 The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the cavalcade of America. Our play, Liston My Children, starring Richard Widmark as Paul Revere. Our narrator is Cy Harris. A very of hoops in a village street, a shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, and beneath from the pebbles in passing, a spark struck out by a steed flying fearless in fleet. That was all. So the poet wrote, but that wasn't all. The man who rode that night lived for all of 83 crowded years. Other sounds beyond the beat of horseshoof might well echo from the days of his life. This sound, for instance, the sound of a silversmith's hammer turning a handful of old coins into an object of beauty. Or this sound. We made this record of a church bell ringing in Boston just a few days back. And yet the bell itself was manufactured in 1816. That's 136 years ago by the man who once rode through every middle sex village and farm. And another sound. That's the fearsome tin made in the rolling mill of a modern manufacturing of copper and brass sheeting. One of 11 such mills operated today by a company founded more than 150 years ago by the midnight writer, Paul Revere. Listen, my children, and you shall hear more than the poet told. Sounds are all well enough, sounds alone, but we need more direct and articulate testimony. Suppose we could, by some magic, summon from their scattered resting places a few of the people who actually knew the writer. There was one gentle soul who knew him very well indeed. Are you there, Dr. Joseph Warren? Yes, I am Dr. Joseph Warren at your service, sir. And you will tell us what you know of Paul Revere? That I will, for I love the man. Indeed, my debt of gratitude to him extends quite literally beyond the grave. Oh, and how could that be? Near the slope of Bunker Hill, one sultry spring day long ago, a British musket ball put an end to all my mortal cares. After the battle, I was buried in a common, unmarked grave. But it is not a pleasant tale. Please go on, doctor. Well, when Boston was free again, my brother sought out my bones among all the rest. Only Paul Revere could give my brother certainty. You see, he had once carved for me two fine false teeth of ivory. This, he said, this was your brother and mine. Yes, he knew me well. And you knew him? Well, what was he like, doctor? A dark, stocky, sturdy figure of a man he was, a French blood with a Latin fire well concealed beneath our common New England coldness of demeanor. Mr. John Singleton Copley has painted him well with those strong craftsman's hands grasping a silver teapot. Strength, that's it. Strength was the keynote of his mind and his body. He was strong and utterly trustworthy. I remember one April evening in 75 when I called at his workshop on North Square. Well, good evening, doctor. Do come in. Good evening, Paul. Working late, I see. Well, it takes my mind from Boston's troubles, doctor. And master chambers must have this silver chain for his pet squirrel, even if Boston blows up on tomorrow. The explosion is not far off, my friend. Yes, I know. And you'll pardon me, doctor, but aren't you working late yourself? You think I should leave Boston? Sam Adams and John Hancock have gone. So has John Adams. And I saw Isaiah Thomas an hour ago. He's packing up his printing press to leave tonight. I'll stay on until I know for certain what the British intend. Paul, is it safe to talk here? Oh, yes, quite safe. Ike Clemens, my Tory engraver, he's left for his supper and I've sent the apprentices home. Paul, what is it? It's about Adams and Hancock. They've gone away, Paul, but not far enough. They're at the Clark Parsonage in Lexington. Yes, I know. Apparently, everyone knows, including General Gage. Paul, some definite move is afoot. At midnight, last night, all the small boats and the transports in the harbor were unshipped. The grenadiers and the light infantry have been taken off guard duty. Yes, I've been watching them myself. Now, we think they're going after Adams and Hancock in Lexington, and then our stores of war had conquered. Paul? Probably sometime during the next three days. Now, listen closely, Paul. Yes, Doctor. I want you to ride out tonight to Lexington and give the news to Hancock and Adams, then to Concord. All cannon and ammunition must be hidden deep in the swamps. On your way back, I want you to see Colonel William Conant in Charlestown. Colonel Conant, yes. Tell him that signal lanterns will be hung in a belfry of Christ's church if the British move is a warning. I see. One lantern if they march by land on the neck, two if they embark on the boats for Cambridge. One of by land, two of by sea. Yes. And who's to hang the lanterns? Young Bob Newman, the sexton. After you return this time, Paul, and when we know which it's to be, you'll give Newman the word, and then you'll ride again ahead of the British. Can you do it, Paul? Why, yes, of course, Doctor. Mr. Chambers' squirrel chain is all but finished, and I just assigned my name to this sugar bowl for John Copley. May I see the bowl? Yes, certainly. Thank you. Now, what a little jewel. Thank you. You know, Paul, when I look these days upon a thing of beauty, I find my eyes are hungry and something in my mind is saying, look well, Joseph Warren, you may never see this loveliness again. Now, Doctor, we'll all outlive this trouble. No, Paul, no. I've had my own warning lights. Well, when all of us are gone and forgotten, Paul, you at least will be remembered as an artist in silver. Throughout his long life, Paul Revere possessed a multitude of friends, and none of them ever hesitated to ask for favors. There was one who gave more than she received, his wife, Rachel Walker Revere. Are you there, Mistress Revere? Yes, I am. I am indeed. What do you wish, young man? Well, we'd like to know more about your husband, madam. That precious ride again. I suppose I'll never hear the end of it through all eternity. I'll tell you this. I tried to stop him. You tried to prevent your husband from... oh, but why, ma'am? What woman could wish her man to place a noose about his neck? Dr. Warren has told you that Paul was strong. He was. But I was strong, too. I had to be. I was his second wife, with six of poor Sarah Oren's children to look after, and one of my own on that April of 75. There were seven children then at the time? Sarah's eldest, Deborah, was 17. The youngest, my own Joshua, was 15 months old. Do you wonder I could see little use in desperate night rides? I understand. Oh, he was a good man, my Paul. But he was too competent. Among the lawyers and the dreamers and the wild riff-raff who called themselves Sons of Liberty, he was the one who could do things and do them right, all ship-shape and tidy. And a good advantage, perhaps? As things turned out, yes. But could I know that then? He came back from his first ride to Concord, the one nobody talks about, on the 16th of April, a Sunday. On the next Wednesday evening, Paul left the house in his workshop early. He didn't come back, and he didn't come back. Deborah and I were waiting up for him. Surely, ma'am, we'd best go to bed. He's no doubt gone to a meeting at the long room. The long room argument fires have long since talked themselves out of Boston. They've left, as Paul should do. No, I'll wait for him. Shall we have to leave town, Mother? I wish I knew. I wish I knew. If your father gets himself in more trouble, what was that? Just Toby Barking. To greet his master, I hope. Father, we... Well, Paul? Well, Rachel, it's come. The British are marching tonight? Yes. And you? I have my orders from Dr. Warren. From Sam Adams, you mean? He twists all of you around his fingers. Paul, I simply want to hear... Now, Rachel, please. Oh, Deborah, please let Toby in, and don't let him follow me when I go out again. Yes, Father. Paul, you're not leaving the house again tonight. I must, Rachel. Here, quiet, Toby, quiet, boy, quiet. Hey, that's it. Good job, good job. Paul, where are you going tonight? Uh, Deborah, would you take Toby into the kitchen and keep him there, please? Come along, Toby. Come along. Paul, I've asked you a question. Where are you going tonight? I'm ordered to ride again to Lexington ahead of the troops to warn the people. Ordered, ordered. By what right do they order you to do these things? They are my friends. Friends, indeed. They've used you, Paul. They've honored me with important work. They've used you, these high and mighty long room lawyers. They've used you because you're respected among the honest workmen here, because the workmen will follow you. I tell you, they are my friends, Rachel. Dr. Warren's the finest man I've ever known. And I'll not speak of our principles. No, let's not talk about liberty and free men's rights and such like sacred nonsense. Not with seven children in the house. Oh, Rachel. Oh, why must you always be the one to risk your neck, and you alone? No, not me alone. Billy Dawes is riding tonight. He goes the most dangerous way by land across the neck. Josh Bentley and Tom Richardson will row me over to Charlestown. Under the guns of the enemy fleet? Oh, no, Paul. We'll be quiet about it. Now, Rachel, you mustn't weep, please. We've gone over this so many times. They are my friends, Rachel. Yes, and I am your wife. Yes, I know. And it's a poor bargain you've made. It was too much for Sarah, heaven knows. I'll not complain of the bargain. See here, Rachel, if you say the word, I'll go to Warren and I'll tell him he must depend on Bill Dawes alone. You can win if you will. But think, Rachel, think first. Well? I'll not say the word, Paul. You'd hate me then as long as we should live. Ah, it's settled then. I knew your answer. Yes. It's an old answer among women folk. And I thank you for it. Well, I, uh, came to say goodbye. I'll say it now. No. Don't say anything. Just, just go now, Paul. Before I change my mind. They'll not catch me. They'll never catch me. Mother, he's gone. Yes, Deborah, your father is gone. But I meant Toby. He's gone, too. When he heard father go out, he pulled away from me and just bounded out the kitchen door. Never mind. He'll come back. I'll follow father. I, I heard you talking. I listened at the door. Well, child, at the market this morning, the story was everywhere. The British have posted men on the road to Lexington to stop, to stop a warning rider. Everybody knows about it. Then I expect your father knew it, too. It didn't stop him. But why? Why? Yes, my dear. Why didn't you stop him? You could have made him stay. Now he'll be killed. Why didn't you? Why? Because I love him. Some day, child, when you are married, you'll understand. I hope you will. It's Toby again. I'll let him in. Look, Mother, there's a note tied to his collar. Let me see. Come here, Toby. What does it say? My dear wife, you made me forget my spurs, his spurs. Please tie them to Toby's collar and let him loose. He'll find me ever yours, Paul. Oh, it's not like Paul to forget anything. Well, get your father's spurs, child. It was young floods and the moon was rising. So Paul Revere wrote in later years. Their oars were muffled in the flannel petticoat borrowed from Tom Richardson's sweetheart and still warm, said Paul, when they ripped it apart to bind the oars. Past HMS Somerset, with her 64 guns, they slipped. On the flood tide, with petticoat muffled oars. And so on to the Charlestown shore. Who's there? It's Revere. That you, Colonel Conant? Yes. Just a minute. You saw the signal, Linus? We did. So they're taking to the boats? Yes, we've not much time. You have the horse? Yes, just over here. Come along. Here. It's John Larkin's finest mount, Charlestown's best. She'll do. Well, I'll be off then. Good luck to you, Revere. I'll eat it. Easy, easy. Slowly at first to the town gates. And then... I'd want the cavalcade of America. Listen, my children. A radio portrait of the early American patriot, Paul Revere, starring Richard Widmark and featuring Sy Harris as our narrator. Paul Revere's long, useful life was just beginning at 40 years of age. When the Continental Congress needed someone to engrave and print paper currency, the Congress naturally turned to Revere. When Massachusetts needed a commander for the militia defending Boston, Revere accepted the thankless post. And when cannon were needed. But let us seek expert testimony on that point. Fortunately, there was an expert about at that time. Are you there, Colonel Ansart? And I am thirsting with words. Can you tell us more about Paul Revere? Ah, we. I have seen him at work. And I tell you there never was such a fellow for good hard work as this Bonhomme Revere. I am proud that his father, too, was French. And I am proud I could teach him a little. And I'll remember the morning he first called upon me. But that is a good day. You are, let me see. You're Louis de Mar-Gugel. Let me see that. There you are. They have misspelled my name even more violently than usual. I am Louis de Mar-Gugel. Oh. But here in your country, I'm known as Louis de Ansart. It comes more easily to the Yankee town. Well, and, Mr. Ansart, two things. First, I am to inspect the cannon you've made and get them off to Boston at once. Oh, yeah. And secondly, I am to learn how to make cannon myself. Oh, my name is Paul Revere. And I am delighted to know you, Mr. Revere. Thank you. You have had the experience then at the Thors, at the Foundry? Mr. Ansart, I've never turned out anything larger than a silver teapot. So I figure it may take me as long as, oh, say, two weeks to learn this new trick. Two weeks? Yes. Two weeks? You are mad. I, who was born to the earth. I, who was born and bred in the falls of France. Even I am still learning. I beg your pardon, sir. But nonetheless, I believe I can learn what's necessary in two weeks' time. You see, I know metals. Where is your forge? It's down at the river. All right, but let's go there at once. I want to get started now. And when the years of peace came, it was much the same. The Second Church needs a new bell. It's Paul who casts it by request, though nothing more musical than a cowbell has ever been made in Boston before. And still the beautiful silver pours from the little shop. The ornate Rococo of pre-revolutionary days gives way to the new simpler federal design. But Revere is still the master of silver. They are more and more children. Rachel, like Sarah, was mother to eight. The children grow up. There are many in-laws and grandchildren. The year is now 1800. There's a foundry for bell casting now, as well as a silversmith shop. And Paul has a partner in business, a sturdy young son, Joseph Warren Revere. Save for his wife. No one was closer to Paul Revere than this namesake of the doctor who died at Monker Hill. Are you there, Joseph Revere? Yes, I am here. I've not been gone so very long, sir. Not gone so long? No, you see, I lived a very long time. I was born in the days of revolution, but I lived to see the end of a civil war. I learned many things in my 91 years, most of them from my father. And one lesson stands out among the rest. It was evening as I remember at our home in Charter Street. My father had sent for me. Son, aren't you a little tired of bell making? I know, Father. Everything's going well. We have more orders than we can tell. Do you remember two years ago, I wrote to the secretary of the Navy, suggesting that we might be able to make copper sheathing for ships of war? And you'll receive no answer, thank heaven. Well, the answer has finally come. Oh. We're going to try it, Joseph. But we don't know how to make sheet copper. It's a secret process, a British secret, as you very well know. The USS Constitution will soon need new copper. Now, if things go on as they have been going, we'll not be able to get it from England. And does that concern Revere and son? It concerns Revere, and I hope it concerns any son of mine. I have been asked to make copper sheathing by my government. I shall make copper sheathing. But even if we knew how, we have no space, no room for great rolling mills. I've arranged to purchase a new site up at Canton on the Lynn at Canton Dave. Father, we haven't the money. You know we haven't the money. I know. I've arranged to borrow it. Why must it always be you who takes the risk? Now, Joseph. They'll use you, Father, just as they used you to print worthless money. They'll use you up and then forget to pay. Yes, I've heard those words before from your mother. They're true enough, perhaps. But son, well, I've always figured that I was sent here into this world to be used, as you put it, to be used up if necessary. I haven't done so badly thus far. That's just it. Everything's going along so well. You'd like to let well enough alone. Yes. Yes, I would. Well, that isn't the way things work, my boy. If this country is to be a great one, and it will be one day, that will happen because we refuse to let well enough alone. However, yes, Father. Well, you are my partner, Joseph. I've done nothing final without your consent. If you say the word, I'll refuse the risk. Well, son, I can't do that. I can't ask you to quit good now. Now, about this so-called British secret, it's my belief that it's no secret at all, no magic trick. It's the impurities in the copper that cause brittleness in the sheeting. Now, the trick lies in knowing how much heat to use and how to use it. But how can we find that out? By experiment, son, by doing it over and over, this way, that way, the other way, until we know how. The log of the USS Constitution, under the date of June 26th, 1803, reads, The Carpenters gave nine cheers, which was answered by the seamen and cockers, because they had in 14 days completed coppering the ship with copper made in the United States of America. Then toward the close of August in the fateful year 1812, a rider gallops up to the gates of the Canton Foundry, dismounts and calls. Joseph! Joseph, where are you, son? Coming, father. Well, you haven't been riding again. You know what the doctor said. To the devil with all doctors, I bring news, Joseph, wonderful news. The war is over? It's just begun, son. We've just begun to fight. Word reached Boston this morning. For the first time in this war, a British ship of the line has struck her flag and surrendered to an American attack. What? Yes, and it's our ship. It's our ship that won the Constitution. The Constitution beat the guerrilla. Listen, what's that? The bells of Boston, son. Our bells, most of them. The celebration started. Father, where are you going? You're not going to ride again. Of course I am, to spread the news, to tell the people why the bells are ringing. Thanks to Richard Widmark and the Cavalcade players for tonight's DuPont play. Listen, my children. Tonight's DuPont Cavalcade was written by George H. Faulkner. Original music was composed by Arden Cornwell, conducted by Donald Voorhees. The program was directed by John Zoller. With our star, Richard Widmark, you heard Cy Harris as the narrator. Mandel Kramer was Warren. Raleigh Vester was Rachel Revere. Rosemary Rice was Deborah. Dan Ockle was Ansar. George Petrie was Conant. And Jim Stevens was Young Revere. Richard Widmark appeared through the courtesy of 20th Century Faulk Studios and can currently be seen in that studio's production, My Pal Gus. Ladies and gentlemen, the DuPont Company is now bringing you Cavalcade of America on television. Watch Cavalcade tomorrow night over most of the NBC stations. Check your newspaper for local listings. The DuPont Cavalcade of America came to you tonight from the Velasco Theater in New York City and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Tonight, just for laughs, listen to Red Skelton on NBC.