 American Trail, the American Trail, blazed in blood, defended in blood. Chapter 5, Samuel Slater's Machine. In the year 1789, a young man set sail from England for New York. His name was Samuel Slater. I met him soon after he came to this country. I tried to pick him during the 66 long days that took him to cross the ocean, standing there on the deck of a sailing ship, wretched, lonely, terribly homesick for his native England. He never got over that feeling, yet he never went back. In those days, Alexander Hamilton had said we should encourage the importation of new adventures from abroad. One of the men who agreed with him was a Rhode Island businessman named Moses Brown. Soon after Samuel arrived in this country, he went to Providence to see Mr. Brown. So tell me Slater, these Arkwright cotton mills in England, they must be something? Yes, they are, sir. Quite something. You worked for these fellows, Strut and Arkwright? For some time. You know we're offering a reward to anyone who can duplicate these English machines? Yes, the reward induced me to come over here. My boy, we'll see you get all the cooperation you need. You claim you can actually build one of these machines? With no trouble, sir. Oh, you have the plans, design, patents? No, no, no, you can't take plans or patents out of England. Then how and blazes? I've memorized everything. Memorized? And just how would you go about building a cotton mill in this country? Well, first of all, I'll have to find some good iron workers and carpenters, and then teach them how machine parts are made. Samuel's confidence impressed Moses Brown. He brought Samuel to Podtarket to start work on the cotton mill. That was when I met him. My father and machinist agreed to work with him, and one Sunday Samuel came to team. Do you take sugar in your tea, Mr. Slater? Very little. Oh, that's plenty. Thank you. You must be lonely over here. Well, it's an experience, and let's put it that way. How do you find people here in New England? I really haven't had time to get to know them. You don't find them friendly, do you? Well, I suppose they have to get to know me, too. You'll find they're all very nice. At the moment, they seem to resent me. When I pass them on the street, there's something in their faces. A hostility. Hostility? Oh, I'm sure it's just your imagination. But Samuel was right. Only a few days later, on the edge of town, in a small meadow where the cotton mill was being built. You, mister? Yes? My name's Manly. Timothy Manly. Well? What's going on here? It's no secret. We're building machinery. A cotton mill? Yes. I make spinning wheels and I repair them. It's hard enough for a man and his wife to make a living without seeing a machine built that'll do a man's work and take his job away. I'm warning you. If you hang around here, we'll smash you and we'll smash your machine. But the warning was ignored. Samuel worked harder than ever. He told me about the incident one Saturday afternoon. We were walking along one of the little cobblestone streets past the blacksmith's shop that I remember so well. I've seen this sort of thing before, in England. Fear of a cotton mill. I saw a mob actually destroy one. You think it could happen here? It could. What a dreadful thought. Look at the way people stare at me. If you weren't with me, they'd probably stone me. Hot mummies. Hot mummies. That sounds like England. And the cottage on the corner. The sacked roof. The little garden and the water pump in the square. It's all so much like a little bit of England. Oh, here's the funnel. Still hanging around here, Mr. Slater. We'll discuss it another time, Mr. Manley. Suddenly the cotton mill was finished. All it remained to do was test the machinery. Moses Brown, my father, a lot of other people came to see the machine actually work. I stood with them. A little frightened. Sam, blast me, but this machine of yours is a queer-looking monster. Ah, she's beautiful. And we're supposed to believe it'll work. It will. That mess of wire, metal, and wood will spin cotton? Yes, sir. Show me. I believe this when I see it. We were all very, very nervous as Samuel walked away from us. I watched him pull back some levers. My glory. It's working. Sam, you've done it, boy. We've got a cotton mill. What's that? What was that? Summoner thrown a stone through a window. Outside the mill, a mob of angry men and women were gathered. All right, Slater. You had your warning. I wouldn't come any closer, Manley. I told you what we do. Now we're going to do it. Get back. Manley, you try anything. We'll put you in jail. You won't live to see that, Mr. Brown. Destroy anything and we'll build it again and get soldiers to guard it. We're not scared of soldiers. Listen to me, all of you. We didn't come here to talk. Now listen. The machine will give everybody a job. I'll have to teach you how to run it. Why, we'll produce more cotton in one week than you've seen in a lifetime. I saw them staring at Samuel. Most of them wanted to listen. Only a few doubted what he was telling them. And we can sell cheaper. The demand for machine-made cotton will increase. That'll mean still more jobs. Slater, you can't prove any of this. It's been proved in England. My machine's just like this one. And English cotton is being sold all over the world. All right. All right, Slater. We'll give you a chance. The mill started working. People from all over the country came to see this wonder of the age. Samuel and I were married. And as time went on, we were blessed with a baby son. And it seemed to us that nothing would ever spoil our happiness. And then... Sam, Sam, we're in trouble. You worry too much about trouble, Moses. I'm serious, Sam. Something we hadn't counted on. American people prefer foreign goods. They won't buy our cotton. That doesn't make common sense. Oh, that's how things are. Then we'll fight this foreign competition. How? How? We'll produce more cotton. Lower prices, flood the market. We'll be ruined. If we do that, we'll be ruined if we don't. They manufactured more cotton than seemed possible. Samuel called it past production. He worked day and night finding ways to improve his machine. I seldom saw him. One cold winter night. We lost our little son. He died of pneumonia. In the dreadful days that followed, I began to know my husband better than I'd ever known him before. Our little boy is not really gone. The love he had for us. The love we had for him. It's all about us. Though he were just in the next room. Out of sight. But still here. I know. Lately I've been thinking about the children of this town. Someday I'd like to do something for them. In memory of our boy. Do something? Hannah. Do you know what a Sunday school is? No. We must build one. A place where the children of the town can be taught an understanding of God. Where they can have religious training. I don't think there is such a place in the country. There will be, Hannah. Samuel built his Sunday school. The first one this country had ever seen. Now he was part of the town. Bitterness against him had turned to respect and fondness. The people in this part of the country liked his hard-headedness and his straightforward belief in decency. Sometimes I think the working people understood Samuel better than our close friends did. Tim Manley did. I was looking for Mr. Slater. Come back another time. You don't like me. No, I've got a good memory. I wouldn't have given you a job the way Sam Slater did. Oh, maybe not, but... Oh, hello, Mr. Slater. Good morning. Hello, Sam. I'd like a word with you, Mr. Slater. Yes, go ahead. I'm quitting my job. All right. I've got something else to say. I'm listening. We know as much about your machine as you do. You sure? We all do. Sam Slater taught you. He taught the whole bunch of you. He taught us. That don't mean we're tied to him. Somebody taught me. I didn't stay tied to them. That's the way it is with us. What are you driving at, Manley? Me and some others. We're going off to build a cotton mill of our own. What? Sam, you heard what he said? I heard. All right, Mr. Slater. What are you going to do about it? Do? I'll tell you what we're going to do, Manley. We'll slap you in jail. I'd like to see that. Don't you stand there grinning at me, you common thief. I'm no thief. You're worse than one. Why, you won't you raise your hand on me. I'll break your head with this cane. May I say something now? Say what you like. It won't make no difference. Get out. Get out and build your cotton mill. You and your friends. Build your mill, and I'll help you. What's that? This one mill can't meet the demand. We'll need all the mills we can get if we want to put American cotton on the world market. So they broke from Samuel, this little group of New England men. Soon others had the same idea, and from all parts of the country we heard of more and more mills being constructed. That's the end of Samuel's story. Except that one evening... Samuel? What is it? Has something happened? War's been cleared. War? With England. Oh, Samuel. Whatever I contributed when I came here, I found opportunity. Whatever I gave, much more has been given to me. I love the memory of the country I came from, and I always will. But I've made my home here, and this is my country. But the war of 1812 drew to an end, and the United States again looked into the future, this time into an era that saw the rise of American industry as it spread from New England all across the country. The story of Samuel Slater, the father of American manufacturing, is an American story. Whatever he gave, this country gave much more in return. And no man knew that better than Samuel Slater. This has been the fifth chapter in the story of the American nation brought to you by the ladies' auxiliary to the veterans of foreign wars. Another story to make you proud of this great country of ours as we follow the American trail.