 The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont. This evening the DuPont Cavalcade presents the story of Samuel Flater, the father of American manufacturers, whose amazing memory was responsible for the beginning of the textile industry in New England and whose efforts helped largely in the development of cotton growing in the south. This tale is especially appropriate since our broadcast comes in the middle of National Cotton Week. At the close of our program, we bring you a story of chemistry about the astonishing number of useful things that the DuPont chemist makes from cotton. What has cotton to do with the books on your library shelf, with your fountain pen, with your automobile, or with your camera? Listen to the story of chemistry following our drama and you'll discover how cotton illustrates the DuPont pledge better things for better living through chemistry. Before announcing our overture, we pay tribute to an industry that was the pioneer user of a chemical product now widely used to protect your health. First to recognize the great sanitary advantages of cellophane cellulose film were the candy makers. This month the National Confectioners Association is bringing this message to all Americans. Candy is delicious food, enjoy some every day. And now Don Voorhees and his DuPont cavalcade orchestra will play George Gershwin's last song, Love Walks In, from the Golden Polly. The DuPont cavalcade moves forward. Daniel Slater was born in Belver, Derbyshire, England, June 9th, 1768. At an early age he showed a remarkable interest in machinery and at his father's death in 1782 he was apprenticed to Jedediah Strutt, who with Richard Arkwright owned a large cotton mill. The boy proved to be such an apt apprentice that long before his term was over, he had been appointed foreman. It is a Sunday morning, late in 1789, a Sabbath silence has fallen over the great cotton mill of Arkwright and Strutt. Before a complicated spinning, Jenny stands Samuel Slater, now a young man of 21. As he examines the machine intently, a door opens behind him and Mr. Strutt steps into the room. Samuel! Oh, why Mr. Strutt, you startled me. Yes, I see. Tell me, Samuel, what are you doing here on Sunday when the mill is closed? Looking at the machines? God damn it, Samuel, don't you see enough of them during the week without coming here on Sunday just to look at them? Well, yes, in a way, but I'm busy then, and so are they, and there's no chance to memorize them. Memorize them? That sounds like a dreadful waste of time. Why should you want to memorize crop machinery, especially on your day of rest? I may want to build some of my own someday. But you don't have to build them from memory, you can get drawings, plans. If I build my plant in England? Yes. Why, where else would you build a textile plant? I don't know, but it seems to me that there are too many mills in England already. I thought it might be wise to build where there's a chance for growth. But you can't! You're a skilled mechanic, and as such you can't leave England. Neither now nor ever. The law definitely forbids any mechanics, machinists, or other workers and manufacturers to leave England. No machinery can go either or even any drawings of machines. It is a most unjust law. England has her machines? Why shouldn't other nations? Because England's leadership in industry depends upon it. As long as England makes the textiles of the world, she'll prosper, and there'll be work for every mill that can be built. Now, you'd better stay and share in her prosperity. Perhaps you're right, but anyway, I'd like to study the machines. Though Mr. Struth soon forgot this conversation, Samuel did not forget his plan. As the end of his seven-year apprenticeship approached, he grew quieter and quieter, confiding in no one, spending more and more of his meager allotment of spare time among the machines in a textile mill. After his apprenticeship ended, Samuel remained from July to September to supervise Struth's mill and the creation of new works. But when this task was completed, he packed his things and slipped off to London. Not even his mother was told where he was going. On a pier in London beside the gangway of a ship, two British customs officials stand talking. Well, another ten minutes and they'll be casting off and we can go home. Well, I'd be glad of that. Some monotonous and thankless job examining baggage and passengers on the chance we might find some smuggled goods, or a mill worker going somewhere he shouldn't. I can't see why a mill worker should want to leave England where we have plenty of factories for him to work in and go to some other country where there's not a one. No, no, no, I don't think they do. Four years of this work, I haven't caught one. No, but there are some for all that. By Daniel's quarter mill worker yesterday and put him in a cell to cool. Just last week, they found a power loom labeled as a dozen powers all set to sail to Pennsylvania. Say, Pennsylvania has offered a bonus of a hundred pounds for a carding machine. Well, will you look what's coming here? Country bumpkins reaching by his clothes. Is that the boat from New York town? It is, and who are you? I'm Samuel Slater, sir, from Belford, Derbyshire. And you're going on that ship? Yes, sir. At once, sir, if I may. Well, you may, and then again you may not. Mr. Rogers, would you search his bags? All right, lad, let me have them. Must he look through all my things? He must. If you're sick, I hope there's nothing there which shouldn't be. What sort of things may I ask? I hope I'm not doing anything wrong. Smuggled goods and plans and things like that. And pictures of, well, jennies and such. Anything like that. Oh, no, sir. I have a drawing of my mother there, but her name isn't Jenny. And the only plans I have are in my head. Did you hear that, Rogers? He's got plans in his head and a picture of his mother and he hopes he isn't breaking the law. Must you spread my things around like that? Yes, and I must lift the lighting too. Like this. You spoil my bags and my clothes. What are you searching for? Help us if you must know. Plans of mill machinery. Mill machinery? Well, you won't find any there, mister. Are you sure? It is almost, I can tell you that. But the regulations say you have to search his clothes. Well, there's nothing in his bags. Here, here, stand still. Put some of the boot, Miss Sarah. Can't help it. You can't go till you're searched. Sorry, but I have to look inside the lining. There's nothing here. Nothing in the pockets either. All right, young man. You may go when you've answered one more question. Why are you going to America? To seek my fortune, sir. Make wilderness. Better stay and seek your fortune here. Oh, it's too late, sir. I'm going to America. There'll be another fortune there, I'm sure. The America to which Slater was going was largely an agricultural nation. And there were great possibilities for developing industry. Particularly in the textile industry, there was a lack of machinery. After 66 monotonous days at sea, the ship bearing Slater at last reached New York. There, the young textile worker remained for some weeks getting his bearings and replenishing his meager supply of money by doing what work he could get. One day, as he is leaving his boarding house, he is greeted by a sea captain with whom he has struck up an acquaintance. Well, Slater, what news? How are your plans progressing? Poorly, Captain. Poorly. I'm getting discouraged. No word from Pennsylvania? None. They can't be very anxious to get hold of cotton machinery. Why, they offered a grant of 100 pounds to the inventor of a carding machine. I saw it in the paper. Oh, I saw it too. And I wrote. But they've ignored my letter. Well, do you really think you can give them what they want? Oh, I'm certain of it. But they don't give me a chance to show what I can do. What good is my knowledge? Well, Pennsylvania isn't the only state that needs machinery. All New England is interested in milling. The last time I was in Rhode Island, I met an old Quaker who spoke of the possibilities of cotton manufacture. His name is, uh, Moses Brown. You might write him about your plan. There's a chance he might be able to advise you. Moses Brown, you see his name? Yes, in Providence, Rhode Island. Well, thank you, Captain. I'll write him by the next post. Moses Brown, on receiving Slater's letter, invited him to come to Providence. And he was so much impressed with the young man's story that he advanced the money for Slater to build some cotton machinery. This was Slater's long-awaited opportunity. After several months, working entirely for memory, Slater built a cotton-carding machine. Moses Brown and his son, Smith Brown, are critically examining the strange mechanism. I hope this machine of Slater's works. Oh, so do I. I'd be fortunate if it does. He certainly seems confident. He's worked at it as though he had the best engineering plans in the world to go by. Dimension? Measurement? He supplied them all with hardly a minute's hesitation. That's what worries me. He's been too confident. Not that I mistrust him for a minute, but it just doesn't seem possible for a young man. No, no, you're right. It doesn't. And I'm frank to say it worries me. But it's too late to doubt him now. Well, we'll soon know whether or not he can do the things he claimed. So he tried out today. If only it will work, thee and I will have a share in building a textile industry here in America. Ah, good morning, gentlemen. Well, how do you like the machine? Very interesting, friends, Slater. Is it really ready for a trial? It ought to be. Though it'll doubtless need a bit of adjusting to bring it to its full efficiency. When may we see it work? I had once, if you care to. I was planning to try it out in private first, but that's not really necessary. Are you sure it will do the work? Of course. We'll try it. That's the surest test. Oh, uh, Hopkins. Yes, sir, you're calling me? Yes. Come in here, please. And bring a lap of cotton with you. Yeah, it certainly seems convincing enough. I'll be patient. We'll see. Good morning, Hopkins. Good morning, Mr. Brown. Which one of you gentlemen was wishing to see me? I wanted your Hopkins. Give me the cotton. Now, uh, take hold of this handle on the iron wheel and keep the wheel turning until I say stop. Like this, sir? Yes, that's it. Now, gentlemen, we shall see the first real textile machinery in America at work. I shall feed the cotton in between the two rollers and, presently, it will come out neatly combed with the fibers in parallel rows, ready to be spun in the yarn. It's turned an awful hard, sir. Well, it shouldn't be. Keep turning, Hopkins. Cotton fibers haven't come out yet. Wait, there are some. But they're all sniled up. Quick, let me see. Hey, stop! Stop it, Hopkins! Yeah, there's something wrong. That's hard work. Let me look into this machine. Why, the cotton's all tangled up among the teeth. The machine didn't work right. There's something wrong. So I see, Mr. Slater. But I'm sure it isn't serious, Mr. Brown. Just bear with me a little longer. I'll find the trouble and fix it. It's going to work. I know it is. Oh, I see. The teeth are too loosely set in a socket. I'll adjust them. All right, Mr. Slater. We've invested a good deal in this venture of yours, and I suppose we can afford to wait a little longer. Since you haven't any plans, we'll have to rely on your memory of a machine you used to know. But for all our sakes, I hope it works next time. Daniel Slater was not discouraged by his first failure. With the defect corrected, the machine worked at last. And Moses Brown gladly backed Slater in the building of other textile machines. Thus was born the great American textile industry. Three years go by. Though at 24, Samuel Slater is a prosperous young businessman, he is not content to rest on his laurel. It is Sunday, and we find him walking along beside the Pawtucket River north of Providence. By his side walks Hannah Wilkinson, his young wife. Just a little farther, Hannah, and we'll be there. That is this great surprise you've brought me way out here to see. Oh, be patient. You'll find out. There. There it is ahead. You mean that building there? Well, don't you see what kind of building it is? Looks like a flower mill to me. It has a water field. Well, can you read what it says up above the door? It says, Almy Brown and Slater Cotton Textiles. A textile mill built way out here. And with your name on it. That's right. Oh, but Samuel, you didn't tell me you were going into partnership. You were going to build a mill. I wanted to surprise you, dear. Won't you come in? I want to show you the inside of a new and better type of cotton mill. It isn't quite complete. There isn't any luck yet for the door, but won't you step in anyway? Thank you. Well, it's full of machinery. Of course, textile machinery. But I still don't see why you built a mill way out here, away from town. You have so far to bring your cotton. It's easier to transport cotton than water power. Have you ever noticed how hard the people have to work who turn the hand machines in Mr. Brown's plant in town? Well, we've done away with that. You mean you use the water wheel to turn the machine instead of having it done by hand? That's it, exactly. This is, or rather in a week or two it will be, the first water power textile plant in the United States. Step over here, Hannah. I'll show you how it works. First, I pull this lever to release the water wheel. It really works. That's just the water wheel turning. Now I throw this lever. And the carding machines begin to turn. Watch it, darling. But be careful now. I shouldn't want you to get so near you'll be hurt. Well, it's wonderful, Samuel. The workers just stand here and feed the cotton in. Exactly. I'm very proud of it, my dear. I'm proud of you, Samuel. Not long afterward, the Almay Brown and Slater Mill was open and proved to be a great success. About it grew up the thriving town of Pawtucket, Rhode Island. Other mills followed in rapid order and the name of Samuel Slater became inseparably linked with the growth of Industrial New England. One day, Samuel returns home from the mill. Is that you, Samuel? Yes, dear. Look at this, will you? What do you think it is? Well, it looks like raw cotton. Has the twist and everything, but it can't be cotton. The fibers are too long. It is, though. A new kind of cotton. Comes from the Surinam, Dutch Vienna. We've been experimenting with it at the mill. Long-fibered cotton. Let me feel it, will you? For sure. What are you going to use it for? Oh, we're not quite sure. We may try to weave it into a cloth for clothing. So far, it's more of a curiosity than anything else. Samuel, I think these fibers should be spun into good, strong sewing threads. Cotton sewing threads? Yes. Do you think it would have nearly the strength of linen thread? I'd like to try it. Here. Let me put the fibers on the spinning wheel. Certainly. Samuel, I've never felt that linen thread long enough. And this thread might be a little better. Or quite a little worse. Nobody ever heard of cotton thread for sewing. Nobody yet. There. This isn't very much, but it'll have to do. Hand me those strips of homespun on the table, will you, dear? All right. These? Yes. There. Thank you. What are you doing now? Showing the two strips together? Yes. With the cotton thread. Oh, but why? You'll see. There. Oh. Now what are you going to do? Now I'm going to sew this third piece on the strip with linen thread. There. Like this. When I'm through, I want you to take hold of the two ends of the sewed together strip and pull. Pull? Yes. Pull until one of the seams rips apart. Oh. We'll see which thread is the stronger. The linen will be. We'll see. Here. Take the strip and pull. All right. Still holding together. There goes your cotton thread. Oh, dear, I thought... Wait. No. It's the linen thread that gave way. The cotton thread is stronger. Hannah, dearest, I think you've made a discovery. Hannah Wilkinson Slater had indeed made a discovery. A discovery that strong sewing thread could be spun from long fiber cotton. It was her spinning wheel experiment which laid the basis for the great cotton thread industry today. Slater's business grew to such an extent that he sent for his brother John to assist him. And together they established the manufacturing village of Slater'sville, Rhode Island in 1806. But as the years went on, Daniel Slater found himself faced with a new problem. It's the year 1826. He is now 58 years old. We find him talking with his brother John. John, I'm not satisfied. With all your mills working some, I don't see what you have to complain of. The United States is growing, John. We can't turn our goods fast enough to meet the demand. Motor wheels are all right, but they're too slow. Faster than hand power, but not fast enough. John, I've been thinking about this for some time. We've seen steamboats without distant sailing ships. And steam engines must eventually take the place of a stagecoach. What would you say to a textile mill driven by steam? You know what? That sounds possible. John, it's our solution. I've weighed the pros and cons for many weeks before I've spoken of it. I've even made some rough climbs, and I know I'm on the right track. With a textile mill driven by steam, we'll lead the world. You're right, son. And this time we must protect ourselves. We must see to it that no one takes our ideas. When I said we, John, I wasn't thinking of the Slaters alone. I meant America. When I came to this country, I borrowed the plans from the original machine. I memorized them, if you remember. So I can't complain if others borrow from me. American industry, John, is bigger than any individual. And if I'm not mistaken, this steam-driven mill is going to start a new manufacturing age in our country. In 1827, the first mill in the United States to use steam for its power was built and opened by Samuel Slater and his assistant at Providence, Rhode Island. A pioneer in American textile work, a man of vision, we salute Samuel Slater, justly called father of American manufacturers as a far-seeing leader in the cavalcade of America. This week is National Cotton Week, and that suggests a question. What first pops into your mind when you hear the word cotton? Like most people, you probably think of dresses, shirts, socks, and other articles woven from cotton thread. But that's not how the chemist thinks of cotton. In his world, cotton stands for a host of articles having no resemblance whatever to the fight-sluffy stuff that grows in our Southland. Thanks to chemical research, cotton now goes to market in 10,000 different forms. One of chemistry's favorite raw materials is cotton linters, the short fibers looking like fuzz that remain after the longer, staple cotton is removed from the seeds for spinning in the thread. Until the chemist developed uses for linters, virtually no market existed for this form of cotton. Now linters provide the South with an important source of extra revenue. As examples of chemical products that are virtually all cotton, we may cite DuPont fabricoid coated products used for upholstery, book binding, luggage, and women's handbags, and DuPont tontine washable window shade material. From one 500-pound bale of cotton linters, for example, DuPont chemist produced coating for enough fabricoid to bind more than 100,000 books, which is a greater number of volumes than most public libraries have. The DuPont chemist also uses cotton linters to make plastics, those colorful and tremendously useful materials that go into a thousand and one articles from safety glass to toiletware, from slide fasteners to washable playing cards. When you brush your teeth tonight, take a look at your toothbrush handle. That's a plastic. Everyone has heard of durable quick-drying DuCo finish, the DuPont product that revolutionized the production of automobiles to say nothing of its uses in the home. Through chemistry, one bale of cotton is turned into enough DuCo to finish 294 cars. The idea that led to DuCo was brought to light by DuPont chemist while carrying on research to improve photographic film, because that too is made from cotton. The DuPont chemist also transforms cotton linters into the acetate rayon yarn trademark Acille and obtains enough from one bale to make fabric for more than 1400 lovely rayon dresses. This is by no means all of the story, for we have not mentioned such contributions as the chemicals that protect the cotton crop against insect enemies or the fast dyes that make cotton goods so practical and attractive. But in this story of cotton and what research is doing with it and for it, we see how the DuPont company joins hands with the Southern farmer, indeed with everyone who uses or makes a living from cotton to make good the DuPont pledge better things for better living through chemistry. King Cole, a story of those pioneers whose efforts led to the development of the American coal industry, will be the subject of our broadcast when next week at the same time DuPont again presents The Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting Center.