Indiana State Road 301

Transcription

♫ (Music) ♫ Here is a town, it lies on the banks of a quiet river, but where would you say it is? Is it somewhere in France? Or is it a village on the Thames? Are these the waters of the Danube? Or the Volga? Is it a village in Norway? Or is it in Czechoslovakia? Does this walk lead to the shores of a blue Austrian lake? Where is this town, where you can find an old English tower... An Italian campanile... down the street a Gothic doorway... Where slate roofs look down on the columns of Ancient Greece? And where you'll find a Renaissance fountain at one end of town... And at the other a Roman temple? As you may have guessed, this is a town in the United States of America. This English tower guards a fraternal hall and a furniture store. And in the Italian campanile hang the bells that send the fire department on its way. While the Greek columns are part of the commercial life. ????, host to the children on a hot afternoon. The United States was created by men who came from the four corners of the Earth. John Petrakis, the confectioner, can still remember the city in Greece, where he was born. Johnny Maguire (sp) works on the newspaper. His grandfather came from Ireland. The Dutch have been here since the 17th century. Mr. G???, a descendent, is county agent for the farmers. Mr. V??? arrived from Germany more than half a century ago. But his friend, Mrs. Antel, was born here, and hasn't left the place in all her 82 years. Young Catilo's (??) been here all his life, too. But he shares his taste for Italian food with the rest of the family. The name of that town is: Madison. It lies on the Ohio River, in the midwestern state of Indiana. It was named after James Madison, fourth President of the United States, who is known as the Father of the American Constitution. Like thousands of similar communities, Madison draws its life from the fields and farms that surround it. On Saturday morning, the farmer's wife brings the eggs from the hen house. The farm truck is loaded. For here, as it is in many other lands, Saturday is market day. Around the court house, they've been holding an open market every Saturday for the past hundred years. This farmer, Mr. Fighter (??), stands by a scale as his forefathers stood in a market square in Central Europe. In Madison, buying a bag of tomatoes still remains a highly personal affair. Main Street. The heart of every American town. It was laid out in the days of the covered wagon. As part of a highway which runs from the Atlantic to the Pacific. There is plenty of room here. Room for the individual to expand. To plan for himself and his children. Room for initiative and enterprise. ♫ Carousel music ♫ At night, Main Street becomes a meeting place for farmers and townspeople. The most popular place in every American town is the corner drugstore. It's the American equivalent of a pub, or café, or rathskeller. And of course, on Saturday night, the school orchestra gives its concert. (mix of music being played, by orchestra) Sunday, the day for worship. The people who came from all over the world brought their churches with them. All faiths have found a place here. No one interferes with the others' journey to heaven or to hell. Now, here's a fellow who thinks he's not going to one destination or the other. He's going fishing. And though his boy prefers church this Sunday morning, there's little time wasted in argument. Monday means work again. And school. It is free to all the children of the community. And compulsory. To each is given an equal opportunity to learn. Part of the course is the history of man's struggle to govern himself. His defeats. And such great victories as Magna Carta, the French Bill of Rights, and the Declaration of Independence. And the children are taught other languages, to equip them to become better citizens of the world. Here sit the mayor, the councilman, and the voters of the next generation. When the time comes, they will know how to live together as well as today they play together. In towns such as these, a great part of the community budget is devoted to the children. The chief interest is in human beings. The games children play may not be the same in different parts of the world, but the spirit of childhood is universal and unchanging. The end of schooling is not the end of learning. In the public library the accumulated knowledge of the ages is available to all. ♫ Fun, spirited music ♫ Sooner or later, everyone comes to the library. Here can be found old ideas and new. To be read and argued about. For the most flourishing trade in this town is the traffic in opinions, and that's been the business of the town's newspaper for over a century. Today it disagrees on many domestic issues with the current administration in Washington, and speaks its mind. A reader writes in to attack the paper's policy. And that's printed, too. The presses roll. And this respect for the other man's point of view is reflected in the way the town governs itself. This is the mayor. The people hire him and the people fire him. He's their servant and he's proud of that honor. And if there's trouble, it's settled at a public trial... in the sight and presence of the people. His majesty, the common man. It is he who elects the judge. It is he who elects the public prosecutor. The laws of trial by jury as they originated in England are carried out in this court. These twelve men and women, peers of the defendant, were called from their everyday interest to serve. They accept this as one of the obligations of self-government. The judge smiles. He and the prosecutor are now serving the community together. Yet, he remembers that political campaign when the same prosecutor said some pretty strong things against the judge. He even said he wasn't fit for office. But the people had the last word when election came around. They were all there to cast their votes as they saw fit. The man who runs the drugstore and the lady who makes the hats. The farmer and the prosecuting attorney himself. In free countries, the only thing that's secret is the ballot. This is the town. And these are its people. People whose fathers brought to the banks of a river in the new world the culture and heritage of the old. Who now, have sent their sons back across the seas to join the sons of all the peoples who fight for freedom. To make this town, and all towns like it, wherever they may be... free and and secure forever. ♫ Music ♫ ♫ strong cymbals clang ♫