 The Cavalcade of America, starring Jean Tierney, presented by the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Good evening. Tonight our play is called The Indigo Girl. It's a story set in Romantic, old Carolina, and our star is one of the loveliest actresses of the screen, Jean Tierney. Now, The Indigo Girl, starring Jean Tierney as Eliza Lucas on the DuPont Cavalcade of America, 1744, the docks of Charleston, South Carolina. A ship comes into port from the West Indies, bringing precious goods to the colonies. But like all ships that put into Charleston Harbor, this one too brings more than merchandise. A passenger, poor and ill-clad, timidly approaches a group of men on the horse. Saldore, Monsieur, may I inquire? Nothing today, go away. If the way to the right our way to my horse will show our heels for your Lady Bird in the first race. Oh, stutters, sheer as nonsense. Lady Bird is a man. Big question, Monsieur. But I'm looking for a... Go away. We tolerate no beggars here. But, sir, they have told me you are Monsieur Crossway. My name is Pierre Auvin. I must see you. Well, come around to the tavern later. Perhaps I can arrange for the cook to feed you at the back door. That is very kind. And he, perhaps, will have better manners. Portrait, shall I save some of the scraps for you? I've heard that overseers on plantations here are not very well-paid. You presumptuous gutters. It would seem the packets are bringing witty beggars into the country. Well, their wit doesn't disguise their filth, their vulgarity, or their insolence. Monsieur, when I spoke with a governor of Antigua and he told me to come here to work on his plantation, he did not mention that you suffered from such childish tricks of temper. Governor Lucas told you to come here? You're lying. He would have consulted me first. I have a letter introducing me to his daughter. And Miss Lucas has no interest in plantation affairs. I am the one who decides who shall work for me. Now be on your way. But, Monsieur, you heard me. Be careful how you use that whip, my ill-mannered friend. I value this nose of mine. Then keep it out of my path. You understand? Next time I won't miss. One, two, three, and one, two, three. Isn't it a graceful step, Charles? Come on, try it with me now. It's very graceful when you dance, it, Eliza, but hardly my style. Oh, what is your style? Calling on a young lady and then sitting on the verandah all afternoon lecturing her. I don't think you ever want me to have any fun, Charles. Come, come, now, you're putting me on the defensive. Well, you're a barrister, aren't you? Let's see you defend yourself. I shall have a difficult time defending myself to your father when he finds out that I've allowed you to have all your own way all this time. Oh, Nonsense, you couldn't help yourself. I've always done what I please, and I see no reason to mind you just because father's away. You'll mind me when we're married. Oh, will I? Yes, you will. You're surprisingly strong when you want to be Charles here. You make me almost forget for the stuffy provincial point of view you have about everything. I'm a little bit tired of hearing you call me provincial, Eliza. I merely agree with your father. He started this plantation with high hopes that it would provide rice to feed the colonies. I can remember when it was beautiful to look at. I should think you'd remember, too. But I don't know anything about growing rice. Mr. Pricewell's supposed to look after all that. And besides, all my friends agree there's no profit in it, anyway. It's time you learned how to make it profitable, even if you have to go out into the fields and wade in water up to your knees to find out what it's all about. Oh, Charles, that's rich. Oh, Miss Eliza. Yes, what is it, Charles? There's a man here. I'll start. Talk kind of funny talk to friends. Maybe it is. I also speak very fine English, mademoiselle. Who are you? How dare you break in on us this way? I am Pierre Aubin. I've talked with your father and Heidi. He tells me you have some small Indigo fields growing here. Yes, but they are no use to it. But they could be, mademoiselle. You could make fine blue dye from your Indigo. They're selling the markets of Europe at a price far higher than you're receiving from your rice crop. Which certainly isn't high enough to live on. Mademoiselle, do you know what the fashion is in Europe? All the great ladies are vying with each other over the fabrics dyed with Indigo. It is very expensive. I know. I can't afford it. Ah, but if you began to produce it in the colonies, the idea would spread. South Carolina might become the center of a new industry. Look, see here. I have brought a piece of brocade, dyed with my own hair. Observe what a clear, exquisite blue it is. Do you mean that you have a secret for making it? I do. And if I may begin producing the dye here, you, mademoiselle, shall have gowns as lovely as this and make both our fortunes beside. What do you think, Charles? It sounds much more exciting than wading around in rice fields up to my knees. Indigo, who knows? Perhaps this is our chance. Maybe when papa comes back, all Carolina will be thriving on Indigo dye. And, Liza, had we better investigate the man's story and the situation before a decision is made? Oh, nonsense. There you go, being a barrister again. Joshua? Yes, Miss? I believe Mr. Craswell's inside. When you bring him out here, right away. Oh, yes, Miss Liza. Are you really interested in this idea? Why not? Don't you want me to be? I think it could be the finest thing in the world. Not only for you, but for the colony. Have you wished to see me, Miss Lucas? Yes, Mr. Craswell. I want you to meet Mr. Oban. He's come to start a new industry with his Indigo dye. You must say, Monsieur, such a pleasure to meet you again without your whip. Well, Pierre, there's our Indigo field. Father had it planted just before he went away. And, obviously, no one has trouble to visit it since. You're very uncertain. Perhaps Manoiselle, but one cannot expect plans to grow unless they are nurtured, tended with great care. That's why you're here, isn't it? Come along. I'll show you the vats. I think we still have some. Mr. Craswell tried to cook some dye himself not long ago. And failed miserably. How did you know? Because, as I told you, no one here knows the secret of making true Indigo dye. Are you going to tell me the secrets here? No. And not only that, but you're overseer, Monsieur Craswell shall stay away from me while I'm at work, preferably on the opposite side of the plantation. Well, you're not only imputinent, you're positively arrogant. I am neither, and both. No, Manoiselle, I simply know what I'm talking about. Most of the time. I see. Well, if you expect to go on here, you'd better keep your opinions of yourself to yourself. And you will work under the supervision of Mr. Craswell. Take your orders from him. But, mademoiselle, this is impossible. Then I suggest that you return to Haiti and forget the entire project. Oh, no, no, no, I... Very well. It will be as you say, mademoiselle. Ah, huh? I thought as much. Oh, ben, huh? Oh, bonjour, Monsieur Craswell. I have not seen you about lately. I trust the horse racing has been kind to your purse. Are you draining that bat when I expressly told you not to? The indigo is settling. This is the precise time for draining it. Turn it off. Turn off that figure. If I do, the die is ruined. Did you hear me? Turn it off. Monsieur Craswell, the young lady depends on me to produce a perfect die. I realize you would like to see me fail. But I must do it correctly according to my formula. Oh, insulin beggar. Ever since you came here, flattering Miss Lucas, in the thinking you had some secret to make a rich nothing gone right. Miss Lucas is not concerned with becoming rich. She thinks more of the success of the colony. Bosch, the colonies are doomed and everyone knows it. I, for one, am going back to England as soon as I'm able. Well, you can, Monsieur, and good riddance. For me, I'm going to stay. There is a nearer freedom in America. And I came from Haiti to work and live. And I happen to know why you left Haiti in such haste, which I shall use at the proper time. But enough of this now. Will you turn off that spigot? No. I will not, sir. I will. Get out of my way. And just to teach you who has the wheel authority here, I think I'll erase that grin of yours for life. That twig again. You wouldn't like to go back to that prison in Port-au-Prince, would you? They beat you there, too, don't they? And nice. But it won't do you any good. In fact, I hope you try to attack me. Joshua. Joshua, come in here. You want me mad to cry as well? And get to comfortable, Joshua. Yes, yes. Tell them there's an escaped convict here. This will put in chains and deport it back to Haiti. Oh, yes, sir. I will never go back. I have done nothing I'm ashamed of, and I will never go back to the torture. Stop him. He stabbed me. Don't let him get away. Stop him. Stop him. Miss Liza, oh my goodness, you're sure looking pretty. Yeah, my nilly. My cap's straight. Even if it wasn't, you'd still look blooming. Mr. Charles is going to feel mighty set up when he sees you trailing down the stairs. No, I don't think Mr. Charles ever really sees me. Holy sees when he dreams at night a legal document and a hapiest corpus. What you saying? Never mind. I'm going down now. Fasten my stairs, will you, miss? Yes, Miss Liza, before you go. Well, wait, Mr. Charles is waiting for you. Well, I had it in my mind. You ought to know what happened at the stables this afternoon. Well, it was that Frenchman, Mr. Pierre. His dad, Mr. Claas, went right through the gizzards. What? Milly, why didn't you tell me before? I was scared to, Miss Liza, till I found out Mr. Claas well didn't die yet. That Frenchman, he run away right out into the swamp somewhere. But how did it happen? I don't know. Joshua told me they were making a big fuss over the dive that, and all of a sudden, Mr. Pierre pulled out a knife as big as the conference. And where are you going, Miss Liza? I've got to go down and tell Charles. He'll be able to do something. Oh, but I haven't got to stay fast until the end. Charles! Liza, what's wrong? Oh, Charles. Pierre's dad, Mr. Craaswell. What? He may die. But I know Pierre must have had a good reason. We've got to help. Now, wait a minute, not so fast. They had some kind of enmity between them all along. I should have known they'd be trusted. Look, Liza, no matter what it was, or whether Mr. Craaswell lives or dies, you must not take sides in this, at least until we know the facts. You're not going to be a barrister now. Why are you so upset? What does this Pierre matter to you? Charles, when he first came here, I thought his idea was good. And my vanity, my need for money made me accept it. I never thought of what he wanted or needed. This is an amazing change in you, Liza. Must be a reason for it. A human being is out in those terrible swamps somewhere frightened in need of help. Isn't that reason enough? And what help can we give him, Liza, except the assurance that he'll be given a fair trial? Oh, you don't understand. He's never known the fairness and justice. He thought he'd find it here, but so far he's seen none of it. So why should he trust us now? Liza, look at me. What's come over you? You're jealous, aren't you? And why shouldn't I be? I can think you're capable of it. Well, I am. I won't see you lose your silly little head over a man with a prison record, whose cause is nothing but trouble ever since he arrived here. I don't care what he was before he came here. He tried to live up to his side of the bargain. He's important to us now. If we're ever to start this industry, Charles, he must be here to help us. So we must help him, don't you see? The trial, except in the court of law. Law, law. Is that all you think of? I'm going out in the swamp and find him and bring him back. That's what I think of your law. You wouldn't dare go out there. Oh, wouldn't I? Well, I'm going. And don't try to follow me. Eliza. Good night, you, you apious corp of you. Coming to the Indigo Girl, starring Gene Tierney as Eliza Lucas on the Cattlegate of America, presented by the DuBont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. In the year 1744, a girl named Eliza Lucas is trying to start an Indigo dye industry on a father's plantation in South Carolina. Difficulties arose when a dye maker, Pierre Obann, who has come from the West Indies to help Eliza, quarrels with her overseer, stabs him, and disappears. Because his knowledge is essential to the creation of an Indigo industry in the colonies, Eliza determines to find Pierre and bring him back to her plantation. And in the swamps, he comes upon a deserted cabin. Pierre? Are you in here? What do you wish for me? Oh, Pierre, listen. I want you to come back with me. I'll see that they don't arrest you. I have killed a man, then, Moselle. But you haven't. Joshua says he isn't even seriously wounded. Even so. You must have heard. I have a prison record. Worse than that, I escaped from the jail. They will send me back to Haiti in chains. Not if you come back with me. I can hide you where the authorities will find you. Oh, please, trust me. Why should I? Because, Pierre, I've come to believe in you. You started something good. Something important. And I want you to see me. I'll help you all I can myself if you'll only come back. And Crasswell? I'll discharge Mr. Crasswell in the morning. Please, please. Now, do be. Very well, Moselle. I will risk it. Lies, I have to tell you that Mr. Crasswell's done gone and got you into real trouble. What are you talking about, Mille? Well, he knows, Mr. Pierre told you the secrets from making Indigo. And that's why you was hiding him here on the plantation and he's gone and told the constables. Are you sure? How do you know? Oh, Dr. Wood's got a wonderful way about him. He knows just about everything that goes on around here. Then they'll come here. They'll arrest Pierre and Mille. No, they ain't going to come. They're here right now. What? Yes, ma'am. They're strutting around a place like they owned it. Oh, Mille, why do you always take an hour to tell me anything? You there. Soja, what do you think you're doing? Ain't it a parent mist? We found this escaped convict on your property. We're drinking him into Charleston. But you can't. You haven't any right. We ever warrant for his arrest? I think that's sufficient right. Now, prisoner's already admitted that he stabbed Mr. Craswell. Haven't you, old man? I think there is no need for me to say anything. Now. Pierre, I'll do everything I can for you. I promise. You have already done enough in having me arrested. I? But you can't take that being. Can't I? It has happened, has it not? Now that you have learned a secret for making the die, what else is there to think? Goodbye, Mlle. Eliza, I can scarcely believe it. Come in, please. I hope you don't mind. Please sit down. I'm delighted to see you. Are you really? Because I need your help now, desperately. Oh, yes. They've arrested your Pierre. Eliza, no one can save him. It is guilty. But he isn't. He acted in self-defense when he stabbed Mr. Craswell. Perhaps. Charles, you must believe it. He's told you this. But there are witnesses who heard him threaten Craswell the day he first arrived in Charleston. How do you know? I'm getting my business to find out. I also discovered several other details. Which prove him guilty, I suppose? No, Eliza. I believe him to be innocent. What? I just don't understand. You see, Eliza, in law, one is supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. But to a lawyer, it's often just the opposite. Now I thought you guilty of thoughtlessness, frivolity, almost criminal negligence of the trust your father put in you when he went away. And wasn't I? I don't know, Eliza. I despaired of you. And then, suddenly, almost overnight, you changed. I thought it must be love for a man that had done this for you. And you were jealous. How could I help it? I loved you myself. Who did you? Do you? Oh, I missed you so much. I tried to reason it out, but logic didn't help. All I can say is that I want you to marry me. If I listened to your marriage proposal, will you defend the heir? You'll accept me. I said I'd listen. You drive a bargain, don't you, Eliza? Will you do it? Will you? My dear, I had already written my introductory remarks to the court. In the court, an apology. Counsel for the defense will continue with a cross-examination. All right. Mr. Kraswell, you've said that the defendant was draining the dye vat against your express orders. Now, may I ask why you gave that order? Why? Because he was going about it all wrong. He would have spoiled the entire run. You're sure of that? Of course I'm sure. And because the defendant refused to obey your orders, that run of dye was ruined? It was. Mr. Kraswell, a few minutes ago, you testified that the defendant drew a knife and stabbed you while you were both standing by the vats, arguing as to whether the spigot should be turned on or off. I assume that you stood by and watched to see whether the dye was ruined or not after you'd been stabbed. Your lordship, I object. There is a leading question. Objection sustained. Have any more questions to ask the plaintiff, counsel? No, your lordship. But I request permission of the court to call Miss Eliza Lucas to the stand. Stand down, Mr. Kraswell. Miss Lucas takes the witness stand, if you will. You swear to tell the truth? The whole truth, nothing but the truth, so here to get it. I do. Now, Miss Lucas, will you explain to the courts why you are wearing that particular gown today? How do you like my gown, your lordship? Well, it must be coming, but what does your gown to do with the case? It's a lovely shade of blue, isn't it? A real pure indigo of the kind one finds only in the West Indies. Your lordship, I object. The color of the witness's gown, and it's becoming this, are both irrelevant. She's trying to influence the court unfairly by calling attention to her beauty. Your lordship, I submit that the witness has good reason for mentioning her gown and its color. True indigo dye is important to this case. Objection of the rule, please continue, Miss Lucas. When Pierre Aubert came to my plantation and asked to be allowed to produce the dye, I was as ignorant as anyone else as to how it was done. I gave him very little encouragement and nothing to work with. Our indigo fields were in disgraceful shape. Our backs and equipment were waste. But I saw that he had a will to succeed. He had wanted to come to this country because he said it had an air of freedom. However, my overseer hated him openly. Your lordship, may I interrupt? The witness has not made one statement too irrelevant to this case. My dear sir, it seems to me the most relevant statement I could make in this case is that Pierre Aubert has brought a will to work. Strengths and a new industry to the new world. And instead of showing him that we believe in freedom of opportunity, we have betrayed him. Order, order. And as to his guilt, I can only ask you to recall both his testimony and out of my butler, Joshua. Mr. Kraswell threatened Pierre Aubert with a whip when he refused to follow his orders. Yet Pierre knew what he was doing, gentlemen. The color of my gown bears witness to that. I made the die for it thanks to Pierre's secret. Because of this knowledge, I have been able to help other planters start producing indigo so that we may all benefit, so that the colonies may become independent. Order, order. Thank you, Eliza. Your lordship, the defense rests. Order, if you please. The court inclines to the belief that the reasonable doubt in this case is established. And in accordance with the witnesses' striking plea, I strongly urge that each one of us shall be given to think before we deal unfairly in such a situation again. For herein lies our future and the nation which we hope to build. It is no remittance to the custody of Miss Lucas. His majesty's court dismissed. May I compliment you on your plea, my lady? You plead as well as Shakespeare's portion. The talent isn't mine, your lordship. Who is that? I learned it from counsel who put me in the witness' box. Charles Pinkney, my husband to be. Indeed. My felicitations, Mr. Pinkney. Thank you, your lordship. You see, in exchange for my undertaking this case, the witness has promised to be my bride. Then matter ends well for all concerned. But tell me, Miss Lucas, aren't you afraid that counsel has driven a hard bargain with you? Oh, no, your lordship. Not at all. I should have married him in any case. The next upon cavalcade, the indigo girl, was written by Virginia Radcliffe and Paul Peters. Was directed by Jack Zoller. Music was composed by Arden Cornwell, conducted by Donald Glyon. Stout Copsworth was heard as Charles Pinkney and Bob Dryden as Pierre Aubert. Next week at cavalcade time, we'll present another popular and talented star of the screen, John Lunds, in a heartwarming and beautiful story of a boy, a girl, the land, and Johnny Appleseed. And in weeks to come, you'll hear Rex Harrison, John Payne, and Madeline Carroll in future cavalcade stories. This is said Pearson speaking. Cavalcade of America comes to you each week from the stage of the Longacre Theatre on Broadway in New York, and is presented by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Gene Tierney appeared to the courtesy of 20th Century Fox, producers of The Snaked It, starring Olivia DeHadler.