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Both sets of grandparents had dairies and farms so my parents said they barely noticed it.
But we sure got the thrifty, recycling gene passed down....I can still see my mom flattening out tin foil to reuse it. Saving wrapping paper and string...all that. And they had money. DH and I are both like that.
[…] Her grandmother had just enough money to send her to a secretarial school, which was a disappointment, although she said later in life that typing, shorthand, and business knowledge did serve her well in life.
Once us kids were all in school and old enough to watch ourselves after school, my mom (born in 1927) would take on office temp jobs. She would say as long as you knew how to type you could get a job. Sometimes she would work in a “typing pool” (sounds silly now).
My grandparents were born in 1900-1910. They were dirt-poor, dust-bowl Okies when their farm stopped producing. They traveled (multiple times) to California to get work picking various crops. Their story is amazingly similar to the Grapes of Wrath novel.
They told me a few stories about those times. On one trip west, my grandpa went alone and rode with several other men. Grandma sewed his money into various clothing articles to hide it, and reduce the loss from a single theft. He told me the car was in such bad shape they only bought a few gallons of gas at each stop. They were afraid of losing the money in the tank when it finally quit.
On the other trips, he went with Grandma in their old Model-A. Each time they loaded the running boards and back seats with what little produce they had, and sold it in town squares along the way. Apparently it was very common to have a "farmer's market" in the middle of small towns, except it wasn't for the trendy/organic crowd. It was cheaper than grocery stores, and they could join in and sell their food also. To do this, they had to crawl in and out through the car's windows, as the doors were blocked by "quart" baskets. On these trips my Dad went since he'd been born the year before.
Once they got in an argument about something and stopped speaking. Grandma said she let Grandpa crawl in and out of the car all afternoon because she was too mad to remind him all the produce was sold (he could have been using the doors). She said it was a hoot to see people in towns wonder why that silly man crawled through his car window.
Another time they stopped at a rest area to eat lunch (apparently those existed even in the 30s). After they left and drove about 10 miles, Grandma remembered she'd left her purse on the picnic table. They drove back the 10 miles with Grandpa complaining and lecturing her about it. They returned to find the purse still sitting there untouched. When Grandma got out to retrieve it, Grandpa told her to grab his hat while she was out there. She told me: "I 'bout near strangled him over that."
They actually had a mortgage on their farm (they weren't sharecroppers) and were able to keep it throughout the depression. Once the rains returned and the economy improved, they were able to resume life on their farm. In the late 30s, they sold it and moved to the big city (it had one traffic light). Grandpa bought a truck and started a freight business. When Dad was 12 he was driving a semi-truck* by himself making deliveries. I think there was no driver's license back then.
*Much smaller then today's monsters, but still a tractor-trailer rig.
... I also read that they mixed saw dust in their grain
During many historic famines it has been documented that bakers often mixed sawdust in the flour to extend the bread.
Not unlike our modern imitation Parmesan cheese, when they are making the synthetic slurry to produce imitation cheese they found that adding saw dust will prevent the finished product from going stale so quickly.
Both sets of my grandparents were farmers in the 1920s. But both of them made the mistake of getting a mortgage to pay for a tractor. [Tractors were new and everyone said you had to have a tractor to survive on a farm] When banks locked their doors and seized all personal savings accounts, just like everyone else they lost access to what money they had. Then the banks foreclosed on those mortgages, and the sherif evicted farmers off their farms.
My parents were 6 and 8 yo, when each of their families hit the road in Model Ts.
Migratory farmworkers
A famous photographer Dorothea Lange photographed farmworkers in the 1930s. One of her most publicized photo
Is of a woman, born in the same town as where my mother was born, picking peas in the same valley, and she was buried in the same town as where my mother died.
My mother told many times of one summer when all they had to eat was a bag of black-eye peas and cornmeal, she spent the day collecting poke salad. But she hated black-eye peas.
My father told me stories about gasoline rationing during WWII. Any man who could get a job at a gas station, would have women propositioning him to get more gas than what ration coupons she had. According to him, at least once a week, strange women would offer sex in exchange for a liter of gas.
All of them had a severe mistrust of bankers and lawyers.
My maternal grandfather worked as an accountant for a coal mining company. The company laid off most of the office staff, but offered him a lower paying job on the security staff, so he worked at that for a few years. He was just happy to have a job. He later resumed his position as an accountant, and continued to work until he was seventy two. He never enjoyed retirement life as much as he did his working life.
He and my grandmother had been saving, and almost had enough money in the bank to pay off their house. One day my grandmother heard about a run on the bank, so she quickly started walking, carrying a newborn infant, and herding two toddlers. The bank was three miles away, and by the time she arrived, the money was gone. This led to many arguments down the road because my grandmother never trusted banks again and only wanted to save very small sums of money.
They lived near a railroad, and often had transient men come to the door looking for food. (We used to call them hobos.) She never failed to give them a meal, even when her supplies were low and payday was several days away.
This was when most people died at home, and those who could afford it would often hire someone to come sit with their loved one so they could get some rest. To earn extra money, my grandmother spent many nights sitting by the bedside of a dying person while my grandfather took care of their children. She was never afraid of death after witnessing so many. It strengthened her Christian faith and belief that we are headed for someplace wonderful when we pass.
They always told their stories in a matter of fact way, and were always grateful the situation wasn't worse for them.
Too late to edit.
Wanted to add that although my family was in good shape during the depression, an uncle, who was a painter, couldn't find work so grandfather took him in. He moved into my mothers bedroom and mom shared a room with her sister Edith.
Dad was born in 1924 He experienced the depression as a boy and as a young man. He told some stories about what was required as the oldest son in a large family.
He used to have to walk the rails to pick up coal dropped out of passing coal cars. Coal was expensive and they needed it to help heat the house. In the summertime he had to spend many hours each day working in a large vegatable garden.
He also went to Grandpa's place of employment several hours both before and after school each day to help Grandpa who was a pieceworker in a foundry. Living in a rural area Dad and Grandpa were able to hunt for small game to help feed the family. I understand that Grandpa was a hard man as my Dad used to tell how Grandpa would kick him in th a$$ if he missed his shot. Consequently Dad was a very good shot.
Times were hard for Dad's family during the Depression era and lessons learned stayed with Dad his entire life. He was always frugal, made do with, and was content with what he had. He was probably the hardest worker I have ever known, and always tried to save as much money as he could. He never invested any money in the stock market until he was approaching retirement age.
My mother's family was quite wealthy, they owned a lakefront resort in Michigan that had been in the family for generations. Of course, the very wealthy stopped going to resorts and they had to start selling stuff. First, it was the boats and then the furniture from the resort. Finally the resort itself. They kept the silverware which they planned to sell if really needed. My great-grandfather wrote down the names of everyone who bought something. As things got a little better they would offer to buy it back. I guess people really thought the provenance of furniture would mean something to people.
Anyway, by then my grandparents were married and my grandfather worked for his father-in-law. One day they heard of an auction by a guy who had bought some of their furniture. They wanted some back so sold some silver and went to it. They were successful on a very old Chinese iron bench thing. My grandfather had gotten to the auction by bus, but couldn't take the bench home. So he walked it home, carrying, sitting, carrying sitting for over 20 miles. That sucker is heavy as I grew up stubbing my toes on it!
The sad part is once my grandfather arrived home, my great grandfather was angry, as the original paint on the iron had been scraped off. Turning a valuable antique piece into just a piece of iron. I ended up inheriting it as well as a ton of other stuff. A Great-Great Grandfather had traveled extensively in the late 1800s and collected things! Many of the small pieces such as china were never sold as there was no need for fancy dishes etc. And guess what...there still isn't.
My mother was born in 1933, so she never experienced the "wealth" but did live in a massive house in Gross Point Michigan yet they ate dandelion soup for dinner. They also still owned a beach cottage that they had to take a bus to go visit as they didn't have a car. The silver had been sold off a little every year to pay the taxes on the various properties. My Great grandfather wasn't going to let those go, I guess he would rather starve. Eventually, my grandmother inherited all the properties and sold them. She became the classic depression era saver as did my mother.
My fathers family, on the other had, dirt poor farm people - think the Waltons! He hated that show. He would claim, I'm not watching that...I lived it.
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