Robert Young in a story of medical conquest.
Resetting the battle to stay alive, starring Robert Young on the cavalcade of America,
sponsored by the DuPont Company.
A number of better things for better living through chemistry.
First, here is Gain Whitman.
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Robert Young appears tonight through the courtesy of Metro Golden Mayor,
producers of the all-star picture, Weekend at the Waldorf.
The DuPont Company presents The Battle to Stay Alive,
starring Robert Young as the narrator on The Cavalcade of America.
This is a story of conquest, of the conquest of disease, of the conquest of epidemics.
Our story starts in the Dark Ages.
In a village, it could be any village in Europe.
The Burgermaster is speaking to one of the untouchables of the community, a leper.
I forbid thee to enter into the church, the abbey, the mill, or the marketplace.
Dost thou heed, leper?
I heed thee, sire.
I forbid thee to wash thy hands at the public fountain or to drink there.
Dost thou heed?
I heed thee, sire.
I forbid thee to touch little children.
Dost thou heed, leper?
I heed thee, sire.
Now take thou these gloves and this bell.
Go now, away from the paths of men, away from the town and the cities,
for thou art contaminated by evil spirits.
Away, stay away, I come.
Disease, disease, disease.
It's a strange thing, hard to believe today,
that the overwhelming majority of the human race died convinced that disease was caused by the evil influence of supernatural powers.
Demons, invisible spirits.
In the jungle days, a shadow was not a shadow, but a spirit following you.
An echo was a devil keeping track of you through your sounds, and the world was a place of terror.
That, that is a devil, number 677, I believe, in the primitive listings.
Thank you, 677, you may go now.
Don't laugh, you out there listening, even if you don't believe in devils,
even if not once in your entire lifetime have you said,
Laura, I feel wonderful, haven't had a backache in six months, guess I better knock on wood.
Even if you've never said,
Sounds like a smart move, Jim, and we ought to make a barrel of money, but I got my fingers crossed.
Or this.
Well, when I need a new caddy.
Hey boy, give me those gloves, go away, beat it, you're a jinx, a jinx.
Well, that's how it was in the old days.
They believed in jinxes and they crossed their fingers and they knocked on wood,
even as you and I, with one difference.
When there was an epidemic of malaria or yellow fever, they didn't blame it on a mosquito,
they blamed it on the devil.
So much for ancient history.
Or would you like a little more?
Perhaps you'd like to know what the wise men were saying along about the time Columbus discovered America.
In Germany, for instance.
They say epidemics of disease are caused by myasmas or bad air,
which appear over the earth for unknown reasons.
In Italy.
I say they arise from a lack of balance between the four basic properties of hot, cold, moist, and dry within the human body.
And in England.
What is good enough for my grandfather is good enough for me.
I put my shilling on the devil's.
That's what they were saying, these wise men.
A hundred years later, at a Congress of Physicians, Dr. Kertcher,
protege of popes and emperors, stepped forward with an incredible theory.
Mr. President, my lords, gentlemen, my name, as you all know, is Athanasius Kirscher.
I say the cause of this epidemic is worms.
These little parasites propagated within the human body are so small, so slender, and so subtle as to elude all our senses,
being revealed only by the most powerful of microscopes.
Dr. Kertcher had something there.
Unfortunately, he didn't know when to stop.
Furthermore, I say these living creatures of disease are spontaneously generated.
In other words, they have no immediate ancestry.
They create themselves out of decayed matter.
Of course, it has been recognized for centuries that a certain strata of animal life creates itself.
Not only worms, but fishes, snakes.
Who laughs, please?
I said, who laughs?
I do.
Francesco Redi, doctor in medicine and philosophy.
You do not believe these worms create themselves?
No.
If I told you I had witnessed this miracle many times, what would you say?
I would say that you have been seeing things.
I do not believe you.
Gentlemen, gentlemen.
Dr. Redi, I have seen worms in the blood of patients suffering from the plague.
Maybe yes, and maybe no.
I myself have seen these parasites spontaneously generated many times.
I do not believe you.
I must demand proof, senor doctor.
You, Herr Dr. Redi, have you not seen maggots spawned by decayed meat?
Does that mean the maggots arrive without the benefit of papa and mama?
Precisely, Herr Dr. Redi.
As I have said, by spontaneous generation.
I do not believe it.
If a piece of decayed meat all by itself can produce maggots,
then why can't a dying elephant give birth to nightingales?
Gentlemen, gentlemen.
Dr. Redi, you are going too far.
I challenge you, Herr Dr. Redi, to prove my theories first.
Very well, senor Dr. Kurcher.
I shall prove you are alive.
And Francesco Redi went back to his laboratory in Florence,
convinced that the great Dr. Kurcher had made a fantastic mistake.
No living thing could create itself.
His good hard common sense told him so.
And yet, there remained the proof.
He called in his assistant.
Vincenzo, Vincenzo, we go to work.
Si, senor Dr. Redi.
You still have those rabbits you caught this morning?
Si, senor Dr. Redi.
Ah, very good.
Put the dead rabbits in a cask in the sun.
In one week, go back and look at them.
Tell me what you find.
I was a fool to let myself be trapped by that artful Dr. Kurcher.
He should be proving his impossible theory.
Instead, I find myself compelled to disprove his theory,
or be made a laughing stock.
Ah, ah, Vincenzo.
Senor Tottori, the rabbits, they have maggots.
Ah, so?
That means dead rabbits, if left in the sun, are attacked by worms.
Where do the worms come from?
I do not know yet.
Ah, Vincenzo, do you have more rabbits?
No, no, senor.
No.
When I went to your kitchen a little while ago, I thought I smelled...
But senor Tottori, what you smelled was my dinner.
Why don't you understand this is an experimental science?
I don't have rabbits for dinner.
But you don't like rabbits.
That has nothing to do with it.
Now look, take those rabbits out of the pot.
Put them in a clean cask.
Set it in the sun.
Then tie some fine gauze over the top.
Be sure you cover it completely all around.
Then go back in a week and take a look.
Senor Tottori, senor Tottori, the rabbits, they have no maggots.
Mm-hmm.
Describe the rabbits.
They are in the same state of decay as the others, but there are no maggots.
Mm-hmm.
And what does that prove?
It proves I didn't have rabbits for dinner one night last week.
It proves, idiot, that maggots are not produced by the meat itself.
Where do they come from then?
I will tell you in one moment.
Did you see any blowflies?
Oh, see, both times.
With the first cask and today.
Ah, exactly.
In the first instance, the flies, attracted by the decaying meat, laid their eggs right on it.
The result?
Maggots.
In the second instance, there were no eggs on the meat.
See?
But there were hundreds of them on the gauze, proving that the gauze kept them out of the meat.
And that maggots are therefore not produced by decaying matter,
but are brought through the air by flies which lay the eggs, which in turn become the maggots.
Hmm.
Vincenzo, lay out my best coat.
Tonight, I pay a call on Dr. Kurcher.
Reddy's experiment effectively proved that no living thing creates itself
and helped discredit this new theory of worms as the cause of epidemic disease.
But what of Dr. Kurcher?
Did he really see worms, as he called them, in the blood of a man dying of a plague?
If he did, he was hundreds of years ahead of his time.
Hundreds of years in which hundreds of millions of lives were lost,
as the plague swept over Europe and the world.
The plague, the plague.
In this enlightened age of the 17th century, is there nothing we can do to stop this epidemic?
The plague sweeps from one country to another and from one house to another,
and the one that gets it today is always just next door to the one that had it yesterday.
What is the cause of this plague that brings death wherever it strikes?
I am a doctor, citizen.
This plague is spread by contagion.
If you would escape this contagion, isolate yourself.
Quarantine is your best chance.
Quarantine? From whom shall I isolate myself?
How do I know who's got the disease and who hasn't?
Sometimes you don't even know when you have it yourself until it's too late.
I can only tell you to isolate yourselves.
If the plague strikes, then you must prepare to die.
Thank you very much, doctor, for nothing.
Yes, they found out about contagion, one of the three great causes of epidemic disease.
What they didn't know was all diseases are not alike,
and quarantining a house might work with measles,
but wouldn't be any use at all in case of yellow fever.
The millions continue to die.
In 1854, less than a hundred years ago, there occurred a severe outbreak of cholera in London.
The health commissioner was attacked in the newspapers.
He carried his troubles to young Dr. John Snow, an expert on the subject of epidemics.
John, you've got to do something. Hang it all. I don't know which way to turn.
Commissioner, I've been pinpointing the addresses of those who died on this spot map.
Have a look. As far as I know, it's the first time anybody's ever used a map like this in the study of an epidemic.
Show some interesting data.
Oh, really?
For instance, over 500 people have died with an radius of 250 yards on Broad Street.
Well, it just means it's contagious. They catch it from each other.
I don't think so. I've checked, and many of the victims never knew, saw, or spoke to the others.
No, I'm afraid we'll have to look somewhere else for the explanation.
But where?
I'm not sure, but I have an idea.
We must find out the one object, if it is an object, that is the mutual killer of all these people.
Brewery hands, bricklayers, and oh yes, I forgot to mention, a nice old lady who until this morning lived right next door to you.
Next door to me? Good heavens!
You are listening to Robert Young as the narrator in the dramatic story, The Battle to Stay Alive, on the cavalcade of America,
sponsored by the Japan Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry.
London in 1854, plagued by an outbreak of cholera.
Young Dr. John Snow, who was a cautious man with an opinion, went to the center of the epidemic.
There on Broad Street, he began his investigation at the Neighborhood Well.
Well, doctor, are you going to play the fine gentleman and help a poor old woman work the pump?
The pump? Oh yes.
I'll hold my bucket then.
How do you account for the fact that you, of all your family, are the only one untouched by the plague?
May happen because I don't drink what the others do.
And what do they drink?
Water.
And what do you drink?
Oh, I've got a preference for other beverages.
You don't drink water and you are not ill, while those of your family who do drink water from this well are down with a cholera.
I, I.
And madam, I must borrow your bucket.
No, I don't.
I'm very sorry, madam. I must have it. Good day, madam.
Come back, stop, thief. The blighter's running off with my bucket.
It's unbelievable. I never heard of such a thing.
Why, that pump's been there for 200 years and nobody ever got cholera from it before. It's polluted now.
Polluted, you say? Well, how did it get that way?
Probably from the sewage in the river.
And you think anybody who drinks water from that well will come down with cholera?
Would you like to try a glass? I have a sample here.
No, no, no, thanks. I see one house on your map which is entirely surrounded by buildings where deaths have occurred.
But nobody has died in that particular house. Now how do you account for it?
That house has its own private well.
Yes, but wait a minute now. What about the old lady who lived next door to me?
I inquired about her myself. She was an invalid, hadn't left the house in years.
That's the strangest part of all. Turns out that that old lady lived near Broad Street when she was a girl a long time ago, I imagine.
She developed a fondness for water from that particular well, Silubrious she called it.
For 40 years now she's had a barrel of it carted up to her place every week.
I'm convinced. I'll have that pump blown up with explosives inside of an hour.
Not necessary. Just take the handle off. It's quicker.
That's exactly what they did. They took the handle off the Broad Street pump.
From that day on that cholera epidemic was history.
And so pollution, the second of the three great causes of epidemic disease, was made known to the world.
First, contagion by personal contact. Second, pollution.
There still remained a third great destroyer of human lives.
The enigma of the transmission of disease by insects remained unsolved until a great many individual contributions were made
by the men of a new field of medical science, microbiology.
Men like Pasteur, Koch, and a surgeon named Lister.
However, it remained for an American, Theobald Smith, working in our own Department of Agriculture,
to open the door and make the discovery that pointed to another way in the conquest of epidemic disease.
Smith, you ever hear of Texas fever?
No, I don't think I have.
Oh, wait a minute, yes. It affects cattle, doesn't it?
That's it. It kills them off in about a month.
Well, it's broken loose again all over the country, epidemic proportions.
And what do we know about it?
Practically nothing.
Southern cattlemen buy northern cows and ship south.
When they arrive, they're healthy. They're put to graze with southern cows.
About a month later, they're dead.
The northern?
Yes, but that's only half of it. Northern cattlemen buy southern cows.
Cows are shipped north, arrive healthy. They're put to graze with northern cows.
Then what happens?
The southern cows die.
Not at all. The northern ones.
Well, pretty, isn't it?
Well, anything to go on? Any clues, any ideas, any hints?
Not a thing. I'm turning it over to you. The department expects results.
You can have Kilburn as your assistant.
Music
Before they went to work, Smith and Kilburn consulted all available expert opinion on cow disease.
It was somewhat contradictory.
Texas fever is spread by the saliva of the cows.
Texas fever is spread by polluted water, like cholera.
Texas fever is caused by bacillus.
Texas fever may or may not be caused by bacillus, but it is not spread by saliva or polluted water.
With this kindly advice ringing in his ears,
Theobald Smith proceeded to dissect dead cows.
He found millions of microbes in every one. That, at least, was definite.
Next, he went out into the field. He talked to the cattlemen.
Well, now there's one thing I scared them to know.
Maybe you're like all those other experts, though, not interested in any opinion that ain't according to the book.
I'd be more than interested in anything you've got to tell me.
You won't laugh, like them others?
I promise you, I won't laugh.
Okay, here it is. Ticks.
Ticks? You mean insects?
Well, I guess a tick is a kind of insect.
Anyhow, that's what causes Texas fever.
Because every cow that dies has ticks. And loaded with them.
Let me get this straight. The northern cows come down here. Do they have ticks then?
No. Not until they graze in the same fields as our own cows.
Then they get them fast. Then they die.
Oh, I see. I suppose you've been told that the bite of an insect has never been known to transmit epidemic disease?
Well, that's what the experts say. I only know what I see.
Well, maybe you've got something there.
There's one thing more. Your own southern cows. Do they have ticks, too?
They got them.
But they don't die?
Nope. They don't die.
Well, that complicates it, all right.
It certainly did.
In addition, as Smith said, no insect had ever been known to communicate disease.
But there always had to be a first time. It was worth trying, anyhow.
Gilborn, those southern cows arrive yet?
Several of them. All loaded down with ticks, but otherwise healthy. What'll I do with them?
Put four in field number one. With them, put six northern cows, healthy ones.
Next, we take the other three southern cows and remove every tick on and under their hides.
Set them down in field number two. And with them, we put four healthy northern cows.
I'm listening.
Then we wait. In about a month, the first batch of northern cattle will catch the ticks and die.
The second four won't catch any ticks because there aren't any.
Then if they die, we'll know we're on the wrong track.
But if they don't, we'll know the answer is ticks.
The second batch did not die, and the Texas cattlemen were right.
The next step was, what kind of assassin was it that the ticks shot into the cows?
Smith focused his microscope on the blood of the diseased northern sear and found a pear-shaped microbe.
Here was the killer. The beer ball Smith was also a cautious man. He had to be sure.
Gelburn, we've proved that four northern cows in the same field with southern cows that have had the ticks removed remain healthy.
Right, chief.
Has it occurred to you that these four might be immune?
Well, look. Take two of those four and put them in field number one, with the southern cows with the ticks,
the same ones that already killed six northern cows.
If they catch ticks and die, then we'll know we're right.
They caught the ticks and they died.
The problem was solved, but what if?
What about the other half of the riddle, the southern cows? They had ticks, didn't they? Why didn't they die?
Yeah, that's what's bothering me, chief. What about those southern cows?
Well, now let's break it down. As calves, they were put out to graze in fields infested with ticks.
Right. They grow up into yearlings and then heifers with plenty of ticks but no Texas fever.
Maybe their blood is different. Maybe they are immune.
Cure, boy. I think we've got it.
Suppose they got a mild dose of it when they were calves. It would immunize them.
Maybe when they were young, the disease is milder and sets up an immunity like a vaccination.
Hey, where are you going? I'm going to load a couple of northern calves.
Calves, not cows, with all the ticks their hives will hold.
If they don't die, it's the missing link. The trip will check, and then we'll tell it to the world.
The calves came down with a mild attack of Texas fever, but soon recovered and lived to a ripe old age, forever immune.
It wasn't only then that Theobald Smith made known his discovery to the world.
Thus it was that an American bacteriologist supplied the clue to the riddle of the third and perhaps greatest cause of epidemic disease, transmission by insects.
Within a few years, his discovery was made use of by David Brute, who found that the titsy fly was the carrier of sleeping sickness.
By Ross and Grassey, with their Anopheles mosquito and malaria.
And by a major in the United States Army, Walter Reed, who uncovered another mosquito as the carrier of the yellow fever germ.
Now the story is complete. Or is it?
What we know today is that epidemic disease is spread by personal contact, pollution, or by insect carrier.
Of these three and only these three are we certain.
But who knows if there isn't a fourth or even a fifth cause of epidemic disease.
Even now, at this very moment, men of science go on peering into their cultures, seeking knowledge in the realm of the unknown, continuing man's conquest of disease.
You men of science, do not let yourselves be discouraged by a deprecating and barren skepticism.
Do not be disheartened by the sadness of certain hours which pass over nations.
Live and work in the serene peace of laboratories and libraries, secure in the knowledge that you are contributing to the progress of humanity, and are aiding mankind in the battle to stay alive.
Our star, Robert Young, will return in just a moment to our Capulcade microphone.
Now here is Gaines Whitman.
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PurClean and TriClean dry cleaning fluids are among DuPont's better things for better living through chemistry.
And now, here is the star of tonight's DuPont cavalcade, Robert Young.
There's an old American adage that runs something like this.
The difficult we do immediately, the impossible just takes a little longer.
That may be one way of explaining the phenomenal growth of American air strength from a handful of men in planes before Pearl Harbor to the most powerful air armada in the world.
Next week, cavalcade will tell the story that could not be told before, the story of the creation of the AAF, the American Air Force, the greatest striking power in the world.
Pat O'Brien will be the star.
Don't forget next week on the DuPont cavalcade, 200,000 Flyers, starring Pat O'Brien.
Cavalcade programs of particular interest to servicemen and women are broadcast overseas through the worldwide facilities of the Armed Forces radio service.
The music for tonight's DuPont cavalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Armbruster.
Our cavalcade play was written by Arthur Arendt.
This is Tom Collins inviting you to listen next week to Pat O'Brien in 200,000 Flyers on the cavalcade of America, brought to you by the DuPont company of Wilmington, Delaware.
This is the nice little broadcast being covered.