 DuPont presents the Cavalcade of America. A recent survey of the listeners to these programs in the Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont disclosed a number of interesting things. One of them was that of the several million people listening every Wednesday evening, about 81% are adults and about 19% children. In connection with the interest taken by boys and girls of school age, we recently received an interesting comment from the executive secretary of a state civic league. As I go about the state meeting with various organizations, I continue to hear high praise of Cavalcade. One mother of several children told me she invited the neighborhood children to come in each week to hear Cavalcade, making quite a social event of it. She believes that listening to a program of such high caliber will help the children develop high standards of appreciation as radio listeners. It gratifies DuPont to know that the Cavalcade of America is considered one of radio's better programs. Certainly, this result is closely related in spirit to the phrase used by DuPont Chemists, better thing for better living through chemistry. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra plays as an overture, Victor Herbert's famous Panamericana, manned by natives. Looks like it, out here in the middle of the jungle. Looks like he's fishing. Gold miners, huh? I must be nearly the only person going to California who isn't. I'm poking about with this hook because I've lost the most valuable part of my bankage overboard. Good heaven. See it, just below the surface. Some kind of machine, isn't it? A gold mining machine? We'll salvage it, Mr. for shares. It's a printing press, gentlemen. What in our nation's name you bring in a printing press or a gold rush? Maybe knows a way to mint metal with it. Come on, Bristol, the sun's touched you. No, no, wait a minute. Look here, Mr. Ames. I think it's too bad you've lost your press, but you mustn't stay out here in this swampy water looking for it. You might get tropical fever. I can't go away and leave it, sir. I spent all my money buying it in New Orleans. The citizens of San Diego are waiting for me to come. This press will put out one of the first newspapers on the West Coast. You mean if you get it off the bottom of the chagriss? Let's get on, Bristol. Mr. Ames, if you're a smart man, you'll get into this canoe with us and let us help you at the pan of my city. If you don't come now, chances are you'll miss out on all the good mining claims. Thank you, gentlemen. I won't forget your kindness. But I must stay with my press. Well, let's go then. Push it off, boys. Now, pull away. Pull fast. Perhaps it is wise of you ghosts, Mr. Ames. We're not going to gather this big machine out of the river. We'll get it all right. Hold my hand while I lower myself in the water here. There you are. Yeah. The water is certainly slimy. I'll take a deep breath and go under. See you back and tug at it under water. He's strong as an ox, Mr. Ames. We'll get it yet. Hey, he has it. That's right. That's right. That's right. That's right. The coastal town of Panama City. Joseph Bristol and Len Carr again meet with John Judson Ames, whom they had left fishing for his printing press and the Shagress River. Well, John Judson Ames. That's right, sir. Meet again. You remember my name. Oh, what's the matter with you? Why, you don't look human. I lost weight out on that river, and now I've just finished walking over the mountain from Galgona. Look what I brought with me. Why, are all those little donkeys yours? One, two, ten of them. Look what's on their backs. My printing press. I had a terrible time fishing it out of that river, and then when I got it to Galgona, I found I had to take it apart to get it over the mountain. And you've got it on all those donkeys? Well, much of the matter. Nothing. But Carr and I were worrying our heads off, wondering what had happened to you. And here you got into a pan of my city before we even caught a boat. I've got to get a ticket on that packet tonight. Where's the steamship over there? Down the speed of waves, we'll take you. They've raised the rates on tickets again. Five hundred dollars now to San Francisco. Five hundred dollars? Haven't you got that much, Ames? It took so much to pay off the natives and buy the burst. Let me go north for three hundred dollars. There's not a chance they will. If I had the money, I'd loan it to you, Ames. I don't see how you're going to get anywhere on three hundred dollars. I'll get to San Francisco. I've got to figure it out. Is there a newspaper here in Panama City? In this place? There's just a collection of mud-heart things full of Americans waiting for the boat. Even a tent city needs a newspaper. It gives a commuted spirit. One issue of a newspaper is that you two have got to help me. For play, of course. For nothing, Ames. But you don't even know our name. I'm Joe Bristol, and this is Len Carr. We'll do whatever we can, of course. Thanks, Bristol. Then you find a Spaniard that can write. Part of my paper will be in Spanish. Then you go up to every American in town that will talk to you and ask him for the news out of his letters from home. That'll give us news from all over America. For Pete's sake, tell him what it's for. Community Enterprise. And, Carr, you show me where your tent is. We'll start putting this press together. I want to get out on issue by the next boat. John Ames, with the help of his new found friend, sent off his press in Panama City. A few days later, outside the tent office of the Panama City Herald, where a delighted crowd is gathered, most of them reading newspapers. Hey, here's an item from my hometown. Listen. It's Saginaw, Michigan. Burke Kellogg's prized cow Bella gave 30 quarts of milk the week of July 1st. It's believed to be a record for this part of the county. Congratulations, Bella. Where's the newspaper office? Right inside, friend. You'd better hurry, though. They're running off another edition, but it's going like hot cake. I've got to get a copy. You know, I kind of like this editorial on Flaps the Mosquito. Hey, here's Mr. Ames himself. Oh, Mr. Ames. I'm glad you like it, folks. Can I get through to the office? Right through here. Yeah, thanks, thanks. Hello, Bristol. How'd it work? Ames, come on in. Guess how much cash we've taken in just since you stepped out. $50. You've got enough for your passage now? Sure. Just a question of getting the press aboard. The ticket agent from the steamship line has been waiting to talk to you. This is Mr. Armana, a Senor Ames. Senor Armana? Welcome to the office of the Panama City Herald. And I'm proud I am to read a wonderful article about our ship that sails tomorrow. Senor Armana, how would you like several more free advertisements about your ship than the first issues of a new paper in San Diego? Oh, Senor, that would be splendid. It would help your business, wouldn't it? Without doubt. Then would you transport my printing press there free of charge in return for advertisements? Senor, because I hear something of your story, I admire you. You give me the advertisement and the printing press may go north free. John Judson Ames got his press to California and published one of the first newspapers in the Southwest, the San Diego Herald. The Herald held its own for about ten years. But the southern coast cities of California had not grown as fast as Ames had hoped. And finally, he reluctantly moved his press to the gold camps. In 1851, in San Bernardino, in a small rough shack, John Ames lies ill. And a friend, Edwin Sherman, sits by his bedside. Sherman? Are you still here? Yes, I'm here, Ames. Hey, I hate to quit. Now, Ames, you haven't got the strength to put out a paper anymore. You've messed two issues now. Couldn't help it. Sherman, do you still want to buy my press? Well, sure, I do, Ames. I don't know where I'm going to find the press if you won't sell. Well, I've got to ask you a few questions first. Get that Bible over there. Sure, sure. There you are. Now, put your hand on it. Yes. First, are you for Abe Lincoln? You know I'm a Lincoln supporter, Ames. No, you are. Will you be all the time, no matter what happens, no matter how many people run him down, will your newspaper favor him? Yes, Ames. I promise. If I die, and you break that promise, you can trust me, Ames. I've worked hard, Sherman. Not much success. I had a big newspaper in a little town. Towns didn't grow as fast as I thought, but they will. This west is a fine country. Yes, I know. That's why I want to take your press over into Nevada. Take it, Sherman. You can do more good now than I can. Thank you. Ames, I'd like you to listen to this dedication for my first edition. The press on which this newspaper is printed has braved the seas, the rivers, and the floods. It has set forth no disloyal sentiments. It has won the love of its friends and commanded the respect of its enemies. Ames died, but his press served many years more in the growing West, publishing such early Western papers as the Esmerelda Star, the Eno Journal. When its usefulness was ended, it was preserved as an historical memento and rests in honorable retirement in the Museum of Americana at Dearborn, Michigan as a reminder of the resourcefulness of John Judson Ames. The Decade of America presented by Dupont moves on. Our modern episode this evening tells a story of the Coast Guard, an organization famous for its ability to meet all kinds of emergency. Our story opens on an isolated island off the mid-Atlantic coast. The ice flows of a severe winter have piled up around the island, hemming it in from ships. At this moment, two small boys, sons of island fishermen, trudged with their sleds out across the ice, toward the open ocean. We're getting out off of far some shore, Dick. Ah, this ice is thick, Sammy. We can walk clear out and look down in the water. It's better not. Look at that. That's the ice-flow kraken. All right, scaredy-cat, go back home. You have the biggest scaredy-cat on Ridders Island. No. No, I'm not. Watch me. Guard headquarters, coach speaking. Just a minute. It's for you, Lieutenant. Thanks, Jim. Lieutenant Gordon speaking. What is it? Oh, Lord, what's next? A whole eastern seaboard falling to pieces. How long has it been since he had any sleep? Three or four days. He's been supposed to start south on his leave every day for weeks. Yes, I know. Every day something happens. Well, if he's going to wait for things to stop happening around this station, he'll do without a leave the rest of his life. He needs it, though. Yeah. Yes, we might be able to land a planet, Ridders. We've only got about 40 minutes of daylight left. All right, we'll do what we can. Yeah, yeah, that's a promise. Goodbye. Chief, we can't land a plane at Ridders. That place is bad news and good weather. Well, this man swears there's a patch of open water until he's cold, close to shore. Uh, get me a chart that shows Ridders, will ya? Sure. What do they want a plane for, anyway? Oh, a couple of kids got caught in an ice flow. The fishing boat picked them up, but instead of bringing them to the mainland, carter them back across the ice to the island. No doctor can get there in a hurry, and they've got to have medical help. Here's your chart. Thanks, Jim. How did the word come to shore? Amateur radio, and then relayed around by telephone. Yeah. Yeah, by the time a carter could get there and cross the ice and carry them out again, it might be too late. It's 4.30 now. It'll be dark by five. I know it. You better go out and warm up number three. You really gonna try it, Chief? Naturally. Now, don't get me wrong. I'll go out there and try to land in a bathtub if I have to. But that water around Ritters is full of floating logs and chunks of ice. This is my trip, Jim. I once hung around that island for months, waiting to spot some smugglers out of a banner. Your trip, huh? Can't I come along? Co-pilot and radio man, if you want. Strictly a volunteer job. Okay, I'm volunteering. Say, aren't you supposed to start south on leaves as soon as you go off duty tonight? Sure. Let's go. If we get back in time, I can catch a 10 o'clock train. Okay. When Lieutenant Gordon and Jim Coates started for Ritters Island, they knew that a dangerous landing lay ahead of them. They found the island by light in the windows of a few houses, and guided by them and a bonfire built by the natives on shore, they brought their plane down in a tortuous inlet. Some time later, inside the plane, just before the takeoff... One of them is thrashing around a good bit. The other one's too sick to notice. Four little shavers. All right, we're off that then, Jim. Hey, I gave our four flashlights to fishermen to mark the end of the channel. I can only see three. I see the fourth. Oh, here to the right. Oh, yeah, I see it. All right. Everybody out there! Keep through ahead! Okay, Jim. Goodbye! Let him sleep with you, son. Listen here, Dick. You've got to do something for me. I throw all the way out to get down and hard to get up. Something for me? How do I go to sleep? All right, you take it. Gordon and Coates and plane three... Oh, Jim. Tell them, Gordon, have we made rid of... and makes an easy landing at the naval base. A short time later, in the hospital, as Lieutenant Gordon waits in the corridor... Lieutenant Gordon? Oh, yes, Doctor. I've been out making calls to my headquarters, but I wanted to know how the boys were doing before I left. Well, the little one's Sammy. He's still a pretty sick boy, but he'll pull through. Good. You're no connection of their families, are you? Well, no. You see, I only picked them up when a call came into the Coast Guard headquarters. Doctor, could you come here for a moment? Yes, what is it, Miss Redmond? Well, one of these boys is a handful. For the last hour, he's been demanding to see the pilot who flew in here. Well, Lieutenant Gordon's right here. Lieutenant, if you have time. Oh, certainly, certainly. I want to see the kids. That's what I came back for. You'll come right in. Thank you. Are you crying again, Dick? No, I'm not. Well, I haven't. Nothing like that. I'll leave you with them, Lieutenant. All right. Better? Yeah. Yeah, I feel fine. That's great, Sammy. They gave us something that made us all hot inside. Who? Well, didn't I tell you like this, please? Well, you'll have chicken and ice cream, and you'll be good and warm all the time. Sammy keeps crying because he can't see his mother. Oh. You keep crying for yours, too. Now, listen, both of you, that's just the way not to get wealthy. Now, as soon as the ice swallows are out, your mothers will be over here right away. But what about tonight? Yeah. I never was away from home before at night. Well, all right. If you two fellas will be good and do what the nurse tells you, maybe I can remember a couple of stories. Oh, gee. I bet you know a lot of stories, Lieutenant, about airplanes and going out to sink on ships and chasin' smugglers. Do you know anything about big ships? I'm going to be a ship captain. You are, huh? Yeah. Well, now, let's see. Yes, Gordon. Oh, yes, Ness. Mr. Coates is calling on the telephone. He says to tell you he's called headquarters, and he needs to take the plane back, and you're to start on your leave tonight. He says to come out to the airport right away. You just have time to get a train south. Well, will you tell him, Ness, that I'll see him back at the station tomorrow or the day after? You're not leaving? Not tonight. Oh, gee. Tell him... Tell him I've got a job here. I haven't quite finished. In small matters, as in great, the Coast Guard meets constant danger, a life that is a series of emergencies, required to stand ready for a hundred varied tasks day and night. The Coast Guard, one of the most resourceful organizations in the world, has won a foremost place in the cavalcade of America. The ability to find an answer to the toughest problem has always been an outstanding national trait. This spirit exists on land and sea, on farms, in cities, and in chemical laboratories. The resourceful modern chemist produces curious and remarkable things. Who'd ever believe, for instance, that men could make sponges from cotton or from trees? Wooden sponges. Well, they can. Both cotton and wood are composed largely of a substance called cellulose. Chemists turn cellulose into something that looks like a sponge, acts like a sponge, in fact, is a sponge. Put it on the sea bottom, and you almost could fool the fishers with it. This new cellulose sponge, only recently placed on the market by DuPont, is very tough and durable, yet remarkably soft and friable when wet. It absorbs many times its weight of water, and is not affected by ordinary cleaning chemicals. This is only one of the many ways that chemists use nature's raw materials in making articles that serve our needs. Sometimes chemical research gives us products entirely different from anything found in nature. For example, chemists found how to take cellulose from spruce trees and make a material as clear and transparent as glass, with sparkling wrapping used for so many things today. It is called cellulose film. DuPont sells it under the trademark cellophane. Another member of this same family is cello seal, the attractive caps and bands made by DuPont, and used to seal bottles for protection against dirt or germs or counterfeiting. Even rayon, that luxurious yarn used in making so many lovely fabrics, is created from spruce tree cellulose by an amazing chemical process. These examples of the work of DuPont chemists are only a few out of many, but they serve to illustrate what is meant by the DuPont phrase, better things for better living through chemistry. The songs of home, several interesting stories of American songs we all love, will be heard next week at the same time when DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Now the new ABC, New York.