 The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. The Cavalcade of America, in commemorating the 75th anniversary of the founding of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, presents the story of its first president, Henry Berg, prepared by America's distinguished writer of animal life, Albert Payson Turhune. As guest of the Cavalcade of America, Mr. Turhune will tell the story of Henry Berg with the assistance of the Cavalcade players. Our orchestra and the original musical score are under the direction of Don Voorhees. DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents Albert Payson Turhune on the Cavalcade of America. How to bring you? Henry Berg was my friend. I knew him, but I made a claim chiefly because both of us had the same eager interest in the welfare of animals and in getting a square deal for them. First time I met Berg, I was rather small boy. His slender six feet odd of height made him seem to me a giant, taller even than my tall father. I looked far up to him in more ways than one. I remember his pale, classic face with its Greek nose, a sweeping dark moustache, frame of long hair. His almost foppest taste and dress. I remember, too, his friendliness toward a hero worshipping youngster. Even in those far-off days, I'd heard the strange story of Berg's career. It taught me to understand the crusader look and the man's deep-set eyes. I'd like to tell you that story if you'll let me. It's worth your hearing. Berg was a young man. He was Secretary of the United States Legation, St. Petersburg in Russia. One day he was driving through the snowy streets. Both he and his coachmen were bundled in furries. But the man kept wriggling about on the sea. Sege, why are you wriggling so? Oh, it is my fur, Mr. Berg. I cannot keep them in place. I'll wrap them tight about you and stop fidgeting. But I cannot do that, sir. I must leave them open at the neck and shoulder. On a day like this, you'll freeze. No matter. I must keep them thrown back so that people may see the gold lace on my embassy uniform. Why, you're vain, Sege. You want people to know who you are and you want them to respect you because of where you work. I am proud of my employment, sir, but I show my uniform so that people may know who you are and respect you because you're a member of the American Embassy. What's that noise? Oh, the donkey. Being beaten there in the crowd. Why, if he doesn't stop, he'll kill it. No, the donkey will. Stop the horses, Sege. I'm getting out. Get away from here. Hey, you. Stop. Stop by today. Stop feeding that poor little beast. It's my donkey, not yours. Yes, but you've got too big a load on the cart. Can't you see that you mistake some of it off? No. I can only see that you're in my way. Now then, you'd like to put your shoulder to the wheel with the rest. Don't you men agree? You can tell the cart's overloaded. All right, men. We try again. Give a good push on the cart. I'll lay into this stubborn little beast with the whip. Oh, no, you won't. Drop that whip first. I'll drop it across your face. Oh, you will. You there. What are you doing with that whip? I was only beating my donkey. When this man here... This gentleman is my master, secretary at the American Embassy. Oh, I did not know. When you dare lay hands on him, take him off. Idiot! Wolfhead pig! What did this gentleman who was my master want? He told me to stop beating my donkey. He wanted me to unload my cart. Then why aren't you doing it? You there. Help this brainless music unload. And be quick about it. Sergei, I must thank you. You've saved me from considerable unpleasantness. I? Oh, no. As I tried to tell you, sir, in Russia it is not the man. I did not save you. It was the gold lace. In St. Petersburg, his coachman's gold lace was brought into use for this. The best use that could be made of it. Gradually, Berg began to build up in his mind a new idea. When he got back to New York, he went to work, forming a society for the prevention of cruelty to animals. At first, it was desperately slow work. As I can recall him, I can well imagine how he must have thrown himself into it with all the crusading energy and zeal that was a driving power of his life. At last, on the snowy evening of February 8, 1866, he was able to call a public meeting at Clinton Hall in New York City. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to introduce the chairman of this meeting, the Honorable John T. Hoffman, Mayor of New York. Thank you. Fellow citizens, I should like to express my appreciation to you for coming here in the name of a most worthy cause, a movement that has my strongest recommendation and one I am sure you will endorse after hearing our principal speaker this evening. I present Henry Berg. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a proposal in the name of humanity. The laws of this state should prosecute those who persecute our poor dumb brutes. I want to try to compel justice to the lower animals. Now I have taken careful survey of all the personal ridicule this will entail for me, but it's necessary for me to forget myself completely for this is a cause that advocates a solemn recognition of that greatest attribute of the almighty ruler of the universe, mercy, which if suspended in our own case would leave us overwhelmed and destroyed. And so tonight I am asking you to sign the petition which my friend Mayor Hoffman holds in his hand, a declaration of the rights of animals who cannot speak for themselves. Will you sign it? Not for me, but for the spirit of humanity. Ladies and gentlemen, though copies of this petition will be circulated among you, I want you to know of one or two other New Yorkers besides myself who have already signed it. Horace Greeley, Peter Cooper, John Jacob Astor, CVS Roosevelt, A.T. Stewart, Henry W. Of the American society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, a wave of enthusiasm swept the press and the public. All at once Henry Berg was a national figure, a crusading knight in shining armor. The ASPCA was duly chartered at Albany, where Henry Berg elected unanimously as its president. But it's one thing to enact a law and quite another thing to enforce it. It was a one-man job and a thankless overtime job at that. He had almost no funds to carry on his gigantic task, no efficient helpers, no authority to arrest or prosecute. It's like a legal authority greatly hampered Berg in his work. One day he decided to talk to Mayor Hoffman about it. He met him on the steps of the city hall. Good afternoon, Mayor. Good afternoon, Mayor. Oh, good day, Berg. If you have a minute, there's something that I'd like to talk to you about. Oh, certainly. Want to come in the office? Oh, I'll just be a minute, Mr. Mayor. I need your help for the society. Help? Well, you tell me, Berg, you're coming along fine. What more is there to do? Well, you see, Mayor, what I need is police power. Police power is for the society and myself. Power to prosecute in the courts for cruelty to animals. The way it is now, I have to use methods I don't entirely approve of to get results. Well, whether you do or not, you're getting them. I should say handling these affairs very well. But not always the legal way. Why, those half-wit clods. Oh, what's the matter? Put that card out there. Look at the way they've got those sheep thrust up. Wait, Berg, you can't do anything about it here. There you go. Berg, come back here. Stop it, I say. Oh, you don't like us singing. Well, there's some to do and some to do. Stop, I tell you. Hold up, Jim, hold up. Here, the gentlemen don't care about the sound of your voice. No, no, I want you to stop your car. Whoa, now, Tessie, hold here. Would you be wanted to take a bit of a ride with us, sir? Certainly not. You've got too much of a load already. Who says I've got too much of a load? Yes, it you may see. It's more likely yourself, sir, that's got too much of a load on. Good, you know, they ask to house you under. You gargle the few too many of them fancy drinks they charge. It's not that you fool. You've got a cart full of sheep. That we have? They're feet tied together. They are. They're head butting together. They're in torment. Are they really no? Yes, they are. Well, you can see the blood streaming down their face. Get down and untie them. Don't you do it, Tessie. Get down there and make you do it. And now that's something they wouldn't avoid. Not with that $25 top hat and all them point crores on it. They might get a wee bit shy. All right, then untie those sheep immediately. They're all right the way they are. Indeed they are. I warn you, if you force me to, I'll knock your two heads together. Well, come on and try it. Well, listen to them now, Jim. Ain't he terrible? Let me cut it. She's left me entirely. Hold on, Jim. There's no sheep when I get to them. There you go. What do you think of this? All right, Mr. Mayor. All right, now you two untie those sheep. All right. You see, Mayor Hoffman, as I said, my methods aren't always strictly legal. They're what I need is police power. Very well, Berg. I'll see that you get the power that you need. To stop by legal means, the cruelty of animals that was then rampant in New York, the very first year of society's existence, 1866, he prosecuted 66 cases. Next year he prosecuted 200. Nearly all of these were tracked down and carried to conviction by Berg himself. He was working single-handed and with little money. The remains of his own fortune were spent lavishly, but that wasn't enough. If you knew Henry Berg, you could tell by his worried look there was more and much more he needed. And then, in 1871, a cranky, miserly old fur trader laid grievously ill in St. Vincent's Hospital in New York. His name was Louis Bonard. One day he sent for Henry Berg. You called me, Mr. Bonard? Yes, yes, of course. Fixed my pillow. Oh, but you know what the doctor said. You know what I said to the doctor? I said the same to you. Fixed my pillow. Is that the way you... There now. Is that better? It will do. I'm expecting a visitor nurse at 10 o'clock. There's almost that now. When he comes, I want you to clear out. I've got business to talk with him. Private business. Come in. How do you go out, out, out? Oh, I beg your pardon. No, no, no, not you, not you. Get out, get out. You won't get tired or excited. I will if you don't get out. Fish and water, calm or large. Thank you. I'm glad of this opportunity to meet you, Mr. Bonard. For a long time, I've wanted to talk with you. You see, Mr. Berg, I have been reading about you. What Bennett has been writing in his Herald newspaper, he does not think too well of you or your work. Yes, I know. But somehow this cause is bigger than Mr. Bennett or myself. A white man with a pencil can be meaner than a red man with a tomahawk. Well, he can say whatever he likes about me, but it's unfair for him to attack our cause. My friend, there's always abuse for any cause. Yes, especially when we're powerless, when we need all the help that we can get. But I know I have a good fight here and as far as I'm concerned, I'd rather lose it than win any other. Mr. Berg, I shall help you win it. That's why I wrote you to come here so I could tell you. You see, my friend, I have not chased the dollar all these years without catching him now and then. Mon amie, I am a lonely man. Since I was a child, I have been kicked around like a dog. So, my money will go to the dogs. I do not really joke. I have just made my will. All I have is bequeathed to your society. You? Mr. Bernal, you don't know what that means to me. I wish there were words enough to thank you. Do not thank me. I do not do this for love, but for hate. Men have treated me like an animal all my life. Now, I die alone, like an animal. So, other animals shall have my money. Henry Berg assumed a miserly old hermit saved only a half-handful of money, but when Bonar's will was read, he found he'd bequeathed to the ASPCA about $100,000 in cash, and surprisingly enough, a trunk full of gold watches, another jewelry. The corner was turned. For those new funds, Berg was able to extend his work to a point far beyond anything he dared to hope. All the old people, reading a Bonar's request, real goodly sums to the society, contributions came pouring in from every side. From then on, continuation of the work in an ever-expanding manner was assured. But that expansion took some surprising turns. For instance, one day, Mrs. Heather Angel Wheeler, a social worker, came to Berg's office in keen distress. She begged his help in protecting a little girl, Mary Ellen by name, from the horrible ill treatment meted out to her by her foster parents. Berg's hot sympathies were roused away. And with Elbage T. Gary, he took a case before Justice Lawrence at the Supreme Court. Mr. Gary, have you any further witnesses you wish to call? No, Judge Lawrence, but if your honor pleases, I would like to recall Mrs. Wheeler. You may proceed. I ask Mrs. Heather Angel Wheeler to take a stand. Mrs. Wheeler, you said before that you were a social worker. Yes, sir. Then you had no personal motive, as has been suggested, in interfering with the treatment this child was receiving. Indeed not. If her cries had not interfered with my reading aloud, I'd never have known she existed. You mean you discovered the condition of this child accidentally? Yes, I do. I was trying to read the Bible to an old lady who was ill and confined to a tenement room, but she couldn't hear me for the child's cries of agony next door. I went in there and I saw Mary Ellen as you see her now. Seeing her like this, I couldn't help but remonstrate with this man and woman. Did it? Did either of them deny the cruelty? No, sir. They told me to go mind my own business. They said the child belonged to them and they could do what they liked with her. They said the law permits parents to treat a child as they choose. Thank you. That is all. Unless the opposing council would like to further cross-examine. No. You may step down. I would next like to call the child. All right, Jack. On what grounds, Mr. Wheeler? The child is emotionally upset. So much so, she's hardly coherent. Her testimony would be worthless. I am not calling Mary Ellen for the testimony of her words but for the mute testimony of her body. Very well. You may do so. And bring the child forward to the bench. Unwrap the blanket. Yes, your honor. Your honor, I wish you to observe here the proof of cruelty. These welts across the back made with a lash. The scars on the arms and legs. This gash over the left eye and down the cheek made with a pair of shears. By the woman who calls herself the child's mother. Mr. Wheelock, have you any witnesses that will disprove this testimony? No, your honor. Then you admit these charges? Well, we do not contest them. It's not necessary. My worthy opponent, Mr. Gary, has introduced not one quits of evidence that my clients are not this child's parents. They are foster parents, I can see. But as such, they are acting in local parentheses. And in the eyes of the law have those same prerogatives of supervision and discipline as natural parents. The common law holds that the parent is the sole judge of the type of punishment and the amount that he shall administer to his child. And there is no statutory law which supersedes. Therefore, certain in my knowledge that the law definitely and unequivocally upholds my clients. And their actions, I ask that this case be dismissed and the charges withdraw. If your honor pleases. Yes, Mr. Berg. You are associate counsel with Mr. Gary? I am. And if I may reply? So I proceed. Thank you, your honor. Yes, we know. It's all too true. There is no law on our statute books to prevent a parent from abusing its adopted child. It was also true at one time that there was no law to prevent a man from splitting his neighbor's skull with a club. There are some who will say that that was in a primitive world that we've progressed. If we have, I ask them to regard Mary Ellen. Your honor, there is a law on our statute books which provides punishment for cruelty to animals. I ask you to invoke that law for if the human race has no law that protects its own offspring, then I invoke the law that protects dumb beasts. I ask this court to declare Mary Ellen an animal. Order. If there is no justice for the child as a human being, then she shall at least have the legal rights of a cur in the streets and sentence will be imposed on her persecutors. The court places its protection around this child. Mary Ellen is an animal. If Henry Berg were alive today, he could see that his labors were more than worthwhile. American society for the conventional cruelty to animals, society for the conventional cruelty to children, continue his great humane work. Continue it as Henry Berg would have done until the last lash of cruelty had been struck. Peace to his gallant soul. Cavalcade players for their performance of the story of a great American humanitarian, Henry Berg, who devoted his life and fortune to those who could not help themselves. And now DuPont brings you news of chemistry at work in our world. In the old Greek myth, Pandora opened a box from which man's ills escaped into the world in a plague of buzzing, ugly insects. A real Pandora's box was opened near Medford, Massachusetts some 60 years ago by a French professor of mathematics. He was trying to raise silkworms. The New England climate was too much for them, so he sent to France for a box of gypsy moths. He had an idea he might be able to cross them with silkworm moths and thus produce hardy silkworms. The box of gypsy moths arrived and he put it out in his backyard. In the night, a storm came up. The wind tore the cover off the fateful little Pandora's box out in the backyard. Off into the black angry night fluttered the gypsy moths. By 1900, only 20 years later, descendants of those gypsies had eaten virtually every leaf of every tree for 300 square miles around Boston. We have more than 80,000 kinds of insects in the United States. One acre of meadowland, a single acre, can supply a home on the average for 15 million insects. And many of these are implacable enemies of man. One tenth of all the food we raise goes to feed them. $200 million a year are spent in fighting them. Grasshoppers cost us $25 million. Termites, 40. Corn earworms, 100 million. The bowl weevil, $180 million. Our total loss each year from insects amounts to $3 billion. What weapon do we have against the army worms that march over the west in hordes, wriggling across highways from one field to another in a slippery mass? Against clouds of grasshoppers, 2,000 feet up, sailing 500 miles on the wind. Against coddling moths responsible for wormy apples that spread west from Massachusetts in 1819 and reached California in 1874, infesting the entire continent in 55 years. What weapon? We have chemistry. Today an entire DuPont laboratory, the pest control laboratory at Wilmington, Delaware is given over to the search for safer, more effective, less costly insecticides. Lead arsenate developed to fight the gypsy moth, today fights the coddling moth. DuTox insecticide controls the Mexican bean beetle. Special chemicals make war on chewing and sucking insects. DuPont calcium arsenate fights the bowl weevil. Arsenical baits fight the army worm. Loro insecticide has specific uses in orchards and greenhouses. DuPont chemicals strengthen household insect sprays, freeing the United States from complete dependence on imported perithrum. DuPont Japanese beetle spray keeps the devastating beetles off the gardener's plants, instead of poisoning them after the plants are half destroyed. Insecticides are another contribution of the DuPont chemist. Who brings us better things for better living through chemistry. And now, Ted Joyatt of the Cavalcade Players to tell you about next week's program. Next week, the Cavalcade of America presents the brilliant star of the American screen, Madeleine Carroll. In our play, The Heart and the Fountain, Miss Carroll will appear with the Cavalcade players in the role of Margaret Fuller, whose astonishing career in American journalism reached its climax when she became our nation's first woman foreign correspondent. We hope you'll join us next week at this same time when we present Madeleine Carroll on the Cavalcade of America. On the Cavalcade of America, your announcer is Clayton Collier, sending best wishes from DuPont. This is the National Broadcasting Company.