CALIFORNIA DAYS
By Mike
Hobbs
I
got an overdose of genealogy and local history while growing up in the '50's. My
parents liked to visit relatives and friends, and they took me with them. There
was a lot of visiting in those days. The adults' conversations frequently
turned to relatives, some born before the Civil War and long dead, and to local
history. Unless there were kids in the household for me to play with, I had to
sit there and listen to the adults' stories. I don't like to hear kids today
say that they are bored, but I have to admit that back then I was bored stiff
by most of the stories. I couldn't relate to old folks and old times. I had a
child's understanding of the present which I considered interesting and
sometimes fascinating, but the distant past? That was just musty, dusty, and
boring. I will say though that some of the adults' stories were a little bit
interesting to me, and they remain with me today. I heard about my paternal
great-great grandparents Silas and Mary Roe. They owned a farm south of
Abingdon and east of Boydstun Corners. The story goes that in the 1850's they
gave some land west of their farm for right-of-way to the Northern Cross or
Quincy & Chicago Railroad which became part of the CB&Q. Sometime after
train service began, a spark from a passing locomotive's stack caught an
adjoining field on fire which spread to my great-great grandfather's house. It
burned to the ground. Thanks a lot, railroad.
My
dad Pete said that he remembered his great grandmother Mary Roe. He was born in
1908. She died in 1915 at almost 100 years old. He said that he recalled how
mad she got when she dropped her clay pipe, and it shattered. Her doctor had
warned her that she needed to quit smoking, or her life would be cut short. I
can remember my great-great Aunt Matt (Martha) born in 1860 the youngest
daughter of Silas and Mary Roe. She may have been the oldest person I ever
knew. My parents and I used to visit her at the beautiful old PEO Home in
Knoxville. There were also some interesing stories of my mother's side of the
family. Her paternal grandparents came from Ireland and settled near St.
Augustine. I was amazed to hear about what a bustling little town Sainty was in
the early 20's when my mom lived there. It had four grocery stores, a lumber
yard, implement store, hotel, livery stable, bank, doctor's office, restaurant,
barber shop, opera house, variety store, undertaker, telephone office, garage,
post office, two churches, grade school, depot, and a large railroad dock for
livestock loading.
As
I got older, I got more interested in genealogy and local history. About a year
before my dad died in 1993 I interviewed him about his life. He told me many
interesting and humorous things which I wrote down. I wish that I had listened
to him more during my life with him and to those old folks back in the 50's. There
are many gaps in my understanding of my family and local history that they
could have filled in. Some things are gone forever. Sad! But once in a while
you get a second chance to fill in some of those gaps. Last summer while going
through some of my dad's things in my mom's basement we came across a little
notebook that contained a diary which covered a four-month period of his life
in California in 1931. To me it is a treasure, because it is a first-hand
account of a long ago time in my father's life. It helped me to better
understand the man that I knew. To the general reader it has value as a small
piece of American history seventy-five years ago. On another level it is a
story about a young man far from home during difficult times.
My
dad had an adventuresome streak in him. As a boy he voraciously read books by
adventure writers Jack London, Zane Gray, Edgar Rice Burroughs, creator of
Tarzan, and Clarence E. Mulford, creator of Hopalong Cassidy. He much preferred
being outdoors hunting, fishing, and trapping to being in school. After
graduating from Abingdon High School in 1927 he and his friends Bud Whitenack,
Raymond Kalb, Blondie Holstein, and Blondie's brother worked the wheat harvests
from August through November in 1927 and 1928 in Saskatchewan, Canada. There
they endured some harsh weather and hard work for $6 per day. After returning
to Abingdon from the harvest in November, 1928 he went to work for American Telephone
and Telegraph for a year in Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin. He started
out as a pole digger and finished as a lineman. After the Depression hit in
October, 1929 AT&T began laying off employees. Although he could have
continued working for a while longer, he took a layoff on December 28, so that
a junior employee with a family could keep working.
Things
looked darkly ominous when my dad returned home in early 1930. People were
losing their jobs. In time many would lose their homes through foreclosure, and
many would go hungry. There was no unemployment compensation, food stamps,
Social Security, Medicare, or Medicaid then. There were local relief agencies,
but they would experience the strain of hard times. In big cities some families
lived in ramshackle "Hoovervilles". Soup lines sprang up. The
presidency of Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal were still over three years
into the future. People had to pull together with family and friends to
survive. But there was a glimmer of hope--California. There were reports of
jobs there. My dad hoped to get on as a lineman with Southern California
Telephone. From across the country many Americans, including Oklahomans seeking
to escape the Dust Bowl, traveled to Sunny California with hope in their hearts
for jobs and a better life. My dad and his friend Orville Holmes were among
them and so were many other Abingdon people. Mario Sabetti showed me a 1935 AHS
yearbook The Tatler that showed
that many AHS alumni lived in California that year. They included Israel
Harris, Vera Redfield, Beth Thompson Cleary, Martha Robinson, Lewis Parker,
Fern Lethco Conti, Mabel Harding Pointer, Carroll Miller, Johnathon Harvey,
Ethel Lloyd, Elizabeth LeFevre, Pauline Thompson, Jim Spies, Florence Stegall,
Everett Dickerson, Richard Sheehan, Claude Parker, Gladys Harding Berry,
Orville Holmes, and Pete Hobbs
My
dad's little 2 1/2" by 4" diary notebook was a composite record of
several things regarding his California adventure. The diary itself was printed
on five lined pages front and back covering the period of January 1 through
April 18, 1931. How could he cram so much information for such a period of time
in such a small space? He wrote little. Unbelievably little. His card-playing
buddies used to tell him that he could keep score of pitch games for a month on
the inside of a matchbook cover. There is a quarter inch between each line. He
printed two and sometimes three lines between each line in ink and pencil. He
had to have used a very fine tipped pen and sharp hard lead pencil. It was
difficult to read until my nearsighted eyes got accustomed to it, and even then
I frequently had to use a magnifying glass.
In
addition to the diary the notebook contained a section entitled "Addresses
of Friends and Acquaintances". Listed
first in his best ink printing were the addresses of single ladies in
Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois, Saskatchewan, and California. One lady's name in
California was lined out with the notation "Married". Then came men's
names in printing not as good. Included in these was the name of former
Abingdon resident Claire "Ike" Cline in Los Angeles. He was the uncle
of Fred Cline of Abingdon and Virginia Cline of Galesburg. Also in the diary
was an inventory of his clothes--overalls, leather jacket, gray sweater, white
shirts, work socks and dress socks; prospective employers, addresses, and
contact people, some crossed out; a small map possibly to an employer; gin
rummy scoring; and questions about starting a battery station, garage, taxi
business, or car rental regarding the cost of renting a building or buying a
lot and of taxes, licenses, permits, and electric current. All the questions
were lined out. The reason? Probably, no money.
A
section of the notebook entitled "Notes on Trip--Ill. to Calif." was
interesting. He and Orville Holmes covered the nine-day trip from Abingdon to
their destination Torrance, CA near Los Angeles on three quarters of a page in
small print. He and Orville left Abingdon on Labor Day, September 1, 1930 in a
Ford Model T Dirt Track Racer. No top. Between 1908 and 1927 Ford mass produced
fifteen million automobiles with the Model T engine. The sturdy, low-priced
vehicle was Henry Ford's idea of a "car for the masses". The two men
spent their first night in Red Oak, IA. My dad wrote, "Slept behind a
schoolhouse. Kind of cold." They probably took U.S. Hwy. 34 which was
paved through Iowa by 1930. The next day they stopped in Nebraska to visit my
dad's uncle Kenny Hobbs. He was a railroad section foreman there. Now we get
into the ticklish issue of finding unsavory characters in your family while
doing genealogy. The story goes that back in the 1890's Kenny Hobbs' brother
John came out from Illinois to visit him in Nebraska. John came into town
riding a horse. A local man accused him of stealing the horse. Both men were
wearing guns, and they were drawn. My great uncle John killed the man and got
out of town fast. I can't say it for sure, but I may have had a horse thief in
my family.
My
dad and Orville spent their fourth night at a tourist camp in Colorado Springs
and saw Pike's Peak the next morning. On their fifth day out they crossed the
Raton Pass, the most dangerous part of the old Santa Fe Trail at over 7,800
feet in elevation, in the rugged mountains of northeast New Mexico. Of the Pass
my dad wrote, "Some hill. The mts. are kind of pretty but not so good for
a Ford--a lot of fun too." They got on the old Route 66 in New Mexico. Their
sixth night was spent at an Indian tourist camp in Grants, NM where it rained
hard. My dad nicknamed the Model T "The Ark". They spent their
seventh night in Williams, AZ where they received more rain. "That red mud
sure painted up The Ark and everything." They tried to make it to Torrance
the next day but kept falling asleep at the wheel. They "slept out in the
sage brush" near San Bernadino after driving over 400 miles and got into
Torrance late the next morning.
The
reason my dad and Orville Holmes headed for Torrance was because Orville's aunt
Flossie, who formerly lived in Abingdon, and her husband O.F. Mishler lived
there and offered to put them up. Local genealogist Nellie Landon told me that
Flossie's maiden name was Pointer. Brothers Ocie, Opie, Curt, and Donald
Pointer were all Abingdon area natives who had also settled in the Los Angeles
area. In February, 1931 my dad and Orville would move in with Ocie and Mabel
Pointer in Los Angeles.
Aside
from the adventure of moving to California my dad's goal was to find a job. His
diary began on January 1, 1931. On Friday, Jan. 2 he tried to get on at a steel
mill. "No go." During the next week he tried at another steel mill
and at a Ford plant in Long Beach with no success. By Monday, Jan. 12 he was
discouraged. He bore down hard when he wrote, "No chance of a job." On Jan. 14 he wrote, "Another day. How
well I would like to find a job for several reason[s]-debts-different place to
stay-something to spend time at-also I could use a few dollars as spending
money. It's tough to skimp all the time." On Jan. 19 he got up early and
went to a steel mill, the Ford plant, shipyard and other places. "No
work-just what the hell is the use looking for a job." On Jan. 20: "Looked
for a job- . . . there isn't any such a thing. Everything is tight as hell. Mishler's
could get along a lot better without me. I like to eat. Sorry I can't get off
their hands. A good job-an apartment, oh, oh." Jan. 27: "Tried to get
a job in [Lomita] digging ditch. Couldn't even do that." February 3: "A
hell of a day. I'll sure be plenty glad when I can get a job and get to myself.
This living with someone else isn't so good. I'll sure know a good job when I
see it next time." Feb. 4: "Went to some canneries in San Pedro and
Wilmington-no work. It rained [hard] today-yesterday too. Rather depressing to
spirits. Such weather-no job or even a chance and 2400 miles from home and
maybe no home much longer. It might be worse but how? I don't want to see it
much worse." The reference to "maybe no home much longer" has to
do with a letter he received from his mother on Jan. 24 about which he wrote in
the diary, "Got some bad news. Dad is about broke. They lose the house [at
512 S. Main in Abingdon] Mar. 1, 1931. Tough as hell."
Feb.
5: "Still cloudy weather and a damn [sight] more cloudy outlook for me. .
. .I sure . . . got my tail in a sling. By being . . . fool enough to come to
Calif. I wish . . . I could get out of this mess. It sure is tough on nerves. We
try a fishery tomorrow. Very slim chance of a job. . . . I hope I get on and
anything will do-lawful or otherwise." That last part "lawful or
otherwise" surprised me. The man I knew would never have said that. He
always emphasized honesty to me. His statement shows the effect of desperation
on a young man's mind.
Feb.
13: Went to Fords at 6:30. There [were] about 500 men at least there too. Plenty
out of work. About 6 were hired." Feb. 16: "Went to L.A. looking for
work. . . .Went to YMCA. No help even there." Feb. 28: "Just another
day. Damn this loafing. It's plenty tough on nerves. . . .Loafed all p.m. I
like to loaf but there's a limit to it." March 17: "Another day of
loafing. No place to go. Nothing to do. Not so good. I hope it [doesn't] last a
lot longer." March 25: "Went to factory. No job yet. I'll give up and
go over the hill pretty soon if something [doesn't] come up soon. Hell of a
life. I can't figure out what to do."
How
did my dad cope during this time with not having a job and with troubles back
home? In several ways. He spent time with people, many of them Abingdon
transplants, eating, talking, walking, playing carom, checkers, gin rummy, and
poker. He had some dates. Feb. 25: "Went to Don's [Pointer] for dinner. .
. .While at Don's an argument started on Prohibition." I'll bet I know
which side my dad took on that argument. He did like a beer now and then even
though the manufacture, transport, and sale of alcoholic beverages had been
illegal since the Eighteenth Amendment went into effect in 1920. Prohibition,
which was repealed in 1933, was a time of liquor smuggling, bathtub gin,
bootlegging, speakeasies, and gangsters. It was not evenly enforced. The
humorist Will Rogers remarked that the State of Mississippi would vote dry
"as long as the voters could stagger to the polls."
Abingdon
Picnics were held in the Los Angeles area for several years. March 7: "An
Abingdon Picnic the 15th. [of March] at [Pasadena] Maybe I'll go. If I'm not
broke. Well I'll hope for the best. Expect anything." He did go. March 15:
"Went . . . to an Abingdon Picnic at [Pasadena]-Brookside Park. Saw a few
people I knew." In 1993 he told me that 50-80 people attended that picnic.
In 1922 the Rose Bowl had been built in the sixty-one acre Brookside Park which
also had picnic and recreational facilities.
My
dad loved to travel throughout his life, and I imagine that sightseeing in the
Los Angeles area helped take his mind off his troubles. Travel was cheap. A
California driver's license for "The Ark" cost him $3.00, and
gasoline was eleven cent per gallon. Feb. 1: "Got up at 4:30 to go to the
L.A. Playground. 115 miles. Got lost a couple of times but got there about
11:00. Climbed a hill and scared up a deer. A tough climb but quite a site from
the top. Had a good time. . . .[L]ots of traffic. Plenty of cars stopped for
water." I wonder if the L.A. Playground is now what is called Devil's
Playground in the Mojave National Preserve northeast of the Los Angeles
metropolitan area. Feb. 2: Went out on Terminal Island [in San Pedro Bay] and
watched some boats come in." On his way to the Abingdon Picnic on March 15
he stopped by to see Mine's Field which became known as L.A. International
Airport after World War II. On March 29 he went for a ride and stopped by a
"wrecking yard" whose owner tried to sell him a Star automobile. "It
sure climbs hills. Plenty nice but I never thought much of a Star." Stars
were assembled between 1922 and 1928 by Durant Motors Co. They were billed as
"the working man's car" but were more expensive than Model T's..
Doing
odd jobs helped take his mind off of his troubles. Several times in his diary
he made an entry, "Picked mushrooms." What the heck was that all
about? A co-worker at the railroad who transferred to Galesburg from Seattle
last year shed some light on this question. He told me that in some parts of
the West Coast mushrooms grow year round. People pick them to sell to
restaurants, including many Oriental restaurants, for income. My dad was a
pretty good Model T mechanic. He spent time working on "The Ark" and
on friends' cars. He hung wallpaper for the Powell family in Lomita. I suspect
the Powell's were from the Abingdon area. He burned brush, dug up blackberries,
and dug up ground for a garden. In February the Mishler's wanted a second house
that they owned fixed up for them to move into. My dad called it "the
shack". At "the shack" he puttied holes, taped wallboard,
painted, dug a cesspool, wired, and put in a switch box and fixtures.
He
also spent time attending night school in Torrance which he started on January
8. I'm not clear what the class was for. Typewriting? General business? Jan.
15: "School is a big help 2 ways-good education & kills time." He
read a lot and wrote letters. March 16: ". . . wrote five letters. Read
all a.m.-no money in that." On March 20 he wrote of reading some Liberty
magazines. Liberty first appeared in 1924 as "The weekly for
everybody". At cost of a nickel per issue it featured writings by famous
authors and celebrities and was second in circulation only to The Saturday
Evening Post. Sundays with too much
time on his hands were sometimes difficult. Sunday, March 8: "I read &
slept nearly all day. Sunday isn't a day I like to see come."
His
prospects finally improved on March 10. "Worked today [at an Eljer pottery
in Los Angeles]-[believe] it or not. Made $3.75. That beats nothing. Pretty
hard work-unloading clay. Hope I get in again." His optimism faded
quickly, because Eljer didn't recall him. March 17: "Another day of
loafing. No place to go. Nothing to do. Not so good. I hope it [doesn't] last a
lot longer." March 18: "More rest & I don't need it." March
19: "Another day lost."
Finally
on March 27 he went back to work at Eljer. He had heard from Don Pointer that
an employee had lost a finger in an accident, and that he might get back on in
his place. "I went down and started to work-believe it or not. I don't
know how long it will last but ever[y] little [bit] helps." For a couple
days he scooped clay into a press, a job he called "plenty tough" and
"hot". On March 31 he was put on a new job hauling clay ware down an
elevator from an upstairs casting shop to the kilns. "It is a plenty tough
job but not so bad as the other one. They tell me it's easy when I get used to
it & learn what to do. I broke 2 bowls." April 1: "Gosh there
sure is plenty of walking to this job. Well I've been hollering about wanting
work-well I sure as hell got it. It is a lot nicer to be able to pay my board. I'm
plenty glad to be able to do it."
Things
were now looking up for my dad. It looked like he finally had a steady job, and
the work became easier as he got more accustomed to it. On April 15 he and a
young lady went for a ride to Culver City, Redondo Beach, and Torrance. On
Saturday night April 17 he and the lady went to a party where she tried to
teach him to dance. His diary ended on a happy note on Sunday, April 18 when he
described a ride he took with Ocie and Mabel Pointer. "We were up the
coast forty or fifty miles. Came back thru Santa Monica. Sure plenty of people
on the beach. So many cars traffic was slow. A pretty nice trip."
My
dad's job at the pottery didn't last. After a few months he was laid off. Later
he drove a dairy delivery truck in Los Angeles. Later he got a job as a clerk
in a liquor store in Hollywood. In 1937 he returned to Abingdon.
It
was painful for me to read some parts of my dad's diary when he expressed such
deep despondence about not being able to find a job, having to depend on
others, and being unable to help his parents back in Abingdon. Somehow I wish
that I could reach back into time to help and comfort him during his dark days
in California in early 1931 as he later helped and comforted me. Yet I see
positive "Sunny California" effects of his experience. As he accepted
help, he also extended his help to others. It had to be done during those hard
times to survive. He learned to persevere in the face of rejection and disappointment.
He had to. He had no choice. Those qualities molded him into the caring,
quietly determined man whom I knew as my father.
Mike
Hobbs