 The Cavalcade of America. It seems particularly appropriate that this broadcast of the Cavalcade of America presented by Dupont should happen to occur on February 12th, the birthday of that beloved American president, Abraham Lincoln, who typifies so many of the fine qualities of American spirit brought out in this series. It is our privilege tonight to re-enact several episodes in the life of this rugged, gentle, sensitive soul, who knew few comforts but many trials and hardships, and who triumphed over every obstacle through sheer depth of character. As you sit at your radio this evening amidst the comforts of modern life, give a thought to the work of the chemist who have made many present day comforts possible. The ideal of the research chemist is well described in the phrase which has come to be known as the Dupont chemist's pledge. Better things for better living through chemistry. Nowhere in the Cavalcade of America are the qualities and characteristics that we like to term truly American so well exemplified as in the life of the man whose birthday we celebrate this evening. The Dupont Cavalcade Orchestra dedicates its overture to the memory of Abraham Lincoln with a specially arranged fantasy based on popular American themes. From poverty overcame a lack of education. He dared believe that he was intended for an exalted career. But long before he became president he was a young boy who in his thirst for knowledge borrowed every book within 50 miles of his home. One such book is the prized possession of a neighboring farmer and young Lincoln comes to return it to its owner. Well, Dan, you've finished the reading of it. Why, it weren't more than a fortnight ago that you borrowed it. I won't have time to read it again for winter anyhow. Mrs. Me are mighty proud to have a book like that. It's only one of the state, I figure. Yeah, I know. That's why it's kind of hard. Hard? Yes, yes. Any kind of reading comes hard. Especially for us folks without schooling. But it's a comfort. That book and the reverend weems on the life of Washington and the Holy Bible is all the reason matter we have. Mr. Crawford, I ruined your book, sir. Was that bad storm we had yesterday? The rain blew in through the cracks in the logs of our cabinet and got the book soaking wet. I dried it out, but it's ruined, sir. Well, that's too bad. I kind of set a big store on that book. The books are kind of scarce in these parts. I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Crawford. I haven't got any money to pay for it. Haven't you got some chore I could do, sir? Some clown or helping you with the winter's wood? No, but I'll tell you what you can do to pay for that book. I don't want to be hard on you. Now, I suppose you give me three good days of corn father pull-up. Yes, sir. When can I start? Well, I suppose you can come over bright and early tomorrow morning. Yes, sir. I'll come. I'll be here before sunrise. Young Abraham Lincoln tried his hand at many things as he grew to manoeuver. He clerked in store. He soldiered in the Black Hawk War. He tried surveying and for a time was postmaster of New Salem, Illinois. But his love of books and reading never diminished. In 1834, he and William Berry were partners in a general store in New Salem. We find them outside their place of business, sitting on a bench. Eh, matters well sat here in the sun and sat inside the store and wait for customers that don't come. Can't you never stop reading names? Why stop reading? There's lots of it to do. You aren't here long enough to do it as the mosquitoes said as he started out as a fax man. Eh, but reading don't help in unrunning a story. Nothing seems to help. We've got so deep in debt here, Berry, I think we'll have to change to something else. You're always talking about paying off our debt. No wonder I hear them calling you Honest Abe. What you likely to change to? But the idea sometimes I'd like to be a lawyer. Lawyer? Say, take a side of reading to be that. What's that book you have there? A law book I've got over at Brentfield. Booked over to get it. Say, that's 40 miles over and back. I had quite a part of it walking home. I don't think I got the right one. I need something to get down to fundamentals. Ah, hello. There comes another mover. Seems if the world was moving west. Something off this load for your store? They have a good deal more now than we can sell. I'm surprised. I can't hold this load no longer. Got to get rid of some of it. How about that barrel back there, that one tied off with the first thing? I can not. How about half a dollar? Well, stranger, if you need a half a dollar here. Catch it. And keep your barrel. You wouldn't make that call if I understand anything. I'm telling you, I don't want that barrel more than I do want the half dollar. All right, I'll make the trade. I'll lift off the barrel. I'll trade 200. All right, so I don't know what I'm going to do with it. Thanks, stranger. Hope you won't regret your trade. Get up there. What have you got? I'm dying, I reckon. Big books way down the bottom. Commentaries on the laws of England by William Black. It is just what I want. I reckon that settles it, Barry. For half a dollar, I've got my decision. These books are fundamental. Apparently, I have to be a lawyer. Young Lincoln read and studied law diligently and was finally able to start in practicing in Springfield, the capital of Illinois. But he seemed always anxious to use his talent for those in undeserved distress. A wandering theatrical troupe came to Springfield. With the leader, Joseph Jefferson II and his handsome wife, was their ten-year-old son, Joseph Jefferson III, who much later was to immortalize himself as Rip Van Winkle. Mrs. Jefferson is speaking to her husband as he and his company work on a carpentering job. Joe, it looks beautiful. Yes, rough work on rough lumber makes a pretty good theater. What do you think of it, son? I think it's grand, father. I'm glad you and mother won't have to play in a bar. But hasn't it cost you great deal, Joe? It has. Every cent we've saved on the tour. I see we're attracting more and more attention. Here comes another group of townspeople to look at the theater. That man ahead, Mr. Jefferson, has been around here several times. Good. We're glad to welcome our future patrons. Good morning, sir. Are you the head man of these showmen? I am the manager and leader of a company of distinguished players, sir. We're bringing to this fair city the masterpieces of the immortal bar. Maybe and maybe not. Tomorrow night we shall delight you with Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Maybe and maybe not. I'm at a loss, sir, to understand your doubts. Mr. This is a religious town. And we are going to hold no play act. I'm sure that by all law and order we have a right to present these great plays without interference or molestation. Maybe and maybe not. The town's been watching you, Hamlet, of this new building. We don't like it. If the den of vice and sin that just happened up here, I am an officer of the law. And unless you pay the money now, we'll run you out. Why, there is no license fee. We inspired when we came four days ago. Oh, there wasn't then, but the Council of Springfield, Good, Righteous, and God Fearing Men met your city in past one. And a pretty considerable one, too. I reckon there won't be any princes of Denmark around here when you heard it. I can use that lumber, Kim. One A will have that. Here on this paper it says, By the authority of the Council, No actor or association of actors shall present a stage play within the bounds of Springfield without payment of $500 for each room. $500? Why, this is an outrage. That's more money than we could possibly clear in the whole summer season. Yeah, just so. Well then, perhaps you'd better pack up where you come from. I beg your pardon, sir. Are you in trouble? Great trouble, sir. This officer is virtually ordering us out of town and confiscating our playhouse. I've heard about this new ordinance. I have a copy somewhere. Let me see. Where is it? Inside my hands. Might I have any help? Who are you? My name is Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln, a lawyer. It's not much of one, perhaps, but ready to take a case like this. Oh, sir, please, how can we thank you? You're interfering with the law, Lincoln. I reckon that's what lawyers are for, sometimes. Mr. Lincoln, our troops can't find words to thank you. We'll pay you any fee you say if you will wait for it and if we can earn it. Well, now to the fee. The money is rather scarce for this just now, and if I win and you can manage it, I'd appreciate a ticket to your play. Next morning Abraham Lincoln appeared before the Council of Springfield, and his eloquent plea for the theatrical performers won the repeal of the unjust ordinance. Love of justice was the keynote of Lincoln's character, and many examples of this trait were found in his legal career. He would not defend a guilty person or press an unjust claim, but for those he believed unjustly oppressed or innocent of a crime, he was always willing to give what aid he could. One such case came to him while he was still in Springfield, practicing with William Herndon. I don't figure you'll be remembering me, Abe. Mr. Lincoln, I mean. What? What happened? Herndon, I'm strong. Oh, you did remember. You did. I was afraid. Remember why? It's unlikely I'll ever forget the days in New Salem. How's that husband of yours? Does he still think he could outrattle me if it comes to a pinch? Oh, you are the same. You haven't changed a bit. You're older, of course, and you look kind of peeky, like you ain't been eaten or sleeping regularly. But tell me, Hannah, tell me about yourself. Oh, sit down. Sit down. You look kind of tired. I am tired, Abe. And worried. That's why I've come all the way here to see you. I know if anyone could help it, it'd be you. They say you've come to be a right fine lawyer. Oh, look here, Hannah. Don't you tell me Jack's gone and got himself tangled up with a law of his age? No, it ain't Jack. It will, my boy. You remember Will? Of course I remember. He used to play horse in my feet. He used to claim they were most as big as ponies. He must be almost a grown man now, Hannah. He is, Abe. And he's in trouble. Terrible trouble. Oh, Abe. Oh, no, Hannah. Maybe it isn't as bad as you think. Most troubles aren't. But this is. He's been accused of murder. Murder? Yes, they're going to try him over to Beardstown in just a couple of weeks. Everybody thinks he's going to be convicted. They say he hasn't a chance. But he's innocent, Abe. I know he didn't do it. I know it. Oh, no, Hannah. There's no time to give way to tears. You save those for the jury. Suppose you tell me just what happened. Well, it happened at a camp meeting near home. Oh, it's horrible, Abe. Oh, Will. Just take your time, Hannah. Tell me everything you know. Well, it was that summer. A man named Metzger was killed. And they've arrested Will, because he's had some trouble with him. And the court has somebody that swears he saw Will hit Metzger over the head. Oh, Abe, I've talked to Will, and he's sworn to me that he didn't do it. Will wouldn't lie to me. I don't think he would, Hannah. But the jury won't believe him, Abe. They won't, will they? No. If it's just his word against that other fellow, they probably won't. What are we going to do? Well, start with you straighten up your bonnet, Hannah. We're going to Beardstown and find some way of making that jury believe Will's story. Up to the day of the trial, there seemed to be little chance that the son of Lincoln's old friends would ever go free. As the trial progressed, Lincoln seemed to do nothing but sit beside his client and stare out of a window. As the prosecutor finishes with his star witness, Lincoln gets slowly to his feet. Young man? You realize you're under oath? Yes, sir, I do. And that to lie is to commit perjury? Yes, sir, but what I'm telling is the truth. You claim that on the night of the murder, you were standing 30 yards from the scene of the crime. Yes, sir. Would you mind repeating just how you were able to be so certain that the perpetrator of this foul crime was the defendant, William Armstrong? Well, sir, as I said before, it was a full moon. It was almost as bright as day. I saw young Will Armstrong and Metzger having an argument and pushing each other around, and all of a sudden, we'll pick up a piece of iron and hit Metzger over the head with. Then he ran. And it was only because of the brightness of the full moon, high in the sky, that you were able to see so well from a distance of 20 or 30 yards. Yes, sir, that's it. If there had been no moon or a young moon, you wouldn't have been able to see what happened at all. Is that not true? Well, yes, sir, that's true. That's as I thought. You have perjured yourself before this court. Gentlemen of the jury, I submit that this witness, the witness upon whose testimony the prosecution hopes to convict my innocent client, has lied. I object. Mr. Lincoln must prove that statement. Order in this court, order. Upon what evidence and authority do you make this unusual charge, Mr. Lincoln? Upon the evidence and the authority of this book, I hold it in my hand. The albinac, in which it is clearly shown that on the night of the crime, at the time the witness says the crime was committed, it was only a half moon. And instead of riding high in the sky, it was setting. Lincoln's years of struggle and failure before his election to the presidency and the trying hours during his administration are recorded in the very heart of the nation to which he gave his life. At the height of his career, a nation mourned his tragic death. But perhaps more than any other, his passing brought sorrow to his devoted stepmother, Sally Bush Lincoln. One evening, shortly after the president's untimely death, William Herndon, Lincoln's one-time law partner, visits the home of that kindly woman, who perhaps more than anyone else guided and counseled young Abraham in his formative years. He is shown into a neat little sitting room. My dear Mrs. Lincoln, I wish my visit might be on a happier occasion. I felt I must come. You were his friend. It was kind of you to come. Won't you sit down, Mr. Herndon? Abraham's folk of you are on his last visit. Of me, Mrs. Lincoln? Surely in the troubled years that have passed, with the cares of the presidency, he must have had little time to think of those of us who knew him in happier days. Being our president didn't change him, Mr. Herndon. Why, he even found time to come here to visit me. But that was only natural, his mother. You forget. I was only his stepmother, not his flesh and blood. No woman could have been more of a true mother to him. Many times I've heard him say those very words. You were never far from his thoughts, very close to his heart. I loved my own son, John, but not a bit more than age. My mind, that little I had, seemed to be like his. Abraham was always a good son to me. Even when he grew to man, he didn't forget. I remember the last time he came with snowing heart and just terribly cold. But it was my birthday. He didn't want to disappoint me. He came. That's just where you're sitting now. He looks so tired. A strain of being president, all but wrecked his health. Yes, that was plain to see. And he seemed to have strange feelings that he hadn't longed to live. I didn't understand. But when he left me, he took my hands in his and said, this may be the last time we will see each other. I've set myself the task of writing the story of his life. I think folks will want to know in the years to come. It's the little I can do to acknowledge a fine friendship. Abe was a good boy. I can say what not one mother in the thousands can say. Abe never gave me a cross word. And so passed from the marching ranks of the American cavalcade to camp in the Bivouac one Abraham Lincoln. To many others, Abraham Lincoln stands as the last great hero of pioneer America. After him and because of him, the cavalcade of America marched on to a new nation, a new day of increased opportunity for one and all. But although the frontiers of America have gradually disappeared, the pioneer spirit has not been lost. In every walk of life today, there are men whose vision partakes and who are devoting their lives to ideals akin to his. Among them are the men of science, pioneering in their laboratories, seeking the truth, doing their part to make the nation a better place in which to live. The research chemists and laboratories like those of DuPont are fulfilling a service to humanity which is well expressed in the DuPont Chemists Creed. Better things for better living through chemistry. Abraham Lincoln will undoubtedly have a special interest for many listeners. So we are happy to announce that the manuscripts containing these little known stories of Lincoln as presented on the air will be sent free of charge to anyone who writes DuPont Wilmington Delaware. We should greatly appreciate having school teachers give the name of their school and the class they teach. Ask for the radio script entitled Abraham Lincoln, a true American. It will be sent free to you. DuPont will again present the Cavalcade of America. Our next broadcast will dramatize the conquest of rivers by American bridge builders. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. WABC, New York.