Document text
January 31, 1939.
Carl T. Garrison (white)
72 Burton 6treet,
West Asheville, N. C.
WPA worker
Farmer
Anne Winn 6tevens, writer
Douglas Carter, reviser
BEGGING REDUCED TO A 6Y6TKM
Four Garrett children, the oldest a girl of fifteen, hud-
dled at the door of the principal's office in the public
school. When asked why they had been absent from school for
five weeks, the children could give no intelligible answer.
The idea uppermost in their minds was that their mother had
told them to ask for free lunches. They were scantily clad
for a November day. Their clothes were clean, but they
seemed to have on little underclothing and to possess neither
coats nor sweaters. Their shoes were full of holes. The
group was obviously under -nourished, thin, pasty of complexion,
anemic. One of the teachers said, "They look
just like poor little rats."
The principal reached for the telephone. He called the
otate Aid worker assigned to the school. "Mrs. Holt, look
up the Garrett children; you know the address," he said.
"Find out why they have been absent from school for five
weeks, and why they wish to be put on the free lunch list.
They are always asking for something."
A few minutes later the worker parked her car near a
large, yellow house on a sparsely settled street inhabited
mostly by negroes. A muddy road led to it. On its door,
a fly -specked, weather beaten, yellow card, hanging aslant,
announced, "Quarantine, Meailes," The small boy who stuck
his head out at Mrs. Holt's knock was thickly broken out with
a rash.
After a few minutes, Mrs. Garrett cane out and stood with
her visitor on the windy porch. he was a thin woman, about
thirty-three years old, with a pasty complexion, and projecting
teeth. Her hair was much too yellow drug store gold. Al-
though the morning was raw and cold she wore a thin, sleeveless
summer dress and no wrap.
"Yes, I live here," she said, hugging herself to keep
warm; time and my husband and our six children live in three
rooms, upstairs.*
The Henson's, who are her parents, and their youngest
daughter and orphaned grandchildren occupy the lower floor.
ohe explained the children's absences. No, they had had
measles long ago; it was the children under school age who
had it now. "My husband had been out of work for nine weeks,"
she declared. "When we was asked to leave the cabin whar we
wuz livin;" pointing to a tiny, log house in a hollow across
the stkeet, "we tuk the children and went to my brother's
at Emma looking for work That was five weeks ago.
"Nolm, we didn't find no work. But my husband and me tuk
in washinl. He'd go out and get the clothes, and help me do
them. Then he got back on WPA and we come back to Asheville."
ohe explained that her husband had been on the WPA for some
time. The project on which he was working "run out," as she
put it. o he had been suspended until work could be found
for him elsewhere.
"He has always been a hard worker," she maintained. He had
worked in the mills. He had been a clerk in a grocery store
at $12 a week. he had been a truck driver for the city, and
for various transfer companies. Before the depression, he
had made $20 a week.
"We lived real well the," she said. "But there wasn't
as many of us."
But for the past few years he had worked mainly as an un-
skilled laborer on the WPA.
"Ae goes back to work tomorrow," she said. "After he gets
his first pay check, we can get along. But we haven't had
anything in the house to eat for a week now but two messes
of flour and a peck of meal. The children has nothin' for
breakfast but a biscuit or a slice of corn bread. They come
home after school begging for food. But I can't give them
but two meals a day. That's why I want to get free lunches."
o the family was given commodities by the welfare depart-
ment; beans, flour, and dried milk. The school agreed to give
them lunches, and a member of the parent -teacher association
offered to find clothes and shoes for them.
6everal weeks later, Mrs. Garrett, head tied up in a
white cloth, was found trying to divert a fretful two -year
old. The room was clean, but rather bare, with shabby linoleum
on the floor. The bed was without sheets or pillow cases.
But the mattress was covered by an unbleached cover -slip.
The blankets were clean, but mostly cotton.
"That's my baby," she said, indicating the two -year -old.
"He shore has had a hard time." iihe enumerated the illnesses
of his two short years: diptheria, pneumonia, measles, and
now an abscess in his ear. ne had a bad cold also, and a
sore on his upper lip, which his mother wiped every now and
then with a not -too -clean cotton cloth. Like the other
children, he had too waxen a look.
"The doctor says as how he should have orange juice every
day, and tomatoes and onions mashed with potatoes, but I
don't have no money to buy them things for him. I ain't
nothing to give him but cereal." However, she admitted some
one was sending him milk every day. But she didn't know who.
ohe was still feeding the older children on biscuits, corn
bread, and now "white beans," but not bread and beans at the
same meal. Christmas had been a great help to the family.
nine dollars a week for eight people," she maintained neverthe-
less,*doesn't go far, after rent and coal has been paid for.
0
But they had"gotten a bag of coal from a dealer, whose
trucks her husband loaded on his way from work. otill, "It
was mostly dust," she complained. "When it was poured into
the stove it flew all over the room, until we was all
sneezing."
The Christmas basket from a civic organization had helped.
But again shesaid, "How long could five dollars worth of
groceries last for eight people?"
However, she had profited by various Christmas charities.
"I stood in line before Pender's Qhollwatore two or three
hours Christmas morning. You know he allus gives away shoes
on 1/4,hristmas. I got three good pair for the children. And
I got two of the boys into the dinner given by the Y.M.C.A.
While I was waiting for than I went by the doctor's office and
asked the nurse for a sample bottle of cod-liver oil for the
baby. he give me three bottles of it," she narrated.
It is easy to see where the Garrett children get their
habit of always asking for something. As far as charitable
organizations are concerned, their mother knows all the
answers.
ohe enumerated her further needs. "You know," she said
plaintively, "I ain't got but one sheet, no pillow cases,
and only one towel, and I asked the Red Cross, and the welfare
department both, for some. It looks like someone might give
me a few towels; they are so cheap:"
Finally she admitted that she was seven months advanced in
pregnancy, and as yet had no layette. "The Red Cross,"
she declared, "used to give lovely ones, all put up in a nice
basket. But,min an aggrieved tone, "they told me as how
they didn't have any more. m
But Mrs. Garrett, who says she completed only the third
grade in school, and never learned "to figger," has found a
neighbor who is quite sympathetic. "Mrs. Garrett, my husband
has a good steady job," said the neighbor, "I guess I'm just
plumb lucky; so I'll find you some of my baby's things that he
don't need, or has outgrowed."
However, there is a shoemaker in the neighborhood who is
wondering: "Where do you suppose Garrett got those six new
shirts he sold me last week?" Can it be that the Garretta
are making money off charitable organizations, or off
sympathetic individuals?
When Mr. Garrett came in, he was asked about his WPA job,
his wages, and his situation in general.
"I used to be a foreman, but now I'm just doing common
labor, getting a little over $18 every pay period, whenever
the weather is good enough to put in full time. Leather like
this we'll lose some time this month. That ain't much for
eight people to live on, is it? A little over $9 a week.
They used to give us Government food, but they won't give us
anything now. One fellow down there is the cause of it all.
When they get it in for you, there ain't nothing you can do.
Who'd you say you was with?"
"The Federal Writers' Project."
"Well, the WPA and the welfare department ought to be
cleaned up. You can't get a thing now. My wife is going to
have another baby soon, and I can't get any clothes for it, or
anything. They won't do a thing. They've just got it in for
me, that's all. Why right over on the next street is a
WPA foreman who gets Government food every week and clothes
and he only has four children. They won't give me a thing.
That boy there, now, has got a sore throat, and I can't get
a thing for him."
"Don't the children get medical attention from the city
authorities, or the county?"
"No, They won't do nothing for anybody that ain't on
relief. I have to just get whatever doctor I can."
"How is the house rented?
MEP
"I rent the house for $15 a month, and the people down
stairs pay $7.50 for their hale."
"Do they pay regularly?"
"Yes; but they are going to move out next week, and I
reckon we'll have to move, too then. The Wood Reality
Company has got this house, and they're awful strict."
"Couldn't you rent the downstairs part to someone else?"
"Naw."
But Mrs. Garrett, in the kitchen, at the same moment said,
"aure; there's somebody by here almost everyday wants to rent
a place." Mr. Garrett ignored this.
"They's only one bathroom in this house, and it's up here.
I don't want strangers running in and out of my bathroom.
They ain't no locks on none of the doors, either."
Indeed, there are neither locks nor knObs, but each door
has a string by which it is pulled open, or shut. However,
the radio, which was turned off to facilitate the conversation.
is the very latest in design, and quite new. It came from
one of the large mail-order houses that now maintain retail
stores in principal cities, and it has the automatic features
characteristic of the modern sets. The furniture, too)is of
recent design, and not very old, but there is not much of it.
Chairs are scarce, and there is no rug on the floor.
"Is your furniture paid for?"
"No, it ain't. They'll be taking that back, next."
"What will you do then?"
"Well, I don't know. Maybe I can get some more, some-
where."
"On credit?"
IIpure. I can't pay for no furniture."
"Do you buy other things on credit, too that radio, for
example?"
"Of course, I had to make a down payment on that, same
as furniture, but you can't 1Nlly get no credit anywhere else."
It was apparent from further conversation that he must
have sought credit everywhere, practically, and, failing to
obtain credit, asked for gifts, although he would not acknowledge
this. All efforts to draw him out further were ix-1\min. He
would not admit receiving gifts, money, or help from private
individuals or organizations. He always returned to the
complaint that the public agencies seemed to have it in for
him, would not give him anything, would not help him; while
others, already more fortunate, were getting free food, clothes,
medicine, etc. He said it was not easy, on his wages, to
keep the electric power turned on, but they had oil lamps
to use whenever the power was off. However, he missed the
radio during those times.
On the first floor house live the Hensons,
Mrs. Garrettls parents. Mrj Henson, who has lived in town
for the last ten years, was formerly a farmer. He used to
own his own farm. He is nciwsixty-six years old, and is
unable to work because of 4 very serious heart trouble. he
maintains that any man can make a living on a farm and work
only one -eight of his time(. His own experience of farming
was to him altogether satilpfactory. He planted a diversified
crop. Kept cows, chicken hogs. he had plenty to eat for
his family, and the surplus clothed them. Besides, when work
on the farm was slack he 4id carpentering. It was illness
he declares that had put #im in need. His wife has been an
invalid for fifteen years and has had numerous operations.
The Henson apartment is neatly kept. The Living room
has a bright, red and tanilinoleum on the floor. The white
and red flowered curtains are crisp and clean. The walla
are filled with pictures of the family, hung just under the
ceiling, which perhaps is just as well, where they form a
sort of frieze. The bedroom is cheerful, if rather bare.
The two faded -green iron beds are covered with red and white
counterpanes. There are no rugs. The room is heated with a
small stove. Mrs. Henson, the invalid, is a pleasant look-
ing brown -eyed, brown -haired woman of fifty-six. Her expression
is patient, and resigned. Her voice is soft. Dressed in a
red and white wrapper, she was seated on the side of the bed.
"I was married at sixteen," she said. "It was too young.
I've been married to Henson forty year. He was the first and
only boy I ever went with." Mrs. Henson attributed her in-
validism to much child bearing. he has had nine children.
Besides successive operations, she has developed sinus trouble,
colitis, and gall stones.
"If I was just well enough, I could make a good living
sewing," she says.
"All I ever had," said Henson, "has gone to support
doctors, hospitals, and druggists."
On first coming to town, Ir. Henson supported his family
by carpenter work and brick laying, until his heart trouble
became so serious he had to stop working. He has had, also,
a sinus operation. However, he still does a little farming.
A friend down the river lends him a few acres of land, where
he raises some corn, potatoes, and vegetables.
The Henson's eighteen -year -old daughter, Grace, keeps
house for them. They have with them two orphan grandchildren.
The county allows then $20 a month for these children's
support. Out of that, they pay $7.50 a month for rent, and
$12 a month for coal.
"I guess," says Mr. Henson, "We'll just have to get along
without eating.
Mr. Henson has his own ideas of how the Government should
be run.
"If the Government would only put a lot of these people
on relief back on the land," he says, "and have them raise
food for themselves and for others not able to work, they
might get somewhere. Of course, the tiovernment would have
to carry them at first. But once they got a start, they could
support themselves."
"We are just paupers, I guess," summed up Mr. Hensan;
"just poor, white trash."
"Poor," said his wife, "but not trash:"