 The Cavalcade of America. At the start of this evening's episodes in the DuPont presentation of the Cavalcade of America, may I quote from the latest issue of the official publication of the Women's National Radio Committee. This is the organization affiliated with so many women's activities, including the General Federation of Women's Club, the American Association of University Women, the National Federation of Music Club, the Council of Women for Home Mission, the Catholic Daughters of America, the National Council of Jewish Women, and many other outstanding groups. The Women's National Radio Committee feels that it's time to cheer when such a program as this blazes new trails. Their review continues, quote, The story of America's progress is drama as absorbing as fiction, and on this half hour it's particularly entertaining. Don't let the word educational fool you. For this program will hold your interest from start to finish. We recommend it especially as family entertainment, and suggest that the children be allowed to sit up and hear it. The DuPont modest commercials deserve an extra round of applause. End of quotation. The sponsor of this program is grateful for these words from such a distinguished group, and invite you to send your own comments on this series to DuPont, Wilmington, Delaware, or to your own radio station. Your expressed opinion is the sponsor's only guide as to whether this series represents the type of radio entertainment that you too are glad to welcome into your own home. Our cavalcade orchestra raises the curtain this evening with a triumphal march of grief. Each one of us has at some time or another set in his heart. I wish that I might do something for the world, something that will make it just a little better place to live in for the generation to come. But tonight we are going to show you how the loving ambition and the abiding courage in the life of a poor woman changed an evil situation into a highway of opportunity for millions who came after her. All this happened almost 300 years ago, in 1670 to be exact, when poor families bound out their children to wealthy masters for a term of years. This widow of very humble circumstances, Faith Hollister, lived in the Plymouth Colony in what is now Massachusetts. She has walked with her 11-year-old son from her little village up to the town of Plymouth. We find her standing outside the entrance of a handsome house. Mother. Hi, Jeremy. You're squeezing my hand off, okay? Oh, am I now? I guess this vision of leaving you here. Here? Is this where Mrs. Fuller lives? Aye. And when we go in, you must speak respectfully to her. She's a great lady. Have I got to stay here, Mother? I just see what a great big fine house it is to live in, Jeremy. Yes, ma'am. And the fire curtains at the windows, Jeremy. And there'll be soft carpets. Oh, Mother. Why? How long will I be bound out? Mrs. Fuller told Pastor Williams she'd be pleased to have you for seven years. If you satisfy. Seven years is a long time. But, Jeremy, don't you forget that we are going to school. I'll not have you an ignorant, stupid, lousy, I'll not. And that's what you'd be if you stayed home with me. Now, Perka, if you let me smooth your hair down before I knock on the door. Oh, dear. There. Do you look splendid, you do? Yes. No, I'll not. You suppose there'll be some other boys in my age at school? Of course there will. Oh, you'll have a fine time, sir. Somebody's coming. Well? You're pardoned, sir. But would you be telling Mrs. Fuller that Jeremy Hollister and his mother are waiting at the door? This is the boy Mrs. Fuller is expecting. Aye. Now, show your tour at once. You must order. Follow me. Come along, Jeremy. Here's the boy and his mother, Mrs. Oh, indeed. Well, show them in. And that'll be all, Edward. Aye. You may go right in. Thank you, sir. I presume this is Goodie Hollister and the boy. Aye, Mr. Fuller. Mr. Fuller, Jeremy. I see the boy hasn't yet learned his manners. Oh, yes. Yes, he has, Mr. Fuller. But he's dead right here. No, it's no matter. We'll soon see that he learns them here. Now, the letter from your pastor told me you were quite willing to bind the boy over for eight years. Oh, you're pardoned, ma'am, but for seven years. You see, he's 11 now. What's the difference of one year? You need to be well taken care of here. But I want him freed when he's 18. You want the boy to lose the chance for a good home over a little matter of a year? Do you? I know. And it would be a good home. Very well. Then you agree? Pastor Williams told you in the letter about Jeremy being sent to school so he could learn to read and write. Aye, he mentioned that. Aye, he'll promise to that, Mr. Fuller, because that's the only reason I'm having him bound out. You can rest easily on that car. The boy shall have schooling. Thank you, ma'am. Then I'll agree to the terms. Here's the indenture. If you'll sit down at this table, there's ink and a quail. You can just sign it. Oh, you're pardoned, but I can't read. Would you mind telling me just what's in this paper? Oh, just the usual thing. The sum of 25 pounds in hand, bored and food and clothing for a period of eight. And I'll change that to seven. Seven years. You agree to let me have the boy for such services as I may require from him? Just the usual thing. But the schooling? Is that in the paper? Surely you can take my word for that, can't you? I am, ma'am. I think so, but it means so much to me. I'd rather I knew for... That's fair. That's my mark. Very well. You may say goodbye, and there'll never be all. Yes, Mrs. Polis. Good day to you, ma'am. Good day. And now, goodbye to your son. I'd be a good boy, Jeremy. Oh, brother. Mother, don't leave me. Please take me home with you. Jeremy, don't, son. It's hard enough to leave him alone. Oh, I do want to see him. But you belong here now, Jeremy. Oh, oh, oh. Don't think of now, son. It's the day ahead of the time when you're a man grown that read books and are doing time in the world. I'll be so proud then, Jeremy. And so will you. No. No, I don't want to stay. I don't want to stay. Boy, stop that noise. Why'd you take in his language upset? Mrs. Polis, please go quickly. I, Mrs. Polis, I'll be going. Boy, silence. Let go of me, Jeremy. Goodbye. Goodbye. I, Mrs. Take that boy to the seventh quarter and say that he has nothing but bread and water for three days as a punishment for this unsteemly conduct. A year passes. Faith Hollister has not been able to visit her son during that period. But at last he stands expectantly after knocking at the fuller's door. Ah, good day to you, sir. Was there something you wanted? Don't you remember me? I'm Jeremy's mother. I have come to see him. Oh, I warrant he's grown, so I hardly know him. Mother! Mother, is that you? Ah, it's me, son. Where've been you? You're coming? Oh, mother. I look like you've seen him. Oh, Jeremy. Oh, mother. Oh, come on. Oh, none of this. Let me look at you, son. My heart, you've grown. I guess I have grown some. Those are awful stabby-looking clothes you've got on, Jeremy. Ah, but, dear, you didn't know your mother was coming. Are you to put on your best bib and tucker? I warrant you. These are the best clothes I've got. You don't go to school looking like that. I don't go to school none. You don't go to school. But you have been going. Now, you do, since I've been in this house. You mean to say you've had no education at all, at all? None, mother. None. None of this. So, the strict I am, we'll see about this. Where is your missus? He's in the front of the house. Which way? Right through that door. Oh, but you can't go in there. Not without having Edward going in. See if it's all right. Here, here, you can't go through that door. I don't need anyone to see if it's all right. I'm going in and find out what's the meaning of this. This, you're not being sent to school. Mrs. Fuller. Mrs. Fuller. Who's calling me? I'll be calling you, and I want to see you. Where'd be this? Oh, there you'd be. Looky here, Mrs. Fuller. If you wish to speak to me, you should have asked Edward. I'm not asking anybody except you. And what I want to know is, why isn't my boy being sent to school the way you promised? Answer me. There is no use getting excited about it. I told you we'd take care of the boy's learning. We have a great deal to teach him. He's not ready for school yet. You promised me you'd send him to school to learn reading and writing. When he's learned his beauty here and learned his manners, perhaps then. There weren't no ifs and whens in your promise. You said you'd send him to school, and you aren't sending him. And I want to know when you're gone to keep your promise. I have done everything I agreed to do in the indenture. When are you gonna send him to school? It's not in the contract. And if you could read, you'd know it isn't. Oh. So that's it? You never intended to give him any schooling at all? You thought because I was a poor widow and the boy was bound to you, you could forget this solemn promise you made. If you don't get out of this house, goodie Hollister, I'll have you put out. I'll go. I'll go. But I'll see if you can keep my boy out of the learning you promised him. I'll have this to a magistrate. I'll go to George's toy. He often speaks before a magistrate. Before the magistrate's court, St. Hollister lost her case. But George's story appealed to the general court, which in those days was not only the legislative body, but also the highest court of appeal in the colony. Residing over the court was Governor Thomas Prent, a man whose story knew was deeply interested in public education. As our scene opens, the trial has nearly run its course. George's story is just rising to present his last rebuttal. May it be, your worship. I could like to ask St. Hollister once more to take the stand. Take the stand, may goodie Hollister. Yes, your worship. I should like to have you tell the court why you, a widow with only one son can set it apart with him for seven years. I wanted he should grow up with learning, like his father had before him. And there weren't no school where we live. So you bound him out where he could be sent to school? Aye. But I wouldn't have bound him out for anything if I suspected for a minute that he weren't going to get school. Thank you. That's all. Aye, sir. Your worship and honorable gentlemen of the court, no eloquence of mine can add to the plea you've just heard from the lips of this good woman. Whether or not she misunderstood the speech of Mrs. Fuller is a small moment. She wanted an education for her son. She thought that was what she was getting. If Mrs. Fuller had denied this honest mother her dearest wish, and it's within the province of the court to grant it to her. Our case, sir, is before you. This court stands adjourned until high noon tomorrow. What do you think they'll do, Mr. Toys? It's out of our hands now. We'll know tomorrow. In the court, the decision of the general court in the case of Hollister versus Fuller, the filing is for Mrs. Fuller. We've lost. Oh! Too bad. But in view of the peculiar circumstances of the case, the court declares that the indenture shall be null and void, and a new indenture drawn up. What does all that mean? That's an entry here. Such new indenture to provide for not less than two years of schooling for the bound service. Furthermore, as the governor of this colony, I declare that hereafter all parents and masters shall be made culpable under the law, unless their children and servants be framed in reading and the fundamental law. It is so ordered, court is dismissed. Oh, Mr. Toys, all I wanted was for my boy to have some schooling. What does it all mean? It means just that. Your son and countless other children shall have the opportunity for an education. And thus was education for the poor secured in New England. The American cavalcade moved on. The fight for education went on. Although schools were started in all parts of the country, they fell into a truly dreadful condition in the quarter-century following the American Revolution. Many of the teachers were illiterate and cowardly, the punishment inhuman and cruel, and the lessons repetitious drudgery. In one of these schools in the town of Franklin, Massachusetts, in the early 1800s, a boy of 14 named Horace Mann is sitting at his desk during recess on the second day of the fall term. His schoolmate, Jasper Goodman, comes bursting into the schoolhouse. Hi, Horace. Hello, Jasper. Come on out and play ball. There ain't enough without you. Just a minute, Jasper. Just as soon as I finish my lesson. Oh, come on. Old knows you don't care whether you're reading or not. He'll look you anyhow. Maybe, but... Oh, what do you want to read for anyway? Well, I just kind of like to know things. Don't you like to know things, Jasper? What good does it do you? I don't know. It might be handy when you grow up. I mean, what my part says, he never went to school but six weeks in his whole life. He figures this here is school and it's all foolishness. And part of the richest man in town, he pays the most taxes. They were going to have some fun this afternoon. Tom Carson's coming to school. Well, Tom's too old to come to school. He must be 20. Well, he's coming just the same. And maybe he won't have fun with old nosy. Oh, old nosy isn't so bad. He's better than that one we had last year. No, yes. He can't hit here as hard as that one could. Yes, recess is over. Here we come. Horace, Jasper? What mischief are you two up to? We ain't doing nothing. I was just reading. Don't you talk back to me. You're up to some mischief. After this, stay outdoors till recess is over. Yes, sir. Recess is over. Come on in here, honey. Quiet now. Quiet. Not a word after you come into the classroom or I'll put you in the dark closet. Take your seats quietly. Craft and spell and come to the front. Yes, yes, yes. Horace, will you stop that whisper? Jasper, move over. Let him stand there. All right, now we're ready to begin. Hello there, too, master. Hi. Good day, sir. Are you a member of the school committee? That's a good one. Me a member of the school committee. Quiet, children. I'm Tom Carson. Well, what is it you want? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a class? Well, I've come here to get a mighty learning, too. All right. Ain't this a free school? Well, no doubt. All right then, learn me something. Silence. I'll crash the hide-off in the next pupil at last. That's right, teacher. You keep them quiet, so you can start learning these things. Well, come on. Bell and class dismissed. I'm afraid, Mr. Hafton, that I'll have to ask you to stop smoking that pipe in here. Oh, you don't like my pipe, huh? Well, I'll just empty it over here. Oh, no, stop. That's my hat. Hey, you've ruined it. It's a fire. It's burning. The pump, water. Oh, that's good, Tom. Oh, I ain't sure to get Jasper. Where do I get going? Here, Horace, let me have your slate. I've got some arithmetic on it. All right. All right. On the other side. What are you doing, Tom? There. Read it. Oh, he is a big coward. Now, I'll just put that in your old boy's desk. Oh, don't do that, Tom. You'll think I wrote it. You better go get it, Horace, before those of you get fat. Oh, yes. I'll get it right now. Hey, don't touch that slate, Horace. Look at Tom. I got to... Horace, what are you doing at my desk? Why? What do you got in your hand? What? My slate. Give it here. I said give it here. No. So that's it. I'm a coward, am I? Wait till I get my strap. I'll show you how to coward. Hold on, Nosy. Leave that young and alone. Huh? What? Horace didn't like that. It's on his slate. I wrote it. And what are you going to do about it? I'll tend to you after school, Horace Mann. Oh, no, you won't. You're a big card. There ain't going to be no after school when I get through with you. Because there ain't going to be no schoolmaster left. Why, I... You hear me? You can either pick up what's left of that hat of yours and get out of town as fast as them legs can tell you, or I'll wipe up the floor with you. Oh, boy. I'll go, Mr. Cossum. Then ski that'll. Yes, I'm going. And don't you come back. Don't you make it out. Good work, Tom. Without a schoolmaster, there won't be any school, and my father won't have any school taxes to pay. I guess I fixed him, eh? Jasper, you tell your old man I'll be around for that $5, if you promise me, for closing up the school. I'll tell him. You need to comment. Square Goodman is going to pull you for what you did. You bet he is, Horace. And he's getting off cheap, too. Hmm. That doesn't seem right somehow. It seems to me that folks who want to go to school ought to have the chance. Those words spoken as a boy became for the growing man a deep-dyed conviction. Years passed, but still Horace Mann is struggling to attain the privilege of education. Mother. Mother is a new schoolmaster in town. Another one. No, no. Not just another one. This man seems different somehow. Oh, a young man, 20 years old, shouldn't expect anything from a teacher. I don't know. I don't know. 20 years old shouldn't expect anything from a district's mother. But this new teacher is really educated. He knows literature and history. That's probably his schoolmaster now. Don't let him hear you. Open the door, Horace. Come in, sir, will you? Good evening. Good evening, madam. I'm Samuel Barrett, a new teacher. I stopped by to see if you had any children, school age. I'm afraid Horace is too old for the district school. But I haven't had much schooling. Not more than six weeks and all. What studies do you teach, Mr. Barrett? The classics, philosophy, literature, preparing men for college. How old are you, Horace? Twenty, sir. That's the age for college. How would you like to go to college? Mr. Barrett, do you think that's possible? Why not? You're anxious to learn, and I'm anxious to teach. But, Mr. Barrett, when can we start? Tomorrow? Tonight? Now? In six months, young Horace Mann entered Brown University. There he was graduated with honors and later took up the study of law. Elected to the state legislature, he was prominent in reform movements and always ardently interested in education. In 1837, we find him the president of the Senate of Massachusetts, and one day he is visited in his office in the state house by the educational reformer James D. Carter. Mr. Carter, I congratulate you on getting through your bill for a state board to control education. Thank you, Mr. Mann. But everything depends on the man you get for a secretary. Quite right, Senator. What we found the man, well, I'm delighted. Yes, Mr. Mann. Governor Everett is making the appointment. Can't you guess who it is? No, no, I haven't. Well, there's only one possible selection. The governor has appointed you. Governor, what about my family? My clients. My law practice reaches through the state. It's expanding, and I don't need to tell me that. This is the opportunity, Mr. Mann, for you and Massachusetts. And the annual salary is $1,000. Hmm. Not a very glowing prospect. And yet, oh, oh, what it would mean of a people of this state. Let me consider. May I convince him, Senator Mann? Pleasure to see you at any time, Mr. Westcott. Yes. You know this cartel course? Of course. How do you do? How do you do? Senator, I want to be brief. And my railroad must buy its competitor. Mr. Westcott is my most valued client. You should know that I am considering taking the... You're the only man we can trust to negotiate for us. I'm grateful, sir. But really? I'm in a great hurry, Senator, and without waiting for you to name your fee, I'll tell you we shall pay you $20,000. Well, Senator Mann, it seems that you have no time to consider further. Yeah. Yeah, so it seems. I must make my choice. Another client, perhaps? No, not one other client, Mr. Westcott. But thousands. Yes, millions. The boys and girls of the future. I think I know what you decide. Yes, I think you do. I'm sorry. Very sorry, Mr. Westcott, but I'm no longer in the practice of law. My books are for sale. My office is for rent. From this moment on, I am devoting my life to the education of young Americans. With that decision, Horace Mann turned his back on a prosperous career at the bar and devoted the rest of his life to education. So all honor to the poor widow of Colonial's days, whose demand for schooling for her son led to the first laws of universal education. And all honor, too, to Horace Mann, the father of modern education as we know it, and whose work has inspired the countless other teachers who have come after him in the cavalcade of America. When we think of education, we think of all the arts and sciences that make up human knowledge. Chemistry is one of the most important of the sciences contributing to modern life, for it underlies nearly every industry and serves human needs in countless ways. This week, thousands of people are flocking to the automobile show here in New York to see the 1936 model, and other thousands throughout the country are thinking about new cars for themselves. The automobile might well be called a chemical factory on wheels, but the very power that drives it along the highway comes from a chemical reaction, the combustion of gasoline, and even this fuel has been vitally improved by the addition of certain chemicals. Chemistry also enters into the manufacture of almost every part and item of equipment. Metal parts are made stronger and hence safer with heat treating and case-hardening chemicals. Tires give longer mileage with greater safety because of rubber chemicals. Windows and windshields are made chatter-proof by sandwiching sheets of transparent plastic between sections of ordinary glass. For many years, up to 1921, in fact, cars were finished with slow drying paints and varnishes just like the old-fashioned bodies. DuPont Research Chemists set out to find a finish that would cut the drying time down from days to hours. The result is now well-known. DuCo helped usher in the era of faster production, which makes it possible for you to buy better cars at far less money than before. DuPont Chemists are still working to cut time and save costs in the automotive field. One of the newest finishes they have developed is DuLux, a worthy companion to DuCo. And in whatever field they're working, DuPont Chemists are striving towards the goal of better things for better living through chemistry. Again, may we suggest that you who have been listening tonight send your comments in a letter or postcard to DuPont, Wilmington's Delaware, or to your radio station. Next Wednesday evening at the same time, the leading part will be played by that distinguished star of the theater, Faye Banger, when DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. WABC, New York.