10

                                      The Great Depression


The Great Depression, which began in the United States in October of 1929 spreading worldwide and was the longest and most severe economic downturn in modern history. It was marked by steep declines in industrial production and in retail marketing causing mass unemployment, banking panics, and sharp increases in rates of mass poverty, panic and homelessness.

October 24, 1929: The stock market hit bottom,

December: The unemployment rate that was still at 3.2.% hadn't started it’s mammoth downswing yet.

In 1929 here were more than 650 bank failures that triggered the start of a trend of failures throughout the remainder of the 1920’s.

As banks failed, it reduced the money supply because there was less credit available, meaning each dollar was worth more. With the value of the dollar rising, prices were falling reducing profit for businesses, meaning that the debt cost more for lenders to pay back that created a ripple effect of personal and business bankruptcies. As a result, farmers could barely pay the debt they owed on machinery and land mortgages, and even then could do so only as a result of generous lines of credit from banks. While factory workers may have lost their jobs and savings in the crash, many farmers also lost their homes, due to the thousands of farm foreclosures needed by desperate bankers.

Between 1930 and 1935, nearly 750,000 family farms disappeared through
foreclosure or bankruptcy. Even for those who managed to keep their farms, there was minimal market for their produce. Unemployed workers
had less money to spend on food, and when they did purchase goods, economic conditions had driven prices so low that farmers producing the goods earned very little in the way of profit. A famous example of the farmer’s plight is that farmers would simply burn corn to stay warm in the winter when the price of coal began to exceed that of corn.

As the Dust Bowl continued in the Great Plains, many had to abandon their land and equipment.

Dust blanketed the Great Plains, creating huge, choking clouds that piled up in doorways and filtered into homes through closed windows.
The suffering of farmers during the Dust Bowl years took many forms. Livestock died or had to be sold, as there was no money for feed. Crops intended to feed the family withered and died in the drought.

Terrifying dust storms became more and more frequent, as ‘black blizzards’ of dirt blew across the landscape and created a new illness known as “dust pneumonia.”

The ‘Dust Bowls’ region’s farmers, already hit by years of foreclosures and falling commodity prices, were decimated. For many in Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Arkansas who were ‘baked out, blown out, and broke’, their only hope was to travel west to California, whose rains still brought bountiful harvests and—potentially—jobs for farm workers caused mass departures totaling near twenty percent of 1930’s Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Arkansas population, to migration.

                               The great American ‘Migration’!


See: ‘The Grapes of Wrath’ by John Steinbeck, published in 1939

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                                                  Chapter One

                                             1929; Loveland, Ohio

The front page of the Oct. 30, 1929 Cincinnati Times exclaimed the massive loss on Wall Street. It also worked to ease fear among panicked investors.

                                                  Wall St. Panic
                                                As stocks crash
                                                 Market Closed

October 30, 1929, 8:02 AM: The small truck coming from Cincinnati with the days newspaper tossed to the front door of homes and businesses’.

This days copy of the Cincinnati Times spread open on the front counter of ‘Pink’s Hardware’. Looking up as she entered. “Agie, what’s this mean to us?”

Glancing at the paper, “Our thousand, twenty-five cent shares of General Motors might be in trouble.”

Opening the paper to the last page, his finger following the names of stocks that were traded in the New York Exchange. Surprised. “Our twenty-five cent stock has now moved up to forty cents.”


“Might as well be zero, can’t get to it anyway. And to us, Morrie, if we loose four-hundred, it’s not such an earth shaking thing; you and me, we’ll survive. But to poorer people?” In a perplexed tone. “When’d you get here?”


Oct. 29, 1929 On ‘Black Tuesday’, the market lost another 12% as a record 16 million shares were traded.

“Wanted to see, soon as the paper got here; ‘bout a quarter to eight.”

“Looked outside recently?”

Coming from behind the counter, stepping outside. Four doors to the east

there were possibly fourteen people waiting in line until nine o’clock for the doors to the expanded ‘Loveland National Bank’ to open.

8:08 AM. Lifting the receiver on the first ring: “Pink’s.!”

 “Agnes, it’s me, ‘W.E.’!”

“I know, it’s you, William.”

“Agnes…” the harried voice said “...glad I caught you!”

“Looks like you’re a bit overwhelmed there.”

“Yes, I am…” Loveland banks owner/manager said “… think you can come on over and give me and Miss Moorehead…” his one full time teller “... a hand for a while?”

When first meeting Mister W.E. Forester— owner and manager of Loveland National Bank on 5/7/15 — Forester’s opinion of Mrs Agnes Pink was that she, as, in most men’s opinion at the time, belonged at home, tending to hearth and home, certainly not in the mans business of banking, or actually in any business... Then, on 1/16/19 the 18th amendment to the constitution was finally ratified giving women the right to vote so now, in many men’s opinion, women were everywhere doing the jobs men should be doing.

However, on that late May afternoon in 1915, due to this woman’s overly forward attitude and wealth of knowledge, mistaking Mrs Agnes Pink for a
fucking female New York Lawyer that seemingly knew more about his business than he…

Actually inheriting the bank from his father, W.E Forester knew very little of ‘bank business’. But when meeting Agnes, whom — Being a rapidly advancing teller at ‘National City Bank’ in Manhattan, Agnes Longstead had taken advanced NY City College courses in accounting and book-keeping —In reality, outside of those traits that only came after years of conniving, Agnes did know more than Mister W.E. Forester. And in addition, as a National City Bank Teller, Agnes Longstead also knew the art of the ‘handily’ use of a ‘National Cash Register Company’ cash register.

Never altering his New York City lawyer assumption, the word spreading, Agnes became a kind of ‘go to’ person for minor legal advice— which in all cases, the only advice ever given remained in the realm of good common sense; anything ‘legally’ requested, she referred to the actual cities attorney.

8:09 AM.“Looks like you’re a bit overwhelmed there.”

“Yes, I am…” Loveland Banks owner/manager said “… think you can come on over and give me and Miss Moorehead a hand for a while?”

Her one love… well, after Morris, her husband, and the purposeful running of her own business... remained the banking business, and now this request to assist Loveland National Bank within the middle of this banking crisis?

Looking at Morrie questioningly. “Forester needs me. Okay?”

Never denying his wife, her question but a respectful request. “Of course, go!”

Knowing that the business of conducting Loveland National Bank through this calamity would be entirely in her hands, entirely dependent upon the realm of her knowledge. “W.E., yes...” the onetime bank Teller anxiously stated “...be right over.”

8:21 AM. Knowing all these people, all the people knowing her. “ ‘Morning, Agnes!” Passing through the… ‘Morning, Gus, Elise…” now twenty people in line awaiting nine o’clock and the opening of Loveland National Bank.

Seeing her, silently nodding to the banks customers, unlocking the plate glass door, Forester allowed just enough width for Agie to slip through.

Once inside, no further salutation to Forester. A quick smile for Miss Moorehead. Her question a no nonsense demand. “How much cash on hand!?”

“Uh…” the coldly spoken five words more a demand then a question “...with your deposit last night, uh, about nine hundred.”

“What do you mean ‘about’, and in the face of what you know is happening…” having no respect for this inept man; matter of fact, over the
fourteen years she had known him, her contempt had grown measurably

“... why aren’t you more prepared? What in the hell kind of bank only carries nine hundred in cash at ‘any time’?”

 Shrugging his shoulders. “Usually never needed more…”

 The crowd outside growing by another four or five people, looking to the elderly, frightened woman I the Tellers cage. “What’s you name?” Agie asked.

“Florence.”

Attempting to put the woman at ease. “Okay I call you ‘Flo?” The lady nodded her head. “Don’t you be frightened, just do your business like any other day. Everything’s going to be okay…. You hear!” Another nod.

“You!” To Forester. “Break out every greenback you have and give'm to Flo!"

Glancing at the crowd out the window. “Won’t be enough!”

“I know! Here’s the deal, W.E.! Morris and I have eight thousand ‘cash’ in our safe-box.”

Disbelievingly. “Eight thousand dollars, here.?”

“I am going to open our box, and hand eight thousand dollars to your Teller, at three percent interest…”

The words sticking in his throat. “ ‘Three percent!’ That’s what the bank charges!”

“Well, ‘W.E’, for today, this place…” motioning about “… has become the bank of ‘M & A Pink’!” Glancing at the clock above the Teller area. 8:46 “If your doors aren’t open at nine, got a feeling you’re going have to buy a new door, so you better hurry and write up and sign your loan agreement to Morris and me!”

As the banker quickly drew the paper stating that Agnes and Morris Pink  had loaned Loveland National Bank eight thousand dollars at three per-cent interest until… “When is the end date?”

“Till you learn how to take care of ‘hard’ business...” said contemptuously
“...put a question mark there and initial it, then…” on her way to the bank
vault containing the individual customers safe-box’ “...get ‘all’ of the banks cash over to Florence.”

Unlocking the small box, removing the cash, Agie took eight of the nine thousand— banded in twenties, tens, five and one dollar bills, making two thick, double stacks of bills.

Back to the Teller cage, Agie carefully handed the eight thousand to Florence. “When you get the banks money, divide it all and get half to me…” motioning to a lobby desk, “… along with a ‘paid’ stamp and… You do have an extra stamp and ink pad, don’t you?” Receiving a positive head nod. “Okay, good! Get it all over to me as quickly as you can, all right! What’s your salary?”

Fingers moving with lightening speed, the assorted bills quickly forming six— hers, mine — stacks. “Eighteen a week.” she said.

“As of now it’s twenty-one a week.” Looking to Forester. “Okay! Florence here is getting raised to twenty-one a week!” Her look daring the man to say other. Repeating, “ ‘Okay’!” Forester… fucking female New York Lawyer! nodded approval.

9:00 AM. Speaking to Forester as though he were an employee, which in fact, according to Mrs Agnes Pink, due to his inept ignorance in the face of this banking disaster, he was. “Open the doors!”

The doors opened by the owner of Loveland National Bank, the people; though in fear of loosing all their hard earned money, still highly respectful of ‘the banker’, began to file in, forming a line to stand in turn before— six stacks of equally denominated cash before— Miss Florence Moorehead, the woman in the Tellers cage.

Standing in the center of the banks marble floor lobby. “No, no...” Mrs Agnes Pink, whom most if not everyone knew and respected, motioning , “Come on in!” Going to the door, touching shoulders, urging all into the bank. A new couple arriving, looking bewildered hesitated. “You, too. Come in!”

“Everybody, please…” Agnes Longstead’s bankers eye assessing the crowd, figured twenty -eight, thirty restless people “...try to relax because you’re all going to get what you’re here for, and, yes, I know the information coming from New York is frightening, but it has nothing…” so far “..to do with us here in central Ohio. We’re an agricultural community, not an industrial community… Well except for the General Motors plant in Cincinnati. And even at that, how many of you work there?” Waiting for a show of hands. “Three of Loveland newer people work there, and how many of you are driving Chevrolet’? … Seven! So I wouldn’t worry about General Motors…” yet “And if things ‘should’ get bad, we’re… most of us are farmers and we could form our own produce exchange between ourselves.

“Mrs Pink?”

Knowing the man, a fairly consistent hardware customer with a twenty acre corn field. “Yes, Mister Foreman?”

“We’ve three kids, you know, and my wife’s really nervous about what’s going on and sent me to town here, to get our money.”

“You will!” Agie assured. “I promise!

Look people… we’re all neighbours and mostly friends, so here’s what I’m going to suggest.” Motioning to… “Miss Moorehead here and I will refund anything from your accounts that you want, but, like I said, ‘here’s what I’m going to suggest! Do not completely empty your account. Take all you think you’ll need, or want, but leave a couple of dollars so this way we won’t have to go through the paperwork of closing the account and won’t have to go through the paper work of opening an account when you come back, because…” smiling “...this the only bank in town and where you going to go when you want to make a deposit. Your choice, so what say you?”

Looking past the murmuring people to Forester, standing beyond the group, nodding his head in approval.

“Mrs Pink. So far as I’m concerned…” Robert Foreman said “...it’s okay with me. Three bucks will do?”

Thank God! “Yes, that’ll be perfect.” Motioning to Florence to bring the cash. Walking to the lobby desk. “Who’s next?” The old bank Teller asked.

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                                                        18
               
                                                  Chapter Two
                                                      Hobos