 The Depart Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America, featuring a special Thanksgiving broadcast, The Pass of Praise, our star, Walter Hamden. We need our guiding hands that follow the sea, and when they cross the wind we stand with hands on their knees. Children stand, still we need them and free our world. As the colors of autumn stream down the wind, scarlet in sumac and maple, spun gold in the birches, a splendor of smoldering fire in the oaks along the hill, and the last leaves flutter away and the dusk falls briefly. We are stirred and made to ponder the infinite goodness that has set apart for us in all the moving mystery of creation, a time of living and a home. So wrote the late Dr. Wilbur L. Cross, Governor of Connecticut, in his famous Thanksgiving proclamation. The Governor was following an American tradition of 300 years standing, and the history of that tradition down the years is the theme of tonight's Cavalcade drama. This is the history of Thanksgiving. When our exiled fathers crossed the sea, when the pilgrims came, they did not come as one body in spirit. There was dissension and disunity aboard the Mayflower. Privation and near mutiny afloat and a dreadful winter ashore preceded the first Thanksgiving. Half of the little company met death of a pestilence in that first winter. At one time only six men were well enough to stand, walk about and care for the rest. When spring came there were fifty-one left, men and women and children. Now the first summer is over. In the common house which is served as council chamber and hospital, one man and one boy remain. By the boys' cot the man sits writing. Yes, y'all. Why are you always writing? Oh, because I'm still over a week to hold corn ladder, you would, or draw water. So I tend to stick and scribble words. I'm feeling better this morning. It's so much cooler now. Could I not leave my bed, Master? We shall see. Would you read me what you're writing? This is a letter to our brethren still in England and Holland. How it'll reach them God only knows. Then perhaps you might read it for me? Oh, surely. I have written, we set the last spring some twenty acres of Indian corn and sowed some six acres of barley and peas. Our corn did prove well, God be praised, and our barley indifferent good. But our peas were not worth the gathering. Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men fouling so that we might, after a more special manner, rejoice together in thanksgiving. What's that? That's mine? And Captain Miles Standish was men. Part of the rejoicing, their drilling to make a show for the Indians. Master Bradford, do you hear that? Don't be quiet, lad. It is but a salute to impress the savages with our strength at arms. Well, they came in peace. Governor Carver invited their chiefs to come for our day of thanksgiving today. But Master Sawyer had bought ninety of his braves for the rejoicing. Nineties. Well, there's cash in the press. Well, the savages, seeing they'd caused us embarrassment, sent hunters out to kill games. They bought back five deer. And our own followers, too, had great good fortune. Ah, there'll be a fine feast this evening. A feast? And me not there? Ah, we shall have venison, lad. Roast duck, roast goose, baked clams, eels, cornbread, leeks, watercress, wild pl— Yes? I am well now. Almost hardly hungry. Well, let me touch your forehead. Ah, and your wrist. Why, fever is quite gone, I do believe. I am not yet seen any of you, Master. And I am hungry. May I go? Please may I go? Yes, Giles. I do believe you're well again. You may go. You're closer than the lock of—Giles! Yes, Master? Do not forget to give thanks that you are well again. Oh, no, Master. I'll not forget. Before the feasting, Giles. Before the feast. When I finish my writing, I'll go with you, lad. So young. So young. Now, let me see. This day of thanksgiving, the last of our number who is stricken with a great sickness, a lad of twelve years did fully shake off his fever and is well again. And so, by much suffering, we have become one body, cleaving each to the other in sickness or joy. Although our fare be not always so plentiful, yet by the goodness of God we are so far from want that we often wish you also partakers of our plenary. Kneel and lie here to sing in every time and place. Glory to our heaviness, our God of truth and grace. Joining them with faith and heart. Calling one thanksgiving joy. Holy, holy, holy Lord, keep and the faith behind. Gradually the thanksgiving custom spread through New England. But it remained for more than a century entirely a New England tradition. The first thanksgiving day celebrated by men from all the colonies occurred a few months before those colonies became the thirteen original states, our scenes. The headquarters of General George Washington at Cambridge during the Siege of Boston, shortly after Washington's arrival from Virginia to take command in 1775. The general is dictating letters to his adjutant, Colonel Joseph Reed. And would you go over that for me, Colonel? Yes, sir. The general expressly forbids any person to bathe in a nude at or near the bridge in Cambridge, where it had been observed and complained of that many men, lost to all sense of common modesty, are running about naked upon the bridge, whilst ladies of the first faction in the neighborhood are passing over it. That is correct. See that a copy is supplied to each of the regimental and company commanders. Yes, sir. I see you smiled. No doubt, General Gade would laugh aloud if he knew that I wasted my time on such unmilitary matters. But we must somehow teach these ruffians to act as soldiers. There is much General Gade doesn't know, sir. Yeah, fortunately. They see you are a state. He'd march out on the morrow and scatter us to the forewind. Yes, sir. The reports are just coming in, Reed. We have no powder. 36 barrels for an army of 16,000. Colonel Gridley's artillery boasts of nine steel pieces and no ammunition. We have no uniforms, no experienced officers and no discipline, whatever. Well, sir, men from different colonies have different customs, different habits. They've never learned a word together or think alike. By heaven they must learn. I've heard, sir, that you provided some of them with a something good lesson yesterday evening. It's an episode I just still forget, Colonel. I haven't heard it to tell, sir. There are many conflicting stories about the camp. Why, this one was simple enough. Colonel Glover's Massachusetts troops saw fit to pick a quarrel with Morgan's Virginia rifleman. Having no uniforms themselves, the Yankees pretended to take a fancy to the fringe buckskins the Virginia lads are wearing. Uh-huh. After a deal of name-calling, fists began to fly, and in a matter of minutes, a thousand men read each other's floats. You took steps, sir? Yes, I did. When I reached the scene, I seized two of the ring-leaders each by the neck, and I knocked their heads together with considerable force. Good. And I gave the rest of them a tongue-lacking. Oh, uh, I hope, Colonel, the language I use has not become a matter of common gossip. Well, it is said that you were not, uh, well, overly gentle, sir. I have learned over many years to keep a tight reign on my temper. Ah, but these people, Colonel, if only there was some manner of action I could take short of knocking their heads together, if only I could make them see that we are one country now, that we must forget these provincial quarrels and work together as a nation must. General, sir, I have a suggestion, sir. It's a small thing in itself, but it might help in the matter you're trying to mend by all means. Well, sir, it appears in here in Massachusetts that people celebrate each autumn a feast of thanksgiving. Oh. The day is set aside by proclamation of the colonial legislature. Now a copy of this year's announcement arrived this morning, addressed to you, sir. Here it is. Oh, oh, oh. And, uh, what do you suggest? Let the army join in a celebration, sir. All of it. Not just the New Englanders. Everyone, north and south. A day of prayer and seeking for all the truth. If they pray together, then perhaps they'll fight together. And it might help a little, sir. It's nice. It's nice. Very well, Colonel. We'll do it now. And they copy this down. Yes, sir. To the troops of the provinces of North America. The honorable legislator of this colony, having me fit to set apart Thursday, the 23rd of November, 1775, as a day of public thanksgiving. The general therefore commands that day to be observed throughout the army with all the solemnity directed by the legislative proclamation. It is to be hoped henceforth from that day that all distinction of colonies will be laid aside so that one and the same spirit may animate the whole. And the only contest shall be who shall render the most essential service to the great cause in which we are all engaged. You are listening to a special thanksgiving broadcast on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry and presenting Walter Hampton. Now, we continue the path of praise. After the revolution, the path of praise led ever westward beyond the mountains as the sons of New England carried the thanksgiving tradition toward the setting sun over the prairies toward the seas into the new savage country. Long the dangerous way, the old traditions took new root. The little red schoolhouse, the habit of freedom, freedom of speech, freedom of worship until the path of praise had spanned the continent had reached the western seas. But for many years all of the people did not observe thanksgiving on the same day and a few states undertook no official observance at all. The credit for the establishment of thanksgiving as a national holiday belongs to a lady who should be better known to all of us, Sarah Josepha Hale, pioneer woman journalist. Sarah Hale was for 40 years editor of Godie's Ladies Book, the leading women's magazine of our great-grandmother's time. In 1847 she began her campaign for a national day of thanksgiving and she kept it up year after year. In 1863, finally, she wrote to President Abraham Lincoln. Would it not be of great advantage socially, nationally, religiously to have the day of our American thanksgiving positively settled? Putting aside sectional feelings, would it not be more noble, more truly American to act nationally in unity when we offer to God our tribute of joy and gratitude for the blessings of the year? Tradition has it that Sarah Hale carried her plea to the White House itself in 1863 late in the war between the states. If she did, we can imagine the scene in Abraham Lincoln's office. It is a great pleasure, ma'am, to meet a lady editor. A great pleasure. I wouldn't say that about all editors, mind you, but lady editors, yes, by all means. Thank you. Won't you sit down? Yes, here you are. I don't like to take much of your time, Mr. President. No, no, don't you hurry. There are some 50 people waiting to see me. I'd calculate 49 of them wanting me to do something they don't want to do. So we have plenty of time. You know, ma'am, Mrs. Lincoln reads your magazine every month. How nice. And don't you like it, Mr. Lincoln? Yes, yes, she does. But I'm not at all sure. That's a good thing. Oh, and why not? Well, you see, Mrs. Salmon Pete's case. She's the wife of the Secretary of the Treasury. She reads it too. And it gives both of them notions. Mrs. Lincoln, he sees a fancy dress in the lady's book and she orders it up. Mrs. Salmon Pete, she's married her new rig. And right away, she lights up for your magazine and finds something just a little might more expensive to bring on the cabinet ladies at the next foyer. Surely you're joking, Mr. President. No, no, no. People are beginning to talk. The newspaper's too. I had a clipping here somewhere. I never can find anything on this desk. Oh yes, yes, here it is. It's from the Dayton, Ohio Empire. I'll read it to you. It says, the Lincoln Chase contest has extended into the women's department. Mrs. Lincoln has got a new French rig with all the poses costing $4,000. And Mrs. Chase sees her and goes her one better by ordering a nice little $6,000 a ring. Go eat greenbacks while it's yet today. But that's ridiculous. Those prices are absurd. I never heard of such a thing. Of course, it's ridiculous, ma'am. And I have been joking. It's a habit of mine. I just wanted to show you why I don't like some editors. They print lies about my wife. But Mr. President, the ladies' book has supported you in every move you've made for the past three years. There, there, I know it has, and I appreciate it, ma'am. Believe me, I do. I try to make a joke of these curves, attacks, but sometimes I can't quite help being hurt. At this moment, when we are fighting for our very lives, these people are not about fomenting disunity behind the lines. While men are dying in the field, these little foxes spread disunion at home. You, you pardon me. Today has been hard. I am a bit, well, stuck. Poor man, I'll go then. No, no, no, don't leave me. I remember now why you came. You wrote me a letter about Thanksgiving. You want me to proclaim it as a national holiday. It is a thing very close to my heart, Mr. President. I've worked for it more than 16 years now. I would like to see it done before I die. I have given a deal of thought to your letter and your editorials. There are those who would say we have little to be thankful for in the midst of this terrible war. You know that, ma'am? Yes. And I know they would be wrong. Yes. Yes, they would be wrong. I don't know why I'm sure of that, but I am sure. The ways of God toward man are beyond my skill to be, ma'am. But this I know. His will prevails. In your letter, you drew a wonderful picture for me. You made me see a whole nation singing together a song of praise, accepting together with one voice the will of God. Not many voices, gnarling and bickering and spewing force, ma'am. One voice. One voice. That is what I have worked for. So many years. Why, then, we have worked together. Mrs. Hale, all day long, I sit here and listen to the people who wait to talk with me. No one is turned away without a hearing. But most of them, as I said, want something I cannot give. And so you can see it does me a deal of good when I can say, yes, petition granted. Your petition is granted, Mrs. Hale. I had already decided to proclaim Thursday the 26th of November next as a National Day of Thanksgiving. Oh, thank God. Thank God. Yes, ma'am. Thank God. After Lincoln's proclamation, each president, in turn, followed his lead. And in 1941, the Congress itself formally set the 4th Thursday in November as the Day of Praise and National Thanksgiving by law. In 1621, the celebration of Thanksgiving brought a sense of brotherly oneness to a tiny colony wracked by suffering and torn by despair. Again in 1775, in the wisdom of General Washington, the tradition of thankful prayer helped to weld 13 jealously separate colonies into a single great nation. Then in 1863, where that nation ravaged again by fraternal strife, the final establishment of Thanksgiving Day by Abraham Lincoln served as a symbol of national unity. And now today, in times as troubled as any of the nation has known, with freedom threatened by huge and malicious force, may we not again make Thanksgiving Day a day of renewal of brotherhood. All of us can we not join in a prayer of thankfulness composed for his own daily use by another great American, Benjamin Franklin. This is Franklin's prayer. And for as much as in gratitude is one of the most odious of vices, let me be not unmindful gratefully to acknowledge the favor I receive from heaven. For food and raiment, for corn and wine and milk, and every kind of helpful nourishment for the common benefits of air and life, for useful fire and delicious water, for all thy innumerable benefits, for life and reason and the use of speech, for health and joy, and every pleasant hour. Thank you. Our thanks to Walter Hampton and the Cavalcade players for tonight's story, The Path of Players. Now, here's Bill Hamilton speaking for the DuPont Company. You've seen the praise in print. You've heard it a thousand times, especially around Thanksgiving. You've probably used it yourself. The United States is the land of plenty. What is plenty? What does it mean? Does it mean that everybody has every last thing he wants? No, of course, that would be downright silly. When we say America is the land of plenty, we mean that more people here in America have more than people in any other country have ever had. We produce more, therefore we have more. How do we do it? Other countries have more natural resources than we in the United States have, and still we outproduce them. What is our secret? The answer seems to be that there is no one secret, unless it's what we call the American way of life. An important ingredient of the American way is that Americans are willing to take a chance in order to earn a possible reward. Our people welcome new ideas. Seeing a chance for profit, someone eagerly goes ahead and develops them. That's what happened with the phonograph, cellophane, the electric light, the automobile, thousands of other things. Sometimes it took only a few dollars. Sometimes it took millions, as with products of chemical science like nylon or cellophane. But in every instance, someone in America went confidently ahead with an idea. Can it be that the secret lies in the words confidently and profit? An American manufacturer with a chance to make a good profit on a good product can afford to try out new ideas. And he does it with confidence because our American way protects the ideas and profits of individuals and of companies. One of many thousands of American business firms, the DuPont company adds to the American standard of plenty an increasing number of better things for better living through chemistry. Next week, the star of the DuPont Cavalcade will be McDonald's Kerry, our play, Incident at Lancaster. It tells the story of one of the most exciting escapes in American history. Be sure to listen. Tonight's DuPont Cavalcade, the class of praise starring Walter Hampton, was written by George H. Faulkner, the Cavalcade players were Bobby Satin as Giles, Frank Reddick as Bradford, Bramwell Fletcher as George Washington, Joseph Bell as Reed, Evelyn Varden as Sarah Hale, and Bill Adams as Abraham Lincoln. Original music was composed by Artin Cornwell, and the orchestra in chorus was conducted by Donald Boatley. The program was directed by John Dollar. Don't forget next week, our star, McDonald's Kerry. The DuPont Cavalcade of America is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry.