 DuPont presents the Cavalcade of America. Are people interested in chemistry in the miracles of chemical research? Apparently they are. Ten thousand people have written to DuPont, sponsors of the Cavalcade of America, for a free booklet and chart offered on this program two weeks ago. This booklet is called the kinship of DuPont products. It traces the amazing relationship between chemical discoveries and the chart is the sort of family tree of chemical science. Perhaps you missed hearing this offer or forgot to send in your request. A limited number of the booklets are still available. If you want one, just write to DuPont Wilmington, Delaware and ask for your free copy of the chemical booklet and chart. Remember the address DuPont D-U-P-O-N-T Wilmington, Delaware. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra sets the scene with a special overture based on three characteristic railroad songs. The railroad cars are coming. I've been working on the railroad and rail yeet harriers drill. Not the country. Made it accessible to millions. Bridged its rivers, tunneled its mountains, conquered its deserts. Men whom nothing could doubt in the performance of their prodigious tasks. On a June morning in 855, we find two people in the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts following the ancient Mohawk Trail, worn smooth by generations of silent, marquisan feet. Herman Halt and his young wife. Almost exhausted. Couldn't we rest for a few minutes? Oh, not now, Liebsen. I'll be almost at the summit. Come along. All my feet are so sore. Why did I ever insist on coming on this terrible journey? No, no. Be brave. You'll be rewarded very soon. Ah, when you see that view, all your soreness will be forgotten. Oh, wait. Stop, Liebsen. What is it now? I think this is the place. Close your eyes. Tight. They are closed tight. Now, give me your hand. But don't open your eyes until I tell you. I might as well. Good. Now, this way. A few steps more. Wait till I push this little tree out of the way. Now, open. Herman. Uh-huh. Oh, I've never seen anything so lovely in all my life. All those blue hills away over there. They are on the far side of the Hudson River, Liebsen. That is Albany through there. Oh, it's wonderful. And yet this beautiful Housack Mountain where we are standing is like a great landscape shut against the further growth of Boston. Well, how do you mean, Herman? See, the blue becomes very faint and cold. Beyond there is the Mohawk Valley, a great natural highway to the west. Down it rolls all the produce of the farms, the trade and commerce of Ohio, Indiana, Iowa. Ah, but what happens when this great flood of goods reaches the Hudson? I tell you, instead of coming straight on east, a good part of it is deflected by this mountain and goes down the river through New York. Can everything be done about it? Ah, that is why we are here. Something can be done. And your husband hopes to be the man to do it. I am going to build a railroad tunnel as straight as a die, three, four miles long, right beneath where we are standing. Through all this terrible rock? Under this mountain? Yes, my dear. It will be the most difficult piece of engineering ever attempted, for no one has ever driven a long tunnel through hard rock before. But I think I can do it. Herman Halp's dream becomes a reality. The construction of the bore begins. Years of disappointment and discouragement follow. Incredible bad luck dogs the undertaking. Heartbreaking, time-consuming obstacles are met. In 1862, under the golden dome of Massachusetts capitol, the state railway commissioners interview an energetic, wary engineer named Thomas Dole. Mr. Dole, work on the Housack tunnel has now been stopped for over a year. I know it, sir. Herman Halp and his company did a good job with the tools he had to work with. He didn't quit. He was called away to a government position. No man could have done much better. But that Housack nightmare is too big for any single man or any single company to handle. Exactly what we've all decided, Dole. But the tunnel must be finished. It now involves the honor, the reputation of Massachusetts. And just how do you propose to finish it, Mr. Commissioner? The state will finance the work. And we hope you will accept the position of chief engineer. You flatter me, sir. Will you do the job, Don? Can you do the job? Can any man do the job? It can be done, gentlemen. But it will take practically unlimited capital and unlimited time, unless... Unless what? Unless a more practical, efficient mechanical drill can be invented than any now in use. And unless some better blasting agent than black powder can be developed. This job is not only a question of men, gentlemen. It's a question of men and tools. Nonetheless, I feel we ought to be congratulated on one thing. At least we have found the man. What do you say, gentlemen? Indeed we have. It is the summer of 1865, three years later. A vertical shaft has been 1,200 feet down to the heart of the mountain. And now work is proceeding simultaneously from four points. The east and west bores and both ways from the central shaft. One day, as the men were about to stop work, the flame drills ain't worth shock, sir. I don't know why we go on using them. Of course. There it is there. They're down side better than hand-drilling. Mine's got to go to Blackston's shop again. It'll be years before they finish this tunnel if they have to stick to these. Yeah, it's a trouble, isn't it? Oh, another drill. Gone to it's last reward, Mr. Burley. Well, you're just in time to see an experiment, boys. Call the others round. We'll see if we haven't got something that's going to help us. Sure. Hey, boys, follow this one. All right, Mr. Burley. We'll let you make your demonstration here. The severest critics you'll ever have all around you. Just the ones I want to convince, Mr. Don. All right, boys. Can you all hear me? Yes, sir. This is Mr. Burley. He says he's perfected a compressed air drill that is more efficient and more economical than the ones we've been using. Well, it couldn't be worse. Well, that's what we're going to find out. All right, Mr. Burley. There's a big piece of rock there. Suppose you saw it on that. All right, Mr. Don. Is the air pressure on? Already back there? All right, sir. All right, here. There's the song. All right. Here goes. Times faster than any drill I've ever seen or heard of. Why, this drill will cut our work in half. Sure will. Now, if we could only find something that had more punch to it than black powder, we might get this tunnel finished before it finishes us. The Deerfield River is down. New steam plant directed to compress the air for drills that had been perfected to combat the granite of the Housik Tunnel. The gangs fall, too, with new heart, but still the work progresses with discouraging slowness, and the rock faces are moved back only two, three, three-and-a-half feet a day. And then some months later, Don, the commissioners, engineers, gather at the tunnel's mouth to observe another engineering triumph. Well, I kill it about ready, Mr. Don. We're waiting! All right, steady on now. We ought to hear it any second. And if it does all I hope for it, well, it'll be the grandest antimile over here. Oh, he's coming. How do you know, is he? Oh, get my descents to working in a tunnel. Kind of psychic, you know. Listen. No, no, wait a minute, gentlemen. Don't go in there yet. The fumes are bad. Mr. Don! Mr. Don! Yes? How is it? Does it work? We're wrecking it just works. All right, that one shot has done more in one second than the whole drilling gang could do in a week. There you go. Michael Glycerin was first used in a major engineering work on the Housack Tunnel. And with its use, the problem of the great shafts underneath the Berkshire Hills was solved. On November 27th, 1873, the east and west gangs hold through with only three-quarters of an inch difference in their center line. And one cold day in 1875, a small amount of men stood by a railway locomotive near the tunnel's mouth. Her brass was gleaming, her driving gear as clean as a town suit. Yes, we're all ready, gentlemen. Might as well climb aboard. Just a minute, Don. Who's going to have the honor of driving the first train through? My old bill up there in the cab, I suppose. Well, I think that the commissioners will have a word or two to say about that. All right, gentlemen? Mr. Glycerin! Don John! This job took 19 years in the doing. It's done. And if there's one man who deserves the credit, it's yourself. Hey, Bill! What is it, sir? Get over there with your firemen. Mr. Don is going to take the drop. All right, Mr. Glycerin. Go on, John, and get up there. All right. All the Lord, the rest of you. Any job, however, beats. A technical skill to master it. A stubborn determination to see it through, no matter what the obstacles. These qualities built the tunnels under the Berkshire. The cavalcade of America presented by Dupont also shows how these same qualities help conquer the greatest barrier of all, the Rockies. In the year 1862, President Abraham Lincoln approved a bond issue to finance the building of the first transcontinental railroad and urged land grants to serve as an incentive to its speedier completion. Two companies are formed to undertake the gigantic task, the Union Pacific working from the east, the Central Pacific from the west. January of 1863, these preparations made at Sacramento for turning the first start in the building of the transcontinental railroad. On the outskirts of the town, a crowd is gathering as Lehman Sanford and Carlos P. Huntington step forward to turn the first shovelful of earth in the great undertaking. Well, this crowd is feeling mighty gay, Huntington. Yes. Yes, I expect there'll be a grand burst in town tonight. I'm sorry we didn't arrange for fireworks in the band. These folks are counting on a jubilation. If you want a jubilate on turning the first sod here, stand, you can go ahead and do it. I don't. Those mountains look too ugly. And there are going to be too many months of hard labor between the first sod and the last spike. Good morning, Kelly. Good morning, sir. Get paid ready. Here it is, sir. I'll fancy it up with weapons. Well, give it to me. Well, Sanford, here goes. We start the great adventure. Take it a good one, Mr. Got a long way to go, friend. Hold it, got it. All right. All right, Kelly. There it is. Now get them into work. But Mr. Huntington, sir, the dogs we knock off and haul to Jamboree, we do not. We start to build the Central Pacific Railroad. The Central Pacific started at Sacramento. While on the other side of the Rockies in Nebraska, refined in the summer of 1866, the great drive to shove the iron rails westward has begun in Earth. In 12 months, General Dodge laid 587 miles of track on the Union Pacific. Spring of 1867. And an army of 10,000 is spread on a long thin line across the plains, digging, hauling, spiking, flooding. All right. Let's go. All right, thanks, sir. 2.3 miles straight this morning. Not enough. Any complaints? Nothing. Is the plaza all right? Of course, sir, enough. Them hardwood ties has raised an old nick with a pickaxe point, sir. All right. Put your more men in the black, Mr. Yes, sir. We've got to keep moving, all right. The CP outfit are halfway through the Sierras. Once they hit the foothills on this side, it's going to be a race to see who'll get the biggest land gun. We'll nick the stuffin' out of them for ya. Well, see that we do, Org, but you'll have to lay six miles a day to do it. In the passes of the Sierras, in the spring of 1868, an advanced engineer's headquarters of the Central Pacific, a young engineer enters the room where his chief is closeted with Colis P. Huntington. Hello. What brings you up here, young fella? Bad news, sir. Slide and headache ghosts this morning. Five miles of grade completely. Why no one was killed as a thumpin' mystery. Well, how did it start, sir? Oh, this last thaw. The snow started moving, and that rotten rock came sliding after. Doesn't matter much what caused it. The important thing is, how bad is it? Tracks are covered 25 feet in some places to Huntington. It sure is a pretty mess. Eh, sounds like it. Oh, the UP got the brakes on this job. Well, what do you men say? Part of the game, that's all. We've had something of this sort me to do. Things weren't marching too pretty. Sir? Yes. Grab a horse and go up the line. Tell every foreman to keep on his skeleton crew. Send the rest of his gang back here. Each man brings his shovel. Tell McGonagy to get that steamscoop of his time to round somewhere and get his baby back down the track. Beat it. Right, chief. Pick up as many men as you can and start working from the other end. Or get a horse trail through as soon as possible. See that telegraph line prepared at once. I'll take care of things at this end. I know these mountains think they can lick us. We've got another thing coming. Come on, Mr. Huntington. This is going to need us all. He sees the narrow threads of iron move closer as the rival gangs cross the state of Utah. The entire country becomes interested in the race between the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific. North, South, East and West. It is the topic of the day. In a San Francisco club. Oh, Mr. Sanford. What's the latest news? Six and three-quarter miles yesterday. Better than the U.P. at the end of the day. Holy smoke, man. How do you do it? No, I have to do a thing, my friend. The men have got the bit in their teeth now and are just beginning to make things home. Park Road, New York. Crowds waiting outside the newspaper offices. Two weeks later. Getting on to 11. They ought to have the report here soon. Well, perhaps they've decided to work all night, John. They might, I thought, Margaret. The way they've been making the dirt fly these last few days. Yeah. Well, see, John, look. Look, there's a man climbing up onto the balcony of the post building. Oh, I hope we can hear. Yes. Right. But do you realize what is going to happen, Mr. Secretary? Neither of the real old companies have received any orders to stop. And each of them, sir, has every intention of going on building in depth. Yeah, you don't tell me. Oh, I do tell you, sir. Now, this is no laughing matter. This is serious. These two companies are building alongside each other. They won't stop until the CP is at the Atlanta and the UP at the Pacific. He doesn't as bad as that, my friend. As a matter of fact, they've made their decision already. I've recently heard from General Dodge of the Union Pacific. And he says, we have made an agreement to join the tracks on the summit of Promontory Mountain near the Great Salt Lake in Utah. All that we need is to have the agreement ratified by Congress. That will be simple, Mr. Secretary. Congress will be glad the matter is settled. I only wish I could be present at the wedding of the rails at Promontory Point. Promontory Point, May 8, 1869. Hundreds crawled around two gleaming, wood-burning locomotives, facing each other across a few yards of open ground. For the last rails are to be laid and the gold and silver spikes driven, indians in bright blankets, distinguished guests in front coats and top hats, frontiersmen, miners, engineers, foremen, laborers. Make way, please, make way. We need room here for the telegraph instruments. Step aside, please. Step back, give it up. All right, set your key up here. Yes, sir. You won't be in the way and you can see everything. Oh, this is fine. Circuit open. Have a jiffy. All right, we're all set. All right, send this message to everybody on circuit. Keep quiet. When the last spike is driven, we will signal done. Don't break the circuit. The last spike will soon be driven. Got it? Yes, sir. Mr. Doran? Yes. Are you ready, sir? Quite ready, Mr. Stanford. Ready and waiting. Very good, gentlemen. Will you step forward, please? Will you take this hammer, Mr. Doran? I believe you were to administer the first blow. This, sir, is the spike. I hope I hit it. Fire nations, from one end to the other, in cities and towns and villages, hail the wedding of the rails. Initiatives, courage, and indomitable determination had marked the great undertaking from its beginning. And when the two old-fashioned locomotives touched cow catchers to prove that east and west were won, the people of America paid joyous tribute to both the accomplishment and the men who had seen it through. It had a vivid picture of the importance of explosives to great engineering projects. More than that, we saw that an explosive, like any other tool, should be suited to the job it is called on to perform in order to secure efficiency and economy. This is illustrated by a modern achievement in tunnel driving. The Cascade Tunnel, sometimes called the Great Northern Tunnel, or the Scenic Tunnel, completed about eight years ago. Men board through the solid granite of the Cascade Mountains in the state of Washington to make this straight and easy pass for great northern trains. It sounds easy now, but it was far from easy to build. Day and night, three ships of workers drilled, blasted, and carried away rock deep in the heart of the mountain range. The regular schedule called for five blasts each day. Each blast took a little less than five hours for drilling, loading, and waiting for the smoke to clear. One interesting feature of the engineering, common also to other big modern tunnel jobs, was the use of a pioneer tunnel, a separate boring about seven feet high and ten feet wide, running parallel to the main tunnel about 50 feet to one side and about four feet lower. This pioneer tunnel had several important functions. It was connected with the main tunnel and was used to drain away water for ventilating and for carrying in explosives. Since progress on the smaller tunnel was faster, it was possible to drill up to the level of the main tunnel and work in both directions at the same time. From the earth's surface along the root of the tunnel, a shaft was sunk so as to permit attack on the main tunnel at four different points. DuPont explosives were used exclusively on the cascade tunnel, and so it stands as a monument, not only to the engineers and their men, but also to their laboratories in fulfillment of the DuPont chemist's pledge, better things for a better living through chemistry. Safety first. Stories which trace the interesting development of firefighting will be broadcast next week at this time when DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. WABC, New York.