 The Cavalcade of America! Conservation has a special appeal for everyone who loves the great outdoors. There are many things in our national life worth conserving, not only our forests and streams and other natural resources, but also the fundamentals of American character and American ideals that have been ever present in the Cavalcade of America. Such ideals are being perpetuated today by earnest, sincere Americans throughout the land. Among them, the research chemists in their laboratories, whose unselfish devotion to science is well expressed by the pledge of DuPont Chemists, better things for better living through chemistry. The DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra rings up the curtain on this evening's program with a special arrangement of a well-known American composition, Oscar Rossback's beautiful setting of Joyce Kilmer's poem, Three. As you watch the American Cavalcade pass by, you are impressed that its leaders are builders rather than conquerors. They have cultivated the wilderness and made it blossom with the fruits of civilization. They have planted them protected. They have conserved America's resources. High among our unsung heroes stands John Chapman, known to his own generation by his nickname, Johnny Appleseed. Let us turn back the pages of history to the end of the 1790s. A covered wagon heading west toward the Ohio wilderness stops just outside the sprawling village of Pittsburgh, where a gray cabin stands in a flowering orchard. It's a little world like a bit of little old Rhode Island, isn't it? Apple blossoms on a sanyos. It makes me so homesick. Good morning, friend. Good morning to you, sir. Is this the place they told us we'd find water? Yeah, soft right over yonder. Thank you. Wouldn't you like to get out, ma'am, and rest yourself a minute by your husband's watering team? Well, yes, I would. Wait, wait, I'll help you, ma'am. Thank you. Oh, it's so beautiful this orchard. So unexpected. I didn't know there was anything like this around here. Well, there wasn't when I come here. That was the first thing that stuck me, too. No fruit trees, anywhere. I'd been raised in New England, to see. Tell me, will there be apple trees in Ohio, do you think? Someday. But not now. Well, Ohio is pretty much a wilderness, you know, ma'am. Yes. Nice place you have here, friend. I hate to leave this. It's been so peaceful and secure. We'll have a place just like this on Damondale in Ohio. But it'll be so long. Don't take long to clear land and build a cabin. No, but for trees to grow... We'll be selling trees, not planting them. Say, I wish you would plant some. Plant some? I'd be glad to give you a bag of apple seed from on fruit here. Apple seed? Yes, ma'am. Would you like to take some with you? Oh, we certainly would. We'll have no time for growing fruit trees, Susan, in the wilderness. I'll find time. Apple trees in the wilderness. Oh, then it will be home. After that, whenever a party of pioneers on their way to the Ohio Territory stopped at his place for water, he gave them in partying a little bag of apple seed. His gift for the homes they were so bravely going out to settle. Johnny the Apple Seed Man, they grew to call him. One night in the autumn of 1800, a trader from Ohio stopped at Johnny. You're the Apple Seed Man? Yes, sir. That's what they call me. Brought your letter from some folks out in Ohio. Oh, well. Here it is. Thank you, sir. Thank you. Bad news? Yeah. Someone dead? All of them. You mean... massacres? I don't know what it was. Rows, weeds, or something. What are you talking about, man? Apple seed. Is that all? Yeah, it's the same story everywhere. Nobody's had any luck growing them. You see that pile of letters, yonder, on the shelf? Yes. Well, they're all from folks that I've trusted seeds to on the way out west. They're asking you to send them more seeds? No, no. They couldn't do no good, but they did. Man, they're too busy out in the wilderness. You know, fruit trees... fruit trees is like children. You get watch over them, and nurse them, and love them to make them grow. Yeah, but once they get started... Oh, yes. If I could only get them started, but... say... say, I could... I could go out there myself and start orchards all through Ohio. Yes, you don't know how big Ohio is, brother. I know. Or how wild. The settlement's bringing up, though. Yes, I could go from one to another, planting seeds and teaching folks how to take care of them. There'd be no money in it for you. But I've helped give folks real homes like this one of mine, that I've took the first step towards making the wilderness bloom and bear fruit. God willing, I'll do it. A little settlement of Marietta, Ohio, there lived at the beginning of the 19th century one Dr. True. Here in the spring of 1801, John Chapman is brought ill and delirious with malarial fever, and tenderly nursed by the good doctor and his Negro servant. My seed. Where are my apple seeds? They've been mownin' and muddin' about seeds ever since we're done poundin' them. Where are my apple seeds? In years, it's actually had wisdom, mister. That's what you won't. My apple seeds, they're safe. No, no, you lie quiet, my friend. I don't see dreaming. Seems like I smell apples. You do. It's my tree outside. It's full bloom. An apple tree here? The only one in Ohio. I brought it with me when I came out here seven years ago. You should see it now. It reached full bearing? Yes. I expect you're here to have a fine crop of apples. No, no, that's here yours. Ain't gonna give you no crop of apples this season. No, no, for many a season, doctor. What? You've got more important work to do. Every year. Why, should I? I'll show you how to do the budding and grafting if you don't know. Who are you anyway? My name's John Chapman. I come from Pittsburgh. Johnny Appleseed. The Appleseed man. Praise be. Oh, you've heard, then. That news several times. All over Ohio folks are waiting for you, Johnny, for you and your seeds. I wonder we did. Man, you should be more careful. Waiting through swamps, leaping on the ground. I don't see that he has one when he leaves here. You're mighty kind, doctor. But I don't want it. All I ask of you is to let me have some shoots from that tree of yours to start my first orchid. And in the two years, God willing, every home for miles around here will be enjoying the fruit in the glory of an apple tree. In almost half a century, Johnny Appleseed labored in the wilderness, planting, nurturing, teaching, and overseeing. In 1843, we find him a white-haired man of 78, with flowing beard and deep-set eyes, the home of some old friends in Indiana. With a piece of charred wood from the hearth, he is sketching a rough map of what he has done. Yes, yes, these these are the roots the next immigration will take into the northwest. They're the roots I'll follow. Johnny, you're not going out there. Oh, you're not as young as you once was. I, I don't count years, ma'am, except as planting team. And you're ill. No, no, just cold. I caught. Yeah, going out to care for your trees in the storm. Yeah, my children. Listen, Johnny, you ain't had a home of any kind for almost 50 years, and you love oneself. Stay here with us and enjoy one for the rest of your life. Oh, do, Johnny. And what about all the folks that's moving further west to make their home? Well, they'll be nice to him in going out there later on. Yeah, in another generation. This generation. Well, where are my seeds, ma'am and my tools? Johnny, don't go. Funny, funny how heavy this bag feels today. Oh, Johnny, you are sick. No, no, just a kind of weakness. I'll be all right soon as I get on the road again. Mother, he must be tough. He's old and he's tough. He'll pass by the ferret like his mother. Well, I'll be coming back some spring. Goodbye, old saint. Goodbye, Johnny. Goodbye, ma'am. Goodbye. Towards the second sun and the new wilderness. We'll never see him again, mother. We'll see him every spring, my dear. When the trees begin to blossom. He'll be with us every winter as we gather around our fireside. He'll be in the homes of folks all over this great land and in the homes of our children and their children's children. Johnny Appleseed may pass on. His name may even be forgot. The fruits of his labor will live forever. Johnny Appleseed has become a legendary figure and today it is claimed that the many apple orchards of Ohio may well be called the direct descendants of the trees that he planted so faithfully. The cavalcade of America presented by Dupont moves off. Throughout the land today much effort is devoted to conserving and restoring our wasted timberland which have fallen before the Woodman's Act. Thousands of men guard the nation's timber heritage. Night and day, winter and summer they patrol the forest preserved, guarding against fires. Fires often caused by such terrorist disregard as that of two motorists who were one of our great national parks. There's another ticket. I'll stop and get it. I'll take the forest wing. Can't you men read? I'm sorry Arthur. I didn't realize. No, don't try to tell me that. You don't smoke without realizing it. Smoke? Exactly. Haven't you seen the signs all along the road? No smoking. This is a state forest preserve. Things are unusually dry this season. Sorry Arthur. We were talking about this sign. Throw your cigarette away Harry. I hold it. You throw those butts out of the car and I'll give you both a summon. Isn't that great in your car? Use it. Sorry, I didn't think. Yes, you and plenty of others. Well, all right. Go ahead this time. But don't let me catch you again. You want to burn up a hundred square miles of timber? Thanks Arthur. We'll be careful. All right. I thought we had a kick that time, sure. So did I. Do you have a cigarette? I think we better. Sure. He's turning around going the other way. That's right. You only said not to let him catch us. Yeah. The world's full of silly regulations. Hey, what did you do with that match? Well, I threw it out the car. Okay. I dropped the match and burned it up closely once. Not many miles system. In a tower high on the mountainside, forest ranger Joe Thomas is watching the surrounding countryside through his telescope as his telephone rings. Joe Thomas speaking. Oh, Joe. Okay, Jack. Hold on and I'll take a look to the telescope. Yeah, you're right, Jack. It's in the gully. I can just make out the light over the rim of the ridge. You better call a headscarf, that's your section. Jack, keep an eye open with you. The wind's rising and it'll come your way. Call me back. Okay. Hello operator. No time to small talk tonight, fella. Give me headquarters. Right away. Okay. Well, hello, Jimmy. What brings you up here tonight, son? Well, I brought you. Well, how many times have I got to tell you not to climb up the tower? If you ever follow up, your mother would give it to me. My second time. Well, that's swell. I guess I'll have to forgive you this time. Hello. Hello, Chief. I'm reporting fire. West Quadrant section 8, near State Road. Maybe Hunter's campfire. Jack, you get that operator? You can help me by keeping that party line open. All right. The battery's going to touch fire, so it's a swell pump. Out of the way, Jimmy. Getting a slider over there. Fire? Not sure yet, it looks like it. I know it. Okay, turn the shortwave radio on, will you Jimmy? Sure. About three miles up the valley for the long term. Three, nine, three, reporting. Go ahead, headquarters. Wait a second, Jimmy. Nine, three, reporting. West Quadrant section 8, near State Road. West Quadrant section 8, near State Road. We're going to cover it in six minutes. We'll report back in five minutes. Nice job, Chief. I spoke to you there an hour ago. Step on it. There's a bad wind tonight. Calling cars one, two, and four. Stand by. Two, and four. Stand by. Two, and four. Stand by. Two, and four. Stand by. Cars one, two, and four. Stand by. Just a few minutes. All right. Then you've got to get out of here. I know. I'm going to glide over there, but not on the hill. Yeah. I don't like the look of it. The wind is stepping away, it is. You've got to hit the home. Oh, let me wait till class three calls in, huh? High point. High point. Yes, sir. Not so good, sir. Seems to be getting lighter over there. The wind will drive it right down the valley through JVIL. It'll have to jump Pine Creek first. It'll jump it with its wind. You'll have to dynamite where Pine Creek goes through the notch into the lower valley. I'm getting it here over my shortwave set. Go ahead. Car three. Okay. Calling cars one, two, four, and five. Attention. One, two, four, and five. General alarm. Car one. Pick up. Join car three. Climb up. Pick up reserves and proceed to Pine Creek Bridge. Car four and five. Take up your reserves and proceed to Pine Creek Bridge. Hurry. Let us off. Jimmy. Get your horse and cut the home. Yes, sir. Get your mother and sister out of there. Take them to the notch to JVIL. Now let us stop this place until it reaches the notch. Even though it'll take dynamite. Take the lower train and I'll tell the phone mark. Get my home when you say I please hurry. Are you sure? Jimmy just left here. I hope he'll make it. I've got to stay on the job. After hour, Joe Thomas sits in the fire tower. His eyes glued to a telescope, watching the raging inferno in the valley below. He sees his home wiped out beneath a wall of flame, riding the wings of the wind. Help us to wait his family. He must stick to his folks. Any word about Mrs. Thomas and the kids? No, Joe. I'm sorry. Thanks. Jimmy should have had time to make it. Hold the wire, I said, Joe. I haven't said anything. Yes, sir. It has jumped the creek below the bridge. Better get the men back. Chief. Chief, have you seen my wife and kids? Sorry, Tom. Chief, Chief, the Pine Creek Bridge is burning. Now we've got all the men out of that section. I'll stay on the wire. I'll drive through the knots before we blast. I know. I'm getting everything you say over my short wave. Attention all patrol cars. Attention all patrol cars. Get your men through the knots. Get through the knots. Hurry. Well, they'll stop the fire on the knots. It's better the whole north valley will go. We'll still know. I can see the headlights of the patrol cars and trucks going through the knots road. Do you want to dynamite that stick to the timber and the knots? Yeah. Yeah, listen, and you'll hear it pretty soon. Fire is almost up to the knots now. Yes, sir. One truck is missing. Can you see it's lights on the road from your car? Wait a minute, I'll look. No? No? Are you going to blast? It's gotta be quick about it. Coming in fast on the left side of the canyon. Sorry, Thomas. No word of your wife and kids yet. Sally? Yes, Joe? Sally, is there any word of my wife and kids? They've gotta be in jail for by now. Daddy, Joe. Oh, if I can only do something. What's that, Joe? Dynamite. They're clearing the knots. Oh, let's hope it works. Yes, chief. Good news for you, fella. Your wife and kids just passed through the knots. The truck was without lights. That's why you couldn't see it. That last one was just for good measure. The fire will never get through the knots now. Thanks, chief. Men of courage. Men and women whose sense of duty cause them to be forgetful of self. Their names are legion. There are thousands of unsung heroes whose work it is to conserve our forests. Many have given their lives and their memorials are the green banners of stately trees. Without their speechless watch, blackened hills and fire-gutted valleys would lie like ugly scars upon our forests. Men who protect and restore our timberlands, the American Cavalcade salutes you. The firefighters in our state and national forests often have good cause to thank chemistry for aid in this important conservation work. Chemistry provides the explosives that are such efficient allies for the men who battle flaming timber and smoldering swamps. The other day an expert in such work told me of a fire discovered in a peat swamp in Michigan some time ago. It burned for three months before it was finally extinguished. A fire in a peat bog is no joke, for it endangers all the surrounding forests. In this swamp, the water level had fallen three feet below the surface and the fire was burning in the underground peach. The firefighters couldn't find the fire, all the water they pumped in seemed to be useless. In a short time the place would break out in another spot. Finally some experts on explosives were called in. They surrounded the burning area with a circle of ditching dynamite loaded below the three foot depth. The blast made a ditch six feet deep, so three feet of it filled with water. The fire was hemmed in on all sides and before long burned itself out. Another use of explosives in forest conservation is in the construction of fire lanes through the heart of the forest. These are wide avenues designed to prevent or at least check the spread of a fire from one section to another. These lanes also permit firefighters to get through the thick woods and brush close to the scene of a fire thus serving the purpose of a road. Their width depends on the size of the timber, some are as broad as boulevards. In making these lanes first the trees are cut down and removed then the stumps are blasted out with dynamite and all the forest cover on the ground is turned under by blasting and plowing so there's nothing in the lanes that will burn. Explosives also are used to break up hard soil for tree planting, to drain swamp and to check soil erosion. All such projects help conserve our natural resources. DuPont furnishes such explosives for conservation purposes and this story serves as another good example of the phrase that guides the work of DuPont research chemist. Better things for better living through chemistry. Winning fame in American literature stories of Mark Twain and Louisa May Alcott will be told next Wednesday evening at this same time when DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. W.A.B.C. New York