 The Cavalcade of America, presented by Dupont. Among the practical men of vision in our country's history is one who left a career of science for his duty to his country and became great in both. This man was David Rittenhouse, astronomer, mathematician, and patriot. This evening the Dupont Cavalcade presents some highlights in his colorful eyes. David Rittenhouse was always striving to bring more comforts and conveniences into the lives of his contemporaries. This also is the aim of the research chemist who helps to provide a fuller and more complete existence for all. This thought is aptly expressed in the Dupont Pledge. Better things for better living, through chemistry. As an overture, Don Voris and the Dupont Cavalcade Orchestra bring us Cole Porter's melody, Night and Day, from the musical comedy, The Gay Divorce. The Dupont Cavalcade... David Rittenhouse came into the world April 8th, 1732. His great-grandfather, a Dutchman, had established the first paper manufacturer in America. It can still be seen today in Fairmont Park, Philadelphia, where papermill run flows into the Wissahickan Creek. In a house adjoining this mill, David Rittenhouse was born. That same year, his father moved to a farm at Norrerton, Pennsylvania. When David was 14, he was faced with his first great decision. His father storms into the kitchen where Mrs. Rittenhouse is busy cooking supper. He's out fetching some wood for the fire. It is good he is something useful doing. No, he's always doing something useful. He's a hard worker and you know it, Matt. What have you got to dutch up about now? You can save your opinions about the Dutch. They're the only race that could make a living with so many of your welts around here. Well, the welts know a good bargain when they see it. That's why I married you. No, there's no use trying to get around me with that. Now what's wrong with Divi? I see him. Well, here he comes now. But now whatever it is, Matt, I'm on his side. Oh, thank you, dear. That's great. No, that isn't rain, dear. It's just your father looking like a thunder cloud. Shut the door, David. Yes, ma. David. Yes, father? What do you mean wasting your time when there's so much work to be done? I don't remember wasting any time, father. How do you know he was wasting his time, ma'am? There is plenty of evidence on every building around here. They're covered with numbers and drawings. Even the woodsheds full of them. That's why I hope it won't rain tonight. I have a calculation on the spring house. It's only half finished. It's only written in charcoal, you know. What's only written in charcoal? Figures. Unsense. Could that make head or tails of it? Well, neither can I with some of them. But I will. Where did you put uncle's book on Newton, Ma, that Principia? What's there on the shelf, dear? Elizabeth, I knew those things your brother left David would take his mind off his work. Now he brings in all the wood we need. You let David do all the figurine he has a mind to. Well, I don't take no stock in it. Well, what of it so long as David does? You're mighty proud of it, too, messiahs. I notice you've still got that water mill model he made when he was only eight years old. No, I've got uncle's tool chest. I can make almost anything. I wish I had more time to give to making things. What would you like to make, David? Well, I think I'd like to make clocks. Clocks? Like clocks? Of course people need them and can't get them. I could make a shop in one end of the woodshed. But, David, I need you on the farm. But he'll be good at that kind of work, ma'am. Let him do it. I'll be on the farm when you need me most. But I can make clocks in winter and he'll bring in money when we have a bad year. Well, there, messiahs. Is that practical enough to suit you? Well, all right, David. Give it a try. But don't you forget your choice. Yes, father. As the years passed by, the name of David Rittenhouse on fine clocks drew the attention of many celebrated men. When his brother-in-law, the Reverend Thomas Barton, became a professor in the College of Philadelphia, now the University of Pennsylvania, he introduced David to Dr. Smith, provost of the college. David Rittenhouse is now 31 years old. One day he is working in his shop. Come right on in. I'm glad to see you. Thanks, David. I've brought a friend with me, Mr. John Lukens, surveyor general of the province. How do you do that? Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Rittenhouse. I hope the new clock is ready. I'm eager to see it. Well, you're just in time, then. I was testing the chimes. Yes, we heard them, but what is this on the dial? It looks like the sun and the moon. That's what they are, and all the planets. I figured out a planetary machine that works with the timepieces. I've read of something like this, being owned by the Earl of Oury in England, named after him. Yes, the Oury. I hope to make a better one than his someday. What? Oh, yes, of course. But this clock is most ingenious, isn't it, Lukens? Yes, but will it keep good time? I'll guarantee it's accurate. Indeed, and how do you know that? I've checked it against the movements of the heavenly bodies themselves. Why, David, that would take astronomy. Who ever heard of a clockmaker being an astronomer? You did, sir, the moment you heard of me. You see, a clock must measure the same time measured by the sun and moon. So I taught myself astronomy. That's how I got the data for the planetary machine here. You certainly go to a lot of trouble to make a clock. Not to make a good clock. I find a great deal of pleasure in astronomy. Astronomy would make surveying easy for you. Yes, and accurate. You see, only by using astronomy can we find the exact latitude and longitude of any place on Earth. That's very true. The trouble is now we have only places on maps. Nobody knows where they are on the actual ground. That's a good way to explain it. No wonder the colonies are in endless boundary disputes. Exactly, sir. Every man knows he has a farm, but no man knows where on Earth it is. Yes, that's the trouble with youth Pennsylvania and Maryland have been fighting for twenty years in the British Court of Chancery. Even now that it's settled, they still don't know where their boundaries are on the ground. We soon will. Mr. John Penn has ordered us to anticipate the findings of the court's commissioners by making our own survey. Oh, indeed, and when will you start? As soon as Mr. Rittenhouse is ready. Sir? I rode out with Dr. Smith today to see if you would undertake to survey the boundary lines between Pennsylvania and Maryland. Uh, what will become of my work here? Well, it will still be here, David, when you come back. Well, there's still another reason. No, gentlemen, I'm afraid I can't do it. Of course, the northern boundary of Delaware presents an awkward problem. Surveying this circumference of a circle with a radius twelve miles from Newcastle is something new to our geometry. It isn't that, sir. Well, whatever it is, I'm sure David has a good reason. Well, the truth is, gentlemen, there's a young lady, the daughter of a neighboring farmer, Miss Eleanor Colston. We were planning to be married, and I can't take a wife on a surveying trip. Well, I'm sure she'll wait for you, David. And you will have fame and honor to offer her then. You surely can't refuse this service to the province. Well, gentlemen, if you'll put it that way. All right, Mr. Lukens, I'll go. Good. The proprietor will thank you, sir. The result of the surveying expedition won the clockmaker a bonus. The line David Rittenhouse surveyed as the boundary between Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland was later checked and found astronomically correct by two commissioners sent out from England. Their names were Mason and Dixon. Moreover, Rittenhouse, the first to measure actually one degree of the meridian on this earth. The work took several months, and the instruments Rittenhouse used, he made himself. The next year, he married Miss Eleanor Colston, and they lived on the farm at Norrerton, which his father had turned over to him. One evening in 1767, David is working in his shop when his wife enters. Good Rittenhouse, what on earth are you doing? I called you to suffer, and now I'll go. Oh, I'm sorry, Eleanor, I'm putting the finishing touches on my orary. Orary? Now, you remember the invention of the Earl of Orary? That's what this is, an orary, really. Much more like the real thing. What real thing? The solar system. That machine? Yes, dear. See, it reproduces the movements of all our planets and their satellites exactly in the populations. At what time? Any time you want it. It'll show their exact position as it was or will be, any time within 5,000 years. Oh, let me feed you for it. You must be feverish. Well, I am a little excited, Eleanor. The Earl of Orary just had a toy that showed a few globes going around in circles. But my machine places all the planets in their proper ellipses and conforms to Kepper's completed theory originated by Copernicus. What on earth are you talking about? About my orary. Now, I want to show you how it works. Now, you see the motions of this main face here are registered on dials that give the exact relationships to the year, month, and day. Well, what are these other two faces for? Well, this one shows the moon and its monthly eclipses. And this other shows the movements of Jupiter and his moons and Saturn with his ring and satellites. Well, you can see it. Look, there. See them revolving? There, the moon goes from the quarter to the four. Yeah. It works all right. But, oh, I can't believe a human being could make it. Not even you. Well, you can be sure it didn't just pop together by itself, Eleanor. Well, there you are. Well, what are you going to do with it? The College of New Jersey at Princeton wants to buy it. Well, I should think you'd rather let our own college have it, David. Well, I'll make another one for them. Just now we need all the money we can get. What for? I want to move into town where I can be close to things. We've always lived on a farm. I'd be afraid to live in town. Well, I could use the money to build an observatory out here. An observatory? What on Earth do you want to observe? Nothing on Earth. I want to observe the heavens. There'll be a transit of Venus across the sun in 1769. I want to see it. Well, all right, David. If you want to, I think you should. You seem to know so much about stars and such things, but you don't know how to take care of yourself. Now come to supper. All right, my dear. I'll do whatever you say. Oh, but, David, I really am proud of you. And don't let anything turn you aside. Not even me. You follow your star. When Rittenhouse finished his oratory, which was the mechanical forerunner of our modern marvel, the planetarium, he took it to the great scientific organization called the American Philosophical Society, whose president was Benjamin Franklin. Franklin is absent in London on business for the colonies. So another member of the society, Thomas Jefferson, looks at the machine. Mr. Rittenhouse, as an artist, you have established as great a proof of mechanical genius as the world has ever produced. Mr. Jefferson, your praise embarrassed me. But it's deserved. Your friend, Provost Smith, tells me you plan for observing the transit of Venus. Yes. The conditions for this rare phenomenon will be perfect here. What special advantage, except the honor, will there be in seeing it? By taking sights on Venus as it passes across the body of the sun, we can figure more exactly the solar parallax and find out how far the Earth is from the sun. What places have been selected for official observations? The astronomers in Europe have sent expeditions to Lapland, Hudson's Bay, California Territory, and Peek Inn. And none to these colonies? No. Though conditions are best here in our province, I'm building an observatory of my own at Norrerton. We must build another, near the philosophical society in Statehouse Square. Where will you get the equipment for it? Telescopes, micrometers, timekeepers, many things. I've had to make my own. We must then shall do our best to give America her proper place in the world of science. The Pennsylvania State Legislature voted money. Benjamin Franklin sent a telescope from London. On the day of the transit of Venus across the sun, conditions were perfect. Rittenhouse at Norrerton was assisted by Provost Smith and John Lukens. At the Statehouse Square, other scientists watched at a third point, Cape Enlopen and Delaware, or in Biddle observed through another telescope. At first the findings of Rittenhouse were ignored in Europe because they were at variance with the preconceived ideas there. But later when all reports were in, he was found to have computed the exact average of all readings, placing the sun 96 millions of miles distant from the Earth. That same year, he again distinguished himself, this time in the field of physics. One evening he burst into the house with a new apparatus. Where are you? Landfake, David, what's the fire? Nothing but the sun, Eleanor, and I can measure every degree of it here with this. Look. Nonsense. You can't measure temperature without mercury. Even I know that. And there's no mercury in that thing. Eleanor, you know that metal expands with heat and contracts with cold. Yes, I know that. Well, this is a metallic thermometer. Oh, well, your eyesight's better than mine if you can see metal expanding. No, I've designed a device and an instrument to do that for me. Now, the change in the metal moves a hand on this dial here. It's marked in degrees Fahrenheit. Look. See? It shows a rising temperature as I bring it closer to the fire. But how do I know that's the right temperature? Well, here's a mercury thermometer. See? They have the same reading. Well, I'm past being surprised by you and more, David. But what put it into your head? I had to find some way to make clock pendulums that wouldn't change their length with changes of temperature. And this is the same principle. You have so many inventions, David. I think we ought to move into town now if you still want to. I do, but we can't afford it. It costs more money to live in town. And until the heavens provide enough money, we'll have to continue to live off the ground. Now, who can that be? Come in. Well, Dr. Smith, this is a pleasant surprise. Well, good day, David. Good day, Mrs. Rittenhouse. Good day, Doctor. David, you must prepare to move to town at once. Your personal opportunity and your duty to your fellow men are both there. I think I should stay here at Norerton. Well, the choice is no longer yours. The State Assembly has chosen for you. I don't understand you, sir. They have made you one of the three commissioners of the loan office. What? And that's not all. They've given you an outright grant of 300 pounds and appropriated another 400 pounds for a third or a double the size of the others. David! But, Dr. Smith, why have they done all this? Well, I... I'd best to tell you in their own exact words. They say, as a testimony of the high sense which this house entertains of its mathematical genius and mechanical ability. I'm honored more than I deserve. Well, we feel that we're honored to have you one of us. And can enjoy the company of your scientific friends in town. You'll be a welcome neighbor for members of the Philosophical Society. It's a great opportunity, David. A great career is opening up before you. Already, your reputation is worldwide. And all I wanted to do was to make a good clock. The DuPont Cavalcade moves forward. Rittenhouse's enjoyment of work and research in the city was doomed to be short-lived. In 1775, he was made a member of the Committee of Public Safety. When Benjamin Franklin was called to the new General Congress, Rittenhouse was elected to take the place he vacated in the State Assembly. He was a member of the State Constitutional Convention. And under the new State Constitution, he was elected State Pressurer. His public career now took all his time and energy. On Franklin's death, Rittenhouse succeeded him as president of the Philosophical Society. And he hoped at last to continue his long-interrupted career in science. But the rise of the new government of the United States made further demands on in the public service. On July 1, 1792, he sits in the office of President Washington. Mr. Rittenhouse, your work as trustee of the Pennsylvania loan office was very distinguished. Thank you, Mr. President. But I have retired from all state affairs. I think at last I have earned some time for my scientific work. Earned it? Yes. Beyond doubt and many times over. But by that very experience, your country has great need of you. I can think of no office that can't be filled better by someone else. But I can. You alone are best qualified for the new executive office. I must appoint today. For 13 years, you were treasurer of our rich estate. As trustee of its loan office, you made it the most profitable and yet of greatest benefit to the individual of any in America. It seemed imperative since the loans were the basis of our currency. Exactly. And our currency is now in great confusion. In point of fact, sir, we have no national currency. We shall have. To have a currency, we must first have a place to coin it. We'll have our own national mint as soon as it can be built and equipped. I need your help. If I might, I could suggest the man for a chief coiner. His name is Henry Voight. His name is Camilla. He's a watchmaker. A watchmaker for such a position? I am a clockmaker, sir. Of course. I forgot. But Voight has made bigger things than watches. He made the engine for John Fitter's steamboat. Oh, yes. That's where I heard of him. Well, who else can you suggest for the staff? Why should I select the staff, sir? Because, Mr. Rittenhouse, I have selected you for the first director of the United States Mint. I appreciate the honor, Mr. President. But I have set my heart on retiring to my observatory and spending my few remaining years... Mr. Rittenhouse, I understand. But the business of our country, our credit, our prosperity demand a sound and adequate currency. No one is so well suited for this task as you. I beg this further sacrifice of you. You will accept. When you put it that way, Mr. President, I must accept the good, and please accept my thanks and the nation's gratitude. Four years more in the work of David Rittenhouse, self-taught scientist was done. But his inventions lived after him and inspired the minds of many who followed. Today, several of his remarkable precision instruments, including the famous oratory, are on view at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. After his death in 1796, an unusual tribute was paid to his memory. A memorial service was held in Philadelphia and a eulogy was delivered in the presence of the mayor, the city council, the state assembly, and the president and Congress of the United States. Dupont salutes David Rittenhouse, pioneer scientist and patriot, as one of the worthy leaders in the cavalcade of America. If David Rittenhouse, one of America's pioneer scientists were alive today, he would be keenly interested in one of the latest achievements of modern science. It is this. Dupont research chemists now make sponges from spruce trees. Yes, sponges made of cellulose from spruce tree wood. Sponges that have never seen the ocean yet would even fool the fish. These new Dupont cellulose sponges have all the qualities you expect in a sponge, plus several brand new advantages all their own. They float, won't sink and pick up grit from the bottom of the pail. They contain no sand or seashell particles so they won't scratch. They can be cleaned and sterilized by boiling, yet they won't crumble and absorb 20 times their own weight of water. All of these qualities because the new cellulose sponge comes from the chemical laboratory instead of the floor of the ocean. These sponges are ideal for the bath, equally good for dish washing. You can polish metal, silverware and furniture with them because they're not affected by most household chemicals by dilute lyes and acids or abrasives. That's one reason they're excellent for waxing woodwork and linoleum, for cleaning leather goods and white shoes, for washing automobiles or the baby, for wiping off photographic and x-ray film. These and many other uses make the Dupont cellulose sponge a versatile helper in home and industry. In its chemical manufacturing business, the Dupont Company Cellulose Research, which utilizes both wood and cotton, has produced many useful products. Man-made fibers for luxurious fabrics, coated textiles for book bindings, upholstery and many other uses, plastics for toiletware, fountain pen barrels and handbags, transparent wrapping material for everything from candy bars to new houses and dozens of others. The development of the new Dupont sponge is one more example of how research chemistry has used one of nature's raw materials, wood cellulose, to create something new and useful, which did not exist before. Here we see again how Dupont chemists provide better things for better living through chemistry. The pine-tree shilling, the story of the coining of the first money in the American colonies will be the subject of our broadcast when next week at the same time, Dupont again presents the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.