 starring Dane Clark and John Beale in Storm on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. But first, here is Ted Pearson with interesting information about two weed colors made by DuPont. Weed pulling and digging is a very hard and back-breaking job at best, and in the case of Poison Ivy, well, it's a dangerous one as well. Now, DuPont has two chemical products which destroy weeds, many kinds of weeds. Carmack's 2-4-D weed killer, which comes in tablet form and is mixed with water, destroys weeds and lawns, but doesn't harm the grass. The other DuPont weed killer is Amate. It's quick and sure death to such noxious weeds as Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, and Poison Stumax. Both weed killers are easy and safe to handle. Simply mix them in water and spray until the weeds are thoroughly wet. Carmack's 2-4-D and Amate weed killers are two more of the DuPont Company's better things for better living through chemistry. The DuPont Company presents Storm starring Zane Clark as the narrator with John Ville as Markley on the Cavalcade of America. Man lives by the weather and throttling. Man is made bankrupt by the weather. His works are destroyed, his life takes it, but until the earth grows cold, the cycles of life and weather will go on. This is an incident in that unending cycle. This is the story of a storm. In January, the sun rides deep in Capricorn, far from the northern pole. Unbroken darkness flies over the Arctic, and from the ever-deepening chill of that night, the cold air sweeps down. For two days now, from death's cold Siberia, a wide torrent of air has been sweeping southward. The great wind poured over the desert of Gobi, stormed against the Great Wall, and merciless it swept down upon the plains of China. The river of air moves southward along the coast of China and then out over the sea toward the far reaches of the Pacific, carrying with it the dust of the desert. The freighters' course lay over due west across the Pacific toward the coast of China. At nine that evening, the radio operator came on deck and spoke to the second officer. Wind shifted, hasn't it, Mr. Spencer? All right. You radioed the weather report back to the shore station, Jeff? Just about to. Something clear is happening. Look at the smoke from our stack. Look in the water. Something's getting ready to begin, all right? Well, I hope it's not for us. I want to be back in San Francisco by the end of March. My kid's birthday. Hey, that's funny. What? What is it? Well, we're hundreds of miles at sea, but I swear I smell dust. An hour before sunset of that day, one section of the coast front hit a small island. This obstruction caused a break. The southern air no longer yielded passively to the northern but actively flowed upward. Rising this air grew cooler and from it, a fine drizzle began to fall. As from the union of two opposite German cells begins a life, so from the contact of northern and southern air, there sprang something which before was not. A new storm was born. Weather Bureau. Hey, Chief, I'd like you to take a look at this map. Anything special? We just received a report from a freighter, the Byzantium. 300 miles southeast of Yokohama. There's a storm developing out there. Let's see yesterday's map. Should we use some rain? There it is, Chief. Yeah. Looks like a fast mover. Keep an eye on her. On the curve of the earth, the storm moves eastward, leaving Asia behind. Now a torrent of thundering wind and water, and electrical energy, it swirls over the darkened waters. In 30 hours, it has grown into a great rushing river there. Five miles deep, 500 miles wide. But the preacher's words illuminate. He too is of the land. He knows that the grass is withering and that his people suffer and are afraid. And if it be thy will, oh Lord, on this thy day, send us the rain. As of old, when thy people thirsted in the desert, thou didst command thy servant Moses to smite the rocky horribles, and the waters did blow forth. So raise thy hand, oh Lord, we beseech thee. Fast and grows fast. Now in its fourth day, it centers between the Hawaiian Islands and Alaska. Its northern fringe sweeps Kodiak and Dutch harbour. The rain pours heavier. The winds rise through gale and pensive. On the Pacific, the storm is merciless to the desertion. The rudder controls a smash, and there is no defense against the batter in the pound of the waves. The men still keep steam up, and the radio is working, and the crew wait. Weary and wet and bruised, they hang on minute by minute, waiting for the giant waves to hit, and wondering when she'll start breaking up. Markley, this is the lodges statue. You read about that ship that went from San Francisco called the Storm. Sure, any news on it yet? Yeah, another ship, Markley. That storm is moving this way, be on your toes. We'll be ready. Okay. Good night. Tough guy. A third of the world away, this storm has taken shape. Now in its sixth day, it is no longer a young storm racing its thousand miles a day. Now it moves with a steady, sure pace of majesty. It's coming as announced by neither thunder nor lightning, but along the beaches, the vast, unhurried pounding of the ground swell makes noise. That's far off. Some great force moves upon the water. What's the map look like, Case? Finished, Chief. Yeah, there sure will be plenty happening in California today and tomorrow. Yeah, there sure will. Why do you get on the phone? Storm warnings keep flattery to point conception. Small craft warnings, south of conception. Right, Chief? Uh-oh, that must be the newspaper again traveling for the forecast. I'll have it complete in five minutes but tell them to set the headlines and get ready. It's rain. Right here on page one, rain predicted, the storm of large proportions has now centered a thousand miles west of California. Take it out of that building, it's going to rain. Paper says so, going to rain. Going to rain. Rain. The storm roars in from the ocean and strikes the mountainous coast. Along the 500 miles from Cape Mendocino with the point conception, there is rain. Rain on the rocks and the headlands. Rain on the beaches and the goons. Rain on the high grass slopes. Rain sweeping in and over the surface of the shrunken rivers. Sweeping toward the broad valleys where the clouds were dry and the Earth's lake cracked. John, it's raining. Look, it's raining. Sure, honey, but don't get yourself all excited. It's only rain, not silver dollars. Dolls? I was just... I'll get it. Superintendent speaking. A couple of them went to San Francisco. I'll get them back. Check the lines. Anything wrong? Not yet. It's going to be Aurora. Right, we'll get right on it. Okay. Run over the gun. What's the matter, John? The LD's worried. About this rain? No, honey. About a storm. Over thousands of square miles, the rain is falling. The wind's swirling and the clouds are creeping close, close and swirling. In the mountain region, on the edge of a canyon stands a dam in a powerhouse. Links from the vast network of power and light. And here, too, stands the home of John Martin. Dear Daddy. You did surprise me, you little son of a gun. Happy birthday, Johnny. Thanks, darling. Thank you, son. Let's cut the cake now, huh, Mommy? Let's cut the cake. Oh, as we've had our dinner pulled. But I'm giving this present now, can't I? Where is it? Yes, dear. Here, Daddy. From your ever-loving son and wife. Open it, Daddy. Open it. Oh, let's see now. Well, son of a gun, a new suit. Put it on, Dad. It's double-sets. Sure, fella. After we eat. Oh, it's swell. Just a cup. Oh, dear. Keep your fingers crossed, honey. Powerhouse superintendent. Markley, the French bar 60KV line just went out. Well, we patrolled every inch of that line. Couldn't find a thing. I'm not blaming you. Plenty bad. You can't see 100 feet. OK, Markley. Get your men going. Well, there it is. You and Paul go ahead and eat. Later, Slugger, later. And be sure you save me some of that cake. You are listening to Storm starring Dane Clark as a narrator and John Beale as Markley on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company. A maker of better things or better living through chemistry. Overall, the valley rain is falling. Unceded land and stubble on pasture and fallow and orchards. It pours upon the fields of new wheat and barley. It turns the alfalfa bright green. Against all the long ramp out of the coast rain, the storm is beating. On its fourth day, the storm has taken a tremendous toll in property damage. Six lives have been lost. The storm is arising fast, and in many parts of the state, emergency crews have been mobilized to fight off possible floods. At the Sacramento gauge this morning, the reading was 23 years. From Fisker to San Diego, the storm ruled this domain. Over all of Central California, six days of rain saturated the earth. And now the streams move toward the valley. Into the North Fork and the South Fork. And the Middle Fork, the water pours out from every side canyon and gulps and gullies. The streams pour out from Willow Creek and Pilots Creek. From Nicobarca Creek to Widow Creek from Devils Creek and Roberts Creek and One-Eyed Creek. Out of the knoll and a hundred more, the waters come foaming. Johnny Marley wakes in the night. His house is near one end of French bar dam and close to the lip of the canyon. The house is of wood solidly constructed. He can feel the tough timbers give before the wind pressures. He hears the crash of the rain. Oh, Johnny! Johnny, what is it? A cloudbird. There'll be a lot of water down the North Fork. The dam's about to be full to the top now. Suppose it's still over? Oh, now, Rose, stop worrying. Then why don't they open the cruise gate? Johnny, they'll give me the order when the time comes. I've never seen it as bad as this. By dawn at the French bar powerhouse, everything is awash in the cloudbird. The gang is out tending to the line. Johnny Marley half drowned under the downpour. He's trying to do a dozen things at once to control the water. Yeah? Telephones. Coming. Thank you. So true to the bones. It's a load, this bag. Well, Marley speaking. What's happening up there? The water's up close to the top of the dam now. She's spilling no time. Okay. They're away working on the KV breakdown. I'll have to go myself. But you can't handle it, little old baby. I'll have to handle it. If that dam goes, the valley goes. Okay, boy, do it your way. I'll send help of... Johnny! I gotta get to the dam, Rose. What's the matter? There's a leak in the living room ceiling. What a pan under it! You're Johnny Marley, you don't wait. You said about doing what has to be done in the very best way you can. You hurry along the narrow trail at the lip of the canyon. A dozen rivulets cascade off to the space to the floor of the canyon 300 feet below. You pick your way along the trail. Your footwork as neat as a lightweight box is. It's not a healthy time or a place for a split. When the rain and wind strike against you, you crouch and pity yourself against the rocks on the upper side of the trail. You're in a hurry, but you take it slow. You've got to, all the way up to the top, to the dam. You cross over the narrow, stiffest concrete to the other side. You unpadlock the little steel door just below the overhang of the dam. You go in, close behind you, and snap on the light. You're in a narrow passageway inside the solid concrete of the dam. A few yards away is a hole just large enough for a man to descend. As far down the hole, one electric light after another, far apart, glows with a dull west gleam. You lower yourself to the hole. Your foot climbs a steel rung, ejecting from the concrete wall. Your hand grasps the upper rung. You begin to descend. Your shoulders and hips scrape against the concrete. The water drips down on you from above. You go down steadily, without hurry. You know you have 230 feet to go. By yourself is something to do. The great dam, millions of tons seems to press down on you. The air is so wet now, you seem to be breathing water. Sure is a busy day. Always washing away, a leak in the living room ceiling. Sure is a busy day. The lights, they're blown. Maybe I opened those gates too late, and the dam's filling. That's all, brother. I'm finished. No. Easy, guy. Easy. The lights are out, that's all. Might be for any reason. Sure. No jitters. That's stuff for the kids. The ladder's right here someplace. Walls do not run to the nearest exit. The ladder. Where's the ladder? Okay. Let's get out of here. Your right hand finds a steel rung, wet, cold, slick. You begin to climb upward and you count. One, two. You know every detail of the dam. You have to climb upward 230 feet. The rungs are 10 and a half inches apart. 269 rungs, hand over hand, foot following foot. 98, 99, 100. You rest now. There is a pain across your chest and your ankle's in numbness. It's just a little bit. I gotta rest now. I cut the climates and got sick. Son of a gun, he knows his stuff. I gotta get out of here. You may be spilling it. There's too much water coming in here. You move on. You take the next 100 rungs without stopping and you rest again. You take the last 69 rungs with a rush. You're wondering what's happened to your powerhouse down below in the canyon. Is something's wrong? Are the diamonds okay? Are they too late? Is it spilling? Just tumble towards the door where the light is leaking in. You fling open the door. You're too late. The dam is spilling. You're cut off by a solid wall of seething water. You're trapped. You look around for an opening. In front of you, only the sheer wall of the dam, the water pouring open. Behind you, a few feet away, the ground falls off and disappears into the canyon. No. Can't wait it out here. It's not in the gun. I gotta get down to the powerhouse. Those dynamo's a delicate as baby. Yeah. But daddy's up here. High on the side of a giant cup and the bottom 300 feet down. But if I'm careful and lucky, maybe I can do it. Maybe I can belly crawl my way across under the spill of the dam. But to get through this wall of water. I'm pinned on this slippery rock shelf like a butterfly on a blotter. Okay. Stand still. Now, just look around. Right outside the iron door. You've just come through. You see a worn and rusted half inch table. It looks long enough. It'll hold a man. Just beyond the fall of water. Three rock stands close together, close to the rock shelf. You know that if you know every inch of the stand. You loop one end of the cable and you pound it with rock. You get a firm footing and you throw the loop cable. One. Twice. Doesn't happen. Seven times. Eight times. On the 12th throw it holds. You grab the cable. You feel your lungs full. You're pushed out of the screaming space and headed to the waterfall. You're swept across and you hit it's bounce off the side of the canyon. You're hanging in space, but you hold on with every inch. You don't dare move. Then you move your right knee and you feel the rock. Only then do you loose one hand and move it up on the cable for a fresh grip. And slowly and painfully you pull yourself up, up over the canyon's lip and onto the pass. And with the water running out of your skin, you stumble down the pass of the powerhouse. And suddenly for some reason, you notice that your panties are going out. Son of a gun. Now I'll have to find time to try on that new suit. The tent on the 11th. For 11 days the storm had flourished and had been strong. And now in the 12th day of its life, the storm has died. And the weather bureau of the teeth traces a new storm wave forming off the coast of Japan. But the present storm, the great and terrible storm, finished. Is it the preacher, the son of David King and Jerusalem? Wind goes toward the south and turneth about, but whirleth about continually. And the wind returneth again according to the system. Tim Clark and John Beale will return to our cavalcade microphone in a moment. Now here is Ted Pearson. Last week in Detroit, Michigan, the center of the automobile industry, automotive engineers and designers started a fashion show, an automobile fashion show, at which were exhibited a dozen cars of different models and makes, finished in new glowing colors never seen before on any automobiles. These new Yuko Metallochrome nitrocellulose lacquer colors came from the laboratories of the DuPont Company, where Metallochrome is the latest addition to DuPont's famous line of Yuko lacquer finishes. Forty years ago, automobiles were finished by skilled coach painters. Slowly, laboriously, they build up coat after coat of paint and varnish, waiting for each coat to dry and then rubbing it to a high polish by hand. Weak even months were required. It was the invention of Yuko Lacquer, which made the mass production of automobiles possible, in the sense that Yuko Lacquer provided a finish that dried in minutes rather than hours or days. And now, we have Yuko Metallochrome, which surpasses in beauty and durability lacquers formerly used for this purpose. Yuko Metallochrome lacquers are different in two ways. First, the hues are different. There are new shades in gray and green and brown never before seen on cars. These new colors are made possible by a new technique for dispersing pigments. Some of them employ a new pigment material, both developments of DuPont chemical science. Second, Yuko Metallochrome colors have a property which can be described only as a glow. They glow because they're translucent. Light actually enters the paint film and is reflected from within instead of merely being reflected from the outer surface. It is the case with conventional opaque finishes. As a result, the colors have a subtle iridescent quality. They enhance the graceful flowing lines of the car. Not only are these new Yuko Lacquer finishes more lustrous and beautiful, but they're also more durable. This extreme durability has been proved by over four years of laboratory and road testing. Yuko Metallochrome Lacquer is the worthy newcomer to the ever-lengthening list of the DuPont companies better things for better living through chemistry. Our stars, Zane Clark and John Beale. Hey, Dwight, John asked me to tell you that. Say, what was that? Well, that's what I had to tell you. It was John rushing back to the voice of the turtle who's appearing in that Broadway hit you now. What's the show up next week, Dwight? An exciting story of the Old West starring Dean Arthur. Dean Arthur? That sounds good to me. I'll be listening. Good night, Dwight. Good night. Zane Clark can currently be seen in the first kind of man produced by Warner Brothers. The music for tonight's DuPont cavalcade was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Voorhees. Our cavalcade play was written by Milsen White and was based on the book Storn by George Stewart. This is Dwight Weese inviting you to listen next week to the Petticojury starring Dean Arthur on the cavalcade of a lyrical brought to you by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is NGC, the national broadcasting company.