Steinbeck's myth of the Okies
by Keith Windschuttle
John Steinbeck performed a rare feat for a writer of fiction. He
created a literary portrait that defined an era. His account of
the Okie Exodus in The Grapes of Wrath became the principal
story through which America defined the experience of the Great
Depression. Even today, one of the enduring images for anyone
with even a passing familiarity with the 1930s is that of
Steinbecks fictional characters the Joads, an American farming
family uprooted from its home by the twin disasters of dust
storms and financial crisis to become refugees in a hostile
world. Not since Dickenss portrayal of the slums of Victorian
England has a novelist produced such an enduring definition of
his age.
According to Penguin Books, which produced a very handsome series
of paperbacks to mark the centenary of his birth this February,
Steinbecks novels still generate a combined sale of around two
million books a year. Originally published in 1939, The Grapes
of Wrath remains a widely studied text in both high schools and
universities, and the 1940 John Ford film of the book still enjoys
healthy sales on videotape and frequent reruns on classic movie
shows on cable television. The story that these various audiences hear
goes like this:
Dust storms and bank foreclosures during the Great Depression
forced a mass migration of hundreds of thousands of small
landowners and sharecroppers from the American southwest,
especially Oklahoma, Arkansas, and east Texas. Enticed by false
advertising, impoverished farming families loaded their
possessions onto ramshackle automobiles and pickup trucks to
brave the thousand-mile journey westward to California where they
hoped to revive their fortunes and regain their livelihood on the
land. This American version of Exodus faced its own Sinai
crossing in the Arizona desert, where many vehicles broke down or
ran out of gas. Those who survived the hazardous passage to the
promised land, however, found the large corporations that
controlled Californian agriculture used the rapidly growing
number of migrants to continually beat down harvest wages. Police
and vigilantes set upon those who complained or resisted,
especially if they were suspected of being reds or Communist
agitators. The Okies ended up landless, homeless, and
impoverished, forced to watch their children starve in a land of
plenty. Folk singers like Woody Guthrie, in his Dust Bowl
Ballads, expressed their bitterness and anger: Im goin down
the road feelin bad. Lawd. Lawd. And I aint gonna be treated
this-a-way.
Although it is about the experiences of the fictional Joad
family, The Grapes of Wrath was always meant to be taken
literally. Borrowing from John Dos Passoss U.S.A. trilogy and
other works in the realist or documentary genre of the time,
Steinbeck interspersed his fictional chapters with passages that
gave a running account of the prevailing social, climatic,
economic, and political conditions. Steinbeck himself had
researched the living conditions of the Okies for a series of
newspaper articles he wrote for a San Francisco newspaper, and,
soon after his novel appeared, its tale was confirmed by the
publication of Americas most famous work of photographic essays,
Dorothea Lange and Paul S. Taylors American Exodus, which traced
every step of the Okies tragic journey across the country. In
other words, Steinbecks book was presented at the time as a work
of history as well as fiction, and it has been accepted as such
ever since. Unfortunately for the reputation of the author,
however, there is now an accumulation of sufficient historical,
demographic, and climatic data about the 1930s to show that almost
everything about the elaborate picture created in the novel is
either outright false or exaggerated beyond belief.
For a start, dust storms in the Thirties affected very little of
the farming land of Oklahoma. Between 1933 and 1935, severe wind
erosion did create a dust bowl in the western half of Kansas,
eastern Colorado, and the west Texas/New Mexico border country.
While many Oklahoma farms suffered from drought in the mid-1930s,
the only dust-affected region in that state was the narrow
panhandle in the far west. Steinbeck wrote of the dust storms:
In the morning the dust hung like fog, and the sun was as red as
ripe new blood. All day the dust sifted down, and the next day it
sifted down. An even blanket covered the earth. It settled on the
corn, piled up on the tops of the fence posts, piled up on the
wires; it settled on roofs, blanketed the weeds and trees.
But nothing like this happened anywhere near where Steinbeck
placed the Joad family farm, just outside Sallisaw, Oklahoma,
part of the cotton belt in the east of the state, almost on the
Arkansas border. In the real dust bowl, it is true that many
families packed up and left, but the historian James N. Gregory
has pointed out that less than 16,000 people from the dust-affected areas went to California, barely six percent of
the
total from the southwestern states. Gregory blames contemporary
journalists for the misunderstanding:
Confusing drought with dust, and assuming that the dramatic dust
storms must have had something to do with the large number of
cars from Oklahoma and Texas seen crossing the California border
in the mid-1930s, the press created the dramatic but misleading
association between the Dust Bowl and the Southwestern migration.
It is true that many people left Oklahoma for California in the
1930s. This was anything but a novel phenomenon, however. People
had been doing the same since before World War I, as the
southwestern states economy failed to prosper and as better
opportunities were available in other regions. Between
1910 and 1930, 1.3 million people migrated from the southwest to
other parts of the United States. In the 1920s, census data show that about
250,000 of them went to California, while in the 1930s this total
was about 315,000. The real mass migration of Okies to California
actually took place in the 1940s to take advantage of the boom in
manufacturing jobs during World War II and its aftermath. In this
period, about 630,000 of them went to the west coast. It was not
the Depression of the 30s but the economic boom of the 40s that
caused an abnormal increase in Okie migration.
Moreover, most of the migrants who did leave Oklahoma in the
Depression were not farmers. Most came from cities and towns. The
1940 Census showed that in the period of the supposed great Okie
Exodus between 1935 and 1940, only thirty-six percent of
southwesterners who migrated to California were from farms. Some
fifty percent of these migrants came from urban areas and fitted
occupational categories such as professionals, proprietors,
clerical/sales, skilled laborers, and semi-skilled/service
workers. Predictably, they had a similar distribution when they
joined the Californian workforce. Their favorite destination was
Los Angeles, which attracted almost 100,000 Okies between 1935
and 1940, with about a quarter as many going to the cities of San
Francisco and San Diego. Of the two major destinations for
agricultural workers, the San Joaquin Valley attracted 70,000 and
the San Bernadino/Imperial Valley region 20,000 migrants. This
fell considerably short of their demographic portrait in The
Grapes of Wrath:
And the dispossessed, the migrants, flowed into California, two
hundred and fifty thousand, and three hundred thousand. Behind
them new tractors were going on the land and the tenants were
being forced off. And new waves were on the way, new waves of the
dispossessed and the homeless, hardened, intent and dangerous.
Steinbeck blamed the banks for their plight. Rather than allowing
small farms and tenant farmers the right to exist, the banks
fostered competition, mechanization, land consolidation, and
continual expansion. The bankthe monster has to have profits
all the time. It cant wait. When the monster stops growing, it
dies. It cant stay one size. He compared this inhuman
imperative to the rights of those who worked the land:
We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. Even if
its no good, its still ours. Thats what makes it oursbeing
born on it, working on it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not
a paper with numbers on it.
Were sorry [say the owner men]. Its not us. Its the monster. The bank isnt like a
man.
Ironically, for someone whose politics have been described by his
several biographers as a typical New Deal Democrat, Steinbeck
identified the wrong culprit. In two separate studies of the
plight of southern tenant farmers in the 1930s, the historians
David Eugene Conrad and Donald H. Grubbs have blamed not the
banks but the agricultural policies of the New Deal itself. In
the early 1930s, some sixty percent of farms in Oklahoma,
Arkansas, and Texas were operated by tenants. However, during
the Depression they found themselves victims of Franklin
Roosevelts 1933 Agricultural Adjustment Act, which required
landlords to reduce their cotton acreage. Fortified by AAA
subsidies, the landlords evicted their tenants and consolidated
their holdings. It was government handouts, not bank demands,
that led these landlords to buy tractors and decrease their
reliance on tenant families. By 1940, tenant farmer numbers had
declined in the southwest by twenty-four percent.
In The Grapes of Wrath, thirteen members of the Joads extended
family set out in the one vehicle, including grandparents and
grand-children. In two moving scenes, both Grampa and Granma die
en route. Along the way, in-laws and uncles also abandon them,
leaving Ma Joad, who is in her fifties, to try to keep the rest
of the family together. This entourage would have been demographically
unusual. Rather than large families extending over several
generations, the most common trekkers from the southwest to
California were composed of husband, wife, and children, an
average of
4.4 members. Only twenty percent of households
included other relations. Most were young. Of the adults, sixty
percent were less than thirty-five years old. They were also
better educated than those of the same age group who stayed
behind. In other words, they were typical of those who have
undertaken migration in every era, whether over the Rockies or
across the Atlantic: upwardly rather than downwardly mobile young
people seeking better opportunities for themselves and their
children.
The most comprehensive historical study of the background of the
Okie migrants was written by James N. Gregory in 1989. Its title,
American Exodus: The Dust Bowl Migration and Okie Culture in
California, indicates that the author did not set out to
demolish any of the myths generated by Steinbeck, Guthrie, and
Lange. This, however, is what he actually does accomplish,
especially in his account of the motivations of those who went to
California. The Joads packed up and left for no better reason
than a yellow handbill Pa Joad found saying there were good wages
and plenty of work in California. According to later chapters of
the novel, this was simply an advertising ploy by the great
owners of California to entice more men than they needed to
their harvest so they could reduce wages. Hence the Joads set out
for a region about which they knew nothing. To find work, they
could only wander helplessly from one location to the next.
Gregory argues that the real migrants were much better
informed than this. Most had direct information about working
conditions from relatives already there. Two-thirds of Okies
interviewed in the Salinas Valley had relatives living in
California before they came west. In two other surveys in
Sacramento Valley and Kern County, the majority of migrants said
relatives or friends had been instrumental in their decision to
relocate. All of this suggests, Gregory writes, that the Dust
Bowl migration was not an atomistic dispersion of solitary
families but a guided chain migration of the sort very typical
for both trans-Atlantic immigrants and rural-to-urban
immigrants. Some families generated their own migration chains,
sending out a teenage son or young male relative to explore
California before deciding whether to follow him. Gregory
provides examples of some young men who made several such
exploratory trips west during the 1930s.
In the film of The Grapes of Wrath, Steinbecks statement that
people owned their land not because they had a piece of paper but
because they had been born on it, worked on it, and died on it
is given to the half-crazy character Muley Graves. His
sentiments, and the injustice of the dispossession behind them,
resonate throughout the drama. Again, however, these remarks bear
very little relationship to the real farmers of Oklahoma.
American rural communities have rarely been populated by the
permanent, hidebound settlers that urban journalists and
novelists have so condescendingly assumed. Southwestern farmers
in the early twentieth century were highly mobile people who felt
free to move about in search of better land or even to leave the
land for opportunities in town. At the 1930 Census, forty-four
percent of Oklahoma farmers and forty-seven percent of those in
Arkansas said they had been on their current farms for less than
two years. They were actually more mobile than the national farm
average, where only twenty-eight percent answered the same. A
1937 study by a sociologist found that the average Oklahoma
farmer moved four times in his working life, five times if he was
a tenant. The Joads, who had all grown up in the same place where
Grampa had fought off snakes and Indians in the nineteenth
century, would have been most unusual Oklahomans.
A large part of Steinbecks success with his reading public lay
in his ability to merge deep, mythical concerns with the American
experience. One of the reasons why his Okie story defined the
era, while other Depression tales of poverty and hardship did
not, was its theme from Exodus. But, once more, this part of the
tale had very little historical authenticity. The road the
migrants took was not a Biblical camel track but the
comparatively new national highway Route 66, which since the
1920s had provided a direct route from the southwest to the
California coast. Steinbeck treats the road more like a covered
wagon trail than the fast, modern highway it actually was. In
reality, if their car was in good shape, an Oklahoma family in
the 1930s could make it to California in three days. Rather than
taking weeks while yarning about their hardship with other
travellers and singing folk songs around campfires, the real
migrants slept en route in auto courts (motels) for two or three
nights. While some used the highway several times in the 1930s to
test job prospects, others did the same simply to pay short
visits to relatives. Gregory writes:
Ease of transportation was the key both to the volume of
migration and to the special frame of mind with which the
newcomers began their California stay. The automobile gave these
and other twentieth-century migrants a flexibility that
cross-country or trans-Atlantic migrants of earlier eras did not
share. By reducing the costs and inconveniences of long distance
travel, it made it easy for those who were tentative or doubtful,
who under other circumstances would have stayed behind, to go
anyway. They went knowing that for the price of a few tanks of
gasoline they could always return.
Even if all they had was an old jalopy of the kind that broke
down, this by no means necessitated the tragedy implied by
Dorothea Langes photographs. Gregory points out that farming
families had a number of options to make money en route. Some of
them planned their journey to coincide with the Arizona
cotton-picking season. Others who were less well organized
nonetheless found plenty of agricultural employment along the way
in the newly developed irrigation fields of the desert state. In
the 1930s, Arizona acquired thousands of new citizens in this
way.
This version of the story, in which agricultural migrants had
many more active choices than the powerless victims of
Steinbecks novel, was also true of California. Although the
state was hit particularly hard by the Depression, with the
unemployment rate reaching twenty-nine percent in early 1933, its economy
bounced back comparatively quickly between 1934 and 1937. In this
period, Californian agriculture suffered not unemployment but
labor shortages. At the time, Californian growers needed
thousands of harvesters for their crops. In the San Joaquin
Valley, cotton acreages quadrupled between 1932 and 1936. As a
result, demand for cotton pickers soared and wages more than
doubled. From forty-five cents for one hundred pounds in 1932, the rate for
cotton picking rose to ninety cents in 1934 and one dollar in 1936. A
new bout of recession in 193738 reduced wages to seventy-five cents per
one hundred pounds, but this still paid twenty to fifty percent more than the
going rate in the southwest. In almost
every other industry where low-skilled Okie agricultural
laborers sought work, such as meat packing, oil, cement, clay,
machinery, railroad, and ice manufacturing, Californian wages were
twenty to fifty percent higher than back home.
California also had a much more generous unemployment relief
system: $40 a month for a family of four, compared to $10 to $12
a month in the southwest. Although paying relief to migrants
generated resentment among Californian taxpayers, it was an
important consideration for agricultural workers. It obviated the
need to follow the harvests up and down the state all year and
allowed them to drop their nomad status and settle with their
children in one place, working part of the year on the harvests,
part in construction and similar laboring occupations, and part
on relief. The combined income from these varied sources lifted
them out of poverty, giving them a modest but decent standard of
living.
The social policy Steinbeck favored for them was quite
different. He was part of a group of west-coast writers and
intellectuals who urged Washington to expand the Farm Security
Administration Camps funded under the New Deal. The Grapes of
Wrath described a model camp of this kind in the form of
Weedpatch where the Joads stay for a while. The author
dedicated his novel to Tom Collins, a social worker who
administered one of these camps and who was one of his principal
informants about Okie customs and language. The FDA camps
comprised orderly rows of tents with clean water and sanitation.
They encouraged the migrants to form self-management committees
to handle chores like garbage disposal and ablution block
cleaning.
Most Okies who went to the agricultural valleys, however,
preferred other options. Little Oklahoma or Okieville
settlements sprung up on subdivisions on the outskirts of larger
inland cities like Bakersfield. For as little as $5 to $10 down
and the same each month, migrant families could own land on which
to build their own houses. They constructed them of cheap
building materials and they initially had poor water supply and
sewage disposal and no electricity. However downmarket they might
have seemed to other neighborhoods, who often resented their
presence, these typical Okie settlements were still a long way
from either the canvas lean-tos and abandoned railway carriages
Steinbeck made his characters inhabit in the novel, or the prim
government camps he urged the New Deal to provide for them. The
great majority of real Okies voted with their feet and went to the
private market to buy their own land and build their own houses.
Rather than a tragedy, the Okie migration was a success story by
almost any measure. By 1940, well before the World War II
manufacturing boom transformed the Californian economy, a
substantial majority of Okies had attained the goals that had
brought them west. Eighty-three percent of adult males were
fully employed, a quarter in white-collar jobs and the rest
evenly divided between skilled, semi-skilled, and unskilled
occupations. About twenty percent earned $2,000 or more a year, a sum
that elevated them to middle-class status after less than five
years in their new state. While their average incomes were
beneath those of longer established Californian families, their
earnings were significantly higher and their unemployment rate
significantly lower than that of their compatriots who remained
in the southwest. In short, despite the Depression, California
delivered on its promise.
It should be emphasized, however, that the received story of the
great Okie Exodus was not entirely an invention. Instead of
Steinbecks 300,000, there were actually about 90,000
agricultural workers fitting the Okie category who migrated to
and settled in Californian farming valleys in the 1930s. While
the great majority of them prospered, a small minority did not.
In 1937, when the problem of migrant homelessness was at its
worst, a Californian government health survey estimated there
were 3,800 of these families living in squatter villages of the
kind portrayed in The Grapes of Wrath. This would appear to be
the most accurate estimate of the number of people who
experienced what the Joads went through. This is not an
insignificant number, but neither is it a quantity that warrants
being the received image of the Great Depression. This number
amounted to about five percent of the dimension claimed by
Steinbeck and gives a fair idea of the scale of exaggeration his
book has perpetrated. If this is so, it raises the question: how
did such a grossly false picture become so entrenched in the
popular imagination?
The Okie myth owes its existence not only to the Old Testament
but also to Das Kapital. Today, Steinbeck is known as an
admirer of Franklin Roosevelt, a friend of Lyndon Johnson, and a
patriotic supporter of the Vietnam War of the 1960s. In the
1930s, however, he inhabited a west coast literary milieu that
was much more Marxist than New Deal. One of his friends in the
early 1930s was Francis Whitaker, then a leading figure in the
Communist Partys John Reed Club for writers. Through Whitaker he
met the organizers of the wave of strikes conducted by the
Communist-controlled Cannery and Agricultural Workers Industrial
Union from 1933 to 1936. In these years, several young members of
the John Reed Club and the Young Communist League were regular
visitors to the author at his cottage in Pacific Grove.
At the time, his west coast mentors also included the aging
radical author Lincoln Steffens and his wife Ella Winter. At
the height of the Depression, Steffens was one of a group of
celebrated writers who produced the manifesto Culture and the
Crisis in which they announced their support for Communist Party
political candidates. Steinbeck had begun visiting the Steffens
household at Carmel in 1933 where he was introduced to George
West, an editor at the San Francisco News, who later
commissioned him to write the series of newspaper articles that
became the genesis of The Grapes of Wrath. After the Communist
Party proclaimed the Popular Front in 1935 to forge alliances
with non-party identities and movements, Steinbeck joined the
League of American Writers, the organization formed by the
Communists to succeed its more militant John Reed Club.
Steinbecks first wife, Carol Henning, was a Marxist who took him
to radical political meetings in San Francisco throughout the
time he wrote the novel. In 1937, the pair made what at the time
was, for those intellectuals who could afford it, an almost
obligatory pilgrimage to the Soviet Union to inspect the new
civilization created by the Bolshevik regime.
These kind of political connections were not especially unusual
for a hopeful young novelist in the 1930s. This was the Red
Decade in artistic and intellectual circles when many took
Marxism and Communism seriously. The Great Depression had, for
some, shaken their faith in the market-based economic system; for
others, it had confirmed their belief in Marxist theory, which
they equated with modernism. Among aspirant writers, Marxism
inspired a great deal of experimentation in literary forms,
including realist prose, newsreel formats, proletarian novels, and
books combining history, fiction, and documentary. Many writers on
the left regarded themselves as a proletarian avant-garde,
waging a literary class war against the establishment. They
wrote novels, plays, poems, and songs about the strikes and the
political conflicts of coal miners, steel workers, laundry hands,
textile workers, and sharecroppers. One 1929 textile strike in
North Carolina alone produced four novels in the
subsequent decade. While much of this material was crude
ideological cheerleading, some of the better proletarian novels
included Upton Sinclairs Little Steel and Harriette Arnows
Dollmaker. The movement especially affected the publishing
industry in New York. Many publishers, editors, agents,
reviewers, and book sellers sought to transform what they regarded
as the spirit of the age into a literary form.
Steinbecks first commercially successful novel, In Dubious Battle,
was conceived and written within this atmosphere. This book tells
how a group of Communist union leaders organize a protracted
strike among agricultural workers in the Californian apple
industry. The experience of getting it
published, however, soured
the authors attitude towards party members. The manuscript was
assessed and rejected by Harry Black, a Marxist editor at
Steinbecks publisher, Covici-Friede, on the grounds that it was
inaccurate and that its less than heroic portrayal of the strike
leaders would offend readers on the left. Steinbeck was
reportedly furious because some cocktail circuit communist back
in New York had accused him of being inaccurate. Later, the
critic Mary McCarthy repeated Blacks sentiments that the text
was not sufficiently orthodox for a proletarian novel, a response
that generated a life-long enmity between her and Steinbeck.
Today, these quibbles over Marxist orthodoxy might seem like
splitting hairs. In Dubious Battle is a grim and inelegant
work, but it does toe the Marxist ideological line fairly well,
especially by preserving that
theorys central inconsistency: a
workers revolution is inevitable but needs a vanguard of
activists to bring it off. There
was, however, a real
disagreement between Steinbecks temperament and the demands of
the party. He had more faith in the ability of the workers,
rather than the party leadership, to manage their affairs. That
is why, in The Grapes of Wrath, he endorsed the idea of the
migrant workers running self-management committees at the
Weedpatch FDA camp. To apply a label that the author himself
would not have appreciated, in the great debate over Marxism
within the American left during the period of the Popular Front,
Steinbeck was more Trotskyite than Stalinist. He was a
non-conformist Marxist who eventually became an anti-Communist in
the Cold War of the 1950s, a not unfamiliar American intellectual
trajectory of the era.
Even though the authors more enthusiastic biographers would
dispute calling him a Marxist, the text of The Grapes of Wrath
makes it plain that he was both predicting and justifying nothing
less than a proletarian revolution in America. In one of his
nonfiction interludes he provides the rationale for the coming
conflagration:
And the great owners, who must lose their land in an upheaval,
the great owners with access to history, with eyes to read
history and to know the great fact: when property accumulates in
too few hands it is taken away. And that companion fact: when a
majority of the people are hungry and cold they will take by
force what they need. And the little screaming fact that sounds
throughout all history: repression works only to strengthen and
knit the repressed. The great owners ignored the three cries of
history. The land fell into fewer hands, the number of the
dispossessed increased, and every effort of the great owners was
directed at repression.
The development of the capitalist system, he tells the reader,
makes revolution almost inevitable:
The tractors which throw men out of work, the belt lines which
carry loads, the machines which produce, all were increased; and
more and more families scampered on the highways, looking for
crumbs from the great holdings, lusting after the land beside the
roads. The great owners formed associations for protection, and
they met to discuss ways to intimidate, to kill, to gas. And
always they were in fear of a principalthree hundred
thousandif they ever move under a leaderthe end. Three
hundred thousand, hungry and miserable; if they ever know
themselves, the land will be theirs, and all the gas, all the
rifles in the world wont stop them.
On their great trek, this is a lesson that Steinbecks fictional
characters learn as well. The preacher Casy, who plays the
novels prophet, muses over the meaning of the exodus:
Theys stuff goin on that the folks doin it dont know nothing
aboutyet. Theys gonna come somepin outa all these folks goin
wesouta all their farms lef lonely. Theys gonna come a
thing thats gonna change the whole country.
By the end of the book, Ma Joad, who was initially concerned to
keep the family together and to preserve their food and supplies
for their own use, now identifies herself as one with all the
other poor and oppressed.
The stout woman smiled. No need to thank. Everybodys in the same
wagon. Spose we was down. Youd a give us a han.
Yes, Ma said, we would.
Or anybody.
Or anybody. Use ta be the fambly was fust. It aint so now.
Its anybody. Worse off we get, the more we got to do.
In other words, the Depression had taken the individualistic
American farming family and turned it into a proletariat with a
new set of collectivist values. Many of Steinbecks admirers
claim that he is an observer of the human condition rather than
the proselytizer of a political position, but passages like the
above are little more than Marxist wishful thinking.
This was, in fact, widely recognized when the book was published.
Many Californians were outraged at a story they believed was a
grotesque misrepresentation that defamed their state. There were
a number of anti-Steinbeck public meetings organized and several
angry pamphlets produced. Steinbecks neighbor and fellow
author Ruth Comfort Mitchell, wife of the Republican State
Senator, called one of these meetings in San Francisco where she
promised to write a reply to the libel and set the record
straight. The sentimental novel she eventually produced,
Of Human Kindness,
however, was hardly a match for her rivals
ability
to generate powerful literary mythology.
At the time, Whittaker Chambers showed the most insight into why
such a piece of propaganda had become so popular. He contrasted
the book with the film, arguing that the latter brought out the
essence of what was actually a great story. Reviewing the film in
Time in February 1940, Chambers wrote:
It will be a red rag to bull-mad Californians who may or may not
boycott it. Others, who were merely annoyed at the exaggerations,
propaganda and phony pathos of John Steinbecks best selling
novel, may just stay away. Pinkos who did not bat an eye when the
Soviet Government exterminated 3,000,000 peasants by famine, will
go for a good cry over the hardship of the Okies. But people who
go to pictures for the sake of seeing pictures will see a great
one. For The Grapes of Wrath is possibly the best picture ever
made from a so-so book
Camera craft purged the picture of the
editorial rash that blotched the Steinbeck book. Cleared of
excrescences, the residue is a great human story which made
thousands of people, who damned the novels phony conclusions,
read it. It is the saga of an authentic U.S. farming family who
lose their land. They wander, they suffer, but they endure. They
are never quite defeated, and their survival is itself a triumph.
I think Chambers is right. The Grapes of Wrath is the only
example of the proletarian
novel to survive. Why it became the
story that defined the Great Depression for America is a question
that still calls for an answer. Why werent other novels from
this genre and this periodstories of battles at Carolina
textile mills, Pennsylvania steel towns, or Appalachian coal
minesthe ones that did the job? The ultimate answer does not
lie in
the proletarian
novel or any other version of Marxist literary endeavor. The
enduring appeal of Steinbecks storythough not his bookis its
application of a great Biblical theme to the experience of an
ordinary American farming family.
None of this, however, has much connection to the history of the
Great Depression or the experience of the great majority of the Okies. Rather than
a proletariat
who learned collectivist values during a downward
spiral towards immiseration, all the historical evidence
points the other way. The many sociological studies
made over the last forty years confirm the same picture. In the
1940s and beyond, the migrants retained their essentially
individualist cultural ethos, preserved their evangelical
religion, and prospered in their new environment. In popular
music, Woody Guthries Dust Bowl Ballads proved a bigger hit with
New York bohemians than with California Okies, who much preferred
Gene Autry and Merle Haggard. By the 1960s, the Okies and their
offspring constituted an important part of the conservative
coalition that twice elected Ronald Reagan governor of
California.
From The New Criterion Vol. 20, No. 10, June 2002
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