California or Bust

What an ordeal! It was right after, or maybe during the terrible dust storms of the 1930's. Somehow, dad had heard that California had a plastering boom going on. He was a plasterer by profession, and there was no work for him here in Wichita, so we packed up and started out for what we hoped would be better fortune. Since work was scarce in Wichita, all we had was a song and a prayer, and virtually started out with nothing. We had an old run down small truck. I know you've all seen that movie "The Grapes of Wrath," and if people wouldn't think me mistaken, I'd like to impress upon you all, that our truck was the very image of the one used in that movie. No closer replica ever existed and I'm not so sure that our truck wasn't the very one they used. All nine of us were tightly packed inside as we slowly made our way to the promised land, Dad, Mom who was pregnant with Wiley Bee, Floyd, myself, Ralph, Mildred, Everett, Charles and Dorothy the youngest.

Dad worked to get food for us and gas to get us to the next town whenever he could find an odd job someone needed done. When he couldn't find work we would stop at farm houses and beg food from them. We camped at night wherever we could find a place where we could get water for the old truck. To our dismay, that old truck needed a lot of water, because it would heat up, and after it cooled down, we had to carry water and add it to the radiator. Of course, we didn't have the money to get it fixed, so this was our routine. A lot of times we camped in what were called "Jungle Camps." "Jungle Camps" were where all the bums slept and ate. While we were crossing the Rockies, we four kids had to walk behind the truck carrying rocks and helping to push the old truck up the mountains. When the old thing heated up and we had to stop for water, we'd put the rocks under the wheels so it wouldn't roll back down the mountain. Believe me, pushing it up the mountain once was plenty. We didn't feel the need to do that job over! We only wanted to cross the Rockies once!

Dad was a very resourceful man. When the truck broke down in the desert dad had to walk seventeen miles in the scorching heat to reach the next town where he could get the part he needed to repair it. We waited for his return along the roadside with the hood thrown up as a signal to passers by that we were having trouble. As people stopped to ask the matter and render help if they could, Mom would inform them of our need for food and water. Most cars at that time carried canteens that hooked to the front of the car so as they would drive, the slight evaporation process would cool the water and make it quite refreshing. Well, Mom managed to get water for us and as the donations came in, managed to collect around twenty dollars and being that it was the height of the great depression it was a pretty good sum in those days. Dad was gone for two or three days so needless to say we were very happy to see him on his return. To this day I have no idea how he got the part we needed for the truck, but boy did we eat after we got to the next town!

If I remember correctly, our trip to California took almost two months. When we reached the Imperial Valley it was hot, the gnats almost ate us alive, and as if that wasn't bad enough, we all got pink eye. Every morning our eyes would be so matted shut, that Mom would have to lead us blind by the hand to a basin of water and a rag so we could soak them open before we could see to begin the day. That was a fine time though for it was grape season and since the grapes were ripe and ready for the harvest the owner gave us all the grapes we wanted as long as Mom and dad helped cut them from the vines. We ate grapes till we could have turned purple ourselves and Mom was happy to make grape jelly over our campfire. We camped where ever we could find, and a place we found one time was at the dump. Dad salvaged enough lumber to build a shelter with the roof and sides mostly covered with dead cuttings from palm trees. The cooking area he built outside with bricks and cement blocks and put iron rods across the top to hold the cook pots. Mom worked hard to keep our humble home clean and even swept the dirt floor daily. Although the location wasn't the greatest, water was never a problem because there was a railroad that ran alongside our dump and we would get our water from the tower basin that they used to fill the train with water. Also, there was a jungle camp located there by the tracks and whenever a hobo had to leave and had food he couldn't take with him he'd give it to us. We did fine there until the police showed up one day. Someone had turned us in to the health and welfare board. We were told we had a week to be gone. The police understood our situation and were very impressed with our home and when they inspected our shack they said it was such a clean and well kept camp that they couldn't understand why anyone would object to our living quarters, but that we had to leave anyway. From there we went to Riverside where we moved into a mission home. Just down the block was a fruit packing plant and being curious, we kids soon found our way down there. Someone gave us a gunny sack full of oranges and then began the chore of getting them home. That sack was about the heaviest thing I can ever remember. Of course we were all small children, but we finally managed to pull, push, tug and carry those precious oranges home. What kid doesn't love oranges? Well, we did anyway! And you guessed it, we all had an orange in our hand several times a day, and since there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, we all ended up with the hives! Mom bathed us all in soda water two or three times a day, but man we still itched! After that Mom would only break down and let us have two oranges a day. We'd still go get all the oranges we wanted after that because the fruit packing plant continued to let us have all we wanted, but we didn't try to eat all of them ourselves anymore. We shared them with the other people in the mission home. After we left Riverside we moved on to San Bernardino. Sad to say, dad found the report of plenty of work to be ill founded, as no work was to be had in the plaster industry or any other for that matter, so he took a job harvesting English Walnuts for a tree farm in the area. Everyone picked up walnuts except me, for I was the one left to baby sit. Mom's time to have the baby was just about due, but because we were in such drastic need of money, she insisted on doing her share of the work. The day Wiley B. came, Mom was in the grove picking up walnuts. The owner of the grove saw she was having labor pains, and rushed her to the hospital. The baby wasted no time for shortly upon arrival, he was on his way. Regretfully, the nurse became excited and tried to keep the baby from being born until the doctor could arrive, and severely injured Wiley while attempting to push him back into the womb. In that attempt he incurred massive head injuries. Dad named the baby Wiley B. after his younger brother whom he had great love for.

The owner of the tree farm wouldn't let us stay and work, so dad turned for help to the welfare board. At first they put us in a house that was made of wood, but had walls made out of chicken wire. It was like living in a fish bowl. Finally, their solution was to send us back to Wichita. Thankfully though, the trip back was at their expense so we boarded a train for home. It was the first time any of us kids had ever been on a train so it was an exciting ride for us. I can't remember how long it took for us to return home but it didn't seem long. They had made arrangements with the welfare board here in Wichita to provide a place for us to stay for a few days, and in those arrangements we were put in one place and dad had to stay in another. Wiley was placed in a care giving facility where his injuries could be tended to. One morning the case worker came to tell Mom that Wiley B. had died. So it was with heavy hearts that we buried him here in Wichita, but where I don't exactly remember, as I was only a child myself. Those were hard times and we remained on welfare for a while longer, but I don't remember how long. I do remember however, that the trip home from California was sure a lot better than the one going!

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Published and © Copyrighted, July 18, 2002
by Betty Naff Mitchell