 The American Trail. The American Trail. Blazed in blood. Defended in blood. Chapter 7. The Magic Wire. Washington, D.C. The night of March 2nd, 1844. The shabby figure moves away from the shadows of the Senate building. It doesn't matter much who he is. Some crackpot that would be invented. You see all kinds in Washington. Cap, you want a cap, mister? Thank you, no. Well, if it ain't the professor, you're not sociable, professor. Say, is it right you want the Congress to give you $30,000 to approve your invention works? Don't tell me they're not going to give you the money. Think, head adult. A man to be laughed at, he's a big joke around Washington. Morse. Professor Samuel Finlay Breece Morse invented something he calls the telegraph. And nobody seems to care. Senators, Congress went 12 years of talking to them. They know my telegraph works. They've seen it work from one room to another. Why won't they believe it'll work over a long distance? Why won't they let me have the money to prove it? It's for the country's benefit. Well, if he didn't get the money appropriated tonight, he may as well give up. Congress adjourns tonight. So the man's come home. For what he's called home for several months. A big white colonial type house. Belongs to a government official who went to school with Morse. Commissioner of Pattons, Ellsworth. Morse has been a house guest for several months. A big square for the winding staircase. Rich carpet. Good painting. The professor walks upstairs. His room is on the second floor. Wash stand. Brighting desk. Everything in very good taste. Besides a man has to live somewhere. A cheap lodging house. A park bench. A grand mentality of a friend. Call it charity. The professor takes off his coat. Sits down on the edge of the bed. 53 years old. And a failure. A lifetime of failure. Yes? It's me, professor. Oh, just a moment. Let me put a jacket on. Annie Ellsworth. Daughter of the commissioner. Beautiful. Sorry I kept you waiting. I waited up, I heard you come in. Did Congress? You haven't had any food have you? There's a tray of sandwiches in the parlor. You must eat. The parlor is cozy enough. Nice fire burning. Silver coffee pot. Chicken sandwiches. But the man just sits there brooding. Staring into the fire. The girl watches him. I was thinking of 30 years ago. Long, long before you were born. I was just out of Yale. I was going to become immortal. As an artist. I went to London to study. I know. I did well. I won a gold medal. In the future once. What happened to it? The telegraph is your future. It must be. You mustn't give it up. Annie. Annie, life is so unreal just now. I've been married. I lost my wife. I have grown up children. My oldest daughter is your age. The girl says goodnight. The man is alone. Restless. Gone from nothing. A dream. An ambition. Solved into futility. While it's no use thinking of sleep. May as well go out. Out into the cold, hostile Washington night. And just walk. It doesn't matter how far. Raining now. Cold and raw. The man shibbry. But doesn't care. Cobblestone Street. A few years ago. A house. Gone now. Only darkness. Darkness and the icy rain. Something ahead. Pale misty against the night. A little white colonial church. One is able to sit there. As simple as that. A lot of money. An end to all financial worry. He could have gone back to his painting. A rich man. Able to paint at leisure. But now what? He hasn't a penny in the world. And he has a family of children to support. He walks home again. Bitterness gone. Resentment. Despair. All gone. His mind. Relax. Why hadn't he come to this before? Annie, good morning. I beg father to let me tell you. To tell me? Like Samuel, they voted you the money. $30,000. Right after you left there. I must... I must let Alfred know. Alfred Bale. Former art student at New York University where Professor Morse once talked. Bale who had encouraged and helped Morse finish the invention. Bale who must now hasten to Washington. Alfred. We must get to work. A shallow trench to be dug from Washington to Baltimore. The laying of the wire. Testing, testing, testing. As each length of cable is buried in the trench. The signal must be tested. How far does it carry? The signal is not getting through. There's something wrong. Dread of failure. This man who has known little else all his life. Ask Mr. Bale to come here. Stop work. This trench is no good to us. We can't bury the wire. It won't work. So the telegraph wire has to be left in the open. Strung up on poles. All the way from Washington to Baltimore the wire must be carried overhead. Again, testing, testing, testing. The telegraph instrument is in a tent beside the road. Morse has become nervous these days. About a mile along the road Alfred Bale should be receiving a test signal. Answer! The signal is not getting through. If he fails, the man will be a laughing stock. Every day a crisis. The certainty of failure. Night and day without rest, without mercy to himself or those above him. A problem is met. Overcome. Another takes its place. Mile upon mile of wire. Stretching from Washington toward Baltimore. The big day has come. A room in the Supreme Court Building. Government officials. Friends. Commissioner Ellsworth. His daughter, Annie. All there to see the telegraph tested over a distance of 30 miles. This is it. Samuel. Don't worry. Can anything go wrong? No, nothing can go wrong. Nothing. Gentlemen. Gentlemen, please. Alfred Bale is in Baltimore. Waiting to receive the message, I'm going to send it. Having received it, he will send the same message back to this room. Your attention, please. Morse starting to tap out the message. At this very moment, Alfred Bale is receiving the message. In a matter of seconds now, he will send it back to us. Looking at you. Heaven's name, a moment of patience. Gentlemen. Gentlemen, this instrument is is now recording encode the message that Alfred Bale is sending from Baltimore. Oh, it's working. Hasn't Morse been saying it does for 12 long years? The government official familiar with the code translates the message as it comes in. He seems unable to realize the enormity of the moment. Annie Ellsworth takes the slip of paper from his hand. A message soon to be heard around the entire world as a new era of rapid communications began. Continents a few seconds apart, no longer was it necessary for an urgent message to take uncertain weeks by boat or stagecoach. Men built a telegraph cable across the American continent, across the Atlantic, around the globe. A magic wire that linked the world. This has been the seventh chapter in the story of the American nation brought to you by the ladies' auxiliary to the veterans of foreign wars. We take another story to make you proud of this great country of ours as we follow the American Trail.