 The Cavalcade of America presented by Dupont. This evening's Cavalcade of America takes us to sea for a story of lighthouses and light ships, manned by courageous people who are truly sentinels of the deep. It was not so long ago that chemistry, like the sea in centuries past, was uncharted, unfamiliar to man, and full of mystery. But today there are many beacons along the coastline of chemical discovery, due to the patient work of research chemists in the employ of companies such as Dupont. In Dupont laboratories alone, $6 million is spent yearly in chemical research. The spirit behind this work is what's expressed by Dupont's pledge, better things for better living, through chemistry. As an overture, Don Vorreys and his orchestra will play the fourth movement of the famous Chaharazade suite by Rimsky-Korsakov, which tells the story of Sinbad, the sailor. They're courses by the beacons of our lighthouses or the radio beams of our light ships. But over 200 years ago, it was a far different story. One stormy winter night in the year 1712, a British merchantman, leaky and battered after three months' voyage from England, is running before a wild Nor'eastern. Our captain and mate scan the dark waters and luring sky for some glimmer of light from the town of Boston, that they know lies somewhere in the market. They'll be lucky we arrived the night, Captain. The helmsman reports a logi in the head and flades of the woman to the wheels. But with her top still carried away and the rig and half gone below. Aye, Mr. Squires. And I like not this blow in the Nor'eastern. There's no ship to be standing off the land all night with shells all around it. And you're of a mind to run her in, sir. Say the devil with reefs and bars in the lake? Aye, that I am, Mr. Squires. Fix the rising water in the hold and the ghost of a set of sails aloft. I've little chance left me. It'll be like a drunken man playing at blind man's boxer. Aye, but we must chance it. No more of this beating the devil halfway. Go forward and set the boats in the castle in the lead. For as our charts of these waters be, we may yet feel our way to safety if we cannot have it shown to us. Aye, sir. Say, it is this Boston folk have no beacon on the headlands to light us in. While you're wishing for what's not, might as well be wishing for the moon this night. Now go forward. There's that tea merchant with his wife coming this way. And that young lad of theirs will be spared answering his questions. Aye, sir. It's a likely lad he isn't bright. Ah, good evening to you, Mrs. Wendt. Good evening, Mr. Wendt. Good evening, sir. Good evening to you. Good evening, Captain. If Bolson tells me, we may yet see Bolson town this night, Captain. You mean that if this wind holds off a bit? Oh, what a blessing it'll be to set foot on dry land again. After all these terrible weeks at city. And a new land. Don't forget that, my dear. Do you think the Indian people are from land, Captain? Well, hardly that, Master Donald. Not in this year of 1712. You'll find Bolson town quite a civilized place. Not like London, of course, but then... You best house the captain's permission, Donald. Best not, lad. The sea is rougher than you might be washed overboard. I think we best all go below. It's getting much rougher. Besides, we have much packing to do if we're to leave the ship in the morning. That's best, ma'am. Shall we sight the lights of the town and I'll send a man below to tell you. Till then, there'll be nothing you'll miss. Good night, ma'am. Good night, Captain. Now, there's no danger, you think? There's always danger, but, God willing, we'll be right in our anchor with the coming of the dawn. Oh, you've no idea. How cheering it is to hear you say those words. Good night, Captain. Good night, ma'am. You'll be sure to let me know when we sight America, won't you, Captain? I can hardly wait to see what it's like. We're going to live there, you know. Yes, I will, lad. In the fine new land, you'll be having for the home. Good night. Good night, lad. And, great God, you may see that new home of yours. Oh, please. He goes. Mr. Squire. I answer. Call all hands on deck. We'll then fight the land from below. I answer. It was the fate of many a noble ship. No guiding vegans marked the safe harbors of our colonial seaboard. But it was not long before the citizens of Boston realized the need. And so in the year 1715, the first lighthouse of the Western world was constructed by the far-sighted fathers of the Massachusetts Colony. And for over 200 years, the Boston Light has guided ships to the safety of Boston Harbor. One of the first acts of the Continental Congress was to create and maintain a national lighthouse service. The records are dotted with countless heroic deeds of men and women, tenders of those lights which must not fail. One such entry, on a record yellowed with age, tells of a lighthouse on a barren rock isolated for months by treacherous ice-flows and winter storms. The keeper, his wife and child, wait for the supply ship on a bitter cold night. Mr. David. I'm hungry. Ain't there anything to eat? No, David. The last scrap's gone. Now, don't you get out of bed. Stay under the covers and keep warm, honey. Besides, if you lie still, you won't feel the hunger so much. Don't hurt so much as it did. How long's it been since we ate? Well, it's been three days now. But you just try not to think about it, David. Try to go to sleep, son. And maybe when you wake up, the supply ship will be here. I'll be trying to sleep so much. Where's Pa? He's outside looking to see if maybe some gulls are roosting on the rock. Darling, wouldn't it be great if he was to come in with a gull? You could make soup for all of us. Well, I wouldn't figure on it, David. There ain't been a gull near that rock since the cold set in. Pa, now. No, no, stay in bed, David. No, son, it's no use. Even if there'd been any gulls on the rock, I don't reckon they'd have waited for me to hit them with a pole. You couldn't have got there as weak as you are, John. Well, it's better than sitting here waiting for... John? Mind your tongue. I'm only gonna say waiting for the supply ship. Thought I sighted her at sundown, but I reckon it was only a shadow of the clouds on the ice floes. Now when this storm blows up... Oh, we can't give up hope yet. This offshore wind may open up the ice and let it through to us in time. Is the light burning yet? Clear and bright, thank heavens. Well, what's the use, John? Why are we burning the last of the oil in the lamps when we might be keeping ourselves from freezing to death with it? What's the good of keeping the light burning to warn ships off the rock where no ship could get within miles of us if she tried? There's never been a night since this lighthouse was built that captains couldn't set their course by her, and I am not gonna let it be said that I let her stand dark while there's a drop of oil in the tanks. How much longer will the oil last, John? Well, it's near dawn now. This night and another maybe? Be too glad. Maybe today... Let him be. He's dropped off. Just dreaming. Talking in his sleep. Oh, John. It tears my heart out to hear him. Do you think he can stand it much longer? Yeah, I know, I know. I blame myself when I think how I might have sent you both to the mainland for the winter. Well, I wouldn't have gone, John. This is your job and my place is here with you. No place for a woman. No one to talk to months on in, and now this. No food, nothing to keep warm with. There's no fine place for a man either, John. But you know you've been promised a transfer, and there's lots of fine lighthouses on the headlands of the coast. Places near a village where David could go to school? Yes, I know. You've been promised a transfer. It's three years we've been on this rock now, and unless the supply ship gets through before long, we'll have small use for a new post. Well, look, John. It's getting light. The weather's clear into the east. Well, look, you're right. Where do I take a look short? Oh, thank heaven. This is another mile away, John. David! David, wake up, John! What is it, Pa? It's the supply ship, David. It's coming. Oh, John. Why would I go when she wouldn't be here? Such incidents of heroism and unsung devotion to duty are legion in the annals of the Lighthouse Service. Presented by Dupont Moussaint. The lighthouses that dot our coasts are but a part of the larger service. And of all the men of the Lighthouse Service of today, those who take the greatest risks are the officers and crews of the light ships, anchored in the open sea, marking dangerous shores and often stationed in the very center of the Stinge Plains. Ocean miners set their course dead on the light ship's guiding radio beam and then veer off as they approach. But when fog, the seamen's worst enemy, drops down, disaster to the light ship echoes with every throat he blasts. The danger is ever-present in the minds of the men who gather in the crew quarters of the Nantucket Lightship. And for a rookie on his first tour of duty on the shores of Nantucket, the ghostly cloak of fog is a terrifying thing. Hey, Bill, lay out my hand, will ya? I gotta go on deck. Sure, Harry. I'm glad I ain't you. It's a dirty night out. The worst we've had since we pulled out a new Bedford. Say, what day is it, anyway? No idea, you kid. Three weeks away, you're up for sure, leave. I know, but I'd like to keep track of the days that helps pass the time. Well, there's a calendar on the bunk. May 15th. Yeah, and it's 1934, in case you've lost track of the year. You'll have to do that out here, you know. I know a guy once who did. Come on, let's get out of the game. Yeah, beat it, Harry. Go up on deck and get your ration of fog. Yeah, you lucky blighter. Say, Harry, blow a couple of kisses to the pretty girls and the big liner when she scrapes the paint off our port rail going past. Let's hope she don't take the rail life votes in wireless that one of them did back in January. I'll bet you two to one she don't miss us by a hundred feet in this fog. You're on, Bill. We'll let Harry be the judge. Five bucks says she misses us by more than a hundred feet. Okay, if we're near due, bearing down on our radio direction beams the last hour, well, see you guys subsequently. Steal the cards and let's get going. You know, I feel lucky tonight. I never feel lucky with a fast ship using us for a bull's eye in a fog like we got tonight. Hey, Joe, what's the matter with a new kid over there? Home sick? Listen, you were the fiddle. Hey, let him alone, Bill. It's his first time out. Hey, kid, how about something on a little life to it? Sure. What would you like me to play, fellas? Well, anything but a sleep in the deep. All right, how's that? That's better. See, do those big liners really pass in so close? They sure do, kid. Too close for comfort sometimes. Lightships can't dodge, you know, seeing their anchor in one spot. You ought to have been with us last January when we got sideswiped in a foggy night like this. Lucky for us, she just scripts a couple of feet more to starve it and goodnight. Yeah, as it was, she didn't leave much. She carried away our rail, life boats and wireless. Gosh. Say, what would happen to us if she didn't bear off quick enough? Suppose she didn't know how close she was. That's the chance we take every time there's a five, son. Gee. Oh, ain't you ever nervous? Yeah, at first. I know how you're feeling, kid. It does sort of get you in the pit of the stomach. Do you want one of them big baby's whistles getting closer and closer? You can't see her, and she can't see you for the fog. You go up on deck to watch for her, and all of a sudden, you see her coming right at you out of the fog. You think she couldn't miss. And then she'll swing over and go hoot and pass so close she can reach up and touch her sometimes. Yeah, kid, if you want your hair curled, just go up on deck and take a gander of this one. She'll be moving plenty fast. Well, I think maybe I will go on deck. I don't see how you fellas can stay down here playing cards. Suppose she was to hit us. You wouldn't have much chance down here. If she was to hit us fair and square, you wouldn't have much chance anywhere, son. He'd knife us in half like this old light chip with a piece of cheese. How soon will she get here? Most anytime now. Open the door to the wireless room and ask Sparks. He's been inviting us to smack us for the last hour. Nice guy, Sparks. He throws him a radio direction beam, and they point right on it. Yeah, ain't science wonderful. You reckon Sparks will mind if I ask him? No, go on in. He's a good guy. Even if he does pass out invitations, they'll reach up in the ocean to come take a crack at it. It's all in the day's work. Thanks, Sparks. Oh, hello, kid. Hello, Dan Tuckett, calling Dan Tuckett Night Chip. That's the second kid, okay. Hello, Dan Tuckett Night Chip speaking. Go ahead. We're pretty close to you on Dan Tuckett. The old man's off with you, Sparks. About 12 plus, I'd say. Don't mind us. We only work here. They're dropping the beam. I hear you. Sounds like you're about a quarter of a mile away. Hold it. The old man wants that. Hello? Hello? Radio room, sir. The form captain of the liner is bearing down on us. Just sighted us through the fog. Get on. Yes, sir. Hello? Hello? Inform briefs. Sparks, quick! They're almost on us! You're on us! So on that foggy night of May 15, 1934, the Dan Tuckett Light Chip ended her years of faithful duty at one of the most dangerous posts in the Light Chip service. But hardly an hour after the liner's wireless crackled out the faithful news of the disaster, there was a scene of feverish activity on a fog- shrouded wharf at New Bedford. Another Dan Tuckett Light Chip was being fueled and manned to take the place of a doomed predecessor. The Dan Tuckett Shoals' graveyard of ships had to be marked. Another Light Chip. More men were going out to that dangerous post. Oh, Jack, don't go. I can't stand it. Brother was on the old Dan Tuckett. I haven't found him. Don't go and leave me like this, Jack. Oh, now, Sally, take it easy. I know it's tough about the kid, especially on his first trip, but it's my job. I've got to go. Oh, Jack, look at the fog. Oh, you can't see a thing. It's awful. Suppose something should happen to you, too. What would I do? You've never felt like this before, Sally. It's not going to be all right. It's just the kid's going through a sudden life. You don't have to worry about me. Who ever heard of lightning striking twice in the same place anyhow? Ah, now, come on, sir. Buck up and give a fella a kiss. I've got to go aboard. I'm sorry, Jack. I know I oughtn't be acting this way. I'm worrying you when you get a job to do. It's only that I can't help thinking about brother. He was just a kid. Yeah. Look at this shoe, Sally. You know, Powell was one of the kids to go into the lighthouse service. Yes, I know. I know. Jack, you'll be careful, won't you? Promise me you'll stay on deck on foggy nights. That's no use, Sally. When your number's up, you'll get yours no matter where you are. That's what I always say. Hey, Jack, there's a ghost car. It just came in from the wreck of the light ship. They're docked down below. They've docked some men. Yeah? Oh, Jack, our wondrous brother. He's coming this way now. Glory be it is, pal. It is. It's the kid. Hey, kid, right over here. Hi, Jack. Hello, sis. Oh, we thought we'd never see you again. No, I came through without a scratch. That pretty wet and most froze boy. They pulled me out of the water, but that's all. It's a kid. You see any of the others while you were swimming around? Yeah. Yeah, Sparks. Him and me held onto a spar, and Bill and Harry came through, too, but they're in a bad way. Come on home, brother. Oh, I'm hungry. Yeah, kid. Say, you had a narrow squeak from a tough time. Go on. Go on home. Get yourself some sleep. Ah, no. Nothing to do, Jack. I'm going to see Skipper Wagner. I'm going back with you. Why, you're not going out again. Not right away. Sure, sis. Why not? They must be shorthanded on the relief ship. Skipper needs me, don't he, Jack? Well, yeah. Well, it's so long, sis. Come on, Jack. Goodbye, Sally. What are we waiting for? He said that as long as there are ships, men will go down to the sea, and women will wait. And this was never more true than in the lighthouse service. One ship is lost, another goes out to take its place. Day and night, winter and summer, in storm and calm, the light ships strain at their heavy anchors in order that the passengers on our modern luxury liners may travel in safety. And so, to the courageous men of the United States' lighthouse service, and to the stalwart women who help their men tend to head them lights, or send their husbands and sons and brothers to the light ships far at sea, the cavalcade of America salutes you. This evening deals with color, and that subject is especially appropriate right now when the gorgeous reds and golds of autumn delight the eye on every side. Wife would be much less interesting in our active colors and our home decorations, clothing, and countless things that surround us. Yet did you ever stop to think that our modern world is the colorful place it is, largely because of chemistry. Chemists have tapped nature for hidden sources of color, and have produced from such unlikely-looking raw material as coal tar, a veritable chemical rainbow colors. Once only kings and such could own colorful garments. But today nearly everyone can have a bright ray of clothes and other things without ever thinking of the few pennies that it cost to dye them. And women of today appreciate what it means to have dyes that are fast to light and fast to washing. It wasn't so long ago that one could never be sure how a piece of colored clothing would come back from its first trip to the wash. In recent years, however, chemists have developed dyes of every hue and tint that will not fade under the most severe conditions. They purchase garments and all sorts of fabrics with every assurance that the color will last as long as the material. The DuPont Company has been privileged to play a leading part in these contributions to America's progress. It pioneered in the development of a dye stuff industry in the United States, thus helping to make this country independent of foreign sources for dyes and many other related products that are essential to modern living. Facing its faith on the ability of its research chemist to answer America's demands for dyes, the DuPont Company invested more than 40 million dollars and carried on its work for more than five years before the dye stuff venture returned a scent of profit. Thus adequate financial resources coupled with knowledge and foresight eventually made possible this outstanding contribution which so aptly illustrates the DuPont phrase better things for better living through chemistry. Next week at the same time our story will be about John Winthrop, the pioneer American chemist when DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.