 The Cavalcade of America, presented by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. There once lived an American whose name is little known, but it should be as familiar to us as the bread we eat, for he preserved the fertility of our vast American wheatlands. He was Mark Carlton, and we bring you his story in an original radio drama, Black Rust, written by Robert Talman. Starring in the role of Mark Carlton is William Johnstone of the Cavalcade players, our orchestra and the original musical score are under the direction of Don Vouries. DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents William Johnstone as Mark Carlton on the Cavalcade of America, rolling over the prairies, across state lines, south into the panhandle, north into Saskatchewan, westward to where a single farmhouse perches like a seagoing liner at the earth's curve. But there was a time when Americans despaired of the future of that vast granary, when the wheat stood parched in black and the western prairies were being abandoned to the dust and tumbleweed. A blight had come upon the land, bringing poverty and desolation, bringing bewilderment to the men trusted with the nation's bread, and the name of that blight was the Black Stem Rust. It is harvest time, the year 1893. Up a dusty lane to a once-prosperous farmhouse rolls a horse-drawn buggy at the gate it pauses, and a young man in city clothes steps down. He is Mark Carlton. Hey, Dad! Mom! It's Mark's law! Mark's law! There! Yeah, she's good to see you. Well, it's good to see you too, son. How's things in Wichita? Oh, fine, fine. I'm a full-fledged professor at the university now. Oh, I'm proud of you, Mark. Pa, you and Mark wash up. I'll set another place for you. We were just setting down to dinner. And am I hungry? I'll call you in a jiffy! All right. Mark cooking for harvest time? No, not this year, son. Winter crop ain't yielding more than two, three bushels an acre. Oh, Black Stem Rust again? Rust, drought, late freezing. Troubles never come, singly. No, they don't, do they? Never come singly. Maybe that's important. What are you driving at, son? Oh, nothing else, just thinking. Was that way before, wasn't it? I mean the drought and freezing weather and the rust all at once? Never like this, though. Step over here, son. Now, look out over that north field. What? It's nothing but dust. Pa! Well, Mark don't know how bad it is. She's got enough to worry here. But that field will never be fit to plant again. Gosh, dinner. I'm sorry. Oh, we're lucky, son. The children are moving out. Three years without a crop. Wouldn't nobody bid on that land at an auction now? What's going to become of them? Search me, son. What's going to become of all of us sweet farmers? It's like some kind of a curse on us. Those yellow spores in the air in our clothes, settling like dust in the house, you can't get away from them. I remember when I was a kid of 11, the first time it came. That sulfur smell in the air. The spores got in the men's noses and eyes and made them cry. And I thought they were crying because of the bad crop. Well, maybe it wasn't so far wrong, Mark. Maybe it was about half the spores and half the ruin of those fields. The spores started us off crying, and I tell you, Mark, we couldn't stop. Not wheat, maybe. More like barley. I wonder. What do you wonder, Mark Carlson? Amanda. Gee, you look nice, Amanda. Thanks. I'm into. I heard you got back. Your mother phoned over. Still the old matchmaker, isn't she? I like matches, don't you? Thanks. Come on over to the house. Folks are anxious to see you. All right, but only for a minute. What? I thought you were on your vacation. So did I. Black Rust was on a vacation, too. But it was only a vacation, wasn't it? It is awful, Mark. Pa says he doesn't know what folks are going to do. They'll make out, some of them. The government's testing out a new spray. Maybe that'll help. Maybe save the fall crop. It won't. Gee, you're full of optimism and good cheer, aren't you? Optimism, maybe. I'm going into farming, Amanda. I'm giving up my job at the university. Well, when did you decide to do this, Mark? Just now. Look at this wheat plant here, Amanda. It goes tall. Rust doesn't hit it. Survive the freezing and the drought. Why? Out of all this desolate field, why does this one plant escape the play? Mark, let me ask you a question. Why, when you see odds like that against you, do you want to quit your job and become a wheat farmer? Because I've got to find the answer to that question. Somewhere, that one healthy plant had an ancestor. I don't know where, but I do know America has no native wheat, but there must have been an ancestor. Some green that could survive bitter colds, scorching heat, that could suck water from a bone dry soil, and even shake off those black rust spores. A secret somewhere in this Kansas dirt, dirt very much like it. I'll start with this dirt. You would, wouldn't you, Mark? Just like that. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking as lucky you found out what kind of a fellow I am for it was too late. Mark, I'd be just as proud to be the farmer's wife. You know that. But there won't be any crop on my farm, even in good years, Amanda. I'm going to take black stem rust and smear it on every single plant. There will be enough wheat for a bag of seed, but there'll be enough to answer my question. How, Mark? I don't know what it looks like then. The wheat God meant man to sow on these plains. Pulaski? Evening, ma'am. Evening. You're going to get home late for supper, Mr. Pulaski. Oh, Anna will keep it for me. She always does. Thought I'd talk over and talk to you, Cotton. Sure. It's on your mind, Pulaski. Well, you excuse my saying so, Cotton, but maybe you could take a tip from an old hand at farming. You weren't going at your farming the right way. You worried about the weeds, eh, Pulaski? Yes, and you plant seeds crazy, all mixed up. That's why you get that black rust so bad. Well, this isn't exactly farming, Pulaski. You see, I'm deliberately trying to make the crop go bad. Oh, sounds crazy to me. It's joke, huh? Well, maybe it is. I don't know yet. Cotton, look at your crop and look at mine. I didn't have so much black rust. You had some, though, Pulaski. Not as much as the rest of us. That's true, but that's sort of curious, too. Well, Cotton, we men on nights, we pray very much. We don't get as much of the black rust as you people do. You try praying, Cotton. You'll see. Where do you buy your seed, Pulaski? From our church members, never from outsiders. You see, we men on nights are farmers since many generations. They drive us from many countries for our religion, always having to start over again. So always we bring a little bag of seed from the old country, like this one here. You came from Holland to America? Yes, but my father, he's Polish. His grandfather was Russian, maybe. They bought the seed from Turkey. It's Turkish wheat, maybe. Anyway, it goes fine in this new land. Would you sell me a bag of that seed, Pulaski? Sorry, Cotton. I couldn't. You understand I like to, but we never sell outside the church. You understand? Sure. Sure, I get it. I'm sorry, Pulaski. I didn't know it was that way in your religion. That's all right, Cotton. Well, I'll be getting over home now. Good evening. Good night. Good night. Think over what I said, Cotton. I will. Mark. Yes, dear? They keep their secrets close, those people. I wonder what that seed is they use. Even if we knew that, it still isn't immune to black rust. But the point is, Amanda, Mennonite wheat doesn't suffer as much from it. Those Russians and Poles know wheat country when they see it. They give me an idea. What, Mark? Somehow, some way, I'll get hold of a bag of their seed. Then I'll have the government send me a sample of every seed we've grown in every part of the world. Then I'll compare them all, and then rainfalls, mean temperatures. Finally, Amanda, I'll draw up these findings and charts and send them to the Secretary of Agriculture. Yes, and he'll read them and say that's very interesting. Where does that leave you? Why? If you'll see, I'm conducting experiments to find a rust-resisting wheat somewhere on this earth. And if he'll finance me, I'll find out where it is. And if he doesn't? We can't go on like this for another year, Mark. You know, Amanda, I think he will. Because it won't be just me asking. It'll be every desperate poverty-stricken farmer in the West. I'm home early, Mark. Letter came from Washington this morning. Here. Oh, good. This is it, Amanda, Department of Agriculture. Here, let's see now. Oh, what did it say, Mark? And listen to this, Amanda. I agree with you that your work must continue. If an appointment to this office, as head of government work on wheat, would make that possible, be assured that such an appointment is waiting you. Oh. There you are, darling. What did that tell you? Head of all the government work on wheat. Mark, that's wonderful. Yeah. He says nothing about the findings in my charts. Nothing about my conclusion, that I'll find a real rust-resisting wheat only in Russia. Oh, but that'll come in time, Mark. You can't expect him to pack you right off to Russia now. In time? Another crop like last year's in the whole West will be a howling dust storm. But when you get there and talk with him, then they'll... Well, it sounds like I'll be free to go ahead on my own program anyway. First, we'll alternate the crops. We know that helps. When that's in the way, then I'll go to Russia myself to find the real answer. There's just one thing, Mark. If you should be disappointed. I mean, if... If you don't find what you're looking for... Well, why do you say that? Well, they've had experts looking for something like this for a long time. You wouldn't be the first. You don't look for wheat in an office, Amanda. While I look for it, I'll find it. Mr. Carlson, on behalf of the Imperial Russian Government, allow me to welcome you to St. Petersburg. Thank you, Prince Petrov. You're very kind, sir. But the last what can the poor Russian peasant teach you remarkable American poems. That puzzles me. I think they can teach us a lot, Highness. You see, we've had very bad luck with our wheat crop lately. Oh? Perhaps you can't really be sure to buy Russian wheat? Well, not exactly. You see, I hope to find a strain of wheat that is immune to the Black Stem Rust. Somewhere in the Northern Crimea, to be exact. Oh, now I understand, of course. I will get you samples of all the Crimean beets. Well, thank you, but I'm afraid I'll have to see the wheat growing in its native soil in order to be sure. But the Northern Crimea, it is not at all the place to take a woman, Mr. Carlson. Oh, but, but I want to go there, Prince Petrov. I've been looking forward to it. How I admire you brave American women. It is the pioneer, I suppose. Well, I will give you a letter to Dizal's provincial governor, and good luck to you both. Pull up here, please, Lieutenant, in front of this hut. Ask him where he got the seed for this wheat. He says he got it from his grandfather. He says the old one brought it here from Kubalka. Oh, that is impossible. And why do you say that? Well, Kubalka is nothing but a frozen vase. This wheat is obviously a superior wheat. But they do grow wheat in Kubalka. Oh, after a fashion, I suppose. After all, they must eat. Well, thank them, Lieutenant. That's all I wanted to know. Not as if we'd come on a wild goose chase. Grown's frozen hard up here. Nothing could grow in such a wasteland. But they said in the village there was a protected valley. Beyond this mountain pass. They said it was green all winter long. That's what they said beyond the other pass. One before. The third time's a charm, Mark. Look, we're nearly to the top. All right. All fast, Amanda. Here we go. What do you see, Mark? It's a valley, all right. Right, steady. I'm all right now. Snow. More snow. But, Mark, look. Along the river there. Snow looks dirty. Must be thawing. No, close to the ground. I may be seeing things, but... Where are those muddy streets? But in rows like cultivated ground. They are. And Amanda, they're... They are green, aren't they? They are. It wouldn't be anything else at this time of year. It's we, Amanda. We've found it. You mean this is it, Mark? This is it, Amanda. Here is the secret of America's grain lands. Now to make them believe it. Mr. Carlton, of course we realize the importance of your discovery. It's just we can't take the responsibility of advising farmers to grow a totally new and untried strain. We untried? Mr. Secretary, this wheat has endured nothing but hardship of every kind since the dawn of civilization. I'm sure what you say is true, Mr. Carlton, but we must follow department procedure. And it was a fool's errand after all. On the contrary, Mr. Carlton, you've done an admirable job. I needn't emphasize that you are in line for a promotion. As for this new wheat, which you listed in the department bulletin, of course. In the department bulletin? Well, Mr. Secretary, gentlemen, there are other ways of talking to farmers. Over a fence at the section corner, outside the church on a Sunday, a town, the post office or general store. I'll talk to them myself. I'll be a one-man department of agriculture. And even if you don't like it here in Washington, you'll soon be eating bread made of cabanca wheat. Mr. Swenson, howdy, Ed. Howdy, Jim. How's things out your way, Jim? The same I reckon. Wait for me, Ed. Well, a trade mag's inside. I'll only be a minute. Yeah, sure. Fiction to harvest, Jim? Yep. Can't say I've done bad this year. Tried that russian wheat, Mark Carlton's been drumming up. You tried it yet? Tried it. Listen, my wheat's so tall, and not a spot of rust, anyway. Well, boys, hello, Joe. You and the missus staying in town this evening, Swenson? Sure thing. Harvest next week. You may not get another chance for some time. Yeah, me too. Say, see, by the paper, the government's decided to back Carlton's russian wheat. Aye, time. Should've done it last year. Yeah, him and his missus plans to settle down and farm here, bruv. They'll want him back in Washington. Word gets around about this wheat. You watch. Yeah, you watch. He better get back to Washington. He better not stay around here if he knows what's good for him. What's getting to you? Early harvest, too much for you? I took my wheat to the elevator. The same as last year, early. And boy, you're a good boy. The same as last year, early. And what do you think they said? They said this russian wheat, it's macaroni wheat. And they won't buy it. Why won't they buy it? It's too hard. The millers say their machines can't grind it. They had to throw it out last year. So that's what Carlton sold us on. Macaroni wheat. Some joke. Joke. My whole year's work for nothing. I'll show that cotton you say, man. I say we ought to give that cotton what for. What's going on here? I believe I heard my name mentioned. Well, what's wrong? You ought to know. It's your russian wheat, Mr. Carlton. They won't buy it. Macaroni wheat. That's what it is. Wait a minute. I think I understand what the trouble is. Believe me, the wheat's all right. Then why won't they buy it? Well, folks, as a matter of fact, the wheat is harder. That means they'll have to buy new equipment. What they don't realize is that if they don't use this wheat, there soon won't be any wheat to mill. We've got to explain that to them. When they hear our story, they'll come around. Yeah, but what if they don't? What'll I do with my crop? And my crop? If you don't sell your crop when I'm finished talking with them, I'll buy it myself. I ask the members of this association to meet me today because you, as well as the farmers of this nation, are facing a crisis. I don't come to you as a representative of the government. I come to you as a wheat farmer. Well, then you can understand why our mails can't grind this new idiot. Yes, I can understand that. But do you understand why it's necessary for the farmers to grow this wheat? Yes, we do, but we are Native American wheat. Gentlemen, there's no such thing as Native American wheat. Isn't that quibbling, Mr. Carlton? Far from it. When the pioneers first sowed wheat on these plains, they had no idea of climate conditions here, nor where their seed wheat came from. They did all right, though. For a while? Yes. That was before the black rust. Have you any idea how they're doing today? I think we make that our business, Mr. Carlton. Well, since you do, gentlemen, you'll be interested to know that 10 years more of this plague and the wheat fields of America won't be there anymore. Oh, come on. Isn't that never a statement, Mr. Carlton? It's an understatement. If you don't make provisions and make them quickly to use the only wheat our farmers can grow, you may as well go out of business because there won't be any wheat for you to grind. What makes you so sure that your wheat is the answer, Mr. Carlton? I've gone all over the world looking for it. Utilize this wheat of mine and you'll see the difference between a fine, even textured flour and a flour that lumps up and goes bad before you can even get it out of the mills. Mr. Carlton, can you be sure of your facts? Gentlemen, in this package, I've brought two loaves of bread. Examine them. They're identical except for the flour used in the baking. You see for yourself, the good loaf is made of Kubanka wheat. The wheat that was meant to be grown on these American plains. The nearest thing to a native wheat this continent will ever have. This is very persuasive, Mr. Carlton. But for all of us here, if we do change the equipment in our mills, if we do cooperate with you in this, what guarantee can we possibly hope for against such a risk? Gentlemen, the guarantee is a prosperous nation. One of the cavalcade players for their performance of Black Rust, the story of Mark Carlton. And now DuPont brings you news of chemistry at work in our world. In 80 plants across the nation, the DuPont Company manufactures a great variety of chemical products. And now another plant. A plant projected three years ago will start operations this week near Clinton, Iowa, out where the tall corn grows. There, for the first time west of the Mississippi, will be manufactured the transparent, sparkling film that has become such an accepted part of our daily life. Cellophane cellulose film. This plant is in the news today because it symbolizes our interdependent modern world. Here, a complicated technical process will be conducted at the very center, you might say, of the farm belt. Practical considerations come first in determining the location of a manufacturing plant. It must be accessible to its supply of raw materials and near its customers. To these are added considerations of human welfare. American industry is no longer concentrated in a few crowded cities. The employees at Clinton will have the beautiful Iowa countryside in which to make their homes. The words better living through chemistry here take on a very real significance. It's a consideration also that 500 local men and women around Clinton will have new jobs. From the broad point of view, a cellophane plant in an agricultural state traditionally known for its corn and hogs is an example of the new partnership growing up between industry and the farm. Cellophane protecting food products and making them more attractive helps sell the farmers' crops. Because more people buy, there's more demand for it. So a new plant for its manufacture is called for with everyone benefiting. A loaf of bread from Iowa wheat that ends up in a sparkling sanitary cellophane package helps to bring about the reductions in cost that have lowered the price of cellophane to a mere fraction only 12% of what it cost 16 years ago. An entirely new industry, quick-frozen foods now makes use of cellophane in its packaging. It's a direct partnership between science and the farm. The farmer provides the foods, chemistry helps to freeze and package them. Interesting as this new partnership between farmer and chemist may be, the glimpse of future possibilities it opens to us is still more thrilling. The farmer of the future will become an increasingly important source of industrial raw materials. Comergy, the chemical transformation of farm products is a new word that you don't find it in many dictionaries. But already corn products and vegetable oils turn up in such unexpected places as Dulux refrigerator enamel and carbon paper. And scores of other farm products are finding new destinies today thanks to the chemist. What the future holds for this partnership, no one can say. But it looks bright indeed. In saluting Clinton, Iowa, Cavalcade salutes the new bond between the farmer and the chemist which brings us, in the words of the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. And now the Star of Next Weeks program, John McIntyre of the Cavalcade Players. Next week our play is called I Sing a New World. It's a story of Walt Whitman, the great poet of our people whose song so richly and powerfully expressed that one spirit burning in the hearts of all Americans. We hope you'll be with us for our Cavalcade broadcast next week. On the Cavalcade of America your announcer is Clayton Collier sending best wishes from DuPont. This week the people of our country honor a great organization of American girls. The Girl Scouts of America. DuPont joins the nation in its tribute to the thousands of young girls and women who are maintaining the ideals of service, widely advanced in this patriotic movement of American youth. This is the National Broadcasting Company.