 Tonight, the DuPont Company brings you that power girl starring Peggy Ann Garner on the Cablecade of America. Probably the only parents who do not regard their little children as blessings are the parents of geniuses. A genius in the household is always a great responsibility and often a great nuisance. That has been said before and it's true but after you hear tonight's play we think you'll agree that a child genius is a blessing too, like all other children. First here is Gane Whitman. Broken bones, injuries even more severe, are often caused in the home by rugs that slip and slide out from under you. Do you have a small rug at the head of a dangerous staircase? Do you have a bath mat beside the tub in the bathroom? For safety's sake, make rugs stay where they belong with DuPont rug anchor. A sponge rubber underlay designed to make rugs stay put. No matter how slippery the floor, rug anchor clings. Dust proof, waterproof, vermin proof, rug anchor is one of the DuPont Company's better things for better living through chemistry. Tonight we present Peggy Ann Garner as Morgue Powell on the DuPont Cablecade of America. To American children, summer means vacation, play, no school. It means that today and it met the same in 1876, which is when our story opens. It's a warm July afternoon. All the children in Aurora, Illinois are at play. All that is except one little girl. My darling, haven't you practiced enough? You've been in there all afternoon. Oh, mother, my hands just won't do what I tell them. Well, let it go for now, dear, and don't worry about it. Mother, my hands aren't made for the piano. My darling, when I was your age I didn't play a note. But I want to, mother. Oh, it'll come. Don't try to rush it. Why, you already play better than any other little girl in town. And I'd play better than any other boy, too. Yes, dear. Now, how about a glass of milk? Mother, what, dear? The concert last night. Yeah? I never heard a violin play alone like that. It was very nice, wasn't it? I've been thinking about it. My hands are too little for the piano, but they wouldn't be for a violin. Oh, I know I could play one. Now, Maude, one thing at a time. The piano first. Mother, please, please get me a violin. Maude, when I was your age I had dreams of becoming all sorts of things. An actress. And then for a while I wanted to be a lady fireman and wear red bloomers. But never a violin. Oh. Little girls don't play the violin. You just learn a little singing and a little sewing and forget about the violin. Don't you think I could learn to play one? It's a very difficult instrument. Mother, sit here, please. What for? I want to show you something. Now, you sit at the piano and I'll turn my back so I can't see the keys. Ready? I don't know what for, but I guess I'm ready. Play a note. Any old note. Just play it. E flat. Hit another. Why? That's right. Course it's right. Hit another. G sharp. And it's a little out of tune. C-A-F. Perfect pitch. You have perfect pitch, Maude Powell. Mm-hmm. Missingersole told me on Monday. She said violins have to have perfect pitch. Oh, now can I learn to play the violin? Maude, what good would it do? Where would you ever get to play a violin? Everywhere, because I'm going to be a great musician like Mr. Soray and play in concerts. Just me alone with my violin. Dear Mr. Soray is a man, you're a girl. Girls don't become professional musicians. In Europe they do. Now that's enough, Maude. You're not in Europe. You're a girl in Aurora, Illinois, and you're not good. Those two things have ruined my whole life. That's what they've done. I hate being a girl and I hate being an American. William. Minnie, what are you doing out here on the lawn? Waiting for you. Is there something wrong? It's Maude. Minnie, she's... Oh, no, no, she's not sick. I'll come over here for a minute, Bill. You can hear it from under her window. Hear it? Hear what? What is all this? Listen. Oh, it's happening to her. Why is she making that noise? Has she got asthma? It's a violin. A toy violin. Toy? Well, why didn't you stop her? It's after midnight. Oh, you don't understand. No, but at the night. She wants to learn the violin. She probably bought that toy. She's been in her room since eight o'clock, doing that over and over and over. Well... Bill, she looks so bad and misses her meals. Well, we'll put a stop to that. Come on, Minnie. No, no, no. I could have done that. But I waited until you got home, Bill. Why? It's past her bedtime. Bill, taking that violin away from her won't help. We've got to let her take violin lessons on a good instrument. If we don't, well, well, this will go on and on. I guess you're right, my dear. Well, what do we do about it? I'm going to Chicago tomorrow, Bill, and find some violin teacher who will take Maude as a student. Oh. Who's down there? It's us, Maude, mother and dad. Oh. You've been listening? Yes. We've been listening, Maude. I guess I'm not very good yet, am I? I've heard better, but I'd tell them, Minnie, maybe she'll go to bed and get some sleep. All right. Maude, dear, we're going to find a violin teacher in Chicago for you. Here, here, here. Don't jump out the window, Maude. Oh, do you really mean it? Yes, darling. Then I can show everyone. I'll show them how I can play. And daddy, daddy, if I get real good, would you let me change my name to Paleski? Fine. Fine. Little fry line. Fine. Thank you, Mr. Heinemann. Mrs. Power. Mr. Lewis called me here today. I expected real, uh, so-so, something or other, but this little girl, you like to them. I mean, Heinemann, the critic says yes. He likes it. I knew it. Her technique is nearly perfect. And I have perfect pitch, Mr. Heinemann. Perfect pitch, huh? That is naughty. Nothing. Many people have it. But many people do not have what you. Mr. Lewis. Yes? How long did she work on this Bach preludio? About a month. It's a graduation exercise. And next week, she's to play the Mendelssohn concerto at a concert with the orchestra society in a hometown. Her first public performance. Only a month, you ought to be congratulated, Mr. Lewis. I wish I deserved the compliment, Mr. Heinemann, but, well, she's a natural musician. Yeah. Yes, I've seen it. After only one year, there's nothing more she can learn from me. I see. Freiline Powell. Yes, sir? Give me your hand. Also, little Freiline, I am going to say something to you that I would hesitate to say to almost anyone, but you are a genius. Oh, Lord. I'd hoped you'd say that, Mr. Heinemann. No. She will go on with her studies, yes. Oh, yes. Mr. Lewis, we can go on, can't we? Maude, not with me. I can't teach you any more. Mrs. Powell, I couldn't take your money. In the years she's been with me, she's, well, she's outstripped the teacher. Hmm. Very honest man. Well, it's true. I am a teacher of polite music to schoolgirls, not a master of young geniuses. Well, she feels more music than I could ever learn. Mr. Lewis, is it, well, is it because I'm a girl? Oh, no, dear, it certainly isn't, it's because I don't know enough. I don't think there's anyone in America equipped to teach you. Well, Mr. Lewis won't teach me any longer, and, well, he's the best in Chicago. Oh, yes, you are. You're a feared Freiline. And the boy. You could be sent to the Hochschule Leipzig Trimbley. But, if I were a boy? Can't she go anywhere? I mean... They take only boys. Maude, baby, I'm so sorry. You mean I can't go on with my lessons? Oh, Lord, you can go on playing for yourself, for your mother and father. What isn't as though you have to put the violin aside forever? Ah, it is criminal to raise the talent like this once in a million lifetimes it comes. And then it has to come to me, a girl, a girl in a royal annoy, instead of some boy in Berlin or Paris or Rome. Well, I wish it had, that's what I wish. I wish it had gone to some old boy. Maude, baby. It's all right, mother. It's not your fault. Mr. Heinemann, I'd like to thank you for coming up here and for listening to us. Us? Who is us? Patsy. That's my violin and me. She's a girl, too. You'll be able to keep Patsy, dear. She's yours. No, I want Mr. Lewis to have her after my concert next week. At least she should be able to go on playing. And I'll be a good girl, mother. I'll learn my singing and my sewing, and after a while I'll get myself a husband. But I won't like him. Whatever he is, I won't like him at all. Old things. What things? Is this you don't like? Men. Old things. Yes. We are old things. It's a man's world, all right. Maude, as your teacher believed me, would any of us give our right arms if things could be different? Mr. Lewis? Yes, Maude. When I said that about men, I didn't mean you or Mr. Heinemann or daddy. You know that. Yes, Maude. I understand. Well, then, can I... is it all right for me to kiss you goodbye? You'd better. Even if I am a genius? Even if you're a genius. Goodbye, Maude. Pleasure. Are you ready, mommy? Yes, dear. I'll send Patsy up to Mr. Lewis after she and I have made our first public appearance together. Our first and our last. And so Maude Powell met her first setback when she realized that further study in America was impossible for her and that being a girl had limited her possibilities of studying in Europe. But she gave her first public performance in her hometown of Aurora, Illinois to an audience that overflowed the seating capacity and one that sat enthralled while she played. I went in the orchestra for accompanying me. I hope they didn't feel silly accompanying a girl. It was nice of you to listen to me because, well, as you might have heard, the last time I'll get to play, the last time I'll get to really play the violin. Thank you. Goodbye. Good night, Maude Powell. Thank you. Well, let's go home. All right, dear. Let's give the Powell family a big hand as they go out. Before we break up, I've got a couple of words to say. As mayor of this town, I'm awful proud of that little girl. And I guess you are, too. It seems to me it's a cry and shame. She can't go on with her study. Now I sat down yesterday and wrote a letter. Maybe it'll do no good at all, but at least it's a try. It's a letter from the mayor and people of Aurora, Illinois to His Excellency, the mayor of Leipzig, Germany. And it asks if they maybe couldn't just this once make an exception and take a female student in their hope school or whatever they call it, kind of as a bit of international goodwill. Now, what do you think of that idea? All right, all right, I'll send the letter. But don't anyone tell the Powell family. Don't want to get their hopes up, because, well, because the reply may be bad. But it's a chance. It's a fighting chance and worth trying by glory. You're listening to Peggy Ann Garner as Maude Powell in That Powell Girl on the Cavalcade of America sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Today, when you pick up a concert program and see a woman as soloist, you take it pretty much for granted. But it took a spunky little girl named Maude Powell, a girl with the same courageous spirit American women have always displayed, to really convince the world that women should be accepted as equals in the concert and music world. Maude made her first and she thought her last public appearance as a concert violinist in Aurora, Illinois. But the people of the town determined that Maude should play for the world. A collection realized enough money to send her to the Hock Shuler in Leipzig. But there she faced competition where a girl had never before stood. It's not lost. Also, that is the last contestant, but didn't they tell me there was to be an Americanist girl? Yes, there is. But she must have dressed as a boy. One of those young boys is a girl. It might be number three. Not at all number four. If we know their names, we could tell. That is precisely why we give them numbers. Now, gentlemen, let us vote for the best of the lot, for the top winner. Number six, naturally. Yes, yes, yes, by all means. Also, will contestant number six step forward, please? So you are contestant number six. And it gives me great pleasure, young man, to inform you that you are the winner. What is your name, sir? M. Powell, sir. M. Powell. She is the girl one. Well, what shall we do now? We have never had a girl before. Think about it, sir. We can take her. Yes, of course. She has the greatest talent. Yes, that's right. Troi Line M. Powell, you have broken a tradition of the Leipzig Hock Shuler that is almost 300 years old. We now have a girl student. Thank you, sir. I hope you... Yeah? What are you going to say? I was going to say I hope you won't regret taking me in. But you won't. I swear you won't. Wait till you see how hard I'll work. Yes, little girl, you will work very hard. This is not a tea party here. It taxes the strength of boys. As for girls, perhaps you won't be able to stand it. Now then, Fred and Powell, if you can stay awake long enough, you will please define a concerto. Concerto is a musical competition. Maude, darling, I don't think you weigh 70 pounds these days. You can't keep it up, Maude. You'll get sick. Oh, no, I won't, mother. That's what some of them want. I won't get sick. And I'll play at the concert in Berlin next week. You wait and see. Dr. Lina Empai Teare Stolz. He is the star student in the Leipzig Hock Shuler Hock Shuler, Pauline M. Powell. Coffee smells good. Couldn't I have some Cambridge coffee, please? Eat your breakfast, dear. You may be the toast of Berlin, but you're still not old enough for coffee. All right. Any mail that's interesting? I'm just looking. There's nothing from home. Do as your papa would write more often. What is it, mother? What's the matter? Here's one that says from Buckingham Palace in England. Have you any friends at Court, dear? What is it? Her Majesty the Queen requests the honor. Maude, a command performance. You're to play before Queen Victoria in Buckingham Palace. Please present the little girl. Yes, Your Majesty. You create very nicely, Miss Powell. Thank you, Your Majesty. Come up here, child. Yes, Your Majesty. Miss Powell, the reports we had of you did not do you justice. You are even more brilliant, a musician than we had heard. Thank you, Your Majesty. Miss Powell, a moment ago I whispered something to your American ambassador. I told him that you, Miss Powell, are like him, an ambassador too. You serve notice on the world that America is growing up. Now she sends us not just red Indians at Wild West shows, but a beautiful, civilized talent. You're very kind, Your Majesty, and on behalf of... Yes? What are you going to say? I forgot. I guess I said it. Thank you. Now, child, the orchestra is going to play our national anthem. Do you know it? Yes, Your Majesty. I believe you have different words in your country. Isn't that true? Yes, Your Majesty. We call it America. Come, stand beside me, my dear. I want you to sing it for us with your words. I couldn't sing it, Your Majesty. Oh, why not? Excuse me, Your Majesty, but, well, I don't like to sing. No. All well-bought-up girls should know how to sing. Yes, sing a little and sew a little. Oh, you're ashamed of being a girl, is that it? Well, no, Your Majesty. I just wish I... I weren't a girl. What's the matter with the girls? Do you think a king could rule England better than I do? Oh, no, Your Majesty, I didn't mean that. Miss Powell, I'm a woman, and I rule an empire. You said yourself no man could do it better. Yes, Your Majesty, but, well, you were born to be a queen. And you were born to be an American. They've told me that all women are queens in America. And so you, Miss Powell, you are a symbol of your country's nobility, and spirit too, if I may say so, my child. I... I've never thought about it that way. Then do, my child. Music, please. My country too... Sing out, my girl. Sing for your country which has taught and will teach the world so much. Sing for all of us who will set the world free. From then on, Maude Powell was known as one of the greatest concert violinists in the world. This great American genius might have been just a village music teacher had it not been for the community spirit of her fellow townsman who financed her studies. That spirit is typical of America, and a peculiar thing it is that a nation so vast can seem so comfortingly small when you need a good neighbor. That is America, though, a community where we guard the precious welfare of all our citizens. Here is Gain Whitman speaking for DuPont. During the holiday season every year, you are asked in one way or another by a friend, by a male, or perhaps over the radio to buy colorful Christmas seals of the National Tuberculosis Association. What a fine tribute it is to American generosity that all of us have been glad to buy these seals for 40 years. And what splendid results our generosity has brought. The money from Christmas seals has helped to support the men and women of science who are now carrying the long fight against tuberculosis successfully into the last round. In the grim battle against disease, which has rescued us from one dread killer after another, science never rests. Tuberculosis is no longer the great white plague, as it was once called because men and women of the medical profession and their allies in science have attacked the dread TB on half a dozen battle fronts. One weapon they use is the fluorescent screen, which glows under the action of X-rays, enabling doctors to see a shadow image of the interior of the human body and photograph what they see. The roll call of scientists who have worked to perfect fluorescent screens is a lengthy one. William Rentgen made the first one half a century ago. Thomas Edison worked long hours in his laboratory to find a better material with which to coat them. Carl Patterson, a young chemist experimenting in a home laboratory, developed a new and brighter fluorescent material containing cadmium tongue state. Slowly through the years, fluorescent X-ray screens have been developed to a point where by their aid, radiographs or X-ray pictures may be made of the chest in a fraction of a second. Or the Rentgenologist may visually study, without the slightest distress to the patient, the functioning of the living lung. Fluorescent X-ray screens are dramatically doing their part to preserve human life. We of the DuPont Company are grateful that American business enterprise worked hand in hand with science to bring these screens to their present high stage of development. Those most widely accepted by the profession are made by the Patterson Screen Division of the DuPont Company as DuPont, better things for better living through chemistry. Next week in Commemoration of Christmas, the DuPont Cavalcade brings you a specially prepared Christmas program. Instead of a Christmas story, you will hear an entire program of some of the best-loved Christmas carols of all times sung by the DuPont Company chorus. The DuPont chorus is composed of 177 employees of the DuPont Company and is under the direction of Daniel W. Boyer. Among some of the songs you will hear is The Gay Deck the Halls, which is loved and sung in the British Isles, The Warm and Tender Carol, Jason Bambino, and by popular request, the chorus concludes the program with the beloved favorite, Silent Night. Be sure and listen next Monday at the same time when the DuPont Company chorus will bring you a special program of Christmas carols on the Cavalcade of America. The music for tonight's DuPont Cavalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Armbrister. The violin solos were played by David Frasina, a concertmaster with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. Peggy Ann Garner may soon be seen in the 20th Century Fox Technicolor Picture, Bob's Son of Battle. Our Cavalcade play was written by Luther Davis. In the cast with Peggy Ann Garner tonight were Helen Bennett as the mother, William John Stone as the father, Herb Butterfield as Heinemann, Tom Collins as Lewis, and Gloria Gordon as Queen Victoria. This is John Easton inviting you to listen next week to a program of Christmas carols sung by the DuPont Company chorus on the Cavalcade of America brought to you by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. The Cavalcade of America came to you from Hollywood. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.