 of Wilmington Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the cavalcade of America. Tonight's star, Patricia Neal. Tonight's story, A Woman's Way. Come back with us now to the Indian territory in the middle of the last century. For here begins the story of a 20-year-old girl named Catherine Faye, who had left her home in Ohio to open a one-room school in the wilderness. Go on, Tommy. The little boy was... Oh, no, Tommy. It's not Indian. It's Indian. My pop calls him Indians. Indian devils. All right, children. All right. Sit down, Tommy. Now listen carefully, children. Let me ask you a question. Who made you? The Lord. Of course he did. And he made everyone, the Indians, too. We're all brothers, you and I and the Indians. We must learn to love one another, even with our differences. Can you understand what I mean? Yes, ma'am. Good. I hope so. Now remember, no more Indians. They are Indians and they are our brothers. All right. That'll be all for today. See you tomorrow. Cathy. Dr. Williams, I didn't see you. I was standing at the door, watching you beg them to open their hearts a little. Come on outside to the wagon, Cathy. I have something to show you. All right. What is it? Over here. There. What do you think of this little sleep and beauty, eh? A little care. Oh, she's beautiful. Cathy, what I have to say now is going to surprise you. I want you to take this child. Take her? You mean a doctor? But what about her parents? Cheer, Cathy. No one to turn to now. You see, this child is just an orphan. Now, Mr. Lawson, give me a sack of flour. Sack of flour. And a bag of sugar. Here, there. And oh, I'm going to need to... Oh, Dr. Williams. Hello, Cathy. Oh, I'm so glad you came in. You know that little girl you brought to the school. Well, I think I can take her now. Cathy, it's too late. Dr. Williams, what do you mean? A couple finally came along and asked for the child. He turned out to be a whiskey trader. Oh, no. During the drunken brawl, the child was killed. Catherine was badly shaken. The news of the child's death prayed constantly on her mind. In a way, she blamed herself. Constantly haunted by the tragedy and her sense of guilt, she resolved to dedicate the rest of her life to provide a home for orphans. She returned to Marietta, Ohio. There, with $200 her life savings, Catherine Fay made the first payment on a little farm. And then she paid a visit to the poor house. And so, Mr. Grimes, I want to take some of the children from this poor house and give them a real home. Now, that's a unique request, Miss Fay. Orphans have always been put in the poor house. They are a pauper, shouldn't they, oh? Oh, please. Could I see the children? All right, but just remember now, I promise you nothing. Follow me. You can hardly see. It's no dog. They're right over here. That's just the old man. He's insane. People like that? In here with the children? Well, he won't hurt him. He's changed. Come on, children. Come on. Oh, dear Lord. No, they have no shoes. They're running around barefoot. Freedom's good here, is any place in the country. Better than most. Hello. What's your name? Please tell me your name. Nancy, Nancy. Oh, that's a pretty name. Oh, Mr. Grimes, please, I beg of you, let me take some of them. Well, have to speak to the trustees about it first. Meanwhile, pick out those you want. Pick them. Oh, me, lady. Take me, please. Oh, the control lady, please, save me. Oh, Mr. Grimes, I can't pick them. It's like shopping in a store. Oh, I can take care of nine. You choose any nine and send them to me. All right. You'll get the same keep firm as we do. $1 a week per child. Yay! So a young woman called Catherine Faye began her home for orphaned children. But she had undertaken more than she thought. She's crazy, that woman, taking all those brats from the poor house. Believe me, we can expect trouble when they begin to mingle with decent children. It's a money-making scheme. That woman's getting a dollar a week for keeping each of those kids. Your dollar, my dollar, tax dollars. It's the most beautiful birthday cake I've ever seen. And here are Annie and David. Why, those are the prettiest flowers. I haven't worked on a plant more, too. Oh, children. Children, thank you. You've made me very happy. But tell me now, who baked the cake? Did you, David? No, I don't know how. Well, someone must have baked it. Your father must have been a wonderful man to show you how to make such a beautiful cake. Maybe he would like some cake, too, huh? I'll go see who it is. Yes? Send them kids back to the poor house. That's where they come from, and that's where they belong. Sympathetic people. With the little money she managed to collect, Catherine Fay decided to enlarge the home. And by 1860, it was completed. 61, it was desperately needed. The civil war had begun. Left Ohio and did not return. Widows were left with children they could not support. Could you take my baby? The father was just killed. This little fella's about either his parents, or it's either the poor house or you, Miss Fay. I'd like to leave her with you, Miss. Don't know whether I'll be coming back from this campaign. You know how it is. But I sure don't want her sent to the poor house, and I know her mother wouldn't have wanted that. But I have no room. I've almost 60 children now. She's a good girl, Miss. Please, ma'am, then I can rest. All right. Bring her to me tomorrow. Dear God. Dear banter for God, who's been so good to me. Give me help. Let me not now be alone. Let me bear the burden of these times well. But, dear God, give me help and strength. A woman's way, starring Patricia Neal as Catherine Fay in 1864. Although the civil war itself did not reach Ohio, its human aftermath did. For in the house she founded for orphans near Marietta, Ohio, Catherine Fay is taking care of over 60 homeless children. Toby, if you're interested. You'll have to give it up. Orders. We're taking all horses for the army. Toby? In the cavalry? Sorry, ma'am, but you'll have to get down. I will not. I'm headed to the mill to get flour for my children, and I intend to get there. Get down, Miss. I'm unhitching her. Stop. If you'll pardon me saying so, driving this cart not a woman's work, especially these days. But it's work which must be done. Well, I live nearby. This is my desk. I've got some time in my hand. Might I help you occasionally? Why, thank you, Mr. Ewing. Yes, that would be very nice indeed. Come on, girls, get up. At least I don't think so. And yet? And yet what, Miss Ewing? And yet this does seem a little like heaven, Miss Fay. Heaven, Miss Ewing? Yes. Strangely, I have the feeling that I'm looking into the face of an angel. Here advances. October's red becomes winter's white. And new faces appear, young faces, faces at the door hoping for a home to live in, and a life to live. And the door is never closed. Finally, with the home overcrowded and funds pitifully scarce, Catherine Fay knows what she must do. And so, Senator Knowles, I've come to Columbus to ask your aid. But, Miss Fay, orphans have all been cared for by the poor house. Senator, some of the children belong to soldiers who've gone off to fight and die. Surely the children deserve something better from their country? Please, Senator, we need your help. Well, I'll try, Miss Fay. It is needed to change men's ways. And I don't think the legislature would vote funds for a separate orphan home, even if I submitted such a bill. But I'll try. Thank you, Mr. Ewing. Oh, my, what a wonderful trip. Senator Knowles was even kinder than I'd expected. He's going to present a bill. Isn't that the most? Miss Fay, please, just a moment. Right. What's the matter? Is something wrong? Nancy is ill. Very ill. Ill? But she was all right when I left. We have to be very careful. All the children have been exposed to her. Exposed to what? What is it? Differiel. So dry. Give her some more water. You did it, did it? Oh, slowly, darling. Slowly. Yeah. I'm scared, isn't it, Katie? We're here with you, dear. Oh, Mr. Ewing, five of our children ill. When will it stop? When will it stop? What's her fever? 105, an hour ago. Her pulse is very weak. And it, Katie? Just rest, Nancy. We're here. It's so tough, you dog. The door is locked. You know more for her. I'll stay with her for a minute, Mr. Ewing. Just for a minute. Far too cold for you out here. It's all over now, Miss Fay. The others are all well again. Thanks to you. Thanks to you, too, Mr. Ewing. I don't think I'll ever forget what you've done. Strange that day we met. Little did I think how much it would change my life. Catherine. Yes? I love you, Catherine, that I need you. If there is love in your heart. If there is love for you and much love, Mr. Ewing. Then will you marry me? Yes. Oh, I don't know. Oh, there's so many things to think about with the children. But you also have your own life to live. Your own happiness. The children are more important than my happiness. Important? Of course, but you can't use them as a shield to your own life. And you must think of yourself as a woman, as a mother, to have children to be your own. I do have children of my own. No, no, Catherine, you don't. Mr. Ewing, if the way I live my life bothers you. Catherine, don't. Then no one's asking you to stay. You're free to leave, Mr. Ewing. That's the way you want it, Miss Fay. I will. What's the matter, Annie Katie? Nothing, David. But it must be something. You don't laugh anymore. You don't play with us like you used to. I'll be all right, David. Tell us, Annie Katie. Is it something we've done? Children. Children. I'm ill. I must go to my room. Annie Katie! Annie Katie, help her. Let's couple up the stairs. I'll go to the well for some water. Cathy, I couldn't stay away. I had to come back to tell you. To tell you how much I love you, how much I need you. Oh, my dear Mr. Ewing. I need you, too. There was a great emptiness, Mr. Ewing. A very great emptiness. I should never have left. Here's some water, Annie Katie. Oh, I'll help you, David. And there was a letter in the box, too. It's from Senator Nose. Oh, open it, please. Later, Cathy. No, no, now, please. All right. My dear Miss Faye, I have presented the bill we spoke of, and regret to say that it fails to pass. Faye. Please know that I have done all I came. Faithfully, Samuel S. Knowles. Faye. Faye, oh, that. I can understand it. Catherine, there's nothing that you want. Oh, they've just got to see that these children cannot be. Mr. Ewing, why didn't I think of it sooner? Of course, it's the only thing to do. What? I shall go to Columbus, the state legislature, and address them myself. Finally, Catherine Faye carried the fight she had begun so long ago to the floor of the state legislature at Columbus. This is the approach to be refused the love that every child must have. One woman alone standing on the platform. The faces of the legislators. Gentlemen, the plight before her eyes. But Miss Fortune. The great holler which had heard the rough voices of politicians. Now resounding to the warm tones of her grateful youth. I've done all I can. Now I must enlist your aid. I beg of you to pass this bill which will give orphaned real homes of their own. Think only of your own, mothers and fathers. And you will find the answer in your heart. I propose a voice vote on this bill. Second it. You have heard the motion? All those in favor say aye. Aye. Do you think I might drive you home? Oh, Mr. Ewing. Mr. Ewing. That would be very nice indeed. And now Bill Hamilton speaking for the DuPont Company. In Western Colorado, there lives a man who learned the meaning of freedom the hard way. His name is Clement Auden. Born in Belgium, Mr. Auden went to work in the coal mines there when he was 11, working 14 hours, six days a week, and earning 18 cents a day. The work was hard and slow because miners had to break the coal loose with hand picks. 12 years later, Mr. Auden was earning 70 cents a day, but he was still far from satisfied. There was a great ambition within him. So in 1904, with $10 borrowed from his mother, he set out for the United States. And in time, he went to work in a mine in Colorado, saving his money bit by bit, until he had enough to buy a small herd of dairy cattle and a ranch. At four o'clock every morning, Mr. Auden wrote his pony to work in the mines and returned at night to pitch hay by lantern light. In winter, he mended shoes for the other miners. Saving slowly but steadily, Mr. Auden was able to begin his own mining operation in 1932. And today, his mine called Hawks Nest and owned jointly with his sons Ralph, Abel, and Clem Jr. is one of the best and most productive in the region. In his lifetime, Mr. Auden has seen many changes come to the man who dig coal beneath the earth's surface. New safety, new leisure, new prosperity, new hope. At the root of these changes was freedom, the freedom of courageous men to make their dreams come true. For under this system of freedom came developments that made mining easier and more productive. Conveyor belts that carry the coal to the surface and improved explosives that increased productivity, just to name only two. DuPont is proud to have had a part in this progress by the development of dynamites and other explosives that are among the DuPont company's better things for better living through chemistry. Tonight's DuPont cavalcade was written by Robert S. Green and was based on three pioneer women in American education in Washington County, Ohio by Nina Rowland. Original music was composed by Arden Cornwell conducted by Donald Boris. The program was directed by John Zoller. Patricia Neal is now appearing in MGM's Washington Story, photographed on DuPont motion picture film by John Alton ASC. This is Si Harris, reminding you to be with us next week when the DuPont cavalcade presents the gig of the Saginaw, a powerful sea story of the men of Midway Island, our star, Gary Merrow. The DuPont cavalcade of America came to you tonight from the Velasco Theater in New York City and is sponsored by the DuPont company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry.