Thousands of farmers lost their land when they had no market for their crops and thus could not pay their mortgages. The plight of the farmer is reflected in the following quote from a debt-ridden farmer: “If they come to take my farm, I’m going to fight. I’d rather be killed outright than die by starvation. But before I die, I’m going to set fire to my crops, I’m going to burn my house, I’m going to p’izen my cattle.” (TFC, Vol.4, p. 55.)
“Foreclosure Blues”, written and sung by Tom Naples (http://www.tomnaples.com/music.html) is found in Naples’ website: “Whose Names are Unknown: Music from the Depression” (http://musicfromthedepression.com/). Naples says “These were songs that came from ordinary people who were in the very midst of the struggle. These were the unemployed who stood on breadlines, the Okie migrants who lost all they owned to dust and foreclosures, the urban dwellers who saw their life’s savings disappear with bank closings, miners and millworkers who were squeezed even harder by unscrupulous operators, and the people who managed to hang on in reduced circumstances but were witness to desperation all around them.”
The banker’s your friend on a sunny day
He’ll give you an umbrella in the month of May
Lord we’ve got those foreclosure bluesWhen times are good he’s your pal
But look out brother if your crops fail
Lord we got those foreclosure bluesThey’ll sell your farm from right under your feet
Put you and your family out on the street
Then you got them foreclosure bluesYou’re out on the corner with the lowdown blues
Holes in your pockets and holes in your shoes
Lord you got the foreclosure bluesRich folks they drink from a silver cup
All we want is a little bit of luck
Lord we got them foreclosure bluesThere’s a rich old man named Henry Ford
Selling his cars on the backs of the poor
But, we got those foreclosure bluesIn the cities the bankers and the business men
Drink champagne while they take your land
Lord we got them foreclosure bluesSo hold your head up don’t you be ashamed
You ain’t the one to blame
Lord we got them foreclosure bluesThe banker’s your friend on a sunny day
He’ll give you an umbrella in the month of May
Lord we got them foreclosure bluesWhen the times are good he’s your pal
But look out sister if your crops fail
Lord you got those foreclosure bluesLord we got them foreclosure blues
Another foreclosure song is “Sylvester and His Mule Blues.” Sylvester Harris was a farmer in Columbus, Mississippi who was losing his farm to foreclosure and since it was used to secure his loan, he also stood to lose his mule, Jessie. In desperation, Sylvester made several calls to the White House insisting on speaking with President Roosevelt. On February 19, 1934, FDR answered the phone, spoke to Sylvester and said he would get back to him. Shortly thereafter Sylvester was contacted by the Homeowners Loan Corporation and his mortgage was renegotiated thus saving his farm (and his mule). Until FDR died in 1945, he received a turkey each Thanksgiving from Sylvester Harris. (Roscigno and Danaher, pp. 98-100.)
The Reverend J.M. Gates, a hugely popular preacher from Atlanta, heard the story and popularized it in recorded sermons. Memphis Minnie (Lizzie Douglas) learned the story from Gates, and wrote and performed this song in 1935. (https://youtu.be/ytjj2NgyOdE)
Sylvester went out on his lot, he looked at his mule
And he decided he send the President some news
Sylvester went out on his lot, and he looked at his mule
And he decided he would send the President some newsSylvester walked out across his field, begin to pray and moan
He cried, “Oh, lord, I believe I’m gonna lose my home”
Sylvester walked out across his field, begin to pray and moan
He cried, “Oh, lord, I believe I’m gonna lose my home”(spoken: “Play it, Dennis.”)
He thought about the President, he got on the wire
“If I lose my home, I believe I’ll die”
He thought about the President, he got on the wire
“If I lose my home, I believe I’ll die”First time he called, he get him somebody else
“I don’t want to talk to that man, I want to speak to Mr. President Roosevelt
First time he called, he get him somebody else
“I don’t want to talk to that man, I want to speak to Mr. President RooseveltHe said, “Now, Sylvester, you can rest at ease
Catch that big, black jackass and go to the field
He said, “Now, Sylvester, you can rest at ease
Catch that big, black jackass and go to the field
By 1933, Blacks found it all but impossible to find jobs of any kind in agriculture or industry. Cotton prices dropped from 18 cents per pound on the eve of the Depression to less than six cents per pound in 1933, and black sharecroppers moved toward northern cities. Black urban unemployment reached well over 50 percent.
Desperate farmers in Iowa formed the Farmers’ Holiday Association and tried to use collective action to protect their interests. The leader of this Farm Holiday movement was Milo Reno. On May 3,1932, a convention of 3000 Iowa farmers led by Reno voted to call a strike on July 4. Their slogan: “Stay at Home – Buy Nothing, Sell Nothing,” and their song:
Let’s call a Farmers’ Holiday
A Holiday let’s hold
We’ll eat our wheat and ham and eggs
And let them eat their gold.
They aimed to raise prices by refusing to sell product. Farm Holiday supporters built roadblocks on the highways leading to the agricultural markets. Fifteen hundred farmers turned back cargo trucks outside Sioux City, Iowa. They dumped milk into ditches and turned back cattle trucks, but the blockades weren’t effective enough. Police eventually opened the roads.
A foreclosed farmer who went west to work as a migrant crop picker kept a diary of his experiences. Some of the entries are:
“October-December 1932 – cut Malaga and muscat grapes near Fresno. About $40/month.”
“December 1932 – left for Imperial Valley, Calif.”
“February 1933 – picked peas, Imperial Valley, earned $30 for season, on account of weather lucky to break even.”
“March-April 1933 – left for Chicago, returned to California.”
“May 1933 – Odd jobs on lawns and radios at Fresno.”
“June 1933 – picked figs near Fresno, earned $50 in two months.”
(TFC, Vol. 4, p. 68.)
The following songs describe the plight of farmers:
“Farm Relief Song 1929” was written by Slim Smith and sung by Vernon Dalhart (https://youtu.be/_h8LnqB3Hw4). The song was written before the stock market crash, but it indicates that the condition of the agricultural economy.
Boll weevil is in the cotton patch, we can’t get him out
And it’s all that we have to talk about
We got good people and…belief
What we need for the people is the farm relief
It looks to me we should all agree
What we need for the people is the farm reliefWe can eat saw belly with turnip greens
But we sure do all have to plan and scheme
We all start working at the break of day
We don’t get credit and we don’t get pay
It looks to me we should all agree
What we need for the people is the farm reliefThe kids are all ragged and they got no shoes
And all we have is the farm relief blues
Us poor people have to work and fret
for the darn farm relief has not worked yet
It looks to me we should all agree
What we need for the people is the farm reliefRents too high and the markets too low
When we ask for credit they all say no
We got good people and they all know
What poor old farmer makes he can’t sell
Don’t you think we should all agree what we need for the people is the farm reliefThe little bee sucks the blossoms clean
And the big bee gets all the honey it seems
The little man makes the cotton and corn
And the big man goes around tootin’ his horn
It looks to me we should all agree
What we need for the people is the farm reliefBoll weevil in the cotton, they’re every where
Maybe there in Washington way up there
If you get to Washington before I do
And they have no weevils then I’ll come too.
It looks to me we should all agree
What we need for the people is the farm relief
“Farmer’s Letter to the President,” by Bob Miller also discusses the problems that farmers faced at the beginning of the Depression. (https://youtu.be/XKUAoYApdms)
1929, October 23, to the president of the USA, Washington, DC
Kind sir I take my pen in hand to drop you just a line
I got some things to talk about that’s long been on my mind
I know you’ll understand sir, of course I mean no harm
I only want to ask you sir some things about my farm
I farmed my home for twenty years but now I must admit
I cannot go on the way things are, but yet I hate to quit
I farmed my home for twenty years, there’s something wrong I guess,
Too poor to live, too poor to die we’re sure in a terrible mess
I figured it out from every side, the figures herein I give
Please work it out and let me know
How can a poor farmer live
Now figure it out, in Washington, show us in white and black
Why the money we put on our farms we never do get back
I mortgaged my mules to buy the seed in order to stay on top
I mortgaged my barn and I mortgaged my farm to pay for a gallon of crop
Now the crop is in and it’s alright, the corn was a little rotten
The cotton is fine, we got plenty of it, but sir we cannot eat cotton
Our cattle don’t look so very well, our hogs look mighty thin
The summer was hard, the winter looks bad,
It’s a powerful mess we’re in
I tried to fatten up my stock, I failed I cannot deny
But the price they charge for feedstuff sir, it is cheaper to let them die
Now here’s a little problem, been figuring on it too
If you can solve the answer I’d be much obliged to you
Now ma is a little thing weighs 90 pounds I guess
Why does it take a bale of cotton to buy ma just one dress
And those fellers in your office send literature and buzz
If they had to follow a plow all day they’d holler just liked us
Cause literature ain’t what we need, that’s one expense you can stop
The thing us farmers really need is a market for our crop
And everybody gives advice we wish that they would stop
Advice don’t help, what we need most is a market for our crop
We all can figure, but until the market problem’s met
No matter how we figure we’re all a bit upset
So subtract it or divide it, figures never lie
Add it up or multiply it, figures never lie
We all can figure but until the market problem’s met
No matter how we figure were all a bit upset
That’s all I’ve got to say sir, my letter now I end
Sincerely I remain, sir, Respectfully your friend