Memories Of Depression

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31256, 31 December 1966, Page 9

Memories Of Depression

(By H. R.)

Recent years, with their ■ comparatively narrow price 'fluctuations for the fanners,l tend to make people forget 1 how wide fluctuations can be over a longer period of time. With generally good weather over much of the country last year, and very satisfactory prices for farm products, there is a tendency to consider the crests as normal as they are desirable. But away back in the times of the great depression the 1 late Mr T. D. Burnett, then member of Parliament for Temuka and noted for his conservative views and independence of thought, said i that he considered booms and depressions as inevitable as the tides of the ocean. He was challenged on his opinion. But has anything happened so far to prove him wrong? And while unstable prices may be the black beast of the economic reformer and may at their worst bring financial disaster, under good conditions they give to some great financial gain out of all measure to a person’s individual ln short these fluctuations are the basis of the sayling that life, and especially j farming, is a gamble. I Today, see a load of wool passing along a street on a i transport lorry. It does not need to be a big load to represent a big sum of money. Yet back in the depression it was pointed out that it took the value of 21b of wool to post a letter. Our fleece wool at that time was selling at 4d to 5d per lb, with oddments down to Id per lb while postage was 2d a letter. On March 14, 1939, “The Press” had this paragraph: “Prices as low as those in the recent depression and also as low as those in the slump of the eighties obtained for a ■ line of sheep at the Tinwald ewe fair yesterday. A pen of

1 113 sound-mouth haifbreds i sold at 25s for the line, repreI senting less than 3d each. ■After the yard fee, commis-! sion, and transport fees hadbeen paid it is more than probable that the owner would find that he would have to supplement the price he received for the sheep to' cover the costs involved through the fair.” Again, to show that such a low price was not unique, 'the same paper reported onApril 21, 1939: A line of 47 store ewes was sold at the unusually small figure of 10s —representing less than 3d 'for each ewe—at the fortnightly stock sale at Methven' yesterday. The auctioneer’s commission for the line was 3d which, when added to the yarding fee of 3s lid (Id for each ewe) and a probable' droving charge 10s, made the owner’s expenses 14s 2d—a loss of 4s 2d on the sale. It was stated last night that the Sheep were in fair condition I and would have brought about 7s or 8s each in “good times.” Contrast I A short time ago the writer i sold a flock of sheep that averaged just over £5 each. There was nothing remarkable 'in that except that at that price each sheep represented over 400 at the 1939 prices quoted from “The Press.” But these bad old days seem so far away and long ago as to be of historical significance only. Yet recently a thoughtful youth asked the writer, “What was it like in the depression?” It was a (difficult question and it was very inadequately answered. Some reckon It was just a case of inefficient farming methods. Probably it was one of those who recently rang up the manager of his stock firm i and asked him to send out to his farm a new tractor. The manager knew the farmer already had two tractors and ! was not in a position to I finance a third one and asked ■ what is was needed for. “Well, my two elder boys are each out on a tractor and the youngest boy, who is home from school for the holidays, is in the yard and wants a tractor too.” On the other hand here is a story from the depression. A farmer was ordered to make the trip to Christchurch, about 80 miles, to see the mortgagees about the financial affairs of his farm. He managed to scrape together enough money for his train fare and had only 5d over. With that 5d he bought five small pieces of chocolate. He ate two for his lunch and took the other three pieces home for his family. Another farmer, about this same time, who was a real pillar of his district, decided that as he was getting on in years he should perhaps make his will so as to settle his considerable holding of land to the best interests of his family. He went to his lawyer,

i who got the whole Involved story of the farmer’s financial position. Finally, as I kindly as he could, the lawyer told his client just to go home and forget about the whole matter. There was just nothing left to be willed to the family, the depression had wiped out the whole of the fanner’s equity.

Of course there are stories of a different complexion. If the following one is a chestnut the writer apologises, but protests that at the time he was given full name and address. A ploughman asked his boss for his wages as he was going to town the next day. His boss gave him a cheque which the ploughman duly presented at the bank for cashing, only to have it passed back marked “not sufficient funds." That night an indignant ploughman asked his boss what he was going to do about the matter. An equally indignant boss reItorted, “that’s the worst of those small town banks, they never do keep sufficient funds.”

And there was my Irish neighbour who in those bad times got thoroughly fed up with farming in our “Godforsaken hole,” so he decided to sell out That meant writing out an advertisement for his farm. This he set out to do and, after great effort, accomplished. Proudly he read it out to his wife, only to hesitate towards the end and then ejaculate: “Heil this sounds good. I’m going to keep the bloody place.”

While such flashes of humour did light up the gloom of those many depression years, it was mainly a long, long grind or plain financial disaster. True in the country we had plenty of food, but in the towns many i were hungry, really hungry. And remember there was no social security. In a recent “Reader’s Digest” a writer said, . . in the depression. The hideousness of those years really can’t be conveyed to anyone who didn’t live through them. A job, any job, was the most precious thing we could imagine.” When New Zealanders, and no doubt folk of every other land too, with depression experience refer to those times, they say, “Well we hope we’ll never see the like again,” with something of the intonation that the pious use in saying “amen.” Last year the writer had the great privilege of seeing something of the American way of life. To him the country seemed to be on the crest of tremendous prosperity. He was one day shown over Marshall Field’s big store in Chicago. The big light well in the centre of the building was pointed out “See that grill around it We had to put that up in the depression to stop suicides jumping over and falling to their death. ... We haven’t taken it down