 The Cavalcade of America, presented by Dupont. This evening the Dupont Cavalcade brings us the story of Captain Robert Gray, American navigator, whose discovery of the Columbia River gave the United States one of its strongest claims, the Great Oregon Territory, the lands which now make up the three states of Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. For the benefit of listeners who want added information about the stories of chemistry presented on these broadcasts, Dupont recently offered free copies of a 32-page booklet, Chemistry and You. If you haven't written as yet for your copy, do so, while the supply lasts. Just address Dupont, Wilmington, Delaware. Tomorrow will be St. Patrick's Day. So in its honor, Don Voorhees and the Dupont Cavalcade Orchestra play as an overture, signed alone from Victor Herbert's Irish operetta, Eileen. In 1755, from an early age, he followed the sea. Our story begins in the year 1787, when Robert Gray and another sea captain, John Kendrick, are summoned to a famous Boston Tavern, a bunch of grapes, by one of the city's prominent positions, Dr. Thomas Bolfinch. Come in, Captain Kendrick. Come in, Captain Gray. I want you to meet these gentlemen. Mr. Joseph Burrell. Gentlemen. How do you do, sir? Mr. Earl Hatch. How do you do? Mr. Samuel Brown. How do you do? Mr. John Debbie. How do you do, sir? And Mr. John Fentard. How do you do? We call ourselves the Boston Marine Association. And Mr. Burrell, will you act as spokesman? If that is satisfactory to you, other gentlemen. Very good. Well, then, sit down. We'll get down to business. We have excellent report of your bravery and your ability as seamen. We have therefore selected you for an important mission. Have you by any chance read the report of the British captain Cook and his recent voice specific close to this continent? No, sir. I've heard of the voice, sir, but I've read no report. You should do so, gentlemen. Captain Cook reports that the natives in that region trap enormous numbers of sea otters whose pelts are worth from $80 to $100 a piece. And they can secure these pelts by trading almost any manufactured article, knives and axes, pieces of cheap jewelry. This is a rich harvest to be reaped by those who get their first. And we propose to be the first. As I understand it, gentlemen, we're to sail to the Pacific coast, trade for furs, and return to Boston when we're full load. No, no, not exactly. You are to take the furs to China, where they will command a higher price than hereabouts. There you will trade them for Bohir tea, which is cheap in China, but very dear in Boston. And if we accept this commission, what chips are we to take? You, Captain Kendrick, are to command the 220-ton ship Columbia, now being built a situate. And you, Captain Gray, are to command the 90-ton sloop Lady Washington. But which of us is to be in command? Well, it seemed to us that since you, Captain Kendrick, are the older man and have presumably had more experience, you should be placed in command of the expedition. Is this acceptable to you, Captain Gray? Why, yes, sir. And you, Captain Kendrick? Of course, sir. Then that settles. We count on you two men to undertake the voyage, provided, of course, that such details as pay, equipment, and so forth can be satisfactorily arranged, as I know they can. Yes, sir. There's one thing more. While our primary purpose is to trade for furs and tea, and to make money, we should also like to give our country a claim to these western lands. But, sir, haven't the Spaniards, the English, and the French already touched those shores? We can't disregard their claim. We can, if we can establish a better claim for ourselves. If, for instance, we can find an important undiscovered river and lay a claim to that, the United States will have an unshakable claim to that river and all the land it drains. What is there such a river? Seems most unlikely, if such a river flowed into Pacific, someone would surely have found it and claimed it long ago. Perhaps Cook himself says there is none. But Jonathan Carver, who went among the Indians of the Mississippi Valley 20 years ago, heard tales of a mighty river flowing westward to the sea. The Indians called it the Oregon, and I, for one, believe it's there. And where to find and claim this river? Yes, if you can. The furs and tea mean much to us. But the river means even more to the United States. Captain Robert Gray and Captain John Kendrick set out from Boston on October 1st, 1787. Exactly six months later, on April 1st, we find the two ships bucking a terrific storm off the southern tip of South America. On the quarter-deck of a Lady Washington, second mate Robert Haswell is doing his best to talk to his Captain Robert Gray. Columbia's got almost out of sight of stern, Captain Gray. Was the train out to lose sight of her? I wouldn't hurt my feelings if she dropped entirely out of sight. You mustn't show your feelings to Robert Haswell. I ask that you be transferred to this ship at the Cape Birdie Islands because I can see that you and Captain Kendrick were not getting along well. But he's our commanding officer, and we must follow his orders. He's cheating the owners. That's what he is, sir. Six weeks at the Cape Birdie Islands, doing nothing. Four weeks at the Falklands. He doesn't care if we ever get to Nootka Sound. I wish you were in charge, sir. Ah, such talk does no good, Mr. Haswell. Captain Kendrick's doing what seems right to him. He has a reputation of being an able commander. Well, no good officer would strike his mate if he struck me. He wanted me to head him back so he could lock me up or hang me. If you hadn't taken me on, sir, he'd have goaded me to doing it. That enough, Mr. Haswell. Captain Kendrick ordered me to keep the ship together. I'm going to try and carry out his orders. Yes, sir. If I may say so, sir, I doubt if anyone could in this storm, a falling father is turned every minute. Breakers. Cold water. Where are the workers? Ship them out! Hazel, give a hand with the wheels. Set the course. West, west. Aye, sir. West, west. And this course, old Kendrick, will never find us. When the storm at last blew itself out, Captain Kendrick and the Columbia were nowhere to be seen. Captain Gray, therefore, set his course to the north and sailed for Nutka Sound in the present Vancouver Island on the west coast of North America, a pre-arranged rendezvous in case of separation. Though the season was late, Gray followed the instructions of the ship owners and seven weeks of training with the Indians produced a fair cargo of furs. For these on board, Captain Gray is preparing to sail for China. Step lively there! Get those furs below! Want to spend the winter here? Not me, I don't. No, sir. Maybe at China. Oh, Mr. Hazel. Loading nearly finished? Almost, sir. I hope we'll finish it in time to sail with the next high tide, sir. I hate to sail before we hear from the Columbia. It should have been here weeks ago. Not with Captain Kendrick in command. Probably at the bottom of the Pacific. Captain Gray, look there. Beyond the point. Speak to the devil. Ship, but give him a glad. Yes, sir. Is it? Huh? It's the Columbia. I can see Captain Kendrick on the quarter deck. He's taken a long time to get here, sir. Wonder what he plans to do now? Well, we'll soon find out. Don't we sail, sir? Certainly not, Mr. Hazel. Captain Kendrick's in command. We'll wait for his orders. These plans to sail for China were changed at Kendrick's orders. Instead of setting out to market the furs already collected, Kendrick insisted that the two ships pass the winter at Newt-Cassau. Making the best of a bad situation, Gray spent his time overhauling the Lady Washington in preparation for the next year's work. But Kendrick made no move to do the same for the Columbia. Then one day in July, 1789, Captain Kendrick called Captain Gray to his cabin on the Columbia. You sent for me, sir? Yes, Captain Gray, I did. We've a fair cargo furs stored up. Are we not? Yes, sir. I've about 1,700 furs in the middling, about 300 of them. In collecting these furs, you seem to be somewhat ahead of me. Ahead of you, sir? My memory doesn't fail me. You collected none of them. In fact, sir, if I may be pardoned for saying so, you haven't made a trading clue since you arrived. Well, you're right about that. But I shall, I shall. In fact, I'm about to start a trading clue along the coast. But, sir, how can you? The Columbia's not been overhauled. She's not fit for service. No, she's not, but my other ship, the Lady Washington, fit for tea. Your other? Why, yes, sir. You see, I'll take the Lady Washington and you can take the Columbia. When you've overhauled her, you can take the 1,000 first to China and trade there for tea as you were going to do last fall. But, sir, the season's right for trading. It could be a dreadful waste for me to cross the ocean now and sell this little load of pearls. We both should stay in trade and travel when the season's over. Mr. Gray, I am in command. You'll do as I say. I have my reasons, which I have no need to discuss with you. Yes, sir. I'm sure you have the best of reasons. Certainly, you couldn't be seizing this opportunity to hide your own lack of efforts at the owner's expense by putting me out of the way while you've elated to gather first to even up the score. No, I'm sure that couldn't be a thought. Gray, you're insolent. You'll strike me as you did for Hazwell, knowing that it's mutiny to return the blow. It's mutiny to disobey. I shan't disobey. I'll take the first to China and I wish you well in your trading, not for your sake, of course, but for the owner's. The Lady Washington is yours. Following Kendrick's orders, Gray sailed the overall Columbia to China and there traded his furs for 600 chests of tea and then sailed south around the tip of Africa and northwestward across the Atlantic to Boston, choosing this route simply because it was the nearer. On August 10th, 1790, the Columbia sailed slowly up Boston Harbour. Certainly seems good to be back home in Boston, Captain Gray. And the old town looks the same from here, Mr. Hazwell. All of these mighty goods. I hate to face the owners with so small a return. They might have had several thousand chests of tea instead of just 600. Hey, what's that? A cannon, the fork. See the cloud of smoke? Yes. But why? What are they firing at? Sure, I don't know. There it is again. Now, what do you... There's someone in the little boat hailing us. Oh-ho! Burrell, one of the owners. Oh-ho! I'll throw the line as we pass him. Ready, sir? Yeah, here it is. Drop the ladder. Yes, sir. Yes, Mr. Burrell. All right now. Welcome, Captain Gray. Welcome back to Boston. Thank you, sir. I'm sorry that we haven't brought you more return. Never mind that now. You must prepare yourself for the celebration. Celebration? What celebration? What's happened? What are those cannon shots, Mr. Burrell? Why, why they're saluting you. Didn't you know it? Saluting me. Why, what? My boy, you don't seem to realize it. But you carried the stars and stripes around the world for the first time. The Jellan, Drake, Cook, and now Captain Robert Gray. Around the world. My hurry to get home, I hardly realize it. To Captain Gray's amazement, all Boston turned out to do a mommage for his voyage around the world. Even the owners, though disappointed in the trading, were impressed and decided to back him on another expedition, this time in sole command. So on September 28th, 1790, the Columbia once more sailed for the northwest coast of North America, where it arrives early in June, 1790 watts. It has moved. Look beyond there, off the sovereign bow. I see nothing, sir, except the shore. See what I'm pointing? Is there not an opening in the shore? Is there a river poured into the ocean there? Perhaps a river. More likely a baser. Breakers are foaming all across it. Now we're bearing close and have a look. Only that might prove to be the river of the west that Carver spoke of. Well, it can't be that, sir. It's worse if someone else would have found it long ago. And it is an indentation, though. I'm going to try to force an entrance. Captain Gray, it's dangerous. See, it's rough on the breakers, show the water shallow there. It will strike and pound the pieces. The river of the west will be a chance worth taking. Stand by the lower of the finish. You'll send the finish on the head, sir? Yes. The Du Bois. Du Bois. You'll take the finish out of head and sound the entrance to that bay or river mouth. We'll follow your signals and your lead. The day, sir, in that, sir? The day at once. Yes, sir. At once. Halvin, bring her up and in the wind. Aye, sir. I don't know whether it's a river or a bay, Mr. Hazel, but we're going to find out. For nine days, Captain Gray tried in vain to fast the line of breakers and thawed the riddle of the indentation on the coast. After many near disasters, he at last gave up and continued on his way. Early the next spring, cruising near the mysterious indentation, Gray came upon the British ship Discovery, commanded by Captain George Vancouver. The two captains confer in Gray's captain on the Columbia. So, you see, Captain Gray, we have as yet made no discoveries worthy of note. He sailed along the coast for nearly 250 leagues, seen no appearance of any opening in its shores. That's very strange. Last summer at latitude 4610 North, I found the entrance of what I took to be a sizable river. That nine days trying to get in was good because of the surf of shallow water. 4610, you say? Nine days, you say? What's so amusing about that? I failed to see a jest in nine days wasted in the surf. No jest, you say? And you Americans say we English have no sense of humor. Well? Why, man, that was no river. It was Deception Bay, named years ago by Captain Mayors, who made the same attempt you did. What? So, that's your great discovery, eh? Why, less than two days back, I myself passed the bay and observed it well. Well, did you get your ship inside the breaker? Inside the breaker? Let you know, I knew better. I wouldn't waste nine days repeating Mayor's mistake. And yours. Ho, ho, ho. Nettled by Vancouver's laughter and still unconvinced, Gray set his course to the south, and in the morning of May 11, found himself once more off the foaming mouth of the indentation. Swinging out to sea in a great circle, he turns the bow of his ship squarely toward the line of breaker. Captain Gray, what are you about, sir? Going in with the hassle. Why can't I? Who to stop me? The piece is on that bar. Chance we run. Hortons with us, we can ride one of those comers in. Over a bar and one half, have them three of water, sir? Whenever. Well, I'm going to try. Deception bay, indeed. I'll prove Vancouver's wrong. Breakers! You'll kill us also? Don't argue, Mr. Hatchwell. My mind's made up. You still can turn, sir. I'll not turn. The cruise alarm, sir. They'll stick to their posts. They've faith in me. And so have I, sir, but then choice. I'll turn now so the breakers are right before us. Hold your calls, Townsman. Ready to go. Aye, aye, sir. Pull hard. We're going to hit. We never stretcher. We're through. Townsman, bring her into the wind. Stand by to drop the anchor. Over with the bucket. Give up tomorrow. Yes, sir. Over with the bucket. Hatchwell, it's fresh. See for yourself. Yes, sir. Oh, yes. It is fresh, Captain Gray. That means we found the river. Men, gather up here. Hurry. We made a most important discovery. This is no bay, but a mighty river. And ours is the first ship to sail upon it. In the name of the United States of America, I hereby claim this river and all the lands it drains. And I bestow upon it the name of our own launch ship, the Columbia. Captain Robert Gray's discovery of the Columbia River gave the United States an iron-bound claim to the Oregon country, a claim which Great Britain formally recognized in the Oregon Treaty of 1846. To this bold seaman, we are largely indebted for the lands occupied by the three great states in the northwestern corner of our country. DuPont salutes Captain Robert Gray as a brave leader in the cavalcade of America. By presidential proclamation, next week has been named National Wildlife Restoration Week, an occasion for us all to cooperate in restoring our country's wildlife, whether it wears furs, feathers, or fins, or even the green of field and forest. America's wildlife is vanishing because man is upset nature's delicate balance. By thoughtlessly removing natural vegetation and destroying animal life, we Americans have brought about such catastrophes as floods, dust storms, soil erosion, and water shortage, as well as a decrease in wildlife of every sort. Every one of us has a direct personal interest in the work of restoring and protecting America's wildlife resources. When you restore for wildlife, you restore for man. Every form of wildlife plays some part in our struggle for existence. Consider the beaver, for example. In damming streams to protect his houses, he builds reservoirs that save water, stop the rush of streams, and cause rich soil to settle instead of being carried away to the sea. In many areas in the West, when beavers were trapped out, ponds and lakes dried up. Valleys once covered with grass were turned into desert, allowing soil erosion to set in. Such erosion has helped create the dust bowl area, which is a devastating portion of our country. Today as part of the Wildlife Restoration Program, beavers are captured in farming districts where they don't belong, and are taken to the headwaters of streams in the drier, forested region. Here in a natural habitat, the busy beavers once more can build their small storage reservoirs that will help us regain a squandered wealth. Other creatures perform other valuable tasks. Good soil depends largely on the animals that live in the soil, yes, even to the tiny field mouth. By burrowing and living in the earth, animals such as rodents actually cultivate it, give it air, fertilize it, and increase its water-holding capacity. Among the many birds that are being restored by this great wildlife movement is the bobwhite. A tireless destroyer of insects and weed seeds, the bobwhite is also one of the first native birds to cultivate a taste for the dreaded Japanese beetle. And not to be forgotten are the fish in American streams along our coastline. Slowly but surely stream pollution is being checked, and our rivers and brooks are being made fit places for fish to live in. Recently, for example, the state of Wisconsin refused permission for a dam across the Potato River, a beautiful trout stream, because disturbing the natural flow of the river would have endangered fish life. A few years ago, an organization called the General Wildlife Federation was established in Washington, D.C. to cooperate with everyone who wants to preserve the animals, birds, fish, and forests of our native land. DuPont is proud to play a part in calling attention to the aims and ideals behind this worthy movement, which will find expression throughout North America in Wildlife Restoration Week beginning next Monday. You may help in this work by buying the beautiful stamps reproducing some of America's game birds and animals in full color, now being offered for use on your letters and packages. As a salute to Wildlife Week, John James Audubon, painter and naturalist, will be the subject of our broadcast when next week, at the same time, DuPont again presents the Cattle Cade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.