 The Cavalcade of America, starring Rex Harrison in Experiment at Monticello. Resented by the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Experiment at Monticello, starring Rex Harrison as Thomas Jefferson on the DuPont Cavalcade of America. The White House, 18-1. In his study in the executive mansion, Thomas Jefferson newly elected third president of the United States, and his daughter, Patsy, are reading letters that have just arrived by the post. And suddenly, Patsy says... Oh! Oh, my goodness! What is it, my dear? This letter from Philadelphia, Father. There's an outbreak of a smallpox. Jenny Somerset. Jenny Somerset? Oh, what a pity. A sweet child. And a sister Harriet, too. Oh, Father, do you suppose... Well, they... is it always fatal? Very often, my dear. Smallpox takes a greater toll of our countrymen than any other disease. You mean... there's nothing that'll cure it, nothing at all? Curious you're asking that just now, Patsy? This letter I was reading, it's from a Boston physician named Benjamin Waterhouse. Listen, my dear. Dear Mr. President, I conceive that a work that has for its end the good of the community would not be unacceptable to you. I am, therefore, enclosing my pamphlet entitled A Prospect of Exterminating Smallpox by Means of Vaccination. Hmm, I've heard of this Dr. Waterhouse. He's not precisely a popular figure up there in Boston. Well, if he's poorly thought of, there must be a reason for it. He's probably a charlatan, Father. Not necessarily, my dear. It happens that this good doctor's enemies are man for man. They're very gentlemen who've been most bitter in their denunciation of me. Oh? They're against progress of all kinds, especially in matters of science. No, Patsy, this man's enemies are his recommendation. I shall inquire of Dr. Waterhouse for some of this vaccination matter he says he possesses. And what will you do with it, Father? Well, my dear, tomorrow, as you know, we leave for Monticello. And I shall have it sent there. Monticello? But what will you do with it? I have an idea. I'm not quite sure. I should like a little time to think it over. It's a few days later at Jefferson's home, Monticello. The President has not yet arrived from Washington. And all about the house and grounds, there's an air of expectancy. His tenants and workmen and servants await Jefferson's first visit home as President of the United States. At the far end of the vast lawn under a gnarled oak tree, a boy and girl are sitting, staring pensively at the fleecy sky. The girl is Sally Corker and daughter of Jefferson's overseer. The boy? Well, his name is Bruce, John Bruce. John, how do you address the President of the United States? Mr. President, of course. I wonder if he's changed any. John. Yes, Sally? Would you be wishing to meet him, Mr. Jefferson, after he's rested from his trip, of course? Of course I'd wish to meet him. Who wouldn't wish to meet the President of the United States? The question is, would he wish to meet me, a nobody? And the answer is, no, he wouldn't. You're not a nobody, John. You're brilliant. A brilliant medical student and somebody you're going to be a fine doctor. Oh, that's what you think because... Well, because you're fond of me. Is that why? But that's not enough to make Mr. Jefferson wish to waste any of his valuable time on me. In fact... In fact, if you can arrange to just happen to be strolling about the paddock at about 2 o'clock tomorrow afternoon, who do you think you'll see? Whom do you think you'll see? That's what I meant, who? Thomas Jefferson? How did you guess? Oh, it's a miracle, John, the way you're always reading a person's mind. And I'll stroll by and lift my hat and say good afternoon, Your Excellency. And he'll say good afternoon, boy, and mistake me for one of the stable hands. Oh, Sally, why on earth should he take the trouble to talk to me? Because he talks to everybody. And particularly because you're a medical student. He's very interested in medicine. So I've heard. He's also interested in architecture, astronomy, mathematics, music and philosophy. He's the man who wrote the Declaration of Independence and the President of the United States. And he's going to drop everything and have a little chat with me. Yes. Why? Because I'll arrange it. How? Well, here, Mr. Jefferson always makes an inspection of Monticello when he comes back from a long trip. That's how I know he'll be at the stables. And Father always goes along with him because Father's the overseer. And tomorrow, Father will take me. And you'll just happen to meet us there and I'll present you. And Mr. Jefferson always suggests tea in the drawing room after the inspection. And when he does, I'll invite you. You wouldn't dare. Why wouldn't I, though? Tea with Mr. Jefferson? Why, I wouldn't know what to say. I'd stutter and, of course, if he talked about medicine, I do know something about that. Then you'll be there at the Paddock at two o'clock. Holy Jerusalem, I'm scared. Well, tell me, man, dear, because I've got to leave here. I'll be there, all right. Goodbye. Sally, do you have to go? Yes, dear. Don't forget the Paddock at two sharp. I suppose he doesn't want to go there. Oh, I'll... Well, I guess your Excellency is finding these tables none too imposing. After down the aisle and yourself in that big castle up there in Washington. On the contrary, Mr. Cochran, a man's home is his castle, and Monticello will always be that to me. Yes, sir. You say you've laid out some new turkey runs. I'd like to see them. Right this way, Mr. President. A father. There are just a few steps past... A father? Yes, Sally. What time is it? Well, let's see now. It lacks but one minute of two o'clock. Now, if your Excellency will kindly come... But, Father, his Excellency hasn't seen the Paddock yet. His Excellency has seen it a hundred times. There's nothing new there. It's the turkey runs... Well, couldn't we just look at the Paddock? No. What time is it, please? It's now about one minute past. Why, are you so interested in the time all of a sudden? One minute past. I don't think I feel very well. No, Sally. I feel faint. No, Sally. You do, do you? I could rest a moment in the Paddock. Sally, if you want to rest in the Paddock, go there and rest. Now, if your Excellency will be good enough to come... No, no, Mr. Cochran. Somehow I too have an overwhelming desire to visit the Paddock. I never before realized the irresistible fascination of that place. After you, my dear Sally. Well, here's the Paddock, Sally. And it looks no different than it ever did. No exception, sir. That rather tense-looking young man pacing up and down near the rail. He seems quite perturbed about something. Would you, by any chance, know who he is, Sally? Oh, who, Mr. President? Which young man? Which one? How many do you see? Oh, that one. Oh, yes, yes. I see which one you mean. Well, do you know him or don't you know him? I don't, my Mr. Cochran. The young man is approaching. I believe we'll soon find a clue to this mystery. Why, Sally? I mean, Miss Cochran, I never dreamed of finding you here. Mr. Drews, what a surprise. Yes, isn't it? Isn't it, though? Mr. President, may I present the young gentleman of my acquaintance, Mr. John Drews. I'm very happy to meet you, young man. It's a great privilege, sir. Excuse me, John, and this is my father. Oh, pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. How do you do? Now, if you'll excuse us, sir. Oh, one moment, Mr. Cochran. I have somehow lost interest in turkey runs for this afternoon. I believe I should like a cup of tea. Would you like that, Sally? Oh, yes, Mr. President. Yes, I thought you would. We're all vapors, of course. Mr. Drews, would you care to join us? Another cup of tea, Sally? No, Mr. President, thank you. Mr. Drews? No, thank you, Mr. President. Well, you may proceed, Mr. Cochran. Well, Mr. President, as I was saying, I've installed the new brick ovens, as you suggested in your office. Yes, excellent. I'll need them for the new extension I'm planning. An entire wing, Mr. Cochran. You've worked well enough, I trust. Oh, sir, we haven't. You see, sir, well, it's a small park, sir. It's took away four of our best men and only last week. Oh, the parks. There's no telling when a man will be took down with it. You see them alive and healthy one minute and a corpse the next. Oh, it's a terrible thing, sir. Terrible. Mr. Cochran, can you describe the symptoms of these men once they've been afflicted? Well, they seem to break out in sores and there's a good deal of regurgitating and pains in the back and a kind of business. I see. Mr. Drews. Yes, sir? As a physician. Oh, not yet, Mr. President. I'm still studying. Oh, but he will be soon, Mr. President. His professors say he's brilliant. Don't they, John? I mean, Mr. Drews. No, of course not. Your Excellency mustn't mind what Sally... I mean, Miss Cochran says. She's just... But I do mind, sir. I think Sally, I mean, Miss Cochran, is a... Seatingly handsome and an intelligent young woman. Oh, thank you, Mr. President. He is brilliant. Mr. Drews, these symptoms you've just heard described, would they warrant a positive diagnosis of smallpox? Yes, sir. They would. Beyond any doubt whatsoever? Beyond any doubt, sir. And, uh, and the cure? There is none, sir. There is no known cure for the smallpox, Mr. President, and no preventive. Really? It seems to me I've heard of something referred to as, uh, vaccination. Oh, that. All my professors up at Boston have spent a great deal of time to explode that theory, Mr. President. Oh, they. And I take it they've exploded it to their own satisfaction. Oh, yes, sir. Nobody believes in that anymore, with the exception of a notorious quack of the name of, uh... Walter House. Yes, sir. That's his name. How did you know that? Mr. Jefferson knows all about a great many things, John. And if I were you, boy, I wouldn't presume to be an authority on anything when talking to the President of the United States. Well, I don't claim to be an authority, Mr. Cochran. It just so happens, however, that the one thing I do know something about is medicine. Why, it's my life's work. Then you'd better be starting me all over again in some other line. You ain't doing so good at it. But look here, sir, I think... Don't you look here to me, you young whipper-staffer. Father John, please. The President. Uh, Mr. Juice, have you heard of a particular matter extracted from the pustules of one afflicted with cowpox, a benign disease, to ward off the ravages of smallpox, a fatal one? Oh, yes, Mr. President, I've heard of it. That's the technique used by that quack, Walter House. I do not believe Dr. Walter House a quack, sir. Why do you? Because my professors have told me here, sir. I see. And are these professors infallible men? Have they never made mistakes? Oh, they're medical men, sir. And begging your excellencies, pardon. I would take their word in a medical matter over that of any layman, even though he be the President of the United States. How dare you, sir? How dare you speak to the... It's all right, Mr. Cochran. Uh, young man, you place me in a somewhat surprising position. Here, before, it's been my assumption that blind adherence to tradition was the prerogative of venerable greybeards like myself. While most progress was forced upon us and beneath by the young. You surprise me, sir. May I ask why you're so bitter against this innovation that may possibly save the lives of thousands? The answer, Mr. President, is that it has killed as many as it has saved. Your statistics are debatable. I suppose they were acquired by your professors in Boston. Yes, sir. Mr. Cochran... Mr. Drews, I must admit, sir, to a certain disappointment in you, although I cannot help but admire your courage. If all mankind were to follow your philosophy of closing the mind to progress, we should still be in the Dark Ages. Look at Galileo and Columbus and even our own Eli Whitney. These gentlemen gave no heed to tyrannic professors. Mr. Drews, intellectual tyranny is worse even than political tyranny. An eye, sir, have swore upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of men. Mr. Cochran, at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning you will have assembled on the east portico at Monticello all my tenants, workers, householders, servants and slaves. And I shall proceed to vaccinate one and all with this serum that Dr. Waterhouse was kind enough to send me. Good day, Sally and gentlemen. You are listening to The Cavalcade of America starring Rex Harrison as Thomas Jefferson in experiment at Monticello, presented by the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. It's the following morning on the east portico of the main house at Monticello. Gathered about the president are his family, his tenants, workmen and slaves, almost a hundred all told. Mr. Jefferson is just concluding his statement in favor of vaccination against smallpox. It is therefore my suggestion, and I do not put this in the form of a command, that you all submit to this newest invention in man's eternal struggle against disease. Before indicating your attitudes in this matter, however, I pray you give heed to this young man here, Mr. Drews, who is a student of medicine, has an opinion quite contrary to mine concerning the merits of vaccination. Permit me to present to you Mr. Drews. I don't know what to say, sir. I feel all mixed up. Tell him what you believe, my boy. The truth to your opinion. Go on, they're waiting. Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know what to say. Needless to remark, I am one of Mr. Jefferson's greatest admirers. I believe it only fair, however, to inform you that this course he intends to pursue, this vaccination, is frowned upon and discouraged by the best medical minds up north. It has resulted in many deaths, just how many as a matter of dispute. And whether these deaths were due to improper vaccination or not, nobody knows. For myself, I would not presume to advise you. I am merely rendering a statement of the fact Thank you for listening to me. Well, I've spoken, Mr. Drews, I've spoken. And now, my friends, the matter is in your hands. We will proceed in an orderly, democratic fashion. When I put the question, will all those who wish to be vaccinated be so good as to respond by saying, I, those otherwise minded, will say, Nay, is that understood? Very well then. The resolution before the house is to be or not to be vaccinated. Let those for the affirmative respond. Against? The resolution is carried. Ladies and gentlemen, I salute you. Kindly appear at this place tomorrow morning at eight o'clock prepared for your vaccinations. It's four o'clock the following afternoon at Monticello. Since eight this morning, men, women and children have been crooping in and out of the East Portico in the first mass vaccination in American history. Thomas Jefferson, alone and unaided, has administered the serum. Standing beside him is his daughter, Patsy, who enters the names in a small notebook. That last one, though, the small girl. Did you get her name, Patsy? Yes, Father, Prudence George. And the one before that, the tall Negro. Yes, Father, it was all Joshua. Ah, well, that finishes it then. Friends, that's all I'll require of you now. You may go back to your homes and your occupations. Some of you may be troubled with a mild handkerchief or a slight touch of fever. It's of no importance and will shortly disappear. I thank you for your cooperation and will visit you individually tomorrow to ascertain your condition. Again, I thank you. Ah, I'll sit down now, Patsy. You look very tired, Father. I am. You know, my dear, I'm getting unwelcome proof every day that I'm not as young as I used to be. I really don't think I could have managed one more inoculation, not today. I'll bring you a cup of tea, Father. That always refreshes you. Thank you, my dear. Good afternoon, Mr. President. Why, Sally, good afternoon. Would you get us a down and smile at a tired old man? It'd be a pleasure, sir. But first, if you don't mind... Yes, Sally? Mr. President, would you be good enough to vaccinate me, please? But, my dear, Sally, I've refrained on purpose from asking you to... I know you have, Mr. President. Not twice this morning and three times this afternoon. I thought perhaps you were angry with me. Why, no idea. I just thought it diplomatic in view of the medical opinions of Mr. Drew. Him? I have no interest in that traitor, sir. Any man who goes against the President of the United States... No, Sally, this is a democracy. Every man has a right to his opinion. Mr. President, would you be depriving a woman of the benefits of science just because her ex-fiance is as stupid and as stubborn as a mule? Is that scientific? It isn't. And in the name of science, I capitulate. That's it. Another patient. Sally, please, don't run away from me. I have nothing to discuss with you. You better, Dick Darnold. But I was only standing up for my honest medical opinion. Even the President wanted me to do that. I have no interest whatsoever in your opinions, medical or otherwise. Oh, Sally, I thought you loved me. I thought so, too. Wasn't it ridiculous of me? Now listen to me, Sally. Don't touch me. My vaccination. You mean you, too? Certainly. I'm proud I am to have been vaccinated in person by the President of the United States. Goodbye to you, Mr. Drews. And all the next day and the next, and well into the following week, President Jefferson made the rounds of his patients, always accompanied by Patsy. Well, Mr. Trimble, and how's your head today? It's much better, sir, but my arm still might have sore. Write that down, Patsy. Mr. Wallace Trimble. Third day, headache disappeared, arm still sore. Mrs. Reynolds, has the fever gone down? Yes, you will see if it's all gone now. But there's kind of a swelling, sir, in the pit of my left arm. Oh, I'll put that down, Patsy. Mrs. Dorothea Reynolds, widow, fever abated, slight swelling of the axillary gland. And how's your youngster, Mrs. Reynolds, any ill effects? Nothing of the kind you worship. It's just like he wasn't vaccinated at all. Oh, well, got that, Patsy. And I shall, Reynolds, age three, fifth day, no ill effects whatsoever. The round of visits continued every day for two weeks. And at the end of that period, all the data was in. Here are the facts. There were no deaths. Now, mark that well, Patsy. No deaths from vaccination. I have it, Father. About one person in five had a slight fever and one in four a headache. You got that? Yes, Father. Only two patients showed soreness about the arms to require common dressings. And mark this, Patsy. After subsequent exposure to the smallpox epidemic raging in this part of Virginia, not one of these people who were vaccinated came down with the disease, a great victory for science, Patsy. It's spring again. A year later, President Jefferson has again returned to Monticello. There he sits on the east portico where the famous mass vaccination took place. Beside him are his daughter Patsy and Sally Corcoran. Out of the shadows a young man appears. He approaches the president. Mr. President? Why, Mr. Groose? How are you, sir? What brings you to Virginia? Well, sir, my college semester is just over. Well, I seized this first opportunity to pay you a visit. And a privilege it is to have you, sir. By the way, you remember my daughter Patsy? Certainly. How do you do, Mrs. Randolph? Welcome to Monticello, Mr. Groose. And, of course, you recall Sally. I mean Miss Corcoran. How do, Miss Corcoran? How do, Mr. Groose? Well, Mr. President, I came down here for one purpose and one purpose. Indeed? I wonder what that could be, sir? To apologize, Mr. President. To apologize to you in person about the matter of vaccination for smallpox. Oh, yes, yes. I do seem to recall something about our being on opposite sides of the road and that little affair. Oh, sir, you were absolutely right in your premise from beginning to end. Up in Boston, we too have followed the methods laid down by Dr. Waterhouse and applied by you. Of the hundreds we vaccinated with a cowpox serum, not one has ever been afflicted with smallpox, even when he visited some area where an epidemic was raging. Well, sir, my professors offer their congratulations. Well, thank you, Mr. Groose, and kindly convey my esteemed regards to those gentlemen of learning. I will, sir. Thank you. Well, Mr. President, that's really all I came down here for, to apologize. And I've done it, and very handsomely too, if I may say so. Well, I guess that's all. Goodbye, Mr. President. Goodbye, Mr. Groose. Oh, well, goodbye then. Goodbye. Oh, Mr. Groose. Yes, Mr. President. It just occurs to me that there's a bright moon along the garden path tonight. Perhaps you'd care to go for a stroll before you leave. I mean, Ms. Corcoran, what I... Do I have your permission, Mrs. Randolph? Their name is the juice. Do I have your permission, Sally? Oh, yes, John. I'm thinking I'd like that very much. Thomas Jefferson, 1743 to 1826. Architect, astronomer, mathematician, philosopher and statesman. Amateur musician. Inventor, scientist. And student of everything else his agile mind touched upon. President of the United States. Author of the Declaration of Independence. And courageous exponent of the shining credo that dominated his life. I believe in equal and exact justice to all men. Whatever state or persuasion, religious or political. And I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man. Tonight's Cavalcade Play experiment at Monticello was written by Arthur Arendt and directed by Jack Zoller. Music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Bryan. This is Ted Pearson speaking. Rex Harrison is currently starring in the Broadway stage success Anne of the Thousand Days. Next week at Cavalcade Play, we will bring a suspenseful and exciting radio play secret operation presenting one of Hollywood's most popular stars, John Payne. Cavalcade of America comes to you each week from the stage of the Longacre Theatre on Broadway in New York and is presented by the DuPont Company of Wellington, Delaware. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.