 The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America. Tonight's star, Lon McAllister, in Golden Harvest. Tonight's DuPont Cavalcade, starring Lon McAllister, tells of a young man named Cyrus McCormick. This year, across the great grain lands of America, our farmers reaped their harvest with the aid of the best equipment. And this was so, largely because of that young man, who lived on a farm in Rockbridge County, Virginia in the 1820s, where our story begins. Mrs. McCormick! Mrs. McCormick! Ma'am, could I speak in person, would you? What is it, Joe? Something wrong? Mrs. McCormick, I wouldn't have the master think I did this, but ma'am, he's down in the blacksmith's shop, and he's like his most in white-hot with anger. And you? He's fixing himself a whip. Oh, please come, ma'am. Oh, Joe, I have so much to do here. I can't. But it's your son. Cyrus? Mr. McCormick, he's fixing a whip, Cyrus. Oh, please, come, ma'am. He's so red-hot mad he'll whip him senseless. Pa, Pa, don't. Pa, never do it again. Pa, I promise. I'll work. I promise I'll work, Pa. Robert! Robert, what's wrong? Keep out of this, Polly. Oh, what's he done? Cyrus isn't a child anymore to be whipped. This has been coming to Cyrus for a long time. Last year it was the same. Year before it was the same. You better tell you, ma'am, why I'm going to whip you, Cyrus. Go ahead, speak up. Well, I've been working since four this morning, ma'am. And I was cutting wheat with Joe in the south meadow and... This was a lively clock. The day wasn't even half over. And when Pa came, he found me flat on my back, taking a nap. Yes, it seems that Joe was part of this. He agreed to keep on cutting while Cyrus took the nap. Well, Joe was supposed to keep an eye out for Pa, but, well, he got tired, too. So he sat with his feet in the brook. And then Pa came over the hill and saw us. There you're happy. Polly, what's your judgment? I'm afraid Cyrus should be punished. Of course he should. But not with a whip, Robert. With what then? Well, there's other ways to teach the boy a lesson. Cruelty isn't one of them. Well, then, maybe work is. Cyrus, I'm going back to the fields now. Shop on your side and come out. I expect you in ten minutes. Yes, Pa. You're going to cut until sundown. Yes, Pa. Ma, you know, I feel like I could die. We all do at harvest time. Why won't Pa hire more hands? It came. Everybody's harvesting at the same time, and everybody's trying to hire extra hands at the same time. I hate harvest. No, you're smelling. I hate harvest. I do, too. But grain has to be cut, and it has to be cut when it's ripe. We can't control that. We all have to bend our backs a stall. That's harvest, and it's the same the world over. Cyrus, you better go out in the fields now. Yes, Ma. Now, I hope you remember this. Yes, Ma. I'll remember it all my life. Nowadays, most of us know harvest time only when we see the pumpkins, the corn, and oak leaves in gaily decorated store windows. But the truth is that for most of man's history, harvest time has been a heavy time. It was when Ruth gleaned in the fields of Boaz. It was when Cyrus McCormick cut and gleaned in his father's fields year after year, and then one day. Come on, Joe. Give it a push. All right. I'll push it, and you hop on. Now hop on yourself. We'll both coast down the hill together. Here we go. Look at us. Come on. Cyrus. Cyrus, Joe, get off that thing. What's wrong, Pa? What in carnation are you up to? Well, Pa, harvest is over. We were only... I have more respect for my property. But we aren't... Get off, I tell you. We found this whole thing behind the barn. I don't care where you found it. Take it back, Joe. I won't have it broken. Yes, sir, Mr. McCormick. We didn't think you'd tax no kind of value to this year's contraption. I certainly do. It must be 15 years it's been laying around. 16. Next time, I'll have a little more respect for things I make. Mighty sorry, Pa. I didn't know it'd get you so head up. I put the hope of my life on that thing you call a contraption. What was it supposed to be? Worked for years on that net field. What was your figuring to make, Mr. McCormick? Make a reaper. A reaper? I was trying to make a contraption that a horse could pull and it would cut grain. Imagine that. My, my. Wouldn't that be the bomb of Gilead? But I failed. As long as man has lived, he's never found any way to build a reaper to lighten the load at harvest. Makes my back feel better just thinking about it. You know, it's an odd thing a man is. Here he can invent steamboats and steam engines and spinning mills. But nobody's ever in the world invented a reaper. Problem's too complex. Just look at that thing I turned out. It is a queer contraption. And it was just a lazy dream of mine. Put it behind the barn. Well, I got that card in me. Good for you. As soon as you finish this, we can rig the reel. Sara? Yes, ma'am? Sara, how many times do I have to send word? It's time to stop for dinner. Come on in, ma'am. Merci, Your Highness. Oh, Sara, you've got it all together. Almost. We will have by tomorrow, Mr. McCormick. Come here, ma'am. I want to show you how it'll work. Oh, it's no use, Sara. I'll never understand it. Oh, come on now. Here, here, sit down on this cake. There. Look, it's all lopsided. How can the horse pull it away to one side of it? Well, it has to, ma'am. Well, sure. If the horse walked in front, well, he'd trample the grain before it was cut. I see. So he pulls one main wheel behind him. And then out to the side of that is a little light wheel that holds the frame and the cutting knife. You see, ma'am? Now, this is the knife. It slides back and forth. Now, the point is, when the knife hits the grain, you have to have something to keep it all from matting. And how do you do that? Well, we call this the fingers. Yeah, yeah, just like a comb. They stick out a little in front of the knife. Well, I thought that was the divider. Oh, no, man. No, that flat thing on edge, way over there. That's the divider. At the end of the knife? Yeah, that's it. It sticks out ahead of the knife, too. Like the prowl of a ship cutting through walls. It's the same idea. This goes through the grain, dividing the grain to be cut from the grain to be left standing until the next time around the field. I must say, Saris, it's a strange-looking animal. That's the reel you're looking at now. Well, honey, I... Oh, no, wait, Ma, don't go. Now, that thing that goes around like a paddle wheel in the air, well, each time that little cross paddle comes down, it bends the grain back against the knife so it can be cut. Yeah, yeah, but gentle. Easy like. Because if it was rough... If it was rough, it would knock the ripe heads right off. But this way, the way Mr. Saris has it, it just takes that grain and lays it back on the platform like a soft baby sleeping. Well, I declare. Well, come on now, Saris, dinner. Oh, Ma, you don't appreciate the reaper. Of course I do, Saris. It all sounds perfect. When will I see it work? In two weeks. John Ruff has asked me over to his farm. Yeah, we're going over to show off. Demonstrate. Oh. He's inviting all the farmers from all around. Saris, I'm so proud of you. It'll be a heavenly blessing. Certainly will, ma'am. Then after the demonstrate, Saris and me is going to drive all over this country with the reaper like an angel's chariot, lifting the load from all our backs. Just look at Saris standing by his reaper. Aren't you proud of your son? I certainly am. Now, declare must be 75 people turned out to see him. So handsome, so confident. Well, I hope it's justified. What do you mean, dear? Probably when no one in the history of man has succeeded. Well, that don't mean now Saris came. I know it. Welcome, everybody. I invited young McCormick here. Show you all how this reap of his counts least to work. Go ahead, Saris. You've got the most beautiful field that grained before you in old Virginia. Cut it. You ready, Joe? Ready, sir. Get up. Jokes to get people out for. Every two minutes, it breaks. Yeah, look at that green. Beautiful green, all matted down. Man Ruff's looking mighty mad. Hey, Robert. Yes, Polly? Don't you think you should tell Saris to stop cutting? I should think he'd have sense enough to see his failure. Sirs, McCain, come over here. Ain't you got eye in your head to see what you're doing to my field? Well, there are a lot of rocks in that field, Mr. Ruff. Well, a lot of fine wheat you're making into one fun big mess for me. Well, excuse me, Mr. Ruff, it's mighty hilly here. And, of course, there are some things that need adjusting. Saris, it's your head that needs adjusting. Don't know why I ever believed you. Oh, sir, I couldn't trust my brain down. Knocking off the heads. That machine cuts like a wild man. Well, if you'd let me try again after dinner. Try again? But the whole field is ruined? Well, you'll try to get that crazy contraption off on my farm before smaking. Go on with it. Off. Get that contraption off. I know how you're feeling, son. All the months of work. And all the people laughing at me. Yeah, and calling out names to us. You think we'd done something wrong. You know what I'm going to do, Pa? I'm going way off and live alone. I just can't face people around here anymore. Mother's weekend. Well, I'll be in as soon as Joe and I get our sides sharpened. Maybe I should have warned you against being here. It was bound to happen. Well, don't linger now. I'll see you in the house. What are you thinking? Oh, nothing much. I'm just all sorrow. What did you do with the reaper? Stuck it out behind the barn with your paws? Yeah. I reckon that's the place for it, all right? Yeah, I reckon it is. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. The DuPont Cavalcade of America, starring Lon McAllister and featuring Ed Begley, sponsored by the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. The DuPont Cavalcade continues, starring Lon McAllister as Cyrus McCormick and featuring Ed Begley as his father. Humiliated, bitter after the failure of his reaper, Cyrus settled on a farm in the back country. Finally, after months and months of angry seclusion, the fire of his bitterness burned out and he returned to his family. Pa, I got an idea. Cyrus, I do hope you've come home to stay. What's on your mind, son? What have you been brewing all by yourself out there in the backwood? Is it the reaper again, Cyrus? What? Another reaper? I thought you promised not to talk about that. Oh, the people are talking about it. About what? That old man rough kicking me off his field and everybody laughing at me. He's right, Polly. They are still laughing. Just the same. Lots of folks keep asking me, isn't Cyrus ever going to finish his reaper? I wouldn't work on that reaper if it was the last thing between me and starvation. Cyrus, you mustn't be bitter. I'm not bitter, Ma. I'm practical because I got a better idea, Pa. What's that, son? Well, I've been thinking about a lot of things this year. I've been away alone. I'm 27 now, and it's time I do something with my life. What have you in mind? Well, you've saved some money, haven't you, Pa? Go ahead. Exactly what have you in mind? Iron. Iron? We can be iron masters. Oh, Cyrus, now you've been dreaming. Well, look what family's amount to anything around here. The Weavers, the Mayberries, the Jordans, the Brains, and they're all iron masters. They're wealthy and respected. And I'll tell you, nobody laughs at them, do they? How'd you figure we might say about it, Cyrus? Well, if we can find an ore bank with wood and water power close at hand, then about $6,000 to $8,000 would build us a furnace and secure the mine and the timber. What would you operate on? Well, another $6,000 would operate it. Well, that's risking a lot of money. Risking more than we have. It's no risk? Ore is selling for $50 a ton at Richmond. That means we could easily clear $4,000 a year. I've gone over this with a first-rate iron worker, and I know, Pa. Cyrus, this isn't something to be decided in a day, but we'll think about it. We'll think. I know you will, Pa. And I know you're going with me. We could make a fortune. Oh, Cyrus, couldn't you be happy here with the little blacksmith shop trying another reaper? I told you to forget that, Ma. Now, don't get cross. Pa tried it for years and failed. I tried it, and I failed. I'm not a fool, Ma. I know what's right for me. I'm going to be an iron master. And Pa is too, aren't we, Pa? Who can tell the future? But maybe we will, son. Maybe we will. Dear Ma, I haven't written you since Pa and I left, because I didn't want to say what I had to say. Things are bad, Ma. We've been struggling and sweating and slipping. We've got creditors and sheriffs crawling all over us. You can figure to see us back home soon. We lost the ore bank, and we lost the furnace and found it. Pa wants you to tell Mr. McChesney we're coming to see him. Looks like the only thing is to mortgage the farm we tried to leave. Mr. McChesney, my son and I have come to you with a proposition. Doesn't seem to be a happy one. Well, it isn't for us. We're out of the iron business for good, with nothing but bad memories and debts for the rest of our lives. Some of the debts won't wait five minutes. We need $2,000. What's your offer? In exchange for that, Cyrus and I will deed over to you our 500 acre homestead of walnut grove. Hmm. Sounds agreeable. Now, if we meet our obligations to you, the farm will be returned. If you fail? And if we fail, you can sell our homestead for your own reimbursement after giving 30 days notice. Mr. McCormick, I'll go with this, my lawyer, and have him draw up papers to this effect. Agreeable? It is. Thank you. Cyrus, agreeable? It's acceptable, Mr. McChesney. I'd hardly call it agreeable. No, of course not. I can understand. But, Cyrus, if you don't mind a little advice, say, $2,000 worth? Go right ahead. When you go back to the farm now with your father, settle down, buckle down, and really work the farm. That's what we intend to do. I hate to see a serious young fellow jump all around from one thing to another, plunge here, plunge there, always looking for greener clover. You are certainly right there, Mr. McChesney. Believe me, Cyrus, the clover right on your farm is as green as you will ever find. All you have to do is take out your scythe, sharpen it, bend your back, and cut it. Joe, will you stop sharpening that scythe? What's wrong with that, Cyrus? It annoys me. But, Mr. Cyrus, the harvest is coming round. Well, that annoys me, too. Then, son, I think it's about time you get over that annoyance. Go ahead, Joe, sharpen the scythe. Yes, sir, Mr. McCormick. I don't think you have any call to be bitter because we're back on our farm. Our farm? You mean McChesney's farm? I still don't consider your attitude befitting. Should I remind you that the iron business was your scheme, Cyrus? I know it's my fault, but I can't stand being back here and trapped again. It's our own doing, son. It's ours to face. Everything I've ever tried has failed, Pa. Now all that I face is to swing away my life with a scythe in one hand and a pack of debts on my back. That's right. It'll take us the rest of our lives to pay off. Uh, excuse me, Mr. Cyrus. Remember that reaper you tried to build a wild back? Now, Joe, let's not start that again. Cyrus is going to have to help on the farm before we lose everything. Well, I only thought maybe it was a way to make some money. It's a way to tinker away months and months and get nowhere. Is that right, Cyrus? I'm afraid that's right, Joe. Well, you had our fling and our failure. Now the only thing left is to, well, to spit on our hands and sweat off the mortgage. Well, son, I'm going out to the field. What's on your mind, Joe? Oh, nothing, sir. There must be something. Well, while you've been away, folks kept talking about that reaper. Sure they kept talking. And I kept thinking, but what good does that do? You know the only thing wrong with that reaper? No. What? It didn't work. Well, that's all, that's all. Now, I don't call that much wrong. But don't you think if you figured harder, you could make a better one? Yeah, I've kind of always thought if I'd only made the fingers out of iron instead of wood. Well, sure. Maybe after sundown, when we can't wick in the fields. Well, we could work here in the blacksmith's shop. Cyrus, I'm wickin' for you. Of course, the evenings won't give us the time we need. But still, who can tell if we kept trying, maybe after a while we might get one that would run? Cyrus! I'm coming, father. Both those fingers this way on the front. Yes, Mrs. Cyrus. Now, the troll yesterday when we went out in the wet was the angle. I figure if we change the cut in the angle. About like this? Yeah, that's it. Now, with a heavier main wheel, we can stand it. Because we've gained enough strength to take care of that extra drag. And let's put another reel on there. The blades should be wider, too. Be gentler on the right grain. Cyrus, look here. Huh? Oh, ma, what do y'all smiles about? Just look at these letters and I'll have a paper with news. Dear sir, Hezekiah Green, who lives up your valley, was telling me that you've been fiddlin' around with a reapin' contraption. He says he's seen you out cut and slick and easy as a razor. You hear that, Joe? Yes, sir, I did. He says he asked if you aimed to make an extra few to sell. He says you says no, not till you got it exactly 100% right. Now, I just want to say I got 500 acres of wheat every year. So as soon as you're ready to sell. He's got a wonderful letter, and here are two more. Oh, I tell you, words are beginning to get around. What's in the newspaper? An invitation. Invitation? The Richmond Gazette invites you to demonstrate your reaper next month at the county fair. Everybody be there, the governor, the baby. Hear that, Mrs. Cyrus? This will be the end of your sorrow. This will bring you fortune. But what if it busts? What if it works out the way it did last time and everybody starts laughing? Can't work that way, Mr. Cyrus, not with all these changes. You will accept, won't you, Cyrus? Your father thinks it's ready. He doesn't? Well, do you want to know the truth? I think it's ready, too. All right, Joe, you ready? All right, Mr. Cyrus. The horse is here, and everything's set. My dear friends from Virginia, as the orator of the day, I take pleasure in calling your attention to that young man over there by that horse, where the strange device hitched up behind that horse, Cyrus McCormick, to demonstrate it. I wish you'd let us start, Joe, instead of talking so much. Before you lies the golden field of waving gray. You got your wrench, Joe? You have to work fast. Now, when I fire this revolver three times, the cutting will commence and will so continue until the field is completely clear or the machine breaks down. Are you ready, Cyrus McCormick? Ready, sir. It was a fine demonstration, son. Congratulations. Thank you, father. Joe, you did well. Thanks, Mr. McCormick. Cyrus, my boy, I'm a humble man before you. Let me shake your hand. Well, thank you, Senator. Friends, friends, friends, quiet, please. The victory has been complete. The field has fallen before the reaper. We stand here, heads bowed. Tears in our eyes before this miracle. Reverend Green, will you lead us in prayer? Almighty God, from age and to age, thou hast continually revealed man. There's a creature at once limited and unlimited. Sadly limited, we fear, at many moments. Gloriously unlimited at this great moment when, through the agency of this young invader, Cyrus McCormick, the future promise is such abundance that already in our mind's eye we can see men by the millions. Our tillers of the soil, for the first time in all history, begin to straighten their backs and walk upright thanks to this reaper. Accept our thanks, O Lord, for this bounty revealed. Grant us wisdom in its use. Amen. Amen. Amen. Holly, wipe your tears. Let's be going. Joe, fetch the reaper. Yes, sir. Cyrus, I never thought any machine could cut that way. It was close. It was smooth. The grain lay lightly back the way I had always hoped to make mine do. Well, you were really doing it today, Father, because I never would have built this machine if it hadn't been for yours first. Better be starting along, son. Got some harvest and to do at home. Cavalcade players for tonight's story, Golden Harvest. Lon McAllister will return in a moment. Lon McAllister. Thank you. It was a wonderful experience appearing with the Cavalcade players. Ed Begley, my father, Irene Hubbard, my mother, Maurice Ellis, who was Joe, and all the rest of the Cavalcade cast. Now, as for next week's show, the star will be one of Hollywood's loveliest, Joan Caulfield. The story, a romantic adventure, Yankee Doodle Debbie. Don't miss it. Good night, now, and thanks. Night's original DuPont drama, Golden Harvest, was written by Halston Wells. Music for the DuPont Cavalcade is composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Boris. The program is directed by John Zoller. Don't forget, next week, Joan Caulfield on the DuPont Cavalcade of America, which comes to you from the Velasco Theater in New York and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry.