Rickets in Depression-Era Ypsilanti Children

When some half-starved children in Ypsi developed rickets, the dread disease that leads to debilitating bone loss, how did the city respond? The answer is in today's YpsiNews column.

Christmas Wish Lists in the Depression

Have kids in your life with Christmas wishes? Sons, daughters, nieces, nephews? Take a look at what Depression--era kids requested, in today's story in the Courier.

Depression-Era Children's Letters to Santa

Some say that unemployment levels in Michigan, if you count those people who have simply given up on looking for work, approaches or equals depression-era levels.

How does one Depression-era Christmas compare to Christmas 2010? In particular, how did Ypsi children react to the difficulties they could see all around them, to the worried nighttime conversations around the kitchen table overheard from their bedrooms, to their parents' inability to buy them a new warm coat?

How many could afford the trains, skates, and velocipedes on sale at Shaefer's Hardware in December of 1932?

That story will be in tomorrow's Ypsilanti Courier (if they run it); be sure to snag a copy!

Depression-Era Welfare Work in Riverside Park

Had you taken a stroll in Riverside Park on a chilly mid-November day in 1933, you might have noticed a group of local men working outdoors on the western bank of the onetime junk-lined park.

These were men receiving municipal welfare benefits. Before the federal welfare system, the city did what it could to provide money, food, and fuel to those in town who were in need. In this case, even the dead trees cut down this day in 1933 were salvaged for fuel.

The men cleared away the garbage and junk then-piled behind the Riverside Arts Center and St. Luke's Church, "where previously there were junk heaps . . . [t]he old tin, wire fencing, and auto parts have been hauled away . . ."

"The entrance to this new park is at the Ladies' Library, where last year a small rock garden and pool were constructed, with a winding walk down to the lower flats."

---November 15, 1933 Ypsilanti Daily Press

Squirrels of Legend and Yore

Kind readers, have you ever caught yourself forlornly wishing...

"Golly gee. I wish some writer or other would sit down, do the legwork, wear out some shoeleather, sharpen his or her pen, get out some foolscap, uncork the inkwell, wash their hands, delve into Ypsilanti history, and write a history of our longtime city friend and resident, the squirrel."

Be forlorn no longer.

You Couldn't Buy Eggs with it Either

...not with the homebrew municipal currency designed, printed, and used in Ypsi in the 1930s. Navy beans and lard were OK though. Today's Chronicle story.

1937 Road Surfaces

This is pretty neat. I got aholt of a "Street Surface Survey" from 1937, showing the 7 different road surfacing surfaces then in use in downtown streets. The 4-page survey has a list of all the streets within the city limits. For each street, the surveyors noted how many feet of which material was used. Most streets had more than one material.

So Dusty D got out her lovely Berol colored pencils, color-coded the material categories, scanned and cropped a map, and contentedly colored all evening. Er, for research! Research! While admiring the French names, printed in gold, on the pencils: vert pre, bleu ciel, lavande, ocre orange, brun dore.

METHODOLOGY: The streets with only one material were easy. I went through and did those first and they are the vast majority of streets on my colored map. I only did a few multi-material streets--only when I could make a good and supported guess where each material was on the road. If I couldn't, I just left it blank.

INTERESTING BITS: As you can see, downtown Ypsi had a heart of gold. Gold signifies brick pavement. You can still see a tiny remnant of this brick on the east side of Huron just south of City Hall. Look at the sidewalk. The brick sidewalk is well over 70 years old.

Another interesting bit comes out of the materials totals for the whole city. As measured in miles, they were:

BRICK: 1.13
ASPHALT: 1.76
CONCRETE: 11.60
ROAD MIX: 2.78
DUST LAYER: 16.31
GRAVEL: 11.80
UNIMPROVED: 3.40 (48.78 miles of road all told--stretched out, it could reach Toledo)

Road Mix is a technique of roadmaking whereby existing gravel is scraped up, mixed with tar or bitumen, and reapplied to the road surface. Sometimes new gravel is used to mix in.

Another item of note is that the materials as listed in the survey are a hierarchy. BRICK is the absolute best and most expensive, and UNIMPROVED obviously the worst.

Yet another item of note (we could talk about this all day, couldn't we? Sure!) is that the most common form of road surfacing in 1937 is Dust Layer. This is basically a dirt road sprayed with a thick oil to control dust. There were quite a few City Council meetings back then involving wrangles over where to oil the roads and who gets to have oiled roads, and one meeting when one councilman was accused of oiling the road his house was on, at the expense of needier roads.

Wouldn't it be nice though completely impractical to restore Ypsilanti's beautiful brick-paved heart? Bet you dollars to doughnuts all those bricks are atill right under there, just waiting for a brighter economic climate. They've likely been preserved quite well. Not all the brickage is on the map, due to the aforementioned problem of multi-material streets. And I put a dotted gold line on Washington between Michigan Ave and Ferris--that seems like the logical choice, and I know Washington had one more block of brick, but I wasn't sure if it were north or south of the brick Peal-Michigan ave. section.

So if you were driving around town in the late Depression, you faced a constant kaleidoscope of ever-shifting road surfaces in a system cobbled (heh) together since the town's beginnings.

The Angel of the Depression

Here is a story I'm particularly proud of. I finished researching it just yesterday in the Archives. I hope you like it. "The Angel of the Depression."

The Pennies Were Taken

When a thief broke into T. S. Weber's home at 1023 Washtenaw, he didn't find much.

A desperate look through a nearby desk turned up only a small purse with "a few pennies."

The thief took the pennies.

It was 1932, when the Depression in Ypsilanti had slowly become dire for many.

Until You Have Tasted Trout Baked Electrically, You Cannot Realize What Delicious Meatiness is Achieved by this Healthful Cooking Method

Housewives, have you yearned to save your family money and provide a thrifty "meatless" meal, only to be frustrated by the woeful limitations of the primitive gas stove? Now there's a better way.

You simply can't bake trout properly in anything other than an ELECTRIC stove. Imagine the approving look on your husband's face when, after a hard day of work, he comes home to a succulent meal. Watch the pale, wan faces of your children grow fat and rosy as they gobble up this nutritious treat. Here is the kind of dish that famous chefs glory in preparing--right in your own dining room!

Because gentle moist heat is required to cook it properly, stuffed baked trout is at its finest only when prepared in the flavor-conserving ELECTROCHEF oven. There's really no other alternative. If you want good trout, a happy husband, and rickets-free children, heave out that outmoded gas stove and promptly buy a gleaming new ELECTROCHEF from Detroit Edison!

--Ypsilanti Daily Press, October 24, 1931.

Ypsilanti, 1932 & 2009

What are the parallels, if any, between Depression-era Ypsilanti and our own times? Find out here in my new story!

The Sadness in a Depression-era Grocery Receipt

The pathos of the Depression still shows up in 2009. You can see it.

It could be a grandmother who keeps all of her kitchen cupboards, two hall cupboards, and a fridge and freezer so stuffed with cans and packages of food that there isn't room for anything more, with the stuff in the back, untouched, perhaps ten years old.

It could be a grandfather who for Christmas gives a 30-year-old granddaughter a worn and outdated thermos picnic set bought at a garage sale because it's "still good."

Or it could be a 1930 grocery receipt from the Ypsilanti Archives.


John G. Lamb's grocery, formerly Charles King's grocery, was possibly the longest-running one in Ypsilanti, lasting from 1840 to WWII. It was also one of the first to institute a cash system. But by the Depression, the store had gone back to running monthly tabs for its customers. This one is from P. R. Cleary.

The Irish-born former penmanship teacher P. R. Cleary was the founder and president of Cleary College at this time; he would retire 8 years later at 80 years of age. His wife was the president of the Ypsilanti chapter of the D. A. R. and a member of the Ladies Literary Club. The Clearys had four successful children, Charles, Marjorie, Ruth and Owen. The couple was active and prominent in Ypsilanti social doings.

But in 1930, they apparently could not pay their grocery bill.

For the month of January, Cleary bought $25.92 in groceries. He already had a running tab of $156.64 [$2,000 in today's dollars] and the January foods brought his bill up to $182.56 [$2,300]. A terse note from the grocer is written sideways on the bill: "A payment will be appreciated/J. G. Lamb & Son."

It was a grim time, even for college presidents.

Postscript: For those who, like me, are curious to know what a college president ate during the Depression, here is a transcription for each January day:

2 1 coffee, 1 lb. oats, 25 sugar, 1 bread, 2 lb. loaf sugar, 12 oranges, 6 soap
3 1 butter, 3 P. O. soap, 1 gold dust [scrubbing cleanser], 1 lettuce, 1 cabbage
4 2 bread, 1 box salt, 1 qt. mazola, 1 cheese, 1 lettuce, 1 coffee
7 1 bread, 1/2 bacon, 6 oranges, 6 [more expensive] oranges, 1 lb. crackers
10 12 eggs, 3 D [Dutch?] Cleanser, chipso [laundry soap flakes]
11 1 sani flush, 1 bread, 2 celery, 3 Crisco, 12 oranges, 3 grapefruit
14 1 coffee 12 eggs, 1 peck [quarter bushel] potatoes
15 1/2 lb. tea, 1 bread, 12 oranges, 2 grapefruits, 3 lemons, 1 ripe olives
16 1/2 lb. B. ham [?]
18 1 celery, 5 [lbs?] scratch feed [for chickens] 1 lb. peanuts
21 2 bread, 1 catsup, 1 cabbage, 12 oranges, 1 coffee, bread [cheaper], 12 eggs
23 1 butter 1 lb. ham, olives, 2 cheese, 2 bread
24 coffee 6 soap, 1 chipso, 12 eggs, 5 [lbs?] scratch feed
25 12 oranges, 2 bread, 2 corn [?] 1 lettuce
27 3 grapefruit, 1 rumford [?], 2 soup, 1 celery
28 1 peck potatoes, 12 oranges, 1 gelatin, starch, ham

Several Speeders Voluntarily Increased Their Own Fines

It was a gray October day during the Depression.

The men arrested for speeding sullenly waited their turn in court. Some slumped in the seats.

One sat hunched over, propping his forehead on his palms, staring at the floor. Another sat holding his hat, watching the judge.

How much will the fine be? How will I be able to afford it?

We didn't even have dinner last night.

I have no idea what we're going to do for Christmas--the two youngest are so looking forward to it.

Billy wants some ice skates. There's no way I can afford skates.

The "speeders were brought before Judge John H. Riopelle, suburban justice of the peace," noted the October 1, 1930 Ypsilanti Daily Press. "

"Instead of cash fines Judge Riopelle assessed the speeders so many pairs of shoes, explaining his reasons."

"Twenty-two children of the suburb of Ecorse, who couldn't go to school because their parents couldn't afford shoes for them, were entering classes today, each one shod in brand new footwear."

"Several speeders voluntarily increased their own fines."

Needles, Rags, and an Old Peach Tree

From teacher Lois Prout's classroom, "one can see a two room home made of packing case wood" with paper nailed on as a flimsy covering, "in which a large family is planning to spend the winter."

Inside the classroom, one ten-year-old girl carefully cuts along markings on a man's worn blue shirt, to create three pieces. Another mends kneeholes in a man's pair of wool underwear. A third shows Miss Prout the half-yard of new red cloth her dad had bought her. Combined with some other scraps, it would make enough for an apron.

In 1930, the fourth and fifth grade girls at Harriet School altered old, worn-out clothes into wearable ones that "will clothe children who otherwise might suffer from the severe weather. Stockings, silk, wool, or cotton, are being painstakingly mended...and even old underwear is being cut down to keep little boys and girls warm."

Not only were the children sewing usable garments going back into the community, they were doing it with style--they were hand-sewing on bias tape.

This is the colored decorative strip seen around the edges of things like potholders and aprons. It is folded three times and is devilishly difficult to sew accurately by hand. No problem for these ten-year-olds.

The girls also picked peaches from a tree next to the school and made peach jam. They canned tomatoes, pears, pickles, and grape and crab apple jelly. They made taffy apple refreshments for a school party. Oh, and they plan to redecorate the home ec's model dining room.

There was no stopping these Ypsi girls.

Miss Prout is one of Ypsi's unsung heroes of the Depression. With some needles, some worn-out clothing, and an old peach tree she taught two grades of girls how to create useful, warm, and nourishing things to benefit the community around them.

Dusty D is in awe of the grit and resourcefulness of this dedicated teacher. Hats off to Lois Prout.

Depression-Era Christmas Gift Suggestions: A Study in Modesty

This list of "Christmas Gift Suggestions" from another time of economic difficulty, 1930, offers a poignant portrait of the humble items then considered to be suitable as a special gift.

First up in this Ypsilanti Daily Press ad is a 1930 Atwater Kent radio (pictured). As big as an icebox, this massive console style radio would have dominated a room. In 1930, one could tune this baby in to such shows as Fibber McGee and Molly, Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons, The Green Hornet, Amos 'n Andy, and Burns and Allen.You could buy this model at Hopkins and Augustus, 30 N. Washington, near Pearl St.

The next suggestion, a car battery, like many items on the list is a purely functional gift. Wiedman Auto was right down the street from Hopkins and Augustus, located where the downtown AATA bus terminal is. Dusty Diary wonders if the big parking lot there is a relic of Wiedman's, or if it was on the opposite side of Pearl. This car battery seems incongruous, even for the Depression. One wonders if Wiedman's just threw it in there just for a bit of publicity in this prominent ad--who knows.

The Victor Radio mentioned was another giant console model for sale a block over, on Michigan Ave. Dusty D notes that there are no fewer than 3 separate shops advertising radios--this was clearly the hot new home appliance!

Further down is one of the new *electric* Singer sewing machines (1930 model pictured). This must have seemed very modern to women who grew up seeing their moms use a treadle. By this time, electrics had only been around for about a decade, and, as we have seen, electricity itself had only been around in Ypsilanti for 23 years, since 1907, just about one generation.

The humblest item on this gift list is a "Speedo" jar opener (pictured). This bolted onto the wall and had a faucet-like crank for positioning the jaws over the jar. Dusty D imagines that many families in Ypsilanti were thankful to have any jars of food to open at this time--during the Depression in Ypsi, there were many huge community canning drives to put up food that was then distributed to those who needed it.

Seeing this extremely humble and modest list is a good reminder to DD to be thankful for the many good things she has.