 The Cavalcade of America presented by Dupont, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Millions of American men and women who have labored and today labor still with hand and mind and heart to build and to preserve a great free nation. The Cavalcade of America proudly dedicates the unending story of a new way of life in a new world. Tonight the Cavalcade of America presents Red Death. The story of Dr. Joseph Goldberger and his fight against Palagra Our star from the Cavalcade players is Edwin Jerome. The part of Dr. Horn is played by Ray Collins, Granny by Jeanette Nolan, Mary Goldberger by Agnes Morehead, Elmer by Elliot Reed, and the Governor by John McIntyre. Our orchestra and original musical score are under the direction of Don Voorhees. Dupont, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, present Red Death on the Cavalcade of America. The year 1915. The hills and fields of America, Southland are lush and green, and the land is peaceful and good. The Gulf Coast is a blue curve against the high surf, and the rich sun slants through the cane bricks of the valley of the Mississippi. But stalking the Carolina hills, striding sure-footed across the Copper Earth of Georgia, through the black belt and beyond is death. No man sees him. No man knows the time of his coming, for the cropper's hoe will fall to the earth, and the man then double with the agony inside him. And all men know it, and the sure death it brings, and the brand of doom it leaves on the faces of its victims. The mark of the Red Death. Yes, there's nothing more I can do here now. Dead. Sam's dead. They're all gone now. All my boys. It's hard, I know. It's hard for all of us, Granny. Cotton's going to rot here this year. Same as down to the Bennett's last year when the misery took the old man away. Ain't this never going to let up, Doctor? All we can do is hope and pray, Granny. Hope? Pray? What else I've been doing, Doctor? I know, Granny, but maybe something will come of it. They say a big scientist is coming down here to find what this sickness is. I know what it is. It's a curse of the devil on poor folks. Granny, sometimes it seems like that's just what it is. But there must be a reason why, and maybe this man can help us. You see, he'll have laboratories and ways of finding things out. Maybe so. But that won't bring my boys back. Nothing will bring them back to me. I heard you were coming, Dr. Goldberger, and I want to be the first to meet you and the missus. Well, that's very kind of you, Dr. Horn. Now, is there anything I can do? You just have to ask me? Well, we really ought to find a good boarding house, something. Oh, no, no. You'll do no such thing, ma'am. I want you to put up at my house till you're settled. Oh, Dr. Horn, we wouldn't think of putting you to that trouble. Why, it'd be no trouble at all, ma'am. Besides, it'll give us a chance to get acquainted before we get the doctor in office for his laboratory. I have no laboratory, Dr. Horn. You mean he didn't bring any equipment with you on the train? No. I mean I'm not going to have a laboratory. That is, what do you think of as one? Oh, well, we've all done just about everything we can think of, but it's no use. I'm afraid you're going to find out it's like trying to trap a ghost. I'll tell you, Dr. Horn, you asked me about a laboratory. These hills are my laboratory. I believe we'll never know anything about Pelagra until we know these people, their habits, the way they live. I want to do that first. Well, seems to me that's putting a card before the horse. Not a thing about them I couldn't tell you right off. Why, if you just go over my case history... No, thank you, Dr. Horn, but I don't think case histories will help. I believe the answer to this is the living. It's the lives these people live that must be studied. Not the deaths they die. How do you do? You're looking for someone hereabouts? No. No, I'm a stranger here. I thought I'd have a look around. Well, don't you go near that cabin over there. They got the misery there. Oh, bad. Have friends of yours? Yeah, they was. I don't go there no more. They're bad luck, those folks. They don't have nothing but bad luck. And it seems like the poorer they get, the sicker they get. Oh, isn't anyone looking after them? Yeah, they can't afford no doctor. We can send over what we can to eat, but we ain't got much ourselves. Maybe I could help them. I'm a doctor. You? You don't look like no doctor. Well, I'm a special kind. Yeah, sure. Hope you can fix up them folks over there. I'll do what I can. Yeah. See, Doc. Yes? Now, look, I don't want you to get the idea I got the misery. Because I ain't sick, mind you. It's just... Well, I ain't feeling so good. Let me look at the side of your face there. Seems to have a mark. Oh, there. Oh, that sunburn. I get that every year come spring. You get it in the spring, eh? Sure. Skin gets dry like from the sun. Like these here cracks between the knuckles. Don't hurt none. Let me see your hands. Well, they don't hurt none, Doc. It's like I'm so tired all the time. And there's a kind of a wall feeling in my stomach sometimes. So I can't hardly eat. You sleep well? Tollible. I don't hanker for too much sleep. I get bad dreams. Oh, I see. Doctor used to give a tonic like to the granny woman. Fixed her right up. Put her to sleep, you mean. Yeah. Hey, Doc. You don't think I've got it? We don't know much about this sickness, Land. It may take us quite a while to find out what's causing it. Doc, you don't think I'm getting it, do you? Yes, son, I do. I'm afraid you've got it. A mild-mannered, quiet-spoken doctor following on the heels of the phantom red death, doing what he can along the way to help and comfort its victims. The phantom itself is always just ahead of him, invincible and deadly. He quarantines houses. The red death walks silently in past the guards. He isolates whole communities. The red death strikes as before. Once, he thinks he's trapped it. Yet he's only touched its shadow. But on he plods in the footsteps of the red death. Thank you, dear. Looks very neat and impressive, doesn't it? The etiology of Pallagra by Joseph Goldberger. Scientific, some way or other. Not like tramping along country roads and talking to all those people. Not like you, Joseph. It has to be complicated, or our friends on the commission wouldn't be able to understand it. Joseph, it's amazing when you think men have worked on this problem for so long, and the answer was as simple as this. You're right, Mary. It is simple. Just a matter of balanced diet. Of educating people against the restricted one of cornmeal, molasses, and side pork all the time. Do that, and you'll end Pallagra. I wish I could be at the meeting to hear you. I wish you could too, Mary. I think we've proved our case. You've been gone so long. I had an errand at the hospital. Joseph, what about the meeting? Your report. They laughed at me. Oh, no, they couldn't. They insisted, in spite of all our evidence to the contrary, that a germ is causing Pallagra. Why, one jackass there. Joseph. Well, he was a jackass, and I told him so to his face. I've never seen you angry like this before. Well, I am angry. An epidemic like typhoid, he said, and they all nodded their heads. Yes, a germ causes Pallagra. Well, if it's laboratory work they want, they'll get it. I went down to the hospital this evening and got enough blood serum from Pallagra victims to wipe out an army, if Pallagra were contagious. What are you going to do? I'm going to inject it into my own veins, my muscles, my spine. I'm going to drink it. I'm going to smear it on my skin. I know how you feel, dear. Joseph. Yes, yes. I'm going to take the injections with you. Mary. Two subjects to experiment will carry more weight than one. That has nothing to do with it. You and I have always been together. We've believed together. Shouldn't it be that way now? Mary, please. There's some hypodermics here. Here's the alcohol and cotton. All right, I'm waiting. Please, Joseph. Very well, Mary. There. Now it's you. Roll up your sleeve, dear. Yes. There. All right. If they want this kind of proof, we'll give it to them. Governor Brewer, I appreciate this opportunity to talk to you. It's all right, Dr. Goldberger. I heard a lot about you. Did some work with Walter Reed in yellow fever. Yes, sir, yes, sir. That was a great experience. Governor, I am here to ask you a favor. Sure, man. Go ahead. What is it? I'd like to go into the state penitentiary. Well, there are a lot of laws you could break and get into prison, Dr. Goldberger. No, I want to conduct an experiment. What kind of an experiment? Governor, I want to experiment with a group of convicts and induce pelagra. What? Let me explain. Governor, I am convinced pelagra is caused by the wrong kind of food. Not enough variety. Balance the diet and you will prevent pelagra. I always heard it was caused by a germ. I know better. My wife and I injected ourselves with blood serum taken from dying pelagra victims. We did not contract it. I think that disposes of the germ theory. Well, it doesn't prove a balanced diet to stop it. Right here in Jackson, Governor Brewer, I investigated pelagra cases in an orphanage. I found out that children between 6 and 12 were fed on the typical poor families rations of cornmeal and molasses, and most of them had pelagra. Yes, I know about that. Then you ought to know about this, sir. Those that didn't have pelagra told me they were stealing milk and meat and vegetables on the slide. They meant they were getting a balanced diet. They wore it off the disease that way. Understand me, Dr. Goldberger. If I can help you get rid of this infernal disease, I'll do it. Now, if I let you go over to the prison, what would be your procedure? I will feed those convicts the average poor family's diet, and they will develop pelagra. But what if one of them dies? They'd call it cold-blooded murder. Those men won't die. I'll put them back on a balanced diet, and that will cure them. You're sure you can? Yes, Governor, I am. Then go ahead. I'll phone the warden to pick out 12 men for you, and you can give them your proposition. Thank you, Governor. And, Goldberger, tell them this. If they are willing to take the risk after it's over, I'll pardon each one. Governor Brewer, for this you will have the gratitude of science and all humanity. Ah, men. This is Dr. Goldberger. He's gotten some sadio. Thank you, Warden. Men, I'll give you the good news first. If you will do what is asked, the Governor will give each of you a pardon. A pardon? Well, Doctor, is you sure there ain't a cat in this somewhere? Yes. There is a cat in it. You will have to do just as I tell you. You will live in the new bunkhouse, away from all the other prisoners. You will get plenty to eat. You can stuff yourselves. I want you to. But all you will get will be cornbread, molasses, grits, side pork, and a few other things. Well, what are we waiting for? Not so fast. I still haven't come to the catch. And here it is. It is very possible that you will all contract a disease. Pelagra. Right there. Excuse me, Doctor, sir. But I know what that misery is. I see my little sister die of it. Why, you want to give anybody that kind of misery? Because if you men do contract Pelagra, the world will know how to cure others who have it. We can drive it off the face of the earth. I ain't going to get that misery for nobody. No, Doctor. Oh, shut up. You all want to get out of here, don't you? Maybe we won't catch it. No, how? Yeah. It's worth a chance. Sure it is. I'll go, Doctor. You too. Yeah. I'll go. Doctor, is this show you can cure us up again if we catch it? I am sure. And then we really get all the side poking cornbread whatever we can eat? That's right. Then I's with you too, Doctor. And you can tell the governor he can start getting ready with the impart. You may go now. I'm on my way, Doctor. Bring in three, two, one, six, Doctor. Three, two, one, six. Come on in. Doctor's ready for you. Well, how are you feeling today? Never felt better. You sleep all right? Yeah, like a top. No pain anywhere? Nope. No marks on them anywhere, Dr. Goldberger. All right. You may go. Thanks. I don't understand it. All this time and still not one case has developed. I've observed thousands of cases developing and primary symptoms should have appeared by now. There's still a man waiting outside. You want to examine him? Yes. Yes. We must complete the record. I'll call him in. One, four, three, oh. Yes, sir. You're next. Yes, sir. I'm sure he's glad you all decided to see me. It's near time for mess over to the bunkhouse and I's hungry. I see. Your appetite is all right. I take it. Oh, yes, sir. Boy, does I feel good. Any sign, Doctor? Not a single mark. Well, that settles it. I must be wrong. But I don't see how I can be. Well, this finishes me high. Oh, yes, Warden. You finish with this mine? Yes, yes. We're finished with all of them. The experiment has failed. Doctor Goldberger, sir. Yes. If you all is leaving, I just want to thank you before you go. The pardon and all that fine food. I appreciate it. That's all right. And most especially that fine steak dinner. Warden, what's this about a steak dinner? Well, sir, it was complaining like about the same grub, Doctor. And being a holiday, I figured it wouldn't do him no harm. No harm? No wonder the experiment hasn't proved my point by now. Oh, I didn't mean to interfere with your experiment. I just... Can't you understand what you've done? You've very nearly destroyed the one chance of finding the cause, the pelaga. From now on, Warden. These men stick to the meat as I prescribe. Is that clear? Yes, sir. Yes, it won't happen against it. I'll tell you, Doc, I'm getting so I can't even stand the smell of cornbread no more. Let's call it off and skip your supper tonight. Well, we'd better look you all over again. Number 3216. I'm feeling okay, Doc. You're sure? Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Well, maybe I have too much. No signs, Dr. Goeberger? Next, 1430. I can't stand it no more, Doc. Doc, our show got to misery. Quick, examine this, my lord. My insides, Doc, my insides. You gotta tell me, is our gut that misery? Dr. Goeberger, look. Look here. Behind his ear. That's it. Pelaga. At last we proved it. Well, I can't laugh this time, Dr. This means the end of Pelaga. No. This is only the beginning of the end. We've trapped our enemy. But we must defeat his allies. Poverty and ignorance. And when we vanquish them, we will have finally vanquished Pelaga. The red mark. For years, it's been meant death. But to a quiet, bespectacled doctor standing in a bunkhouse of a Mississippi State prison, it meant the climax of a long struggle. A struggle he has handed on to valiant men and women who today carry out his ideas, thus giving new hope to humanity. Through education, Pelaga may well be vanquished in our lifetime. And for his ceaseless labor for the betterment of the human race, Dr. Joseph Goeberger joins the immortals in the cavalcade of America. America thanks Edwin Jerome and the cavalcade players for their performance of red death. And now the DuPont Company brings you its story from the wonder world of chemistry. In the valley of the Canawa in West Virginia is a DuPont plant that extends for the better part of a mile along a river. One of the things it makes is common, ordinary chemical fertilizer for our farms. Common? Ordinary? Let's see. The plows of the pioneers were iron, pointed, sharp, and they gouged the land. West, the plow furrows ran toward the setting sun. Behind, lay the land, scarred, exhausted. The land lay starving because men forgot their children would live after them. We have learned at last to feed the fields that feed us. We have learned that the land rewards us if we replenish the elements we take away from it. That even poor land becomes fertile if we give it food. It took a while to learn the lesson and we paid in the learning. But we know it by heart now. Forget not the land, or the land will forget. That it may feed us, the land must be fed. Fed how? Fed with what? In West Virginia there is a valley. Necklaces of coal lie high in the hills there so that men must mine up to it, not down. Airplanes passing over look down on still another necklace, a circlet of silvery pipe. Through the pipes now gas flows silently. Gas from coal, gas from water, gas from air. Born in flaming steam, gas from black diamonds under the land, gas from water that rolls over the land, gas from the high clear air. The gases meet in the dark cauldron of an autoclave. No man could live there. The pressure is six tons to every inch, enough to smash a diamond to dull dust. And heat, heat so great that a penny tossed into it becomes a drop of molten copper, 2400 degrees, raging, thundering, driven by pressure and heat to lock arms in new substances, the gases race. And down from reaction chambers lined with glistening silver, down from whirling centrifuges, tumbles a soft, incredible snowfall of white crystals, like stars, flakes made not by snow clouds, but by man, sifting down and down. Stranger than snow crystals, but within their delicate filigree is a precious food that must go to the land if the land is to live. This is the essence of Uraman. Uraman with its precious nitrogen for America's fields, for the hungry section, the quarter sections, the forties, the twelves. Out it goes to all the counties with names from all the languages, Rustuk and Kemp and San Jacinto, Fernando and Selene and Coose and Río Arriba, Elk, Galea, Wyandotte and Hickory, the counties of the land we cherish. In Uraman are the potatoes a little boy will eat for supper this winter. The orange juice a little girl will drink for breakfast next spring. These are the crystals of life itself, body and bone and brain of America's tomorrow, bestowed upon fields with their blessing, by chemists faithful to the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. The DuPont company in response to many requests has prepared and illustrated 32-page booklet which tells about many of the modern Cinderella materials made through chemistry. We're now blazing the trail and a copy may be had by addressing DuPont, Wilmington, Delaware. And should you like to add your comments and suggestions on this current series of Cavalcade broadcasts, we shall welcome them. I repeat, if you would like a copy of this new booklet, Blazing the Trail, simply address DuPont, Wilmington, Delaware. And now the star of next week's program, Kenneth Delmar. Next week the Cavalcade of America presents a new radio play, Wild Bill Hickok, the last of two gun justice, bringing you the story of one of the most fabulous characters of the legendary days of the Old West. As a special feature of this program, we will present an original ballad, especially written for Cavalcade, by Woody Guthrie, whose Dustball ballads are familiar to many of you and who will appear on the program. Cavalcade is proud to pay this tribute to the life and times of that colorful American frontiersman, Wild Bill Hickok. Thank you. The Cavalcade of America, the orchestra, and original musical scores are under the direction of Don Voorhees. Your narrator, George Colores. This is Clayton Collier sending best wishes from DuPont. This is the National Broadcasting Company.