 Tonight, the Cavalcade of America takes the characteristic American traits of family devotion and determination to succeed against odds and portrays him in the true story of a pioneer mother, Eliza Ann Brooks. Eliza was an inspiring woman who lived in an inspiring era, the era when America was developing westward beyond the Mississippi. She had an ideal in the model which formed the basis of her story and which was the key note of her life. Where there is no vision the people perish. Overjoyed, Don Borey's and the DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra play wagon wheels under the sewing machines. On October 10th, the first passenger train to cross the Mississippi River chuffed out of Chicago. America lost two of her greatest statesmen, Henry Clay and Daniel Webster. The pattern of the nation was changing. Migration to the distant frontiers of the west had begun. West of great hope, of limitless opportunity, of new lives. Through the vision and spirit of the thousands of men and women who moved across the plains in the prairie schooners of the 40s and 70s, the nation was not only discovering itself, but perpetuating itself. Among these pioneer Americans was a mother who lived in Michigan with her six children, Eliza Ann Brooks. One day she received a letter. Dear Eliza Ann, today marks the second year since I've seen you and the children. I'm working very hard and my health is much improved. You would like it out here in California. I often find myself dreaming of you and the children crossing the great plains to join me. We could build a new home and start a new life together out here. I guess that's a fantastic dream when you come right down to it though. But I sometimes feel that perhaps George Brooks had gone to California to improve his health and the family fortune and Eliza Ann waited through the long days, weeks, months. Finally two years passed. Most wives went on waiting but not Eliza Ann. A few weeks after the letter came, her neighbors were astonished to see a big prairie schooner before her door with four teams of oxen yoke to it. Her children were helping with the loading while inside the house, Eliza Ann and her daughter Vienna are looking over the last details. Vienna, I hope we haven't forgotten anything. Flour, dried apples, hard tag, and the bacon. Everything's packed, mom. Now if I can only find you. It was here a minute ago. We had to say goodbye to someone. Well, fetch him and see that Elmont and Orion don't sit on the eggs. All right, mom, I'll go. Vienna. Yes, ma'am. You've been a big help, dear, for such a little girl. Eliza. Come on in, Sally. Eliza, I've known you for a long time and if you ask me, I'd say that if your husband knew you were packing off to California, he'd put a stop to it. Maybe. Anyway, I've written him that we're coming. Mom, guess what? There's a big crowd collecting and Tom Snow's making a speech like it was election day and saying you're the craziest woman in the whole of Michigan. It's a fine way to talk about me on my own front porch. I'll go out and see about this. Come on, Sally. They're so worked up with a woman going alone, Eliza Ann. As far as they know, it's never been done and with that no account Jeb hired for driving. Now then, Tom Snow, what have you been saying about me? This village ought to stop you, Eliza Brooks. They can six little children in a wagon from here to California. Too bad, I say. And I say it's too bad it's a free country so that even women up and do what they like. As six of your guns, Eliza. It feels like we're ready to go. Vienna, are the children all aboard? One, two, three, four, five. Yes, ma'am. I'll help you up, mom. All right. Step on the wheel. That's the last shot. Where's the cows hiding back? Good morning, Jeb. Good morning, ma'am. Jeb, it's very kind of you to be driver. So you're not scared. And that's the end of what you're paying me, Mrs. Brooks. Mom, I can take a wedding. Can I, Mom? Oh, you and your chickens. Oh, all right, Orion. Well, wave goodbye to everyone, children. Go ahead, Jeb. All right, bye, Sally. I'm daring to think too much about danger. Eliza Ann set out on the journey. The trip as far as the Missouri River was like any other pioneer trip. Meyer and Bogg was caused by the spring rain, a late arrival at Council Bluffs, and plans and consultations to join some big wagon trains. There all six children came down with a measles. Eliza Ann had to delay her start. And one night when she was away from the wagon, the children were listening to the stories of a casual call. And then folks in the wagon saw a whole lot of mounds by the road. Mounds in the earth. What were they, Mr. Grange? Fresh graves. Generally, Indians don't bother digging graves. But when the settlers got nearer, they saw that every grave had a head on it. The redskins had chopped off the heads of the corpses and put them on top of the graves to plague their relatives. Are you the little one scared? Why note of a case where the Indians took the dead body. I woke you up. I tell you children to get the bed instantly. Yes, Mom, but we were hearing about. Well, Mr. Grange here is from the wagon that campfires this afternoon. Good evening. Howdy. Been wanting to get a look at the lone female with the six children. Don't you know that my children have been sick with measles? That's what I hear. And a baby still has a fever. Should all the get in their sleep to be strong for our journey. Journey where? Reckon, you'll be going back to Michigan now that you've lost your driver. What do you mean? Well, that Jeb hardy yours naturally been talking to all the folks that's come in from the planes. And he's here to about how the engines is about to go on the war path. Where is Jeb? I told him what he was up against. He headed north. Oh, oh, no. You mean Jeb's gone? Yo, quit it. That'll do it, Ryan. Now we'll go on without Jeb. I'm sure some of the Indians are friendly. Mom, Jeb was awful lazy. We can find another driver. We can. For this town's full of desperadoes that wait here to rent their cells as drivers to foreigners from the east. Good night, Mr. Grange. Well, good night. Children need their sleep now. Well, so long. So long, kids. Engines are friendly. Get down here, Mom. Mom, you aren't getting the measles, are you? Children, maybe I was wrong about this trip. Are any of you afraid? No, Mom. We're not afraid. No, Mom. If any Indian shoot, we'll shoot them with the old flint rod. Bang, bang. Yeah, shoot them. Bang, bang, bang, bang. Bang, in, Delma. No, no. Just your brothers, but they're worse than a lot of commensers. No, no, no. Go to sleep, dear. Now get into your blanket, children. That's nice and warm. Put your arm in, Jeb. That's it. Hurry up. You all tucked in? Now close your eyes. We'll all say a prayer. Now I lay me down to sleep. Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before... Orion, have you got those chickens in bed with you? No, Mrs. Mother. Put them outside, Orion. Mom, can I keep them in here just for the night? Well, all right, dear. Oh, God, watch over us and keep us. Up there beyond the stars, you know more about things than we do. We're not the first and, well, we won't be the last to want to cross these prairies. Stay with us and help us, and everything will be all right. Next morning they set out, swinging the reins over their great black oxen. Little Elisha and Eliza Ann herself had to admit that a man's strength was needed for the driving. They hired a driver named Jack Brandon, and their trouble began again. One night in camp, Jack was cooking supper while Orion, aged six, looked on. What's he cooking in that kettle, Jack? Smells like meat, you catch a rabbit. Now keep your noisy little nose poked out of there. Take that pail and get out of the spring like I told you. Say, I didn't do nothing. You don't have to shove me around. Oh, I don't, eh? I don't have to shove you, but maybe I want to. You keep your hands off me. I know how much you got that black guy last weekend, and you even hit little Elmon, a baby. I've never seen such an outfit. Ain't you kids never been slapped? Oh, you wouldn't understand. Give me that tail. Hurry up about it. Aren't you kids never been slapped? Wish I was bigger. Orion, is Jack Brandon been riding you again? Yeah. How can we get rid of him and get another driver? No way on earth, Orion. Look at those campfires off west. Just getting dark enough to see him. That's the rest of the wagon train. Oh, we're way back of it. Offer! Offer's ready. Come on, Lasha. Anyway, he offered to pick supper tonight so Mom can have a rest. All right, chicken leg, you kids. I've never seen such a lazy pack of coyotes in my life. Where's that chicken water, Orion? I got it. I'll get for it out. You're better, Mom. Yes, it is a fiddle. Sit around the fire, children. Smells like Jack fixed a special treat for us. All right, hold up your place, folks, and I'll fill them up. Dry kids, both of them. Thought it was about time we had a square meal. We're done that night for a while. Oh, kill him. Those were my chickens for Orion, Jack. Either I eat chicken tonight, Mrs. Brooks, or your outfits without a driver. Well, maybe that's better, Jack. Well, if that's the way you feel about it, I'm through. Go ahead. See how far you'll get without a real driver on these prairies. Mom, they did and got the feel of the plains of the sailorlands, the roll of the sea, the endless flat earth, the bright sky of early summer, the dust, the sage, the pale, slow-moving rivers. They followed the river flat for days, and perhaps Eliza Ann may have doubted the wisdom that it entailed her to find her husband and a new life in the West. But these were their children, these brown, laughing little savages. Her eyes at night stitched the horizon for the sight of other campfires and by day for other wagons that might give them protection. But they faced their first danger alone, rounding a slight rise of ground one day to find a band of waiting Indians. Well, well, I've arrived straight on, Eliza. Indians. Eliza, you heard me. But hurry, get the team started. I'm kind of scared. It would be all right. As long as they just keep looking at us like that. And you don't get to see people passing through very often. Yeah, maybe. Children, you all asleep back there? What is it, Mom? Come here, Vienna. Look, dear. Tell the others, but don't let them get frightened. Come out of sight. Yes, I will, Mom. Keep right on going, Eliza. Yeah, Mom. Gee. Look out! Stop, Eliza! Whoa! Whoa, there! We're sorry. We didn't mean to run into you, but you stepped in the way and... How? What? Tell, boy. What, goodbye, me mother. That's quite a compliment, Eliza. No one ever offered before. Too blanket. No, thank you. No. Free? No. Money. Buy girls. Pony. Boys. More. Might as well come out now, children. Yes, five boys and one girl. Three ponies. All. Well, you're very kind, but I can't consider it. No. Goodbye. Drive on, Eliza. Get it! Get it! No! Goodbye! Good morning, Abaya. I'm all the nerve. Now aren't you glad you were so good all the way from Michigan? Or I'd have snapped him right up. Now they seem to bring them luck, for they soon caught up with the wagon train ahead. The sound of other human voices was grateful. But within a week, a couple in the train lost their children, a three-year-old son who'd wandered off in the night. The rest of the train went on, but the brook stayed behind to help in the search. Two days later, Eliza and Eliza Anne... Now let's go back to the wagon, Mom. We've been out here for hours. I know how I'd feel if I lost one of you. You've got to find Mrs. Dennis' baby. He must be somewhere. Looked everywhere. It's getting awful dark. Well, all right, son. Mom! Yes? We're not making much time, are we? I only hope we get to the Sierras before the snow's set in. Mom! Do you think we'll ever get to California? I'll tell you about something I was thinking last night, son. About when your father was courting me. He used to bring the Bible over to read, because as long as he was reading the Bible, your grandfather didn't care how often he came. And I always remembered something your father liked. The saying of one of the prophets, where there is no vision, the people perish. Don't forget that, son. Mrs. Brooke! Mrs. Brooke! Mama, Mrs. Ashley! They found him! Oh, Mrs. Dennis! The treasurer found him late this afternoon, wandering around the stage. Oh, Mrs. Brooke, I can't ever thank you enough. Me? You don't have to thank me. Of course you hadn't stayed behind. My husband might have let the rest of the train persuade him to give up. Oh, yes, he might. I... I'd have never seen my baby again. You know how I... Oh, yes, yes, I know, Mr. Dennison. Now come on, let's go back to the wagons and get some sleep. Better start early in the morning. But now the pioneer mother faced new dangers. Dangers that threatened to defeat her determination to bring her family across an unsettled continent. Real wilderness, alkali desert, the scorching August sun, no grass, no blade of grass, a gaunt woman and six lean children, gasping oxen, two of them staggering until finally they sagged and rolled over dead. Eliza and Brooks hitched the last team to a lighter cart found by the trail. Sometimes Indians stared down at them from the bleak hill. And then one morning... Ryan... Lasha... Dennis... Dennis... Dennis, we're waiting up. Well... I thought there was no use waking you because there's no way for us to go ahead today. Not on empty stomachs. Will we just stay here? Yes, yes, we'll stay here. Right for this river. There's a better chance than anywhere of meeting other wagons. If anyone comes, they'll take pity on us. Mom... I think I see a man on a horse. Oh, you kept saying that all day yesterday. Look around if you don't believe me. He's coming this way too. Hello! I'm sure hurrying to get here anyway. Where's Eliza? Be friendly. Mom! Mom, it looks like father. Father! Eliza! Eliza! It was the end of the long journey. The pain and the toil climaxed in that nearly incredible meeting of the family by the river. It was the end of a typical American saga of the Overland Trail. And for the rest of her life, Eliza Ann Brooks was known as one of the pioneer mothers of California. Her spirit lived many years after her death. For one day in 1921 in the town of Ben-Loman, California. And now, and now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the big part of this celebration. Mr. Eliza Brooks, who came to California when he was 11, is 80 years old today. Because Mr. Brooks is the outstanding citizen of this town, because he's served for many years as principal of our high school and been one of our first leaders in every civic venture, we've come together to honor him today. Mr. Eliza Brooks. Thank you, sir. Thank you. My kind friends, at a time like this, a man wants to feel grateful to someone for his good fortune. I charge up mine to my mother, Eliza Ann Brooks. She's been dead for many, many years now. But her kind of person always seems alive. She was one of those gadabout women, took it into her head to come to California and just came. She didn't want gold. She was like a lot of other Americans who came out here to make a new home and do the best she could in helping to build this really priceless country we live in. I can still see our old prairie schooner creeping along just east of the Sierras, the six starving children and the woman. And the woman talking about her favorite quotation from the Bible. I can hear now where there is no vision the people perish. Sometimes when we were rebuilding this town and I saw danger or trouble ahead, I decided that it better be our motto. So I give it to you straight from Eliza Ann, where there is no vision the people perish. The cattlecade of America salutes the spirit of a pioneer mother, Eliza Ann Brooks. An example of the courage and determination to overcome hardship and despair in following an ideal. Characteristics that have marked Americans in every age in the annals of our history. So here's Basil Risedale speaking for the DuPont Company and bringing us another story from the Wonderworld of Chemistry. Tonight's story of chemistry is right under your feet and under my feet, too. And it starts with a queer fact that may surprise you is a dead meat. Shoe leather breathes. The peculiar quality of breathing or letting air pass through it helps to make leather an ideal material for shoes. Millions of interlaced fibers make up the structure of leather, giving it flexibility and strength and at the same time making it porous. The chemical process of tanning not only preserves leather but also makes these fibers even stronger than they are in the natural hide. Yes, in the very leather your shoes are made of, I found a story of chemistry that goes back to the days of ancient Egypt when the pyramids were built. In those days they used vegetable materials such as oak bark to make the tanning solution. The tribes of Old Testament times are said to have discovered the value of oak bark tanning. And in the course of time, men found that other barks and woods could also be used. The list is a long one. It includes hemlock and mimosa and mangrove bark, sumac leaves, nut galls, chestnut wood. They all have one characteristic. They contain tannin, a chemical substance. An entirely different tanning agent was discovered by chemists in the late 1800s and chrome tanning was developed. Tanning done by the salts of the mineral chromium. Yes, the same metal used for the bright plating on your automobile. As far as your shoes are concerned, chrome tanning is used mainly for the leather that goes into the uppers. Most sole leather is cured by vegetable tanning. Whichever method is used, the tanner of today also depends on a score of chemicals that aid the numerous steps in the tanning process. Chemicals furnished by DuPont as well as other chemical companies. By applying chemical research to tanning, man was able to hasten the old-fashioned slow methods that were more costly. Now he is able to ensure uniform quality and to get a better product for less money. I am told that many other chemical products are used in the making of shoes. Among them are dyes, cements, and plastics for scuffless heels. As a result, you and I have comfortable, good-looking and more durable shoes that kings and queens couldn't have bought a few generations ago. Shoes, over 400 million pairs are made in America each year. And every pair a walking example of the DuPont pledge that does honor to all chemists. Better things for better living, through chemistry. I think the cavalcade of America will present the inspiring story of John Howard Payne, the man who wrote Home Sweet Home. On tonight's program, the part of Eliza Ann Brooks was played by Agnes Morel. Until next weekend at the same time, this is Thomas Chalmers saying good night and best wishes in DuPont. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.