HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN

On the night of the Presidential election of 1932 it looked as if everyone in town had turned out to watch the returns, which were posted on a huge blackboard on the main street. Most of the people in De Funiak were hoping to hear that Franklin Delano Roosevelt had won big.

What excitement there was as people exchanged views and speculations. My father, mother, sister and I had arrived early in order to get the first returns. I think also my father relished the opportunity for as much conversation as possible on one of his favorite topics--politics.

"What do you think, Malcolm?" friends would ask. To which Daddy, an avid Democrat, would reply, "I think the people finally realize that the Republicans care only about the rich. The country's in terrible shape. Yes, I think FDR will certainly win. Question is by how large a vote."

“Hooray,” the shouts went up. "Look at that!" the crowd exclaimed as precinct after precinct came in overwhelmingly for Roosevelt. The radio in the drug store across the street gave cause for further jubilation as returns from over the state and nation were announced. I recall the singing of “Happy Days Are Here Again", some usually sedate men dancing little jigs, and the shouting and clapping each time new returns confirmed the crowds' desires. Hope and anticipation of change for the betterment of the lives of people was exhilarating.

Although the entire nation was in the grip of the Depression, I think people in the South were leading especially precarious lives financially. Those whose families had once been prosperous, which was the case with my family, had a slight advantage as they could buy on credit. However, bills must ultimately be paid and borrowing power was becoming seriously curtailed. My father's anxiety was not hidden from us children.

For other people the situation was even more desperate. No credit for them and no work. Not much to eat. Barely enough clothing for summer, much less winter. It was a sad and painful time, but Mr. Roosevelt would change things.

Sure enough, in a matter of weeks after the election, most houses in our town displayed NIRA (National Industrial Recovery Act) stickers in a front window and though recovery had not yet touched our family, hope for the future lifted everyone's spirits.

Soon, there were government programs for putting people to work and providing food for needy families. A new post office was built in our town. Roads were repaired and new ones built. Musicians and artists were employed to enrich the cultural lives of communities. A hot lunch was provided at school for 10¢ and a free lunch for children who could not pay.

I recall the wonderful aroma from the kitchen, which had been constructed next to my fourth grade classroom. Occasionally, my sister and I would be given the prized 10¢ so we, too, could eat in the cafteria. Usually, however, we walked the short distance to our house for the mid-day meal. Sometimes I would invite a girl, who sat in the desk across from me, to go home with me for lunch. Edna Ruth rode the bus to school from one of the small farms out in the county. Whenever I noticed that she had not brought a sack lunch and had not lined up to go to the cafeteria as the teacher directed, I urged her to accompany me. My parents welcomed her. Later, when I lamented the plight of Edna Ruth's not having a regular lunch, my father explained that her dad was likely too proud to request a free lunch.

My friend and I never discussed the lack of the dime or a sack lunch OF the fact that her father must have been too proud to ask for the free lunch for her. After only a few visits to our home, Edna Ruth was forbidden by her father to continue this. Pride hung on even in the face of terrible adversity: It would be years before restoration of dignity was felt by a majority of people it the South.

From all the “leaning on shovels" disparagement that I heard of WPA,  (Works Project Act) in later years, I never saw any. What I remember most vividly and what personally touched my life the most was the opportunity for our small town to hear and see and participate in the arts, all WPA programs. Musicians were organized to hold classes and give lessons throughout the county. My mother, a pianist who had studied at leading Southern colleges, as well as in Chicago and New York City, was a part of this effort, after the death of my father.

A Florida symphony orchestra, composed of excellent, but previously unemployed musicians, gave concerts in all parts of the State. Their visit to our town was a major event for which everyone dressed in their finest, dated though some of the evening apparel might be.

A Shakespearean company of WPA actors performed in the town's cavernous, dome-topped Chautauqua auditorium. People who might never have seen or heard professional actors speak so eloquently the beauty of Shakespeare had that unique opportunity.

The Roosevelt programs for recovery made a dramatic and life changing difference for the people of the South. But it was Eleanor Roosevelt, with her sensitivity to the injustices experienced by poor and black people, who touched off what years later became the most revo utionary change.

Mrs. Roosevelt was mercilessly mocked in the press for championing the cause of rights for all persons, including people of color. Gradually I became aware of the depth of appreciation that black people felt for Mrs. Roosevelt and the anger suppressed when criticism of her or her husband was expressed in their presence.

I recall one particular incident which occurred while visiting in another town at the home of a man of considerable wealth. This man hated FDR for what he considered constraints on business and government meddling through an income tax. I recall his harangues against “social programs” and statements that people who were poor deserved to be--they were simply not industrious enough. As for black people, for "Nigras," in his view they were inferior and were treated accordingly. This was not the attitude of my immediate family.

At the dinner table, our host savagely attacked Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. Mrs. Roosevelt was particularly maligned for her concerns over “Nigras." I looked with embarrassment at the face of Velma, the black maid who was serving dinner. Her face was expressionless yet steely. I could actually feel her rage and resentment, for shivers of that emotion went through me, too. Yet Velma continued her work. Not long afterwards, however, from the kitchen came a crashing sound followed by mournful sounds of “Lord, Lord," as a beautiful Limoges dish was “accidentally” dropped. The hostess and I rushed to the kitchen. Never dreaming that a faithful servant might dare to deliberately break a treasured possession, we comforted Velma. I lingered to help her clean up.

Of course, I never told anyone, but I am sure I saw Velma give a "cat that swallowed the canary" smile as our hostess left the kitchen to return to her guests.

I reckoned that if I had been called inferior and treated that way, I too would be very angry. Later, I wondered how black people contained their distress and humiliation and continued their kindness to white people, when they were discriminated against so blatantly.

Under FDR, better days, happy days became a reality for a majority of people—a fact I hope Southerners will never forget. But it was the admirable Eleanor Roosevelt whose influence and actions ultimately changed patterns of relatedness and growing equality between black and white people across the South. On that night in 1932, no one would have dreamed of such far-reaching results.