 The Cavalcade of America. This evening's story in the Cavalcade of America presented by Dupont deals with one of the commonest conveniences that our civilization knows, the bridge. As we pass swiftly over bridges in automobiles or trains, we seldom give them a thought. But like many other things we use, the modern bridge was possible only through the development of science and engineering and chemistry played a big part in the improvement of steel, in the explosives necessary to mine the ore, and to blast a secure footing for the deep foundation. And in the very paint that protects the mighty girders from the elements. Thus, every bridge stands as practical evidence of the phrase which guides Dupont chemists. Better things for better living through chemistry. The Dupont Cavalcade Orchestra sets the stage for these episodes on bridge building with father of waters from Fertigrofe's Mississippi Suite, followed by a new arrangement of the classic spiritual Deep River. Looked upon her rivers as her finest highway, they played a mighty role in winning a wild and rugged land, but their very width and depth and swiftness made them barriers as well. They divided cities and states and long defied the ingenuity of man. Today, even the mightiest have been spanned by broad highways of stone and steel and cable. But less than a hundred years ago, the very far of such a feat was confined to the minds of dreamers. Certainly no such thoughts occurred to a ferryman and his assistant as they huddled around a glowing stove in a shack on the banks of the Hudson one stormy winter night of the year 1841. Listen to that wind, Jamie. Yeah, fine night it is to be close by a hot stove. Stow in another piece of driftwood, lad. Aye, sir. I don't recall ever ever seeing the river so full of ice. Well, I've seen it frozen solid, with teams driving across to Jersey. Well, at least folks could get across, but there ain't been a boat cross this week. I hear a tale, two men tried it in a skiff down riverways. Aye, what happened to them? The ice cakes crushed the skiff to kindling. The last that was seen of the men, they was drifting down a sea on the ice. Did they make it to shore? Not so far as anybody knows. The Hudson's in an ugly mood these days. Oh, my God. Listen. Now, who do you suppose to be tearing down the ferry with a coach in a night like this? Sounds like they're in a big hurry. I'll see who it is. Come in. I'd like to see the ferry master. Is he here? I be he. Come in before you have us blown in the river. Thank you. It is a bad night. It is that. What can I do for you, sir? I'm Stephen Adams of Boston. I come all the way by the fastest coach. From Boston? That's a wearing journey and such weather? Yes, but I'm not stopping here. I must be in Philadelphia by high noon tomorrow. Hmm. Now, that's what I'd call unfortunate, Mr. Adams. Why unfortunate? With fresh relays of horses, I can easily make it once I'm across the Hudson. Aye. Once you're across the Hudson, but you'll find no man that'll take you this night, sir. Nonsense. I'll pay you double the usual fee. Not for all the gold in New England, sir. But I must get across. It's a matter of life and death. Perhaps. But mark the grinding of the ice. It'd be but a matter of death to take a boat into those flows. I have no time for quibbling. I'll pay you three times the fare. Not for ten times three. Oh, so you're afraid? You cannot bait me with a name of coward, Mr. Adams. I've lived long enough to mark the difference, twist folly and courage. Oh, if there were only a bridge. That's an idle wish for something that'll never be, sir. Well, nice and no ice. I'll find a ferryman to take their cross tonight. Needless to say, the traveler from Boston did not cross the Hudson that night. But his face was a sign of the quickening pace of American life. Iron bridges could and had been built, but such bridges blocked the traffic of the rivers themselves. Higher and longer bridges had to be built. And in that same year of 1841, the means was found to build them. Strangely enough, the discovery had nothing to do with rivers or bridges. The occasion was a meeting of the officials of the Allegheny Portage Canal at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. A series of accidents at the mountain portage of the Philadelphia Pittsburgh Canal was being investigated. And while waiting to be called before the committee, a young engineer by the name of John A. Robling talks with a friend in an anti-room. It certainly is good to see you, John. But what brings you to Harrisburg? I've been called down here to testify before the canal board. But surely they're not holding you responsible for the trouble they're having at the portage? No, nothing like that. The board is ready to hear your plan, Mr. Robling. Oh, excuse me, Nathan. I'll see you a little later. Good luck, John. Thanks. I'll need it. Right in here, sir. Bye. John A. Robling of the Pennsylvania State Engineering Department. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Good afternoon, sir. I understand you have some plan whereby the recent accidents at the canal portage can be avoided. We have had many suggestions, none of which have been of the slightest value. So I will appreciate it if you will make your remarks brief and to the point. Well, gentlemen, I'm an engineer, not an orator. I haven't come to make a speech. Very well. We'll see. Your problem, gentlemen, is to put an end to the costly tie-up at the Allegheny Portage. That's hardly news to us, young man. Every time a hauling rope breaks, a barge is wrecked, and canal traffic is halted for days. Your plan, young man, your plan. The hauling ropes are not strong enough for such heavy duty work. That is being remedied. We're about to order five-inch Kentucky hemp pausers to replace the three-inch ones now in use. No rope pauser ever made will stand the wear and tear of that haul, gentlemen. That remains to be seen. Meanwhile, you'll lose thousands of dollars in freightage. Perhaps you have a better suggestion. I have, sir, in this carpet bag. Here it is. A wire cable. Wire? It's unheard of. Young man, you're wasting our time. When three-inch hemp breaks like a piece of string, what would happen to this stuff you call wire cable? It's no thicker than my little finger, I'll warrant it wouldn't hold a half-grown calf. Gentlemen, I've tested this wire cable. It has five times the strength and durability of the finest hemp rope ever made, and I'll prove it to you. Engineer John A. Robling won his point. Tess verified the truth of his statement, and he secured orders for the Allegheny Portage Cable. He returned to his hometown of Saxonburg, Pennsylvania, and started the first wire cable factory in America. The new industry prospered, and was later moved to Trenton, New Jersey. Robling was a bridge engineer, and he applied his wire cables to this principle of suspension bridges, which had heretofore been limited to the use of chains. The growing railroads were clamoring for bridges across the nation's greatest rivers. Robling built them, across Monongahela, Niagara Gorge, the Ohio at Cincinnati. Longer and longer he built his giant spans, until at last he was commissioned to build the greatest structure of his long career, the Brooklyn Bridge. It is the spring of 1869. John A. Robling, now a man of 63, is inspecting the site of a new bridge. His son and partner, Washington Augustus Robling, stands with him on a ferry swept from the Brooklyn waterfront, viewing the mammoth project now underway. Well, father, at last we're ready to break ground for the towers. Now the work should have been started a year ago. Can't found these meddling officials with their endless delays. It's worth waiting for. The longest suspension bridge in the world. How soon will they have the houses torn down for the approaches? They'll be out of the way by the time we're ready to sink the cable anchors. Well, they better be. We better get off these piling, father. The ferry from New York is coming into this slip. No nonsense, let it come. They seem to be doing quite a business. The ferry people don't like the idea of the bridge being built then. I shouldn't wonder. The bridge will put them out of business. Yeah, I think the captain is waving us to get off the piling. We'll do nothing of the kind. Get off of there! You want to be knocked in the river? Tend to your business, captain, and we'll tend to ours. Well, the tide is carrying the ferry into the piling. Stay here. Weave sightings for me. Look out! My footage. It's caught between the piling. Quiet here. I'll hold you up. Sight your ferry away, captain. What do you think I'm doing? Not steady, father. Steady. There. There. The piling's as funny. There. Come on. Help me down to the pier. I'm afraid my foot is crushed. Yeah. See not me, dad? Yeah. Easy. Easy. Just help me to steady myself along these piling. Don't try to walk on it, father. I'll hold you up. Now then, only a few steps more. Come on. There now. That's a ladder leading down to the dock. Yeah. Here we are now. Let me give you a hand with the old gen. Old gen, eh? There's our carriage over there. Help me get him to it, will you please? Don't get down, William. Okay. Now hold the horses as we get him in. Yes, sir. We're nearly there now, father. I'm... I'm alright. Careful, sir. Careful now. There you are. Thank you. Now, just lean back on the cushions, father. I'll see what I can do to ease the pain. Drive on, William. Here. Wait. Wash. You're needed here to keep the work going. Nothing like a crushed foot is going to stop the building at this bridge. But, father, you're badly hurt. You, as I say, go back to the job. I'll have this foot fixed and be down myself tomorrow. Very well, sir. If you don't think you'll need me. No, I don't need you. The bridge needs you. Drive to a hospital, William. Yes, sir. Immediately, sir. Get up. Get up. But John A. Robling did not come back to his bridge the following day. Nor the next. His crushed foot was amputated. And only a few days later, his son rushes home in answer to a hurried call. The doctor meets him outside his father's room. What is it, doctor? I came as soon as your message reached me at the bridge. It's urgent. You must prepare yourself for the worst, Mr. Robling. What? Why, only yesterday, he seemed to be recovering. Tetanus infection set in. We've been unable to check it. Does, does he know? Oh, father, it's not a man to be fooled. You'd best go in. It's not much time. Oh, yes. Of course. I see that you're left alone. Thank you. Warsh, my son. Yes, father. I'm here. They, they've told you? Yes, but it can't be true. Oh, it's true, all right. Too bad I haven't one of our cables to, to anchor me to this earth, but, but since I haven't, how's the work on the bridge progressing? Oh, splendidly, father. All the men has to be remembered. Tell them to finish that bridge, and they'll be remembered. You can't give up this fight, father. What will the bridge do without you? I fought and I'm fighting now, my son, but it'll soon be over. Come closer. I want your solemn promise. Yes, father. Anything. You will finish the bridge. You will let nothing stand in your way. I promise, sir. Brooklyn Bridge will be built. Good. Of course. Well, engineers, you and I. Engineers are reputed to be a humorless lot, with their brains crammed with facts and figures. I suppose we are, father. We sometimes overlook the humor of things like this accident of mine. Take that ferry boat that smashed my foot. My bridge will destroy its business, but, but it seems to have had its revenge. John A. Roebling died, but his son was appointed chief engineer, and the work on Brooklyn Bridge went on. To build the great towers of the bridge, deep caissons were sunk to bedrock far below the level of the river. The men worked under terrific pressure, roebling among them. Like hundreds of others, he suffered from the bends, because of which was unknown at that time. His health was wrecked. His doctors warned him that the younger Roebling refused to work men where he himself would not go, and he returns to the caissons once too often. He's in the office, doctor. It seems to be another attack of these cramps. The men get working down on the caissons. I was afraid this would happen. I warned you. Right in here, doctor. Roebling? Hello, doctor. I knew they'd send for you. Can't a man get a cramp without... No, take it easy. Lie down there and don't try to get up. You're a very sick man, only you won't admit it. Oh, nonsense. I'm perfectly... I don't try to tell you how to build bridges. Don't you try to tell me my business. There's no use you're telling me that I've got to quick work. Perhaps not, but I'm going to tell you just the same. We've been friends ever since your father died, Roebling. And as a friend as well as a physician, I'm telling you that you must have rest and quiet, or you'll never live to see this bridge completed. You mean that? Absolutely. You go down in those cases again? I can't answer for what will surely happen. The work's going along great, Mr. Roebling. Why don't you do as the doctor says and take a couple of months off and rest up? I know there isn't a man on the job that'd begrudge your rest, and they'll do their level best while you're gone. I can promise you that. I want you to promise me you'll stay away from the bridge for at least six months. All right. I agree. I'll stay away from the bridge for six months. But don't think for a minute that I'll quit bossing the job. I can see everything that's going on from the porch of my house, and I'll keep my eye on the job even if I have to use a wheelchair and a telescope. Washington Roebling kept his promise. He supervised the completion of Brooklyn Bridge from a wheelchair and lived to see the completion of his work, which stands today as a proud monument to his courage and determination. The Cavalcade of America, brought to you by Dupont, moves to 1931, when the dream of spanning the lower Hudson River became an accomplished fact with the completion of the George Washington Bridge. It was proclaimed a new triumph of engineering skill, but to the millions who have used it, the bridge is viewed in simpler terms. Not long ago, reporters gathered at its busy toll gates on the occasion of the crossing of the millionth car. Ninety-three. Hey, shorty, get set for a picture. I'll make you two cents to a bald-headed mule. The millionth car to pass over the bridge is driven by a woman. I'll give you two to one eyes. It's a man. All right, fellas, get ready with your questions. We can't hold a traffic too long. Ninety-seven. Where's that? Ninety-eight. Nine. Hey, shorty, hello. It's that copay coming up and there's a man at the wheel. Get a shot as he drives up to the table. Just a minute, sir. Yours is the millionth car across the George Washington Bridge. Oh, that effect. That's right. We'd like to get your reaction. Mind giving us your name? Not at all. Henry Selden. Andress? Englewood, New Jersey. Do you use the George Washington Bridge often, Mr. Selden? Every day. I work in New York and drive in. Well, what does it mean to you to have this bridge across that? Oh, plenty. It means I can get home from work while there's still light enough to work in my vegetable garden. The George Washington Bridge still stands supreme. But it is soon to be equipped by a greater span across San Francisco's Golden Gate. In the swift temple of our modern life, the George Washington Bridge is history. The new Golden Gate Bridge is an unfinished chapter in the annals of bridge construction. It is the mecca of engineers the world over. Officially and unofficially, they come to study the methods of American engineers. Let us join a European bridge expert as he inspects one of the great towers. He is shown over the project by one of the engineers in charge and the two men are accompanied by their wives and the young son of the American engineer. As during the noon hour, the bridge workers are waiting the signal to resume the work that has been in progress for over three years. Hey, Thomas, what's the matter with your gang? We put the two girders to your one this morning. I was big as you couldn't count now. I know it. That's telling them, Steve. Wait until the whistle blows. We'll show them how good it is ought to be running. Yeah, that's what you say. Here comes the boss. Ask him which is number one gang. Howdy, boss. Hello. Hello, Steve. How'd it go this morning? Just fine, sir. If it wasn't for Sullivan and his slow books, we'd be even farther ahead of schedule. Would you listen to him? I'll leave it to you, boss. Ain't we number one gang? Uh-oh. You're not going to get me into that argument again. But, sir, in all, these men are members of the two finest rigging gangs in the world. Yeah, that's right, boss. Gentlemen, it is a great pleasure. I must congratulate you all on your work upon this magnificent bridge. Now, Mr. Hill, if you'll come this way while the men are off the tower, I'll show you a little problem that gave us quite a headache. But certainly, would it be possible for the ladies to accompany us? My wife, she's most interested. Always she must listen to me talk of bridges so she feels she should know something about them. Why, of course. It'll be perfectly safe. Ruth. Oh, yes, boss. Will you and Madam Renault come this way? Oh, may I come too far? All right, Jimmy, come along. But mind you, no climbing up on the guard rails to watch the steamer. Oh, now, please be careful, Jimmy. The men may seem very happy, Monsieur. Well, they're pretty proud to be working on the bridge. And there's keen rivalry between the various crews. Ah, fine workmen. They are the most important. Without them, what they steal and concrete in the world would not build such a bridge as this. Eh, tell me, Monsieur, what is the clearance above me and I water this bridge decades to ask? Let me tell Monsieur Renault father. All right, Jimmy. See if you can remember the figures. The minimum vertical clearance at Tenor is 220 feet. 100 feet greater than the Brooklyn Bridge and 20 feet more than the George Washington Bridge. That's right, Jimmy. The towers are 746 feet above the water. The central span measures 4,200 feet, four-fifths of a mile. It is three times the length of the Brooklyn Bridge span and 700 feet longer than the George Washington Bridge. Now, Jimmy, please. Now, that's enough. Oh, but madam, let him go on. I'm most into it. Don't encourage him, Monsieur Renault. I think he's accumulated more facts about the bridge than any of us on the job. Oh, what a wonderful view from here. All of the bay and down below the big ocean liner they go out to sea. Now, below the work is finished. She's above the dinner, ask me. I see the cable work is almost ready for the... what you call them in English. Suppose you tell me, Monsieur Jimmy. You mean the suspenders, sir? Yes, that is it. The robbling company has the contract for all cables and the bridge will require a total wire length of 80,000 miles. Now, Jimmy, I think you'd better let your father explain the bridge to Monsieur Renault. But no, your husband is too modest. He is like his men. To him, it is a job to be done. Tell me, Monsieur Jimmy, what are you going to do when you become a man? Well, sir, first I'm going to an engineering college and I'm going to build a suspension bridge that will make this one look like a toy. It is plain to see. We impress the younger generation, not at all. That's right. Come on, boys, that means time to get back to work. Come on, men, let's build ourselves a bridge. All right, come on, boys. The bridges that man builds over rivers to speed his travel over natural obstacles may be compared with the achievements of chemical science that bridge the way to a fuller life for everyone. Likewise, the history of chemistry shows that chemical processes used to make one product often bridge the way to other products. The production of commercial explosives used in blasting foundations for the bridges mentioned in tonight's stories call for large quantities of nitric acid such as DuPont makes in a plant near Charleston, West Virginia. In this plant with the aid of coal, hydrogen is taken from the water and nitrogen from the air. Then these two gases are combined under tremendous pressure as high as 15,000 pounds to the square inch to produce liquid ammonia. In the same plant, by changing the gas mixtures but using the same high pressures, other important products are obtained. And one of them is the chief ingredient of Xerone, Z-E-R-O-M-E, a DuPont anti-freeze solution for automobile radiators. Many of us remember when the first signs of cold weather meant jacking up your car in the garage, draining the radiator and leaving it there until spring. But think of this winter, one of the severest in years. We go merrily along, running our cars day after day in zero temperatures or below. Why? Because chemical research has developed radiator anti-freeze solutions that make such comfort and convenience possible. I can tell you that mental opt to motorists throughout the east to woke up this morning to find zero temperatures that arrived overnight. DuPont chemists created Xerone as an especially efficient, scientific, economical and non-corrosive anti-freeze, which if used in proper quantities will protect the radiator of your car against freezing down to any temperature. More than three million motorists are enjoying the services of their cars this winter because of the protection which Xerone affords. The development of this product has opened up a new market for American coal, thousands of tons of which are used in DuPont's high pressure plant. The valuable products of this single enterprise in chemical research amply justify the DuPont phrase better things for better living through chemistry. Next week at this same time DuPont will present Heroes of the Sea another dramatic episode in the cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. W-A-B-C, New York.