STUNNED BUT CHEERFUL.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 85, 11 April 1933, Page 6

STUNNED BUT CHEERFUL.

ENGLISHMAN'S VIEW OF AMERICA

My chief impression, of present-day America, is that a spiritual awakening has begun,_ a questioning of the materialistic bases of civilisation, a. yearning for mysticism (writes Mr. F. Yeats-Brown in the "Spectator"). The slump, no doubt, is responsible for this new thoughtf illness: wc in Europe have as yet little idea how poor the people of America are. For years the prairie farms have* been exhausted by careless methods, and now they are so heavily mortgaged that their owners cannot pay interest and taxation. Forty per cent of the agricultural area west of the Mississippi is bankrupt. Everywhere the farmers are in an ugly mood. _ Nor are the urban populations content. Much is being done for them (and very little for the farmers), but banks' are still failing and factories are running at half and quarter time. In Chicago, rates have not been paid for two years: the Public Library has not bought a new hook since July, 1931, and the school teachers have not received their salaries for three months: some sort of civic collapse seems inevitable. In Los Angeles there are 50,000 homeless and unemployed, and real estate values have slumped so that mortgages which were considered safe in 1929 are now wild-cat speculations. It is the same everywhere. Twelve to thirteen million unemployed is a staggering burden for any country, and in America the people are accustomed to good standards and great opportunities in life. But it is not true (as I have heard said) that "the Americans are squealing about the hard times." They are surprised, stunned even, but not squealing. "Several of my friends havo gone broke this year," a friend told me; "and it is queer how anxious they are while waiting for the crash to come and how happy they are when they know they are ruined! It's the uncertainty that gives them the jitters. When the worst comes, that's that." Ho did not speak without personal experience. He had made and lost a fortune; and now he was close to the rocks again, although he still kept a couple of hunters. "The family may have to eat them one day," he said, "but meanwhile they give us health and happiness." When I arrived at Jacksonville, Illinois, to address the college for young ladies there, I thought I detected a certain "malaise" in the city, and the lecture committee told me that they did not expect many of the townspeople to come, owing to the depression. It was only after my talk that I discovered that four days previously the chief bank in Jacksonville had closed its doors. The president and vice-president were even then under lock and key, charged "with hypothecating funds which they did not possess. Meanwhile the depositors could not get their money. No wages were being paid. Business was at a standstill. At ten o'clock that night I had to drive thirty miles to make a train connection at Springfield. The chauffeur who took me there had volunteered to make the journey at three dollars less than the standard rate. I asked him why he was taking me so cheaply. His answer was that he could not get any money from the bank, and that he was in need of cash. In fact, he was ruined, but he whistled and sang as if he hadn't a care in the world. That is typical of the spirit in which Americans are taking the slump, and it is a thoroughly Nordic way of facing trouble. The present depression has brought out the best qualities in the American people. As for myself, I never met, in any country, at any time, with so much good will towards England.