Route 66: Leave the past, drive into the future
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When we last left off, the Joads were on their last most treacherous segment of their Route 66 journey to the promised land. Staring into the abyss of the Mojave Desert waiting for the sun to set.
The Joads left fallow Oklahoma in the family 1926 Hudson Super 6, which looked more like an overloaded circus buggy with a giggle of clowns about to jump out than life’s last hope on four-wheels. The rusted hulk -- packed with the family’s worldly belongings -- was rickety and top heavy but their only ticket out.
John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath clan would take all night to cross the 100-plus miles of barren, lifeless desert.
As stated, I crossed the Mojave on Amtrak during the night in what turned out to be a surprising experience. Visualizing images and gazing at landscapes I'd never seen before or since. The emptiness and allure of the desert was, believe it or not, spiritual.
As darkness set in, Tom Joad took the metal wheel. Leaving the fertile Colorado River valley, they set out in what all knew was a pivotal night. If something went wrong it was 40 miles between gas stations, someone would have to walk for help to get water or a part needed to press on.
Driving the Route through the desert was like being on the moon. Stark terrain, you felt like you were the only one on earth alive. All Tom could muster was 30 mph, headlights were dim, pot holes deep, road beds rutted and the family clunker temperamental to say the least. All ears were honed in on the usual sputter and cough of the engine, any unusual noise spelled trouble.
The day before, the Joads had replaced a fan belt with a strand of rope. The radiator leaked, causing periodic spewing of steam, demanding precious water every 20 minutes, but the crate kept on moving. Should a tire blow again they’d have to unload.
Stars were out, if it wasn’t a fateful escape the beauty of the desert would be captivating, but all on board felt the cold night air, huddled together in the back for warmth.
That’s the thing about a true desert, blistering heat during the day and frigid at night, relief only comes when it's conquered.
Ma Joad knew what happened but she kept it from the others, not risking a stop for any reason. Gran’ma Joad had died early in the crossing. Ma Joad laid with the corpse for hours through the long sorrowful darkness.
Once Route 66 reached Barstow, California, it was day break, they had defeated most of the wasteland. Looking for local relief, they were confronted with indifference. There had been so many desert defying Okies before them, the town of 2,200 was overwhelmed.
Sternly directed to a migrant camp outside of town, supplies were sparse. The Joads realized they needed to move on.
They made it to the Tehachpi Mountains and knew on the other side was the Garden of Eden, their new home. Ma Joad came clean about Gran’ma. They stopped on the side of the road and buried her.
It’s estimated 10% who set out for the coast didn't make it.
The jalopy held together for the mountain climb, on the other side there it was. A color they almost forgot what it looked like, green, everywhere. They had made it, their Utopia! Out of the buggy some jumped for joy while others cried, but now what?
California had its hands full.
The dust bowl migration forced thousands of desperate, starving Americans to their overcrowded State. The hand bills lied. Sure there was work in picking fruits and vegetables, but at survival rates. The sheer number of starving people willing to work for next to nothing just to feed their families had brought wages to a slave labor level.
Forced into camp sites full of hopeless people meant crime. Desperate humans will compromise life’s long beliefs in order to feed their crying children.
The men were victimized once more, they had risked it all, driving a thousand-plus miles only to fail in providing for their family again. For some it was more than they could take, death and despair were all around, some even went back.
In the United States, what finally broke the depression cycle? World circumstances, where the Japanese quest for land and a little corporal’s racial thirst for revenge in Europe brought on World War II.
In 1931 the Japanese invaded Manchuria, a long way from the United States but a tell on what was to come. As Hitler gained political power in Germany, our allies were still recovering from the devastation of World War I. Missouri Gen. John J. Pershing was right, an armistice ending the Great War only meant another World War was imminent.
The United States geared up for the inevitable. Entrepreneurs and mainstream companies with government contracts in hand started transitioning into a military industrial juggernaut that would fight the upcoming war through supplying our allies from a distance. Many of the military manufacturing facilities located in Southern California needed workers.
These jobs were good paying sustainable work that turned out to be generational, fueled by eager Oklahomans and other state’s transplants who survived those lean years.
World War II ended the depression, the Highway that John Steinbeck dubbed, the “Mother Road,” put thousands of American men and women in position to help stop global tyranny. Delivering them to the west coast successfully, fulfilling the promise of a better life at the end of Route 66.
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Bob Ford’s History will appear in each edition of the Weekender, Midweek and Corner Post. You can find more of Bob’s work on his website bobfordshistory.com and videos on YouTube, TikTok and Clapper.
