored to their authors and composers, whose poetry and music are an inspiration to the cavalcade of America. Here, we begin to realize that summer heat is with us again. It seems only yesterday that most of us were shivering in our overcoats and wishing for the good old summertime, but now we're trying to figure out ways of keeping cool. A few years ago, a businessman in one of our big cities told me what he did to keep going during the hot weather. As soon as he came to work in the morning, he locked his office door and stripped to his underwear. He dictated his letters over the office telephone, and at frequent intervals during the day, he retired to a shower bath he'd had installed next to his office. In that way, he was able to put in a full day's work. It seems ridiculous that anyone should have to take such measures to be comfortable in a modern world. And it is ridiculous today when air conditioning systems are available. It's safe to say that air conditioning or air cooling will be regarded as a necessity for stores, factories, offices and homes in the not far distant future. Chemistry plays a large part in air cooling because most refrigerating systems use chemicals for reducing and controlling temperature. Chemists have developed a number of such chemicals which are useful as refrigerants, and several of them are made by DuPont. Their use by important manufacturers of air conditioning equipment is helping to provide summertime comfort for millions of people. A famous American humorist once said, everybody talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it. People still talk about the weather but the last half of that remark is no longer true. The air conditioning people and DuPont chemists have done something about it. Besides what it means in cool comfort in making working conditions easier, the manufacture and installation of air conditioning equipment is providing work for thousands of people. Air conditioning is another example of how the ingenuity of the mechanical engineer plus the untiring work of the chemist has created a new industry. This development, like many others, illustrates the important truth expressed in the DuPont phrase, better things for a better living through constraints. Heroes of Texas will be the title of the broadcast week at this time when DuPont again presents The Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System, ABC, New York.