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Dorothy Hill was a long-time member of Saint John’s. Among the items that she left to the church when she passed away last month was this account of her experience as a girl on a farm in South Dakota during the Great Depression.
I grew up on a farm near Mitchell, South Dakota, with my parents, sister and grandparents.
The drought began in 1930; that year we had very little moisture and the field crops were poor, but father and grandfather harvested what they could for animal feed. They sold the hogs at a low price to reduce the feed they had to keep on hand. We used rainwater for household tasks and water had to be hauled in to be put in the cistern and then pumped by the bucketful to use, and even that had to be used only very sparingly. We had enough for drinking and cooking, but for other uses we were limited. For instance, we could not take baths every day; we could only wash faces and hands. When sister and I got our Saturday bath, we had to bathe together— then save the water for scrubbing the floor. We had only linoleum floors in those days, except the living room carpet. We were the first farmers in our area to get electricity in the late twenties and what a thrill it was to get a refrigerator instead of the old icebox with ice that had to be purchased two or three times a week. About 25 pounds of ice usually cost about 50 cents.
1933 was the worst year of the drought. We planted crops in hope of rain, but little grew and what did grow was eaten by grasshoppers. They ate everything in sight; they penetrated the land in droves and covered the tree trunks and ate bark and leaves. Even fence posts were covered and they pitted the wood. If they got in the house, we fought them constantly because they’d eat silk stockings or dresses—we did pretty food to keep them out, but when we went to church or town and got outside, the grasshoppers would stick to your legs and make holes in the socks. Along with the lack of rain, dust storms began. The wind blew and the dry earth kept the sky dark. To help keep the fine dirt out of the house, we put wet towels up to the windows and we had to burn lights in midday to see well enough to read the paper and mail. Also in 1933, the banks closed for a time until president Roosevelt established a better banking system. Grandmother had $700 in savings and lost it all—in those days, that was a lot of money. It cut down on the available money to spend. We made very little money from the farm, just about enough to pay yearly taxes— and most of that was made by selling yearling calves. Our living was made from selling milk, butter and eggs. We got just 12 cents for a dozen eggs, but of course everything in the stores was cheaper, too. We had few toys—only what dad made, including a doll bed and table. We played lots of games outside with neighbors, when the weather permitted and there wasn’t too much dust. We played hide and seek, red rover, jump rope and slide down the haystack in winter—if it snowed and if we had a haystack.
During the 30s the government shipped in oranges and lots of rice. We got our sack of oranges every week and we ate rice every day until we got terribly tired of looking at it on the table. Spanish rice and rice pudding were always in our diet. In the late 30s, other vegetables were available too—carloads of cabbage and carrots and potatoes. People in town and country enjoyed these free products.
In 1934 and 1935 things were a little better. We had small showers of rain here and there and gardens could be raised—if the grasshoppers would not eat the tops. The corn looked pretty good with the small showers that came—but one day the corn was nice and green, and the next morning only sticks were seen in the fields, the grasshoppers stripped every bit. The root vegetables were fair, so we had plenty to eat. We always had milk and eggs and a yearly beef, although the family had to be careful that they maintained enough cattle to provide milk and still have some feed enough to keep them, because pasture grass was poor and grasshoppers ate most of it. Needless to say, living was tight as far as money was concerned. We could buy no clothes, and made our dresses and other clothes. We made skirts from bleached flour sacks and we were glad to wear them to school. We lost our grandmother in 1935. Her death was also difficult with no money to lay her away, but undertakers were lenient, too, and they got paid as time went on.
Farmers all around were losing their farms for lack of income. Many moved to Oregon or Washington to try to start again. For ten years, no grain or corn could be sold with continued lack of rain and the dust storms continued along with the hoppers. If the drought had lasted one more year, our farm would have been lost too, but grandfather borrowed enough money to pay taxes in the late 30s. By 1940, the rains started and crops began to be better and, believe it or not, flocks of sea gulls swooped in to the fields and ate the grasshoppers so they had little trouble from then on. I guess God had mercy and helped everyone with the seagulls. The gulls stayed one whole summer and were gone by fall of 1940. 1941 was a real food year and people got back on their income. Our grandfather passed away in 1941, but by then things were looking up. After 1941, my father paid all the bank loans and funerals by buying more hogs to raise. From then on living on the farm was much better.
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