 The Cavalcade of America, presented by Dupont. This evening the Dupont Cavalcade brings you a program which salutes in song and story the Indian, the original American. Music has always played an important part, not only in his ceremonials, but in every event of his daily life. When we think of the life of the Indian and are reminded of how he lacked most of the things which we have come to regard as necessities, we realize that so many of our present-day comforts and penises come from the discoveries of research chemists. In fact, almost every item used in our daily lives has been enriched by the contributions of these men in laboratories. Men who have as their aim the ideal expressed in the Dupont Fledge. Better things for better living, through chemistry. Heard on this evening's program are Kuruks Pahitu, or in our language Lone Bear, well-known Indian vocalist, Miss Helen Denton Contralto, and Don Voorhees with the Dupont Cavalcade Orchestra. The Dupont Cavalcade moves forward. In an age-old tribal call to council, we have just heard Kuruks Pahitu or Lone Bear, grandson of White Eagle, last hereditary chief of the Pawnees, as he bid you welcome. A college graduate and winner of a Juilliard School of Music Scholarship, Lone Bear is a splendid example of the present generation of American Indians. Thanks to his careful research of the folklore of his people, we are able to present some of the authentic customs and legends of the Red Man. Again we hear Lone Bear sing. Legends play an important part in the home life of an Indian. There is an Indian legend of creation that tells how the great spirit in the blue above looks down on the earth. He sees how beautiful it is, but it looks very lonely. So in a voice of thunder, he calls into council the moon, whom the Indians call Mother. Mother, I've been thinking how nice it would be to make a man like myself and put him on the earth to live. But great spirit, of what would you make this man? I have this clay. See how I shape it. The hands, the head, the body, the arms and legs. It is well formed, but how will you keep it together? Look, I will slip the clay into this big hot oven to bake. That will hold it together truly. How will you know when it is done? I think it may be done now. I open the oven and take it out. Oh, look. It is pale and strange. It is only half baked. No matter. I shall put him on earth and call him white man. Now, Moon Mother, I will take more clay. Again, I will shape the head, the body, the legs. Again, I put it into this hot oven to bake. Oh, the oven is very hot. It is done by now. Be patient, Moon Mother. It must bake a little longer. It will be good to have this man on earth. Come, let us look. I think it is done now. I see, Ra, look. Oh, we are too long. It is baked black. I will send him to earth. He will be the black man. But now twice have I tried. So I must try once more. Again, will I shape head, body, arms, legs. Again, will I slip him carefully into the oven. Surely, great spirit. After making white man and black man, this time you should know. I think it is baked right. I take it out. Beautiful golden brown. The perfect man, the American Indian. And that gives you an idea of what the Indians thought of the rest of the world. Listen, the early morning sunrise ceremonial is about to begin. The drumming comes from the old medicine man who calls the tribe to come forth and greets the great spirits messenger, the sons. Men, women and children gather in obedience to the summons. They stand facing the east with uplifted arms. Their bodies begin to bow with graceful rhythmic motion as the voice of the medicine man is heard singing a fervent chant to the sun god. The drum sends them all to their... In an Indian village, one notices the mothers as they wrap their papooses to a hard cradle aboard. Some hang them from a branch of a nearby tree. Just as spring hangs her blossoms. The Indian children learn stoical endurance and become familiar with nature. As the mother works nearby grinding corn or beating moccasins, she sings and talks to baby. Please, now, when you wait, you will see your... It is not unusual for an Indian mother to sing as a lullaby to her firstborn. The song her brave sang to her in the courtship days. For the courtship, the young lover dresses in his best. Special significance is placed in his blanket, which he throws over his shoulder. The flute plays an important part, for it is his only musical instrument. The young brave carefully chooses three nights before the full moon to begin his wooing. He walks towards the maiden's teepee and places before it the skin of a wild animal. A flute call is heard which begins her serenade. His eyes are fixed upon the top of the teepee for smoke, the sign of an agreeable suit. At last it comes a thin, theory curl that rises into the moonlit night. The flap of the teepee opens. The maiden appears in her best dress of buckskins. Suratso is very pleasant and warm as the firelight, but I like best the starlight, and better yet, the moonlight. Ahu, the night. It is so beautiful. The winter is gone, and spring is here. The leaves whisper and woo one another in the breeze. The smoke from my fire is true, and travels straight to the morning star. There is a power stronger than life drawing us together, like a string to a bow, each useless without the other. Ahu, for one moment we lean up from that power, but now we must follow the trail that is right. The trail our people know. I am not of your clan. That I know, but does not our tribe call you the most beautiful? The one with the nimble fingers whose heart and hands move together? Will you not leave with me the fires our people? Will you not journey with me to distant lands, to a new life, to freedom? I am a skillful hunter, and strong. The maiden retires to her teepee. He decides to test her once more, so he prepares to sing the blanket song, his invitation to her, to come out and walk with him beneath his blanket. Should she accept, they will be married at sunrise. The song is finished. The maiden returns, and their love is pledged. The DuPont cavalcade moves forward. Our scene changes now to the windswept plains of the west. We are going to tell the story of a modern American Indian who stood against the traditions of his tribe, and dared his parents' displeasure. It is the true story of Kuruk's Pahitu, and this evening he re-enacts his own experiences. We find ourselves in the teepee of Atheists, an Indian father, who is seated on the ground before a low-burning fire. With him is his wife, Atheera, and Kurau, the old medicine man of the tribe. It is dusk. Since my son Kuruk has returned from school in the white man's country, he is not happy. He is strange and distant. Listen, he sings, but his songs are meant for others. Kurau, you are our medicine man. What say you? The head and heart of Kuruk's son are under the spell of the white. They have allowed him to return to his home, but he has left his heart behind. The spell is strong. Many of our people have been under the spell before, and you have freed them. Can you not help ours, son? I freed them because I believed in my powers and came to me for help. Deep in his heart, Kuruk has lost faith in the ways of his people. Silence. He is here. Kurau, what you say is true. Our son is parting from the ways of his people. Yes, my father. You know well that you are forbidden whistle in the presence of the medicine man. I am sorry. I did not think... You are forgetting all our teachings. Your journey into the white man's country has done you no good. You do not know the whites, my father. You have never been in their world. It is so unlike the life here on the plains. I cannot explain it to you. They promise you many things, but will they fulfill their promises? Do you want to roam forever as an exile from your people? I wish to bring honor to you until my tribe in the cities. Think of the happiness of those you are leaving. Our hearts rise to your songs. The white man cares not for the songs of the Indians. There you are wrong, my mother. Already have won the hearts of any with songs, with lettings of the Indians, of the sun, stars and trees. Stories which will make them understand this better. Ah, too right. You leave your hunting grounds for towns of dirt and smoke for people who will weary of you and throw you off like the earth does the snow when spring comes. My white friends want to help me. The white man has done many wonderful things. The rocks that lie useless on the plains he uses to build streets and houses that tower towards the sun. My heart is there, and I will not be content until I point my steps toward the east. I have heard enough. You are like the berkaboo strays from his mother, thinking he can find better food and distant forests. Go into the white man's world then and leave the fires of your people. Listen, and look outside the teeth. See how the mist has risen. It has sprung from the ground like smoke and seems to drift slowly round and round our teeth. The mist is smoke. Our people say that it is smoke that comes from the pipes of long lost warriors from the happy hunting grounds who sit in council. This is the sign of great importance. Perhaps it is the will of the great spirit. See the one that I go. Oh, the mist. It settles over the white man's country too. For long before the white man, the Indian was here. The greats go into the new world, Kuros, and become wise in its knowledge. Perhaps you may lead our people into new lands of achievement. I am grateful, O Kurao. But always honour the traditions of your people. Look each morning into the mist of smoke, into the land of your spirit forefathers. There behind the veil, the smoke will give you courage and peace. The return to the east was filled with real adventure for Kurukspahitu. The monks drifted into years. No word was heard from the absent one. Then one day in a western town, a pony chieftain rides to the mayor's office where a conference is held. The following day, many boxes are unpacked at the courthouse square of the town. Then the pony Indians of the four clans begin to arrive, some walking, others on horseback. Now they spread their blankets and sit in an expectant crowd before the courthouse. Two citizens of the town pause to look at the gathering. What's this big gathering of the ponies? Must be some important powwow. I know, except that yesterday I saw a workman putting up some loudspeakers in the courthouse. There's a medicine man over there. I'm going to ask him. How are you, Kuru? Kuru, well, glad to see you, friend. Well, glad to see you, too. What's the big meeting for? White man say, today we see great magic. Out of air will come voice of my grandson whom we have not seen many moons. Out of the air? I get it. He means radio. I remember now, grandson went east to study singing. Say, let's stick around. I want to see their faces when they hear this radio. May we stay with you and listen, Kuru? Oh, dude, I hate you. You are welcome. Thank you. Listen, radio's going. Ladies and gentlemen, here in our studio tonight is a young man who will sing for you. His appearance here is especially interesting because there is a gathering of pony Indians in a small western town waiting to hear him over the radio for the first time. He is a son of a tribe and grandson of their revered chieftain. His voice will wing out to the listening hearts of the ponies. We hope it will also warm those responsive hearts along the way at the white man's fireside. Standing beside me is Kurukspahitu, a pony tribe. I ask him to send back to his people a word of greeting. Kurukspahitu, will you say a word of greeting, please? It is the voice of Kurukspahitu. What did he say? He said, yes, and I am happy because I am to sing and represent you, my people. The white man with many wonders come and let us give thanks to the great spirit We of the old order were wrong but Kuruks had vision. As the smoke from the spirit pipes curls upward in the midst of both the east and the west so the voice of Kurukspahitu is carried to his people through the magic of radio. Dupont hopes that this evening many of Kuruks' tribe and friends have heard his voice again and that this program of Indian music will help you to a better understanding of the legends and songs of that brave and noble race of red men who can truly be called the vanguard in the cavalcade of America. Day before yesterday the employees of 81 Dupont plants located in 27 states learned that a new plan which they themselves had suggested and worked out with the management had just been adopted by the Dupont company. That plan broadly is this beginning June 15th any wage-roll employee with one year of continuous service who becomes ill or is injured due to causes not connected with his work shall receive his full wages during the period he is away from his job up to three months time. More than 32,000 employees in Dupont plants are eligible under this plan to receive their regular pay if they are laid up. Of course any employee who loses time because of a mishap that occurs while on the job will receive similar benefit. That gives us an outline of the new arrangement which is called the disability wage plan. It adds one more to a set of Dupont employee benefit projects some of which have been in effect for 32 years. Now let's hear from one of the men who will share on the benefits of this new plan. Standing beside me here is Walter Nelson a tin smith who has worked at the Dupont company's Arlington, New Jersey plant for 28 years. His father worked at the same plant for 44 years before him. Mr. Nelson works there and now his son works there too making three generations of the family with the Dupont company. Mr. Nelson, why does this new disability wage plan appeal to you? Well, one thing that gives all of us a lot of worry is the thought of getting sick or hurt and having to lay off work. A fellow wonders how he's going to keep on feeding the family and pay the doctors bills too. Nearly all of us have some of the health and accident insurance which our company helped us carry. But you know how expenses pile a lot bigger than ever figured. So some of us thought it would be a fine thing if the company would pay us part of our wages when we are laid up even though the cause of our being off the job had nothing to do with our regular work. What I mean is if any of us get the flu or break a leg playing baseball or anything it would be great to get at least part of our regular pay. But under this new Dupont plan employees not only get part of their pay they get their full regular wages. Yes, sir. The way the plan was finally adopted was a lot better than most of us hoped for. We mighty pleased about it too. Well, I can well understand that. It's also interesting how this plan was worked out jointly between the employees and the management. Several months ago men in five different Dupont plants brought up the question of wage benefits. They were asked to submit definite proposals and after this was done a composite plan was submitted to representatives of the employees at all the other Dupont plants. Finally after everyone's ideas were considered the plan was worked out in its present form giving full wages instead of part pay and the Dupont company is putting the plan into effect the middle of June. That was real cooperation. This spirit means something to people everywhere. Whether they are chemists, engineers, salesmen or plant workers Dupont employees are working together to produce better things for better living through chemistry. The story of Dye's the development of a great new American industry and its daily benefit to modern living 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 System.