 The Cavalcade of America. In this week's presentation of the Cavalcade of America brought to you by Dupont, you will hear stories of how Americans have conquered time and distance in speeding up communication with one another. But before these stories begin, we wish to extend our thanks to the scores of teachers and officers in America's schools who have written us to express their enthusiasm for this series of historical episodes and to tell us that these plays are of unusual interest to students of American history, social science and dramatics. Many of these instructors have paid Dupont's Cavalcade of America a special compliment by asking if copies of the manuscript from which these radio dramas are broadcast could be obtained for classroom work. So we have printed extra copies of the manuscript for a recent broadcast which received a great many fine comments. This presentation entitled the Declaration of Independence dramatized the events leading up to the adoption of that great document by the American colonies. We shall be very glad to send a copy to any teacher or school official who writes for it. Just address your letter to Dupont Wilmington, Delaware. In writing please mention the name of your school and the class you teach. Remember the address Dupont D-U-P-O-N-T Wilmington, Delaware. This evening's episodes in the Cavalcade of America tell the story of how distance has been shortened and communication made easier. Our Cavalcade Orchestra sets the stage with a modern American composition on the trail from Fertigropé's Grand Canyon Suite. Distance separating them. In 1850 the 13 original colonies have expanded westward to the shore of the Pacific Ocean to California and gold. Suddenly in a single year that sparsely settled region becomes a rich and populous territory clamoring for admission to the Union. It was a long way for news to travel between the Golden Gate and New York Bay where on a fine spring day the clipper ship Sea Witch rides magnificently at anchor. Blood tide is beginning to slacken Captain, please. All right, Mr. Delano. Mr. Delano, man the windlass needs short. Aye, aye, sir. Heal away on the windlass breaks. Aye, aye, sir. Drag a light. Dollars and old whalers brass work. Oh, that's our windlass thing. As the bulls pull out after us from the battery, Captain, and pull the force right hearty. Yeah, it better pull hard. Once the Sea Witch gets the wind in her sails, nothing can catch her but Davy Jones. There's a man on that dingy waving at us, sir. Eh, likely he's just one of those legal shots from some sailor's boarding house. Ah, it's beautiful, Captain. Nothing finer nor faster. Small weather, past the equator, into the Antarctic winter. The Sea Witch rounds Cape Horn, carrying every stitch of canvas possible. Racing for California, the land of gold and opportunity. The Golden Gate, Captain Fraser. The Golden Gate. Very good. Well, Mr. Delano, I doubt of many of the ships that left Fort Act. 97 days from Sandy Hook is fast time. 97 days is a record, sir. It'll take good sailing and better luck to beat it, too. Eh, it's been a good crew. You've got everything out of them. First, the word for the company will give all hands a bonus. Aye, sir. Shall I make the longboat ready soon? Yes. Manage with the luscious lands aboard. And have it in the water before the anchor. I've got a message for the governor of the new state of California. California is a great commonwealth, but San Francisco and New York are still weeks apart. It takes almost a month for news to travel from coast to coast. Then, on March 26th, 1860, the New York Herald carries the following announcement. To San Francisco in eight days by the Central Overland California and Pikes Peak Express Company, the first courier of the Phony Express will leave the Missouri River on Tuesday, April 3rd at 5 o'clock p.m. and will run regularly, weekly, hereafter, carrying letter mail only. The first lap of this relay between the Atlantic Seaboard and St. Joseph, Missouri was by telegraph. But the line ends at St. Joe, where we find Johnny Frye impatiently waiting for the signal that will start him on the first run of the Phony Express. Whoa, whoa, boy. Whoa, take it easy. You'll soon have plenty of chance to run. Ah, he's a beauty owl. You've got him in great condition. Oh, he's got to be in top form, Johnny. Look at the crowd that's come to see you right off. The mail train's on time. Ah, that's good. Say, you ought to be right in the day, owl, instead of staying here in St. Joe looking after ponies. I'm studying to be a telegraph operator. You can't practice that on horseback. Whoa, boy. Who'd want to? This is better pay. Maybe my job will last longer than yours. The telegraph's got as far as St. Joe already. Yeah, the other ends 2,000 miles away. They'll cut down that distance until you boys won't have any further to ride than across the street there. Well, right now, us riders have got to get a lot of words to Carson City. Hold his head up, owl. I'm out and up. Whoa, whoa, boy, whoa. All right, let go, owl. Mailpuch must be waiting at the post office by now. No, wait for the starting signal, Johnny. Man, maybe the cannon won't go off. I don't want to lose a second. Hey, there. Hold that career. Wait. Who's that? That's the big boss himself, Mr. Russell. Gee. You, Johnny Fry? Yes, sir. Here's a message just came in by telegraph from Washington. It's from President Buchanan to the governor of California. Guard it well. With my life if necessary, sir. Fry, as the first courier westward bound on the Pony Express, I and my partners, majors in Wardale, wish you good luck and Godspeed. It's a real honor to ride for you, sir. There's a signal, Johnny. I lose his head. Good luck. Good luck, Fry. Thanks. Goodbye. Go, boys. Johnny Fry is off on the first run, 75 miles on three horses, just two minutes allowed for changing mounts. But by loosening the mail pouch before he reaches the station and tossing it to the agent before he dismounts, the time is cut down to 15 seconds. At the division point, the next rider is ready and waiting. Here he comes. Look at that kid ride. Right on time. Here, hold my horse. I'm out now. All right, here you are. Hello, Johnny. Whoa, there. How did it go? Well, it's well on the road. Here's the mail pouch. Got it. And watch his telegram. It's from the president. It's safe with me. Let go of his head, Hank. Go on. Come on. On through the wild Indian country by day and by night, ride the daring riders on the flittest horses America can breathe. As far as Red Butte's division point, where another famous rider is waiting to carry the pouch to three crossings, William F. Cody, better known to history as Buffalo Bill. Here he comes, Bill. He's running late. I'll make it up. Oh, steady boy. This horse is sure rare in the gold. You better take my rifle along, Bill. In a couple of engines the west this morning. Rifle's too heavy. I won't have time to shoot it out with him anyway. That rider looks like I won't tuck it out. Looks like he's been in trouble. Never mind me. Grab his horse. I'll take the mail pouch, kid. What happened? Indians created last station. Stole all the horses. Kill the Asians. Easy now, son. I'll help you out of the saddle. Never mind me. Take the mail. This message from the press. I got it, son. Come on, run. Morning, we're late. Look sharp for Indians, Bill. I'll watch you. On they ride, often in danger of their lives, from raiding Indians and outlaws. The fastest horses money could buy gave the pony express its speed and often saved the lives of its riders. On the first true trip, nine days and two hours after Johnny Fry galloped westward out of St. Joseph, Missouri, a great crowd gathered in the streets of Carson City, Nevada, in the post office in Telegraph, Germany. Now, what's the matter? What's all the excitement? The express. Coming out of the east like a comet. Oh, rats. I don't believe it. Just some fool rider coming in from the mine. Man, does that sound like it? Here he comes. Don't seem possible. Fairest street. Look out for that pony. Well, well, well, well on the road. Here's your mail. Whoa, boy. You're going to fish for saints. They're ready to run. Here they are. Where's that Telegraph operator? That's me, partner. There's a message from the president of the government, Downey. Here you are. We can clear out of my way, boys. Let me get to that wire. Courage and devotion to duty brought the Atlantic and Pacific Shores within nine days of each other. But this once marvelous speed soon seems an intolerable delay. In the last month of 1860, Edward Creighton, an engineer, undertakes to survey a Telegraph route between California, and the Missouri River. On November 15th, 1861, the Pacific Telegraph Company completes the circuit and it is announced to the press of both seaboard. Here comes, chief. The first message from coast to coast. Who's it from, Al? I don't know yet, but it's addressed to President Lincoln. Gosh, all hemlock. All the way from California, clicking you can wink an eye at a pretty girl. Here comes the signature. Steven J. Field, Chief Justice of California. And just think, we get those letters the same second they spell them out in San Francisco. Yep. Johnny Fry and those boys did a great job, but I'm afraid this spell's finished for the Pony Express. The American cavalcade moves onward. Reports of Lieutenant Maori who was making a survey of the ocean depth for the United States Navy showed that between Newfoundland and Ireland, the ocean bottom was a plateau at no very great depth. Then Cyrus W. Field had vision. A thought came to him, why not carry a telegraph line across the ocean? But his desire to do this was stronger than any cable he could find, as his partner in the venture pointed out. Field, your cable broke twice in 1857 and many times in 1858. Nevertheless, Mr. Blockley, I propose we try again and again until we succeed. Now look here, Field, I've backed you up a dozen times. But all these repeated failures, well, I think we've dropped enough money to the bottom of the Atlantic. We had it working for three weeks in 1958. I don't have to last longer than that to get our money back and I won't throw any more good money after that. But we've improved our cable. We have better equipment. I'm convinced we can succeed. But if we quit now, we're sure to fail. Our whole thing is nothing but a pipe tree. At least give us your opinion on the new plan. I won't even hear them discussed. You're a fool, Field. When a fool and his money are soon parted, that won't include me this time. Good day to you. The withdrawal of the vice president of the company did not stop Field. Though we had to use English money and a ship from the Navy of Queen Victoria. The year 1866 saw the successful completion of a transatlantic cable. Again we find Cyrus W. Field in his office. Mr. Field, there's a Mr. Blockley. Who says he must see? Field? Field? Well, Blockley, this is unexpected. What can I do for you? If you knew what it cost my pride to come here. But I'm in trouble. Desperate. Compose yourself then. Compose myself. Field, unless I can reach my agent in London before the next packet arrives, I'm a ruined man. Well, the transatlantic cable is for everyone's use. But at present rates it would cost me nearly $7,000 to send my instructions. I can't possibly put my hands on so much cash. What do you want me to do? Send that message for me. I'll pay you back twice over in a month. You're sure it won't be sending good money after bad? Please don't remind me of that. I bitterly regretted my lack of faith in you and the cable. Is your message ready? Yes. We'll send it at once. You've saved my entire fortune. How can I ever repay you? By subscribing to the cost of laying a new cable. American-owned and operated. Done. And gladly. But even the telegraph was unable to fulfill entirely the desire for speed. On March 10th, 1876, on the top floor of a boarding house on Exeter Place in Boston, we find Alexander Graham Bell with his assistant, Thomas Watson. Bell has been making experiments, hoping to be able to transmit the human voice by wire. Watson has built a new transmitter according to Bell's instructions. Now, Mr. Watson, if you take this receiver down the hall to my bedroom and fasten it to the other end of the wire. I will, Mr. Bell. Shall I move these batteries first? Are they in your way? No, no, they're all right. It was between. I want a real test. I won't belong. Now, let me see. What do I say? Something that'll be a real test. Something unexpected. I think I'll... Oh, those confounded batteries. Mr. Watson, come here. I want you. Mr. Watson, come here. I want you to get some of that other... Mr. Bell. Mr. Bell, I heard every word you said. Well, but I wasn't testing the instrument. I knocked over the batteries and spilled the acid on my clothes. But I heard every word distinctly through the telephone. Only but surely spread its wire over the country. And soon, ways and means were found to send words without the use of any wires, whatever. By wireless. On December 12th, 1901, American newspapers carry the thrilling headline, Ocean Spanned By Wireless. Then, an enterprising reporter reaches Thomas A. Edison. Mr. Edison, my paper wants a statement from you. Eh, what about? Marconi's great achievement. In St. John, Nova Scotia, he has received the call signal S, sent from Cornwall in England. Eh, don't believe it. He's only experimenting. Pick up calls from transatlantic liners on the grand banks. 300 miles out. Cornwall is 1,700 miles from Nova Scotia. Well, here's the message we got from him. It says, confirm that signals were received here Thursday and Friday, direct from Cornwall. Receiving wire suspended by a kite, signed Marconi. Eh, since Marconi's stated over his own signature that he's received the signal from England, I believe him. I think he'll carry it to a commercial success. It's a great achievement. He's a great experimenter. And that's signed Edison. The very next year of 1902, in Fairmont Park, Philadelphia, an inventor named Nathan B. Stubblefield gave the first public demonstration of an instrument which sent the voice through the air without wires. But fearing to tell his secret to the world until his patent had been granted in 1908, he lost the fame that comes from acclaimed priority. About this time, Dr. Leeda Forrest invented the Audien or Vacuum II, and the modern age of speed and communication is on its way. Invention follows invention at a dizzy pace. In 1915, a message was broadcast from Arlington and picked up in Paris, France and in Honolulu, 5,000 miles away. In 1930, through the short wave, one voice encircled the entire globe in just one eighth of a second. And today, words fly instantly from land and sky and sea, from the end to the Earth. This is the grimly Antarctic expedition speaking on short wavelength from our base across the South Polar continent from Little America. We have just completed a survey of lands never before cited by man. To the east of us, there is a height. Well, folks, here we are at the good old world series between the Chicago Cubs and the Detroit Tigers. It's quite a moment, folks. It's a great day. The stands are crowded. The head school boy row in the box is waiting for the umpire's signal. Car's attention, all cars. Signal 32, signal 32. Black sedan, last seen headed for intersection number 192. Intersection number 192. Car license number AYU-53. Sweeping down the coast from the northeast, rain and high winds reaching proportions of a gale expected to extend south of Hatteras before moving inland. Storm signals all along the coast. Hatches stand by, bridge washed out south of Lansing. Telegraph wires down. Stop all trains on Lansing division. Route all trains to west until further down it. Crag and 34 calling north. Okay, Crag, go ahead. Visibility zero, I'm coming in. You're directly over field. Wind due east, 20 miles. Circle around and follow your beam in. Okay, here I come. Today the air about us is filled with words on every kind of mission. All the quick changing, barricaded pattern of human thought. And this broadcast itself is a demonstration of the swift pace and far-reaching scope of the cavalcade of America. Listening to stories like those just presented, to realize what great stride science has made since the days of the clipper ships and the pony express. One of the most swiftly moving of the sciences which are remaking the world we live in is that of chemistry. Research chemists are today's pioneers, exploring nature's secrets, pushing back the frontiers which divide the known from the unknown and the present from the future. Among the countless articles entering into our daily lives are many that no amount of money in the world could have bought just a few years ago. They simply did not exist then, for they had not yet emerged from the test queue. Americans in their forward march of progress are not satisfied with things as they find them. They're constantly seeking products which are better, less expensive, more useful and more beautiful than those which mother nature supplies. So our American chemists take nature's raw materials and combine them into forms better suited to our needs. Through the magic wand of chemistry, coal tar is made to yield gorgeous colors delicious flavors, delicate perfumes and important medicinal products. Cotton is converted into lovely toiletware, gleaming finishes, luxurious fabrics and durable upholstery materials. Minerals are changed into colorful decorations for Chinaware. Limestone and coal find their way into a man-made rubber that surpasses the natural product for many purposes. The list of beautiful and useful products which the chemist has built up from simpler raw materials is almost endless. Such products make life easier, happier and more complete for millions of people and DuPont is proud that it has been able to play a part in their development. Yet great as they are, even more marvelous things await discovery. Most of us can only wonder what the future holds in store but the solution of problems that chemists are working on today may make possible articles in common use tomorrow. That is why companies such as DuPont maintain chemical research laboratories with workers eagerly exploring new possibilities for human betterment and enjoyment. No one realizes better than DuPont chemists that the work of science is far from finished. That explains their constant efforts to fulfill their creed. Better things for better living through chemistry. Next Wednesday at the same time, DuPont will again present The Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. W ABC, New York.