That's my concern also. Back then people tended to blame themselves and just sucked it up.
During my tramp printer days in the '50s-'60s, I worked mostly the country weeklies. (I was trying to get a driver's license from every state in the Union but gave it up when Alaska and Hawaii came in.) Anyhow, I made a point to talk to as many people as possible who went through the Depression. Short story - the folks in the cities starved, the folks who could hang on to their farms didn't have any money but at least the ate and had a bed. Some stories boggled my mind and gave me the uneasy feeling that I wouldn't survive in some cases. I fear I may be tested in those areas.
Just a couple of 'em for posterity's sake:
1) A guy who worked in a mortuary kept a box full of false teeth taken out of the cadavers. Some old-timer would knock on the back door and ask to try on a pair, and kept at it until he got a close fit. I always wondered if they were washed beforehand.
2) An older black man knocked at a farmhouse door, asking if he could work for a meal. The famer jokingly said that he could either have a meal or an old suit of clothes he had. The old man said, "Well, folks can't see how hungry I am, but they can see that I'm shabby. I guess I'll take the clothes." The farmer choked up and gave him both, as he would have anyway.
3) One guy told me he still had a box full of 1870s coins, although most were pretty well worn. I asked them how he got them and he said that he ran a gas station back then and people would pay for gas with old coins they had been saving. I expect to see the pre-64 coins used the same way - at face value.
There's lots of books out there with similar stories; one by Studs Terkel is a good start. It may be a primer.
Heck, I might have met you. I started as a reporter in 1959 at 19 and stayed with it for about six years. Then did a career in corporate management for 20 year and returned to reporting in New Mexico for 15 years or so before retiring.
I recall passing many evenings as a kid hearing depression tales, WWII war stories and family history stories.
Wish I’d listened better.
My parents were city folk. They always told the story about the darkest day: It was 1937, they were newlyweds. He was 23 and she was 20. My mother was out of work and my father’s factory was on strike. They had 36 cents between them. The went to a movie, split a bag of popcorn and had a penny left for a paper. Mom got a job out of the paper and Dad’s factory went back to work the next day.
My mother had one outfit she could wear to work selling children’s shoes. She washed it out by hand every night and ironed it in the morning. Dad routinely put cardboard in his shoes and they were resoled regularly. He probably replaced them every 2-3 years during that time.
There was some envy of the farm people, because, as my mother said:”At least they had food.”
I have posted over the past months about the downturn in my little business. My last order was nearly a month ago and I am perhaps 50% down Y/Y from last February. Today I got a small order from a shop in upstate NY. Tomorrow, my supplier will get an order. As slow as its been in fits and starts since last April, when I did the bookkeeping for the taxes, I was surprised to see that I was only down about 20% and my husband’s business was down less than 1%. I think the increases in property taxes, food and the Spring/Summer gas prices, plus the cold winter and high utility bills made it seem worse than it was.
The small order from an area I know is hard hit raised my spirits. Something I wouldn’t have thought much of a year ago is now a sign of hope.