18

                Preface for Volume Three, Chapter Two

                                       WHY

Years of dry land farming on the Great Plains in time caused the systematic destruction of the prairie grasses.

In ranching regions, overgrazing also destroyed huge sections of grassland gradually causing the land to be laid bare, and environmental damage began to occur. Along with the natural elements, the strong winds of the region were particularly devastating.

The worst man-made ecological disaster in American history, the 1930’s Dust Bowl destroyed farmlands in the Great Plains, turned prairies into deserts, and unleashed a pattern of massive, deadly dust storms that for many seemed to herald the end of the world. Families were driven out of the once fertile great plains by massive dust clouds some that rose to 10,000 feet and covered the land as far as New York City.

The Dust Bowl: A name given to the drought-stricken southern plains of the United States during the life-altering drought of the 1930s, as high winds and choking dust blanketed the country from Texas to Nebraska causing the death of people and livestock due to sweeping crop failure across the entire region.

The Dust Bowl magnified the pulverizing economic impact of the Great Depression that forced thousands of farmers along with city dwellers to undertake the life altering migration in search of work and better living conditions.

                               Chapter Two

                                     Hobos

Loveland, Ohio… Being an agricultural community located within thousands of acres of highly wooded landscape sixteen miles from the city of Cincinnati — and a railway station with all steel rails leading in directions other than towards Loveland, meaning few migrants looking for work had reason to wander their way towards Loveland.

Through the now three yeas of depression, and starvation— and occasional blackout like dust storms that had been somewhat muted by dense forest.

November 8, 19 32

1:10 PM

A cold day, jacket collars upturned, arms tightly about their chests in attempt to warm themselves, the boys stood outside looking through the closed, glass doorway, giving Morrie the impression that they were attempting to decide whether or not to come inside — to be welcomed inside.

Rucksacks strapped onto their backs, aware they were young migrants, both appeared to be filthy. Their faces, patched pants and jackets dirt streaked. One boy, the taller boy, wore an old, brown tweed ‘Newsboy’ cap, and the other a blue, hickory striped conductor, engineer hat looking as though blown from the man’s head and caught beneath the trains rotating steel wheels.

Wanting, at the very least, to offer them water and a few minutes of warmth, coming from behind the counter and opening the door. “Boys, can I offer….”

Turning from Morrie, their heads snapping to the left as if from a drill sergeants command as— returning from home, carrying her and Morrie’s lunch of a quart Mason jar of hot vegetable soup and two thick, ‘Viktor Bakery' white bread, ham and cheese sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper all held warm by a kitchen towel in a brown, string handled shopping bag.

Approaching, ‘hobos’, young hobos’ — ‘Hobo’ referring to a migratory person who travels from place to place looking for work, often by illegally jumping slow moving freight trains —‘hobos’, young hobos, Agie thought. Noting her husband standing within the open doorway, “Morris…” she said “… you never told me we were having guests for lunch.”

“Didn’t know myself, sweetheart.” Standing aside, making a welcoming gesture. “Why don’t you boys come on in!”

“Yes, sir.” The smaller, and assumed younger of the two never removing his eyes from the woman— and the warm scent— with the brown paper bag.

The boys, following the woman inside, watched as she placed the bag on the counter and, reaching beneath… “You boys hungry, are you?” ...brought forth two large coffee mugs. 

“Misses…” the taller boy, allowing the rucksack drop from his shoulders, “...we ain’t et for… tonight will be three days.”

“Yes’em. For three days.” the smaller boy said, watching as Agie poured equal amounts of the thick, chunky soup into both mugs.

Reaching for the cup the lady had moved in his direction...

The soup in the two cups just barely cool enough to to be readily

consumed were devoured with but one breath break, then both boys looked expectantly at the brown paper bag.

“What’s your name?”

Looking at the man on the other side of the counter. “Me?” In unison, both patted their chests.

Touching the smaller boy’s shoulder. “You, first.” Agie asked.”

His rucksack dropping to the floor. “Dane.”

“And you.” Eyes shifting to the taller boy.

“Jimmy, uh James.”

“You’re both still hungry, are you?”

“Yes’em.”

“ ‘Starving, ma’am!”

“Alright, I know you are, but before I give these to you…” speaking in what Agie considered to be a motherly tone, pointing to the far rear“...there’s a room back there with a sink and soap. The two of you, go! Go wash your hands.”

Once again… “Yes, ma’am.” ...in unison, the boys started to the store’s rear.

1:23 PM: “Seems to be very nice boys. How old you take them for?”

“Yes, they do ‘seem to be’. Whoever taught them, taught some manners… Don’t know, Morrie, ‘seventeen-eighteen’, and the smaller, uh, ‘fifteen’, maybe.”

“Poor kids…” sadly stated “... nothing to eat for three days! Wonder how long they’d been ‘on the road’?”

Removing the two ham and cheese sandwiches, and unwrapping the waxed paper — Viktor's Bakery: one of the few retail stores reaming open — Morrie and Agie waited the three or four minutes until, seeing, at least the taller head navigate their stores higher tiers of hardware held shelving.

1:34 PM. Approached the counter; “Thought you’d send us back, and didn’t want to waste time…” nodding at the sandwiches “...so Jimmy and me, we washed our faces, too.”

Washed in cold water, the top coat of dirt rinsed away, leaving an uneven frame of gray around both boys neck and ears. However no doubt the two were brothers —small nose’ turned slightly upward, mouths with full lips. The stubble of hair on their heads, if clean would be dark blonde, along with— with his face somewhat cleaner, Morrie noticed the beginning growth of a moustache on Jimmy’s upper lip. Guessing their height, Jimmy an inch or two below six feet and Dane, possibly about five foot seven.

Smiling. “Washing your faces a good thing!” Agie said. “Go ahead…” moving the sandwiches towards the two boys “...eat!” And to Morrie, nodding her head downward.

He had forgotten, but now reaching beneath the counter, into a bucket containing near completely melted ice, removing two— bottled and sold since November of 1915— Coca-Cola bottles. “Where are you boys from?” Morrie asked, handing each a bottle.

Taking a moment to appreciatively swallow, “Camden.” Dane answered.

“In New Jersey! That’s a long way away.”

This feast becoming better by the moment. “Yeah, near six hundred miles.”

Looking at Dane. “How long since you left home?”

“Jimmy and me, we’ve been on the road…”

“And riding the rails.” Dane added.

...“For ten/eleven weeks now.”

Waiting as an older woman came into the store and,“harrumphed!” in disgust upon seeing the boys, then, apparently knowing the way to whatever she intended to buy, passed by.

“You know…” Jimmy said “...Dane and me, were not bums and we always work for what we’re given, so what can we do for you for all this?” Gesturing to the cups, empty coke bottles and remnants of their meal.

“Nothing. It was our pleasure and Morris and me were happy to do it.”

“No, ma’am! Jimmy and me, we’re not bums, we’re Hobos and, believe it or not, we have our, uh, rules. We ‘never’ steal and ‘always’ work for our meals, or even a place to just sleep, so…” Moving far aside as the customer that had entered a few minutes ago slapped one penny onto the counter, as opening her other hand, showed seven large wood screws, then left without comment.

“If I can ask…” Morrie asked “...what’s your last name and how old are you two?”

“ Sweeny. Last name’s ‘Sweeny’. And Dane here’s fourteen and me, near seventeen.”

Children! Agie thought. “On the road this way? Your parents? Your mother

and father, they aren’t worried about you out here…” gesturing outside “...all by yourselves?”

“Don’t got no ma, or leastwise no one to worry ‘bout Jimmy and me, we’re...”

Interrupting. “Pa had a job as a boss mechanic at the Ford plant in Camden…” Jimmy said “...and when that plant shut down, he tried to get a job in the Ford plant up in Newark, but they were laying people off, too. Then he looked for any kind of work anyplace and couldn’t find none.”

“Then, in a while…” Dane added “... after he couldn’t find work, and after whatever money they’d laid aside…”

...“We started to have to go to one’a those ‘soup kitchens’...”

“And Pa hated it! So he left Ma and Jimmy and me with Pa-Pa Willie…”

... “Pa’s Pa, and drove off for California…” Jimmy said “...‘cause he heard plants there were looking for experienced auto mechanics and soon as he found steady work he’d send for us, but...”

“We ain’t heard from him since, and…”

When was this; when did your father leave?”

“Year/year and a half ago.” Dane told Morrie.

“Then after Ma got this, uh, cancer thing and Pa-Pa Willie said he was too old and sick and didn’t have no money to take care of us, Dane and me…”

… “So we decided to pack up and go and look for Pa.”

“And you’ve been on the road…” Agie said “... and riding the rails for almost three months now!”

“Wasn’t so bad, you know…”

“At least when it’s warmer.” Jimmy added.

“In a way, also, no one tells us what to do; stuff like when to go to bed and slop the pigs.”

“Your parents or your grandfather, they keep pigs?”

“No. But this farmer we met after on the road for three or four weeks told us we could sleep in his barn and that he’ll give us something to eat each day if we stay a while and help with his carrot harvest and dig through some towns-peoples garbage each morning to look for stuff for his pigs to eat. and for Dane and me to slop his pigs each morning.”

“Well, that only lasted for three days.”

“Yeah. Then we stole enough carrots to last us for three or four days and took off after the stinky meat and stale bread he fed us on our third night.”

“You have carrots in that soup you gave us?” Jimmy asked distastefully.

“Yes, why…” Agie asked “...you didn’t like my soup?”

Laughing. “No, no! Your soup was wonderful!”

“Even…” Dane said “... if it did have carrots in it.”

In deep thought a moment.“Hold on, kids. Let me talk to my husband a minute.”

1:55 PM. “Here.” Returning with two folding bridge chairs. “Sit…” Agie commanded “...Morris and I have to talk a minute.”

All these years, never using ‘Morrie’ or ‘Agie’, their pet names in public.

“ ‘Morris’?” Dane asked. “That’s your husband’s name?”

“Yes, and I’m Agnes. But to you two, we’re ‘Mister and Mrs Pink’. Alright?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

2:03 PM. “Okay, here’s what Mrs Pink and myself want to suggest to you.”

“If it includes chow like you just gave us, me and Jimmy say yes.”

“Food, yes.” Agie said. “You’ll eat when we eat and have what we have.”

”Sounds like this plan of yours is for more than a couple of days. Remember, Dane and me, we’re heading to California to find our Pa.”

“James, if what you claim regarding your honesty and willing to work for anything given you is true , you will be welcome to stay right here in Loveland for as long as you want, and we’ve enough farmers that have plenty of work but don’t have money to pay anyone to do it, so we can find you plenty of work for food, but that will be completely up to you and your brother.

“We won’t be staying, but what’s your plan?”

“First thing, don’t know if you’re aware, but the two of you are so filthy you smell bad, so Morris and me want you to go home with him now and take baths.

“Mrs Pink, you don’t have to twist our arms, Jimmy and me would love to!”

“We’ve a food exchange and old clothing bank right here in town, so we’d like to find you some newer, clean cloths.”

“Can’t do that!”

“We look too clean…” Dane said “...bums on the road think we got money and will do anything to find it and take it.”

“Yeah! Few weeks out— on a really hot day — some old filthy guy started pulling Jimmy’s clothes right off him, so I clubbed him hard on the head with a chunk of wood I found laying there, and not knowing if I killed him, we took off on the first train we could find leaving slow enough so we could hop it.”

“Yeah!” Laughing. “Only problem was, it was going back in the direction we came from and didn’t pull into a yard so we could jump off for nine hours.”

“ ‘Nine hours’!” Agie said. “You have any food? Any water?”

“No. Nothing. But I didn’t stop thinking that I might have killed someone.”

“So did you?”

Removing the blue striped conductor, engineer hat, Dane swiped his hand across his forehead. “Don’t know, Mister Pink. You know newspapers don’t print about how many of us… People like Jimmie and me die, or get killed trying to find work enough to just have something to eat, or a place to sleep.

But somehow…” Jimmy said “... old time Hobos know! Somehow they know just about everything that goes on with us from all over the country. It’s like there’s a magic telephone wire spread over every place that lets those old time Hobos know almost everything bad that happens to us, or the real bad things that some Hobos do.”

“Like steal something from a town’s person, or take money to do a job, then take off without doing it, so this tells town’s people not to trust us next time one of us comes knocking at his door looking for work for a bit of a meal.”

“And we ain’t heard about no bum being killed in Pittsburgh, otherwise we wouldn’t be welcome in no Hobo Jungle.”

Eyes turned upward. Hands tented as though in prayer. “Thank you, Jesus!” Dane said.

Wondering if Dane’s ‘thank you to Jesus’ was a prayer in ‘thanks’ for not killing another human-being, or for being allowed into ‘a Hobo jungle’’. Standing, motioning for the boys to follow; intrigued “What’s a Hobo jungle?” Morris asked.

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                                        26

                               Chapter Three

                              The Dust Bowl