 The DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents Brian Donlevy on the Cavalcade of America. And here's our star, Mr. Donlevy. Good evening. Our play tonight is called Joe Palmer's Beard. Now, that's an unusual title, and the story behind the title is even more strange. It goes like this. Joe Palmer's Beard. You know, most of our grandfathers wore beards, but most of our grandfathers' grandfathers did not. The fashion started in 1860 when a little girl wrote to Abraham Lincoln and President-Elect and suggested that Lincoln grow whiskers to gain dignity. But before Lincoln, or nearly two centuries before Lincoln, beards had been shunned by all sane, upright, decent, respectable folks here in the broth. People felt strongly against beards, with one notable exception. A citizen of Fitchburg in Massachusetts named Joseph Palmer. Our scene, then, is a farmhouse near Fitchburg. It's long toward us to the warm June day in the year 1830, the heart of the fearless era. Nancy Palmer, farmwife, is preparing supper, while Zed Lawson, the hired man, washes up at a pump outside the kitchen door. Goodness, yes. One of these days you're going to drown yourself under that pump? Hot day, ma'am. Very hot day. Well, come on in. Get a clean towel. Thank you, Miss Palmer. You've been over the age, sir. What doors open? Hence, team single swore all plain lately. Looks like Joe Palmer's own hinges set against him, too. You had to die. Oh, I know. It's his bid and it's his business. I'm not one myself to tell anybody what to do with it. Oh, dear. That again. Who's been making fun of him now? Can't a matter of making fun anymore, ma'am. Of course, I wouldn't be bothering you about it, but somehow it's getting ugly lately. Slow over, Zed. It has before. Yeah, maybe. I'd say you were right. It was just the neighbors and respectable people around here, but there's folks in this town ain't so particular how they express themselves. Young fellas, hoodlums they are. They're the ones that have gotten me worried, ma'am. I wouldn't put it past them to do something violent. Well, I guess the sheriff could handle anything like that. Sheriff? Yes. Like it's not he'd be running along behind them, making them on. I tell you, ma'am, I hate to say it, but I look for trouble. Well, don't look for trouble, Zed. Remember the saying, he that looks for, finds it. He's in trouble. Here's the young man who'll be in for some of it. He hasn't a good excuse. Thomas, you know what time it is. Yes, ma'am. I'm a little late. A little late? Thomas, you've been in a fight. Yes, ma'am. But it wasn't my fault. It was Old Bull Wilson. Who's Bull Wilson? As Old Man is Sheriff. But what did he do to you? Well, same thing all the kids do all the time. They make fun of pop. Call them Holy Moses. In time they see me, they start yelling, Holy Moses, Old Red Goat, Holy Moses, Old Red Goat. And I ain't gonna listen to it any longer. They can keep their school. I'm gonna stay home and help pop in the form. Dear, we'll see what your father has to say about that. After supper. Zed, ring the supper bell. All right. Nancy, any woman who can cook like that and look as pretty as a picture, too. Why, she's wasting her talents around Pittsburgh. Oh, Joe. Yes, sir. She ought to be married to the President of the United States and sitting in the White House instead of Joe Palmer's parlor. Hmm. According to what I hear, Andy Jackson has the wife. Oh, I know you, Mr. Palmer. You're just campaigning for more cherry pie. Ah, sweet ambrosia. Succulent fruit of the sun-kissed Massachusetts Hills. Occasionally sun-kissed, that is. Uh, Tommy. Yes, sir? You know, I'll bet if we played our cards right, we might. Mike, mind you, we might have us another pie tomorrow night. For instance, if you were to get up early before school and chop your mother a nice pile... I've been a whole day chopping, Pop. I might as well. I won't be going to school anymore. You won't be doing what? Going to school. Please don't make me pop. I'd rather stay home and help you on the farm. I'm old enough now, as far as learning goes. You can teach me more than I can anyway. Well, that I won't deny, but it's beside the point. Now, uh, what are you running away from, son? You must be blind to ask that question, Joseph, and death. And I'm not running away, Pop. At least, I didn't a day. I hit Bull Wilson's spang in the eye, and he's bigger than I am. Bull Wilson? Oh, would that be the sheriff's loverly son? That's why we call him Bull. I see. And has he been bullying you? Well, you know how fellas are once they get an idea. They can't leave me alone. Always yelling, Holy Moses, a Methuselur, get a shave or something. It's got me crazy, Pop. Please, please don't make me go back anymore. Tommy, I'm sorry you've had to take the brunt of this. I didn't realize how far the thing had gone. You know, there are some people, a lot of people, that just can't stand anybody else that's different from them. They're petty and stupid and cruel, and I hate to give into their small-minded ways. But a beard is not a big enough thing in my life to make you and your mother unhappy. Oh, Joe, do you mean it? Gosh, Pop, you look funny. Yeah, maybe so. Now we've had enough of this serious conclave. How about a little music, man? What would you like, Joseph? The best hymn of them all. Behold, the Christian warrior stands. All right. Listen to them. Nancy, you go down and sell her. I'm going to go get me my shot. No, Joseph, please, come back. Now we'll see. Joseph, don't go out there. Joseph! Where are you? You're some of the earth. Show yourself. Come out into the light, James. The darkness, college, scoundrels, murderers. Joseph, don't! Give me that gun! Be quiet, woman, or fire in the air. Well, they've gone. Every last man's jack up. Joe, Tommy's hands are burned. Badly burned. All right. That settles it, Nancy. They can't force me. I will not submit to force. From now on, it's a matter of principle. I'm going to fight them, Nancy. Fight them every way I can. A few evenings later, Joseph Palmer receives a visit from a delegation of town notables. There's Elder Trast, the chief bestryman, Elder Williams, the local physician, and Elder Wilson, who's also high sheriff Wilson. Well, well, gentlemen, come right in. Hey, Palmer. I declare church and state. Hello, Joe. Hi, Dr. Williams, too. How are your boys' hands? Better, doctor, much better. Thanks to your expert ministry. Well, will you take chairs, gentlemen? Thank you, brother Palmer. Now, to what fortunate circumstance do I owe this solemn visitation? Brother Palmer, we have come. In fact, we have been sent officially. Mind you, sir, officially. We have been sent to wrestle with your pride, sir. The angel of the Lord wrestled with David. It was Jacob, I believe, Elder Trask. But no matter, they were both bearded men. Now, look here, brother Palmer. There's no call for sarcasm. We've come here upon a peaceful mission, sir, as the chosen representatives of this community. I may say the mission is distasteful to me, Palmer. Thank you, doctor. That's a minute. Oh. All right, Sheriff and gentlemen, what's on your mind? Well, it's your beard, man. Your confounded heathen beard. Now, you'll have to get rid of it. Why? Why? Because it's indecent. It's immoral. It's savers of Satan brother and the sign of the goat. It's un-Christian. Brother Trask, have you read the Bible? Why, of course. Have you read Leviticus, brother? Actually, I... Have you read Leviticus chapter 19 verse 27? I've read all of the Bible many times, sir. Many times. All right. What does it say in Leviticus 19, 27? Well, I... I'll tell you. In so many words, it says, ye shall not round the corners of your head. Neither shall thou mar the corners of thy beard. I follow that commandment, brother Trask. And I enjoy so doing. Vanity, brother Vanity? No, elder, just whiskers. Same as David wore in Solomon. And Socrates, the wisest of the Greeks. Yeah, don't forget what happened to Socrates, Palmer. They gave him poison to drink in the end. They always do, you know, one way or another. Well, I'll keep the beard and drain the hemlock cup if necessary, doctor. But as for your department, sheriff, I doubt there's a word in the Constitution that these United States are in the laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts that says I have to scrape my jaws with cold steel once a day. And that's the end of it. Oh, no, that is not the end of it, Palmer, not at all. Our instructions were to ask you peacefully to conform to the customs of a Christian community. And if you refuse, we are instructed to take other steps. What other steps? That, sir, a meeting has been called for Tuesday next at the town hall. And at that meeting, I intend to propose that henceforth no citizen of this community will know you, sir. Nor will he buy the produce of your farm. No. Nor will he sell you his goods. Nor will he deal with you in any wise. And I think I can promise you that my proposition will be passed unanimously. Not if I'm there or it won't be. He won't be admitted, Palmer. And if you attempt to enter fear, then 20 men will buy your way. Once this meeting has begun, sir, the doors will be locked against you. It has been decided once and for all. Now, good night, you, Palmer. Well, I will see you. You and the sheriff go ahead, Elder. I'd like to make one more try with Palmer here. One more wrestle. If he changes his mind, this will be apparent on Tuesday next. Good night. Who's the Socrates? Stupid oaf. Wilson is stupid. Trask is smart and mean. Both of them have power, my friend, and folks will follow their lead. Well, let them do their work. Now, see here, Joe Palmer, get down off your high horse. You're making a fool of yourself, and I'm telling you that straight. What perfectly difference does it make to you whether you wear that thing on your... or your silly chops or not? Three days ago, doctor, no difference, except I rather liked it. Now, all the difference in the world, they've made the difference. They'll do you and Joe. This town is ripe for a scapegoat, and you will be elected. They're children, just children, and they need someone to throw stones at. Haven't I wiped their noses for 20 years? How long do you think a doctor could last in this town if he didn't conform to its childish prejudices? It's about 20 minutes. I'm not good at conforming, Jonathan. Once principle is part of it. That just means you're childish too, no more grown up than they are. In this world, Joe, you simply got to conform or go under. This world, this world. The only world I know about, Joe. But don't tell Elder Trask I said so. Looks to me like you're the heathen in his crowd, doctor. Well, maybe, maybe. But I don't go flaunting my private opinions around like a hairy banner. I conform, serve on the town board, shut up and collect my fees sometimes. Well, that's your way, maybe it's good for you. But my way is different, and I can't help that difference. I'll say my say at that meeting, doctor, if I have to pull down the town hall to get in. Joe Palmer, victim of unreasoning prejudice, persecuted for wearing a beard, lays plans to set his case before his fellow citizens. Assembled now in solemn conclave at the town hall. Well, Jed, here we are. Not a late-accordant schedule. Seems they've opened the meeting with a song sort of getting warmed up to do the dirty work. What are you going to do, Joe? Yep, lock and barred. Demand the rights, of course. Did you bring up that log as I asked you to? That's right there, be the carriage head. Put her in there after dark yesterday. Well, drag her over here at the door. All right. The tie that binds. Open in the name of the Lord God, Jehovah, and the Constitution of the United States. Hell, guess we got to do it, Jed. Got a good hold of her? I got her. Well, we got to bust that door open in one smash, Jed, or we'll look mighty foolish. All set? All set. Let her go. Yes, here I am and here I stay. I'm God's angry man. I stand before you here in search of justice. Not all of you here believe in what you're doing. That can't be true. Well, now, I want you to sing again. All you who know me and all who know my ways and all who wish no evil to a peaceful man sing. Sing with me. Sing, behold, the Christian warrior stands. Hold on, man. Hold on, Joe Palmer. You can't do this. Get your hands off me, Wilson. Come on, all of you. Help me put him out. Stand back, Wilson. Stand back. You're hithin' a robin'. That does it, Palmer. You're under arrest. Yes, you'll be good. You're under arrest. Hell's about time you arrested somebody, Sheriff. What's the charge? Or do you need one? Unprovoked assault, Palmer. Unprovoked assault. Therefore, Joseph Palmer, it is the duty, and I may say the pleasure of this court to levy upon you a fine of $50 plus the costs of this action. And being innocent of any crime, Judge Brigham, I refuse to pay any fine whatsoever. In that case, it becomes necessary for me to direct that you be conveyed to the county jail at Worcester and there, pant and confined, until you choose to accept the judgment of this court. You may be held in solitary confinement at the discretion of the High Sheriff, and that dignitary is hereby so directed. Well, gonna cost Worcester County a lot of money, Judge. If I have to stay in jail until I pay that fine, I stay in jail for life. He has gone up to Badgis and ribboned the high places to weep. Moab shall howl over Nebo and over Medaba and all their heads shall be borne with baldness and every beard cut off. I trust Isaiah means nothing personal but that. Ah, this sells as cold as keepers' nose. Get some of the fingers of the two stiffs to turn a page, it's a good book. Ah, no matter, no it be hard anyhow. For the waters of Nimrin shall be desolate, for the hay is withered away, the grass to stay left. There is no green... Oh, it's Tommy. All right, Tommy. All right, come on in close under the window. That's right. I can't see you, son, but I know you're there. I'd come every day if you'd let me, Pa. I know, son, but we have to be careful. Pa, have I been doing anything more to hurt you? Anything worse, I mean? No, son, no, I'm all right. Now don't go worrying your mother now. Don't you go telling her tales about me. Only, it's time I got out of here, lad, and I think I've figured out a way to do it. You mean escape? There ought to be no chance of that, son, besides I wouldn't give him the satisfaction to try it. No, Tommy, I'm going to make... Listen, do you remember Mr. Rogers? My friend, Clem Rogers, the editor of the Worcester Spy? Sure, Pa, sure, Pa. Now, Tommy, I've written a letter to Mr. Clement Rogers, telling them of the trouble I'm in, and I have reason to think that when he realizes what's going on, he'll do something about it. Now, what I want you to do is to deliver this letter to him. Will you do it, Tommy? Of course I will, Pa. All right, watch out. Here it comes. Oh, and here comes the keeper. Quick, Tommy Scott. Well, if Mr. Palmer ain't taking the air, join the lovely view. Get over here out of my way now. The cell's going to be whitewashed, and it wouldn't bother me a bit if some of it's locked up under your red chin. Oh, for the love of heaven, man, this cell's damp and cold enough now. Why do you have to whitewash the place every other day? Because it stinks, Palmer. It stinks from that there beard. In Clem Rogers of the Worcester Spire, an obscure and struggling journalist, Joe Palmer found a true friend. Rogers played up the story and made Palmer's cause a crusade. And his voice, at first weak and forlorn, gathered volume, found new strength all across the land, until at last all the great and powerful editors in Boston and New York and Philadelphia and on into the new cities of the west, all of them joined the swelling chorus. They demanded justice for the bearded prisoner of Worcester. What they wrote, the message of a great free press found its echo outside the jail at Worcester. Jailing a man for wearing a beard is an infringement of personal liberty. If Joseph Palmer, our fellow citizen, can be persecuted, the word is used deliberately for thus asserting his rights, the rights of a free individual, then God helped the rest of us in the United States. The answer, gentlemen, is no. You mean to say, Joe Palmer, you refuse to get out of here? Can't get out to pay him a fine, can I? Well, not gonna pay him a fine, Sheriff. Here, I sit. No, no, Joe, why can't you be reasonable? And we treated you reasonable and right, Joe. Whitewash and rotten soup for a solid year? If I ever do get out of here. No, that's more like it now. Look, Joe, this thing is very such a ruckus. There's a crowd outside right now and we don't want to bring trouble to people like Justice Brigham and prominent people. In other words, Brother Wilson, you and the courthouse gang are the ones who need the Whitewash now. No, sir, here I stay. Suppose we put you out. Well, now that might be different. If you choose to expel me from captivity by force, I guess I wouldn't resist too hard. But until then, I'm just sitting. Well, Wilson, what are we waiting for? You know what? Bring him change. Well, all right. Let him hold to the chair. We'll carry him out. Come on. No, no, no. Don't overdo it, Sheriff. Remember your heart. Well, well, well, here we go. Transport me to the chariot. Lift me on high in the choose room. The villager will lift it up in the heart of the Covenant. Well, now be careful. Forward guard. Hey, hey, you fools! Open the door there! And fellow citizens, well, you know I don't like to make speeches. But I'll tell you this. After a year in Durant vile, and vile is the word for Durant around here, after a year of captivity, after three long months in solitary, I bear no ill will to the skunks who kept me in jail. Forgive them, oh Lord, but don't let them get elected again next year. I'll tell you this. It's good to breathe the free air of a free country once again. And not to have doubts about that freedom, about how long it's going to last. For a while this winter I was nigh to despair, thinking that evil, bigoted men had made a mockery of my rights, and not only my rights, but everybody's. Well, now, thanks to editor Clem Rogers over in the carriage there. Howdy, Clem. All right, Joe. And thanks to enlightened public opinion, I'm free again. And by all its holy, I still am wearing my beard. And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an important engagement with a girl named Mrs. Joe Palmer over in Fitchburg, and a rendezvous with a beef steak. Followed up by a cherry pie, oh. You were going, why, Mike, Clem? Uh, hop right up in the wagon, Joe. Get up. Come on. Tonight's cavalcade play, Joe Palmer's beard was written by George H. Faulkner. It was based on incidents in the book, Lost Men of American History by Stuart Holbrook, published by Macmillan. Appearing with Mr. Don Levy, where Agnes Young is Mrs. Palmer, and Donald Rose is Tommy. The music for the Dupont cavalcade is composed by Arden Cornwell, conducted by Donald Borey. Next week, cavalcade will present Ruth Hussie, favorite of Hollywood and Broadway, in Troublesome Jane, a story of a lady who caused a lot of trouble and a lot of excitement. With Ruth Hussie will be Kenny Delmar in one of his colorful characterization. This is Ted Pearson, ladies and gentlemen, with his special and urgent message. 40,000 polio victims this year create a national crisis. The money you raise for their care will shortly be exhausted, and they face disaster unless an additional 14,500,000 is raised immediately. Change your dimes and dollars to polio, care of your local post office. Cavalcade of America, directed by John Zoller, came to you this evening from the stage of the Belasco Theatre in New York, and is presented by the Dupont Company of Wilmick and Delaware, makers of better things for better living, through chemistry.