 Presenting Walter Houston in America for Christmas on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Good evening, this is Walter Houston. Tonight on a small island in the lonely distances of the Pacific. An island you never knew before existed and will find with difficulty on the map. A troop of soldiers, a handful of Navy men, few Marines, one or two fliers and a medical staff are celebrating Christmas. I said celebrating, but perhaps there is a better word for it. Perhaps I should have said reminiscing about their former Christmas celebrations which took place in the dim and distant past, in different settings and under different circumstances. It is with such servicemen and women as these in mind that tonight we bring you this special Christmas play. And so with the best wishes of the season, the DuPont Company presents America for Christmas by Peter Lyon, in which I have the pleasure of appearing in the part of a master of ceremonies for an overseas USO camp show entertainment unit. We're happy to have as our soloist an authority on American folk music, the composer of Bad for Americans, Earl Robinson. We are now on our small island in the Pacific. Its name will remain undisclosed for reasons of military security, but you can be sure that every inch of its ground is by now familiar to every man stationed there. By now they've eaten their Christmas dinner and opened their Christmas packages, but there's one remaining package addressed to all the men still to be opened, a package of good cheer and glad tidings to the men in their home away from home. The group has just finished a Christmas carol and the emcee and old vaudeville trooper steps forward to open the show. Very good, very good. I'd like to sign you all up to join our troupe. Which one of you guys was singing tenor? Me. Well, we'll sign everybody but you. Well, what about it fellas? Has it been a good Christmas? Why, sure. It's been okay. You don't sound very sure. Ah, who are you guys kidding? Not even yourselves. Two Christmases ago I was in Oregon standing two feet deep in snow. Look at these palm trees. Is this Christmas? Yeah, that's what I thought. That's what all of us in this troupe figured. Me and Marilyn here in June in the quartet there and Sandy over there with the guitar. We had a dope blood ride, right Marilyn? Right. Right. Well, we thought everybody's been giving everybody else some Christmas presents, right? Right. All except we haven't given you any. No show tonight. That is no regular show. And we've got a special one, right? Right. Right. We have caused to be constructed a show, something brand new, bright and different. Songs and stories from our travels all over the country we love. And it's our present to you. It's the best we can do. It's all we can do. Okay? Okay. Okay. Places everybody. The stage, that's over there. No curtain, but you can imagine it now rising, orchestra finishing the overture, light stemming. Here it is, America for Christmas. What are they singing about? They're singing about America, young lady, and Columbia is her symbol. She's a big country and a great country, a hot and cold country, an empty one and crowded. She's an all over country. And whatever you want, you'll find her in America. That's why they're singing about her. They? Who are they? They're the people, young lady, the people who live in America and sing songs about her and tell stories about her and lie about her and brag about her and love her. The farmers on her plane and the men who built her cities and made her strong. Roll on, Columbia. Roll on, Columbia. They're all over America right now, singing and talking and telling tall tales. If you want to meet them, you'll have to travel the whole country fast. Let's go. All right, and discover America all over again. Where do we start? Well, let's see. Might as well start with the pilgrim started, I guess. On the shores of New England. Old Stormy was a fine old man. It's New England, the song of the men who go down to the sea and ships, down to the sea from craggy inlets and deep sea ports. There's rocks all over New England. All over? All over. Even the fields and meadows of the New England farms makes it tough to make a living. There was a farmer in New England who invited his minister to pay his farmer visit. The two of them, the farmer and the minister, walked over the stony fields. The minister sang, Why was it you wanted me to come out on your farm? Reverend, I want you to pray to God with me that I'd get better crops. What this land needs is not prayer, but fertilizer. That's New England, a rocky country. Men get to be shrewd traders in that country, they have to. What's a shrewd trader? A shrewd trader is a... Well, do you want to watch a couple of shrewd traders in operation? A Yankee peddler with a wagonload of Yankee notions. Pulled up in front of the Yankee General Store. The storekeeper going down into the road and asking... What's the price of your razor straps? A dollar each for these straps. Dollar piece? They'll be sold for half the money before the year's out. One of these straps is sold for 50 cents within a year. I'll make you a present of one, mister. You will, will you? Now... A ban? Or your ban? Yep. You're the witness to the contract? Yeah, I'm the witness. All right, peddler. I'll purchase a strap on those conditions. It's your dollar. Contract to contract? I'll stick to it. Ben, I don't much like this drop now that bought it. How much do you give me for it? Hey. Well, you're seeing that you'll give you 50 cents for it. Hey, now, see here. Here you are, Ben. 50 cents. It's yours. All right, all right. You win. Here's your strap for free. Want to watch out for yourself when you're in Bethel, mister peddler? Some pretty sharp fellas around here. Trouble. Nothing to brag about. I made 75 cents on that deal. How's that? I got a dollar for two straps, which cost me only 12.5 cents a piece. I heard of the cute tricks of you, Bethel fellas. I generally sell these straps for only 25 cents a piece. But gentlemen, if you want any more at 50 cents a piece, I'll be happy to supply your whole village. Yes, sir. Anything else you want to buy now? Nope. Ben, shaved enough by you, tin peddlers. Want any more of you? It's very hard to condemn a whole class because of one or two dishonest ones. Give me a fair trial. I'm traveling all through this countryside. I can get rid of your unsalable goods. Nope. Yeah. Tell you what I'll do. I'll give you a fair chance. I'll sell you anything I have in my wagon at my lowest wholesale price and we'll take an exchange, anything you please to pay me from your store at the retail price. Mm-hmm. There, ain't it? I'll look over your goods. Got a lot of wet stones there. That how much? Old sale price of wet stones is $3 a dozen. I'll take $12 a dozen then. All right. That's $36, you owe me. For which I'm to take such goods as you please at retail price. Now, uh, what are you going to pay me in? In wet stones? Retail price, Pip Sans? You'll get just six dozen. There's a couple of suit traders. Let's move on. Let's get away from the rocky country. You think that's a bad country? Well, I meet the fella from Maryland. The dogs in Maryland are so poor that they have to lean against the fence to bark. It takes three or four pigs all at once to pull up a blade of grass. And if they want to cast a shadow away, it takes six pigs to do that. Should we go further west? If the country in the east is also bad... The rest of that country you're on into West Virginia. Now there is some country, hill country. You want to hear a West Virginia on the subject? All hills and valleys in West Virginia, valleys real narrow. So narrow the dogs have to wag their tails up and down, can't wag them back and forth. While there's one valley in West Virginia so narrow that the moonshine has to be wheeled out on a wheelbarrow every morning and the daylight wheeled in. Well, come along, little girl. You've got a lot of traveling to do. I heard that railroad whistle blow, blow, blow. Yes, I thought I heard that railroad whistle blow. And I thought I heard that lonesome whistle blow, blow, blow. And it blowed like it never blowed before. Taking this train, jump on. Where does it go? West? West. West, and it goes right by Pittsburgh. Have to look fast if you want to see it. Well, where is it? I want to see Pittsburgh. There, there, there's a Pittsburgh fella. I've been working at Pittsburgh Steel. I thought you know. I've been dumping that red hot slag way down the road. I've been a blast and I've been firing. I've been pouring that red hot iron. I've been having some hard traveling lords. If you want to get iron, you go in the hole. You want to get sink, you go in the hole. You want to get lead, you go in the hole. You want to get coal, you go in the hole. You want to get oil right out of the ground. You dig a little hole about ten miles down. And that's what you get by going in the hole. Still going west, same road that Dan Elbowne and David Crockett took. Only we can go a little faster. Riding on the Wabash Cannonball. Mhmm. Pies along the wood by the shore. Hear that mighty Russian inch howl. Through the country on the Wabash Cannonball. Just like our grandfathers did Elboru, and that's what they wanted. They didn't want to neighbor any nearer than ten miles. Besides, it's greener on the other side. The other side of what? The Mississippi River, the granddaddy of them all. M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-T-I. That's right. The boatmen floating down on rafts. Talking easy on the night air, talking big, talking quiet. Making up stories just to hear the sound of their tongues wagging. Like these two men talking about their river, the big old Mississippi. Listen to me. Yep. This nice old muddy Mississippi River water is wholesomer to drink than the clear water of the Ohio. Let a pint of this yellow Mississippi water settle. You'll have about a half to three quarters of an inch of mud in the bottom. What you want to do is keep it stirred up. Yep, that's right. Now there's nutrition in this good old mud. Now you look at the graveyards. That tells the tale. What trees won't grow worse shucks than a Cincinnati graveyard. But now in a St. Louis graveyard, why the trees grew up at 800 feet high. And it's all on account of the water that people drunk before they laid up. A Cincinnati corpse don't rich in the soil any. That wasn't all I talked about either. They talked about old mosquitoes, for instance. Mosquitoes in the Mississippi River Valley. I heard a man talking about those mosquitoes once. Well, sir, I'll tell you. Now the state of Arkansas has been injured and kept back by generations of exaggerations concerning the mosquitoes there. Why, sir, these mosquitoes have been persistently represented as being formidable and lawless. But the truth is they are feeble, insignificant in size, diffident to a false sensitivity. Now if you really want to hear about some formidable mosquitoes, sir, why then they are the Lake Providence Colossus. Lake Providence? There are large mosquitoes there. Two of them can whip a dog. Four of them can hold a man down. I must say that that's... Why, sir, this may strain your cadulity, but I even seen those mosquitoes at Lake Providence trying to vote. What? Well, I have seen them canvassing around the pole. Excuse me, gentlemen. I overheard what you were saying about mosquitoes, and I was about to add simply that the biggest mosquitoes I've ever seen was a little further to the west, in Oklahoma. Years ago, gentlemen, I saw four mosquitoes kill a buffalo. Kill a buffalo, yes, sir. And pick his bones clean and leave him to bleach in the sun. Good day, sir. What do you know? What's the matter? His story seemed a little sizable. I can't stand a lie, sir. I just can't stand a lie. You're listening to America for Christmas, starring Walter Houston as the master of ceremonies in a traveling USO camp shows unit on the cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. In our play tonight, Walter Houston portrays an old vaudeville who is leading his USO troop through the southwest Pacific, and on this Christmas night, they are entertaining a company of servicemen and women on a tiny Pacific island, entertaining them by giving them the best Christmas present they know. A memory of America as they remember her through our American folklore. They've covered the eastern half of the country on their special Christmas show. They're in the valley of the Mississippi right now, and I think... Yes, they're in the station, buying their tickets to the next stop. More that Rock Island line is a mighty good road. Yes, that Rock Island line is a road to ride. And if you want a ride, you've got to ride it like you find it. Get your ticket at the station on the Rock Island line. And so now we're across the Mississippi. This must be our Kansas. Please, Marilyn. What's the matter? The name of this state is not Arkansas. My poor, benighted child. It is it? That's what it looks like when you see it. Arkansas. No, no, no, no, no. Maybe you don't realize how strongly folks in this state feel on the subject. Years ago, there was a debate right in the state legislature when someone proposed that the state go on record to change its name from Arkansas to Arkansas. Another fellow, well, he got up and made a big speech. Mr. Speaker, you blue-bellied rascal. I have, for the last 30 minutes, been trying to get your attention. And each time I have caught your eye, you have wormed, twisted, and squirmed like a dog with a fleeting sigh. Gentlemen, you may tear down the honored pictures from the halls of the United States Senate. Hold down the stars and stripes. Curse the goddess of liberty. But your crime would in no wise compare an enormity with what you propose to do when you will change the name of Arkansas. Compare the lily of the valley to the gorgeous sunrise. The discordant croak of the bullfrog to the melodious tunes of the nightingale. The bray of a Mexican mule to the classic strings of Mozart. But never change the name of Arkansas. No, a thousand times no. They didn't change the name of Arkansas, did they? No, they left it alone. And is Arkansas related to Kansas? No relation at all, little girl, not even first cousins. But they missed touching each other at their border by 40 miles. In fact, down in Arkansas, people sing a song about the people up north in Kansas. Oh, they chatter back a thin in Kansas. Oh, they chatter back a thin in Kansas. Oh, they chatter back a thin and it rolls right down their chin. And they lap it up again in Kansas. Oh, potatoes they grow small in Kansas. Potatoes they grow small in Kansas. Oh, potatoes they grow small and they dig them in the fall Eat them tops and all in Kansas. Come all who want a roll. I don't think I want to stay in Kansas, is that what it's like? Well, it's not exactly like that, but the potatoes really aren't quite as big as they are in, say, Idaho. They grow big potatoes in Idaho? Big potatoes in Idaho? Well, I should think pretty sizable. Couple of years ago, when they built an army camp in Idaho, one of the mess sergeants went around to see about buying some potatoes. Spoke to one of the Idaho farmers who had a little farm. Raised potatoes on your land? Mm-hmm. Well, you sell me some, I need some for the army camp, other side of Lewiston. Well, how much do you want? Oh, 100 pounds. Hmm, only 100 pounds? Yeah. Nope, I wouldn't cut a spud in two for no one. Are we out of Arkansas yet? Ah, yes, this is Texas. We'll be here quite a spire. I should think so. It's so big. And the people here, well, I think quite a bit about their climate here, too. Whether, you know, comes different pretty often. Well, seeing there's so much of Texas, I should think the weather would be all different kinds. Yes, but the point is, in Texas, the weather is all kinds all at the same time. As the fellow says, nobody prophesies about Texas weather except newcomers and dumb fools. Came the time when a fresh young tenderfoot walked into a Texas saloon, walked up to the bar in order to drink. Men in the place, they said nothing. Just watched him. You know, young fellow finished his drink. Then he hauls off and says, well, I believe it's going to rain. My friend, did you know that there were only two kinds of people who prophesy about Texas weather? Two kinds of people who prophesy on Texas weather. Well, that's very clear. Who are they? Newcomers and dumb fools. I don't know about them, man. I don't know about them. You say there are only two kinds of people who prophesy on about Texas weather. Newcomers and dumb fools. Well, you're absolutely right. But after all, those are the only two kinds of people there are in Texas. How country through here, and to the north, and to the west. Further on west, you come to the desert where it's dry. Humor, where it's been known to get pretty warm sometimes when it's summer. And the migratory workers sing in the evening. Kirk in your orchard of peaches and prunes. And asleep on the ground, meet the light of your moon. On the edge of your city, you see us now and then. We come with the dust, and we go with California, Arizona. I make all your crops, and it's up north to Oregon to gather in your hearts from your ground. Cut the grapes from your vine to get on your table, your light spot. Come on, here we go again, north this time. Another train line. I'm riding on this blue river train. I'm riding on this blue river train. Carry me away. Got something special for you to see up north here. What's that? Something big? Biggest thing man has ever done. Well, this world has seven wonders. That travelers always tell. Some gardens and some flowers. I guess you know them well. But now the biggest wonder in Uncle Sam's Fairland. It's the King Columbia River and the Big Red Cooley Dam up in the state of Washington. She winds down her granite canyon. She bends across the lead, like a silver running stallion down her seaway to the sea. Well, she ripped our boat to split us, but she gave us dreams to dream. Of the day this Cooley Dam would cross that wild and wasted stream. Now as we join in battle, along with you and me, we'll spawn upon the Columbia River by the Big Red Cooley Dam. California? Are we going to California now? Climb it. That's all there is in California. The Californian says... We got the healthiest. It's a healthy when we started the graveyard. We had to shoot a man. Hearing which? If you raise your eyebrows in polite disbelief, the Californian says further. We don't have to prove it. We admit it. Well, that's about it. Time to be getting back home now. What? Oh, but we haven't seen nearly everything. For every part of the country a song or a story. Not time in half an hour to do them all justice. So, boys, I guess it's the end of the show. It was enough, mister. And if you're still wondering, I'll tell you, it's been an okay Christmas. That's been the best Christmas I ever had. For the last 20 minutes, I've been standing in two feet of snow back in Oregon. Okay. And we'll have one last song. Everybody sing. No matter the country a song or a story. But all the parts, all the states add up to one mighty hole. One America. Roll on, Columbia. Roll on. To you, Walter Houston, and the members of tonight's Cavalcade cast, our thanks. On this Christmas night, we are thinking the same thoughts you are of men far from home in deep snow and in tropical heat fighting the battle of freedom. What is in your hearts, our hearts, and their hearts has been said powerfully and beautifully by a soldier, a G.I. Let me read it to you. At the moment, it is difficult to think of victory as meaning anything but an end of fear, to loneliness and death, and a chance to go back to pick up the strands of interrupted life. Henceforth, each simple pleasure, each right we always took so lightly will take on rich meaning. We know what it costs to keep them, and we know too that we have really earned a share in them. But victory means much more. With victory, we stand on the threshold of limitless inventions and comforts. We possess the resources to extend our horizons in every field of endeavor and every aspect of human relations. However ancient and stubborn enemies are still to be conquered. Enemies which must be overcome, not by armies, but by minds and hearts and talents set wholly free. Such enemies are property, insecurity, prejudice, disunity. These too shall be conquered, for we have begun to think more deeply and more dynamically. And if we can sweep aside untold obstacles to smash the most ruthlessly efficient machines of destruction ever devised, surely we possess the vision and practical genius to organize for peace, security, and a world designed for living. Till now, many have ruled because of accident, of birth, and power, or wealth. But throughout the world, the unfit, the weaklings, and the traitors are falling by the wayside. New leaders are rising from the people, those who never sold their heritage of courage, faith, and simple human dignity. With victory, we shall have destroyed those who would have enslaved the world. Our sacrifices have been great, but we have won the opportunity to emerge from the animal kingdom and enter the kingdom of man. I look forward to living in such a world. I look forward to living in such a world. If a soldier risking his life at the front can say that, then certainly all of us can look forward. To all of you, the DuPont Company wishes a Merry Christmas. To the 34,000 DuPont men and women in the armed forces, we call Merry Christmas across the oceans. We send more than a greeting. We send our solemn pledge, we of DuPont, that we will not slow our efforts for one minute, that we will work and produce without let up until the last gun is fired and the white flag over Berlin and Tokyo, at last, gives us a chance to rest and say, now it's really over. That is the pledge and promise of the men and women who work for DuPont. This is Walter Houston. Good night, and God bless us all. Next week, the Cavalcade of America will bring you Anne Harding in Westward the Women, the story of Abigail Scott Dunaway. Abigail Dunaway, a farmer's wife, lived in the Oregon Territory in 1850. She managed a household. She raised four children. She was an average woman of that place and time with one difference, and this difference was an idea, an idea born in Mrs. Dunaway's kitchen, an idea which today affects the life of every American woman who fought for it. Listen next week to Westward the Women, starring Anne Harding on the Cavalcade of America. Tonight's Cavalcade play was based on A.L. Botkin's book, A Treasury of American Folklore, published by Crown Publishers. For use of special songs, Cavalcade is indebted to Woody Guthrie, and for their arrangement and erection to Earl Robinson. Heard in the program was the sportsman's quartet. The orchestra was conducted by Robert Ambruster. This is Gain Whitman sending you season's greetings on behalf of Cavalcade sponsor E.I. DuPont Dinemore's company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is the national broadcasting company.