 of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America. Tonight's star, Margaret O'Brien, in Juliet in Pigtails. Tonight's DuPont Cavalcade, starring Margaret O'Brien, begins in November, 1875, and tells the story of how Mary Anderson, a great actress of the American stage, got her start. Louisville, Kentucky, the golden age of the racing thoroughbred of bustling steamboats on the Ohio River, gracious mansions, pompadour ladies, gentlemen in tall silk hats, a glamorous city in 1875, and a busy city, busy everywhere except at Macaulay's Theater. There, silence, abysmal, dismal silence. Anyone here? Nobody, how did you get in? I just opened the door. Are you Mr. Macaulay? And won't do you any good, I am broke. My name is Mary Anderson. My father, that is my stepfather, bought two tickets for Romeo and Juliet, for Saturday night. Well, go to the cashier. Maybe you can still get your money back. Oh, we don't want our money back. We want Romeo and Juliet. Sorry, the show has been canceled. So we were told, Mr. Macaulay, why was it canceled? No, Juliet. Has your Juliet been taken ill? She's not my Juliet, and she's quit. Why? She's peculiar. She doesn't like to play to empty seats. Romeo isn't much without Juliet. I agree with you. Mr. Macaulay, I could be your Juliet. What? Who could? Me. And who is me? Why me, Mary Anderson? I've always wanted to be an actress, and I've always wanted to play Juliet. I know all the lines by heart. Well, if I were you, I'd go home and brush my pigtails. These are not pigtails. Mr. Macaulay, I'm an actress. Honest and truly I am. Why, ever since I was so high, I've been reading Shakespeare, written the third in Hamlet, and Romeo and Juliet. Please, Mr. Macaulay, try me. 10 minutes, that's all. Five minutes, I won't ask for more. Even three minutes? Just three tiny minutes. Please, Mr. Macaulay. How old are you? What? Mary Anderson, how old are you? Oh, I'm going on 16. Huh. What year? Mr. Macaulay, you don't have to be middle-aged to play Juliet. I refer you to Act 1, Scene 2. Juliet's father says, my child is yet a stranger to the world. She has not seen the change of 14 years. Oh, I didn't play that well. I'll do it again for you, this time with expression. You will not do it again for me. What is the name of your poor, unfortunate father? He's not poor, and he's not unfortunate. And he's my stepfather. Besides, he's a respectable physician. The name of the man? Dr. Hamilton Griffin. Griffith? Griffin, Griffin! Don't worry about it, I didn't hit you. You shouted, you won't give me a chance. Oh, shut up! Stop shouting! All right, all right, desist. Now please, Mary, I want you to do something for me. Something important, crucial. Anything. My compliments to Dr. Griffin. Please tell him that Barney Macaulay says, to lock you in your room and not to open the door until Christmas. Your mother will be upset because you haven't touched your dinner. He wouldn't even listen to me, Daddy. Why don't you try some of the roast beef? It's quite good. I don't want any, I'm not hungry. He treated me like a little girl. Go home and brush your pigtails, he said. Well, at least have a slice of bread and butter. You can eat that much. He thinks I'm just another stage-struck child. Aren't you? Not a child, perhaps, but stage-struck. Daddy, how can you say that? This is no passing, fancy. Oh. Well, darling, I don't want you to be hurt. I should have thought of that before. Before you taught me how to read lines. You shouldn't have given me Shakespeare and Marlowe for my birthday presents. You shouldn't have rehearsed all those evenings with me. You shouldn't have encouraged me to study and to work and to hope. Daddy, I want the stage. It's no passing, fancy. Yes, I believe you. Now, I suppose you get your coat and hat. Are we going somewhere? You see, Barney Macaulay. Oh, Dr. Hamilton Griffin, I love you. Thanks, baby. But don't pound on anything. The odds are, he'll say no. But by golly, before he does, Barney Macaulay is going to give you a proper hearing. Come along, Mary. You know, Dr. Griffin, females are not admitted to the billiard room of the Galt House. So I am aware, Mr. Macaulay, besides you're wasting your valuable time. Hey, that was a proper shot. You're rude. Who are you calling rude? Mr. Barney Macaulay. Young lady, I was playing billiards. I didn't ask you in. You broke in. You interfere with my game. And you call me rude. I apologize for my rudeness, Mr. Macaulay. Now, will you apologize for your rudeness, especially this morning? You've got brass, I'll say that. Do you apologize, sir? Dr. Griffin, what would you prescribe in a situation like this? The girl is serious, Macaulay. You've got a play schedule for Saturday night and no Julian. Allow her three minutes to convince you she's your substitute. And if she doesn't convince me? You will not be disturbed again. Mary, do I have your word on that? Yes, sir, you have it. It's a bargain. Mary Anderson, I take out my watch. You've got three minutes in which to convince me you are Julian. I can't do it here. Here in the billiard room? That's five seconds gone. But Mr. Macaulay, I don't want to just recite. I need someone to play against me. Eight seconds? Easy, darling. Don't let him make you nervous. Well? Daddy, which line shall I speak? Everything has suddenly gone out of my head. Fourteen. Macaulay, have the decency to give the girl a chance. Mary dear, you haven't forgotten a thing. Remember part of the balcony scene? It is but thy name that is my enemy. Speak the lines, Mary. You've spoken them a hundred times. Just speak them to me. Oh, come. Romeo's line is, shall I hear more or shall I speak at this? It is but thy name that is my enemy. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell a sweet. So Romeo would. Were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doth thy name. And for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You're right, Dr. Griffith. You're right. The child has talent. But she's still only a child with talent. Children can't walk up on a stage, even gifted children, without needing something in addition. This girl hasn't lived enough. She hasn't known enough pain. She hasn't suffered enough. I agree, Macaulay. Yet on Saturday evening, she could play Juliet. And she would not bring disgrace either to the people of Louisville or to Macaulay's theater. Dr. Griffin, I'll make a bargain with you. Name it. You want this girl to have her chance, eh? With all my heart and soul. Good. All right. I guarantee to provide the cast of the theater. Oh, Daddy. I guarantee those things. You guarantee the audience. What? You guarantee every seat filled and paid for. Yeah. A rather hard bargain, Macaulay. You're probably right. What's your answer? This is Thursday. The performance is Saturday. Three days to sell out the house in advance. It can be done in three days. And if I can't sell the entire house, you will pay me for every unoccupied seat. Daddy, no. We tried. I can't let you do it. You're entitled to your chance. Not at the risk of making a poor man of you. That's the chance I have to take. Macaulay, on Saturday night, this girl plays Juliet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going down to the Courier Journal to ask editor Waddison to help us fill your theater. Doctor, we go to present two hours. There isn't enough time. I'm afraid you're going to lose your shirt, Mr. Waddison. I don't care about losing the money. But if that girl has to face an empty, echoing barn of a theater, she'll go to pieces. Well, there isn't much that can be done between now and Saturday evening. Well, let's do that much. Mr. Waddison, will you help me fill the theater? Well, all right. I suppose I'll have to. You don't approve of what I've done, do you? Newspaper publishers get to know about a lot of fool things. But Dr. Griffin, for pure 18-carat blue-white foolishness, your little deal with Bonnie Macaulay wins the floral horseshoe. I know it. And yet, you see, I have no hesitation about coming to you. You wouldn't hesitate to call me about a pain in your stomach. I don't hesitate to call you about a pain in Mary's heart. Doctor, I promise you that everyone who works for the Courier Journal will be at Macaulay's theater Saturday evening. Thank you. And everyone who doesn't applaud his head-off will be fired on Monday morning. Now, if you forgive me, Doctor, I've got an editorial to write about Juliet in pigtails. You run along and see some patients, why don't you? Dr. Griffin, do come in. Why is something wrong, Doctor? You look horrible. Mrs. Daly, I've spent the entire day going to each of my patients. Oh, my. Is there an epidemic, Doctor? Yes, but not the kind you think. Mrs. Daly, Saturday night down at Macaulay's theater, my daughter, Mary Anderson, makes her debut as an actress in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Where? Yes, the sale at the box office has been rather poor. You don't have to say another word, Dr. Griffin. You know where I can get some tickets. Well, now, it just so happens that I have a few with me. It just so happens that my husband has a dozen relatives who think William Shakespeare is a racehorse. They need education. I'll take a dozen tickets, and they'll pay for them. Mrs. Daly, I can't tell you how much it is. It is thick. Now, you go on home and be with Mary. Therefore, you know that poor girl is just perishing with pride at this very moment. Now, if you all want to know why I called you together, don't interrupt till I'm finished. Henry Smith, do you want to take me to the church social next week for a ticket? Amy Harris, if you still want help with your algebra, six tickets. Maybe, gentlemen, you'd love to wear my yellow dress next Derby Day. Oh, don't even bother denying it. For eight tickets, you can wear it. And my yellow shoes, if they'll fit you. Oh, you don't have to use them all yourself. Sell them to your friends, and I plenty more of these on it now. Happy coincidence? I have a surprise for you. Yes, how many tickets I have? Yes, how many tickets I have? I had three. No, there's a moment to go. You were such an actress, I've been pretending all day. Daddy, I'm afraid. Of what, sweetheart? Her hair, so. Oh, baby, nothing can go wrong. I'll go with you. I'm a coward, Daddy. I pretend, and I pretend, and I'm still a coward. Daddy, it'll be your soul. Oh, don't worry, dear. I'll be there. Stay near me. Don't go away. Promise me. I promise, Mary. Blow your nose. Good. Now, go wash your face. Juliet may come to rehearsal in pigtails, but let it not be said that she comes with a dirty face. Cavalcade continues, starring Margaret O'Brien as Mary Anderson. It is 1875. Mary Anderson is scheduled to make her debut as Juliet at Macaulay's Theater in Louisville, Kentucky. It's just before rehearsal time. Perfect. Yes, Macaulay. I'm afraid the rehearsal is going to be a little noisy. The carpenters have to refurbish the old sets. There. There. How do you feel, Mary? Nervous. Oh, that's good. I'll take a nervous actor every time. Did you bring your Juliet costume? No, sir. I'm afraid I don't have one. I thought. That's too bad. Maybe the actress who played Juliet will be gracious enough to lend you the thing she wore. Children, nothing of the sort, Macaulay. I'm not the gracious kind. You're talking about the. How are you, darling? Sir, this is Juliet. How do you do? Macaulay, isn't there a law against cradle snatching? Be a good Juliet. Will you and go somewhere else? Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world. I'm going to watch the rehearsal. Well, then you'll keep your mouth shut. Oh, I promise. So help me. Please, to begin. Hey, Romeo, where for art thou, you booze hounds? You're Juliet's waiting for her first cue. Macaulay, I will bless unless she stops calling me a booze hound. If you don't think she's a booze hound, smell his breath. Shut up, you old hag. I'm right here, Mr. Macaulay. You mustn't allow any of this to upset you. Oh, no, sir, not at all. Fine, fine, girl's a trooper. Now, Romeo, behave yourself and give Mary a cue. Suppose you take it at the first encounter between Romeo and Juliet. Act one, scene five. Quiet, please. If I have, with this holy shrine, the gentle fine as this, me lips two blushing pilgrims ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. For Mary, that's your cue. Yes, sir. Well, go on, speak up. What are you waiting for? Nothing, Mr. Macaulay, except that I think I'm going to be sick. Feel well enough to talk? I'm much better, Daddy. Oh, good. Here's Mr. Macaulay. He wants to speak to you. Hello, Mary. Hey, you look pale. I feel pale. Yes. Well, my dear, I've been doing a little soul searching. About me? Yes, about you and about me. Honey, suppose we call this whole thing off. Oh, you couldn't do that, Mr. Macaulay. I've tried to make a little money. There's nothing wrong with that. But I don't want to blast your life. I'll be all right. It won't happen again. Girl, they're going to badger you. That cast is spoiling for a fight. They'll do their level best to make your debut a fiasco. It will still be my debut. It won't be worth much. A jealous company, a drunken Romeo, stage hands you don't dare cross, call it off, I say. No, Mr. Macaulay. Well, forgive me for saying so. But now you're behaving like a child, a foolish child. Yes, Mr. Macaulay. But I may never get another chance again, never in my whole life. I want to know about myself. I've got to know. Oh. Well, Dr. Griffin, it's up to you to talk to the child. She didn't sound like a child just now. Tomorrow night when the curtain goes up, they'll tear this daughter of yours to pieces. They won't dare. We'll both be watching. All right, have it your own stubborn way. I've cried to do the right thing. Mary, my wife will patch a few odds and ends together to make a costume for you. I'm very grateful to your wife. You'll need all your strength for tomorrow, both of you. Take the advice of an old showman and go home and have a good night's rest. Oh, I'm afraid we can't do that, Mr. Macaulay. You can't. No, sir. Daddy and I still have nearly 100 tickets to sell. On the evening of November 27, 1875, Macaulay's theater was crowded with men and women who had come to witness the debut of a Louisville girl. It became an extraordinary evening in the American theater. During the first act, stage props were missing. During the second and third acts, Romeo was not quite himself. However, by the end of the fourth act, even the stage hands were respectful and the company's hostility had disappeared. For a teenager, Mary Anderson had met her ordeal and she had won over her fellow actors and her audience. And as Romeo and Juliet drew to a close. Place this, place this, for the last scene. Mary, your place for the last scene. I'm supposed to stab myself, Mr. Macaulay, but someone has removed the dagger. Well, fake it, fake it, Mary. Use a hatpin, use anything. Yes, Mr. Macaulay. Hey, hey, hey, just a moment. Well, what's the matter with your hands? Oh, oh, nothing. The audience is waiting, sir. Well, why are you hiding your hands? Hold that curtain. Now, Mary, let's see those hands. It isn't anything at all. What? They are burnt. Someone must have started a fire in my dressing room. I had to put it out. Hey, it's quite a dramatic debut, isn't it, Mr. Macaulay? You mentioned that an actress needs to know a little pain. I think you were right. Good luck, honey. Curtain! The stony entrance of this sepulchre. What means these masterless and gory swords to lie discolored by this place of peace? The lady stirs. Oh, comfortable fire. Where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, and there I am. Where is my Romeo? A greater power than we can contradict have quartered our intents. Come, come away. Thy husband there lies dead. Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. Come. Go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay. Go. Get thee hence, for I will not away. What's here? A cup closed in my true love's hand. Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. Cheryl, drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. I will kiss thy lips, hath these some poison yet doth hang on them to make me die with a restorative. Thy lips are warm. Leave, boy, which way? Noise, then I'll be brief. Oh, happy dagger, this is thy sheath, and let me. I ain't her anymore. I'm not Juliet or Mary Anderson. I'm just Margaret O'Brien. But I feel like doing just what Mary did that night after her debut at Macaulay's. She went home, washed her face, and drank a glass of milk. And then she opened her big volume of Shakespeare and began to study the part of Rosalind and as you like it. Maybe that's why her name swept the country. And that's why in her day, she became the sweetheart of the American stage. If I had a wish, I would wish that I could be like Mary Anderson. We hope your wish will come true. Thank you. And our thanks to the Cavalcade players for tonight's story, Juliet in Figdales. Ladies and gentlemen, on October 11th at a special ceremony during the 30th annual convention of the American Legion Auxiliary in Los Angeles, the DuPont Cavalcade of America received for the second time the radio award of the Legion Auxiliary. Mrs. William Cashman, chairman of the National Radial Committee, presented the award to Cavalcade. And her remarks were recorded on that occasion. Mrs. Cashman. Thank you, Mr. Hamilton. In the well-founded conviction that the quality of any radio program is determined as much by the discriminating taste of its listeners as by that of its sponsors and producers, nearly 1 million members of the American Legion Auxiliary have engaged this year in a critical survey of those programs which are regularly brought into our homes by radio. As a climax to this study, American Legion Auxiliary members from coast to coast have voted Cavalcade of America as one of the three radio programs meeting the highest cultural and educational standards. And so in recognition of its leading role in providing consistently outstanding programs of inspirational, educational, and entertainment value, it gives me great pleasure to present to Cavalcade of America the 1950 radio award of the American Legion Auxiliary. Thank you, Mrs. Cashman. And to all the members of the American Legion Auxiliary, we of the DuPont Cavalcade express our appreciation and gratitude for this honor. Mrs. Cy Harris, reminding you that tonight marks the close of United Nations Week. Cavalcade joins the nation in saluting this great organization for world peace. Be with us next week when the star of the DuPont Cavalcade will be Loretta Young. Our DuPont play, the love story of Eliza McCartle and a young tailor, who was one day to become president of the United States. Tonight's DuPont play was written by Morton Wishingrad. Music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Vorys. The program was directed by John Zoller. Don't forget next week Loretta Young on the DuPont Cavalcade of America, which comes to you from the Belasco Theater in New York and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry.