Chapter 30

In the spring of 1930 Sammy hired a carpenter, made Robert his unwilling assistant and had two eight by twelve-foot rooms with a shed roof built on the back of his small bungalow. He had a bottled-gas furnace installed in his basement and ductwork run to every room so they could dispense with the expensive electric heaters and old-fashioned Franklin stoves. The job cost nearly $2,000 by the time they bought some furniture and mattresses, but Polly and Sammy saw it as an investment, and Jenny's boys now had their own room. When the job was done, Polly said she regretted they had not decided to add a second bathroom.

Sammy had regretfully let go the silent man who pumped gas for him and taught Robert how to do that job which he did in a generally lackadaisical manner after finding a wicker rocking chair he could use and installing it on the store's front porch. His brother had sought employment in the city off and on for nearly six months, taking three part-time jobs that only lasted a week or so, before giving up as the Depression deepened and many well-dressed men were out selling pencils, postcards and apples at the streetcar stops. He ate at Sammy's table silently, and the boys quickly learned not to ask him questions.

Now two of their tenant farms had been abandoned and their share from the third had been reduced nearly 50% as the creamery price for milk continued to fall. Sammy had to write off as uncollectible the debts of several credit customers who seemed to have disappeared. Talk of getting a new radio stopped as did plans for a newer car.

A telegram followed by a letter brought the news that the buyers of the store in Wisconsin had defaulted on their mortgage and gone broke owing many of their suppliers. After discussing the situation with Sammy, Polly decided to sell the store at auction. When there were no bidders, she paid the taxes and had the place boarded up.

Business, both gasoline and grocery, fell off steadily, and Polly worried over the monthly books as Sammy mailed out the bills, still hopeful. He had nearly stopped extending credit to new customers, and when an old customer with a large debt came in, he almost always reminded him or her of how big the bill was getting and asked for something "on account." People made excuses, and all Sammy could do was nod and chew on his pencil.

Five-year-old Phil who spent many hours in the store and was a customer favorite as he ran on his chubby legs to fill their orders, looked up at his father's worried face and wondered what was wrong. The sliding door on penny candy had been closed tightly to keep out the flies so everything looked fine to him.

Robert, who was still living in the back of the store, became, by turns, morose or obstreperous depending on whether or not he was sober. He had found a still operator back in the deep woods near the carline's transformer and shortly after that Sammy discovered that his brother was bringing back Mason jars filled with white lightening to sell under the counter. Their argument about that became very heated and, for a while, Robert went off to live with one of his half-brothers in Virginia. About six weeks later he returned unshaven, his shirt collar torn, burrs on his trousers and eyes bleary. He slept for a day and a half.

By the time the school year ended and the acting company returned for its third season at the red barn, Robert was looking clean and neat, his shoes shined and hair trimmed by Polly, and off he went on the streetcar for five mornings in a row to seek employment, visiting several of his old friends and surviving on fifty cents a day. Every time Sammy gave his older brother a half dollar he recalled the one he had been given in Cleveland and hoped for the best. Almost no one, Robert found, was hiring and more men were out of work, including several of his old buddies. For many people, work weeks were being shortened and pay was being cut.

The lady who ran the refreshment stand in the corn crib beside the Red Barn Theater asked permission to stable some horses on the property for a friend of hers, and Sammy could not see any reason to say no so soon afterward a big horse van showed up along with a lean man who looked, dressed and sounded like a cowboy. In fact he admitted that had ridden on the Eastern rodeo circuit and had even appeared in Madison Square Garden a time or two. His quarter horses were well trained and in good condition, and they quickly adapted to the grassy field which was a bit hard on some of the quail families with homes in the taller weeds left in the corners of the pasture.

With the cowboy's smiling help all four of the older children rode the big ponies from time to time while Polly and Bud watched and applauded. Then the cowboy convinced Polly she ought to try a horse, and he adjusted the stirrups and helped her mount up while trying to hold her baby in one bent arm. Polly handed over Bud to the cowboy, pulled her cotton skirt up between her legs, settled herself in the western saddle, grinned at the gawking children, flipped the reins and dug in her heels. After cantering around the field, she let the horse walk and came back at a fast trot, posting.

"You looked surprised," she said, smiling down at her babbling baby in the big wrangler's arms. Neither Paul nor his brother seemed able to close their mouths, and Janie and Phil were also speechless. "I could ride a horse when I was five." She patted her mount's neck. "But this is as good a critter as I've ever sat on."

"Yep," the cowboy said as she dismounted with a wide swing of her leg, and he handed her back her child, "that there filly's made me a lot a'money. I do my roping and tying off'n her, bulldoggin' some's callin' it nowadays."

After that Polly rode almost every nice day and when the summer was done and the horses clattered up into their van, she started pestering her husband to buy them a horse, "for the children" she insisted. Sammy got one at a nearby sheriff's sale on Edson's lane, a big-footed animal that was some sort of cross between a Shetland and an American Belgian. Sidney, as he was called although Janie had a hard time saying his name, turned out to be a calm and patient animal with big feet, a flowing mane and long tail that made him look like a short-legged Palomino. He bobbed his head happily when he was ridden and obviously doted on the children, who often mounted him three at a time, and he seemed to enjoy seeing Polly walking toward him with a carrot in her hand, swishing his tail madly. Sammy bought him and his tack for $20 and a promise that the farmer who had owned him could bring his own children over now and then for a ride. He was not the horse Polly dreamed of, but she was happy with him anyhow.