Monday's Poetry: "Tom Joad"

 

by Pa Rock

Poetry Appreciator

Yesterday afternoon I finished researching and typing the last installment (#15) of "One SMITH Family," a project that I have been working on and releasing through this blog over the past several months.  It is a collection of genealogical and historical profiles of seven SMITH siblings who came out of north central Tennessee in the 1850's and migrated to southwestern Missouri - as well as profiles of fifty-three of their descendants who all became heirs to the estate of the last surviving member of the original sibling group.

Many of those SMITH descendants had moved on to Arkansas and Oklahoma by the time they became inheritors to the 1920 estate of William C. SMITH of Newton County, Missouri, and as I collected biographical information on them, I was not surprised to find that quite a few migrated on to California during the Great Depression and "dustbowl" years of the 1930's.  

Earlier this week Alexa and I were listening to songs by Woody Guthrie, the man who wrote much of the American soundtrack for the Great Depression.    Woody's music was just drifting on by as I read and typed, but when I heard him speak the name "Tom Joad," I set the SMITH family research aside and stopped to listen.

Tom Joad is a staple of American literature.  He was the central character in John Steinbeck's classic novel of the Depression years, "The Grapes of Wrath," a book that has been banned for decades in many quarters because of its relentless attacks on the cruelties of capitalism.  It is one of the most powerful and provocative books that I have ever encountered, and I fully intend to read it again in the not-too-distant future.

Steinbeck's novel, "The Grapes of Wrath," focuses on Ton Joad, a young man from Oklahoma who has spent several years in the McAlester State Penitentiary for killing a man in self-defense.  As the story opens, Tom has been released from prison and is slowly making his way back home.  He meets a friend along the way, and when they finally make it to Tom's parents' home, they discover that the bank has foreclosed on the farm and the family has gone to an uncle's farm where they are preparing to join the mass exodus to California in search of work and a better life.

Tom catches up with his folks and siblings at the uncle's farm, and he joins them as they head down Route 66 toward the promised land of California.  The Joads endure much trouble along the way, but eventually wind up in a farming area controlled by large corporate farms near Bakersfield, California.

As I have worked my way through the profiles of the many SMITH descendants, I encountered more than a few who moved off of rented or mortgaged farms in Arkansas and Oklahoma in the 1930's and headed to California, and I always imagined that most of these "Arkies" and "Okies," as they were unaffectionately known, endured many of the same kind of troubles that beset the Joad family.  

Yesterday, while organizing the very last profile of the many SMITH descendants, I suddenly realized that the story of the final individual whom I was profiling, William Bruce HANKINS, could have almost been the model for the story of the Joad family.  Not only did he uproot his family from a rented - and almost certainly impoverished - rural Oklahoma farm at the height of the Great Depression and at a time when dust storms were ravaging the state, he managed to get them to the area around Bakersfield where the Joads settled, and to find employment as a farm laborer, no doubt in one of the corporate farms whose unfair employment practices Steinbeck bitterly exposed.

(The stories of William Bruce HANKINS and four of his siblings will run in this space tomorrow.)

For those who have not read "The Grapes of Wrath," please do.  You will learn more about American history and economics than you probably have the stomach to handle.  And for those who would prefer a better sampler of the novel before committing to reading it, here is songwriter Woody Guthrie's take on  Tom Joad, the protagonist of the tale:

Tom Joad

by Woody Guthrie

Tom Joad got out of the old McAlester Pen
There he got his parole
After four long years on a man killing charge
Tom Joad come a walking down the road, poor boy
Tom Joad come a walking down the road

Tom Joad he met a truck driving man
There he caught him a ride He said: "I just got loose from
McAlester's Pen On a charge called Homicide, A charge called
Homicide."

That truck rolled away in a cloud of dust,
Tommy turned his face toward home,
He met Preacher Casey and they had a little drink,
But they found that his family they was gone,
He found that his family they was gone.
He found his mother's old fashion shoe
Found his daddy's hat.
And he found little Muley and Muley said:
"They've been tractored out by the cats,
They've been tractored out by the cats."

Tom Joad walked down to the neighbors farm
Found his family.
They took Preacher Casey and loaded in a car
And his mother said "We got to git away."
His mother said 'We got to get away."

Now the twelve of the Joads made a mighty heavy load
But Grandpa Joad did cry.
He picked up a handful of land in his hand
Said: "I'm stayin' with the farm till I die.
Yes, I'm stayin' with my farm till I die."

They fed him short ribs and coffee and soothing syrup
And Grandpa Joad did die.
They buried Grandpa Joad by the side of the road,
Buried Grandma on the California side,
They buried Grandma on the California side.

They stood on a Mountain and they looked to the West And it
Looked like the promised land. That bright green valley with a
River running through, There was work for every single hand, they
Thought, There was work for every single hand.
The Joads rolled away to Jungle Camp, There they cooked a stew.
And the hungry little kids of the Jungle Camp Said: "We'd like to
Have some too." Said: "We'd like to have some too."

Now a Deputy Sheriff fired loose at a man
Shot a woman in the back.
Before he could take his aim again
Preacher Casey dropped him in his track.
Preacher Casey dropped him in his track.

They handcuffed Casey and they took him to Jail
And then he got away.
And he met Tom Joad on the old river bridge,
And these few words he did say, poor boy,
These few words he did say.

"I preached for the Lord a mighty long time
Preached about the rich and the poor.
Us workin' folks got to all get together,
Cause we ain't got a chance anymore.
We ain't got a chance anymore."

The Deputies come and Tom and Casey run
To the bridge where the water run down.
But the vigilante they hit Casey with a club,
They laid Preacher Casey on the ground.
They laid Preacher Casey on the ground.

Tom Joad he grabbed that Deputy's club
Hit him over the head.
Tom Joad took flight in the dark rainy night
A Deputy and a Preacher lying dead, two men,
A Deputy and a Preacher lying dead.

Tom run back where his mother was asleep
He woke her up out of bed.
Then he kissed goodbye to the mother that he loved
Said what Preacher Casey said, Tom Joad,
He said what Preacher Casey said.

"Ever'body might be just one big soul
Well it looks that a way to me.
Everywhere that you look in the day or night
That's where I'm gonna be, Ma,
That's where I'm gonna be.

Wherever little children are hungry and cry
Wherever people ain't free.
Wherever men are fightin' for their rights
That's where I'm gonna be, Ma.
That's where I'm a gonna be.