 DuPont presents the Cavalcade of America. The stories you will hear this evening in the Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont transport you from the year 1738 to the present day, and this wide gap of the years serves to illustrate how long the trait of self-reliance has been identified with American men and women. If you wish to meet a self-reliant American, you need not seek far. Go to any farm, any community or city, go into America's homes or factories or offices, or go into the chemical laboratories like those of DuPont where American chemists are constantly exercising the quality of self-reliance to create better things for better living through chemistry. The Cavalcade Orchestra plays a special arrangement of two well-known spirituals. Nobody knows the trouble I've seen, and sometimes I feel like a motherless child. When this continent was settled, womanhood had few traditions of true partnership with men, of sharing an equal burden in a country's progress. Tonight, we bring you two stories of self-reliant womanhood, the history of Eliza Lucas, beautiful and spirited daughter of the South, whose family settled in the colony of Carolina in 1738. Colonel Lucas, an English officer, has brought his family from the West Indies to the American colonies to improve his wife's delicate health, but hardly have they arrived when trouble descends. In the library of the Lucas Plantation, Colonel Lucas and his wife wait tensely as their eldest daughter Eliza returns from a ball. Your mother and I are in the library, Eliza. I saw the lights as the carriage came up the drive. Mothered was the most delightful ball I ever attended. It's a court word and a waltz with Mr. Pinkney. Oh, you're pale, Mother. Have you been ill again tonight? No, no, Eliza, but we've had great news from London. Eliza, England and Spain are at war again. Oh, no. I can't believe the packet Nancy brought orders for your father's return to his regiment. Oh, you explained to Eliza George while I packed. Oh, Father, you can't go. I must go, child. What else can I do? But it may kill Mother, and you know you brought us to America solely to help her. Eliza, sit here by my desk, for we have but a short time for many decisions. Yes, Father. Tomorrow, Eliza, when I sail, you will become manager of this plantation. I? But it is unheard of. Why, I'm only a girl. Yes, but I had you educated like a boy. You know as much as I do about accounting and farming, and it's long been my boast that you'd ride at a five-barred gate before you'd sit down to embroider. But besides being a girl, I am quite young, sir. Yes, that's true. Eighteen. And if I had trouble, to whom would I turn for help? To yourself, child. There will be heavy problems to deal with. The lands are so mortgage that you may not be able to save them. But you will learn to meet troubles as they come. I'm sure of you, Eliza. I would, I was sure, but... Think quietly, Eliza. Now, suppose you were a man and 35. Yes. What would you do to save this plantation? A bold stroke is needed. Why? Why, I should plant indigo. Indigo? Why? Well, look at the wealth it's brought for the East Indies. And England has no colonies that ship her indigo. Aye, but that's a far-fetched scheme. Why, Father? A planter could be bought from the East Indies and a delicate seed could be shipped here, too. They say that Caroline Azuccio depends on her finding a good export. That's true enough. Well, you may plant your indigo, Eliza. Maybe you can do something with it. Thank you, Father. If you're brave enough to leave, I ought to be brave enough to remain here. And I'll take care of Mother and Polly and our land. We'll be here when you come back. Eliza Lucas at 18 took up her duties as plantation manager. She spent her days directing the work on her father's land and her evenings teaching her young sister Polly and cheering her full-on mother. From the East Indies, she obtained indigo seeds and began her great experiment. Two years later, Eliza rides over to an indigo field on the Lucas Plantation where Smith, the head planter, is busily engaged. Whoa, whoa, there. I heard some insane rumor that you were going to burn the indigo. Now, ma'am... Wait, I'll dismount. Now, sir, a straight answer. Where are you or where are you not going to burn it? Miss Eliza, I've tried to tell you that the indigo is ruined. Well, good heavens, Smith. I can see that for myself, but there's still the seed. Well, you're surely not thinking of planting it a third year, Miss Eliza. Smith, I sent for you clear to the East Indies to help me. And yet, in our two years together, you've done nothing but bark and fork me. I have not met mischief, ma'am. I thought you were wasteful enough. You understand the culture of indigo. Don't you try to believe that my attempt to adapt it to this climate has some value? Can't you appreciate that I wouldn't give my strength and my labor, my every waking thought to my project if it were just the idle whim of an idle girl? Please, Smith. Aye, ma'am. Now I see what you mean. I used to feel that way about plants myself when I was younger. Hey, Sam. Why, what's he doing? He's fired the brush. Oh, wait, Miss, don't do the fire. Sam, Sam, put that out. Put that out. I'll help you. Here, wait. Oh, don't let it reach my plants. Oh, stamp on it, Sam, right here. Oh, get it out here. Oh, I'm getting it out here. Oh, my shawl. Wait a minute. I can beat it out with that, too. It nearly reached the indigo field. Oh, oh, Sam. But I think that's safe now, Sam. Mr. Salazar? Never take such a risk again. Then don't disobey my orders again. Oh, no, Miss. You're a brave girl. You're near put a man to shame. Another year passed, and again the indigo failed. But Eliza had determined now to win success with it, and she carefully gathered the seeds. One day in the fields, she talks to her planter, Smith. We'll plow up this field tomorrow, Smith. Get it ready for next season's planning. Aye, Miss. Is not that Mr. Charles Pinkney of Belmont riding up our lane? Why, yes, so it is. I'll see what he wants, and you can do things here. Aye, Miss. Aye, Mr. Pinkney. Ah, good day to you, Miss Lewis. Good day, sir. I knew I should find you in the field. Easy boy now, easy. I've brought the books our lawyer wrote me for. Oh, thank you. Why, a young lady should want to read law. Well, I have many poor neighbors who can't afford lawyers there. When they're on their deathbeds, they wish to make their wills. It may be that I can do help to them. I'm glad you see your neighbors. In Charlestown, you become a legend. Miss Lewis, on her own estate, she had raised an indigo crop. Oh, you laugh at me, sir. I would gladly go to dances if it were not that a day in the field tires me so. How does your crop this year? Well, it's not yet fit for marketing. So I shall turn it to seed again. That's next year. Miss Lucas, it's not my right, but I must tell you something, as you hear it coldly from a stranger. It's bad news. Well, what is it, sir? Those creditors. They cannot be held off much longer. Oh. I see. Will they take the land this year? It's not decided. They might let you live here for some months yet, harvesting final crops. Oh, my dear child, don't look so. There's not a man in the colony who's not admired your gallant fight. Father, father will be so disappointed. Oh, not when he hears of your courage. You couldn't prevent it, Eliza. Mr. Pinckney, have you ever been interested in planting indigo at Belmont? I've watched your experiments with interest, but the seed costs too much to import. I'll give you the seed if you'll plant it. Well, I don't want you to give it to me. Indigo seed is expensive. Five guineas a bushel in London. No matter. Father would want me to do this. I know. You'll call a meeting of the neighboring planted and offer them my indigo seed, for its culture must be continued. Then why I think this plant will be of value to Carolina? You're a generous person, Eliza. Oh, Mr. Pinckney, don't tell Mother and Polly that you fear we're bankrupt. I'll not burden them with that knowledge until I must. Pfizer felt that she had failed in her duty to her father. But word came that he would soon return to America. And she carefully put all to rights on the plantation, that he might see she had done her best. A few weeks later, as she returns from the field, her mother meets her in the garden. Eliza! Oh, yes, Mother. Oh, nothing's the matter, is it? Oh, it's excitement, dear. Word from your father. Mr. Pinckney, just brought it. He's in the parlor. I came to tell you. Does Father return, dear? He's not coming. Not coming? The king has appointed him governor of Antigua. We are to leave at once. We are to leave America? Eliza, dear, I feared this news would not be wholly welcome. You've grown closer to America than the rest of us. Yes, I... I can't imagine leaving it. Even to see your father again? Oh, yes. I want to see Father, but... Well, that too will be sad, for I must need to explain my failure. He's nonsense, Eliza. There's talk that the king will grant special bounties to all those growing indigo in this colony. So your failure is Carolina's new prosperity. Eliza, are you sure there's no special attraction for you in this place? Have you never thought of a husband? Well, it's inevitable I should think of one. But I've had no time... It seems one suitor has sought you out in the midst of your indigo growing. Mother. Eliza, Charles Pinkney has bespoken my permission to ask your hand in marriage. Marriage? Marriage, Charles Pinkney. Sometimes, think, Charles, you care so much for plants and flowers that you have not thought of people. I don't think at all right now. I know not how you regard him. Far fear your years of slaving have left you without a spark of romance. Romance, Mother. Oh, my feeling for Charles Pinkney is more than that. It's part of all I feel for Carolina. Then go to him, Eliza. He is at the house. You... you belong to him. And to America. Yes, Mother. I think I do. Eliza Lucas married Charles Pinkney and became, indeed, a blessing to her country. She grew hemp and flax and studied ways to make progress in cotton and wool weaving. As the mother of Charles and Thomas Pinkney, she inputs them in the course that made them leaders in the American Revolution. When she died, after a long and useful life, George Washington requested the honor of being a Hallburner, thus paying his tribute to an outstanding woman of colonial times. The fate of America presented by Dupont moves on. We bring you a modern story of a young woman similar to thousands of her sisters in unfaltering independent spirit. The names in this story are fictitious, but the facts are true. In a country school room in Colorado on a snowy morning, we find the teacher Helen Maitland and one of her pupils, young Bill Benson. Miss Maitland, I'm back. We'd like to kick the straw out of the booth. All right. Did you call your father? Yes, him. He's outside with the bus right now. Good thing, too. Snow's getting deep. That's what I was afraid of. I don't like just missing classes at noon, but I'll feel easier when the children are home. Maybe I'd better see if they're getting into their coat. Yes, and they are. I looked in the cloakroom. Well, tell the children then to go out. Will you, Bill? I'll bring these new clothes. Yes. Miss Maitland, I can't get my rubber on. Well, let's see, nanny. These aren't the right rubbers. That's the reason. They look like beddies. Miss Maitland, can I sit besides with the bus today? Betty, is this your rubber? Yes, it is. Well, here, put it on, child, and give nanny hers. Wrap your scarf around tightly. Are you ready now? Oh, they're too heavy, nanny. You open the door. Yes, ma'am. Yes, someday, Miss Maitland. Isn't it awful, Mr. Benson? All right, children, get in the bus. Can you get up the step, nanny? Yes, ma'am. Betty, you and nanny go back in the bus. Hello, Mr. Benson. Yeah, it's a good idea. Help me watch the road. You all sit back there now? Don't like this. You can't see a cinch. Yeah, it's a good thing you sent for me, Miss Maitland. I guess I never would have thought myself was coming around by noon. And we got a hard drive ahead. Dripped deep in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, and cars braving the storms face a real struggle. 40 minutes later, as the school blows into a bad drift, it sounds like something broke. Are we stuck? Yeah, we'll see. You mind if I get out that door on your side, Miss Maitland? Take a look at the right front wheel. I'll get off, too. Jesus, kids, maybe we're stuck. Can you see what's happened, Mr. Benson? Yeah, sure can. We jammed right up against the low boulder and broke the front wheel. Oh, heavens, what can we do? Well, man, let's see. Cleave's place is two miles down the road, Stevenson's. No, no, Cleave's is nearest. Yeah, I'll have to walk there, Miss Maitland, and get help. Walk in the storm? Yeah, it's not going to be easy. But, uh, do you know what you'll be up against when you're left here with the kids? Yes, I know. When it's a question of last and something out, Miss Maitland, everything depends on the cool head. I'll try to keep one. My boy's in this bus, Miss Maitland, and all my neighbor's kids. So I'm going to get down this road and get back again. Listen, it's getting colder, so don't let them sit still. Turn the motor on now and then to keep them warm. I put a lot of faith in you, Miss Maitland. I'll get back as soon as I can. Good luck. Children! Where's Dad gone? He's going to get another car to take us home. Can't we go home right now, Miss Maitland? I'm cold. We won't be cold if we move about. We'll stay because we're going to have a game. Yes, ma'am. You two are monitors. You watch to see that no one runs out of sight in the snow. Not even for a moment. You keep circling around us. Now, everyone else is going to play tag. A fast game in a small circle. Yeah, tag! So beautiful that its dangers are hard to realize. But Helen Maitland, used to thinking ahead, knows what the storm may mean for her young charges. She watches their play closely, coaxes them to keep active and not worry. But the cold grows sharper. And an hour later... Nanny, why are you sitting on the ground? Get up, child! Get up, dear. We'll walk around till you feel better. Nanny. Is Nanny sick? She's only tired, Betty. Give me a handful of snow. Say, is Nanny fainted, Miss Maitland? Can I help you? Stop her again, Bill. You go and play with the others, dear. I want to... I want to go to sleep, too. I won't play tag. Oh, Betty, dear. Please, mind me. Go join the game. Nanny, I'm going to pick you up and take you out of the boat. Don't cry, please. I'll help you lift her, Miss Maitland. No, I have her. Bill, you get the bottle of milk. Listen, Dick, please, lunch bath. Can he never drink that? Hold open the door for me first. Why, right here on the seat? It's better for you to be cold. I'm going to have to slap your cheeks and hands. Here's the milk, Miss Maitland. What's happened outside? Hey, it looks like Dick's trying to help Betty into the bus. Gosh, she's sick, too. Come here, Dick. Betty, now lie here. Don't cry. We'll take care of you. Dick, wait. You and Bill are my helpers now. Go outside and start a game. Don't even get too tired. Bring them in as quietly as you can. And don't frighten us. We'll do the best we can. Come on, Dick. Put your arms around Betty and lie close together. I'll give you my coat. All suddenly and early in western winters, into the stranded bus the children gradually huddled, trying to imitate the courage of their young leader. But two hours pass. Three hours. At seven that evening. See, Miss Maitland, we must be getting awful cold, no coat. This suit is heavy, Bill. Nanny needs the coat. She isn't crying anymore, is she? No. What's that? The motor's stopped. We're out of gas. It'll be soon, don't you worry. Children, you're much too quiet. Come on, now let's tell stories. I can't figure out what could have happened to Dad. Don't worry, Bill, he'll come. Listen. Shut up, you dummy. Every time you say that, you get everybody excited. I do hear voices. I bet you I do. Maybe he does, Bill. Flash the headlights. Don't get excited, children. Maybe they haven't come yet, but they will. We've just got to be brave until we get home. Miss Maitland, are the children all right? Nanny's bad. Take her quickly. She'll go on the first sled. How's my father? He got through, Bill. One across bit in hand, but they think it's all right. Now, kids, come on, pile out, and the men will take you to the bobsled. We are men. Miss Maitland, put her coat on, Mr. Ross. Miss Maitland, what's the matter? I'm all right. I can't seem to move. Well, you're not going to faint now. It's relief, that's all. I don't want to go to pieces now. Wouldn't that be silly? When the motor stopped, I thought my heart had stopped too. I don't think that heart of yours stopped at any point, Miss Maitland. And there's a lot of mothers in this neighborhood who'll never quit thanking you for it. To Helen Maitland and to the men who helped her can be credited the lives of ten children. This tale of simple heroism in modern life is a tribute to the independence and self-reliance of men and women in the cavalcade of America. Many of our listeners may be familiar with the indigo plant because until about 1890, it was the only source of an important and valuable dye, indigo. Then the chemist discovered how to make this well-known blue dye stuff in the laboratory. Even before that time, however, America had ceased to be an important factor in the growing of the indigo plant because other crops such as cotton were found to pay better. Today, chemically made indigo is so much better and lower in cost that cultivation of the plants for dye is carried on to a very small extent, mostly in Bengal, India. The development of dyes has been one of the great achievements of chemistry and don't think for a minute that it stopped with the discovery of indigo. Research in DuPont laboratories is constantly being carried on to improve dye stuff and to develop new ones. The chemist has created a veritable rainbow of colors for the use and enjoyment of everyone. Today, you can obtain dyed or printed goods in a great variety of attractive designs which will hold their colors through repeated washing. One of the greatest contributions that chemists have made to color fastness is a class of dye stuff known as vat colors. These are the fastest colors known. Makers of shirting materials were among the first to recognize the advantage of using these vat dyes so the men in our radio audience should be quite as interested as the women. Colored shirts are growing in popularity every year. For the use of DuPont vat dyes makes it possible to produce shirt fabrics that keep their colors throughout the life of the garment. Many housewives when shopping ask for fabrics that are vat dyed because they've learned that such colors last as long as the fabrics. DuPont chemists have played an important part in creating and producing American dye stuff. Their work in this direction is one of the many ways in which DuPont fulfills their pledge. Better things for better living through chemistry. The artistic impulse, interesting dramatic episodes about famous American painters will be heard next week at the same time when DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America with the Columbia Broadcasting System. The UABC, New York.