 Cavalcade of America, starring Tarone Power. The DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America. And here's our star, Tarone Power. Good evening. After so many months in Europe, it's a wonderful feeling to be back in the United States. I'm happy to make my first appearance since my return on the Cavalcade of America. Tonight's play is called Strike a Blow for Liberty. In it, I play the part of Thomas 40. Strike a Blow for Liberty, starring Tarone Power as Thomas 40. In 1781, Cornwallis has just surrendered at Yorktown, and a great American victory has been won. And in New York, in a small barren room, a young man bends over his writing tablet, his pen in hand. I, Captain Thomas 40, 26 years old and a free American, do speak to my descendants. My sons to be, God grant that this record of my experiences in the war for independence, empower you with courage to speak out for the right when your hour of decision arrives, as arrive it must. The hour of decision. I, that's the moment that tears a man's heart. I arrived for me on a bitter cold day in the year 1778, time of the British occupation of New York. I was a printer then, keeping my opinions to myself and holding on to my snug little birth in the shop of the Loyalist Gazette. As I stood beside the press this day, a stick of type in my hand, old asymmetric, the pressman caught my eye. Tom, heard the news? What news is that, Acer? There you are. God ridd it. A traveler from Philadelphia, bringing the newest intelligence, reports General Washington's winter camp at Valley Forge to be no more than a disorganized rabble. He doubts that this so-called army could at the present time muster a full regiment. The smallpox has been rife and there have been numerous desertions amounting to an exodus. Who wrote this? Our esteemed employer, Mr. Elijah Ribbington Esquire. I don't believe a word of this Tory rock. Well, I know that. Acer, my stomach crawls up into my throat when I even think of setting it in type. If you don't, somebody else will at your wages. You know what I mean, boy? I know. They're starving to death here in New York and I have a good job and I'd better keep my mouth shut. Correct. But what bothers me is not the British so much. They came here to fight and they'll get licked and then they'll go home. But it's our own disloyal American. These renegade Tories. Not so loud, boy. Like Ribbington and that Colonel Delancey. Don't be a fool. Ordinary people like us don't have to take sides. It's not our war. My advice is stay out of it and you'll stay healthy. Mr. Ribbington, good afternoon. Good afternoon, sir. Tom. Good afternoon, sir. It's cold. There's one good thing to be said for this weather. General Washington minds it more than I do. Oh, that's correct. I'll take my oath on that, sir. My winter's end. His rabble will have frozen to death and the war will be over. And those on the wrong side of the fence will be suitably dealt with. Hey, Tom. Oh, yes, sir. But why mention that to me? It was just a thought. Oh, yes. Now, Tom, I want you to take this Valley Forge intelligence to Francis Tavern. You will deliver it to Colonel Delancey. He'll be very pleased, I'm sure. You are acquainted with Colonel Delancey, my boy? I've heard of his exploits, sir. And you do not approve. What a pity. Well, how could anyone approve of a renegade who makes war on his own countrymen and defenseless women and children burning down their farms up there in Westchester while their husbands are away fighting? Why, yes? Yes, Thomas. Go on. I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to. You amazed me, my boy. Such a pity. No, Tom didn't mean it, sir. He's a good boy, Tommy. Well, I should hope so. Hand me that pen, Tom. I wish to accompany this article with a note to the Colonel. Oh, yes, sir. Here you are, sir. Thank you. Mr. Rivington, sir, I hope you didn't misunderstand that it is... Of course not, of course not, my boy. Particularly when one considers that you were born up there in Westchester County where Colonel Delancey and his men have been operating. Yes, sir. Yes, sir, that's it, sir. No, we'll say no more about it. There you are, Tom. The article and the note. France's tavern. And my compliments to Colonel Delancey. Trudging through the snow-covered streets with the cold whistling around my ears, I kept thinking, how long? How long can I go on saying one thing and thinking another? How long can I go on hating myself? Inside Mr. Francis' tavern, I found Colonel Delancey. I gave him the article and the note. Well, well... If there's no answer, Colonel, I'd best be getting back... Oh, heart? No, my boy. First you must fortify yourself. Have a seat, sir. What'll you drink? Biscayre? Punch? Oh, thank you. I'll have some of your port wine, if I may. Oh, pleasure, sir. Your health, sir? Thank you, Colonel. And now, sir, do you know what this interesting note you were kind enough to deliver to me says? No, sir, I do not. It's very simple and eloquent. It says, arrest this man. Mr. Thomas Forte, you may consider yourself under arrest. Here's the new prisoner's sergeant. Bring him in. Aye, sir. Come along, Mr. Forte, and look to it now. All right, stand aside, Corporal. Aye, sir. And you, come closer to the light, Mr. Forte. I'm a bit nearsighted, and I wish to look at your face. Oh, is this all right, Sergeant? Perfect. Now, don't move. Now, that's for nothing. Now, pick yourself off the floor and come back here. You know who I am, Mr. Forte? No. No, what? No, sir. Now, that's better. All nice and plubby-like. Well, Mr. Forte, my name is Sergeant O'Keefe. I am in charge of this prison. Any objection? No, sir. I'm pleased to hear it. What are you here for? I don't know, sir. Sergeant Colonel Delancey wants Mr. Forte taken on a escorted tour of your premises. He wants him to see everything, and then he wants to talk to him. Everything? Well, well, it'll be a pleasure. Come along, Mr. Forte. And so I was privileged to take an escorted tour of the ill-famed Tory prison in New York, Sugar House, that vialist of all jails on the American continent. We stepped over groaning and dying men, human skeletons who fought among themselves for a scant few inches of space to lay their exhausted bodies on the floor. I saw the catacombs and the interrogation rooms where men were tortured until they confessed to crimes they had never committed. And finally, I was taken into the whipping room. Sixty-seven! Sixty-eight! Well, go on, man. What are you waiting for? Oh, you, Sergeant O'Keefe. He wouldn't feel it. A man's dead. Oh, too bad. Well, Mr. Forte, how many of them do you think that lily-white back of yours could stand up under, huh? Mr. Forte, what do you think of the Sugar House, huh? And how does Sergeant O'Keefe appeal to you? Colonel Delancey, I was told you had something to tell me. Would you mind telling it? Well, Tom, I understand you were born and bred in Westchester County. Is that right? Yes. Do you think you could still find your way around up in that part of the country, my boy? I'd know every foot of the ground with a sack over my head. Why? Because I intend to make Westchester the devil's own hell for every single rebel and his family who live up on those hills. Haven't you done that already? Not quite. Tom, I'm recruiting a Corps of Light Cavalry, a small, compact unit to strike so quickly the rebels will never know what point will be next. I want every farmer in that county to go to bed each night fearful he won't live to see the light of morning. I see. And what have I to do with these plans of yours, Colonel? Well, Tom, I want you with us. It'll be your chance to retrieve yourself, boy. You? You mean you want me to join up with the Tories? Why not? You'll be fighting on the side that's sure to win. I promise you. And then afterwards, well, we take good care of our friends. Oh, my boy? Is there an alternative? Certainly. The sugar house. And I can rot there until I die. Is that it? I'll give you my word as a gentleman that sooner or later I'll have you taken out. And hanged. How much time do I have to make up my mind? Oh, about 30 seconds. 30 seconds. Just 30 seconds. Power of decision. What shall I do? How is a man to know the right and wrong of a complicated thing like this? Isn't a man's first duty to live? What good is a dead body to the world? And what of the warm arms a man dreams about and children to come after and the singing and dances about the maypole with the afternoon sun hot on your head? You've got to be alive to enjoy that. 20 seconds, Tom. What difference does it make to me who wins? There's some who are born to rule and others to break their backs in serving them. It's always been that way and it always will ever since the world began. But wait a minute. Isn't that what we... I mean, they are fighting for? Washington and his men? This thing they call freedom. That all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their creator with... Well, what of it? Is that worth dying for? Tom, your time is up. Have you made up your mind? Yes, Colonel. I... I'll stay here in the sugar house. And now, back to Taron Power as Thomas Forty. After I'd spent some months in sugar house, the notorious prison I... I was walking about in the deserted catacombs one day when I heard a noise. Who was that? You mind if I warm myself by your kettle, mister? Cold in these catacombs. You're having your exercise period, huh? Well, now watch out for them beams. Or you'll bang your head. I haven't explored this tunnel before. Oh, say, that heat feels good. How does it happen they let you have a fire, mister? I'm privileged. Sort of an official, you might say. I bury the dead. Are you a prisoner here? That I am, mate. John weeds the name. What about you, Tom Forty? Three months, 17 days and about four and a half hours. But what's that you're cooking? Rotten pork and rotten sea biscuit. It's been condemned for the Navy. That ought to tell you how bad it is. But what do you do with it? I eat it. I drop the biscuit in the boiling water. See? Well, that kind of cleans it up a bit. And then I fish it out. And I scrape it off. And I eat it. I told you, I'm privileged. You look as though you could do with a bite. Have one. You're sure I wouldn't be depriving you? No, not at all. There she goes. Now, just fish her out and scrape her. Tom. Thank you, John. Thank you very much. That you, John. It is. Tom, I'm worried. They didn't wake me up for burying detail this morning. Maybe they'll be letting you go free. More likely they'll be hanging me. Tom, I never told you what I'd done. That they incarcerated me here in this terrible place. I didn't want to ask, John. Tom, the offense I was sent here for bears a fancy name. I never could pronounce it. Something like espionage. Espionage? You mean you were spying for General Washington? Hi. Now, listen. You know that tunnel where you first saw me cooking the biscuits? The one that leads to the dead end. That's it. Only it's not so dead. It's half dug through. And in three months you can work your way out under the wall. And what you'll do then is what I want to talk to you about now. John Lee, report to the guard. Oh, there's me summons to join me, ancestors. Now, quick. Get this. Once you're out, you take yourself to Francis Tavern. I know that place. It's swarming with Tories. That's it, Swarm. Now you're to go to the back stairs. Take a right turn and knock on the second door. Go after midnight. Who lives there? One of the bearmeats. Her name is Ellen. She'll get you to the American lines. If you'll just give her the password, strike a blow for liberty. Now, do you think you can remember all that? I can remember it. Who's that in the dark there? It's me, Corporal John Weed. Ah, come with me. How did you know Keith wants to see you? What for? Well, John, it's me private belief they're going to hang you. Don't mention I told you, though. No, I'll keep it to sacred, Corporal. Say goodbye to me, friend. Ah, who's that in there with you? It's me, Tom Forty. Forty? Well, John, you can postpone your goodbye for a while. Sergeant O'Keefe is hanging him too. Forward march, the both of you. I'll take care of these two, Corporal. Hold back your duties. Aye, Sergeant. Yes, I certainly will take care of these two. Hold up your head, Tom, my lad. And look straight ahead. That better, John? Ah, that's fine. Just remember by you dying for the best cause a man ever had. Liberty. Silence in the ranks. I was just remarking, Sergeant O'Keefe, that it's a long walk to my own hanging. I'm all tired out. Silence, I said. Why should I be silent? What worse can you do to me than hang me? Mr. Weed, one more word out of you and I'll bang this musket down on your head. Watch out for him, John. Well, what have I got to lose? Sergeant O'Keefe. Prisoners hot. Well? What is it, Mr. Weed? I just thought you'd be interested in my last will and testament, Sergeant. Then you're thought wrong. Item one, it is me considered opinion that Sergeant O'Keefe's a rum-soaked swellpot. Item two, Sergeant O'Keefe's a disgrace to the man of Ireland, which loves liberty and always wills. Silence! I don't know if that's his real name anyway, and if it is, then he must be an arrangement. You ask for it, Weed, and now you're going to watch out. I got him, Tom, run! Now I am hung not with musket, run! No, no, I can't. I can't review it. Say goodbye, boy. Say goodbye, Tom. I can't hold up much. Tom, goodbye. See ya. Goodbye, John. Don't forget, for all John, I'll strike a blow. I will, John. I will. My name is Tom Forty. Open the door, please. What is it you want? Are you, Ellen? Yes. I was sent here by a friend, John Weed. But what could he have possibly sent you here for? To strike a blow for liberty. Oh, come in. Where is John Weed? He died in the Tory prison, Sugarhouse, deliberately, so I could get away. He was a fine man, John Weed, and a good soldier. Amen to that. John said you could help me to get away to the American lines up the Hudson. Can you, Miss? I don't know. I'll have to think. What crime did you commit that they sent you to the Sugarhouse? I'm not sure. I guess maybe they caught me thinking out loud. Then you weren't a soldier. In the ranks, I mean. Ellen, I was a man who sat on the fence, who closed his eyes and tried to fool himself into believing this struggle didn't concern him. And if he only kept his eyes closed, it would all go away. And you found out it wouldn't? That's right. Well, can you help me? I can help you. Oh, good. Mind if I sit down, I'm tired. Not at all. Thank you. Let me see now. Tomorrow morning, I'll get your forge passport and tell you how to make your way to Colonel Talmadge's headquarters. Talmadge? I never heard of him. Colonel Talmadge is in charge of the irregularism in Westchester County. They're going after that Tory Colonel Delancey who's been burning down all the farms. Do you know that part of the country, Mr. Forty? Do I? Do I? That's such a funny, Mr. Forty. Oh, nothing. Nothing only, I'd like to see Colonel Delancey's face if he and I ever were to meet up there in Westchester. Well, it's getting kind of late, Miss Ellen. Yes, I think you'd best be getting some sleep. Me? But where? Oh, on the floor, you mean? Not on the floor, Mr. Forty. I mean on that bed. But there's only one. I mean... Quite right. There's only one bed and you're going to sleep in it. I'm going out and get you that passport. Now, good night, Mr. Forty. Uh, good night, Ellen. Mr. Forty! Mr. Forty! Wake up! Oh, yes. What is it? You best hurry. Your man's waiting downstairs for you. Here's your passport. Don't lose it. Oh, I won't. Ellen, I'd like to thank you. Oh, never mind that. Well, maybe someday when this is all over, I'll come back and see you again. All right, Tom. In the meantime, there's something of bigger importance you can do for me than for John Weed, too. I know. Strike a blow for liberty. Who's that? Strike a blow for liberty. Your horse is waiting for you out in the barn. Your next station is eight miles up the turnpike. White House, name of Jennings. Strike a blow. All right, all right, I know who you are. Take that dappled raver. Now, you cross the river on the ferry. When you get there, ask for Colonel Talmadge. He knows you're coming. I beg your pardon, sir. Can you tell me where I'll find Colonel Talmadge of the American Irregulars? I'm Colonel Talmadge. Oh, I'm Tom Forty. I'm here to help, sir. Welcome, Mr. Forty. Making you as men like you. Follow along now. I will. I'll follow along, sir. That's the story. I joined Colonel Talmadge and his men, and it took us two years to drive the Tories out of Westchester. It was hard work, and some of us died doing it. But when you believe in what you're doing, the rest is easy. What all goes to prove is that a man can sit on a fence just so long, and then a strong wind comes along and blows him off. I speak now to all of those of you who come after me. If you should find yourselves sitting on a fence in your country's hour of crisis, don't wait too long for that wind. Jump off and strike a blow for liberty. Next week, Cavalcade will present Kerry Grant. Our play, Signal to the World. It's a love story full of adventure and humor. We invite you to listen. Cavalcade Play was written by Arthur Arendt and was adapted from the novel Thomas Forte by Edward Stanley, published by Duel Sloan and Pierce. Tarone Power appeared through the courtesy of 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, the producers of The Prince of Foxes. The program was directed by John Zoller. The music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Voorhees. Now don't forget, next Tuesday, Cavalcade presents another of your favorite stars, Kerry Grant. The following week, you will hear Ray Milan. And in these succeeding weeks, other great stars in stories of America and its people. Cavalcade of America comes to you from the stage of the Belasco Theater in New York and is presented by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Listen to me and Jenny, which follows immediately on NBC.