Millions were out of work during the Great Depression. Since the government provided no unemployment insurance, lost jobs resulted in repossessed homes and evictions. Homeowners lost property when they could not pay the mortgage or taxes. Renters fell behind and were evicted. People were put out on the streets with all of their belongings. By 1932 millions of Americans were living outside the normal housing market, finding what shelter they could, under bridges, in culverts, in caves, or on vacant public land where they built crude shacks. And hundreds of thousands of displaced people took to the streets or rode the rails. Some cities allowed squatter encampments for a time, others did not. Herbert Hoover, U.S. president at the time, was blamed. “Hooverville” became a common term for these shack towns, encampments and other shelters wherever the homeless took refuge. These “Hoovervilles” developed all over the country.
It was common for the people to add the prefix “Hoover” to all kinds of Depression-related situations to reflect their negative attitude toward the President, who they believed did not care about their predicaments. For example, “Hoover flags” were empty pockets turned inside-out, and “Hoover blankets” referred to newspapers used for warmth.
There were dozens of “Hoovervilles” in the state of Washington, and hundreds throughout the country, each testifying to the housing crisis that accompanied the employment crisis of the early 1930s. (The Great Depression in Washington State Project.) Seattle’s main “Hooverville” was one of the largest, longest-lasting, and best documented in the nation. It stood for 10 years, from 1931 to 1941. Covering nine acres of public land, it housed a population of up to 1,200. It had its own community government including an unofficial mayor, and enjoyed the protection of left wing groups and sympathetic public officials until the land was needed for shipping facilities on the eve of World War II. (Id.)
“Pipe City” was the name of the Hooverville in Oakland, California. The conditions in Pipe City were typical of what the homeless faced everywhere during the depression. Out-of-work residents lived in huge concrete sewer pipes that were stored above ground. Each six-foot section of concrete pipe became a “homeless shelter” for one of the near two hundred unemployed who lived there. Residents covered the ends of their pipes with burlap or cardboard, and survived on mulligan stew made from discarded vegetables scavenged from nearby grocery wholesalers. (http://www.csun.edu/~sg4002/courses/417/readings/depression.pdf.)
The December 3, 1932 Oakland Post-Inquirer offered the following account of the situation at Pipe City: “To qualify for citizenship in Pipe City you must be jobless, homeless, hungry, and preferably shoeless, coatless, and hatless. If one also is discouraged, lonely, filled with a terrible feeling of hopelessness and helplessness, one’s qualifications are that much stronger. One belongs. Not all of Pipe City’s inhabitants are that way. Some of them have learned that a philosophical attitude helps. One may tinge his philosophy with a drop of irony, even bitterness, and the concrete may seem less hard and the blankets less thin and the mulligan less watery. But it takes a lot of philosophy, you bet, to make concrete either soft or warm!” (Id.)
“It’s Hard Time,” written and sung by J. D. Short (aka Joe Stone), (1933) was one of the first songs to use the term “Hooverville.” (Lawson, Jim Crow’s Counterculture: The Blues and Black Southerners, p. 149.) (https://youtu.be/7ULFeImz7Bs)
And it’s hard time here; it’s hard time everywhere
And it’s hard time here; it’s hard time everywhere
And it’s hard time here; it’s hard time everywhereI went down to the factory, where I worked three year
I went down to the factory, where I worked three year
And the bossman told me, ain’t hiring here
Now we have a little city, that we calls down in Hooverville
Now we have a little city, that we calls down in Hooverville.
Times have got so hard, people ain’t got no place to live.Don’t the moon look pretty shining down through the trees
Don’t the moon look pretty shining down through the trees
I can see my fair brown, swear to God she can’t see meCar rolled this morning, I way lying out on my own
Car rolled this morning, I way lying out on my own
Lord, I didn’t have no train fare baby, I didn’t have no place to goI’m going to send a trunk, babe I ain’t gonna send no more
I’m going to send a trunk, babe I ain’t gonna send no more
Because my baby keep on coming, baby and I believe I better goIndeed I hate to hear my faro call my name
Indeed I hate to hear my faro call my name
She don’t call so lonesome, but she calls my name.
“Beans, Bacon and Gravy,” was one of the most popular song to come out of the Depression. “Folklorist John Greenway, in his book American Folksongs of Protest states: ‘…there were at least three well documented claims of authorship for this song, but all that can be said with certainty of its origin is that it was born of hard times.’ ” (http://musicfromthedepression.com/beans-bacon-and-gravy/) This version was recorded by Pete Seeger. (https://youtu.be/6XY44EoxkfA)
I was born long ago, in eighteen ninety four
I’ve seen many a panic I will own
I’ve been hungry, I’ve been cold, and now I’m growin’ old
But the worst I’ve seen is nineteen thirty one(Chorus)
Oh those beans, bacon and gravy
They almost drive me crazy
I eat them ‘til I see them in my dreams
In my dreams
When I wake up in the morning
And another day is dawning
I know I’ll have another mess of beansWell we congregate each morning, at the county barn at dawning
Everyone is happy so it seems
But when our day’s work is done, and we pile in one by one
And thank the Lord for one more mess of beansChorus
We’ve Hooverized on butter, and for milk we’ve only water
And I haven’t seen a steak in many a day
As for pies, cakes and jellies, we substitute sour bellies
For which we work the county road each dayChorus
If there ever comes a time, when I have more than a dime
They will have to put me under lock and key
For they’ve had me broke so long, I can only sing this song
Of the workers and their miseryChorus
“Unemployment Stomp,” written and sung by William Lee Conley (“Big Bill”) Broonzy (1938), paints a realistic picture of the effects of being unemployed. Broonzy suggests that otherwise honest men might have to resort to stealing in order to live. He also notes that families break up when there is no way to keep them in necessities. (https://youtu.be/e_g8lNcAjcU)
I’m a law abiding citizen, and my debts I sure will pay,
I’m a law abiding citizen, and my debts I sure will pay.
I hope war don’t start and Uncle Sam have to send me away.I haven’t never been in jail, and I haven’t never paid no fine, baby,
I haven’t never been in jail, and I haven’t never paid no fine, baby,
I wants a job to make my livin’, cause stealin’ ain’t on my line.I’ve knowed a time when I have raised my own meat and meal,
I’ve knowed a time when I have raised my own meat and meal,
My meat was in my smokehouse, and my meal was in my field.When Mr. Roosevelt sent out those unemployment cards,
When Mr. Roosevelt sent out those unemployment cards,
I just knowed sure that work was goin’ to start.Broke up my home ‘cause I didn’t have no work to do,
Broke up my home ‘cause I didn’t have no work to do,
My wife had to leave me’ cause she was starvin’ too.
Popular Depression folklore contains tales of Wall Street bankers and stock brokers jumping from the windows of skyscrapers after the stock market crash. It is unlikely that ever happened, but America’s suicide rate increased during the Depression. According to an estimate of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, 20,000 people committed suicide in 1931. Edmund Wilson wrote movingly in The American Earthquake of the unemployed man whose last desperate act was rationalized in a coroner’s report as due to “ill health, family troubles and no work.” (TFC, Vol. 4, p. 24.) Billie Holiday sang a song, “Gloomy Sunday,” written by Rezso Seress, Laszlo Javor, and Samuel M. Lewis (1933), that reflected this harsh reality. (https://youtu.be/KUCyjDOlnPU)
Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless.
Dearest, the shadows
I live with are numberless.Little white flowers
Will never awaken you.
Not where the black coach
Of sorrow has taken you.Angels have no thought
Of ever returning you.
Would they be angry
If I thought of joining you?Gloomy Sunday
Gloomy is Sunday,
With shadows I spend it all.
My heart and I, have
Decided to end it all.Soon there’ll be candles
And prayers that are said, I know.
Let them not weep,
Let them know that I’m glad to go.Death is no dream,
For in death I’m caressing you.
With the last breath of my soul,
I’ll be blessin’ you.Gloomy Sunday
Dreaming, I was only dreaming.
I wake and I find you asleep
In the deep of my heart, dear.Darling, I hope that
My dream never haunted you.
My heart is telling you,
How much I wanted you.Gloomy Sunday
Streets were lined with out of work men selling apples to earn enough to feed their families. Soup kitchens and bread lines run by private charities dispensed food to thousands and thousands everywhere around the country. “Breadline Blues” was written by Bernard ‘Slim’ Smith in 1931. At the time he wrote the song he was living in New York City and was observing a breadline from his hotel window. The song has been called an “authentic hillbilly” observation of the Depression. (https://youtu.be/vxEow07U5QA)
The latest news
Has struck me funny
Says you have no friends
If you haven’t got moneyAnd all of us
Good folks are in distress
But I’m gonna get something off my chest
1932 won’t be long
And when you place your vote
Please don’t vote wrong
Vote away those blues
Those breadline bluesIt’s the rich man’s job
To make some rules
In order to rid
Our breadline bluesNow listen here folks
And it ain’t no joke
We’ve got to do something
Or we’re all gonna croakWe can’t get a job
We’ve all been robbed
We’ve got no money
And the corn’s all cobbedWe’ve nothing but the blues
The breadline bluesIf we had state rights
I leave it to you
We could all have safe and better home brew
Said the long earred mule
Standing over the box
To the big mouthed elephant
“You drink like an ox”
You had eight years
Proved nothin’ but a curse
Instead of making it better
Gettin’ worse and worse
Said the long earred mule
“I ain’t no fool”The elephant said
To the long earred mule
Well shut your mouth
You’ve never been to school
Well the mule said
“Elephant it ain’t no joke”
We better do something
Or we’re all gonna croak
We’re struggling to keep our head
Above water
But we’re drowning in debt
From the government orderIt’s the same old blues
Those breadline bluesThe latest news
Has struck me funny
Says you have no friends
If you haven’t got moneyAnd all of us
Good folks are in distress
But I’m gonna get something off my chest
2008 won’t be long
And when you place your vote
Please don’t vote wrong
Vote away those blues
Those breadline blues
Out of work folks would fight over garbage and to get a place to sleep. But, “welfare” was an unacceptable concept to many during the Depression. Sonny Boy Williamson wrote and sung “Welfare Store Blues” about how hungry men were embarrassed to obtain surplus food and clothing through government run “Welfare Stores.” (https://youtu.be/CdRbtyIwWK0)
Now me an my baby we talked late last night
An we talked for another hour
She wanted me to go down to the welfare sto’
And get a sack a-that welfare flourBut I told her, ‘No’
‘Baby an I sho’ don’t wanna go’
I said, ‘I’ll do anything in the world for you
I don’t wanna go down to that welfare sto’Now, you need to go get you some real, white man
You know, to sign yo’ little note
They give ya a pair of them king-toed shoes
I want no a-them pleat-back, soldier coatBut I told ‘er, ‘No’
‘Baby an I sho’ don’t wanna go
I say, ‘I’ll do anything in the world for ya
‘But I don’t wanna go down to that welfare sto’(harmonica, drums, guitar)
President Roosevelt said, on welfare people
They gonna treat ev’ryone right
Said, they give ya a can of them beans
An a can or two of them old tripeBut I told ‘er, ‘No’
‘Baby, an I sho’ don’t wanna go
I say, ‘I’ll do anything in the world for ya
‘But I don’t wanna go down to that welfare sto’, nowWell now, me an my baby we talked yesterday
An we talked in my backyard
She said, ‘I’ll take care-a you, Sonny Boy
Just as long as these times stay hard’
An I told her, ‘Yeah, baby an I sho’ won’t have to go’I said, ‘If you do that for me
I won’t have to go down to that welfare sto’.
Another song describing Depression conditions is “We Sure Got Hard Times Now,” written and sung by Barbecue Bob (a cook at Tidwell’s Barbecue Place in Atlanta) with the Georgia Cotton Pickers (1930). (https://youtu.be/wckPrm2gnbE?list=PLWj_ScO60NV5aeEQPbSTFMInJhhpmYiWQ)
Got a song to sing you and there is no excuse
Got a song to sing you and there is no excuse
And it sure is—I believe he’s gonna loseYou want a drink of liquor, you think it’s awful nice
When you want a drink of liquor, and you think it’s awful nice
You put your hand in your pocket
And you ain’t got the priceYou heard about a job, now you is on your way
You heard about a job, now you is on your way
Twenty men after the same job, all in the same ol’ dayHard times, hard times, we got hard times now
Hard times, hard times, we sure got hard times now
Just think and think about it, we got hard times nowYou started into moochin’ but your moochin’ all in vain
You started into moochin’ but your moochin’ all in vain
Be careful with yourself, you’ll get a ball and chainLord the bacon go to a dollar a pound
Lord the bacon go to a dollar a pound
Started to sellin’ but keeps going down and downJust before election you was talking about how you was gone to vote
Just before election you was talking about how you was gone to vote
And after election was over your head is down like a billy goatHard times, hard times, we got hard times now
Hard times, hard times, we sure got hard times now
Just think and think about it we sure got hard time now
“Depression Blues,” written by Hudson “Tampa Red” Woodbridge, sung by Tooter Boatman and the Chaparrals (https://youtu.be/X–mWA20_uY) also supplies some pictures of the conditions.
I’m gonna tell you women, you better find yourself a man
Because a depression is coming and your gonna need a helping handAll you ponytails and cheesy mamas too
You go around braggin’ about what your old man can do
You say he makes lots of money and spends it all on you
If he keeps that up he’ll be on the soup line tooDepression blues, how I hate the depression the blues
Got the depression bluesMy daddy stole a chicken, my mama fried it hard
The reason that she did, he couldn’t steal no lardDepression blues, how I hate the depression the blues
Depression blues, how I hate the depression the bluesIf I could tell my troubles, it may would give my po’ heart ease
If I could tell my troubles, it may would give my po’ heart ease
But depressions got me, somebody help me please.
If I don’t feel no better, than I feel today,
If I don’t feel no better, than I feel today,
I’m gonna pack my few clothes and make my getaway.
“Homeless And Hungry Blues,” written and sung by Josh White (1935), provides another look at the type of problems in a typical Depression situation. (https://youtu.be/ySmyKzgxlPM)
It’s getting colder and colder
I ain’t got no where to go
Colder and colder
I ain’t got no where to goAsked my friends to help me
Throwed me out and slammed the door
I’m broke and disgusted
And want nobody to lend me a helping hand
I’m broke and disgusted
Please send me a helping handI am poor and hungry
Swear that’s more than I can stand
I got that old TB
Swear I got that old grave yard call
I got that old TB, boy
Swear I got that old grave yard call
If someone don’t let me inThis bird dog take all —– (unintelligible)
I ain’t had a bite to eat
Ain’t had a bit to eat
Please don’t forsake me
Let me warm my feetI gonna pray to my father
Down on my bended knees
Pray to my father
Down on my bended kneesLord have mercy,
Help me if you please
Soup lines, where unemployed and homeless people queued up for something to eat (often very thin soup) were very common during the Depression. Maurice Sugar, a Detroit lawyer with a pro-labor union bent, wrote “The Soup Song” to describe that phenomenon. Utah Phillips sings the song at https://youtu.be/QI84APGsMh0
I’m spending my nights at the flophouse
I’m spending my days on the street.
I’m looking for work and I find none
I wish I had something to eat!CHORUS: (Repeat after each verse)
Sou-oopp! Sou-oop!
They give me a bowl of sou-oo-oop
Sou-oopp! Sou-oop!
They gave me a bowl of soup.I worked twenty years in the factory.
I did everything I was told.
They said I was loyal and faithful
Now even before I get old. (“But now I am out in the cold.”)I saved fifty bucks with my banker.
To buy me a car and a yacht.
I went down to draw out my fortune,
And this is the answer I got.I fought in the war for my country.
I went out to bleed and to die.
I thought that my country would help me,
But this was my country’s reply.Additional verse:
When I die and I get up to heaven
St. Peter will let me right in
He can tell by the soup I was fed on
I was unable to sin