 Ports of call. Bid us rebel in their exotic spenders. Come with us as we head for Ports of Call. Only 20 years ago, our Port of Call could not have been found upon any map. Today, the whole world knows and admires it, for it is one of those miracle states born of the World War, a state whose people submerged for centuries by waves of foreign domination at last one through to the sunshine of national independence. We are about to visit colorful, inspiring Czechoslovakia, stretching its slender, verdant length across 600 miles of the heart of central Europe. Czechoslovakia has no sea coast. We cross Europe in a swift modern train to reach Prague, for centuries the capital of the ancient kingdom of Bohemia, and since 1918, capital of the new republic. Kohl Praha by the natives is a picturesque, good-natured city, rich in ancient monuments and in the enterprising modern spirit, which is already one for it an enviable place among the world's leading commercial centers. The shops lining the long central plaza delight us with their attractive merchandise, shoes and other leather goods, glassware, garnet jewelry, lace, and peasant embroideries in many brilliant colors. At the end of the square stands a heroic equestrian statue. It is the good king Wenceslaus. He, who in the 10th century, first brought the Czech tribes together in a political unit. Through the city flows the busy Blatava River, spanned by graceful bridges. On the heights of the father bank looms the huge bulk of the ancient royal palace. Of incredible size, the palace covers several hundred acres. Its immense courtyard easily houses the imposing Gothic pile of St. Vitas Cathedral. On the way in 1346, the courtyard was filled with a glittering throng of armored knights and comparison warhorses. Penets and streamers float against the sky. The bright sunshine gleams from the plumed helmets of 500 chosen warriors. John King of Bohemia is setting forth to battle. Once more, I humbly implore you, give up this expedition. They're clean, I have given my word. Oh, but, John... Oh, no, it is impossible. The English have invaded France. My ally, Philippe of Valois, needs me. Philippe knew you had been blinded. He would not hold you to your promise. Oh, because I cannot see. Do you think I'm useless? You know me, ill, my queen. No, my word has been given, and I go. Farewell. Then farewell, King John. May God protect you. Fire, help me into the saddle. Unfall my banner with the red lion of Bohemia, and forward! Forward! And the blind king leads his warriors to far off France. There, with his French ally, he meets England's king and England's black prince on the fatal field of Cressy. The English archers fend their longbows. They unleash a tempest of long shattered arrows which blackens the sky. Before that deadly blast, the allied knights fall like wheat. Before the mowers sigh, the battle becomes a shamble. Our cause is lost. Fly while there's yet time. God does not will that a king of Bohemia should fly from a field of battle. But, my lord, find a call for the assembly. Lead swords. Find your bridles one to the other with my horse in the center of the Rhine. It is done, my lord. Forward against the black prince for God's and our righteous cause. And King John won his way to the black prince. It was there that he fell surrounded by the bodies of his followers. And the glorious death of the Bohemian king on the field of Cressy has ever since inspired his countrymen with undying courage. In the castle can continue our visit of Prague. There is the statue of John Hess, the Czech's great martyr to religious liberty. We enjoy the outdoor cafes with their gay music, their golden-hued pilsner beer. We dine at the huge play-coup restaurant amidst throngs of joyous students from the University of Prague. Have vendors of cakes and candied fruits. Here in the little street of the alchemists still stand the quaint one-story houses where in Rudolph II in the 16th century housed his band of strange medieval wizards. From whose researchers he vainly hoped to draw endless stores of gold. In the heart of Prague's old city, we stop at the foot of the clock tower which rises high above the ancient town hall. The great clock is one of the mechanical marvels of Europe. And it was a memorable day in the city's history when in 1490 its builder, Hannes of Radek Kralov, announced his completion to the city fathers. Long, venerable fathers, ten long years. But now Prague has the most marvelous clock in all the world. It is merely midday, Hannes. Is everything ready? Oh, yes, Excellency. Let me start the clock. The figures on both sides of the dial. Watch them. They are moving. Those windows above the dial are opening. Yes, something's coming out of them. They seem almost alive. It's Christ leading them all. Don't worry, Peter God, it's wonderful. See, that St. Peter was the keys of heaven. There's another figure behind him and another. And another. And another. And a rooster, mother. A rooster. And he flaps his wings by the cross. Yes, listen. Use me, Excellencies. I'm weeping from happiness. This is the greatest day of my life. A great day for Prague, too, Hannes. Your clock is splendid. Splendid. Oh, and no other city in the world has such a clock. I hope your Excellencies are satisfied. Yes, Hannes, we are more than satisfied. And you shall have your reward. Go with these men. Oh, yes, Excellency. But supposing some other city gets Hannes to build them a clock, like ours. He'll start of that. Hannes will never build another clock. How soon? He will not be able to. I have given orders. You're not going to kill him? Well, no, of course not. They will only put out his eyes. It's a very simple solution, really. Since I've finished my beautiful clock, during all that time I've sat here in darkness. Think, Wife, I've never seen it since that first day. And now I'm going to die. No, no, Hannes. Yes, it's true. I shall not live much longer. But first there is something I must do. Hand me the bundle on the table, Wife. So, lead me to the town hall. Very well, Hannes. Speak to the guard at the clock tower. Well, well, Hannes. What are you doing here? Oh, if you please, I have here a permission from the mayor to visit once more before I die. My masterpiece. Very well, I'll take you up. All right. It's a long climb through the tower for an old man. I climbed it hundreds of times while I was building. My clock. Here it is, Hannes, just as you built it. Yes. It is here. My beautiful clock. My masterpiece. Take me to my clock. I would have feel it with my hands. All right. Here you are, Hannes. Now you can find your way up there. Oh, yes. I remember it all. Oh, through my fingers. I know it so well. Every tiny little part of it. Ten years I gave to this. Ten long years. Ah, great secret. No one else could contrive this but me. It is the heart. It is the heart. It is the heart. It is the heart. It is the heart. It is the heart. It is the heart. The life of my great clock. Farewell, old friend. Wait a minute. Master, you'll get this hammer. Stop that hammer. I smash it. I kill it. You madman, you've wrecked it. Yes. Yes. Yes. I wrecked it. I wrecked it. Ten years. The great clock remained motionless and silent. Only in 1550 could a master craftsman be found able to put it in order again. And ever since, Prague's unique timepiece has been the wonder and admiration of millions of visitors. The land of the Czechoslovaks is dotted with busy modern factories but it is also a pastoral country of quaint charm and unsurpassed beauty. Rich fields and verdant meadows spread their variegated colors over the rolling landscape. Extensive woodlands mantle the hills and frame with verger the mossy ramparts of romantic castles. In the valleys, praccid rivers reflect the blue sky and winding through this beautiful country, lazy white roads wander from one to another of the neat villages which dot the landscape on all sides. The love of music, which is the heritage of this splendid country, brings many of its gifted young people to the art center, the great city of Prague. Among these was the young student Antonin Vorzok. Here he studied harmony and music theory and took his first groping steps in original composition. But out of his few pennies, there was never enough to enable him to hear the works of the great masters, especially his hero Richard Bogner. One winter's night, in 1862, he hit himself in the orchestra pit of the Prague National Theater to hear a performance of his beloved Bogner. He was discovered and the next day brought before the stern the director general of the theater. Well, well, what is it? He's a new young man who hit in the orchestra pit last night, head director. Oh, yeah, yeah. Come here, young fellow. You must be crazy. What made you hide in the pit, huh? I had no money, sir. What could I do? I had to hear Bogner's music. And why do you have to hear Bogner's music in my theater if you can't buy a seat, huh? Because... because Bogner's my ideal. I study his scores day and night, and I have to hear him played and sung. I... I am a composer, sir. A composer? You had your honest Brahms to see you. Brahms? Oh, fine, fine. Ask him to come writing. You, wait. Stay over there in the corner. I'll attend to you later. Come in, come in, Brahms. This is indeed an honor. Good morning, failure. You know, I heard something amusing on my way here. They tell me you found the storeway in your orchestra pit last night. Yes, yes, that's all. Here he is. It's this chap. Oh, oh. You must really love music, young man. You are a musician, I suppose. Yes, Herr Brahms. I intend to become a composer. Good, good. What is your name? Antonin Vorschach from Pissec. Vorschach? Vorschach? Let me see. I remember. Did you write a script for the national music competition? Yes, sir, I did. I am delighted to meet you. And I may have some good news for you soon. For him? Yes, well, you see, I am one of the judges for the competition. This young man's music is really extraordinary. I wanted to give him the prize straight off, but the others think his composition is too well, too unconventional. But have patience, my boy. I am an obstinate man. Oh, Herr Brahms, I can never thank you. Me? Oh, what? You deserve it. I'll take you to see my music publisher. He will be interested. In the meantime, Peleor, don't you think there's a place for this young man in your orchestra? Oh, certainly, certainly, Herr Brahms. Then come along, Vorschach. Goodbye, Peleor. Good day, Herr Brahms. Good day, Herr... Herr Vorschach. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Direktor. With the strong and capable hand of Herr Brahms to open doors before him, Vorschach's long struggle against poverty and neglect soon ended. His genius developed rapidly. In 1892, a triumphant program at Vorschach's compositions in New York marks his installation as director of the National Conservatory of Music. Oh, please, Herr Vorschach, a statement for the press. Did you not hear the concert? Well, sure, sure, but you were something to write about. Something good to risk about yourself, Herr Vorschach. How about your early life? Well, let me see. I was born in a little village. I played the violin. I went to Prague. I composed. I was very poor. I met Brahms. I was successful. And that's all. Well, that's not much to print. I know. Perhaps you could write something. We'll wait. Yeah, that's it. You write it. Something about your impressions of America, you know. Write about America. I want to apply it, sure. But you may have to wait a long time. And then, perhaps, you will not be able to read it. What do you mean? There you see my language is music. So I shall write about America in my language. Here starts it. A symphony. And it shall be called From the New World. Through centuries of domination by Germany and Austria, the patriotic Czechs preserved their identity. Their brothers, the Slovaks, for a thousand years resisted Hungary's efforts to obliterate their individuality. And to reward this long perseverance, fate at last produced the man who was to bring them freedom. Absolutely unselfish, totally free from political ambition, he alone could perform this great task. His background, a broad, tolerant philosophy, a deep knowledge of literature and languages, a thorough understanding of all the European nations, and a more profound insight into their individual problems than any single European statesman has ever possessed. His name is Thomas Maserike. August 1914 Across all Europe sweeps the red tide of war. Dr. Maserike, this will be the worst war in history. Yes, Benet. Unbelievable suffering will stop the world. War is hateful, odious. I would have given anything to prevent it. War later directly in the path of Europe's destiny. Benet, it means the death of the old order, and it may mean liberty for our people. Oh, that is what we must work for. It must be our only aim. But we are poor, obscure, how can we act? Our success depends upon three things. Upon victory for the Allies, first of all, then upon the breaking up of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. And finally, upon world recognition of our right to self-determination. You are our only hope, Maserike. That is not exact. I shall do everything possible, of course. But success does not depend upon me. It depends upon you. Upon every one of us. Not only the Czechs in Europe, but upon the Czechs all over the world in London. And you, you are everywhere. We are poor, yes, but our cause is just. We have only to present it with the force of clear ideas and sound argument. If we do our part, providence will not fail us. I know. My work must be done abroad. And I must slip out of the country before it's too late. I will go to Rome. Thus, at 65, did Thomas Maserike begin the astonishing four-year pilgrimage which led him around the world in the cause of liberty for his people. In Rome, surrounded by other exiles, Thomas Maserike commences the herpilion test, which is to occupy him night and day. 1915, at Geneva, Thomas Maserike continues to weave the complicated tissue of intrigue. In London, Thomas Maserike succeeds in winning ten leading Fleet Street journals to the cause of Czechoslovakian independence. 1916, in Paris, Maserike persuades Aristide Brion to support his plan for the dismemberment of Austria, Hungary, and the liberation of the Czechoslovaks. 1917, in Russia, Maserike organizes the Czechoslovakian war prisoners into an independent army corps of 40,000 men to fight on the side of the Allies. He leads the Czech legions on their epoch making round the world march to reach the western front. 1918, in Washington, D.C., after a conference with Thomas Maserike, President Woodrow Wilson includes his plans in the war aims manifesto and then the armistice. At Independence Hall, Philadelphia, Thomas Maserike proclaims the independence of the new Czechoslovakian Republic. That evening, he receives a cablegram. From the depth of their grateful hearts, your people call upon you to accept the post of first president of the Republic of Czechoslovakia. And the aged Thomas Maserike, beloved idol of his people, recross the Atlantic to guide the first fateful steps of the new republic with the same lofty, unselfish, enlightened patriotism which made his long life one of the most inspiring in the pages of world history. Three at last, Czechoslovakia no longer toils for foreign overlords. Her sturdy, industrious, clear-eyed people now march on toward a glorious future in the happy consciousness that their own children will harvest the fruits of their labor. And as we take leave of Czechoslovakia, we wish this valiant newcomer to the world's republics, lasting success and every happiness. We invite you to join us again next week in this time as we journey to another of the world's fascinating ports of call.