The great depression devastated America and it all began in the cities. The previously credible cities crumbled under the new untamed order. And within the soon to be decrepit cities lived businessmen. And within each businessman was a family. Families that were previously immovable along the social ladder. Behind each local business was the family. The family wasn't just a headless entity, they were people, living, breathing people. And the family were some of the earliest to experience the cold shoulder of the depression. Bankruptcy spread like a plague due to overproduction and under consumption. Within the family, the husband, though strong willed, started to get nervous, thus the wife got nervous. Then the children got nervous. The family reached out for the bank's help but the banks were panicking too. Soon the family had to fire the employees because they could hardly keep the business afloat, leaving the freshly unemployed nervous, arguably more than just nervous. The trickle down system ravaged the city people. With so many unemployed, demands for goods were reduced thus creating even more unemployment. And soon the family lost too much money and had no other choice but to abandon the business. The family saw the business as being a part of the family, but held no funeral, for they couldn't afford it. Soon the family was forced to vacate their home, the husband being more angry at himself than his situation. And soon the wife got angry, but not at her husband. And the children got angry because they had lost all they had ever known. The family moved on the street, not having anywhere else to go. Building makeshift shacks alongside another family and that family alongside another family. They got used to a previously unknown frugal life, for every meal became a blessing and every blessing wished upon a meal. The children soon learned to be children again. And the husband searched for work. The family stayed together, but in a way lost its most crucial member.

The cities of the depression became dull and grim, but they also became alive. The cities breathed with every citizen within them, building a relationship with their new tenants. The people lived with the city, not just inside it. And the streets became living rooms. And the neighbors became family. They called their cities Hoovervilles, appropriately named after the president they blamed for their misfortune. They lived in huts made of whatever they could find and whatever they could find, they used. 

We don't have enough food for supper. 

Di'ja you find any work in the city? 

Maybe we should leave for somewhere new, anywhere but this place. 

Families learned to make money at any means. The hungry, homeless man searched for any part time job he could find. Excuse me, are you hiring? Get in line. The line was almost infinite, not physically, but due to the lack of jobs, it may as well have been never ending.  The Mother sold clothes, cleaned houses, and sold baskets. Even the children would try to pitch in by shining shoes and delivering newspapers. And everyday the hungry, homeless family would come home to their shack. 

Couldn't find any work today, jobs are getting worse and worse. 

I sold a few blouses down at the market. 

We oughta find a better way to make money. 

I'm afraid we've tried everything. 

What are we gonna do? 

But it wasn't a real question. The hungry, homeless man knew his poor wife didn't know what they were going to do either. But just saying it out loud gave his dwindling flame a glimpse of hope. Even the veterans lived in Hoovervilles. The veterans that never got paid the extra money the government promised them.

Di'ja ever get your bonus from the war? 

O’course not, not with this goon leading the country. 

The veterans who fought thousands of miles away from their home, were welcomed back by the swift unforgiveness of the depression. The veterans sometimes organized to fight for their bonus money they were promised. A bill was even passed by the House of Representatives, only to be rejected by the Senate. The veterans of the depression lived in shacks, covered in filth, barely had food, and were given the cold shoulder by the same government they risked their lives for. And the veterans resented them for it, but they were the ones returning to the hoovervilles, not the government. The only gift they were ever given was the struggle to survive, but they managed. Life during the depression was anything but easy for the people of the city. People from all walks of life fell to the bottom of the barrel. And though terribly disgusting and cruel, there was a sense of comradery between the people of hoovervilles. Not knowing what or how you and your family were going to eat the next day broke down the cold shells of many, forming a community.  Every story of  the depression relates to another. Within every hut was a story, simplified easily, but truly complex.