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Recalling The Great Depression

Nevin was just 16 years old when he walked into a Pittsburgh saloon and talked his way into a job — singing for tips. "The place was right next door to a house of burlesque, so my only audience was a bunch of grumpy old men who were waiting for the strippers to start dancing," he says. "My only pay was whatever money they threw on the stage, and the last thing they wanted to see was some 16-year-old kid singing love songs."

Life was so difficult during the Great Depression, which gripped America from 1929 to 1939, that the proudest of people sometimes had to knock on a neighbor's door and beg for food.

Memories of the period linger for those who lived through it, and are being revived by concerned historians in light of the recent nosedive of the U.S. economy. Could any of it happen again, and do modern-day Americans have the same mettle?

In an odd way, the Great Depression is remembered by older Americans in this area as the best of times — an era when they felt good about the collective soul of the country. A vast majority were suffering then, but people took care of each other. They wouldn't allow a friend, a neighbor, even a complete stranger to go without, even if it meant sharing portions from their own dinner tables.

"My father was the Lutheran minister in our town, so I guess people felt like they might find some compassion at our door," said 90-year-old Dorothy Duin of Seaside, who spent the Depression in Minnesota and Wisconsin. "They'd knock when we were having our dinner — and often we didn't know who they were — but he'd always invite them to sit on our front porch, and he'd share our food with them. That's the way people were in those days. We took care of each other."

The crash of the stock market in 1929, and a drought that ravaged farming communities in the Midwest, created a horrific series of events that brought down the economy in the United
States and most of the civilized world.

The financial devastation caused people to pinch their pennies, which led to the collapse of industry and businesses everywhere. Unemployment soared. Banks failed. Fortunes were lost. America's middle class all but disappeared.

Robert Nevin, 90, a part-time Salinas resident, recalls how life was in industry-rich Pittsburgh before it all fell apart.

"I can remember the sound of all those metal lunch boxes clattering as men walked to the steel mills, and the sky was always full of smoke and soot," he says. "But after the Depression took hold, there was nothing, nobody. The mills were closed, those men lost their jobs, you didn't hear those sounds anymore, and all that smoke and soot was gone."

A large population of the men — people reared to believe in the concept of an honest day's work — found themselves standing in bread lines or waiting to be served at soup kitchens. Nevin remembers that the soup got thinner, more watery, as the lines got longer.

When the fertile agricultural areas of Middle America dried up at the same time, and what became known as the Dust Bowl took hold, people left that part of the country en masse. Most of them headed west, hoping to find a better place to use their farming skills.

"The Dust Bowl didn't hit the West Coast, but the effects of it did," says Art Bongiovanni, 87, of Pebble Beach, who spent his childhood in Merced, where his father was police chief and a constable for the county. "In the San Joaquin Valley, you'd see a lot of old trucks rolling by with mattresses strapped to the roof, and all of their belongings in the back. There weren't enough jobs for all the farmworkers, and some of the jobs didn't pay enough. You could see the hardship."

People survived through creativity, generosity and unity. They grew gardens in their yards. They entertained themselves with community picnics and dances, baseball or softball games, pinochle nights.

Youth organizations such as the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts thrived, as well as adult clubs such as the American Legion. Families gathered around the radio to listen to "Amos 'n' Andy," "The Green Hornet" and "The Shadow," Jack Benny and Ed Sullivan, and crooners Rudy Vallee and Eddie Cantor.

They found ways to stretch food with stews and soups — usually meatless. Cottage cheese and macaroni became staples, and people filled up on baked goods.

"My dad went to work for a bakery and was successful at that job immediately," says Bill Garrett, 86, whose family lived in Fresno during the Depression. "At the ranches, where they were hiring workers, they fed them all and bought a lot of baked goods, so that was a big source of income."

Young people found ways to help make money.

Pacific Grove resident Stanley Benz, 93, said his brother became proficient at building bird houses, some of which sold for as much as 35 cents. Garrett learned to play the drums, which got him gigs as a teenager with dance orchestras in the Fresno area.

Nevin was just 16 years old when he walked into a Pittsburgh saloon and talked his way into a job — singing for tips.

"The place was right next door to a house of burlesque, so my only audience was a bunch of grumpy old men who were waiting for the strippers to start dancing," he says. "My only pay was whatever money they threw on the stage, and the last thing they wanted to see was some 16-year-old kid singing love songs, so I think I earned 15 cents that first night — and had to give half of it to the piano player."

The next night, Nevin's older brother came into the saloon to drink and assessed the situation. He tossed a dollar bill toward his sibling, which prompted somebody else to throw a quarter on the stage, but that is as far as the inspiration went.

"At the end of the night, I gave 65 cents to the piano player, kept 60 cents for myself, and left feeling pretty good about myself," Nevin says. "When I got home, Richard wanted his buck back — so I ended up losing 40 cents." And in those days, when a movie or a giant milkshake cost a dime, that was big dough.

Many who lived through the era credit President Franklin Delano Roosevelt for pulling the nation together through his "Fireside Chats," a weekly feature on the radio. FDR's positive attitude made a big portion of the population believe there might be a way out of the nation's doldrums.

His government programs, which he dubbed The New Deal, provided relief and work for the unemployed.

At the same time, Adolph Hitler gained power in Germany and the Nazis were invading European countries.

"From about 1937 on, I think everybody knew there was going to be a war in Europe," Garrett says. "At that point, the factories started opening up and people started finding work. I remember in Southern California, especially, the aeronautics factories started getting orders from places like Britain and France to build aircraft. And the closer we got to war, the more jobs were available."

The war effort galvanized the nation. As men and women left to serve in Europe and the Pacific, and industry thrived, good-paying jobs became plentiful.

The Great Depression ended in 1939. Nevin remembers watching the men carry their lunch boxes to Pittsburgh's steel mills again.

The difficulties facing the economy nowadays are difficult to compare to that era, Depression survivors say. It's a more complicated world today — a reality that breeds uncertainty. Older Americans are hopeful that lessons of the past will be helpful during the current crisis, but the challenges are unique.

"I think people have learned a lot over the years, and I hope that helps. I just hope we don't have to depend on another war to fix the country's financial problems again," Bongiovanni says. "I hope people have developed enough of a dislike for that part of life."

Whether today's Americans are capable of the same compassion and charity they showed during the 1930s could be another test, but Depression survivors say difficult times have been known to bring out the best of human nature.

"When FDR told us that, 'The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,' we believed him,'" Nevin says. "His positive attitude is what brought us together. That's what brought the country back."

Dennis Taylor can be reached at dtaylor@montereyherald.com or 646-4344.

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