 The Camel Cady of America, stories portraying the qualities that have guided the American people from the earliest days to the present times. A group of distinguished educators, prominent in the American Historical Association, has cooperated to achieve the spirit of historical accuracy. It is the hope of new process that these human dramas will help perpetuate the wisest predictions of American life, because these same traditions of service, courage, and hope have always played a vital part in the progress of DuPont. And today, the research chemists of DuPont laboratories are carrying on in the same spirit, discovering and creating useful products so that the American people may have better things for better living. From time to time in these programs, our cast will be headed by a multiple figure of the stage or screen. Tonight, as this series is inaugurated, it is fitting, we think, that our first great actor should be that distinguished gentleman of the theater, Walter Hampton. You will hear him in each of the two episodes that follow, in the first as Master Bradford, and in the second as our South Dakota farmer. As you watch the American Cavalcade Passing Review, you find much that has not pumped in circumstance. A certain doggedness and perseverance, a willingness to stick it out of all cause, is the most distinguished attribute of the American. Let us turn the pages of history to the spring of 1621, to the pilgrim settlement of Plymouth, Massachusetts. There we find a little group of men and women who have been gathered together by special order of the leader, Master Bradford. In one corner, a young woman and a young man have gone a little apart from the rest. Why have Master Bradford called us together, do you suppose, Master Wingslow? When I first heard the sound of the drum, I feared it might be Indian. I rushed to snatch peregrine from her cradle. If there were danger of an attack, Mr. Swythe, he wouldn't see Captain Standish resting calmly with his muscadine warrant. Would Master Bradford look stern and sad? A little enough to make him smile these days. He grieves for his wife's poor Mr. Siddharthay. It was tragic her drowning two weeks after they landed on these shores. Quiet, quiet, please, for Master Bradford. Quiet, I pray thee. My friends, I have called you from your task this morning to speak a message which will shape the future of Plymouth settlement. For four months, the good ship may flower, has lain at anchor, unable to return to England by reason of the fearful storm. And the more who played, it took out many of its crew. But this morning, our Master tells me that God willing, he will sail for the East. You came to the new world with high hopes. Your faith has been sorely tested these winter months. But fifty-one remains of the hundred and two who came here. Many of you have lost those who were near to the East. If you desire to return, go back to soft ease of old England. We who are in command will not try to hold you. For God alone knows what awaits us here. Wail your choice well, for once to make our sails, there is no returning for anyone. I have spoken, my message. Well, Master Winslow. Well, Mr. Swight. Master Bradford knew he seemed to have pleased you. Why not? What is there for me here? I am no tiller of the soil. I've tried my best. I've covered a more venturous life. Is this not a mighty venture? And nay, this is but hardship and a rude wilderness. Surely you will return to, Mr. Swight. What is there here for you? You've suffered much and buried your husband here. And born my child here, remember? Born as the Mayflower near the shore. Then for the sake of that child, you should return to England. This is no country in which to bring up a girl. What chance is a child in this wilderness? Scarcely enough to weep. Spring is coming. Soon it will be time for planting. Everyone will be needed. If you're enough for any planting, perhaps none. But Edward, this is no time to turn back. We've made friends with the Indians. They've promised to show us how to plant their maize. Soon we will have a harvest. You have a gallant spirit, Susanna, but you're wrong. The Indians have promised, but they won't help us. I'll leave you to think over what I've said. And why are you so interested in my going, Master Wimbley? Because I can't bear to leave you in this wilderness. I love you, Susanna. For these many months I've thought of you long to take you away from this desolation. Master Wimbley, I admire and respect you. Once I thought I almost loved you. But Peregrine and I stay here and leave you the wandering venture. But, Susanna, if you only knew how long I've loved you... Today, Master Wimbley? But, Susanna... I play not with wandering dreams. And come what may, I am holding to this place and purpose. Susanna! Susanna! On the fifth day of April, 1621, the colonists of Plymouth again assembled. This time, not in the rude little meeting house, but on the rocky shore of Plymouth Harbor. All eyes are turned eastward to where the Mayflower rides at anchor, ready to set sail. On the shore, the captain, Thomas Jones, is bidding a last farewell to Governor Bradford. Well, sir, the tide will be turning straightway. I must soon be pushing off. We'll miss you, Captain Jones. I hate to go and leave you all stranded here, sir, in this God-pursaken country. The only countries that God-pursakes, Captain, are those whose people have forsaken heads. Think you any will leave with me? That young fellow, Winslow, standing by the cliff. Yes? He might go. He has no stomach for grubbing earth. He'd sooner be a sailor like yourself. Mary, with only half a crew and some of them not fit to stand, I could straightway put more hands to the rope. We need more hands ourselves. There's spring planting ahead. Only today, a messenger came from the Norseets. With seed and promise of aid. Woo! My heart is great hope. And I still dare hope that none will leave. May have his folly. But already I'm proud of our little settlement from the new world. And I must like to see anyone turn back. Aye, I know, like deserting a ship. Well, if you have any to make the passage, I hope they'll hasten. Winslow still seems undecided. He and God must choose his pardon. I'll roll to the ship and watch for your signal to sail. I'll file a musty. But first, I must give our people every chance to decide. Well, good hope, sir. I trust the next few months will be easier. Master Jones, just a moment, if you please. Why, surely, Mr. Swight, have you and your little baby decided to be our passengers? Oh, no, Master Jones. I'm not leaving. But I have a little packet for my dearest friend in London. Would it be too much to ask you to take it for me? It's all superscribed. I will bury it safely, Mr. Swight, never fear. And now I must hasten, weigh anchor, while the tide is right. Now, God speed. Good, Master Jones. All right. Push it off, boys. So the Mayflower sailed without you, Master Winslow. Mr. Swine, you... you speak to me once more. Since that day at the meeting house when Master Bradford broke the news of the Mayflower leaving, you've scared badly good morning. Oh, I beseech you, Master Winslow. I was angry. Angry because you were leaving. What made you change your purpose? It was Master Bradford talking with the master of the ship. He said, I miss like to see anyone turn back. Master Jones replied, I would be like deserting a ship. But I see it now. Oh, Edward, I too. I want to press on and make a new life here. Susanna, might we not press on together? Master Winslow, take care. There are many people here. They give no heed to us. Their eyes are fixed on the Mayflower. Susanna, Elder Brewster has read the burial service over many of our numbers. But the marriage service never... Our good friend, the master, is at this moment boarding the ship. All sails are set, a sign from me, and the Mayflower will way anchor and turn her course for England. Before I give that sign, let me ask you all once more, for the last time, do any of you wish to return? It's not too late to change your mind. One word? Good luck, gentlemen. I've made my choice, Susanna. Then I give the Mayflower the sign to sail. Oh, why your sails bling? Glad I am the sun is shining so fair today. The earth feels warm and rich at last. Mr. Kerrigan, I wish he might stand this morning on her memory. She's looking landward. Right, too. Why look back when there is so much ahead? That fateful day, the pilgrims made their choice and flung defiant at the dark forests of New England. Their will to carry on became a cornerstone of American caricature and from such people came the power to conquer a continent. Holy but surely, the cavalcade moved westward. After the pioneers came the farmers. Three centuries have passed. It is the summer of 1931. Let us look into the kitchen of a small South Dakota farmhouse. Sarah Winslow is busily preparing supper. Give these biscuits just about five minutes more. By that time, your father ought to be here. Mom, I... Yes, Ned? Well, this is July. Anybody who's been canning tomatoes over a hot stove all day don't have to be told that. College opens in September. September 24th, the catalog says. What's the chances, do you think, of my getting to go? Well, it's too early to say yet, son. Well, summer's started out good. Sops are pretty promising. If nothing happens, I guess your father will be in the positions of Syria in the fall. Take on a hired hand, your place. I won't ask for a cent from Dad. If what I've saved and what I can earn, I'll get along fine, Mom. Well, we'll see. I don't want to make any promises like we did last summer and then have to break them. Gosh, what a summer that was. Not a drop of rain for seventeen long weeks. I can't even bear to think about it. Waking up morning after morning. See that sun, like a great ball of copper from the crop, drying up, shriveling, shrieking for water. That's the worst of farming. You're working, you're worrying, you break your back for months. And then along comes a drought or a freeze or a flood or maybe some kind of a blight. And where are you? You're worse off than when you started. I know. And yet we keep on farming just the same. I'm not so sure that I will. When I finish college, I might get myself a job in... Your family have been farmers for generations, Ned Winslow. And I guess you're not going to give it up for any white-collar city job. Why, you're great, great, great. Well, I don't know quite how many greats it was, but your grandfather was one of the first white men to plant corn in this country. The Indians showed him how. Yeah, Mom. And his descendants have been planting corn ever since. To be burned up by the sun or rotted by rain or eaten up by pests. What's this you're saying about pests? Your son was just getting in practice for the college debating team, that's all. Oh, meanwhile, like it's not my biscuit to burn for Chris. Well, as a matter of fact... Now you two get your hands and faces washed and I'll have things dished up in a jiffy. Oh, hold on. Wait a minute, father. What's the matter? You've got a couple of grasshoppers on your coat. See? Oh, don't brush them off in here. Go outside. I don't want the nasty things to start hopping around my kitchen. Hey, there's an awful lot of grasshoppers around lately. Just the last few days. Have you noticed? Yeah. Picked half a dozen of them off of my cucumber vines this morning. They were eating the leaves as greedy as anything. They don't eat anything more valuable than your cucumber vines. We'll be lucky. Well, you talk. If my cucumber vines didn't matter... We don't depend on cucumbers for our living. My cucumber pickles taking second prize at the State Fair for three years now. And if they don't take first prize this year... Oh, there's one of those pesky creatures under the sink. What of it, Mom? They're harmless. Not this variety. What do you mean there? Well, these ain't the regular ordinary variety of grasshoppers that you get every summer. They're a special breed. Yeah, they've got a couple of stripes down the back. I've noticed that. And an appetite that's never satisfied. An appetite for what? Anything and everything. Tad Sunderland was telling me today they had the same thing in Colorado one summer. About ten years ago, when they got through devour in the crops, he even hit the binder trying. Oh, Father, I can't believe this. You don't mind holding supper up for a few minutes, Mother? I'd like to put in a phone call. Well, everything will get cold. Couldn't it wait till after supper? I want to get hold of the county agent and ask him what to do about these grasshoppers. Is there anything you can do? Tad tells me they used poison for them in Colorado. Poison? They made up some kind of mash and mixed arse with it and spread it around their fields. Nice job for a hot July day. You dish things up and get started. I'll be right back. All right. Come on, son. All right. I see you got cucumber pickle on the table, Mom. We always have cucumber pickles with cold ham. You may not next season, according to Dad. But with these grasshoppers, I mean. Oh, I'll protect for cucumber vines. Don't you worry. I'll cover them over so the grasshoppers don't see them. The green color that attracts them. Oh, the grasshoppers will probably all be gone anyway in a little while. Dad's an orphan alumnus. Always expecting the worst. The worst has happened so many times. That's why. The drought last year just about ruined him. Here he comes now. Ned, don't say anything to him this evening about college. He's not in the mood to talk about it. I can see. Well? Well, Father, what did he say? Seems just about every farmer in the country is calling them all of a sudden. To find out how we're going to fight the grasshopper, please. Fast. A cloud of grasshoppers darkens the sun and settles over the fields, leaving them barren of crops and the farmers in desperate poverty. Finally, one hot August afternoon, we find Sarah in her kitchen. Just stop in for a second. We're on our way to Fairmeet, nothing Jones feel. You going? Yes. Just some Zedward and Ned get in. They've been working day and night, scattering poison matter. There's so much ground to cover. There's only the two of them to do it. Well, how about your cucumber vines? Were you able to save them? My cucumber vines. Didn't I tell you what happened to them? No. Last I heard you were keeping them covered with dish towels. You won't believe it. But those grasshoppers ate the vines, dish towels and all. I can't believe it. You heard about the experience the Lindstroms had, didn't you? You know, the Swedish families leased the old fuller farm. Oh, yes. What happened? Well, they decided the best way to get rid of the grasshoppers was to send their turkeys out of the field, feed them up. So they figured it would clean out the grasshoppers and fatten up the turkeys at the same time, see? Well, when the turkeys came back home to roost that night, them grasshopper had stripped them as bears as they'd been plucked in your own kitty. How can you laugh, Jane? I think it's dreadful. Well, if I didn't laugh at some of the things that's happened these days, Sarah, I'd go crazy. John's so worried, sick, can't eat nor sleep. Something don't happen pretty soon. I don't know what we'll do. There's nothing we can do but go on. We can't quit. How does young Ned feel about it? I hear he ain't crazy about farming. Oh, he's all right. Well, Ned don't set much store but prayin', I'm afraid. He says the only thing that'll bring relief is sprayin', sprayin' poison in big enough quantities to really kill the pest. Folks pray for rain in the churches and for relief from famine and pestilence. The Lord can send relief for them things. I guess he can send relief for a plate of grasshoppers. Oh, well, the folks are waitin' out in the car. I better be goin'. Well, we'll see ya at the service. Only a step for us. Well, walkin''s better than drivin' anyway. Why, just comin' down the short distance we did, our car got stew all twice. Grasshopper cloggin' up the radiator. Well, goodbye. Goodbye, Jane. Hello, Edward. Going to service? Hello, Jane. Yes, we're going as soon as mother's ready. Well, see you there. Goodbye. Goodbye. I'll be ready in a minute, Edward. Let me get my hat. Mine is hot. It's a 110 machine. Weather report over the radio said it was the hottest August 14th and I don't know how many years. Well, it seems hotter when there's no green in sight. Well, I'm ready now. All right. Are you comin' to the service, Ned? Oh, well, I suppose so. Won't hurt ya any. Well, let's start. It's even hotter out here. Yeah. By the way, mother, I saw Mrs. Granister in town this morning. She told me to tell you goodbye. They're leaving? They've left. She said she'd been drivin' over, drivin' over here to see ya before they went. It was all decided so sudden. Where they goin'? Some place, she says, where there's no grasshoppers or droughts of blood. Then they're givin' up farming for good? Looks that way. They show good sense. The rest of it oughta do the same thing. You don't really mean that, son. Sure I do. What's the use of breakin' your back and breakin' your heart, farming? Somebody's got to do it. Somebody's got to plant and cultivate and harvest crops to feed the rest of the world. Your cities are all right and fine. But where would they be without the farmer? Where would they get their bread and their butter and their milk? And their other food stuff. A lot of food they'll get from us this year. Look at that field we're passin' now, Dad. Just stubble. Not a thing left. There's always another year ahead of us, though. That's the great thing about farming. No matter how bad one season may be, there's always the hope and the chance that the next year will be a good one. Yeah, if you can live till the next year on nothin' but hope. We've still got our cows and chickens and a few acres of corn. Oh, we're fightin' a losin' battle, though. What can you and I do, Dad? Scatterin' poisoned by hand against billions of grasshoppers. The government may provide aid. The government? They promised help, but where is it? When does college open, son? College? Why, uh, 24th of September. You'd better write and send in your application. Why, Dad? I know how you feel about farming, boy. I know how bad you want to get away. I'd be the last person on earth to try to keep you here. But, Dad, I couldn't go and leave you in a jam like this. We can get along. Would you and Mother leave, too? How about it, Mother? Leave the farm. Our lease expires this fall. But why should we leave? Because times are bad. That's no reason. Others are quittin'. Not this family. Our folks have been farmers for generations, Father. Yours and mine both. The Winslowes and the Morgan. They fought all the things that we've been fightin' and they won out. Well, uh, looks like service is about to start. Oh, my, look at Joan's seal. Just a lot of stubble. While last year it was waving corn. Now, everybody in the county must be here. Seems funny, don't it? The gathering for prayer in a field. There's no church in the country big enough to hold this congregation. Anyhow, it's more fittin' to pray out here. It's our fields that's been laid waste after all. Farmers do have courage. Look, the minister standin' in front of that great wooden cross. Let's stop here where we can see him. All right, we can hear just as well here. Oh, there's poor Mrs. Nardquist. She's cryin'. You can't blame her. She lost her whole crop. She's only been out here two years. Oh, I must speak to her after the service. Maybe there's a little something we could do for her. I hear she's almost starving. Must be over a thousand people here. And everyone dog-tired from fighting grasshoppers. You know, it's funny. A lot of them are worse off than we are. But somehow they... Well, they don't look licked. Look, the minister's holding up his hand for quiet. You know, Dad, there's somethin' about these farmers all out here prayin'. It gets me. There is something in farming, son. I guess that's why your mother and I are stayin'. I'm stayin' too, Dad. No, don't you do it. You go to college like you planned. You've already put it off one year. It won't hurt me to wait a little longer. Oh, Dad, I... I've got some money saved. I...it's yours, Dad. I want you to have it. Why? Why, son? We'll see this thing through together. You and Mom and I. Listen. What's that? Oh, it's a...it's a plane, Mom. Just the mail plane. The mail plane ain't due here for three hours. Boy, I can't tell you how I feel. You're sayin' you'll stick with us. Father! What king? The plane, look! Gosh, but it's flyin' low. Followin' us. What is this? Why, why is... Poison bin. It's a government plane scatterin' poison. Our prayers have been answered. Our fields are already wiped with it. He's flyin' towards Venice this far. No. We stayed. And that I stayed. God bless you, boys. I knew you'd stay. You're a wind slow. You couldn't turn back. Turning back. The will to carry on. The refusal to give in. This quality has helped shape the course of American history from the days of the pilgrims to the present day. People whose names by no important place in history's pages who quietly did their jobs and asked no credit, no glory. We salute them, heroes of the American cavalcade. Stories like this make us realize how completely dependent we are on our friend the farmer, on his courage and skill and resourcefulness and what a daily struggle he has to wage. Not only against weather and soil erosion, but against the hungry hordes of man's greatest enemies, the insects. Scientists have already classified more than 600,000 different kinds of insects in the world. If nothing were done to fight all these bugs, they could wipe out our whole human race in a single year. So it's a day and night battle that the farmer wages for us, literally a battle for our lives. And chemistry is his most powerful weapon. DuPont, producers of chemical products since 1802, is the farmer's ally, furnishing ingredients to fertilizer manufacturers, explosive with which to remove stumps and stop soil erosion, and plant sprays and insecticides that are used all the way from the orange groves of Florida and California to the wheat fields which are the breadbasket of the world. The aim of these services to American enterprise is to provide better things for better living through chemistry. The leading parts in this evening's episodes, which you have just heard, were played by that distinguished American actor, Walter Hampton. Next Wednesday evening, at this same time, Franchotone, one of Hollywood's brightest stars, will appear when DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America as the Columbia Broadcasting System. WABC, New York.