WWW.QNS.COM RIDGEWOOD TIMES MARCH 30, 2017 21 OUR NEIGHBORHOOD: THE WAY IT WAS Refl ecting on Ridgewood during the Depression This photo was taken on 75th Avenue in Glendale in 1929, the year that saw the start of the Great Depression. The grocery store at right was located at 75-01 88th St. Shown at left is a farmhouse that dates back to around 1860. The period of the Great Depression in the U.S. took place from 1929 to 1935, following the stock market crash that occurred in October 1929. At its worst, the Great Depression saw more than 10,000,000 people unemployed and runs on banks by depositors caused several thousand of the banks to close their doors. The generation of Americans who came of age during the Great Depression and served their country in World War II has been dubbed “The Greatest Generation” by Tom Brokaw. Regardless of how old one might have been, we think it’s safe to say that anyone— young or old—who went through the Great Depression had to have been aff ected by the experience. It’s sometimes said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. This week, we will present the observations of the late Walter Hutter, former historian of the Greater Ridgewood Historical Society, who was the originator of the “Our Neighborhood” feature. As published in the Mar. 13, 1980 issue of the Ridgewood Times, Mr. Hutter wrote: “I recall growing up as a young boy during the late 1930s on 66th Street in Glendale, between Myrtle and Cooper avenues. And I remember the people of the Great Depression. “What were they like? “Well, they weren’t given to giggling or giddiness. They were a sober group—straight—and they looked into your face. Most of them. “Always, there were grouchy people: some of them beaten and cynical. As I said, there were a few that had happy go-lucky demeanors, but at least most played it square and tried to be civilized. “The buck was much, as always. But in those days, the quantity of it exerted an undue infl uence on the smiling muscles of a man’s face. “I remember coming home from old St. Pancras School with a chance card to sell. The card had 36 punch holes in it and every time you punched one in, a number popped out, revealing what the chance cost. It usually ranged from eight cents to a quarter. “It was tough trying to sell them. Even your closest uncles would hedge on taking one. Usually, they’d take one. But how many uncles do you have? Uncle was making $20 a week and a 10 or 25-cent piece was a sizeable amount of change to him. Men would walk a mile to save a nickel on trolley fare. “These days, if I didn’t take any chances from my nephews, no matter what the price—fi ve dollars and up— I’d be ostracized from the family. But back then, you were a bloody beggar to pressure uncle like that. To try to sell chances door-to-door was laughable. “People had intense loyalties. I remember once asking Mr. Evers, a middle-aged family friend and World War I veteran (we lived on 72nd Street then) what baseball team he rooted for. He looked at me with a puzzled expression in his eyes, then quietly— in a soft , sincere voice—he answered, ‘The home team, Walter. Always the home team. Brooklyn.’ “As for social status, it was strong. People who lived in one and two-family houses defi nitely walked with a certain pride and were better dressed. Even the simplest child could see the benefi ts of one and two-family house living. Such homes were centrally heated, roomier and the bedrooms were set off from the living area. “Four and six-family house occupants were on a lower scale—one’s rating on the scale depended on the physical condition of the house. People detected those fi ne points. The tenement dwellers were, of course, more interesting people; more human and outward—and more exciting. “Once, Mrs. Edwards, an elderly widow who lived in a two-family house, got into an argument with one of the tenants of our house, a four-family frame. She was so angry, she yelled out, ‘This house has the worse tenants on the block.’ “I was shocked, as a youngster would be! Her attack included me! I concluded she was attacking a way of life, rather than any particular people. In the end, all that mattered was for a house to be a home—happy and clean. “In summation, the Depression people were sensitive yet tough, quiet and longsuff ering—and waiting for better days, though the old timers were rather bitter. They knew by the time it all cleared up, they might be dead. “Well, some of them made it—I hope.” Old Timer’s note—The Apr. 1, 1932 issue of the Ridgewood Times carried a front-page story about a continuing “Block-Aid” campaign, to provide relief to the unemployed and their families in the Greater Ridgewood area. It seemed to be a matter of neighbors helping neighbors through contributions, three-day-a-week jobs provided to the unemployed and help given by the Family Welfare Society of Queens. In addition, local community service organizations such as the Kiwanis and Lions clubs conducted food and clothing drives to help the needy during the Depression. The 1932 story in the Ridgewood Times reports on a meeting at Hettel’s Restaurant on St. Nicholas Avenue— near Myrtle Avenue—where plans for the next wave of assistance were being discussed. Fred C. Lemmerman, borough chairman of the “Block-Aid” campaign, observed, “Ridgewood has never failed and I am looking forward with much faith to Ridgewood doing the best job of relief work it has ever done.” We think that, too, gives us an idea about the kind of people who lived in our neighborhood during the Great Depression. The preceding piece initially ran in the June 5, 2008 issue of the Ridgewood Times.
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