As the last few Guests enter the theater, the Cast Member makes a few kind reminders about the food and drink and photograph policies, and then starts the show. With a brassy fanfare, the red curtain parts, to reveal layer upon layer of curtains beneath. The procession stops short of opening them all, as a screen is lowered and a brief historical slide show begins.

By my rivers gently flowing Illinois, Illinois
by my prairies fed and growing Illinois, Illinois
comes an echo on the breeze
rustling through the native trees
and its mellow tones are these Illinois, Illinois
and its mellow tones are these Illinois.

But with out thy wond'rous story Illinois, Illinois
can be writ the nation's glory Illinois, Illinois.
On the record of thy years
Abr'am Lincoln name appears
and end darkness and our tears Illinois, Illinois
and end darkness and our tears Illinois.

Illinois: Land of Lincoln. It was in New Salem that the young Lincoln worked as a clerk and postmaster. It was in Vandalia that he severed in Legislature. It was in the towns and villages - Freeport, Galesburg, Quincy, Alton, Jonesboro, Charleston and Ottawa - that he engaged Stephen A. Douglas in a series of debates on the slavery question.

The screen shows a scene from the Lincoln-Douglas debates. Both politicians are shown on a raised platform painted with the colors of our national banner. In the audience, all classes of men and women listen carefully to the Lincoln's oration.

The repeal of the Missouri compromise was the burning issue of the day - whether to let slavery spread into Kansas and Nebraska.

Douglas: "I don't care if slavery is voted up, or voted down."

Man: "You tell 'em Doug!

Another Man: "Douglas, you're right!"

Douglas: "You know I'm right, friend."

Third Man: "Here comes Abe Lincoln! Give it too 'em good, Abe!"

Lincoln: "Judge Douglas says he, he doesn't care whether slavery is voted up, or voted down.

Man: "Neither do we, Lincoln, you know-nothing!"

Lincoln: "Well friend, I, I may not know much. But I think I know right from wrong. Now you say that you don't care whether slavery is voted up or down. Well, any man can say that, who doesn't see anything wrong in slavery. But no man can logically say it who does see wrong in it. Because no man can logically say he doesn't care whether wrong is voted up or down. I say this government can not endure permanently half slave and half free. A house divided against itself cannot stand."

Man: "That's what you think, you long drink 'a water!"

Lincoln: "Yes, my friend. That's what I think. That is the real issue. That is the issue that will continue in this country when these poor tongues of Judge Douglas and myself shall be silent."

Douglas: "Well, now, y'all know that I am an amiable, good natured man and I take great pleasure in bearing testimony to the fact that Mr. Lincoln is a kind hearted, amiable, good natured gentlemen whom no man has a right to pick a quarrel even if he wanted one. I have known Mr. Lincoln for twenty-five years, and there is no better citizen.

Lincoln: "As the Judge has complimented me, I must confess to my weaknesses. I am not very much accustomed to flattery, and it comes a -sweeter to me. I'm rather like the, the hoosier with a gingerbread, when he said that he reckoned that he loved it better than any other man, and he got less of it.

The witnesses of this debate laugh at Lincoln's witty comments and folksy nature. As the chuckles die down, Douglas continues his hearlier comments.

Douglas: "As I say, I have no known Mr. Lincoln for twenty-five years. He is a fine lawyer, possesses high ability, and there is no objection to him. Except the monstrous revolutionary doctrines which he conscientiously entertains, and is determined to carry out if he gets the power."

Another Man: "Don't worry. He won't get it. Never. Naw, never. Not that hillbilly rail-splitter!"

Douglas: "Right, and I tell you that this doctrine of Lincoln's - declaring that men made equal by the Declaration of Independence and by divine providence - is a monstrous heresy!"

Lincoln: "My countrymen, if you have been taught doctrines conflicting with those great landmarks of the Declaration of Independence, if you have listened to suggestions that would take away it's grandeur, if you are inclined to believe that all men are not created equal in those inalienable rights enumerated by our chart of liberty, let me entreat you to come back. Think nothing of me. Take no thought of the political fate of any man whatsoever. But come back to the truths that are in the Declaration of Independence. You may do anything with me you choose, if you will but heed these sacred principles. You may not only defeat me for the senate, but you may take me out and put me to death. Do not destroy that immortal emblem of humanity. If that Declaration is not the truth, let us get the statute book in which we find it and tear it out."

The crowd gasps in shock at this prospect, and several voice their objection to such an idea. A few men in the crowd angrily shout at Abraham Lincoln, but soon are quieted as he continues.

"Who is so bold to do it?"

Man: "No one"

Another man: "I won't"

Third man: "Not I"

Lincoln: "If it is not true, let us tear it out!"

Man: "No!"

Third man: "No!"

Another Man: "Never!!"

Lincoln: "Then let us stick to it then, and let us stand firmly by it."

Recognizing the truth to Lincoln's speech, the crowd begins to applaud.

In the election of 1860, there were those who felt Lincoln merited consideration as a candidate for the presidency. One of these was a man named Jessie Fell, who asked Lincoln to write out his autobiography, for at that time very few people outside Illinois knew very much about this man from the prairie. Here, in part, is what Lincoln had to say about himself:

"I was born February 12th, 1809, in Hardin County, Kentucky. My mother, who died in my tenth year, was of a family of the name of Hanks. My paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, emigrated from Rottingham County, Virginia to Kentucky about 1781 or -2 where, a year or two later, he was killed by indians - not in battle but by stealth, when he was laboring to open a farm in the forest. My father, at the death of his father, was but six years of age, and he grew up literally without education. He removed from Kentucky to what is now Spencer County, Indiana, in my eight year. It was a wild region, with many bears and wild animals still in the woods. And there I grew up.

"We settled in unbroken forest, and the clearing away of surplus wood was a great task ahead. I was large for my age, and had an axe put into my hands at once. And from that to my twenty-third year was almost constantly handling that most useful instrument ... less of course in plowing and harvesting seasons. I went to ABC school by littles. I think that the aggregate of all my schooling did not amount to one year. What I have in the way of education, I have picked up. I studied English Grammar, so as to speak and write well, and I nearly mastered the six books of Euclid.

"At twenty-one, I came to Illinois. At New Salem, I studied what I should do. Thought of learning the blacksmith trade. Thought of trying to study law. Rather thought I could not succeed at that without better education. I borrowed law books, took them home, and went at it in good earnest. In the autumn 1836, I obtained a law license, removed to Springfield and commenced practice.

"In 1846, I was elected to the lower House of Congress. Was not a candidate for reelection. In 1854, the law profession almost superseded the thought of politics in my mind, when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise aroused me as I had never been before. And what I have done since then is pretty well known.

"If any personal description of me is logged desirable, it may be said I am in height six feet four inches... nearly. Lean in flesh, weighing on an average of one-hundred-eighty pounds. Dark complexion, with course black hair and gray eyes. And no other marks or brands recollected.

Yours very truly,
A. Lincoln"

It was from Illinois and his prairie beginnings that Lincoln went on to become the sixteenth president of the United States, perhaps the greatest president the nation has ever had. As he boarded the train that would take him from Springfield to the White House, he addressed an affectionate and strangely prophetic farewell to his fellow townspeople:

"My friends, no one not in my situation can appreciate my feelings of sadness at this parting. To this place, and the kindness of these people, I owe everything. Here I have lived for a quarter for a century, and have passed from a young man to an old man. Here, my children have been born, and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I will return, with a task before me greater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of that divine being that ever attended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance, I cannot fail. Trusting in Him who can go with me, and remain with you, and be everywhere for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be won. To His care commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend me, I bid you an affectionate farewell."

Lincoln's train huffs a loud whistle, signaling its departure. With bells ringing, and whistles continuing, the engine chugs off into the distance.

Abraham Lincoln became President faced with the terrible threat of Civil War, a thing he dreaded, yet a calamity he was prepared to meet if he must.

The theater is filled with the percussive roar of cannon fire. On the screen above, images of the bloody Civil War are shown.

April 12th, 1861, Fort Sumpter. The cannons spoke for war; Civil War. Violent. Devastating. Now had come the reckoning, the supreme test that would decide whether a republic founded on liberty could survive the terrible strife of men's passions.

As another volley of cannon fire echoes throughout the room, the orchestra cues up a brutal march. The violent sounds of war continue through the musical interlude, as image after image of the devastating war flash across the screen.

"November 2nd, 1863

Dear Mr. President,
You are cordially invited to participate in this ceremony of dedication at Gettysburg, and after the oration, to set apart formally these grounds to their sacred use by a few appropriate remarks.

Yours truly,
Judge David Wills,
for the committee on arrangements."

In July of that year, a great battle of the Civil War had been fought at an obscure little town called Gettysburg. And now, in November, the President was being asked to dedicate that sacred soil. "A few appropriate remarks," the invitation had said, for the main speaker was to be the Honorable Edward Everett, former Governor of Massachusetts, one time United States Senator, Administer to England, and Secretary of State, and considered by most to be the finest orator in America.

"Standing beneath this serene sky, overlooking these broad fields now reposing from the labors of the waning year, the mighty Allegiances dimly towering before us, the graves of our brethren beneath our feet, it is with hesitation that I raise my poor voice to break the eloquent silence of God and nature..."

True to the classic tradition, the polished and scholarly Everett spoke for one hour and fifty seven minutes.

"... and now, ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!"

Those assembled at Gettysburg that day applaud.

On that day, long ago, Lincoln held in his hand two pieces of paper, on which he had written his speech beforehand. But there were those who said afterward that he knew the lines by heart.

"Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

"Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated.... can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.

"We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

"But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate... we cannot consecrate... we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be here dedicated to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

"It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion... that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain... that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom... and that this government of the people... by the people... for the people... shall not perish from the earth."

Ten brief sentences. So simple. So direct. Yet coming after Everett's lengthy oration, Lincoln's speech seemed disappointing.

Man: "Yeah, I was there. Mr. Lincoln made a few remarks as I recall."

Woman: "Seemed like he hardly got started before he stopped."

Another man: "I heard Mr. Everett, and I saw the President."

Thus it was that Mr. Lincoln's little speech was almost ignored. Yet the one man who recognized its greatness almost immediately was Edward Everett himself. And in a generous gesture, he wrote Lincoln a complimentary letter.

"I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion in two hours, as you did in two minutes."

Abraham Lincoln had not expected his words to live beyond their temporary moment, but time and history would dictate otherwise. And so today, his Gettysburg Address is immortal. A rich and treasured part of our country's heritage.

Burdened though he was with the heavy affairs of state, Lincoln still could find time for humanity, and for kindness. A good friend of his, Colonel William McCullough, of the fourth Illinois calvary, had been killed in battle. As clerk of the circuit court of Bloomington, McCullough had been well known to Lincoln. To the Colonel's bereaved daughter, the President wrote the following words of comfort and consolation.

"Dear Fanny,
It is with deep grief that I learn of the death of your kind, and brave father. And especially, Anne, that is it affecting your young heart beyond what is common in such cases.

"In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all. And to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. The older have learned ever to expect it. I am anxious to afford some alleviation of your present distress.

"Perfect relief is not possible, except with time. You cannot now realize that you will ever feel better. Is not this so? And yet it is a mistake - you are sure to be happy again. To know this, which is certainly true, will make you some less miserable now. I have had experience enough to know what I say, and you need only to believe it to feel better at once.

"The memory of your dear father, instead of an agony, will yet be a sad, sweet feeling in your heart of a pure and holier sort than you have known before. Please present my kind regards to your afflicted mother.

"Your sincere friend,
A. Lincoln"

March 4th, 1865; Lincoln's second inaugural. The most famous passage from his address on that occasion reflects the nobility of his spirit, and the greatness of his character.

"Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away, with malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right. Let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

Abraham Lincoln, man of the people, man for the ages. His spirit is with us still, for he is one with us, and we are one with him.

The projection shows several of our ancestors - the brave souls who first established colonies on this New World. Trappers, traders, governors, politicians, blacksmiths, housewives and children grace the scene, as the theater fills with the words of the Preamble of the Constitution:

"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

These immortal words, when first they were written, proclaimed to the world an idea new among men. This was the American dream, the prayer for the future. But that golden goal was not to be had without cost. The American way was not gained in a day. It was born in adversity, forged out of conflict, perfected and proven only after long experience and trial. Our nation's greatest crisis occurred when Abraham Lincoln was our President, and our protector. For Abraham Lincoln gave all to save the Union.

One layer of curtains close to conceal the screen, as the iconic crest representing the President of the United States appears on the curtains. The music rises to a climax, as the voices of a choir lift up the curtain to reveal a grand stage. As the spotlights find their target, Abraham Lincoln takes a sip from his cup, and prepares his notes.

We pay tribute here not to a man who lived a century ago, but to an individual who lives today in the hearts of all freedom-loving people. His prophetic words are as valid for our time as they were for his. And now the skills of the sculptor and the talents of the artist will let us relive great moments with Mr. Lincoln.

"The world has never had a good definition of the word liberty, and the American people, just now, are much in want of one. We all declare for liberty; but in using the same word we do not all mean the same thing.

"What constitutes the bulwark of our liberty and independence?

"It is not our frowning battlements, our bristling sea coasts. These are not our reliance against tyranny. Our reliance is in the love of liberty which God has planted in our bosoms.

"Our defense is in the preservation of the spirit which prizes liberty as the heritage of all men, in all lands, everywhere. Destroy this spirit, and you have planted the seeds of despotism around your own doors.

"At what point shall we expect the approach of danger? By what means shall we fortify against it? Shall we expect some trans-Atlantic military giant, to step the ocean, and crush us at a blow?

"Never!

"All the armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined could not by force, take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue Ridge, in a trial of a thousand years.

"At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected?

"I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we ourselves must be its author and finisher. As a nation of free men, we must live through all times, or die by suicide.

"Let reverence for the law be breathed by every American mother, to the lisping babe that prattles on her lap. Let it be taught in the schools, in the seminaries, and in the colleges. Let it be written in primers, in spelling books and almanacs. Let it be preached from the pulpit, proclaimed in legislative halls, and enforced in courts of justice. And in short, let it become the political religion of the nation. And let the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the grave and the gay, of all sexes, and tongues and colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly at its altars.

"And let us strive to deserve, as far as mortals may, the continued care of divine providence. Trusting that, in future national emergencies, He will not fail to provide us the instruments of safety and security. Neither let us be slandered from our duty by false accusations against us, nor frightened from it by the menaces of destruction to the Government nor of dungeons to ourselves.

"Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith, let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it."

As Abraham Lincoln reorganizes his notes and gazes over the watching crowd, the curtains behind him open to reveal the Capitol building just before daybreak. As the first rays of light outshine the sparkling stars, a choir starts to sing "Golden Dreams". Through the course of the song, the sun touches the clouds about the stately dome, as the colors shift from moody blues and purples to reds, oranges, and brilliant yellows. And for a brief moment, the stripes and stars of our nation's flag appear in the heavens as the curtains close.