American Progress

by Veda Boyd Jones

  He led the way through the back door and into the kitchen.

  Mother clasped her hands together. “Thank goodness you’re safe!”

  Father was talking on the phone. He glanced at the boys then spoke into the receiver. “It’s okay. He just walked in. Sorry to disturb you, officer.”

  Fred bit back a groan. Officer! Boy, I’m in more trouble than I thought!

  CHAPTER 17

  A Rude Awakening

  Father crossed his arms and glared at Fred. “Where have you been?”

  “Uh, looking for Chet. I was afraid he’d leave the city before I could tell him about the CCC.” I think I’d rather be back in the jungle than here right now! Fred thought. His parents didn’t get angry with him very often, but when they did, watch out!

  Father nodded at Chet. “Glad to see he found you.”

  Fred breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

  Father’s frown grew deeper. “I’m not glad you went out at night without asking permission.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Fred dropped his smile. It looked like he wasn’t going to get off as easy as he’d hoped.

  “I was just on the phone to the police when you came in,” Father told him.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t ever want to have a reason to call them again, do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fred thought Father’s eyes still looked as angry as they had been when he and Chet walked in. “You are going to be grounded for this. I just haven’t decided for how long yet.”

  “Yes, sir. Can you tell Chet more about the CCC now?”

  “I’m too angry to talk about it. We’ll talk tomorrow, when I’ve calmed down. Right now, young man, you will head up to bed.”

  Fred sighed. “Yes, sir.” He lifted one hand in a small wave to Chet. “‘Night.”

  “Boy, parents can sure get upset over nothing,” he muttered, going up the steps to his bedroom. “Why do they have to be so mad? They can see I’m all right. Nothing happened to me. Don’t they know I can take care of myself?”

  The memory of the long minutes in the jungle came flooding back.

  “I guess maybe they did have a good reason to be worried about me.” He glanced out the window at the star-filled sky. “And I guess maybe You were looking out for me, God. Thanks.”

  The next morning after a breakfast of pancakes with depression maple syrup (made with sugar, hot water, and maple flavoring), Father told Chet what he knew about the CCC.

  “FDR made this program to get kids like you off the bread lines and the hobo trains,” Father told Chet.

  Fred tried to watch Chet without staring. It seemed to Fred that Chet’s face was filled with eagerness. Chet placed his elbows on the table, leaned forward to listen, and kept his gaze fixed on Father’s face.

  After Father had told Chet about the camps and the money, he said, “Not everyone who applies will get a job with the CCC. You have to have a physical to show you’re healthy enough to do the hard work that will be required. After all, the men and boys in the CCC will be working at hard, physical labor all day long, six days a week.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work,” Chet told him, “and I’m not a weakling. I’m sure I can pass the physical.”

  Father smiled. “I think you can, too. Now, one of the other rules is that you have to have dependents.”

  Chet frowned. “You mean like kids? I’m not even married.”

  “No, not kids. Just someone who is depending on your money other than you. Like your parents and brothers and sisters.”

  “That’s the best part of this CCC thing.” A grin spread across Chet’s face. “I can send money home to my family. Twenty-five dollars a month won’t make them millionaires, but it will keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. Maybe it will even keep my brothers and sisters in school.”

  “You’ll have to have your parents sign a paper telling the CCC authorities that you are their son, unmarried, and they will be depending on you for the money to support them. Do you think your father will sign such a paper?”

  Fred glanced at Chet. Would his father be too embarrassed to sign it? Would he think it was awful to admit he needed his son’s help that way?

  “I think so, sir,” Chet said.

  “The enrollment begins in a couple weeks. Maybe we should call your parents. You can tell them about your plans and what they’ll need to sign.”

  Chet’s cheeks reddened. “My folks don’t have a telephone.”

  “Then I guess you’d better write them.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do it today.”

  Father gave him a stern look. “Another thing. I want you staying here with us from now on. No more of this sleeping in missions and jungles. You need to be as healthy as possible when you apply to the CCC. Besides, I don’t want Fred to go looking for you again when the letter comes from your father.”

  Fred thought Chet looked a bit embarrassed, but he smiled, and his eyes radiated happiness. “Yes, sir.”

  Father knew the man in charge of the CCC enrollment in the city. He called and asked him what they would need from Chet’s father. Then he told Chet what to tell his father in the letter.

  For the next week and a half, Chet and Fred watched the mailbox for a letter from Chet’s father. Every day, they’d leave the mailbox with a disappointed look on Chet’s face.

  “My dad can’t read and write very well,” Chet admitted to Fred one day after they’d checked for the letter that wasn’t there. “He never finished school. I’m afraid he won’t understand my letter, that he won’t know what I need and how soon.”

  “I’m sure the letter you wrote will explain everything to him real clear,” Fred said, trying to reassure his friend. But Fred himself wasn’t so sure.

  “Maybe they’ll be upset because I haven’t written them more often,” Chet said. “But it’s kind of hard to write when you don’t know what’s happening at home.”

  “They can’t blame you too much for that.” Fred spread his hands. “Besides, where would they have sent letters to you? To a hobo jungle?”

  Chet shrugged and chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

  One night, loud whistles woke Fred from a sound sleep. He jerked upright in bed, looking around frantically. In the bed on the other side of the room, Chet was doing the same thing. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Fred said.

  He climbed out of bed and went into the hall. His father and mother and two brothers were coming out of their rooms. Everyone had wide eyes and startled expressions.

  “What’s going on?” everyone asked.

  Then Chet started laughing. “I know what it is. It’s April sixth. The whistles are from the beer breweries. They’re telling the city it’s legal to buy beer again.”

  Everyone laughed with relief that a big fire hadn’t broken out in the city.

  As they climbed back into their beds, Fred said, “I wish they’d waited until morning to blow the whistles. They could have got us up for the day instead of in the middle of the night!”

  The next day, there still wasn’t a letter in the mailbox for Chet.

  “If it doesn’t come soon, it will be too late,” Chet told Fred.

  It finally arrived on Saturday.

  Chet tore the letter open right away. His eyes shone with joy as he read it. “They say they’re glad to hear from me,” he told Fred. “They say they’ve worried about me, whether I was safe and had enough to eat.”

  Fred just smiled at Chet. I know his family’s love is more important to him than the CCC stuff he needs, but it would embarrass him if I said so.

  Chet grinned at him. “My dad returned the statement your father had me send—the one for the CCC—and he signed it.”

  Later Chet showed it to Fred’s father.

  “Good!” Father said. “It’s just in time. Enrollment in the CCC begins Monday.”

  Fred looked at Chet’s happy face. Chet had to be accepted in t
he CCC. He just had to!

  CHAPTER 18

  A New Life for Chet

  Anna hung the cone-shaped receiver on the side of the wooden wall phone in the kitchen. Excitement was shooting through her. She turned to her mother, who was wiping the supper dishes.

  “Guess what! Chet went to apply for the CCC today.” Anna’s words rushed out.

  “Was he accepted?” Mother asked.

  “Yes! Well, almost. They told him he’s accepted if he passes the physical exam tomorrow at the army recruiting station.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  Anna hurried across the room and leaned against the counter beside her mother. “Do you think we could invite the Pattersons and Chet to supper tomorrow night to celebrate? With a cake and ice cream for dessert?”

  She held her breath. She’d hardly dared ask! Father’s hours and pay weren’t very good anymore. The family had become more and more careful about stretching their food dollars. And they already had the Pattersons over every other Sunday.

  Mother laughed. “Don’t you think we should wait until Chet knows for certain he’s accepted before we celebrate?”

  “But I’m sure he’ll pass! Anyway, we don’t have to tell him it’s a celebration until we know for sure he’s passed. If he doesn’t pass, maybe the supper and cake and ice cream will make him feel better.” She bit her bottom lip for a second, then asked, “Can we afford a cake and ice cream?”

  Mother smiled and patted her shoulder. “I think for something as special as this we can manage it.”

  “Good!”

  Anna was right. Chet did pass the physical. He was beaming the next evening at the supper table when he told everyone what came next.

  “I’m to report to Fort Snelling,” he said.

  Fred laughed. “That sounds like you’re in the army!”

  “That’s how they treat us. Army officers will be in charge of the CCC camps. We’ll live in camps like soldiers and be given clothes to wear, like uniforms.”

  Chet tried to make it sound matter-of-fact, but Anna could see he was proud to be treated like a man in the army. “Why do you go there?” she asked.

  “It’s kind of like an army training camp. We’ll be divided into companies, or groups. Then they’re going to put us on a program to toughen us up so we can do the work they send us to do.”

  “I think this sounds like a wonderful program,” Anna’s mother told Chet. “I’m sure you’ll be good at the job.”

  Chet beamed at her. “A place to sleep, three meals a day, and I’ll be paid for it. A man couldn’t ask for much more than that.”

  “It’s not just young men like Chet who are going to benefit from this program,” Fred’s father told everyone, “or their families. There are already reports going out that doctors and nurses will be needed at the camps, and of course, people will need to supply things like food. Things like that will create more jobs. The government’s going to pay for everything that’s needed.”

  After awhile, they began talking about things other than the CCC.

  “Did you know Minnesota’s legislature passed a new state income tax?” Anna’s father asked. “The money will be used for the schools.”

  Anna jerked up straight. “Does that mean our schools won’t be closed?”

  Father grinned. “I think so. But you still want them to close for summer vacation, don’t you?”

  Anna laughed at her father’s joke.

  When it was time for dessert, Mother let Anna carry the cake to the dining room. Mother had put it on one of her pretty crystal plates. It was heavy, so Anna carried it carefully and walked slowly. It was so heavy that she almost had to hold her breath when she set it down beside Chet.

  “This is for you.” She smiled at him. “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks, Anna. Did you make this cake?”

  She nodded. She had hurried home from school to make it so it would be cool enough to frost before supper.

  “That’s very nice of you.” His smile made all the trouble she’d gone to worthwhile.

  Three weeks later, Anna and Dot rode with Fred in the back of his father’s car to Fort Snelling. Fred’s parents were in front.

  “I’ve kind of missed Chet since he went to Fort Snelling to train,” Fred told them. “I was getting used to having him around the house.”

  Father stuck his arm out the window, straight, to signal a left turn. A minute later, the three children slid into each other as he turned a corner. They straightened up again right away.

  “I’m glad he made it into the CCC,” Anna said, “but I wish he wasn’t going to be sent far away from Minneapolis.”

  Fred nodded. He felt the same way.

  Fort Snelling was in St. Paul, across the river from Minneapolis. The fort stood on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.

  Fred had driven past the fort before, but he’d never been inside it. He liked the old stone walls and round tower. The fort was one of the earliest places non-Indian people lived in Minnesota, other than priests and fur traders. He could easily imagine soldiers and their families in this old fort almost one hundred years ago.

  “Soldiers from Minnesota came here when they were sent to the Civil War, the Spanish-American War, and the Great War,” Fred told Anna and Dot.

  “And now Chet is being sent out with the CCC in the war against unemployment,” Father said from the front seat.

  Fred hadn’t thought of it like that before.

  Inside the walls of the fort, they found the young men who were with the CCC. They were all dressed alike, with dark trousers, khaki shirts, and boots. Even their hats and khaki coats were the same. They were all wearing their coats, too. Although it was the first week in May, it was cold.

  Fred grinned at Anna. “Dressed alike that way, they do almost look like they’re in an army, don’t they?”

  She nodded. “Yes, they do.”

  Fred spotted Chet and waved. “Chet! Over here!”

  Chet came jogging toward them. After greetings, Fred asked, “Do you know where they’re sending you?”

  “Yeah. My company is going to the Superior National Forest in northern Minnesota. We’ll be cutting trees, thinning them out in overgrown areas, planting trees in others, and even fighting forest fires—if there are any.”

  They only had time to talk for a couple minutes before there was a call for the company to assemble.

  Chet shook hands with Fred’s father. Then he shook hands with Fred. Quietly he said, “Thanks, friend. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  Then he said a quick good-bye to Fred’s mother, Anna, and Dot. “Thanks for coming!” Chet called over his shoulder as he started to jog back toward his company. “I’ll write you!”

  “You’d better!” Fred called.

  An army officer called the company to order. Soon they were marching past wooden barracks toward army transport trucks. They swung their hats above their heads, waving at the family, friends, and newspaper reporters who had come to see them off.

  “Every one of them is wearing a grin as wide as the Mississippi,” Fred said, grinning himself.

  Father nodded. “You can tell how proud every one of them is to be headed to do a man’s job. It’s hard on a man when, through no fault of his own, he can’t support himself.”

  I wish I were going with them, Fred thought. Of course, he would never be accepted into the CCC, even if he were old enough. He knew that. His father made too much money compared to these young men. Harry had already asked about it, wanting to go himself.

  Dot sighed. “I wish there were something like the CCC for married men like my father.”

  “FDR has been working on that,” Fred’s father told her.

  “Really?” She turned wide, hopeful eyes to him.

  It must be awful to always be wondering when your father is going to find a job, Fred thought, watching her.

  “Really,” Father said. “Congress has passed a law to help unemployed men. It’s c
alled NIRA, the National Industrial Relief Act.”

  Dot shook her head. “I don’t care what it’s called, just so long as it gives men like Father jobs.”

  Fred’s father laughed. “Is your father going to Washington with the veterans?”

  “Not this time. He says he can’t afford to be away from his job at the Organized Unemployed for that long. But our family prays every night that President Roosevelt will listen to the veterans and give them their bonuses.”

  It seemed only a couple minutes before the men were on the transport trucks. Fred waved furiously as the truck carrying Chet passed. Chet waved back with that wide grin still on his face.

  A pang of loneliness shot through Fred. He was going to miss Chet a lot. But I’m glad for him, he thought. He remembered Chet’s words of thanks. I really am glad for him.

  CHAPTER 19

  A Terrible Mistake

  The news on the radio and in the newspapers was full of the veterans in Washington the next few days.

  “Did you hear that the president met with some of the veterans?” Dot asked when she came to Anna’s house one afternoon.

  “Yes. And Mrs. Roosevelt met with six hundred disabled veterans on the White House lawn,” Anna said. “Nothing like that happened when your father and the other Bonus Marchers were in Washington last year.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  Later on the news, the reporter told of the president’s wife, Eleanor Roosevelt, leading the veterans in Washington through ankle-deep mud, singing, “There’s a Long, Long Trail A-Winding.”

  Dot and Anna laughed at the picture it created in their minds. They stopped laughing to hear the reporter’s next words, for he was still talking about the veterans.

  “FDR has announced that twenty-five thousand positions in the CCC will be given to veterans.”

  Dot gasped. Then she smiled. “I wonder if Father will be one of the men to get a job with the CCC.”

  Anna hoped so. Her heart hurt for all that her friend and her family were going through.

  Dot’s smile faded. “I don’t know if I’d like him to live far away from the family in the north woods, though, like Chet is doing.”