 The Cavalcade of America. Many, many listeners to the Cavalcade of America presented each week at this time by Dupont have written letters of appreciation. We take this opportunity to thank all these people for their kindness, and we quote a comment from Miss Mabel Thatcher Washburn, president of the National Historical Society as follows. Certainly the Dupont Company is rendering a real service in presenting episodes and phases in our country's history so full of drama, of thrill and romance, but yet so little known to the great proportion of the people. I congratulate you on this endeavor and hope your important work may be continued. It is likewise the hope of the sponsor that all our listeners are finding interest and information in the little stories of chemistry that are included in these broadcasts to illustrate Dupont's phrase Better things for better living through chemistry. Let us turn the calendar back to the 1890s when the horseless carriage was new and before there was any radio or movies. Our Cavalcade Orchestra takes us back with three songs of that time, After the Ball, On the Banks of the Wabash, and Sweet Rosie O'Grady. Long been a shining boast of the Cavalcade of America. Our story begins in the autumn of 1889 in a big, shabby old mansion left standing deep in the slums of Chicago's south side. A young woman, pretty Jane Adams, talks to a caller, a young man from her hometown. Folks in Cedarville could only understand what you and Ellen are up to, Jane, but for two young girls to move into the worst section of Chicago, no one understands it. Well, it's hard to explain, Bill, but Ellen and I want to see how less fortunate people live and what we can do for them. Oh, we've got a lot of bottled-up idealism, and a settlement house is a good place to use it up. A settlement house? Did you make up that name yourself? No, the London Homes that serve laboring people use it, but we're not going to be quite so preachy as some of them. You see, we're not a mission, nor a hospital, nor a school. Well, what are you for heaven's sake? Why, a place to be friendly and for anyone who cares to come. Of all the strange ideas. A place where people can drop in, you know, like they might in a small town, where they know they might be asked to stay to suffer, that is, if there is any suffer, but at least where they can stay and talk or strum the piano or leave their babies to be minded, where they can find gayity or consolation, whichever they need. Well, I suppose you know what you're after, but right out of anyone else ever will. Miss Adams, I don't want to butt in, but I just got a minute to see you. Well, Rosa, come in. You're our very first neighborhood caller. Miss Adams, I only run in to tell you I don't death come to the night classes like I said I was, because my old man's kind of off his nutty when he says there's a string tied to it somewhere. A string tied to it? He says there ain't nobody gives you something for nothing in this world. Almost Adams, he's had an awful hard time since he come to this country, and he don't believe in nothing, see? He says if he was a man, he'd think he was running for Oldman from this district, but since you're a woman, he can't figure out what you're up to. Rosa! Listen, I gotta go. I posted that kid to yell if you saw me, old man. I just wanted to say why I wasn't coming to the English classes, and... Oh, yeah, here's that book you lent me. Oh, Rosa, you keep it. Can I? Oh, gee. Rosa! Come on, Miss Adams. Thank you. What was the book you gave her? Appreciation of Abraham Lincoln. I hope her father reads it. He'll know that there was a man who'd have given something for nothing. It's too bad, Jane. Are you going to have a hard time if even the people you're trying to help won't believe in you? Oh, but they will. I'll make them. You know, once I read somewhere that the things that are alike in people are better and finer than the things that keep them apart. Well, it's true, so I know I'll be able to prove it. Proving the brotherhood of man. That was young Jane Adams' work on the south side of Chicago. They went over the slum people to give them free kindergartens, free night schools and clubs to wash their babies, mind their children, care for the sick, and comfort the bereaved. That was the doctrine of Hull House. But though Chicago became quickly interested in the settlement house, there was always one great problem, the need of money. A few years later, in the living room of Hull House, Jane Adams talks to a small colored boy. Did you have enough to eat, child? Yes, I got plenty to eat. Thank you. You're welcome. Now I want you to tell me, why do you and the other children come and stand in our doorway these hot days? Because it's out of the sun. Cool, but haven't you got homes around the neighborhood? Yes, but you see, our mammy's works out. They don't want to leave us in a room. There might be a fire or something. So you're turned out on the street. Well, what does your mammy do with you in the winter? Well, I go to school, but she takes a chance and ties my little brother to the kitchen table. You want this penny, ma'am? What's the penny for? Your lunch? Yes, ma'am. Mammy gives me a penny every day to get something to eat. Well, you keep the penny. And beginning tomorrow, when it's noon time, you bring the other children down in the entrance inside the house and we'll give all of you lunch. Will you remember? Oh, yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. Well, oh, Ellen, I heard part of that tater-tater, Jane. Where do you think you'll get money to feed that army? Ellen, are we short on funds again? There isn't even enough money to finish fitting out the gymnasium. That's what we wanted first. I beg your pardon. Oh, come in. I hoped you don't mind. I heard anyone was welcome to walk right in and look the place over. Well, they generally do it anyway. My name's Kent, William Kent. Maybe you've heard of me because I inherited a lot of money. Oh, yes. I'm a single man. Any amount on something that'll interest me, I'd like to invest. I'd prefer something, of course, that could have my name on it. Oh, well... Oh, the first thing that came into my mind was lunches for the children of working women in the neighborhood. But, of course, they wouldn't have your name on them. I'm afraid that wouldn't do. What did I overhear you saying to this other lady about a gymnasium? Oh, yes. Oh, but you see, we've got the building and... Well, we sort of thought we'd name it for the woman who helped us. Of course, we... Well, there's plenty of time for you to think of something. No hurry. Mr. Kent, wait. Aren't you the man who owns those two big tenements over on Polk Street? Well, yes. I believe those are my buildings. Well, I know just what you could do. Tear them down. Tear them down? My own buildings? But they're awful, Mr. Kent. Now, if you tore down those buildings in that congested distance... Mr. Adams, I'm afraid you're the fanatic people say you are. I get rent from those buildings. Oh, but you've just assured me you didn't need it. Well, you came here especially because you're generous and because you wanted to help. Well, it wasn't what I intended to do at all. Oh, how good of you. Believe me, Mr. Kent, it's the best memorial you could have. Well, thank you. It's all come so suddenly. How soon would you have them torn down? Oh, I can't tear them down because I have no money. But we'll work with you on placing the families in better homes. But look here now. I have to give up the buildings and pay for wrecking them. Well... I'm sorry, Miss Adams. I'm afraid I have to be going. Think over some reasonable request and notify me. Good day. Good day. I've lost him. Oh, how stupid of me. I'm sorry I slammed the door, Miss Adams. Perhaps, um... Yes, I suppose I can tear down those buildings. Oh. But don't ask me to put up any new ones. Good day. Oh, Ellen, we have a playground a whole block long. I'm not sure the young man knows it yet. Hull House gained the playground for the south side, and the basis for Chicago's present playground system was laid. Other Hull House experiments showed the way for civic and social improvements throughout the country. Yet, in many Hull House ventures, Jane Adams found bitter opposition. A few years after her settlement's opening, Miss Adams greets two callers. Gentlemen, have you come to see me again about the sweatshop bill before the legislature? Miss Adams, after we called on you yesterday, we went back to the men who sent us here. The men who owned shops of the sort that were put out of business. If this bill you're backing so hard becomes a law in Illinois. Well... We told them you couldn't be talked out of your stamp, so they've got another proposition. What do you mean? We can offer you $50,000 to build up Hull House. No strings tied to it. No strings? Except to forget my interest in ending sweatshops. Well, naturally. $50,000 is a great deal of money, and I could use it. But when it comes to forgetting the things I've seen, dark basements where women huddle to finish work that'll net them five cents a day, or rickety lofts where children bend over ten hours long tasks, sobbing as they work, those things I can't forget. Well, I respect your courage, Miss Adams. And don't forget you're making a certain element this town pretty mad. Gentlemen, we'll fight tooth and nail for this sweatshop bill. And, well, if Hull House is destroyed in the fight, well, there'll always be other neighborhoods, other people who need helping. Hull House was not to go down. It was to prosper and send into public service from its expert staff countless women who have won distinction through their brilliant deeds of service. After 50 years at Hull House, Jane Adams' idealism received such universal recognition that she was awarded the Nobel Prize for her labors in the cause of international peace. Although Jane Adams has passed on, her spirit is strong in her fellow Americans, in women who give of themselves unselfishly for public service. Two melodies of today. I dream too much and I'm the echo by Jerome Curtin. Both from the motion picture, I dream too much. We are in one of the wayside cabins of the two young women, Mary Colton and Helen Burns. Stop her, Betty. I'm so tired, I don't know if I can eat. You got a letter from home? Yes, from my aunt. Read the last paragraph. I've been thinking about it all day. Let's see. A job in the city. Yes, you remember the city. Bright lights, gay people and a date now and then. Oh, I know how you feel. I get streets like that myself, wondering why I'm in this lonely place, grinding my strength out. Certainly there is any money in it, there is many things. Well, I haven't quite made up my mind, but remind me on Wednesday, will you? I have to wire my aunt then. Yeah. I'll remind you. Maybe I'll feel better when I've had some sleep. What's that? I'll open it. Well, what's the matter, Charles? Get your bread, youngster. What's the matter? I've been running most of the last five miles. Well, little brother's mouth is sick with a choking in his throat. Can you come fast? I'll go settle up. He'll have to ride back to show me the way, Helen, so get some food inside him quick. I will. Hills of Kentucky, the frontier nurses ride at all hours on errands of mercy. Mary Colton with a hillboy Augie riding behind her to guide her speeds along a trail to answer the plea for help. Are you all right, Augie? Hang on to me. It's a mighty path for horses we're riding, ma'am. I've got my arms tied around your middling. If you want another packet, family Augie, I don't see why I took you so long to reach our cabin. I've come the long way round. We had a meeting with Carter. Are your tin folk in the feud with the Carter's? It ain't like the Tackets and the Carter's got a feud, ma'am. It ain't like we're friendly and other. Carter's is a race full of feistiness and honoriness. Go up, ma'am. We're coming to the fort in a little cool creek. I see it. Easy, Star. Easy, boy. Star doesn't like cold water very well. Oh, come on, Star. Get into it. Come on. Good. You think he'll try it? Fire! Fire! What's up? The Carter's a wrecking sack of his, ma'am. That's all love says. Whoa, Star. Don't, whoa, Storms. You're scouting my horse. It's just wet. Lord and money. It's a womb. Yes, it's a womb in your big hoodlums. I'll give you a lot of satisfaction to throw rocks at a horse and get a soaking wet. And my horse is scared off. It's a bird woman. It's one of them prontian news. Got a sharp tongue in her skull. When you finish sizing me up, maybe you'll chase my horse. She's ordering us around. No call of his fashion, ma'am. It was a mistake. We were feeling in an antique way, but we weren't aiming to hurt nobody. Oh, you idiots. Please don't stand there. Help me. Lord Almighty. That little one she's got ain't no fern, huh? Why, he's a hillboy. What's his name, ma'am? Why, his name is Augie. Who's his kid? He's an Owens, Augie Owens. Come on, tack it. A tack it, huh? I know there was a reason I scared that nag. I reckon we got to keep Ari a tack it here. Bounce right with us. Don't you catch me. Oh, don't bother him, please. I'm riding on an emergency case, and he's guiding me. Come on, Rick. Don't argue fire with a fern, huh? We got to get over to Carriville by a sunup. Bide you follow us and bring that tack it young and with you. All right. Don't bring the fern or leave her be. Yeah, leave her be. Oh, I could find a place without Augie. Oh, I'm crumb, shame-faced, ma'am. Tears like I gotta take this, boy. You have to whip me first. Oh, please. Bide, is that your name? Say, are you a little boy's neighbor? Yes, I'm. He was at our cab when my granny was ailing. It ain't pleasure to mean none, ma'am. Take this boy, but I gotta. Oh, but your friends don't really care. See, they've gone up down the path. Why doesn't even you're a feud? You're a neighbor. Yes, I'm. But I'm out tonight with carters, and they're a tetris folk. They're far down the road. And look back at me. My horse is coming back. You scared the Mississippi doing its best. If you all could now, uh, get on that nag and run for it. Yes, we can. Here, sir. Here, boy. Come on. I can mount in a second. See? Okay. Catch my hand. I'll swing you up. There! Ma'am, the whole countryside is favorable to you nurses. Once past the creek, you're safe. Rick Carter ain't let water touch him in 20 years. Get up, sir. Get up. No waiting is more hopeless and fearful. And that of the men and women of rural districts can only pray that the doctor or the nurse will arrive in time to help. On a dark mountain side, as dawn is about to break, Tom and Hannah Tackett stand in front of their small cabin. Here, Horrocks is. What's that, woman? It's an egg coming up the mountain hill for leather. If it ain't the nurse, my heart will be palm heavy. Oh, Billy! Am I in time, Mr. Sir? Well, there's no telling. He's breathing yet. We'd about give you up. Oh, I'm sorry. I got a scare on the road and was delayed. Sorry, ladies. The road is all fogged up. Yes, I see. What have you done? I'm going to give him a grasp of vinegar, a clover of the fling, but it didn't help him marry Mark. Let me see your throat. Oh, look at my dipteria. Have your man put on your kettle. Hand me my kitchen. Oh, hear it, air. Stand here beside me. Hand me the things that I need them. Through the night and for several days afterward, forgetting the passage of time, Mary works on the thick boy. Finally, our first appearance is rewarded. Well, it's better out of danger. What day is it? Well, most likely it's Thursday. Look at our Billy there. He's asleep in his sound as a kitten against the hot jam rocks. You'll remember what you had to do for him, won't you, Mr. Tackett? Yes, him, but it shouldn't all leave. You tuck it out. Well, it ain't even sun up yet. I'll take a pan of cold water for my face. Mr. Tackett, will you ask all of you to saddle my horse? Yes, ma'am. I'll do it. You're cruel to ride off before we can thank you proper. But it's only fair to say we've got no money. Well, when you can pay us something to help out someone else do. Oh, did you say it was Thursday? If in the heaven ride, I think I have. Good heaven. I was to send a telegram. Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I wouldn't have gone anyway. I knew that now. You were going somewhere? No, I'm not going somewhere. But I don't care. This is my work. I think I do it mostly for little ones like Billy. Nurse, hey, are you leaving now? Well, I'll be back in two days. I expect you to be well for me by then. You promise? Yes, ma'am. Goodbye, honey. Goodbye. Goodbye, Mr. Tackett. Good day to you, ma'am. Good. I'll take you to your horse, ma'am. I mean, he's kind of restless. There goes a good woman, Billy. And you're not to forget her, do you hear? Yes, ma'am. Well, she tended you like you was her own kin, and she didn't even want no thanks. Without public applause, but universally respected, go the thousands of women whose daily lives are dedicated to the public good. Records of their disinterested devotion to duty are being added each day to the nation's history. Women have entered every field of human endeavor, but especially in those professions demanding the highest charitable and humane feeling, they have proved themselves leaders in the cavalcade of America. Public service is rendered by many people of various professions, and although nurses and social workers are the heroines of tonight's stories, we honor all men and women who serve the public. Among them are the scientists, such as the American chemists who are discovering secrets of nature in order to make many useful materials that we otherwise should have to get from other countries. Just for example, America needs inexpensive camphor. It is an important ingredient in many articles you use every day, in peroxial and plastics used in making combs and toilet articles, knitting needles, toothbrush handles, fountain pens, and hundreds of other articles. It's also essential to photographic films, and the safety glass used in many automobiles really is a sandwich of glass and transparent, parallel in plastic, which also contains camphor. Way back in 1421, 70 years before Columbus discovered America, some Chinese visiting the island of Formosa were agreeably surprised to find forests of stately trees with a balmy odor that could be smelled for miles. These were camphor trees, and the Formosan natives made a pleasant smelling product out of them. The Chinese took some of this camphor home with them, and traders carried it throughout the Orient where it was already known and prized highly for medicinal purposes and for use in making amulets that would ward off evil. Chemists discovered the structure of camphor as long ago as 1893, and many attempts have been made to produce it chemically. However, all efforts to make a high-grade product at a reasonable cost failed until just a few years ago. DuPont chemists succeeded in perfecting a process which uses as raw material, turpentine extracted from southern pine trees. This development is important to every American, for DuPont now produces camphor at a price which makes it unnecessary to go abroad to buy it. This is an achievement that well exemplifies the DuPont praise, better things for better living through chemistry. Next week at this same time, DuPont will again present the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. WABC, New York.