 The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont. The DuPont Cavalcade of America wants to remind its listeners of the 1937 annual Red Cross Roll Call. There is no need to remind you of the worthwhile work this organization has done and is doing the world over. If you have not already joined, we know you will want to send your membership subscription to your local Red Cross chapter as soon as possible. This evening the DuPont Cavalcade tells the story of one of the greatest natural botanists that ever lived, John Bartram. Bartram collected, cultivated and cross-bred plants and flowers, not merely for ornamental purposes, but to increase their usefulness to mankind. In his garden were many plants used for medicine and chemical purposes. Today, many plants and flowers are used by the chemical industry as materials for study and research. John Bartram can be compared with a research chemist who works for the comforts and conveniences of his day and age. This method of improving existing conditions in many fields is aptly expressed in the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. As an overture, Don Voorhees and the DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra play Cole Porter's melodic old-fashioned garden. The DuPont Cavalcade moves forward. John Bartram was born of Quakerstock in 1699 in the township of Derby, about six miles south of Philadelphia. By the time he was 24, he had a farm on the banks of the Schoolkill River, which was given to him by his bachelor uncle Isaac. Shortly afterwards, he married a girl named Mary Morris. One day we find him plowing in a field as his wife approaches. Come on there. Go on. Oh boy. Well Mary, what does the out here in the field? It's such a lovely summer day, John. I thought I'd bring thy lunch out and join thee. That was a kindly thought. We'll be pleasant in the shade of the ocean. Come. Oh boy. How pretty the fields look. All white daisy. See that sod? How tilted were your plow turned. Why, it looks like a bonnet. When did thee ever see a bonnet with flowers on it? Not at friend's meeting, surely? No. And I'm glad we don't put them on our heads. They'd be out of sight of our eyes. Look Mary, how these flowers are made. It seems to be a regular scheme to them. Careful and exact as a snow crystal. Why, I see nothing but white petals in the yellow centers. They're all alive. No, not really. If you look at the center, you'll see it is not all alive. There's a division among these close packed yellow quills. I wonder what they're for. Well, it makes small difference. Since neither we nor the cattle can eat them. It seems strange. I've turned up so many millions of them and never before even thought to look at one. Mary, I'd like to know something about these flowers and vegetables and herbs that grow around us. And how could they do that? There's no time for learning things with all the farm work on thy shoulders. I'll make time for it Mary. I must know about these things. John Bartome had been self-taught. He could read and write and figure. But he had little book learning as it was called in those days. For the next opportunity he has to leave his farm work, he goes into the city of Philadelphia and enters the bookstore of a friend. Mr. Campbell. Oh, Mr. Campbell. Aye, coming. Ah, Mr. Bartome. I'm glad to see you in town. What can I do for you? I want a book that'll tell me all about flowers. You mean the vegetables and grains? No, I mean flowers and trees and shrubs and medicinal herbs. I want to know all about them. I've heard you're a good farmer, but I had no idea you're interested in botany. Is that what they call it? Aye. Well, what's the best botany book? There aren't many good or bad, but here's one I've recently got over from the old country. It's the latest, but whether it's good or not, I don't know. Can I see it? Here you are. You'll notice it's by a young man by the name of Linneas. He's living in Liden, Holland. Why, the book's in Latin. Aye. All books of science are written in Latin. I don't know Latin. Isn't there one in English? A few of the more popular scientific books are translated into the volga tongue, but this one is too new for that as yet. I'm afraid if you don't know Latin, you won't know botany. Then I'll learn Latin. You've got a good book for that. Aye. Aye, here is a good Latin grammar. It's a hard stepping stone to the knowledge I want. It does seem strange. You must learn Latin to know the little flowers that grow under our very feet. Well, I've taught myself what I know now. I'll teach myself more. If other men can master Latin, so can I. With the help of a schoolteacher, Bartram learned enough Latin in three months to read the scientific revelations of Linneas of Latin. It made a profound impression on him, and he determined to let nothing stop him in the compilation of a complete record with description and samples of all the vegetable life of America. One evening he comes home late for dinner and is greeted by his wife. Mary! Well, John, where's he been? It's late. Mary, I have great news. With a fine new parcel of land. More land? Where? I just bought it at the sheriff's sale. Five acres of it. Oh, it's a fair sight on the school field. It'll need some draining down by the water, but the upper land is dry. Too dry, in fact. We must manage to get some water up to it somehow. John Bartram, has he taken leaves like senses? He can't even farm all the land he has. I'm not going to farm this land. Then what's it to be? A garden. A garden? For the kitchen? No, no, just for flowers. Some of it will be from medicinal herbs, but most of it just for fine trees and flowers. I think they must be daft indeed. Trees and flowers grow everywhere. I know, Mary, but the joy will be to see them grow not everywhere, but all in one garden. Trees and shrubs and flowers from all over the colonies. From England even, and Holland. Oh, it'll be a rare sight. And new things will come of it. You wait and see. But trees don't grow overnight. It will take a long time to have thy garden. We're young. We'll see a lot of it bloom. But even if we don't, there's no harm in leaving good work to live after us when we're gone. And that's a long time to wait. That's one thing we've no time for. Waiting. I'll begin to plant our new garden tomorrow. The fine stone house, which still stands in the park, which was Bartram's original garden, was begun by Bartram's own hands. He used to work on it sometimes by moonlight after the necessary farm work was done. In 1727, his wife, Mary, died. Undaunted, Bartram went on with his work, for he had two little sons, John Jr. and William, to provide for. When part of the house was finished and the nucleus of his garden planned, Bartram found he had a house and a family without a home. In 1729, he married Anne Mendenhall of Concord monthly meeting in Delaware County, Pennsylvania. One day, about four years later, she comes looking for him in his garden. John! Save thy voice, Anne. I'm right here behind these bushes. Oh. The garden's getting so full of things. It's like a jungle. What brings you here? A letter from England. From Peter Collinson? Yes. Let me have it. Here it is. Oh, I hope. There's only everything. Anne. He got the shipment I sent in. And everything in good condition? Wait. No. Only what I had in the cedar box and some of the presents. But John, who would steal such things from thee? Rats, my dear, and insects. He writes me to try again with the roof. The next time to ask the captain of the vessel to put the box under his own bed. And I thought all would be well if the box escaped water soaking. There are many vexations between here and Europe, my dear. But more than water keeps it apart. Look here what he writes. He sent a copy of my letter and some of my cuttings to Linnaeus. Linnaeus, the great botanist at Leiden. Isn't that wonderful? The correspondence between Bartelman Peter Collinson, the world merchant of London, continued for 35 years. Collinson saw a great opportunity for people in Europe to learn about the plant life of the American wilderness. Botanists are naturists in England, Sweden, and Holland, received many shipments from Bartelman and sent him samples of rare things in exchange. Bartelman's estate grew in size. His fortunes increased moderately. He was busy and happy. And on each New Year's Day he kept open house. The festivity that ushers in the year 1751 is one of the best. I'll pass the punch, Harvey. Yes, Missy. Have you seen Mr Bartelman? Well, here in the hall telling some pooks, Harvey. Has Mr Franklin arrived yet? No, ma's been insured this week. Yes, there he is, talking to ma's John. I get his coat and hat. Well, let me have a glass of punch for him. He must be cold after his ride out from town. Yes, yes. I'll pass the punch, Harvey. Yes, Missy. Mr Franklin, welcome and a happy New Year. Thank you, Mrs Bartelman. A long and happy life to you. Thank you. You must be cold. Let me offer you a cup of punch. I'll accept the cup from your hand with honor. He's a courier to his fingertips, but he takes no more punch than I do. Still on a cold New Year. You know I try to be temperate. Is it strong? Oh, indeed, no. We make it from our own fruit. I use good side dishes. And you press it well, both in the making and on me. I'll drink a toast to you. I'll drink to your amazing capacity for work. Thank you. And I'll drink to your thoughts on all men's work. Work? John is more like a gypsy. Well, ma'am, I never could understand how he could keep so long away from home. From home? Why, I'm home the whole winter long. And all spring he's on horseback collecting blossoms in the Alleghenies. Last summer it was shrubs in the caskles. And last fall he went all over Virginia gathering seeds. Well, I have a seed that needs sowing, friend bottom. Indeed. Give me the name of it. But I hope it has an English name. But I'll look after our other guests while you do gossip. All right, my dear. Come into the library, Mr. Franklin. It'll be quieter in there. You don't mind a moment of serious talk on such a happy day? I'm happy to hear you talk no matter what it's about. Sit down, Mr. Franklin. Sit down. Thank you. Some years ago, we spoke of the need of an organization to encourage the arts and sciences in the colony. Oh, yes. The American Philosophical Society. I remember it very well. We drew up a draft of it about seven years ago with your name at the head of it. Ah, that was at your insistence. Well, you place mine next. Mines are good neighbors. It's too bad that society is not. It's too bad that society didn't come to life. It will in time. I'm afraid we were a little ahead of the season with him. Yes. It was nipped by a frost of inertia. But we'll have it yet. But one thing we are sure to have, because I can control that action, it is a standard book on medicine. I've always been interested in the study of medicine. The plants of America have many amazing medicinal properties. No one knows them better than you. Whose book are you going to publish? It's Medicine Britannica by Thomas Short. And I want you to write an appendix for it on American medicinal plants. I'm afraid I don't write very well. My spelling is full of invention. Well, many can spell and write too, and still say nothing. Whatever I know is at your disposal. Thank you. Now I'm assured the book will be useful to the whole world. You're prejudiced, my friend. Americans may have heard of me because I've dropped in on them in person from Nova Scotia to Florida. But the world is a larger place, except for Collinson and a few others. I'm a stranger abroad. That isn't what Linnaeus gave me to believe. Linnaeus? Ah, there's a botanist. Some found fault with him at first because of the way he arranges species and genera. But year by year they find him right. He's the most learned and brilliant botanist of them all. He has even higher praise for you. I've sent him hundreds of samples for many years, but he knows nothing of me except through what I send him. Then it is true that a man is known by his works. For Linnaeus says, you are the greatest natural botanist in the world. In 1765, Barton, to the interest of such influential English friends as Collinson, Lord Petrie and others, was appointed the king's botanist. This honor included an annual salary of 50 pounds, which helped him to finance his important work of collecting specimens and cultivating hybrids. For the purpose of getting seeds, Barton took long exhausting trips alone on horseback every autumn. One year his route takes him to Virginia, and in due course Barton reaches the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg, where two men have arrived before him and are waiting to cross by the lower ferry. Whoa, whoa! Now the fellow must be deaf. No sound asleep. Yet, Louis, your fellow ought to wake the dead. Oh, this is provoking. If he had to fall asleep, why didn't he choose our side of the river? Your pardon, gentlemen. But do I understand there is no way to raise the ferryman? We certainly can't reach over and tap him on the shoulder. Well, I'm not so sure of that. A dozen years ago, you could throw a stone that far, George, and did it often right here at this very spot. Well, I could try it. If a stone hit against his barge or near him, it might startle him. Here, hold my horse, Lou. Glad to. Here's a good round stone, George. No, I'd rather have one as flatter, like this one. Yeah, perhaps this one. Yeah, but I'm afraid I might hit the rest of it. I hope you do. Well, I'll aim not to. Now, stand clear, Lou. I need to space the ground for this. You look like a human catapult, as if you could throw across the Appalachian. Well, here she flies. Right to the mark. Yes, right to the flagging next to his foot. That startled him. Now he'll hear me. There are no need to call, Lou. He sees us now. Here he comes. Well, I guess, George, you're still as young as you feel. My friends, that was a truly amazing throw. I doubt if the average man could throw half that far. Oh, it's just a trick I've had since I was a boy, sir. I would take pleasure in knowing a man who can throw like that. George Washington is my name, and this is my good friend, Louis Willis. Colonel Washington. Well, this is a great honor. I'm glad to meet both you gentlemen. My name is Bartram. John Bartram. The botanist? Why, yes. I've heard about you many times, sir. I have a plantation on the Potomac. Do you go far on your journey? This time, I'm going down the Rappahannockaways and then cut across country to Williamsburg. From there, I'll go up the James River to the mountains. Well, that's a long trip, sir. I doubt you can accomplish it before snow gets bad in the Appalachian. I don't loiter much on the way. Well, I should say not. I've heard, George, that Mr. Bartram made one trip on horseback from the Catskills through the Alleghenies and into Virginia to Williamsburg a distance of 1,100 miles in only five weeks. Is that true, sir? Yes, that is true. You gentlemen want to cross? Yes, you lazy rascal. Yes, sir. Hey, get her up to the shore. There we are. Please stand at your horses' head, gentlemen, when you get them on board. Yes, we know. Come on. Come on, boy. Come on. Easy. Steady now. Steady. I wonder if you realize, Lou, the tremendous significance of Mr. Bartram's botanical expedition, not only in developing natural beauty, but also as a contribution to our agricultural progress. The fruits of his labor will return regularly and as beautifully as the spring. Bartram's devotion to his work was matched only by his tremendous energy and endurance. He collected seeds and plants needed in Europe and exchanged them for species which were sent to him and introduced by him into this country. Even at the age of 66, he explored the St. John River in Florida to its source. In 1777, his life work ended, but the results lived on after he was gone and as the colonies he had known became states, their capital was the city of Philadelphia, so near to his beloved garden. Bartram's garden became a favorite haunt of the patriots who molded this country's history. Thomas Jefferson, who lived just across the river, often used to come there with the age of Franklin to discuss the future of the country. One day in 1794, after the federal government had been inaugurated, President Washington and Alexander Hamilton are showing Bartram's garden to the renowned French patriot visiting the United States, Count Talleyrand. This is the Dark Avenue, Count Talleyrand. And beyond, there is a grove of hybrids created by Bartram. It is beautiful, Your Excellency. I am continually amazed at this state of luxury, science and civilization I find here on so new a country. The great work has been done here. It has only been begun, sir. And there's one place I like above all others, a bench under an eschelous parvier entwined with a luxuriant Tacoma. Oh, by such a name it must be wonderful to see. It is, Hamilton, and it's right at hand. Will you sit here, Count? Thank you, Mr. President. Eschelous parvier? Why, this is only an Ohio buckeye with a trumpet creeper vine on it. But isn't it beautiful? Beautiful, yes. But what practical use, what scientific purpose is served by all these beauties? What does it pull? Well, aside from its value, do you see him of living plans? Let me offer you an evidence. This pair from Lord Petrie's pear tree. Oh, thank you, Excellent. You'll find it delicious. And you'll find an increasing number of pears like it in the future. I see. It has been used to improve this strain of pears all through the colonies, eh? Yes, all through the state. Oh, about dawn. The abbey is one way. We all do that yet at times. Think of the patience of a man like Bartram, knowing all the time that he couldn't possibly live long enough to see the full fruition of his labor. There would not be a career suitable to an impetuous man like our secretary of the treasury. But the world has need of both such men. And our countrymen will enjoy the fruits of Bartram's labor. Even as we eat and enjoy this pear. Exactly. When you are refreshed, Count, we must see the herb garden. Bartram has given us a greatly improved strain of medicinal herbs. There's a strange chemistry in flowers that gives us many useful things. Can you put it that way, Mr. President? Bartram's work as human is great important. And perhaps Bartram's garden here was not for him alone, not even for us, but for the future. Yes. The seeds planted here will bear fruit for future generations throughout our land until Bartram's garden becomes all America. Bartram's garden was not merely for beauty, but for usefulness to succeeding generations. Poppy, foxglove, coca, hippocac, glucose, noxvomica, cinchona, and saccharose were among the species represented. Today the chemistry of flowers is supplying industry with a new source of raw materials. DuPont salutes John Bartram, pioneer Bartonist, as a leader in the cavalcade of America. Speaking of growing plants, here's news from the south. Dispatches from the southern states say that the cotton crop is probably the largest ever grown, with picking practically completed estimates indicate a bumper yield of more than 18 million bales. And thanks principally to research chemistry, that cotton will reach the public in more than 10,000 different forms. In developing such a great variety of new uses for cotton, chemists have created countless new products that serve nearly everyone every day. And by so doing, chemistry has opened entirely new markets for the cotton farmer's crop. The DuPont company is one of the cotton growers good customers. DuPont used 12 and a half million pounds of cotton in textile form last year. Fabricoid coated fabric produced in a wide variety of colors and surface effect for book binding, upholstery, luggage covering, and women's handbags is virtually an all cotton product, or it is created by coating a cotton textile base with a cellulose solution made from cotton. Tontine washable window shade material also comes from the cotton field via the chemical laboratory. Cotton seeds, which not so long ago were regarded as a nuisance, supply materials used by DuPont in producing such important products as paint and industrial explosives. And until recent years, this was known for cotton linters. The short fibers or fuzz left clinging to the seed after the long staple cotton is removed. Now DuPont chemists transform cotton linters into products such as rayon yarn and duco finish for your car. And cotton linters provide a raw material for pyril and plastic used today in making articles ranging from toothbrush handles and scuffless heels to safety glass. Safety X-ray film and photographic film are other uses, and even some of the enamels with which women tint their fingernails are of cotton origin. Yes, chemistry has done remarkable things with this snowy white fiber from our south land. And new products made from cotton are still coming from the test tube, bringing with them new industries and new jobs. Nine DuPont plants located in various parts of the country employ 7,000 people products that can trace their ancestry to some southern cotton field. In this story of cotton in the many ways chemistry has found to put it to work for you, we see one more example of what the DuPont company means by its pledge. Better things for better living through chemistry. At the request of a large number of our listeners, we have decided to repeat one of last year's most popular Cavalcade of America Broadcast. The Seeing Eye, the story of how dogs are trained to help the blind at the Seeing Eye headquarters in Morristown, New Jersey, will therefore be the subject of our broadcast when next week at the same time DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.