 The life, loves, and laughter of one of America's most fascinating women, Nellie Bly. DuPont presents Agnes Moorhead as Nellie Bly in Nellie was a Lady, on the cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Now, here is Gain Whitman. Tonight, we want to tell you about Speedyzy wall finish, one of DuPont's better things for better living for home decorators. DuPont Speedyzy is that wonderfully easy-to-use new wall paint that quickly makes stained and shabby walls soft, rich, and beautiful. It is an oil-type paint, but you thin it with water and apply right over wallpaper, wall board, or any interior wall surface. It is beautiful and long-lasting. One gallon does the average room in one color, and it costs less than $3. Speedyzy is what the name says. It's quick and it's easy. It's Speedyzy, made by DuPont. The DuPont Company presents Nellie was a Lady, starring Agnes Moorhead. Ms. Moorhead is one of the stars of the Metro-Golden-Mayer production. Our vines have tender grapes. The cavalcade of America, 1885. The country is undergoing serious upsets. Women are coming out of the kitchen and invading fields hitherto considered sacred to the male of the species. One of these fields is the newspaper, and the spearhead of this invasion is a girl with big, soulful gray eyes, a man who determined and the energy of a wild cat. Nellie Bly. Nellie Bly, Nellie Bly, bring the room along. We'll sweep the kitchen, clean my deer, and have a little song. Taking her name from the popular song by Stephen Foster, Nellie has journalism by the throat and shakes until it cries for mercy. Nellie will do anything for a story. Well, no, not anything. It's still the elegant 80s, and Nellie is always a lady. No, indeed, sir. You may not invite me to dinner. I do not consider that going up in a balloon with you constitutes a proper introduction. Hi, Nellie, oh, Nellie, listen close to me. It is the year 1888, and Nellie, fresh out of Pittsburgh, has just talked herself into a job on the New York world. Come in. Oh, what can I do for you, Miss? You're Mr. John Dale, aren't you? I wonder if you'd object if I moved in. Moved in? Yes, and Mr. Pulitzer just told me. That is, I've just been taken on as a reporter and the other gentlemen, well, I'm afraid they don't like women reporters. Well, we haven't had very many, Miss. A Bly, Nellie Bly, just like the song. If you wouldn't mind, that little desk over in the corner would suit me nicely. If you wouldn't mind. Well, I certainly not, Miss Bly. And anything I can do to help you, I introduce you to society. Oh, but that's not what I want, Mr. Dale. I didn't come to New York to write about cookery and Valentine's and society reception. But you can't hope to cover the police court, Miss Bly, or attend prize fights. But why not, if I wanted to? Well, there must be other stories here in the city, Miss Bly. What about the hospitals, the charitable institutions? Surely those are places for a woman's sympathetic interest. Well, I haven't thought of that. I shall have myself committed to an insane asylum. What? But how, Miss Bly, how will you do that? Just you wait and see. City of Denmark. Barrington, I hope I haven't disturbed you. Rows my entire boarding house, Miss Bly. One of my boarders is even called the police. Please, be good enough to vacate your room in the morning. Well, I'm just preparing to write a story exposing conditions in the home for the insane on Blackwell's Island. Oh, poor things, it's said they're horribly mistreated. Indeed? Yes, I'm planning to feign insanity so that I can be committed and reveal the truth. Oh, you must help me, Mr. Barrington. Well, I shall be glad to, Miss Bly. But pray, let us have no more disturbance. Disturbance? I was only practicing with these speeches from Hamlet. I would give you violence. Oh, yes, Sophia. Sophia, yes. A very affecting role. Now, Miss Bly, I was on the stage myself for a number of years. Oh, no. For the portrayal of madness. If you will observe my rendition of the scene from Lear. My finest role. Blow wings and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow! You cataracts and flurricans! Spout! Why are the police here? Success, Mr. Barrington. Remember, my name is Sophia Jones. What's the commotion here? Officer, this woman has gone stark-raving mad. I tell you what? Well, I'd better call the wagon. Put in your mouth, my girl, or you'll get the cold water treatment and a few thumps over the head. Maytran, I insist that you take me to the superintendent. There's nothing one ever the matter with me, and I refuse to stay in this place for another night. Listen to her now. Miss High and Mighty refuses to stay, she does. Mrs. Cobb, you don't understand. I've been pretending I'm a reporter. I'll report it to the New York world. Well, ain't that nice, reporter? Over in that cell is Napoleon's wife, and over here is Queen Elizabeth, reporter. Well, why don't you write a little story? I'll write a story, a story that will expose every bit of the graft, unfilth, and brutality of this horrible wine. And you know what, Mrs. Cobb? I'm going to write a special chapter about you. Clean up conditions on Blackwells Island, extreme. Oh, you little lady, don't you see there's a sign there to skip off the grass? Yes, yes, officer. But if I don't step on the grass, how can I pick the flowers? Oh, pick the flowers. Oh, that ain't allowed either, ma'am. Well, I am picking them. Why do you intend to do that? Oh, I don't think we would wreck city hard if a pretty little lady like you were to take a few pauses. All right, I'll be right back. Stop picking up that story. Don't do it, don't do it! Oh, black in a window, will you? Well, if it's jail you want, that's just what you're going to get. Bye, today. Well, Miss Nellie, I must admit you cleaned up Blackwells Island and the lady's jail, but really, Nellie. And this week, John, I'm going to Albany to be a lobbyist. Oh, no. I intend to catch that arch-briber and bootler, Mr. Jonas Walsh. Bribery and craft ringing state capital. Read all about it. Miss Bly, Nellie, that was going too far, really, associating with low corrupt politicians. Oh, I don't know what you mean, Mr. Dale. Jonas Walsh was a crook, to be sure, but aside from that, he was rather a sweet old man. And that isn't all, Miss Nellie. My aunt tells me she saw you yesterday behind the counter at Wanamaker selling men's nightgowns. Well, I was merely collecting material for my Sunday story, the problems of a shop girl. There's such a thing as going too far, even for a good story. You aren't a newspaper woman. You're a public menace. Oh, indeed. Indeed. Well, if my presence is annoying, I beg to remind you that this is my office, too. Oh, I apologize most humbly, Miss Nellie. It's only that I... Well, it wounds me for you to do these things, because I... Well, I... Good heavens, Miss Nellie. Why are you putting on that bonnet? Salvation Army is starting a new campaign for funds. I'm marching with them this evening, and you know they're letting me beat the drum. And the butter of Mrs. Norton. She's given her season's musicale right up there in the ballroom. And Mrs. Norton requested you move on. Oh, yes? Well, please ask Mrs. Norton if she had mind stepping out for a moment. I'd like to speak to her personally. Mrs. Eggelson, DePyster Norton, do you realize that you're disturbing the guests of my musicale? Well, we'd be glad to move on. Only we're launching our campaign for the new Bowery Shelter. Perhaps you would like to drop a little something on the drum, ma'am. Oh, you won't get a penny from me. All those idle, shiftless people, if they can't take care of themselves, they're better off dead. Oh, really, Mrs. Norton? May I quote you on that sentiment? You certainly may. And now will you please go? You're ruining my entire evening. Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry, Mrs. Norton. If you should change your mind, you may call on me tomorrow at the New York World with your donation, which I'm sure will be a generous one. Just ask for Nellie Bly. Ladies and young girls strolling through Central Park of late are being subjected to all sorts of annoyances from idle, pleasure-loving men who have no better way to spend their time. One particularly offensive masher appears only on Wednesdays, so tomorrow I shall don my prettiest frock and station myself beside the lily pond. Lovely day, isn't it? Oh, yes, sir. Lovely. Those fine little boys playing over there, are they yours? My, sir. Just taking the air alone, huh? Well, I try to get as much sun as I can, so dreadfully dance in my basement room. Oh, what a pity. You must neglect your health like this. I say, how about a spin with me? I'll put the top down and we'll get plenty of sun. Oh, really, sir? I don't think I'll... Oh, now, now, not another word. Here we go. Upstayzy. How's this all cozy and comfy? Oh, where am I? Where is this? There's a sort of a private club, my dear. Now, suppose we think about a little supper. Shall it be oysters, rockfellows, champagne? Oh, I don't think I should eat anything. I must go home. Grandma Ma will worry. Oh, but you can't run away like this. Oh, please, please, I must. Where is my cloak? Not so fast, my little flirt. I'll get a kiss out of this. Oh, sir, sir, let me go. I'll scream. You can't play with a man like this. You know, you little demon. Come here now, come here. What is your name, my dear? Well, if you would like to know my name, look into Marl's issue of the New York world. The New York world? You're not. Nellie Bly, sir, at your service. And I took care to find out your name, too, from the waiter, Mr. J. Wellington Potter. Why, you little vixen. Have a care, sir. I shall print every word. Well, all right, Miss Bly, you feel very clever. And I can appreciate a joke as well as the next one. But let's be sensible. I'm a prominent man. And I'm hoping to marry a fine innocent girl. But that doesn't prevent you from pursuing other innocent girls, breaking their young hearts and blackening their reputation. Oh, for shame. You deserve no pity, and you shall have none for me. Buy the world tomorrow and read the truth about yourself. You monster in man's clothing. Good evening, Mr. Potter. This dead is a mummy. People aren't doing anything they shouldn't. There's nothing left to expose. Oh, Miss Nellie. Oh, I'm tired of it all. This horrible office and the smell of ink. Oh, Miss Nellie, I knew you'd come to feel that in time. A newspaper office is no place for a lovely woman like you. I say, let's forget about it for a night. My aunt has a box at the opera, and Patty is singing. Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Dale. I really don't care for the opera. I'll have supper, send up to my room, and read myself to sleep. I'd like to borrow one of your new books, if I may. Yes, of course, but... Sir Hall Cain, Mrs. Humphrey Ward, Jules Verne, Around the World in 80 Days. Around the world... Around the world? Around the world! Oh, no. Oh, why not? Oh, no, Miss Nellie, you can't. Can't? Why? Mr. Dale, I'll wade your eye. I can make it in less than 80 days. But all alone, those savage countries. Miss Nellie, it's dangerous. Oh, nonsense, Mr. Dale. I've always maintained that a woman can go anywhere and do anything with perfect safety as long as she behaves in a lady-like manner. Any ways can she travel around the world? While listening to Agnes Morehead as Nellie Bly, in Nellie Was a Lady on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. We'll sweep the kitchen, clean my mirror, and have a little song. Nellie Bly, the famous girl reporter of the New York world, has become the most talked-of woman in her profession. She's ripped the whole city to pieces and put it together again. And now she looks toward broader fields. The whole world, in fact. Nellie is in a dither as the day of her globe-spanning, time-defying journeys at hand. Now, Mr. Dale, John, Mr. Pulitzer has assigned you to cover my trip around the world. I shall cable you whenever and wherever it's possible. Yes, Miss Nellie, but I... Now, Mr. Dale, you must say that I wish to travel unencumbered by heavy luggage. I'm taking two light satchels. Miss Nellie, won't you listen to... Two satchels and two traveling costumes. A blue plaid and a tropical ensemble of Campbell's hair cloth. My plaid Ulster. A light waterproofer downpour. Miss Nellie, this may be our last moment together. A toothbrush, a bank book, and a pair of easy-fitting shoes. You may point out that I've had only four days to get ready. You'll undergo hardships, privations, grave dangers. Oh, cool, Mr. Dale. I shan't touch on any but civilized countries. I dare say there'll always be a cup of tea and a hot water bottle. Miss Nellie, at least. At least you must tell me one thing now. May I... dare I have any hope? Hope, Mr. Dale? Yes. Hope that one day you will give me the inexpressible happiness of becoming my wife. Surely you must feel there's something beyond all this. Mr. Dale, John, I wouldn't be a true woman if I hadn't dreamed sometimes of a husband and a home. All the lonely hours I've spent in my little room after those days' work is done... Miss Bly, time, Miss Bly, 3.30. Oh, oh, I must hurry. My boat. Miss Bly, Nellie, just one more word. But I... You must promise during your trip to think of what I've said and give it your consideration. Yes, yes, I... Miss Bly, the mayor is here. The mayor! And you'll give me your answer on your return. Now, goodbye, John. But promise me one thing, John. Yes, anything but I... If you really love me, be sure that I get a good press. Goodbye, goodbye. Friends, goodbye. Today I begin my race with Father Time. In my hand, I hold a 24-hour watch so that at each moment I may know the time in New York City and count the hours until I return to you. So, goodbye! Goodbye! November 14th, 1889. As Nellie Bly leaves on her trip around the world, she begins what is to be the most highly publicized journey since Hannibal crossed the Alps and General Sheridan marched through Georgia. My cable to the New York world, London, England. I'd always heard that London was very foggy. It is. That the English people drink a great deal of tea. They do. That the complexions with the women are beautiful and the men are very well-dressed. They are. Today Miss Bly will pause in her headlong race with Father Time to pay a visit to Jules Verne, famed author of Around the World in 80 Days. It is foolish, Mamsel. Why must you, a young woman, go around the world faster than my fictional character Phineas Fogg, an old man who never lived? Because my paper wishes to show how fast one can go around the world, don't you see? No, no, no, Mamsel, I do not. Americans, they are foolish. Women are foolish. Why are you not at home, raising a family around the world in 80 days? Ah! That is nonsense! Following my inspirational meeting with Mr. Van, I rejoin the ship and go on to Brindisi. Lovely, lovely Italy. It is engraved on my heart forever. I bitterly regret that I can only stay for two hours and twenty minutes, but I must hurry on. Nellie Bly on the fly. It is November 25th and Nellie Bly is on the 11th day of her trip, one day behind schedule. From Maine to Mexico, from Louisiana to Liverpool, men, women and children are charting her course on maps, hanging on her every move, sending up prayers for her safety. November 27th. I've reached port side on the Suez, the wickedest city in the world, where one's life is worth less than a straw in the wind. December 18th, 34 days out of New York. Nellie Bly has traveled to Singapore, and the whole world travels with her. Will she make it? Will she break the record? Or will she not? Families are divided. Men argue in the streets. And in the southern states, it is said that several duels have been fought. But for me, no holly, no Christmas pudding. Far on the other side of the globe in fabled China, I eat my Christmas dinner alone in the Temple of the Dead. Nellie Bly, two days behind schedule. The New York world disclaims any financial responsibility for any bets, pools, wagers, connected with Miss Bly's trip for the time of her arrival. I'm on the last hitch of my race with time. Soon, soon I'll come to the end. I have one morning and part of an afternoon for a tour of Japan, then across the broad Pacific. At San Francisco, a train is waiting to speed Miss Bly across the country. Cheering crowds gather at every station. Nellie responds with queenly curtain. Nellie Bly, Nellie Bly, Nellie Bly, Nellie Bly. Father time out done by Nellie Bly. Miss Bly steps off her train to Jersey City. Nellie, she has traveled 24,899 miles in 72 days, six hours and 11 minutes. Please, Nellie, just a word. I know Bly has beaten Phineas Fogg's fable record by almost eight days. I'm so proud of you, very proud of it all. Nellie, Nellie Bly. Mr. Dale, John. Miss Nellie, may I be so bold as to inquire, what are your plans now? Oh, rest, Mr. Dale. I'm so tired. If you'll call on me, perhaps a week from Tuesday night. I must speak to you now, Miss Bly. Yes, I know, I know. You want your answer. Mr. Dale, this is very difficult for me, but I must tell you... One moment. Miss Bly, in spite of my great regard for you, I am convinced that any more intimate association between us would be a mistake. What? I'm a simple man, and my only desire is for a simple life with a home and children. Miss Bly, I have followed your progress during these past weeks, and I cannot believe you could ever be content to share such a home as I can offer. If I'm wrong, pray forgive me. You're far from wrong, Mr. Dale. I too had arrived at precisely that conclusion, and I was about to tell you, though. It would have been more the part of a gentleman, I think, to let the words come from me. Oh, I... I am most heartily sorry, Miss Bly. It's only that I... No doubt you are right. I've had little time to think about myself. The whole world reads about my trip, but what befalls Mellie Bly herself is of no consequence. No importance at all. No one cares. Oh, Miss Bly, Nellie. Oh, I'm a brute, a beast. I never dreamed you'd feel like this. Well, Nellie, ready for a little work? No. No, Mr. Cockrell, I... I must rest for at least a fortnight. Ah, but there's an assignment for you. Oh, no, no, I couldn't really. You know, Jeremiah Harker, you know, the blonde bluebeard, the confessed murderer of 17 women? 17 women? Oh, Miss Bly, you mustn't. He escaped on the way to Sing-Sing and has barricaded himself in an old house on the river. He's shooting everyone on sight, but promises to give Nellie Bly an interview. He asked for me, personally? Miss Bly, Nellie, you can't do such a thing. Oh, don't be quiet, Mr. Dale. Mr. Cockrell, when must I go if I go? At once, Miss Bly, the police are going to burn the house down if they can't get him out the other way. Oh, then we must hurry. Oh, but what life where? I should appear older, much older, like a mother. You must have had a mother. Come along, Mr. Cockrell, and help me find something to wear. Goodbye, John. Hi, Nellie. Oh, Nellie, listen, love to me. I'll sing for you. Pray for you. A dose of melody. Agnes Morehead, heard tonight as Nellie Bly, will return in just a moment to our cavalcade microphone. Now, here is Gain Whitman. Many a soldier who owns a house wonders how it held up while he's been away. If the weather has damaged it, if it needs a coat of paint, not long ago, a soldier in the Pacific area, but Andrew J. Waldron, wrote home to a friend of his in the office of the real estate broker and manager in Boston. He asked his friend, Mr. Tillingast, to take a look at the Waldron house. So, Mr. Tillingast, and by the way, this is a true story, took a look at Private Waldron's house and then sat down and wrote him a long, friendly letter about the weather and his own little daughter, Clara Gain, and her piano lessons, and the house. I don't blame you for asking how your house looks, he wrote. As you put a great deal of work into it, including the outside painting, rest assured it's just as attractive as ever and the paint is standing up well. Most houses painted white do not begin to look as good as yours. I think you use DuPont paint, and if that's the case, they certainly have a paint that stands up. The reason we happen to hear about this is that Private Waldron was kind enough to take the time to write to the DuPont company and tell us about it. I'm very glad now, he wrote, that I used a good grade of paint when I did that job four years ago. Private Waldron's house has stayed gleaming white through four New England winters and thousands of other houses in all parts of America have stayed white through all the war years because DuPont outside white is self-cleaning. It is the whitest white that can be made. One whole department of the DuPont company, the pigments department, is given over to the continual development and improvement of pigments, which give whiteness and color to paints. The pigment that gives the whiter white to DuPont paint is titanium dioxide, one of many scientifically compounded DuPont pigments. And the finishes division carries on research to develop the best and longest lasting vehicles for the pigments. We can now look forward to the time when even newer and further improvement paint, improved paints will be on the shelves of your local DuPont dealer, paint that will be noteworthy examples of DuPont better things for better living through chemistry. And now here is the star of tonight's DuPont cavalcade, Agnes Morehead. This year we will at last be able to say peace on earth when we send Christmas greetings to our servicemen and women overseas. The Christmas mail will be delivered safely and on time, but only if we cooperate here at home. The official time for mailing overseas Christmas packages is between now and October 15th, preferably by the end of this month. Remember the time for mailing is from September 15th to October 15th. These days we are living in a new era in world history when science seems to take giant leaps into the future. Man is on his way toward conquering many of the terrors of yesterday, including epidemic disease. Next week cavalcade will tell the thrilling story of how science has fought the battle to stay alive. Our star will be Robert Young. Tune in next week for the battle to stay alive starring Robert Young on the DuPont cavalcade. Cavalcade programs of particular interest to servicemen and women are broadcast overseas through the worldwide facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Service. The music for tonight's DuPont cavalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Ambruster. Our cavalcade play was written by Turner Bullock. This is Tom Collins inviting you to listen next week to Robert Young in The Battle to Stay Alive on the cavalcade of America brought to you by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is the National Broadcasting Company.