 The Cavalcade of America. At Thanksgiving time when our nation and our people reflect on the many things for which we should be thankful, we cannot fail to include thanks for the American spirit of self-reliance, which is so well illustrated by tonight's episode in The Cavalcade of America, presented by DuPont, one of America's oldest industries. And this same self-reliance that Americans have shown in generations past is duplicated today in chemical research laboratories, like those of DuPont, where patient scientists work constantly to create better things for better living through chemistry. The action of this evening's first episode takes place at sea in the year of 1620, on board the Mayflower as it neared the end of its historic voyage to the new world. Our Cavalcade orchestra sets the stage with excerpts from the overture to Wagner's opera, The Flying Dutchman, in which the composer portrayed the stormy voyage of his legendary hero. Have been solving their own problems without asking for outside aid. Let us go back to the year 1620. For 65 days the Good Ship Mayflower has been buffeted by seas and winds. On board are 102 brave souls seeking a home in the new world. They have planned to land somewhere along the Delaware River, but waves and weather have carried them far off their course. When on November 9th the pilgrims finally sight land, it proves to be not for sure they are seeking, but the rock-bound coast of New England. So southward the Mayflower turns, but only for a short time. Here for a cup! Captain Jones. Captain Jones, what is the meaning of this? We're putting back, Master Carver. Putting back to England? Hardly, sir. For the land we just dived in Cape Cod, what are there lies to the south of us? And so do shores and reefs, Master Rousseff. Surely we can skirt about them? I am taking no chances. I have to bring this ship 3,000 miles, and I'm not seeing a go to the bottom of the inside of land. Oh, the captain is right. Listen to those braces. We're putting into the first harbor we find. And there are your landings. Well spoken, Captain. Don't say I. Let's have done with argument and land. We have lost, Boris, to land in New England. Our patent is from the Virginia Company. Patents, be hanged. We want to get a shore. But don't you understand, the Virginia Company has no jurisdiction as far north as this. So much to murder, Master Rousseff. We can do as we please. What say you, Master Carver? It has been a long journey. Our food supplies are low. I like not landing without authority. But it does seem the only thing to do. Who wants authority? Not I. We had our taste of that in England. Freedom, that's what we're after. Liberty. Every man is his own master. His master a shore, maybe. But not why you're aboard this ship. I'm the master here, and I'm giving orders to put back to Cape Cod now. Stand by to go about that same day as the Mayflower slowly beat her way up around Cape Cod, the leaders of the pilgrims gathered in the cabin in Sobor Conn's place. Master Carver, I'm worried about some of our company. Did you hear their boastings this morning? How they said they would take advantage of their liberty once we landed? Aye. And unruly lost these London men. Cut some of different patterns on our lighting, folks. Aye. Give them a free hand, and they'll be not but trouble in the settlement. Had we only been able to secure a charter from the King, giving us the right to govern ourselves. In a crisis like this, my friends, there's nothing to do but to take matters into our own hands. Aye. My army numbers only a dozen men, sirs. But we stand ready to enforce orders. Thank you, Captain Sandish. If military measures become necessary, we will call upon you. What was not said, I had in mind. A civil government is what we must create. You are right, Master Carver. Let us straightaway appoint some of our own number here as a governing body. What governors our little colony has must be chosen by common consent. But our boasting friends on deck will never consent to any rule. Then they will not be permitted to land. We will draw off a covenant, which every man must sign tomorrow before he leaves this ship, agreeing to abide by the common will. In this way only can we be sure of law and order. The following day, just before the Mayflower drop anchor in the Lee of Cape Cobb, an order went forth for all her passengers to assemble in the cabin. A tiny cycling room was packed to overflowing as John Carver rose and addressed them. My friends, we find ourselves for the first time in our lives subject to no law. Nobody to rely upon but ourselves. It is a strange situation for folk who have lived always under an established order. For this reason we have drawn up a covenant. I will read it to you. Having undertaken for the glory of God and advancement of the Christian faith and honor of our king and country, avoid to plant the first colonies in the northern part of Virginia. We do by these presence solemnly and mutually in the presence of God and of one of another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil body politic. Or our labor, ordering and preservation under which we promise all due submission and obedience. In witness whereof we appear under subscribed our names at Cape Cobb the 11th day of November in the year of the reign of our southern lord King James of England. Arnold Dominique, 1600 and 20. 41 men we number in our company. 41 signatures then are required. What about women? Aye, they're the troublemakers. They should be made to serve. You know full well that females put not their names to doctors. The time is short, my friends. Captain Jones is preparing to anchor. If you will step forward one by one and sign your name, over here on this table I have ready ink and quilts. If you will please step this way. I'll put my name to no such papers. All right, laws, constitutions. We're well rid of them. All right. We're not subscribed. Do I hear you refuse to sign? Aye, if you hurt us. Then you'll remain aboard the Mayflower. Huh? No man in this company will be allowed to set foot ashore until he has subscribed to this company. You think you'll keep us from landing after coming all this way? I am sure of it. Unless you sign. Sir, we thought this was a free country we were coming to. What a man could do is he please. No man, my friend, can be a law unto himself. A property there must be. In England, maybe. In any place where men would live and work together. Make your choice. Sign or remain aboard. It's an outrage. It's for your own protection. Let's go on deck and view this new world. You who have not yet signed the covenant, stay. What is your decision? Must it be made now? If you wish to land. I'm signing. And you sir? If there must be laws here, at least we'll have a voice in making them. Where's the quail? Here. And you sir? I subscribe. The Mayflower Covenant is complete. Even before they set foot on the soil of America, our forebearers displayed the spirit of self-reliance and as a community successfully faced the problems that confronted them without seeking outside aid. And these same brave pioneers, when they established the Day of Thanksgiving that we observe tomorrow, left us the priceless heritage of resolution and courage with which we face our own problems. Before we go on to this evening's second episode, our cavalcade orchestra will play one of Victor Herbert's loveliest melodies, Indian Summer. It moves onwards in the hearts of our people. They face hardships today with the same courage that helped our forefathers snatch civilization from the wilderness. The years go by until we reach another November. It is in the Wunoski Valley in the state of Vermont, November 3rd, 1927. November the 4th, to be exact, of a clock in the kitchen of the Sherburn farmhouse has already passed midnight. In the bedroom of the parlor, John and Jenny Sherburn are lying awake listening to the downpour outside. John, don't wake up. I ain't been asleep. Oh, me either. Wonder what time it is. At past 12, last time I got up to look. And we could only open up the window, Mike, so that it wouldn't be so close in here. Open up a window and we'd be soaked. Rain's coming from every which way. Yeah, I thought of a letter by now. It's coming down hard, I think. Just listen to that. It's getting colder, too. Well, if the goodness is, don't turn into snow. It'll be a blizzard if it does. Walloper. But at that, it's almost time for snow. It's only a few weeks till Thanksgiving. Yep. We've got a lot to be thankful for this year, too. Yeah, we ain't done with the bed. The farm's paid for itself for the first time since we bought it. By next year, John, we ought to have some money laid aside. I guess I'll get up and take a look outside. It's dark, John. You couldn't see a thing. I'll lay down and try to go to sleep. I can't sleep. That river making so much noise. Well, you've slept by that river all your life. I've never heard a roar like this before, though. I wonder if the cows is all right. Oh, the barn's kind of a drum. Yes, but it's down low there in the holler. John, you don't sleep. Listen. Listen to that river, Jenny. She's rising past. Well, she rises every year in the spring, and we never... Way up over the high mark for spring. She was over that when we went to bed. I tell you, I'm uneasy about them cows. I don't know what to do. Bobbin' with them because it's springtime. It's a telephone. Grace is done. Who can be calling anybody at this time of night? Somebody sick, most likely. Oh, whose ring is it? Listen, it's a general party ring. Father answered quickly. Yes, yes, I'm going. Oh, what's up in the dark there, Father? Yes. Hello? Hello? Yes. Yes. Some berries. Yes. Who is it, John? What happened? Then the Goshen. That bad, is it? John. All right. Thank you. I saw him lost. John, what is it? That's what I was afraid of. Only worse. Tell me. Flood. Yep. There were no skis on the rampage. Oh. There, in a way, buildings, knocking down bridges, washing out roads. One billion berries already bad hit. We'll get it for morning. They're sending word all the way down the line, warning folks. Oh, John. I'm late, Mother. I'll get some clothes on here. What are you going to do? I'm going to get the cows out of the barn and drive them up the hill, Pastor. Do you want me to come and help you? No, no, you stay here. There may be more messages. Central said they keep us posted as long as they could. No telling when the wires will be down. Oh. Now where's my boot? Here, here you are, Father. And here's the lantern. Thanks. What do you suppose to have started the flood? It's this time of year. There's no snow. Result? Result of unprecedented precipitation. That's what the report said. Unprecedented? Unprecedented precipitation. Well, what in the world does that mean? It means that it's raining like all carnations. For two days, the waters rise with unabated fury. Houses are carried away. Telephone and telegraph wires are down. Roads are swept away by the angry waters. The worst flood in the history of Vermont. The capital, Montpelier, is cut off from the rest of the state. In the city of Rutland, many miles away, the town clerk is receiving all communication. Ending any further report, Jim? The entire town at Ludlow's has been abandoned. Every last soul has moved out. Town's under water. Any casualties? We don't know. Hardest thing in the world to get anything definite from any of those sections that are hard hit with wires down, power off and all. How'd you get this much? Just by luck. By radio. What? The man-mature operator down that way. Just happen to pick it up. Good work. Another batch of telegrams are best for the governor. Okay, Jim. Mostly offers of help. Everything from airplanes to aspirin. Here's a telegram from Governor Smith in Albany, offering help from the state of New York. Food, clothing. Never see it. Say, I'd like to get this to Governor Weeks himself for good. Montpelier's still cut off. Nothing getting through? Not a thing. They're trying foot messengers now. They may be able to make it. We can't wait to forward messages like this before. Well, how else will we? Radio. They can still pick up messages and long be there by radio. I'll wire Governor Smith and ask him to broadcast his telegram to Governor Weeks. Take this message to Governor Alfred E. Smith, Executive Manchin, Albany, New York. Holder flood rages. Still the city of Montpelier has cut off from the outside world. On November 6th, in the Executive Manchin, we find the governor of Vermont speaking to his secretary. Get word to Major Perkins in Rutland. Tell him to open the state armory for refugees. Yes, sir. Burlington is rushing food and blankets. Yes, sir. That's all. Uh, what about all these messages then? Messages? These offers of help from the outside. They're pouring in every hour. Oh, yes, I know. Amazing, the generosity of folks at a time like this. They all want to know what they can do for us, what Vermont needs and the way of help. They're waiting for an answer, sir. I will tell them I'll issue a statement to the whole country. Yes, sir. Have the following message radioed to all state cities, organizations, and individuals who have offered help. Yes, sir. Please accept the thanks of the people of Vermont for all the generous offers of sympathy and assistance which have come to us. If we find the situation beyond our control, we shall be glad to call on outside help. Until then, Vermont will do as it is always done to take care of itself. Clubs in the history of Vermont. 125 kills. Over 16,000 homeless. Total property damage estimated at $25 million. In the general store at Williston, in the Winoski Valley, a little group of Green Mountain folks stood talking a week later. Among them is John Kerber. Morning. Well, it sure feels good to get in where it's halfway warm. Well, but still, we get room, I get it? Thanks. Glad to find some of you men together here. Now, I'm a reporter from New York Times. Yes, sir. I came up here to get a story. Story, yeah? Yeah, about the flood. Oh, yeah. Tender late, ain't you? Well, I don't mean regular new. This is the human interest story I'm after. Oh, yeah. You folks all live right around here, I suppose. Yes. You're here during all the trouble? Yes, we were. Well, I wish you'd tell me something about your experiences. Well, our experiences like everybody else is, I guess. I'd like to be able to report how you're getting on. We're getting on fine. Now, some of you have lost your homes, haven't you? Lots of us. We've lost our homes, lost our stuff, and our pasture lands, and our buildings. If you can go back home, young man, and tell your paper that we certainly appreciate your increase, but nobody needs to worry about the folks of Vermont. We're still eating regular. Thursday, November 24th, 1927. All through the devastated regions of Vermont, folks gather for Thanksgiving dinners provided by more fortunate communities. At John Turbin's farmhouse, a group is assembled around the table. Friends. Friends, before we set ourselves down to the turkey and fixings, I'd like to suggest that we pause for just a moment and give thanks to the Lord for our blessings. We've got a lot to be thankful for, you know, in spite of what's happened. We've got fine medical care for those that's sick, gringed. We've got up-to-date scientific knowledge to help us rebuild and get going again. We've got the assurance of financial backing those of us that needed. The state of Vermont has worked out all that, and we've got friends all over the country wishing as well. Compared with our forefathers who observed that first Thanksgiving, I'd say that we was mighty well off. Now, let's all join together and sing in the dark solitude. All right, Jenny? For that great American trait, the self-reliance of our communities, their ability to weather storms and to mount catastrophes, smiling, unflinting, today as in the pioneer hours of the Cavalcade of America. Although Americans are quick to rebuild after disasters, it doesn't take a catastrophe to create the urge for improvement, whether it's a matter of tearing down an old building and putting up a new and better one, or simply the improvement of machinery and materials. The chemist plays an important part in this rebuilding by creating new and better products. One example is found in the improvement in paints and enamels. For many years, DuPont chemists have devoted intensive research to the creation of better finishing materials. One example of their work is DuCo, already familiar to most of you, as the outstanding finish for use on automobiles and many articles used in the home. A later development is DuLock, also the result of scientific chemical research. In describing this revolutionary finish, one has to use a curious combination of examples, because DuLock resembles more closely in feel and hardness the qualities of ivory than any other material, and yet at the same time it has an unusual flexibility. DuLock's is used on many of the new streamlined trains and on some of our largest ocean liners. This product of chemical research also serves homes throughout America, for millions of refrigerators have been finished in DuLock. When you see how chemical research improves articles used daily, indoors and out, you can readily understand the full meaning of DuPont's phrase, better things for better living, through chemistry. Next Wednesday at this same time, DuPont will again present the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. W-A-B-C, New York.