THE SPRING OF '31

A Hoover cart was a new-fangled contraption built with the axle and two rear wheels of an old discarded automobile. There were plenty of those, so a cheap wooden frame and a seat were constructed above the axle and a pair of shafts attached so a mule could be hitched to it. The rubber tires gave it an easy ride, so these carts became popular with the diminished use of family cars.

So this stream of homemade vehicles paraded down Market Street with music and much ado while the crowds cheered. The winner of the affair was a guitar player who eliminated the mule and hitched himself to his cart, hobbling along and singing "Hoover Stole My Mule".

Political rhetoric was flying. President Hoover was trying desperately to do something to appease the populace. The government had passed a "Bonus Bill" in the early ‘20's for veterans of WWI to be paid an amount of cash in 1945. There was a clamor for this money to be paid immediately in 1932. . The House of Representatives passed the bill. Veterans numbering 15,000 marched to Washington to pressure the Senate into passing the bill, too, to make it law. They did not pass it. The angry group had to be dispersed by Federal troops.

What We Were Up To In '32

Carlton (alias Tom in later years) had turned 10 on Jan. 21, was in the fourth grade and playing the fiddle with much skill. I, Edwin, (alias Jim), 2nd grade, was admiring my growing collection of beautiful glass marbles, throwing home-made string baseballs back to Carlton who was trying to throw curve balls, and strumming chords on the mandolin in accompaniment with him and Dad. Julia, lst grade, with her beautiful red hair and bangs was - well I don't remember what she was doing, something challenging, I am sure, but she was right in there with Carlton and me racing around the farm. Braxton, only four, was picking up speed but hadn't been put to work yet. Mother was busy thinking of new enterprising ways to enhance our economic position and I think I had been selected as her main helper. And Dad was making plans to take Carlton and me out to some public places, like filling stations, to perform a little music for the Saturday night idlers around the big wood stoves. I recall vividly riding our Model-T to Clifton Beasley's store near the river at Smithfield and playing on a cold winter night to an enthusiastic crowd of about ten gathered around the stove. Everybody was happy and soon Dad pulled his hat off and handed it to me to pass around to see how much they had enjoyed our music. This was a new adventure for me but I did it with a vague smile - and a few coins dropped into the hat. This could pay better than marbles!