Living History

Memories of the 1930s Depression

I don’t remember being particularly conscious of the Great Depression at the time, when I was between the ages of 10 and 18. Early in the period we lived in the country and I spent four years in boarding school. Later the family moved to a provincial town when I continued as a day student. However, thinking back, aspects of the Depression, as it affected my family and our friends, became apparent.

The late 1920s must have been a period of relative prosperity, at least in the country district we lived in; no doubt wool prices were high. My parents and their friends entertained each other and there were regular tennis and golf parties. In 1928 we, as a family, were even able to take a longish trip to England to visit relatives. But by the 1930s, there was a distinct change in circumstances. My father had no particular occupation, apart from small scale poultry farming, and was beginning to try his luck at free lance writing, a less than lucrative pursuit. Meanwhile my younger siblings were outgrowing lessons by correspondence, more usual then in the days before school buses. So the move to town took place in 1935.

Not that country life was anything but good for the young. Not knowing about refrigeration, electric light, hot water systems, radio or other comforts, we didn’t miss them. While not old enough for the daily job of pumping water from the well, I had the chores of bringing in wood for the kitchen stove and the chip bath heater, as well as having to skin any rabbits my father shot, or those we caught with our dogs for what little we could get for the skins. Sometimes we helped (or hindered) the stockmen on the big property surrounding our few acres with their sheep dipping. We had friends within pony riding distance to play with and in summer there were picnics by the nearest river. Trips to town were infrequent and usually for such necessities as dentists. But to illustrate the general poverty present in the country, I remember a family living in a tent nearby, trying to survive by rabbiting and my mother, a former nurse, helping when the wife and children became sick in these conditions.

In town, in the late 1930s, my parents struggled to keep us all in private schools. Bursaries and generous godparents helped. Some of our friends still in the country were in similar trouble. One of their sons boarded with us for some years. Another family asked for the same help but it couldn’t be managed. In this condition of middle class poverty we lived largely on a small private income of my mother’s. Miraculously she managed to keep us fed and clothed, despite the difficulty of keeping up appearances. My first suit cost three pounds! My father at this stage was away most of the time, trying to find material for his travel articles. My impression is that what couldn’t be paid for with cash, we did without. Certainly credit cards didn’t exist, and the banks would have been very tough about overdrafts. I don’t remember my parents ever going to a restaurant or theatre. Beyond the odd bottle of beer, there was no drink in the house. The car, essential in the country, had been disposed of and we children walked or rode our bicycles, whether to swim in the local river or to go further afield to the seaside. Holidays were spent mainly in the old country district, our favourite occupation being washing for a few specks of gold in the river, complete with mining licences at five shillings each.

I suppose our elders followed the national and international ramifications of the Depression, although they didn’t talk to us about them. Over the period we no doubt accepted the reduced circumstances as normal. Ironically, with the outbreak of World War II, the family position must have improved, as my father got back into uniform and was paid, while I departed the nest and was off their hands.

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