Memories of the Great Depression — a Time Forgotten
Preface
The American Civil War began in 1861, and ended in 1865. According to a November 6, 2013 article written by Richard A. Serran, that appeared in the Smithsonian Magazine, “By the start of the 1950s, about 65 of the blue and gray veterans were left; by 1955, just a half dozen.”
From the end of the Civil War in 1865, until 1955, eighty years have elapsed. During that eighty-year period all but six Civil War veterans passed away.
When the “Great Depression” ended, is a matter of debate. Some would say that it ended when World War II began on December 7, 1941. Others would say it continued on until the end of the war in 1945.
But for people, who lived on the city dump in the City of Rock Island, Illinois, it continued until their shacks on the dump — their shacks in the “Hooverville” — that served as their homes, were finally bulldozed shortly after the war.
Arbitrarily using the December 7th, 1941 date, the day Pearl Harbor was bombed, as the date the “Great Depression ended,” until April of 2023, eighty-two years have elapsed.
Therefore, it is easy to see why Americans with memories of the Great Depression are getting harder and harder to find. There are fewer and fewer of them still alive, whom I can reach, who can give detailed first-hand accounts. And once they are found, before you can get their stories, they must be able and willing to tell them, and to allow you to record them.
I began gathering “memories” for my first book about America’s “Great Depression of the 1930s” in 1991. I gathered a handful of stories. Then got busy elsewhere.
I really became serious about collecting enough stories to write my first book, Memories of the Great Depression: A Time Forgotten, in 2014 and 2015.
Over the years, have gathered 91 original stories. I have used only four stories that have come to me from other sources. My first book contains thirty first-hand accounts. My second book, Memories of the Great Depression: A Time Remembered, contains twenty-four.
I expect that this third book will be my last book of Memories of the Great Depression. I therefore call it, Memories of the Great Depression: The Last-fleeting Memories.
As I write, in April of 2023, a person would have to be 93-years-old to have been alive when the “Great Depression” struck in October of 1929.
Couple that with the fact, that few people have any memories of their early years of their lives before they were four-years old. So, there are fewer and fewer people still living who have any meaningful memories of the early years of the Great Depression — the years from 1930 through 1935. And the memories of those 93 and older, in many cases, are fading.
Gathering these stories has become a “labor of love” for me. I feel that in talking and writing back and forth, I have become friends with some of the people who gave me their stories.
In some cases, the relationship ended almost as quickly as it had begun. I would call the story teller on the phone, and after getting the story teller’s permission, I would tape record the story. Then I would type up the recording, and send it to the story teller for their approval, which they would give. And in many cases, that was it.
But in other cases, a relationship developed. Dorothy Denkhoff, whose story appears in Memories of the Great Depression: A Time Remembered became a “regular correspondent.”
After I recorded her story and sent it to her for her approval, from time-to-time thereafter, she would send me a letter containing additional memories. I would then add them to her original story, type up the revised version, and send the revision to her for her approval. Then, a few months later, she would send me the next revision, and the process continued on. Then one day, after I had received no more additions and corrections from her for what seemed like a long while, I wrote to her, and my letter was returned by the manager of the home where she resided, informing me of her passing.
A similar relationship has developed with George Johnson whose story appears in this book. And it’s amazing how the stories have come to fuller and more vivid life as the story tellers add their details. George was kind enough to provide five revisions, and in his additions, we can see clearly his love for that “little dog that followed him home,” the birds whose songs he knew as a child, and the woods and hills that he loved to wander near his early home.
A few Sundays ago, when I stopped by our local Jewel Food Store after church to buy some donuts, I bumped into a friend, Pami T., who had introduced me to Mildred “Millie” Haynie, whose story appears in Memories of the Great Depression: A Time Remembered.
Pami advised me that, “Millie (has passed.” She was surprised to hear me say that, “I know, I have seen Mildred’s obit.” And then she told me one last story about Mildred. The Saturday morning prior to her death, Millie’s daughter had called her mother, and asked if, “She wanted to get together that evening for dinner.” Millie replied, “I can’t. I’m having dinner with God tonight.” Mildred passed away that evening.
But quite apart from any relationships that I have developed in gathering these stories, the stories told to me by Nellie Muños and Vahalia Vasquez Olvera that appear in this book, have given me a far deeper insight and greater appreciation of what it means to be an American. Their parents came to the United States from Mexico between 1910 and 1930 to escape civil war and poverty in their native country. In immigrating here, they asked no support from our government. They came only to seek work to create better lives for themselves and their children. If they received any assistance, it was from family and neighbors, who they in turn helped. Whether they realized it or not, their lives reflected two great divine commands: “Love your neighbor as yourself,” and “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
That same sprit animates most other stories in this book.
I think you can see why gathering these stories has become a “labor of love” for me.
John Donald O’Shea, July 8, 2023
What Readers Have Said — Endorsements
~ Annette Terronez. Vowed member of the Order of Carmelite Discalced Seculars, President of Parish Altar and Rosary Society, retired retail sales representative
What was life in America like during the decade of the 1930s? During America’s “Great Depression?” Few children, living today, have any idea of the hardships that their grandparents and great-grandparents faced for 10 years of their lives. These were people who did not sit and feel sorry for themselves. They did whatever it took to put food on the table, and care for their families - even if that meant eating dandelion greens or netting fish in a nearby river. Included are stories of families that immigrated from Mexico, who found work on the railroads, and who lived in box cars - without the conveniences of water, heat and bathrooms! Others tell of losing their stock market investments. Still others, of losing their family farms. They tell of having to start over again with almost nothing - with none of the comforts they had earlier enjoyed. These are stories of people who changed their lives to do what they had to do to survive. Judge O’Shea has preserved here the simple histories of ordinary Americans. They describe American lives during 10 years of want. He has compiled an American history that truly needs to be read by every American - especially those of junior high and high school age.
~ Pam Filson. Retired (after 30 years). Employed in office of doctors of internal medicine as receptionist, insurance, billing and medicine pre-authorization specialist.
This is a well-written book, that I thoroughly enjoyed. I especially liked the interviews of people who lived in my home town, in the city in which I presently live, and in cities throughout the surrounding area. The people interviewed tell of making their families the center of their lives. They speak of doing everything possible to earn enough to provide food and shelter to keep their families alive and together. The book brought back vivid memories of my grandparents and my own childhood, and of our icehouse, and our coal burning furnace. I guess, I am trying to say that it was a great read.