 The Cavalcade of America, presented by Dupont. The destinies of people rise and fall in current and historic parallels. This happened in America, and it's the story of our cavalcade tonight. The story of a mighty confederation of Iroquois Indians, who became known as the League of the Longhouse because of their place of meeting. The hand of the Longhouse was heavy, and its arm was long. But from Europe came the white man with visions of empire, and through circumstance and greed, a people was broken, and the Longhouse vanished into history. And the Overture, Don Voorhees, and the Dupont cavalcade orchestra play the beautiful Pale Moon. The great Indian chieftain Logan. It is a farewell. Logan's arms are folded, his face impassive. In the soft glow of the candelabra on the desk of his conqueror, Lord Dunmore of Great Britain. Through the six nights which darkens the history of our subjugation, through all the degradation and reproach which has been heaped upon us, there runs one thread of light revealing our former greatness, fleeting the causes of our decay, illuminating the pits of our downfalls, promising that our death shall live again. Not in the endless darkness sees that thread of light to be lost, but from the shadow we pass, it shall break out in brilliance, redeeming the people's downfalls, and ringing from you our subjugators, the greeting brother. In Logan's mind is the memory of the Conwayta and Hiawatha, forming the consideration of his people. A union of elective delegates to a common council, a representative democracy of the vast league of the Longhouse. Both Mohawk, so-nighters, so-and-a-darkers, sannikers, and kayugas. A union from the St. Lawrence River to the Southern Carolinas, westward to the Mississippi. Our story of the fall of the Longhouse begins one day in 1609, when lurking among the trees on the shore of the lake that bears his name, waited the French explorer Champlain and his expedition, including some Algonquin scouts. They're coming down the beach now. Mohawk dogs coming to talk, huh? What have the Mohawks to say to me? Remember, Monsieur, they belong to the Iroquois Confederation. The France must choose amongst savages we'll cast our lot against the Confederation. This is our chance to win an alliance with the Algonquins. They are fine-looking Indians, much bigger and stronger than our Algonquin guide, true. But they do not know guns. One shot to the silver. Pascal, what shall the chiefs? Three with furrows, brother. They are leading the delegation with you. Yes, it's simple. Give me that musket, John. My brother has seen feathers fall from a bird he has killed. Yes, I have seen. Then watch. The report of the Frenchman's musket re-echoed through the serenity of the wilderness. But it rang beyond the shores of Lake Champlain. It was an explosion that rocked the destinies of people. From that hour, the Mohawks and their fellow nations in the League of the Longhouse were the mortal enemies of France during the years of European aggression in America. The Confederation anxiously made treaties and trusted the invading foreign powers in the interest of peace. First with the Dutch, then with the English. The League of the Longhouse has been moved as a pawn on the chessboard of American colonization by international strategists from the courts of Europe. For at this very time, on the heights of Quebec, greedily looking down toward the English colony of New York, is Britain's ancient enemy, France. And one evening, the French governor of Canada, the Marquis de Norville, calls his advisor into his study. Our next move, Champigny, is to seize New York. We will split the British colony of New England from those in the south. We will crush the Longhouse Confederation in the bargain. We can't do nothing, Monsieur le Governor, unless we have more troops. Ah, more troops? I asked His Majesty for 800, he sent me three. No, you must do with what we have. I have a plan. Good, good, tell me. We will take New York with only the troops we have already in Canada, aided by two ships of war. Impossible. Wait. I will send a thousand regulars and 600 militia to take Albany. Then they will descend the Hudson to New York and take that. The two ships will enter the harbor and aid in the attack. The whole matter can be accomplished in one month. It is magnificent if we can do it. But what would be the fate of the people we conquer, Monsieur? We will spare only those who take an oath of allegiance to France. That is massive. Too massacred. But all officers and other persons who have means of paying ransom will be thrown into prison and held there until their ransom is paid. Very reasonable. And what next? All lands of the colony except those owned by persons who swear allegiance must be seized and granted in feudal tenure to French officers. Excellent. All property, public and private is to be divided among grantees of the land. The rest sold for the king. That will please His Majesty. Do you have thought of everything, Monsieur? I haven't finished. Mechanics and all other workmen will be held at the discretion of the commanding officer to work on new fortifications. Ah, that is essential. I think so. The rest of the inhabitants, Dutch and English men, women and children, are to be deported out of the colony and dispersed so they can never again combine together. That will be a good lesson and a warning. Precisely. And that our conquest of New York may be completely secure. I think we should incite the neighbouring settlements of New England to insurrection. But they might come into our New York colony later. And what about the Longhouse, Monsieur LeGovain? As I said, we will crush it. But will the king approve? Monsieur, he has already done so. Through mysterious channels, the plan of Renonville reached the Council of the Indian Chief at the League of Belong House. And on the night of the 5th of August, 1689, a violent hail storm burst near Montreal. 1,200 Indian warriors, fired by their hatred of the French, turned the plan into an empty farm. Renonville then relinquished his chair at this chess table of colonial empire to the Cont de Frontenac. They gained franchise in New York. But this time the plan was different. It was launched against the Dutch and the English. And one day, insconnected, one of the leading burgers in the settlement, Alexander Glenn, is approached by an old Mohawk woman. Man here, Glenn. Yes, what is it? Friends are coming. What? My people say to warn friends. Friends coming. Mohawk friends to Dutch. You go to the house of the Dominic, the minister, the man who talks. Say that the French are coming to attack us. That we need help. Yes. Good. Deliver that message. Yes. Yes, I go. That afternoon, the Dominic was away from home when the old Mohawk woman stood before his door. Who's there? Come in. Well, what do you want here? I come from here, Glenn, with metal. Ah, out upon you. Your cat's no all over my clean floor. You yourself are dirty like all Mohawks. Go away. Mohawks are friends to Dutch. Indian friends to all who want peace. Go away. I have what to do. I have a message. I kill not for your message. Go away. Down through the valleys of up in New York state, march the columns of the French army. Again, the longhouse warms the Burgers of Schenectady, and in a tavern late one night. All this talk about French war party in midwinter in February, and it's snowing. At least we can stand guard. Tonight, of all nights, when there's a wedding, music and dancing, and you talk of standing guard. What about surprise? You think that old fox front and I care for a little wind and snow? You may not, but I do. There are 20 Mohawks in the town tonight. They are protection. Against the French army? We ought to help. Post a guard. Very well then. I have an idea. What is it? We will make a great snowman, one for each gate of a stocking, and leave them to a sentry, sir. A neighbors? A snowman guard. What do you say? Aye, snowmen are good enough to scare the French away. You see, we will give you all the guard you need. Two snowmen. Good idea. Good idea. That's all we need. Closer and closer to his connectivity, grep the army of France. The night was white, but driving snow. Finally, the stockade looms through the whirling gusts of the blizzard, and the French officer holds up his hand. Now either we take this shabby little town or die at its gates. Have the scouts reported yet? Sir, I report. Well, we will not die at its gates, sir. Take my word for it. What do you mean? You know what the Dutch have done? They've made two great men of snow. I thought they were ghosts. They were placed at the front of the gates. I think they are mad. Sir, I'm more likely drunk. It is unguarded. Yes, sir. Good. We will enter and entirely encircle the stockade from the inside, and then, and then at the signal, kill. Indus connectivity that night swarmed the army of France overpowering the settlement. Connected to his burn, the French moved on. Whatever faithful to the alliance with the English and the Dutch, the chiefsons and the council of the League of the Long House gathered near the city to perform with the survivors of connectivity the right of condolence. It was springtime now, and the voice of the chief station of the onondoggers rose over a huddle of weary people gathered under the soaring trees of the forest. Brothers, the murder of our friends, the white men of connectivity, grieves us greatly. As much as it had been done to ourselves, far with you, we are united. The French have not acted like brave men, but like thieves with hearts of darkness. Be not discouraged. We give you this belt to wipe away your tears. Five moons ago, the French sent messengers with the white flag in their hands and talk of peace upon their lips. But their thoughts were thoughts of war. So it was they acted with deceit. But these French, these district rakers of liberty and peace must perish. White brothers, we shall have revenge. Once more, the French invasion failed. Pledged as allies of the Dutch and English, the League of the Long House struck a defensive blow at the aggressors and routed them again. But while peace was restored, the European schemes of empire went on. As the decades passed, the chessboard of colonial domination was cleared of all pieces, except the French and English kings and the pawns. That was the League of the Long House. Finally it stood beside the British kings. Then to the new world came William Johnson, who had been appointed superintendent of Northern Indian Affairs and whose orders were to drive the French out of America. Gentlemen, I propose to send out two detachments of 500 men each and catch the French between them. Well, isn't it poor policy to divide one's forces, sir? Perhaps. What for you, Hendrik? Brother, I take this stick and break it. See, it breaks easily. Now I take this handful of stick sent. I cannot break them. Singly, we may be broken. Then I will form the two detachments into one of a thousand men. Hendrik, will you take your Long House warriors with my British troops? Brother, I am old and I am fat, but my ears can still hear the war cry. I will go where you order. Good. I will keep a thousand men here to hold the barricade. Colonel Williams, you will lead the advance. Yes, sir. Brother, you must give me a horse. Age and flesh do not permit me to march on foot with my young warrior. Take my own horse, brother. With the invaluable assistance of the tribes of the Long House Confederations, the English began the struggle that was to end in 1763 with the collapse of French power in North America and leave the Empire of Great Britain ruling the American colonies. The French king was removed from the chess board, leaving the British king alone with its pawn, the League of the Long House. The tribes returned peacefully to their campfires, but the game was not yet over. There was long done more with the might and authority of Great Britain behind him that he speaks to his agitants one night in 1774. It's merely a matter of colonization. We must end our own colonists over to that section of Virginia if we're to hold the colony for the crown. But isn't that land reserved for the Mingo Indians? It might make trouble, sir. We'll have to bear it. But we've got to have that territory. The Mingo's belong to the Long House Confederation. You're thinking of our treaty with them, huh? Well, so have I. But I'm also thinking of England. There are other lands the Mingo's can move to. Let their chief, Logan, take them out west. Do you realize, sir, that if we take their land, if we break our treaty, it means a frontier war? It means more than that. It means the end of the Long House. Here in the America of 1774 began the downfall of the race. On the one hand, the Confederation of five Indian nations, the League of the Long House. On the other, the Empire of Great Britain. Then only a few months later, William Johnson, the helpless friend of the Long House, sits with his secretary in his study at Johnson Hall, worrying over the situation in the colony of Virginia. I wish I knew what was happening, butler. For this fool's done more sending colonists to lands that belong to the Long House. Well, if a frontier war comes, those stiff-necked colonists will bear the brunt. If they should whip the Long House to it, there is such a thing as honor. Or there was. The colonists, as you call them, are my countrymen. I am a colonist. The people of the Long House are my brothers. You asked me to contemplate a war between these two with equanimity. I can't do that. I spent my life dealing with the Long House. They trusted England completely. Well, your news may be already here, sir. See who it is, is it, sir? Yes, Grounds, yes. It's war, sir. Our treaty with the Long House is broken. It's the end. And the Chief Logan captured, sir. Colonists and Virginia killed his whole family. That was necessary, I suppose. Well, you'll have to ask Lord Dunmore, sir. But Logan, is Logan still alive? Yes, sir. I saw him. They brought Logan before Lord Dunmore. He drew his blanket from his face slowly. It was as if he was speaking for all his race. He folded his arms and looked at Lord Dunmore for a long time. Death darkens my lodge. All doors closed as sun and moon stars. Death darkens my lodge. All within lie dead. Logan is alone. He too is blind. Like the quiet dead, his ears are stopped. He hears not. He cannot see darkness or light. For Logan, light or darkness comes too late. I appeal to any white man if he ever entered Logan's lodge hungry and he gave him not meat. If he ever came cold and naked and he clothed him not. Such was my love. Such was my great love for the white man. My brothers pointed at me as they passed and said, he is the friend of the white men. And I had even thought to live among you, but for the injuries of my brothers of white men. Unprovoked in cold blood, they slain my kin. All. All. Not bearing woman or child. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. I have withstood the storms of many winters. Leaves and branches have been stripped from me. My eyes are dim. My limbs taut. I must soon fall. I who could make the dry leaf turn green again. I who could take the rattlesnake in my palm. I who had communion with the dead, dreaming and waking. I am powerless. The wind blows hard. The old tree trembles. Its branches are gone. Its sap is frozen. It bends. It falls. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one. Not one. The big of the long house. The five nations. Mohawk, so-nighters, Donondaga, Seneca's and Cayuga's. The great pre-revolutionary confederacy of American Indians in the new world, but trade and broken by the greed and treachery of the old. The pawn fell from the chess game. But in 1776 the last piece, the British King, was spun from the table and freedom ruled the chess board. And although the league of the long house has vanished, its history of 200 years of faith in representative democracy in our native wilderness grows through the years as a beacon and a prophecy in the America of today. And now here's Battle Rise Day by the American Company and bringing us another story from the wonder world of chemistry. In preparing tonight's story, I started to make a list of the uses for rubber. Tires, rubber boots, rubber bands. But I soon found that I'd never finish. Men who know, tell me there are more than 30,000 uses. No wonder rubber is regarded as one of the world's most important raw materials. And here are a couple of facts to make you stop and think. Number one, the United States is the world's largest user of rubber. Number two, all of the natural rubber we use imported from foreign land. 99% of it from the far east, thousands of miles away. That's the bad spot the nation was in until just a few years ago when DuPont Research Chemists discovered how to make a product like rubber in the laboratory. Out of materials we have an abundance right here at home. Out of limestone, coal and salt. From this curious combination of raw materials, they first make a settling gas. And then by a complicated chemical process, they obtain the product called neoprene, actually better than nature's rubber in some way. But what is equally important, this scientific victory insures America against fancy prices for rubber, a commodity almost entirely controlled by foreign producers. You can bet your rubber boots that foreign prices will never go above the neoprene price. No matter if they do, American chemists know how to make a material that can be used in place of rubber. Meanwhile, neoprene is giving wide and valuable service today because of its peculiar properties. Thousands of products for all sorts of purposes were made of neoprene in 1938, mainly because natural rubber could not serve as satisfactorily. Unlike ordinary rubber, neoprene has great resistance to oil and grease, acids, heat and sunlight. It lives longer, retains its useful qualities under conditions that quickly destroy natural rubber. For these reasons, almost every industry is finding uses for neoprene. In the automobile industry alone, it is being used in over 50 different ways. Yes, the story of neoprene deserves a forward headline. Science improves on nature. Neoprene, an outstanding achievement of chemical research, and a fine example of the DuPont pledge, better things for better living and for better living through chemistry. Next week, the Cavalcade of America tells the story of a pioneer mother's courage and determination in crossing the western frontier in a lonely prairie schooner wagon with a family of six children. The story of Eliza and Brooks. So until next week then, at the same time, Mrs. Thomas Chalmers saying good night and best wishes in DuPont. On tonight's program, Logan's speech was given by special permission of Samuel Goldman, owner of the film rights of Robert W. Chambers' novel, Cardigan. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.