Here are a few stories Grandpa related about his Depression-era childhood.
In 1932 when he was four years old, Grandpa's father,Doug, and his mother,Lena, were struggling just to survive. Grandpa's brother, also named Doug, was sent to Montana to stay with his Aunt Jenny and his Aunt Ruth and his Uncle Arthur. Doug had asthma and they couldn't afford to keep him, so off to Montana he went. This left Grandpa alone with his Mom and Dad in California. There was no work available for his Dad. His Mom worked as a teacher but the school district was broke and paying in "scrip" which was essentially an I.O.U. In the end there was no food and no money, so Grandpa's dad robbed a grocery store! Lena was the "wheel-man" and drove to a small grocery on a side street. They had to take Grandpa, as they did not want anyone to know they had been gone during the robbery. Grandpa remembers his Mom telling him to get down on the floor and not to get up and look. Then she sat nervously at the wheel staring straight ahead. Realizing his mother was not paying attention to him, he got up and looked just in time to see his father in the back of the store waving his .38 revolver at the store keeper. Sure enough his dad emerged with a sack of groceries, and....voila! Dinner was served!
By 1933 Grandpa was in kindergarten and his mother asked a neighbor, one Mrs. Stonehouse, to watch him in the afternoon while she worked. Unknown to Lena, Mrs. Stonehouse was a drunk. At this time they lived the Los Feliz section of Los Angeles, somewhere on Edenhurst Avenue near the top of the hill. The afternoon in question was very hot, and Grandpa came home from school thirsty. He knocked on Mrs. Stonehouse's door, but she would not answer. Grandpa tried to turn on the outside water-faucet, but it would not budge. Looking around, he discovered a bottle of ant poison, opened the top, and took a sip. It was sweet and syrup-like, so he drank the whole bottle! He remembers getting tired and lying down in the driveway. Fortunately for him (and for us) his mother arrived a few minutes later and found him. His next memory was waking up at Dr. Farnum's office having his stomach pumped out! I don't think they ever left him in the care of Mrs. Stonehouse again!
Sometime during this period, the communists were active and agitating due to the extreme economic trouble. Grandpa remembers having dirt-clog fights with his brother and other friends in an abandoned field nearby. One day, grandpa pulled up a dirt clog to throw at his brother, and finding a shiny red object beneath, took it home. Upon seeing it, his father grew very quiet and said, "Son, hand that to me." It turned out to be a home-made bomb!
At Christmas time in 1933, there was still no money. Grandpa's dad brought home some pieces of canvass and his mom cut-up her fox stole to make fur-lined chaps for Grandpa's Christmas present. He remembers his mother sitting at the kitchen table crying while she cut up the only article of value she owned. When he asked her why she was crying, she told him she was just tired. Years later his mom told him the truth.
Through all of this, Grandpa never remembers his mother or father complaining about "being poor". They worked whenever and wherever they could and gave their family a roof over their head and food on the table somehow!
In 1932 when he was four years old, Grandpa's father,Doug, and his mother,Lena, were struggling just to survive. Grandpa's brother, also named Doug, was sent to Montana to stay with his Aunt Jenny and his Aunt Ruth and his Uncle Arthur. Doug had asthma and they couldn't afford to keep him, so off to Montana he went. This left Grandpa alone with his Mom and Dad in California. There was no work available for his Dad. His Mom worked as a teacher but the school district was broke and paying in "scrip" which was essentially an I.O.U. In the end there was no food and no money, so Grandpa's dad robbed a grocery store! Lena was the "wheel-man" and drove to a small grocery on a side street. They had to take Grandpa, as they did not want anyone to know they had been gone during the robbery. Grandpa remembers his Mom telling him to get down on the floor and not to get up and look. Then she sat nervously at the wheel staring straight ahead. Realizing his mother was not paying attention to him, he got up and looked just in time to see his father in the back of the store waving his .38 revolver at the store keeper. Sure enough his dad emerged with a sack of groceries, and....voila! Dinner was served!
By 1933 Grandpa was in kindergarten and his mother asked a neighbor, one Mrs. Stonehouse, to watch him in the afternoon while she worked. Unknown to Lena, Mrs. Stonehouse was a drunk. At this time they lived the Los Feliz section of Los Angeles, somewhere on Edenhurst Avenue near the top of the hill. The afternoon in question was very hot, and Grandpa came home from school thirsty. He knocked on Mrs. Stonehouse's door, but she would not answer. Grandpa tried to turn on the outside water-faucet, but it would not budge. Looking around, he discovered a bottle of ant poison, opened the top, and took a sip. It was sweet and syrup-like, so he drank the whole bottle! He remembers getting tired and lying down in the driveway. Fortunately for him (and for us) his mother arrived a few minutes later and found him. His next memory was waking up at Dr. Farnum's office having his stomach pumped out! I don't think they ever left him in the care of Mrs. Stonehouse again!
Sometime during this period, the communists were active and agitating due to the extreme economic trouble. Grandpa remembers having dirt-clog fights with his brother and other friends in an abandoned field nearby. One day, grandpa pulled up a dirt clog to throw at his brother, and finding a shiny red object beneath, took it home. Upon seeing it, his father grew very quiet and said, "Son, hand that to me." It turned out to be a home-made bomb!
At Christmas time in 1933, there was still no money. Grandpa's dad brought home some pieces of canvass and his mom cut-up her fox stole to make fur-lined chaps for Grandpa's Christmas present. He remembers his mother sitting at the kitchen table crying while she cut up the only article of value she owned. When he asked her why she was crying, she told him she was just tired. Years later his mom told him the truth.
Through all of this, Grandpa never remembers his mother or father complaining about "being poor". They worked whenever and wherever they could and gave their family a roof over their head and food on the table somehow!
I hope we'll never have to go through such desperate times. What a hard thing to live through. What hard choices.
ReplyDelete