 The Cavalcade of America, presented by Dupont. This evening the Dupont Cavalcade tells the story of an American girl who astonished the world with her discoveries through a telescope. Mariah Mitchell, first American woman to win world-renowned as an astronomer. If our listeners could find telescopes powerful enough, probably a lot of them would aim at the site of New York's World Fair to see what's going on in preparation for the 1939 World of Tomorrow exposition. This Saturday will be a red letter day in New York City because they're having a preview of the fair in the shape of a great parade with miles and miles of floats showing in miniature form how most of the fair buildings will look a year from now. 600 motor vehicles and 200,000 marchers will parade through New York Street and wind up at the fair ground. Among the floats will be one representing the building Dupont will have at the fair. Inside of this building the wonder world of chemistry literally will unfold before your eyes. With the help of animated working models and demonstrations, trained lecturers will explain how Dupont scientists transform raw materials from mine, forest and field into better things for better living through chemistry. As an overture, Don Voorhees and the Dupont Cavalcade Orchestra play a special setting of the melodic Stardust. The Dupont Cavalcade moves forward. A great woman scientist was born August 1st, 1800 and 18 of Quaker Stark on the historic island of Nantucket off the coast of Massachusetts. Her father was an accomplished amateur astronomer and at an early age Mariah displayed unusual interest in the constellations. By the time she was 17 her mathematical knowledge had progressed far beyond that of her teachers and when she was 21 the Nantucket selectmen recognized her exceptional ability by placing her in charge of their library, the Atheneum. One day shortly after she had received the appointment two of her friends tiptoe into the quiet library looking for her. Do you see her Abigail? She's at that desk in the corner. Then her book is usual. Poor Mariah. I should have soon spent my days in a church yard. She's in a quiet library like this. I suppose she'll be upset because we interrupt her. But we'd better give her this message at once. Abigail, do you think she could possibly be reading one of those wicked novels from England? We'll pick over her shoulders. The book is nothing but figures. That's Maddie. Martha and Abigail, I didn't hear you come in. You were too busily absurd. Whatever you're reading, Mariah. Oh, Captain Bowdage's book The Navigator. Mariah, do you enjoy books like that? Of course I do. It's a brilliant work, Abigail. But books like that are meant for men. You'll get brain fever setting. It's not as deep as all that, Martha. Did you come for a book? We came to tell you how distressed Jonathan Andrews is that you refuse to go with him to Captain Macy's social tonight. You're breaking his heart, Mariah. Oh, nonsense. I told him I'd be glad to attend if it's done. But as you see, it promises to be a fair clear night. Oh, what is the weather to do with it? A lovely moonlight night and a handsome young man would be my ideal. But on clear nights, Abigail, I must remain on the roof of the telescope. Every day here at the library, I'm learning how to make more accurate observations. And at night, I study the movements of the planets in the sky. It's the only way to test my knowledge. Well, Jonathan wonders if we shouldn't succeed. Jonathan Andrews is the finest young man in Mantucket, Mariah. If you really prefer to remain on the roof gating his stars, then I warn you, a fever has touched your brain. Come, Abigail, we'd best leave this gloomy library before we, too, are affected. Despite the scorn of her less serious-minded friends, Mariah Mitchell continued to study mathematics in the Nantucket library and continued to spend every clear night at the telescope on the roof. And the young men of Nantucket learned that Mariah Mitchell's first love would always be astronomy. In her few leisure moments, however, she enjoyed social gatherings that greatly is her brothers and sisters. And now, on the evening of October 1st, 1847, a pleasant party is in progress at the Mitchell Home. The young people are grouped around the piano singing, while Mariah's mother and father are seated on the sofa. William, has he seen Mariah? She's not with the others at the piano. These should know as well as I where she can be found. At the telescope even tonight? I'm worried about Mariah, William. When she was a child, I thought her interest in astronomy was a passing fancy. But the years have passed, and she's interested in not else. I'm proud of our daughter, Lydia. I believe her knowledge of astronomy is as great as that of Professor Bond at Harvard College. Why, William, Professor Bond is a distinguished scholar. He's a man with a man's brain. They will repent such a vain boast about our daughter. Father? You need your voice in this song, Mariah. Will you please excuse me a few minutes longer? I must speak to my father at once. Is there something strange in the sky at the night, Mariah? Only an observation. I wish my father to check. All right, I'll come, Mariah. Whenever I look through Mr. Mitchell's telescope, I see only cloudy specks. Come, Mariah. Can't you postpone your stargazing? Won't you all sing again? Please don't wait for me. All right. Father, we'll be pleased to come up to the roof at once. There are clouds in the sky. A storm is blowing up. Come, child, but what's remarkable about a storm over Nantucket? It's not a minute to lose. Please, come quickly. I can't mount the stairs as fast as do you know. Oh, there, thunder. They must see it before the storm breaks. See what, Mariah? The new comet. You observed a new comet? Yes, I saw it last night, but I didn't wish to mention it. I thought it might have been a nebula. But tonight it's changed its position? Yes. Oh, hurry, Father. I see the clouds are gathering. I'll lift this door for you. Like we're in for a sour stir. Look into the telescope. Look closely. Is he certain of its position? Yes, it's nearly vertical above Polaris, about five degrees. Does he see it? Oh, I fear the storm is going to break. Any vertical above Polaris, about five degrees? Uh-huh. Yes, yes, I see it, Mariah. He has discovered a new comet. He must announce this to the world at once. Oh, but, Father, oh, I should be so humiliated if I should be wrong. Astronomy is an exact science, child. He knows from my mathematical computation that this is a new comet, does he not? Yes, but I do know without a doubt, but surely I'm not the first to observe it. Ah, whether or not he is the first is of small importance. And now I believe the time is come for thee to take thy rightful place among the scientists of the world, Mariah. I write to the Harvard Observatory tonight. That night, Mr. Mitchell wrote to his friend William Bond, Professor of Astronomy at Harvard College, and Mariah promptly forgot the new comet. Then, three months later, the distinguished president of Harvard College, Dr. Edward Everett, journeyed to Nantucket to call on Mariah and her father. This journal reached Harvard two days ago, Miss Mitchell. It states that Italy's most distinguished astronomer, Father Vicio of Rome, saw your comet two nights after you did. My comet? Then I was the first to observe it? I was sure of it, Dr. Everett. It is indeed your comet, Miss Mitchell. The first comet to have been discovered by telescope in many years, the first indeed since 1831, when the King of Denmark offered his prize. Yet unfortunately, the Danish gold medal will go to Father Vicio of Rome. Oh, but he's a famous scientist. I'm only a young woman far better than you received the medal. But it's unjust, Dr. Everett. I'd forgotten the Danish medal. I should have written to the Danish consulate once. That was not your principal mistake, Mr. Mitchell. The regulations state that the discoverer of a telescopic comet must send the letter by the very next mail to be eligible for the award. What a pity you did not comply with the rules. By the next mail, Dr. Everett? Miss Mitchell observed the comet on October 1st, but your letter did not leave Nantucket till October 3rd. That delay of one day cost your daughter the honor of being acclaimed throughout the scientific world. Oh, but Father, I'm satisfied to have been the first astronomer in the world to have seen the comet. Fame and gold medals are of little importance. Dr. Everett, that letter did leave Nantucket by the next mail. I don't understand. A full day passed. Well, even you off islanders know our Nantucket storms, doctor. A storm came up. The very night Mariah observed the comet. It continued all the next day and the first mail to leave the island was the morning of October 3rd. Yes, that's true. Don't remember, Father, the storm was just breaking when I asked me to come to the roof to observe the comet. You're right, Mariah, and there's no time to be lost. I must write it once to our American consul at Denmark. The medal has not yet been awarded. Technically, you have complied with the regulations. You deserve that medal, Miss Mitchell, and for your sake and for the honor of America, I intend to do everything within my power to see that you receive it. It was not until 1849 that the announcement was made that Mariah Mitchell had been awarded the gold medal of the Danish King, and it marked the first turning point in her life. She was hailed throughout the world as one of its leading scientists and astronomers. Other honors followed. She was made the first woman member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and in 1857 she spent a year in Europe at the invitation of leading scientists. In 1861, following the death of her mother, she left Nantucket and moved with her father to Lynn, Massachusetts. Here she set up a small observatory and planned to spend the rest of her life in quiet study. But one day in 1865, when she was 47 years old, a visitor came to the house, Matthew Vassar, and his visit was to mark a second turning point in her life. I hope you'll forgive this inclusion, Miss Mitchell. It is a pleasure, Mr. Vassar. I've been so interested in reading about your college for young ladies. I wish you all success in your undertaking. Miss Mitchell, I have come to you today to tell you that the success of Vassar College depends in great measure upon you. Upon you? You can't be serious, Mr. Vassar. I have come to ask you not to plead with you to become the first professor of astronomy at Vassar College. Why, I... I've never taught anyone in my life. Oh, I should never be a suitable professor for any college. You are better known and more deeply respected than any woman scholar in America. Oh. I shall be very frank, Miss Mitchell. If I can announce to the world that a scientist of your occupation is one of our first professors, it will inspire confidence in the college. It will assure us of the public support we must have. But... why, it's out of the question. I'm not a young woman, Mr. Vassar. The best years of my life are past. I have planned to spend the rest of my life with my telescope and with my book. Miss Mitchell, one of the most prominent men in the country has waged me that a scientist of your reputation would never demean herself by teaching in a college for girls. Who? I believe teaching is the worthiest profession in the world. My fear is that I am not capable of it. And another gentleman has promised to contribute a large sum of money to the college the day he hears that Miss Mariah Mitchell has consented to become a professor. Well, I don't know what to say, Mr. Vassar. I've never dreamed of such a thing. I know that I'm asking you to make a great personal sacrifice for your independent study. But I'm not being selfish. I'm asking you to do this in the name of the thousands of American women who are eager for knowledge. I'm afraid you overestimate my abilities, Mr. Vassar. You have set a brilliant example of what an ambitious woman can accomplish. Will you not follow a new path now and help open the door to a college education to all women who desire it? Mr. Vassar, do you realize that you're asking a woman of 47 to pioneer a long and new and difficult path? True, if I succeeded, it would bring me greater satisfaction in any work I've ever done. But it's a fearful responsibility molding the minds of young people. I must have time to think. May I give you my answer within a week? Thank you, Miss Mitchell. I beg you, consider carefully for your decision may well mark a turning point in the history of higher education for American women. The next morning after breakfast, Mariah and her father are in the sitting room discussing Matthew Vassar's invitation. As he knows, Father, I'm heartily in sympathy with Mr. Vassar's ideals. I'm weary of the common belief that women's brains are not capable of book learning. But I am not a teacher. I wonder if he is not evading the principle issue, Mariah. The sacrifice of my personal ambitions is far more serious to me than my inexperience as a teacher, do not? Well, equally serious, I will confess. My life is so well established. A greater part of my time is my own for study and observation. And teaching is a full-time occupation. It could mean a sacrifice, Mariah. It could mean that he may never make any further scientific discoveries. But Mr. Vassar has offered me a great opportunity to develop hundreds of receptive minds. But I do fear I should fail as a teacher. Well, you shall have to lock yourself in a tower soon, if guests arrive even at the breakfast time. They rarely come so early. I'll open the door. My dear Miss Mitchell, you are Miss Mariah Mitchell, are you not? Yes, I'm Miss Mitchell. Won't you come in? Thank you. This is my father. How do you do? I come all the way from New York to see you. I know you're very busy. I won't even tell you my name. I'm fairly well known. I'm embarrassed about asking this. Is the question about astronomy? Certainly. Miss Mitchell, this is my problem. I'm a widow. My poor dear husband died two years ago. And now there are two men who insist they are in love with me. I admire them both, but simply don't know which to marry. That's why I've come to ask you. My dear ladies, how could I possibly advise you about your personal life? You tell fortunes, don't you? I tell... of course not. But aren't you the Miss Mitchell astronomer? Oh, now I understand. You thought I read fortunes by the stars. Oh, I've been told everything about the stars. But what can you tell if you can't tell fortunes? I can tell when the moon and sun will rise. I can tell you the physical characteristics of the planets and their relationships to each other. I've never heard of such a thing all the way from New York when the moon and sun will rise. Well, good day, Miss Mitchell. I'm sorry I disturbed you. There's been some mistake I've been imposed on. Father, did you hear that? Yes, I heard it. I know what I should have to think of the future of America if every woman is as ignorant as this widow from New York. I may lack experience as a teacher, but I believe I can teach the young ladies of Vassar the difference between the science of astronomy and gypsy fortune telling. Well, don't be too critical, Mariah. Remember, there were no colleges for girls when she was young. And remember too that Mr. Vassar's college is only in experiment, which may fail. Oh, but it mustn't fail. American women must have education. Father, I have spent more than 20 years in selfish study. What good is my knowledge if it can't be shared with others? Mr. Vassar has offered me a golden opportunity. I shall write to him today. At the age of 47, Mariah Mitchell embarked on a new career. Her fears that she would fail as a teacher were groundless. For 22 years, until she reached the age of 69, she remained the most beloved professor at Vassar College. And she devoted every minute of those years to her students, with never a thought of enhancing her personal reputation as a scientist. Now in 1888, at 70, in ill health, she is living alone in retirement at her home in Lynn, Massachusetts. Two visitors have just been admitted to the sitting room. Miss Mitchell, do you remember me? I'm Mary Armstrong, the class of 1869. I'm now Mrs. Warren. Mary Armstrong, my first astronomy class. Of course I remember you. You were the pretty girl who told me you'd elected astronomy because you loved to gaze at the stars. Well, I was sadly disillusioned. We all thought that astronomy would be a popular course until we discovered that we were expected to study mathematics. And yet, how you all worked at mathematics. I was so proud of you. Miss Mitchell, this is my daughter Anne. She's entering Vassar this year. Your daughter? To think I've lived to see a second generation in the Vassar. How do you do, young lady? I'm so happy to meet you, Miss Mitchell. Mother told me Vassar would never be the same without you. And my father says that I'll never be the woman my mother is without you for a teacher. I don't think I have a met your husband, Mary. No, Miss Mitchell, but like every husband of every Vassar graduate, he's heard nothing but Miss Mitchell since we were married. I'm afraid one never grows too old to enjoy flattery. Take care, Mary. You turn my head. Any girl who ever studied under you, Miss Mitchell, knows better than to pay idle compliments. Anne wanted so to meet you. And I've always wanted to tell you how grateful we are for your help in meeting the college at the expense of your personal fame as a scientist. What matter if my name doesn't fit? What matters if I didn't go on with my own work? I'm content. Some of my pupils may someday do far greater work than I was capable of. And I know some of the others will continue to seek the truth in every phase of life as I urge you to do in that first astronomy class so many years ago. Father says that mother was as rattle-brained as most women till she said it under you, Miss Mitchell. He says she doesn't remember much about astronomy, but you did teach her how to think clearly. Well, one of my pupils has forgotten her astronomy, but she's learned how to think. That's the finest compliment I've ever received. The greater reward than any teacher should dare expect. Thank you, my child. Thank you. Maya Mitchell's death came in 1889. In 1902, her birthplace on Vestal Street in Nantucket was purchased as a museum and observatory for the Nantucket Mariah Mitchell Association. And in 1905 she was elected to the Hall of Fame for her untiring efforts toward the advancement of scientific knowledge and for her pioneering help in securing a higher education for American women. DuPont salutes Mariah Mitchell as a brave leader in the cavalcade of America. A few nights ago some distinguished motorists on a Michigan highway, including the Lieutenant Governor, the Highway Commissioner, the Chief of the United States Bureau of Public Roads and many other prominent officials saw the first public use of an idea that promises to do much to increase safety on the road. As you drive along this Michigan highway at night, each side is outlined with a string of small, brightly glowing lights that mark the way without glare as far as you can see. These gleaming guideposts light up ahead of you as if some kind Samaritan was flicking a switch to pilot you safely through the dark. They indicate when you're coming to a curve or to the top of a hill or a dark spot, you know something is ahead of you. Reflectors, you say. Yes, but how much better than any reflectors you've ever seen before? What in the world are they? The answer is found in chemistry and in the work of a clever inventor. Not so long ago, DuPont Chemists developed a product now trademarked leucite methylmethacrylate resin, a crystal clear plastic with highly unusual properties. One feature of leucite plastic is its remarkable ability to transmit or reflect light. Inventive brains recently devised a way to fashion this new plastic into discs a little larger than a silver dollar, having rear surfaces molded into a lot of tiny prisms like the sharp corners of cubes. When you recall seeing the flash of light from the facets of a diamond, you'll understand how these reflectors get their power. These amazing little discs will reflect the light of automobile headlamps at least a full mile. That's the longest straight-away piece of road on the General Motors proving grounds where they were tested for many months. At first, only a few miles of road were so equipped, but they so greatly reduced the eyestrain of night driving that the hard-boiled test drivers who pilot the new cars on try-out grind asked to have the new reflectors along the whole 23 miles. Michigan State Highway officials were so impressed with these tests, they placed posts carrying the reflectors along both sides of the road on an 85-mile stretch between Detroit and Lansing. Safety authorities believe that the opening of this highway marks a great step forward in the crusade to cut down motor accidents. DuPont Chemists worked more than five years to develop lusite resin, thus adding one more to a group of DuPont plastics for every purpose, such as the spirit of research and such as its realization as expressed in the DuPont Pledge better things for a better living through chemistry. Songs of the Mississippi, the story of Old Man River as told through its music will 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.