 The Dupont Company presents the Cavalterade of America. With radio's distinguished commentator speaking for the Dupont Company, Gabriel Heter. Good evening everyone. Mention a figure in history to 10 people and nine you'll find will be quick to classify them. One will say why he was a tyrant and one will say no he was a patriot. A division of opinion which makes turning back pages in the book of time a fascinating adventure and more because by turning back to read of days gone down a corridor of time we learn to measure our own time and even to see what future years may hold. Best of all turning back makes it possible to recapture colorful and compelling figures. Say a man like Peter Stuyvesant. Not many of us I suppose Peter Stuyvesant was a cranky gentleman. He hobbled around on a wooden leg, quarrelsome, meddlesome, trying to run old new amps to them according to his own ideas. But before we tell you his story, let's hear Don Voorhees and the Dupont Cavalterade Orchestra play this can't be love from the musical success The Boys from Syracuse. One gentleman, the narrator and chronicler of the Cavalcade of America, Thomas Thomas. Tonight we go back to the year 1647. The scene of straggling village on a tip end of Manhattan Island. A disorderly settlement of Dutch perpetrators, trappers in mangy fur caps, Indian smelling of wood smoke, sailors, town loafers, English adventurers, soldiers in townish school late, women and children. A cluster of houses around the fort that looked about ready to fall down, miles of forest in back and just this toehold that the Dutch West India Company had on the edge of a continent. A troublesome little colony this new Netherlands and the home government in Holland had been looking around for a man to handle this situation. We are men in a free colony and Peter Stuyvesant will come to know it. He is no one to order me around. Man or wooden-legged tyrant, he will learn when he comes. Today he's going to make you close your tavern on time now. No more peddling firewater to the Redskins with old pegleg Peter watching you mark firework. He has a big beak of a nose like a bugger and a wooden stump of a leg and you know what he does to bad little boys who keep their system. He carries them up at night with dark dungeon and he's a big leg Peter. He's not going to march me around like he did those soldiers when he was fighting the Portuguese down in St. Martin's Island. You will find that we have minds of our own here. We will tell that to pegleg Giverty. New director general, warring people, I am chief director for my governor. As we are here to welcome you in behalf of the citizens of this colony of New Netherland, in behalf of the great and glorious pre-Duck's Republic, the noble western via company and the high mightinesses via state general of Holland. Yes, yes, yes, a long way off those of state general and their high mightinesses. We will talk about that another time. Why is that famine being fired in your honor, Excellency? A waste of good gunpowder, my friend. We will save it for our enemies. Are you new soldier there? Stands great man. You're a soldier, not a civilian peddler. Yeah, that's right. Excellent pay to me. Yes, Excellency. That's better. Make something out of you yet. Master Chief, I have no comfort speeches and cannon firing. I find many things wrong with your colony. I see your disorder, laziness, everything in ruin, every man a master. We shall clean up all this, go to work and hold this spot for God and the company. I shall govern as a father, govern as children. But there shall be but one master. Too much dirt, too much talk, too many taverns. We cannot work and drink not two. That we shall see to first. Yeah, who is this slave diver who's going to make that clothes and hat? Arrest that man, Excellency. He has a knife. Who is this wooden leg that tells free citizens... Pick him up. Just as such are my sword-heels on his thick head. They're you there, soldier and you. They hold and put that troublemaker in the stock. Now, we've had enough talk. Tomorrow we start rebuilding that fort. Clean up this place. Yeah, you soldiers, promise. Clear these good people off the wharf. But... Don't be a fool, man. It'll take only a few bottles of fire water. The Redskins will meet us up the river. We get on the groggs. We get their pelts. And we sell the pelts, no? No. Old peg leg pizza catches us. We put us in stock. Don't go in. Not yet, Clancy. We can go over to the green and... No, it's time. No one may stay out of the pursuit. But... I know. We shall hide behind the big tree. Please. Don't put us down in the closet, so... Well, look, quick. We'll throw the watch down. One more. Throw it all in another packet of snob. No. No more than that. Come. Come, man. We're still searching. I say no. I closed the cabin. Peter Stiverson ordered. You can fix your old Peter Stiverson stomping around the town with his silver-headed gains, ready to crack down on any lazy worker, and putting his shoulder to the wheel himself when he had to. They lasted old peg legs, some of them behind his back, and he was cordially hated by others. But somehow he got things done. A bit headstrong and arbitrary, perhaps, but beneath that tough old hide was a fighting spirit and a firm belief in the future of New Netherlands. He fought with his council for what he considered his right, to run things his own way. But he was just as ready to fight the Indians or the English, or anyone else that threatened his colony, which, in the depths of his fighting heart, he had grown to love. At the age of 63, Romantic wooden leg and all, he led an expedition against the Swedish colony on the Delaware. But he hadn't been gone long before war cries downed us through the forest, and the Indian tribe threatened New Amsterdam. Alarm, Samba. The villagers ran down Bowling Green, but old Peter was away. Panic on Bowling Green. Terrified colonists prowled into town, mingling with the villagers. Indians in the woods, north of the wall, thousands of them, sick as blackberries. They killed Van Dyke. Look at him farm his car, all his family. A boat just drifted by on the river. A man and a woman. Where is the powder? Someone said we should hold the force. Give him a thing, somebody. He would know where the powder is. Yeah, one of you, I guess. My name is a palisade. Is anyone telling me what's going on? Only they had divers in here. They sent a message yesterday. He got through the rescues. Look, that's a geese. That's how the geese are hiding. Coming to the water gate. Help them to help us if they've taken the palisade. Here are the four or two people. There are thousands of them. We'll be burned. We'll be short. We have the ships, are we? We can escape this ship. They're coming. They're coming. Out of the way. One of you, out of the way. Before I ride this horse over here. Hurry, hurry, they're coming. There's somebody in the back of the car. Look at the leaves. Where are you, miss? Wait. Everybody stop that noise. Can't you hear it? Listen, everybody. Quiet, quiet. This is drums. Don't you hear them? It isn't the Indians coming through. They're drums. Look behind the clouds out there. The geese died of this. The geese died. The geese died. The geese died. The geese died. The geese died. The geese died. Look behind the seas, stubborn Peter. You'll need the old tyrant again. Your excellency. In the present danger that the colony faces. You gave me a speech before. They are not good speeches. I am not satisfied with what I find here. Disorder and an Indian attack when my back is turned. Dr. Lamontane, you will take one group and clear those woods to the north. Master Kilian, you march at once to protect the river settlement. See what boats you need and send the sailors a corps for arms. Master Cornelius, those two Indians in the stock release them for messengers to that tribe. I shall meet the stations outside the palisade tomorrow morning stop. Let them tell their masters that wooden leg wants peace. And if he doesn't get it quickly, he will hang every dot tap service to the highest trees in your Netherlands. Now get these women in the park. And every able man report here to me in 10 minutes. March. Between bullying and scheduling, divers and maids peace. And avoided what might have been not only a ghastly Indian war, but the ruin of the colony. In his treatment of the Indians, he was quick to funny, quick to reward and honor. Never was an Indian brave allowed inside the smaller villages. And he outlawed any man who sold firewater to an Indian. But in his dealings with his fellow burgers, the veteran told you never could get it through his head. The people did not always want to be rude. There's a father who rules his children and gets smacked with a silver headed king every so often. By order of the director general Peter Stiverson, and for regulations and decrees issued by us, shall be unalterably obeyed, and take immediate and unquestioned effect in all parts of the country. By order of the director general Peter Stiverson, a series of fortifications are hereby decreed, and by our command, will be constructed according to our purposes and plans without further delay. Excellency, we come to the matter of these new fortifications to protect the colony. Now, with this insurrection that the English have started along that way. Yes, yes, yes, burgamaster, we know all about that, my friend. Let us get to the point. We must have this new palatate built. Now, we waste time talking about it. What's your excellency's money for this work? We must have money. Money, money, that is all I hear. Find the money, raise the taxes. What's the taxes? What comes from the people you're excellency? We must have their consent. Their consent? I must ask leave of every worthless loafer in town to build a wall around us? The people have a voice, your excellency. Bah, tell me nothing about burgamaster. Ruled by the people, ruled by the fools and talkers, the clowns and the bear skinners. I am the law here, not the tavern loafers. I teach our privacy. But excellency, we cannot convince the people that the money is needed. Needed. You sit there like him, clucking on the roof, waiting for the English spot. And you talk about fortifications being needed. Mark my word. If we don't hold this spot for Holland and the company, someone else will. We are alone. Enemies on every side. England ready to gobble it up. Excellency, whether this be the king of England's colony, or we hold it for the Netherlands, one rule is like another. The company does nothing for our protection. They send us no powder, no soldiers. Why should we defend those who will do nothing for us? Enough! You're traitor. You're all traitors. I have listened to your idle thoughts. Now you will listen to me. We shall defend this colony with what we have. I will raise the taxes and build a defense. If I have to put every burger in, you answer them. And! Enough of this, sergeant! Mark your men in and clear this handcoupe out. I am still in command of this colony. I am the first Excellency to fight the Netherlands. They're living through here. Excellency! Yes, yes, yes. What is it? They're coming. The English Excellency. Forships. They were sighted from the Dutch people. In the lower bay, forships. Part of the Netherlands. Ah, now it is hard, not word. You hear that, Burger Masters? The English are in the harbor. Excellency, what do you plan to do? You ask me that? I plan to fight. The odds are too great. We are not ready. What of it if the odds were twice as great? What of our families, Excellency? Our wives and children? Tender-sized powers. This I have made, dear, this you answer them. You could not have made it. And you will not fight for it. But I will fight for it. If I fight along. And out of my way. There was little hope of saving the colony, but old, stubborn Peter wasn't going to give up without a fight. Once before, he'd left his way out of a tight spot with the English, and he hoped to do it again. This time it was different. Voices, low, determined, insistent voices, were heard in the streets and the caverns of New Amsterdam. Voices in the small shops, the cabins. Voices on the village green. Voices in the home. Voices of the people. You understand, we will not fight. There's nothing to offend the English, not a thing. Then your men, folk, when they come home, offer no resistance. Why should our men sacrifice themselves for a company or do nothing for it? Let old, pregnant, and the handful of soldiers defend the colony of the girls. Without our support, the English will help the colony. It is as the brother master said. Our homes and families, they matter most. That's your English, it's nothing to us. Let it be understood then. Not a man among us will stand with Peter's styluses. Spread the word of the other. Your Excellency, we must not open fire on the English. It is hopeless. The people are turning below. They're getting out of hand, expecting to burn the port. They dare do that. They want to accept the English term, save their homes. They are getting ready to fight flag now. For a term, coward. It is the English among us. Not so excellency. English and Dutch, they say the same. Our homes are at stake. Our people will not fight for the company or the flag there. Peter, your Excellency, you are alone. A handful of soldiers. There is help coming. The men from the river colonies. They are not coming, Excellency. They have sent word. It is as the brother master said, director general. The river colonies are not coming to your aid. The English offer fair terms. If you resist, you will bring destruction on the town. They also have betrayed us. Excellency, English are approaching. You are ready to fire. Markwell, Excellency. The people are in the streets. Our women, our children. Let me then go tell your Englishman we will treat water and us. And choose among you the greatest coward to haul down the colors. It was the end of Peter Stuyvesant's rule over the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam. But it was the beginning too. For the colonies became New York and grew and flourished under the English flag up to the revolution. Old Stuyvesant's Peter retired to his farm on the east side of Manhattan and raised fruit trees. You can imagine he made them stand straight and in rows too and no nonsense about it. It was the end of Peter Stuyvesant's rule over the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam. But it was the beginning too. Old Stuyvesant's Peter retired to his farm on the east side of Manhattan and rose too and no nonsense about it. He kept on friendly terms with Stuyvesant's Nichols, now Governor Nichols of New York province, as between one soldier and another. We catch the last glimpse of Old Stuyvesant's Peter before the shadows close in. He's calling on Governor Nichols in his mansion. The English governor is having some trouble with the people about quartering soldiers in their homes. We're finding it too, huh? It is near, my friends. New worlds, new ideas, new words. Freedom, the rights of the people. It was so in my day too. It will always be so. But you managed somehow to keep it down. There was no time for it then. So much work to be done. One cannot work and talk too. There was heat in there. And no shepherd dogs to bark at their heels. I made them work and you succeeded it. At least you overcame these mad notions of freedom, democracy, people's rights. No, no things I did not overcome the rest of your days. One does not overcome a tide. These things they speak of rights to the people. Like a tide coming in. No man can stop it. I was too old perhaps to see you. Too old to learn new things. A worker, a project. Those sensible things they they're like the music that your lady plays there. Strange not for me. I tried to fight that tide. Push back something in men's minds. I failed as you will fail. Maybe it is better that I fail. The world is changing and my work here is finished. Maybe they will not forget old sovereign people. I found here nothing that you lazy men frightened men, traitors, heaven-keepers, loafers, a place to rub or beaver skin and drink snuff. The others that came before me when twillers peeped did not see looking only for their beaver skin. But I saw a future here. Something more than a colony your excellency. An empire. Maybe they will not forget. Good night. Your excellency is leaving early. Yes, I sleep now. It gets late and my work is done. I leave you your empire in England. But England will not hold that empire. Cannot fight the tide. Peter Stiverton's work was done. Well done. And if, as they say, his ghost with boomed hats till the head is thick and all jumps too low in New York in the wee hours of the morning he must have the satisfaction of knowing that his visions came true. And in any man's life that's what really makes it all worthwhile. Mr. Heeter, popular news commentator brings you news of the wonders of chemistry. Mr. Heeter, thank you, Thomas Thomas. A new day, a new week and for me a new headline of Better Living for Millions. A headline about cellophane. Like many of us, I had always taken cellophane transparent wrapping for granted until, well until my visit to a wonder world of chemistry. And I realized here indeed is a chemical marvel of our day and age. For me, cellophane had always been just a wrapper for cigarettes, bread, candy, cigars. But today I found lightning wrapped in cellophane. When I say lightning I mean it in the Benjamin Franklin manner. Electricity. Yes, wrapped in cellophane. Let me give it to you as a man in a wonder world of chemistry explained it to me in a few words. He talked of modern electrical motors. Compact, miracle-like and built in a way to save every possible inch of space inside. For every inch of space which is saved inside means more room for wire. And more wire means more power. The old way was to use a bulky insulation which required a great deal of space. And one day a man decided to try transparent cellulose film. Offhand you'd say fantastic. But it worked. And today a thin winding of cellophane on top of wire does noble service on electric motors. Stepping up power and thousands of miles of ribbon cellophane as narrow as one 64th of an inch. And now made each year for insulating electric wire. A lighted taller roll of hundreds of uses for cellophane. Those duplant men worked wonders which came all fabled miracles. Picture cellophane used as bandages in hospitals. It's true. And the reason is simple. It's important to keep certain kinds of wounds in plain sight. Cellophane bandages make it possible. But tonight my mind turns to Christmas morning. Two weeks away. We've come out of a dark and weary strain. Everyone needs Christmas now as never before. And I'm certain all wonders DuPont chemists have brought. Of all they share with me tonight a vision of sparkle and gaiety which cellophane will bring to Christmas gift wrapping. Today I was given a new little book called How to Glorify Christmas Gifts. Tells how to dress up your presents in these colorful wrappings. Yes, makes it easy for anyone. And I'm told that DuPont will send the same book to you. If you drop a postcard to them at Wilmington, Delaware it will help make your Christmas a sparkling example of better things for better living through chemistry. And now a word from Thomas Thomas about next week's show. We're going to tell you about a man who lived during our own time. A man who's kindly ways in the Holmsman philosophy made him one of America's great chariots. Will Rogers. So until next week at the same time good night and best wishes from DuPont. This is a Columbia broadcast.