Book Review
And a Time for Hope:
Americans in the Great Depression. By
James R. McGovern. Westport, Conn.: Praeger Publishers, 2001, pp.
368. $35.00.
James
McGovern's book shows that the way we view the lives of Americans
during the Depression is far from how they saw themselves. There
is a well-understood narrative about the Great Depression built
from photography, literature, and collective memories,
which places the American people in the role of the victim,
helplessly hobbled by economic forces
they could
do nothing about.1
The
Farm Security
Administration's Historical Section produced photographs documenting
small town life and the plight of the
poor to demonstrate to the American people the
problems the New Deal was meant to fix.2
John
Steinbeck's 1939 Grapes
of Wrath
and the 1940 film adaptation by John Ford adds to the FSA's
photographs a story of poor Oklahoma farmers that migrated to
California, but the characters' overwhelming victimization never
allows them to become clear representations of the real “Okies”.3
McGovern's attempt to break the reader away from the culturally approved narrative of the story was far from easy. The feelings images and stories create are notoriously difficult to shift. Dorothea Lange's iconic photograph, “Migrant Mother,” which shows Florence Thompson, deep worry lines etched into her face and three of her children clutching at her, produces an immediate emotional reaction.4 The effects of her photographs were intentionally aimed at lawmakers, according to Lange's private correspondence with another FSA photographer.5 To break the spell of the powerfully emotive pictures, McGovern had to turn away from them, and look at the photographers and the FSA to find their motivations and aims.
While
not the first historian to question the FSA's photos, McGovern does
not merely call attention to the nearly hyperbolic portrayal of
poverty, but he seeks to explain why the
pictures
were taken as they were.6
The
photographers not only snapped their photos, but in
the process they
spoke
with their
subjects
and came
to know them
as proud and courageous people.7
The
images were not unmotivated, the photographers themselves seemed to
know that the pictures were more depressed than the people in them.
They
had a job to do, to produce images that could sway Congress, but
they gained an appreciation for
the people they were sent to document.
McGovern's
book has a similar, but
opposite
effect. Instead
of producing evidence of how bad things were, his
goal
was to show what had not
previously
been pictured, and to flesh out the character of the average American
in the Depression. The
chapters
independently deal with a specific slice of American life, starting
with the familiar political histories, replete with analysis of major
movements and big men. Dedicating an entire chapter to Franklin
Roosevelt, McGovern shows the unique character of
the author of the New Deal. McGovern's depiction of the deep
connection the American people had with Roosevelt comes across as
Rockwellian, if it were not
for the evidence that he cited; a collection of excerpts
from letters written as responses to one Fireside Chat. When
not read with a nostalgic lens, they
show
FDR to be an excellent public speaker and his audience naive
of radio performance tricks.8
However,
taking FDR as a symbol of hope needed by the people, McGovern departs
the normal fare
of
top-down political history in favor of a narrative social history.
Each
chapter can be seen as a reasonably supported essay on a particular
topic, nearly in isolation from the rest of the book. Some chapters
seemed lacking or overly nostalgic. In
his
treatment of the Okie migration to
California, he is critical of Steinbeck's exclusion of those that
moved into the cities, but only spends a paragraph on that group. By
the
end of it he
chooses to turn away from them to focus only on the demographics
represented in Grapes
of Wrath.9
He seems to gloss over the negative Californian reaction to the
makeshift towns the Okies were building on the outskirts of other
communities. He mentions that 49% of college students that wrote
essays about “Little Oklahoma” ran a range between disapproving
to downright hostile (wishing
harm upon them)
and discriminatory, but he immediately
moves past that point and
finishes that same paragraph by showing that some Okies came to see
themselves as Californians.10
While
it is good that the negative reaction was mentioned, he did not
develop it
any further or show any evidence of how else that might have impacted
the
Okies'
lives. The
preference is to talk about how they adapted instead of dwelling on
the challenges they faced. Perhaps they need only be mentioned, but
the effect is jarring and seems to downplay the
hardships
a minority faced.
This
is better seen in chapter 7, where
he talks about
African Americans in the South. There
is something deeply disturbing about lauding a mistreated minority
for exploiting the exploitation. McGovern relates how some Southern
blacks were using the white-imposed caste system, white prejudices,
and low-to-negative
expectations to their “advantage.” I have to admit that I am
hard pressed to see cooks taking a little food, petty theft, and
hucksterism as
at all remotely close to an “advantage” when one is expected to
act like, and is treated like one is unworthy
of
basic human dignity.11
Supported
by social scientists that studied race relations in the 1930s,
McGovern goes one step further and claims that blacks enjoyed the
caste
system because segregation allowed
them to live apart from whites.12
It seems to
me ridiculously obvious
that one
possible explanation is that oppressed people are not
likely to prefer living with their oppressors. McGovern's move here
is to go directly and explicitly to “nostalgia” and focus on the
happy memories of
the African
American
community.13
By downplaying the hardships of a mistreated minority in favor of highlighting only the happiest and the best aspects, this approaches symbolic annihilation of those that did suffer and succumb to those hardships. They are written out. While there are plenty of other sources that cover the hardships, it is clear they might not tell the whole story, but reaching in the opposite direction and ignoring unpleasantness does not seem to be a good response. The problem with this book is that in places it is a history of the happy. It would be unfair to say that it is a Rockwellian look back, but only because it is well-sourced.
In the end, I recommend this book, but only to those that already have an understanding about the Depression, and race issues in the South. I fear that if this was the only book on those topics that someone reads, the view would be overly optimistic. Like the FSA's photographs, this book is not without its uses, but it was written for a purpose. The picture it presents is carefully framed and exquisitely composed specifically to turn the lens away from the known hardships of the Depression, to focus on the character of the people, and to show how government responses complemented and supported the hopes and dreams of the American people.14 Nonetheless, McGovern succeeds in showing there is reason to doubt that everyone experienced the Depression in the way that Florence Thompson was shown.
1 James
McGovern, And a Time for Hope: Americans in the Great Depression
(Westport, Conn.: Praeger,
2001), 267.
2 McGovern,
70.
3 Ibid.,
105-6.
4 Ibid.,
71.
5 Ibid.,
70.
6 Ibid.,
72.
7 Ibid.,
74.
8 Ibid.,
40.
9 Ibid.,
107-8.
10 Ibid.,
109.
11 Ibid.,
127.
12 Ibid.,
128.
13 Ibid.,
128.
14 Ibid.,
267 and 279-80.
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