 Presenting Edward G. Robinson and George Calouris in The Voice on the Stairs on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by E.I. DuPont Dinamoys and Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Before we begin our play, here's a timely hint for those who plan to redecorate a room in their home this fall. Speedyzy wall finish. One of DuPont's Better Things for Better Living will help you do it the most economical way. Most rooms can be redecorated for less than $3 because they muster in one quick coat. It thins with water and dries in an hour. Save with Speedyzy. It's Speedy. It's easy to apply. Speedyzy wall paint made by DuPont. Tonight is the third in Cavalcade's New Falls series of great radio plays. Tonight our play is called The Voice on the Stairs and stars Edward G. Robinson as Thomas Payne with George Calouris as the stranger. In later weeks Cavalcade will bring you Bob Hope, Jerry Colonna, Francis Langford, Clark Gable, and many others. Maxwell Anderson's great play, Valley Forge and Norman Corwin's The Girl Lincoln Loved. Now for tonight's Cavalcade play and your commentator, Walter Houston, who once again welcomes you to Cavalcade. And welcome indeed to Cavalcade. I want to talk tonight about a man who spoke to men and women from the depths of his heart. A man whose voice was the voice of every other freedom-loving man and woman of his time. He had a real name that we know, but man didn't call him by his real name. They called him by another nickname, common sense. He was a jack of all trades, corset maker, weaver, cobbler, and yet before he died, he was the hope and heart and the mind of a hungry tatadami that had very little except hope to fight with. And when even hope failed, he made a weapon for them out of their despair. Speaking of that future, men loved beyond themselves saying, if there be trouble, let it be in my day so that my child may have peace. That speaks the thoughts of many of us even today, in the year of 1944. And because of many other thoughts that this man put into words, we in these troubled times reach across the years to shake hands with him, to shake hands with Thomas Payne. Our cavalcade story this evening, the voice on the stairs was written by Robert L. Richards and stars Edward G. Robinson as Thomas Payne and George Caloris as the stranger. We go tonight to meet Tom Payne in New York in the year 1809 in an upstairs room in Little House on Broad Street. He lies sick and bedridden waiting for the darkness to come. His housekeeper, Madame Bonneville, speaks to him. Are you quite comfortable, Mr. Payne? Yes, yes quite, Madame Bonneville, quite, thank you. Is the, uh, front door locked? Yes, Mr. Payne. Good. I don't want to be annoyed by a lot of lunatics bursting in here as I was yesterday. Now go along. Yes, Mr. Payne. Good evening. May I come in? What? Oh, oh, good evening. Yes, yes, come in. It's been a long time, hasn't it, Mr. Payne? Let me see. Well, you came to see me last, that, uh, winter, 1776. Yes, yes, that was the last time, wasn't it? Now you come back again. Yes, to chat for an hour or two with an old friend and watch the sun go down. Watch the sun go down. You know, uh, I think I'm dying. Yes, you are, Mr. Payne. I find it hard to accept you at all sometimes. I don't believe in miracles, you know. Oh, come now, Mr. Payne, you are something of a miracle yourself. I am? Yes, you. From an impoverished tax collector to a leader of one of the great social and political movements of all the ages. Oh, enough, Mr. Payne. That's a miracle you believe in, isn't it? Well, I believe in myself, yes, but I don't believe in things I can't see. You see me sitting here, don't you? Well, come to think of it, I have never seen you distinct. Do you remember the first time? I was appearing in Parliament representing the King's excise men. Poor devils. Trying to get them better pay. It was your first real fight and you were a little frightened Parliament, the King's ministers. You were waiting to be summoned and everyone was giving you advice. Now, now, Tom, don't forget when they take you before they launch you. Yes, I know, I know, bow and scrape. Well, Tom, that's how it is. That's how it's always been. Well, you do want me to mention, I suppose, that if you don't get better wages, we shall starve. To be sure, Tom, to be sure, but delicately, delicately. Mr. Thomas Payne. I am, Mr. Thomas Payne. Their lordships will see you now, Mr. Payne. Thank you. Remember how, Tom, delicately, delicately. This way, please. We move your hat, please, Mr. Payne. Oh. My lords and ministers, the petitioner, Thomas Payne. And step up, Mr. Payne, step up. As brief as possible. I shall be brief, my lords. In all loyalty and in all humility, as Majesty's officers of excise wish to call to your lordship's attention, the fact that their wages set by law nearly 100 years ago have never once in all that time been readjusted. It is no longer possible for these officers to live modestly as honorable, self-respecting men on what they now receive. Well, for myself, I'm disinclined to hear more. If the salaries of these officers have been adequate for nearly 100 years, it's the most powerful of arguments that they are still adequate today. Am I right, my lord? Quite right. Very definitely. Yes, yes, yes. I think that will be all, Mr. Payne. Oh. Am I to understand, my lord, that this is all you have to say? Do you question our verdict, Mr. Payne? Question it. I not only question it, I question your right to render it. And before God, I shall find out one day how it is that some men are born with the right to enslave others who may not even question their enslavement. Mr. Payne, you may consider your service to the crown at an end of this day. I had already so considered it. How was it? Will the old boys give us another quitter, too? We'll give you nothing. But what did they say? They said that what was good enough for your great-grandfather was good enough for you. I'm sure they said no. Hmm. Well, come along, lads. We best be getting on. I'm sorry that I failed you. You did the best you could, Tom. We'll see you back at Lewiston. Yes. I suppose I shall be back. Good evening, Mr. Payne. Good evening. Good evening. May I speak with you? It's so dark. I'm afraid I don't recognize you. No matter. I'm sent by a countryman of yours. A countryman of mine? Yes. An American. Dr. Benjamin Franklin. Oh, well, then you mistake me, sir. I know Dr. Franklin, but it'd never been an American in my life. But you have been thinking about going to America, haven't you? Oh, yes. I know a good deal about that country, Mr. Payne. Well, Dr. Franklin has spoken to me somewhat about America. Yes, but I flatter myself that I know even more. Oh, don't misunderstand me, but you see, I have a curious knack of knowing what men will feel tomorrow. You're something of a profit, then. Well, in a small way, yes. Who are you? Time enough for that. The point is that you have been wishing that there were others who believe as you do, and that you might find them. Yes, I have wished that with all my heart. Suppose I were to tell you that there are such men in America. Who are you? You come to me speaking in riddles. How might I believe it? Because, Tom Payne, you are a man who knows the sound of truth. Listen, in their hearts, the men of America are saying this to each other, that all men are created equal, endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Do you believe that, Mr. Payne? Well, it is enough to be a battle cry for a whole new race of men. Someday it will be. If I only were sure that this is not a dream. Oh, it is a dream, Mr. Payne. But every forward step that men have ever taken since they lived in caves has started as a dream. Would I meet you again in America? Oh, often I think. Remember, Mr. Payne, I promise nothing. But this can be a beginning if you wish it. I do wish it. And, Mr. Payne, there is a ship called the London Packet leaving Monday week for Philadelphia. Come in. Come in. Oh, Mr. Payne, I was just thinking of you. You are certainly to be congratulated, sir. Oh, am I, Mr. Rayken? Do you realize, sir, that in the three months that you've been editing the Pennsylvania Magazine, its circulation has nearly trebled? And I think perhaps congratulations for that are due more to you as owner than to me as editor. Oh, come, come now, Payne. The credit is yours. Well, I meant, sir, that it's the business of an owner to be concerned about the profits of his publication. It's the business of an editor to be concerned about the content. Oh, why, yes, sir. So it is, I suppose, in a way. Well, our contents have been most unprofitable lately, Mr. Rayken. What? Well, not in my mind. Well, Mr. Rayken, there's a smell of powder in the air. There's smoldering anger on every April breeze. And we give space to men who still believe the world is flat. I will not tolerate these rumors of rebellion. I am in business. Well, I'm not. Mr. Payne, what's that? Sounds like every bell in Philadelphia. Bells? And someone be dead? No, they sound too full of joy for that. Mr. Payne, Mr. Rayken, there's been a battle. A rider has just come. The Redcoats fired on the Minutemen at Lexington. Oh, good heavens. But who won? Our men drove them back, sir. The people are talking about raising the militia. I'm going out. Maybe a few courageous men can stop it. I'm going to. Here, wait. Stop it. What do you think of that, Mr. Payne? Where did you come from? Lexington, Concord. It's all true, you know. Yes, but what's to be done about it? I thought you knew. Thirteen colonies spread along 3,000 miles of sea coast, all wanting something different. But there's one thing they have in common. Yes, if they have the sense to see it. What do you think they were? Independence. Doubtless. But how many men now in April 1775 believe as you do? Well, there are some. Some's not enough. Well, then there must be more. Someone must tell them. Someone must burn that word independence on their hearts as though it were written with a point of steel. And who's to do that? Why, I will, if no one else. Oh, so you'll become a revolutionary pamphleteer. Now become whatever I must become for the cause of freedom. Then you should know this. You'll be swept into the very vortex of it. You'll make converts, yes, but you'll make enemies as well. Men of your own time and of generations yet to come. There'll be no peace for you, Tom Payne, now or hereafter. How do you know this? Who are you? You've asked me that before. Well, is it strange that I should wish to know? Not strange, if you doubt me. Well, I didn't say that. I wonder, Mr. Payne, we've talked before and in most matters we've been congenial. And when I spoke in prophecy of those things you most desire, you accepted me. But now, when I warn you that you may fail. No, no, you're right. It's a small matter and I mean my choice. So you have. Listen. What is it? That, Mr. Payne, will someday be known as the spirit of 1776. 1776? But that's still a full eight months away. Yes. But if men will believe what you and I believe, there'll be that sort of spirit in 1776, won't by that's only common sense, isn't it, Mr. Payne? Yes. That's only common sense. You are listening to Edwin G. Robinson and George Caloris in the Voice on the Stairs on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by E.I. DuPont Dinamoor's and company of Wilmington Delaware, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Once again, here is Cavalcade's narrator, Walter Houston. Our cavalcade tonight is the story of Thomas Payne, Tom Payne, an old man sick and dying. He's been spending his last hours with a strange, yet dear and familiar friend, recalling with him, his journey from England to America in search of liberty, and recalling to the days when rebellion flared at Lexington and Concord, and he, an unknown writer, fanned the flame with his first great revolutionary pamphlet, common sense. As our play continues, the stranger speaks to Payne. Common sense. They never thought at first that the obscure editor Tom Payne wrote that pamphlet, common sense, but the words went ringing through the countryside like an alarm. Do you remember those days, Tom Payne? No more metaphysics now? Bring the doctrine of reconciliation to the touchstone of nature, and then tell me whether you can, hereafter, love, honor and faithfully serve the power that have carried fire and sword into your land. But if you say you can still pass the violations over, then I ask that your house been burned, your property destroyed, your wife and children destitute. Have you lost a parent or a child? If you have not, then you're not a judge of those who have. But if you have and can still shake hands with the murderers, then you're not worthy of the name of husband, father, friend or lover. You have the heart of a coward in the spirit of a sycophant. They listened. Yes. They listened. And they believed you, Tom Payne, and they fought for independence. But even that wasn't enough. 1776, the fall of 1776. Do you remember that? You were with the Army of General Washington. What was left of it? Poor wretches driven through the mud and sleet of northern Jersey, hungry, freezing and disheartened. And one night, the blackest night of all, you were sat with General Washington. Well, Tom Payne, we'll profit none by blinking at the facts. We're out of ammunition, out of food, and they've got us on the run. Yes, I suppose there's nothing worse in store for us, General Washington. And most of this I blame on you. On me, sir? Yes. It was your common sense that first persuaded me to independence. And I tell you that not for 20,000 pounds a year would I endure what all of us have endured for faith alone. Well, the worst of it is it's so many desertions. It's a whole company today. Where did they go? Home, I suppose, if they've still got homes to go to. Well, it's hard to blame them, sir. No, I don't blame them. I can't. Well, I'll leave you now, Mr. Payne. Maybe tomorrow. Yes, sir. We'll talk tomorrow. You staying up a while? Yes, I am, sir. I, I want to think. Well, good night, then. Good night, General. Payne, sir. Is there anything else you want? What? Oh, no, Sergeant. Thank you. And I'll go along, sir. Yes, we can go. Oh, Sergeant. Yes, sir. Didn't you tell me once that you were a farmer? Well, the way I was back in West Pennsylvania. And you left it for this? What else could a man do, Mr. Payne? I had my farm to fight for. Yes, I suppose you're right. Tell me, what do you think of things now, Sergeant? Well, the way I look at it, Mr. Payne, the leaders would tell us where we stand. Tell us the worst of us. Then tell us what to do. We'd follow you. You think it's as simple as that? You've done it before, sir. We've never stopped believing what we're fighting for. If you'll just show us how we can win, then we will. Tell them how they can win. Is there anything I can bring you, sir? Yeah, no, no, no. Thank you. And good night, sir. Good night. He's right, you know, Tom Payne. He's right. Why are you here? To tell me that I failed? No, no. Perhaps to tell you what will happen if you fail. You must write, Tom Payne. You must tell them how they can win. Yes, that's what the sergeant said. But I try. The words won't come. This is crisis, Tom Payne. The last crisis, I'm afraid. No, not the last. There'll be others. But each time hereafter that this great nation we fight for is in crisis, your words again will guide it. Nearly two centuries from now, in such a crisis as you cannot now imagine, a president of those United States will carry these words of yours into every home throughout the land to give his nation hope. All this shall happen if you triumph now. Well, why must you place this terrible responsibility upon me? I have not. The times have. Times to try men's souls. Yes, yes. Now we'll write that. Your pen, Tom Payne. Yes. These are the times that try men's souls. Good night, Mr. Payne. Good night. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will in this crisis shrink from the service of their country. But he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered. Yet we have this consolation with us that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. I call not upon a few, but upon all, up and help us lay your shoulders to the wheel. Let it be told to the future world that the city and the country alarm that one common danger came forth to meet it in to repulse it. Throw not the burden of the day upon Providence, but show your faith by your works that God may bless you. They listened. And now, Mr. Payne, after so many years, I find you here, bedridden and of a certain age. Yes, and I'm dying. Yes. But you have no regrets. No, none. And you're satisfied with all that's passed between us? Yes. And yet you never told me who you are. Oh, I think you know something. I think I could guess. I think you are what I have aspired. I think you're all I was, could be, and am, and will be. Now the day is over. The sun's gone down. Yes, at last the darkness comes. Are you ready? Yes. Give me your hand. Where are we going? Into another time. Another time? I'm old and spent. Will there be a place for me? A place for you? Always, Tom Payne, as long as men love freedom as you have. So long as they're, I'm most grateful to you. Thank you, Edward G. Robinson and George Calouris. In a moment, I want to come back and tell you about next week's cavalcade play. But right now, here's Gain Whitman speaking for the DuPont Company. There's some timely advice for you. It's about how to take care of your car this winter. Car pooling has become a vital necessity. Our government has requested that each of us using automobiles going to and from work devise the best methods for pooling the resources of the cars available to conserve gas and rubber. This is the only way that these essential war materials will last longer and go further. The number of cars on the road has declined to a low of 24 million. Our stockpile of new vehicles has been reduced to less than 30,000, a pre-war three-day supply. The transportation experts estimate that if the total number of cars on the road drops to 20 million, a breakdown in essential transportation can be expected. How much older is your car than it was a year ago? One year older? No, a lot older than that, because it's wearing out faster now. You can be proud of your car, proud of the American know-how that made it so well, and proud of yourself for keeping it in good shape. That old car of yours will just have to keep on going till the war is over. Just the same, your old car is wearing out fast. There were nearly 30 million automobiles in the United States in 1941. There are fewer than 24 million today. And the very people who use the greatest number of automobiles, farmers and industrial workers, have the oldest cars, somewhere around eight years old on the average. So be careful, freezing weather is on the way in many parts of the United States. To keep your car from being damaged, you must protect the cooling system against freezing. Ask your local dealer or serviceman to install a good antifreeze now. And before he puts it in, have him do these six things. First, clean the radiator of plugging rust, scale and dirt. DuPont cooling system cleanser is especially designed to do a good job of this. Two, check the hose connections for leaks. Three, check the water pump to prevent leakage and air suction. Four, make sure the cylinder bolts are tight. Five, make sure there are no air traps in the heater lines. Six, check the fan belt for slippage. If you drop us a postcard, we'll send you free of charge, a booklet entitled Take Care, covering all of these points and others. Take care tells you why water in some parts of the country causes more rust and scale. How you can get the most heat from your car heater and what kind of antifreeze you should use. Right to the radio section DuPont Company Wilmington 98 Delaware. The war production board realizing that America can't afford to have cars damaged by freeze ups this winter has made certain there'll be enough antifreeze to meet the real needs of every car, truck and bus owner. DuPont manufactures four antifreeze solutions. Choose the one best for your needs. Zero, war emergency zero zero X or five star. Each DuPont antifreeze will give you double protection against freezing and against rust and corrosion and zero X is not evaporating. One shot lasts all winter. All four of these good antifreeze solutions are DuPont better things for better living through chemistry. And now here is water Houston with the news about next week's cavalcade. That winter on the frozen roads, the sound of horses hooves was like gunfire. The sky was steel above the bare hills across the school till river near Philadelphia. Men lived in dugouts, huddled over fires, cursed, prayed and died. And their breeding feet stained the snow. In a fieldstone house beyond the dugouts, a tall reticent Virginian suffered as did that despairing army and for all of us Americans who have come along since then. The place was Valley Forge, the name that is synonymous with hard-bought freedom. It was the winter of 1778. The man was George Washington. Next week cavalcade brings you this immortal story in Maxwell Anderson's magnificent play Valley Forge. And I have the honor portraying General Washington. I hope you'll be with us. Thank you. May I repeat Walter Houston's invitation to join us next Monday when he will add a new portrait to his long gallery of stage and screen characters by playing the role of General Washington in Maxwell Anderson's famous play Valley Forge. In weeks to follow, you will hear other fine plays with other notable stars. Bob Hope, Jerry Cologne, and Francis Lankford were with us to reenact their recent trip to the Pacific Front. Joan Fontaine will be heard in Norman Corwin's The Girl Lincoln Loved. And Clark Gable will make his first radio appearance since his return to civilian life. The musical score on tonight's cavalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Ombrester. The cavalcade of America sponsored by E.I. DuPont Dinemours and Company of Wilmington, Delaware invites you to be with us again next week.