The summer of 1929

The Great Depression is generally dated as beginning with the crash of the stock market in the fall of 1929, but as I've mentioned before, for farmers it had already begun. In a desperate attempt (in my view as a non-farmer) to salvage their heavily mortgaged farms, my grandparents who owned several farms in Illinois, Iowa and Nebraska (and possibly Kansas) decided to fatten cattle on the plains of Nebraska, then ship them back to Illinois. Today we think of land as wealth, but when it is mortgaged for more than it is worth, being taxed, and you can't sell it, it's much like today's housing market when the bubble burst.

When I was a little girl I heard many stories about this summer of 1929, because Mom was in high school and for her the summer in Nebraska was sort of an adventure, although she was a rather studious, sober child and I think she knew they were in serious financial trouble. Today I received a letter she wrote in August 1929 from Caldwell, Kansas. Without sharing the personal "girl talk" with her friend here's her account--very much the way I remember her telling me over 50 years ago as we would do up the dishes after dinner. I haven't changed anything--spelling or sentence structure.

"I have been riding around in the car and sleeping and working all summer. The reading that I have done could be put in a thimble along with your finger. I have missed the piano lots but I haven't had any time for music at all. [This did surprise me a little because I rarely saw her play the piano--only the cello.]

Muriel and I go riding every day on our horses. I sure will miss my dear Blackie this winter. I have grown so very fond of her. [As a child I was horse crazy and would just be distraught at the thought that she had to leave her horse behind.]

On Sundays we generally go about the country. One time we visited the Indian mission on the Rosebud reservation just north of us in Dakota. It was a most interesting excursion. Another Sunday we set out for the forest and game preserve, but got lost in the hilly country around the Niobrara River (a most beautiful place).

Pa had to come to Caldwell so we all packed up and came along. We left Ted [the dog] at the tenants and the canary at Brills our nearest neighbor. The tenants have so many small children that we thought the canary would be safer where there weren't so many children and love of pets.

We have been here in Caldwell since Sunday evening. We started Friday morning about eight o'clock and spent the night in a tourist cabin at Humphrey. On Saturday we stopped at Lindsborg to see Mr. ------- [this must have been a former resident of their home community]. We found both Mr. and Mrs. at home and very glad to see us. It is very difficult to tell which of Mr's eyes is glass. It is his left one. He looks and talks just like he used to. They have a very nice home there and intend to settle permanently, I believe, as Mr. is very well liked.

We had some very bad roads after we got farther south and had to fight mud till we got within 40 miles of Wichita [paved roads would not be common for another decade]. Cars were sliding all over the roads and as we were all in the same fix everybody was friendly and lent less fortunate travellers a helping hand. One fellow had taken off his shoes and stockings and had rolled up his pant legs and was helping push their family car up a steep grade. He looked so awfully comical because he was fat and his clothes were very good, but he took it good humoredly one car pushed another one up the hill on his bumper. [It's possible that my Uncle Clare was with them to help with the driving, but I think he was with Grandpa to drive the cattle to Illinois. Grandma was thoroughly modern, and in those days loved to drive--although I never saw her drive a car.]

We stopped Saturday night at McPherson. They have wonderful cabins there, so nice and clean, toilets and hot and cold shower baths. Sunday we drove the remaining distance of 125 miles and stopped for a while at Wichita at the air fields. We watched a cabin plane go up many times with passengers. The fare was $2.50. [No mention is made of them taking a ride as I suspect the price was too high. It's another reason I think Clare was not with them--he was crazy about airplanes and died in one in 1944 in WWII.]

We have been house keeping in two upstairs rooms of the dairy house so as not to be a bother to the tenants, as they already are taking care of a woman and three of her children. [There was no plumbing or electricity in this building, which wasn't a house.]

We cook on our little Camp Kook [I think this is a cast iron dutch oven on legs to use over a fire]. It has been so handy. We bought a little cook stove for the ranch house at Crookston which we use for baking, washing and heat the rooms when it is chilly and it is chilly quite often.

I love the hills at Crookston, but it has become almost a relief to see level plains again, although I think the Nebraska climate up in the hills can not be beat, at least by Illinois.

We will go back to Crookston tomorrow and then start for Home (Franklin Grove, IL) the middle of next week and probably get home a week from this Sunday. But it depends on how long it will take Pa to get to Crookston with a carload of cattle, as we won't leave till he gets there too. We are anxious to get home a week before school starts so as to get straightened around."

Mother in 1929