The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont.
This evening DuPont presents dramatic incidents in the life of one of New England's most illustrious
men, the great mathematician Nathaniel Bowditch.
Before Bowditch's day, American ship masters had never excelled in navigation.
Ships found their way across the ocean with no accurate knowledge of their courses.
Bowditch was never satisfied with a superficial study of the problem at hand.
The careful precision that he exercised may be compared with the work of the research
chemist who finds his greatest reward in seeing the world benefit from his contributions to
the comforts and conveniences of civilization or as these contributions are expressed by
the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry.
As an overture, Don Voorhees and the DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra will bring us a special
setting of Sometimes I'm Happy from the musical comedy Hit the Deck.
The DuPont Cavalcade moves forward.
Nathaniel Bowditch was born in the seafaring village of Salem, Massachusetts, March 26,
1773.
When he was eight years old, an incident occurred which left a marked impression on him, which
undoubtedly pointed his future course as a mathematician and student.
We find him entering the kitchen of his home in Salem.
The young boy is sobbing bitterly and his mother greets him with alarm.
Nathaniel, Nathaniel, come here dear.
Tell mother what happened.
I didn't do it mother.
I didn't do it.
Didn't do what?
I didn't cheat arithmetic and I didn't lie to the teacher.
Cheat?
Cheat and lie?
Why of course not.
Has someone said you did?
Yes, the teacher.
He beat me because I wouldn't say I cheated, but I couldn't say it because it wasn't true.
Well I should say not.
Oh now please don't cry dear.
There, that's better.
Here, sit down here beside me now and tell me the whole story.
Well, Mr. Wood asked who could do a sum in the eighth grade arithmetic.
None of the big boys could do it.
I wasn't supposed to be listening, but I did the sum in a minute mother.
It was easy.
So I raised my hand and told him the answer.
A sum in eighth grade arithmetic, Miss Anno.
And you only in the fourth grade.
Yes, but Mr. Wood was angry.
He said no little boy who's only eight like me could do something like that.
He said I sneaked up and looked in his answer book.
Oh.
He made me go to the front of the room and he beat me because I told him I did the sum in my own head.
And all the big boys called me a liar and a cheat.
They chased me most of the way home.
This is a bitter lesson you've had to learn at such an early age dear.
But it's a lesson you'll be grateful for as you grow older.
A lesson mother?
Yes dear.
You'll learn someday that whenever you do anything a little better than the average,
whenever you have different ideas or more serious interests than your neighbors,
there'll be many who'll criticize you.
But Matt dear, you know in your own heart that you did that sum honestly, don't you?
Yes mother.
You like arithmetic better than anything else, don't you dear?
Better than anything but ships I guess.
Mother.
Yes dear.
Mother, if I could find an answer to a summit that wasn't in the teacher's answer book,
people would have to believe I did it in my own head, wouldn't they?
Yes darling, they'd have to believe it.
This lesson you've learned today will help you dear.
Never boast of what you can do or what you're going to do.
Remember Nat, deeds always speak louder than words.
Music
Nathaniel Bowditch never forgot that episode of his childhood.
Nor did he ever lose his fondness for mathematics.
At the age of ten, he was obliged to go to work and to continue his education alone at nights.
We meet Nat again when he is 21.
He is clerk and accountant in one of Salem's stores.
Two of the town's most distinguished citizens enter the shop,
Elias Derby, ship owner, and the sea captain Henry Prince.
The two men lean against the counter to continue their conversation,
and Nat listens eagerly for the conversation is of unusual interest to him.
That's serious news indeed, Mr. Derby.
You say the Massachusetts missed Java head entirely on this last boy?
Aye, Captain. The finest ship of Salem's fleet lost three weeks
because none of our officers could fix the position of the ship from day to day.
That delay was costly.
It was outdone in trading by a British ship.
Forgive me, Mr. Derby, for repeating what I've said so often,
but our American ships must have chronometers if we're going to start trading in the far corners of the earth.
We can't afford them, Captain. You know that chronometers cost a fortune.
Besides, I have little faith in them.
Then our officers must learn how to find longitude by some other method.
Aye, but how?
There's only one book of rules, and our Yankee skippers don't have sense enough to follow it.
All British seamen are guided by Moore's book on navigation.
Do you know how to follow Moore's calculations?
No, sir, and I never expect to.
It is a British book for British seamen, I say.
I'm content to guide my ships by dead reckoning.
Yes, dead reckoning is good enough for short trips to the West Indies,
but we're competing in trade with British and French ships.
We'll have to establish regular trade routes to India and China by the Cape of Good Hope.
I know that, sir.
Dead reckoning's not accurate.
It'll never carry ships to Canton and back on schedule.
This trip to the Massachusetts has proved that.
Unless some remedy is found, Captain, we Salem shipbuilders might as well turn to farming.
I agree with you. Dead reckoning's not good enough.
But I can't understand Moore's figures.
Excuse me, Captain Prince.
If I were given a chance, I believe I could navigate a ship around the world.
Bless my soul. It's on that body.
We're too busy, my lad, to listen to idle talk.
It might be wise to hear him, Mr. Derby.
He's the lad who surveyed an irregular piece of property at the age of 13.
They say he's a mathematical wizard.
Well, surveying's one thing, navigating's another.
Well, boy, how would you navigate a ship?
Well, I've been studying astronomy, Mr. Derby,
and two years ago I compiled an almanac which experts say is accurate in title and astronomical detail.
And I believe I can find longitude at sea by making lunar observations.
Oh, you do, do you?
Why, even the British officers can't do that.
They depend on Moore's calculations, and our Yankee skippers are too dull-witted to follow that book.
Excuse me, Mr. Derby, but I wouldn't advise any seaman to be guided by Moore's book.
Oh, you wouldn't. And why not pray?
I've studied the book carefully, sir, and I find that it's full of mistakes.
In fact, I've found 5,000 mistakes so far, and I expect there are many more.
What? A strip of a landlubber like you tells us that Moore's navigator has 5,000 mistakes? Preposterous.
I wonder if what the lad says isn't true.
Many times I've wondered about Moore's calculations.
Mr. Derby, you own most of Salem's ships.
Wouldn't you like them to follow a straight course across the ocean to be the fastest in the world?
Oh, don't pose stupid questions, young man. Why else do I build ships?
What do you propose that I do about it?
Let me go to sea with Captain Prince on his next voyage, sir.
I believe I can navigate your ship by making lunar observations.
I'll find longitude without a chronometer.
Yes, young man, do you know that one error in the observation brings a 30-fold error in the result?
That much I know about navigating by the moon and the stars.
I know that full well, Mr. Derby. All I ask is a chance.
Let me sail with Captain Prince.
I've done the theoretical work on paper, and I'm sure that I can prove that my knowledge is practical.
Is it the risk of losing one of my ships?
I... I trust not, Mr. Derby.
I'd like to test his theories, Mr. Derby.
Well, most likely it wouldn't do much harm for him to go along.
But remember, young man, Captain Prince has brought ships safe home to Salem by dead reckoning before you were born.
He's still captain of his ship.
Oh, yes, of course, sir. But you mean you'll let me go?
Well, take him along as clerk, Captain.
Aye, sir.
If he's good at figures, he can keep your records.
But mind you, young man, not a word to folks here in town about lunar observations or about the mistakes in Moore's book.
No, sir.
Why, if a British skipper should hear that one of my seamen said there were 5,000 mistakes in Moore's book, I'd be the laughing stock of the whole world.
Oh, you needn't worry, Mr. Derby.
I'll never say a word till I've proved everything I promised.
I won't even talk about it then.
I learned that lesson years ago.
Never boast of what you're going to do.
The results will speak for themselves.
Between the years 1795 and 1800, young Nat Bowditch made poor long trips with Captain Henry Prince,
and rumors began to drift back to Salem that the young bookworm was helping the captain navigate by studying the moon and the stars.
But two years later in 1802, when Nathaniel Bowditch published his book, The Practical Navigator,
with the announcement that there were 8,000 errors in the standard British book, Nat's hometown was still skeptical.
In that same year, 1802, in London, a Scotch sea captain named Murray just returned from Manila has been summoned to the office of the line.
The ship owner greets him sharply.
Captain Murray.
Aye, sir.
I'll not waste words, Captain.
Your ship was five weeks overdue from Manila, resulting in heavy losses and trade to us.
What is your explanation?
There was a Norris monsoon, sir.
They had to lay over at the Ile de France for two weeks.
We were guided by Moore's Navigator, as you know, sir, but it's apparent there was an error in Moore's calculations, or in ours.
Error?
Tommy Rock, we do not engage you to make errors, Captain Murray.
Serious rumors are reaching us.
Is it true that American ships from Salem are outstripping our vessels at every foreign port?
Aye, it is true, sir.
Within the past four years, Yankee skippers have learned how to navigate ships accurately.
And what, pray, is wrong with our British skippers?
What is wrong with you, Captain?
I inquired into the matter at Manila, sir.
I talked with a Captain Henry Prince from Salem.
When we docked at Manila, sir, I found a ship from Salem safely there in the harbor.
They'd reached port and faced the monsoon.
It was incredible.
Incredible? It's an outrage.
And did you learn from this Yankee how to navigate in face of a northeast monsoon?
Aye, that I did, sir.
I learned the secret.
Well, man, off with it. What is it?
Captain Prince told me he had a crew of twelve men, sir.
All of whom knew how to work a lunar observation as well as Sir Isaac Newton.
Impossible. Americans know nothing of lunar observations.
Aye, five years ago that was true, sir.
But today they know.
How did they learn?
A young man, a clerk to Captain Prince, has been teaching them, sir.
Why, he taught even the cook.
Nonsense. Yankee both.
I beg your pardon, sir.
To prove it, Captain Prince called his cook from the kitchen.
When I asked him if he could find longitude, he demonstrated perfectly.
It was amazing, sir.
And who is this young wizard who teaches a cook astronomy?
He bears a strange name, sir. It is Bowditch, Nathaniel Bowditch.
Later I talked with this Bowditch himself and he tells me that he has discovered 8,000 errors in Moore's book on navigation.
8,000 errors? Impossible.
Our seamen have been guided by the book for years. The French use it too.
Well, I am no mathematician, sir, but I have suspected there were errors in Moore.
Errors which have caused us serious delays.
And this young man has just published his own book with all Moore's errors corrected.
He calls it the Practical Navigator.
What?
That's the reason the American trading ships are outstripping us, sir.
And, uh, now if I, uh, might suggest, sir...
You'd suggest that we secure copies of this Yankee book.
Aye, sir. I'd give a year's pay to put my hands on this book of his.
Very well. You shall have it.
Every British sea captain must have it.
Did you learn where the blasted thing is printed?
In Cambridge, Massachusetts, sir.
I took particular care to find that out, thinking you might be interested, sir.
Interested? I hate to flatter them by ordering their book, but there's no help for it.
We need a thousand copies at once.
Why couldn't a British seaman have found out there were 8,000 errors in Moore's Navigator?
There was widespread jubilation in Cambridge and throughout America
when British and French orders and hundreds and thousands fought in
for Nathaniel Bowditch's book, The Practical Navigator.
And the same year, 1802, the young self-educated mathematician
was given an honorary degree at Harvard College.
Nat Bowditch had indeed proved to his hometown of Salem
that he had not cheated in arithmetic at the age of eight.
But there were still skeptics in Salem who maintained that his work was all theoretical,
for Bowditch had never sailed as skipper and master of a vessel.
It is Christmas Day in the year 1803.
A blinding snow is sweeping the village of Salem.
Captain Henry Prince, now retired, is standing by the window of his home
peering anxiously in the direction of the harbor.
Luke Timmons, another of Salem's retired seamen, is seated before the stove.
Take my advice, Captain. Mark that cargo down to dead loss.
You'll never see young Bowditch again or your ship neither.
I was a fool, an old fool, to invest half my capital in this script of Sumatra.
But I was so sure Nat could do it.
Most likely you'll believe me now.
I was told that Nat Bowditch was a dreamer, full of book learning,
but no more understanding of ships than my old hound.
He was with me on four voyages, Luke,
and never once did he fail to guide us to port, sprayed as a dye.
Yeah, but you was at the helm, weren't you?
Folks in Salem been calling you a darn fool for trusting young Nat with your cargo.
I think the skipper alive could bring a ship into harbor in a storm like this.
I fear you're right.
Poor Nat foundered off the coast, most likely.
And I am a ruined man.
Ruined? Nations about on a night like this.
Well, I see someone lost in the storm, no doubt.
Good evening, sir.
Why, Mrs. Bowditch, come in, come in.
Thank you.
Let me make the door fast against the snow, ma'am.
Why, what brings you out on such a night, ma'am?
I'm on my way to the wharf to meet Nat. Will you come with me?
To meet Nat? Well, you don't meet...
He hasn't made port.
Well, no, I haven't heard, but I'm sure he will be here tonight.
Come quickly, please. I wouldn't like to miss being there to welcome him.
But this is madness, ma'am.
No ship could reach port on such a night.
Snow so thick you can't see an inch ahead of your nose.
Captain Prince, Nat told me he'd reach Salem by Christmas at the latest.
Oh, will you come with me?
It's so difficult walking in the snow.
Best take off your wraps and warm yourself by the fire, ma'am.
Your husband won't get here this Christmas.
I'm sorry, I can't delay.
I promised to be on the wharf to meet him.
Won't you please come with me, Captain Prince?
Nat is so devoted to you.
He'd be disappointed if he didn't see you.
Well, ma'am, if you're set on walking down there, I'll go along with you.
You might get lost.
Just a second now, I'll wrap my wool scarf around my throat.
I'll get into my boots.
Fine way to pass a Christmas.
Walk in the Salem Wharf in a blinding snowstorm.
Here you go.
Thank you, ma'am. I can manage my coat.
Well, we'll be back before long, Luke.
You mind sitting here and keeping the fire blazing?
I ain't aiming to stir up this fire until the snow lets up, Captain.
Let me know when the ship reaches port.
But remember, the day of miracles is over.
Move up.
Hold fast to my arm, ma'am.
Or you'll blow away.
I've never seen so much wind with so much snow before.
I know you think I'm foolish, Captain Prince.
But somehow I'm sure that Nat will be here tonight.
Your husband's a bright young man, ma'am.
One of the brightest Salem ever saw.
Here, just watch your step there.
Yeah, but he oughtn't have made this trip a skipper.
He ain't used to it.
I know. I begged him not to do it, Captain.
He promised it'd be his last trip.
He's going to settle down to his books and studies when he gets home.
But he said he had to do this to prove to Salem and to the world
that his calculations are accurate,
that his formula is workable.
Oh, I know his knowledge is accurate, ma'am. Only...
You see, that's what Nat said.
But even you, who believed in him,
still depended on familiar landmarks.
He said you never quite trusted him to make port using his calculations alone.
Oh, he's heard the talk that's gone round about him.
Well, you see, ma'am, I know the landmarks.
I've trusted them all my life.
Yes, but suppose you were out there now,
heading for port on a night like this.
You couldn't see any landmarks tonight, could you?
There they were. Look out.
No skipper could bring a boat to harbor tonight.
Oh, then Nat must do it. He must.
I've prayed all day ever since the snow began.
Well, most likely he's dropped anchor out to sea, ma'am,
waiting till the storm dies.
That is, he hasn't foundered.
Oh, no, he's safe. I know he's safe.
Well, I hope so.
I declare the snow falls faster each minute.
It's the worst storm we've seen in years.
I'm very grateful to you for coming with me, Captain Prince.
I fear I never found my way here alone.
Take care of that, ma'am. Step slowly now.
It's going to be hard seeing where the wharf ends
and the water begins.
Captain, did you hear something?
Oh, yes, I thought I heard something.
Captain Prince, I heard it again.
Oh, hurry. Hurry.
It must be the putnam. It must be Nat's ship.
Oh, dear God, please let it be Nat's ship.
I can scarcely believe my ears.
That scout came from the wharf.
Oh, my name ain't Henry Prince.
Captain, isn't that a lantern?
Where?
Coming toward us.
Yes, yes, that's a lantern.
I hear voices, men's voices coming this way.
Listen.
I'd never have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.
Bringing a ship safe into the harbor in a blinding snowstorm.
Hello. Have you come from the putnam?
Yes, we're anchored in the harbor.
Mrs. Fodditch, what are you doing out here in this storm?
Are you Seaman from the putnam?
Aye, ma'am, that we are.
Your husband guided us to Salem Harbor this night.
Greatest skipper Salem ever saw.
Oh, he's safe, he's safe.
Sure, he's safe.
Oh, thank God.
And the crew and the cargo.
Hello, Captain Prince.
Aye, Captain Cargo and crew all safe.
We're home, men.
Home to Salem in time for Christmas.
Hey, can you tell us where Captain Bowditch is now?
He's coming along, Captain, in the other small boat.
Not far behind us.
Oh, I must see him.
Hello, hello.
No, Nathaniel.
Mary.
Oh, Nat, my dearest.
Oh, I'm so happy.
You shouldn't be out here in the snow, Mary.
I'm glad to see you, darling.
Uh, Captain Prince is here with me, Nat.
Oh, Captain.
I'm grateful to you for coming out on such a night.
I don't deserve your gratitude, my boy.
Your wife had more faith in you than I had.
I'm ashamed to say I didn't think you'd do it.
Why, my dear boy, you performed a miracle.
Just you wait till Salem hears of this.
Aye, that's what it was.
Captain Bowditch, I'd like to be the first to sign up with you on your next voyage.
We all feel that way, Captain Bowditch.
Aye, I'll sail into no other skip of it, Captain Bowditch.
Like Captain Prince says, a miracle was performed here tonight.
I'll thank you all to cease calling what I did tonight a miracle.
Someday you'll all be captains of your own ships.
You'll all bring your ships safe to harbor by making lunar observations.
I happened to know it could be done and proved it.
It was no miracle, men.
It was pure mathematics.
There was no further doubt that Nathaniel Bowditch had evolved a workable system of navigation.
In the years that followed, he undertook another and far more stupendous task,
a translation and commentary on the work of the great French astronomer Laplace,
a book which it was said less than a dozen scientists in the world could understand.
With the publication of this monumental work, which astounded scientists throughout the world,
he secured undying fame for himself and for America.
Today, his books are still among the standard texts on navigation,
and he merits a high place of honor in the cavalcade of America.
All through history, man has tried to go places quickly and surely, and here's his latest effort.
Shortly after four o'clock this morning, a brand new highway was opened under the Hudson River.
Right now, automobiles are traveling from New Jersey to midtown Manhattan in four minutes
by means of the new Lincoln Tunnel, which connects the town of Weehawken with 39th Street in New York City.
Only one tube has been completed so far.
When the second is finished sometime in 1940, each of the tubes will carry one-way traffic,
but it's estimated that even the present single tube will be used by more than six million motorists during the coming year.
Plunging under the Hudson as straight as a string to the opposite shore,
this new tunnel extends more than a mile and a half from portal to portal.
Under the river, the Lincoln Tunnel was pushed through mud,
but at the Jersey Shore it was necessary to pierce the solid rock cliff of the Palisades.
Here, DuPont Dynamite was called upon to blast through the rock.
Building the tunnel gave jobs to a weekly average of 1,300 workmen,
who received a total payroll of nearly $9 million.
In addition, it is estimated that the tunnel furnished employment for two and a half times as many men working on the outside.
And still, there's much work to be done.
A great deal more cutting through rock will be necessary to complete a great, sunken highway,
130 feet wide and about 40 feet below street level,
that will carry tunnel traffic through three New Jersey cities to connect with main roads.
Chemistry is on the job there too, for DuPont Dynamite is at work excavating all that rock.
With all its magnitude, this tunnel is only one part of a great engineering project.
In a direct line with the Lincoln Tunnel on the other side of New York City,
another new tunnel is being driven under the East River to Long Island City.
This tube, called the Queens Midtown Tunnel, has to be bored through rock practically all the way.
And even with the aid of modern blasting agents, it's not due to be finished until 1940.
As you may have guessed by now, the engineers are planning to build a third tunnel right across New York City,
to connect the Lincoln Tunnel under the Hudson with a Queens Midtown Tunnel under the East River.
When the whole thing is a reality, you'll be able to go from New Jersey to Long Island in something like 15 minutes,
passing under two great rivers and the greatest city in the world.
The construction of these three great projects again calls to mind the amazing usefulness of this wonder worker of chemistry,
dynamite, which helps to build our highways, dams and tunnels, mine our coal and ore, and clear our land for farming.
In creating safe and effective blasting agents to make way for progress, research chemists once more bear out the DuPont pledge,
better things for better living through chemistry.
Music
Even though it's a few days early, all of us connected with the cavalcade of America wish our radio audience a Merry, Merry Christmas.
Because of many requests, we will celebrate the holiday season next Wednesday by repeating the story of the beloved singer,
Ernestine Schumann-Heinck, with the same cast as last year, including Miss Helen Oldheim,
famous contralto of the Metropolitan Opera House, singing the role.
When next week at the same time, DuPont again presents the Cavalcade of America.
Music
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
Music