June 1938 – “Dust Bowl farm. Coldwater District, north of Dalhart, Texas. This house is occupied; most of the houses in this district have been abandoned.” By Dorothea Lange – This image is available from the United States Library of Congress’s Prints and Photographs division under the digital ID fsa.8b32396.
By Irene Ambler
Editor’s Note: The following article, printed in the February 12, 1981 edition of the Breeze by Irene Ambler describes her memories of the “dust bowl” era of the Great Depression. The present drought which has plagued West Virginia throughout this summer comes close but does not quite match the severity which Irene recalls.
In those long-ago years (not really that long) even the weather seemed to be punishing us. It seems that everyone during the drought years of the early thirties was not looking for the silver-lined cloud in the sky. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the sight of a black cloud which would bring us rain. A drought is a pathetic sight. The creeks were dry, the rivers were low and stagnant; and fish by the thousands would die of heat and lack of air in running water. The earth was parched and cracked, and dead stubble from hopefully abundant crops could be seen as pitiful evidence of lack of moisture.
These great big black clouds would gather quite often; and thunder would roar and lightning would flash. But no water fell from the skies. Sometimes a few dark spots in the dust and adding mute witness to the futility of the times. Sometimes we would get a pretty good garden started and growing by the use of daily waterings. Then, when it appeared as if we could have good harvest, a hot wind would appear from nowhere, almost immediately scorching the tender shoots and leaves of our plants.
One thing which stands out particularly in my memory is the dust. Everything was dusty. The dust would dry the skin and hair and cause almost constant irritation to the respiratory system. Yes, we did have dust storms, although we do not live in the western part of the United States. The dust came from the mid-western farming section, which was blowing away due to drought and due also to the fact that good farming practices had not been followed by the farmers of the past. The clouds of red dust which we saw were the reason that scores of farmers had to leave the mid-west, thus giving rise to such famous stories as “The Grapes of Wrath” and “Tobacco Road.” Farms were foreclosed upon by the hundreds, bankruptcies were the order of the day, land was lost by non-payment of taxes and businesses folded all over the country.
When we had the “dust storms” as we called them, the atmosphere took on a reddish hue, accentuated by a blazing red sun. It was weird. Usually we would have the dust storms in the late afternoon, right before sunset. Several times during the day we would have to dust the mucky dust from the furniture. It would really pile up even if we kept the doors and windows shut. I wouldn’t want to go through that again.
Even though the summers were hot, dry and sometimes fruitless, the winters were cold, windy and punishing, especially when one didn’t have galoshes. I can remember only one pair of galoshes which I had during the early thirties. They were of some kind of cloth with rubber soles. They did offer some protection against my flapping soles, but they leaked. In summer I went with flapping soles and in winter I can remember cold, wet feet. I hate cold, wet feet and muddy shoes.
Around 1933 a system of locks and dams was started on the Kanawha River. They were built for the purpose of better river navigation, but principally they were for the purpose of flood control. The construction must not have been completed previous to the Flood of 1937, which I remember well. I’ll tell you my memories of that flood in a later issue. Torrid heat, hot winds, floods, snows and all kinds of bad weather—you name it, we had it, only adding to our woes of that time.
Each time I write one of my depression stories, I can’t help but wonder if we could weather the storms of another decade such as the 1930’s. People are different. Nearly everyone now has a higher standard of living; practically all of our natural resources have been wasted and raped; our very earth is polluted with every conceivable poison; the youth have been corrupted by sex and pornography and drugs; people have so many “rights” that they have forgotten the word “responsibility;” people have gone so far away from the Creator, that we wonder if they will ever return to the stage of humility which dictates the smallness of man and the greatness of God.
Do we have the strength of spirit and character to go into another era of poverty? Can we ever realize that gifts once wasted can never be regained? Can we realize that man must work by the sweat of his brow in order to survive? Can lost values be brought back? Can millions of people realize that the free ride is just about over and the days of wages without effort have gone? Will people ever learn that no politician in Washington or anyplace else can save them from their own waste and lack of initiative?
Somehow I think so. You know, when civilizations are in danger of falling, hedonistic values replace the real ones; and human body becomes an un-private thing which is discussed without modesty; music and art become chaotic; and just about everyone turns his thoughts strictly to himself.
I can see a slight glimmering that people are tired of the sex, the violence, the something-for-nothing, the every man for himself sort of philosophy of the past two decades. I believe that we will return to the old time-tested and time-worn axioms of the past; that man must work; man must save; man must learn to do with what he has; that we can live with dignity and pride and decency.
I actually can understand the words of the music on the radio; and I can see that love instead of sex is trying to make a comeback. I can hear and see on television (amidst all the trash) that there is a little glimmering that there is a recognition that we are dependent upon our Creator; and that we cannot live without strength of character, a willingness to work and a willingness to love and help our neighbors, wherever they are.
Who knows—we may even condition ourselves to the point that we may enjoy flapping soles, feed sack dresses and drawers and possum and sweet potatoes. I can take all of that except the possum and sweet potatoes.
