Dear family and friends, (Feb 18, 2005)
The Program Chairman of our local Sr. Citizens Club asked me to tell how the Depression affected me and my family. I thought you might be interested to know what I talked about. (I was limited to 5 minutes.)
My name is Angagh Kalpakian MacKellar Elwood, an Armenian born at the end of 1918 in Adana, Turkey. Adana is a port on the southern shore of Turkey, not far from the Syrian border. Things were not good for Armenians in 1921. So my mother wrote to her sister and brother-in-law in California to see if they would sponsor us so that we could come to the U.S. They did; but when the papers arrived in 1922 my mother was nine months pregnant! So we took a ship to Istambul, a large metropolitan city, where things would be better. We arrived on Thursday and my sister was born on Sunday! My father had relatives there who were in the oriental rug business; so my father learned to buy and sell oriental rugs.
We came to Venice, California, moved into a tiny house at the back of our relatives' house, and my father ran a small tobacco and candy stand on the strand of Venice Beach. Not much income. Three years later we moved to Los Angeles where my father bought a small grocery store on the corner of South San Pedro and 19th Streets. Living quarters were behind and attached to the store. We were there only about 9 months when a man came along, wanting to buy the business! My father quoted a price he was sure the man would not accept--but he did! So with that money my father bought a larger market on South Figueroa and 108th Street, with 3 separate parts: grocery, fruits and vegetables and meat. (He ran the first 2 parts.) This was early in 1928. My father ran the business alone in the mornings; Mother came and helped every afternoon; and sometimes on Saturdays I came to help. Business was good!
Also in 1928 my first husband's father had a very good job as general manager of a refrigerated warehouse. They were so well off that when his wife expressed the desire to go back to Michigan to visit relatives, they bought a brand new Willys Knight Touring Car and she drove the three children to Michigan to spend the summer! Some time later, the owner of the business died, leaving my future father-in-law without a job! From then on, both parents worked whenever they could, moving from one rented house to another where the rent was less.
Although the market crashed in 1929, the full effect did not hit southwestern Los Angeles until 1932 or 1933. When my future husband graduated from junior high school in 1933, the family could not afford to buy him white corduroy pants for the ceremoney, as required. The PTA bought them.
During the three years that Father had that grocery store, he earned good money! Many years later, Mother told me that it was in that market that Dad made the most money ever! In all other stores, he earned a living; but in that store he earned the money which bought in 1941 a large two-family home on Olympic Blvd, educated four daughters, and provided a comfortable retirement for my parents.
Now, whenever I think about the Depression, I remember that the daughter of William Gibbs McAdoo (former U.S. senator) was down to her last $20,000, she was so depressed that she committed suicide!!
The following information was taken for the Los Angeles Times on Monday, November 11, 2002. The story starts on the front page about "Strains of Taps, over and Over" concerning the Riverside National Cemetery. The information is copies directly from the paper:
By 10 am the day is moving with military precision. Seven funerals are scheduled in the next 61 minutes. Sssix are for World War II vets: Roy Sandau, Navy; Carlos Torres, Navy; Angel Ramirez, Navy; Rose Sabo, Army; Leonard Thompson, Army; Frederick Romero, Army.
As they head back to their cars, a bagpipe squeals over at Shelter F. Leonard Thompson of Santa Ana died at age 78, half a century after combat in the Philipines as an Army private. "He really didn't talk about it," Kathleen Thompson said of her husband. "I don't know why. it was part of his life, but it was in his past. He put it aside so he could go forward." After the war, Thompson went to junior college and worked 35 years for Pacific Telephone & Telegraph Co. He started as a cable splicer, moved up to home installations and was promoted to installling telephone systems in businesses.
"He unjoyed his life," his widow said. "He loved fishing. When he retired, we'd go down to Balboa and sit down with a cup of coffee and fish. Didn't matter if he caught anything."
In April, Thompson had a stsroke. Suddenly, inexplicably, he began talking abou the war. "All he would talk about was his brother," Kathleen Thompson said. "He had been a pilot and was killed over France. I never heard him talk about his brother before. It bothered me....... You hear about people talking to loved ones on the other side. I don't know how else to explaint it."
Less than an hour later, Thompson is lowered into Section 57A, No. 218. Angel Ramirez is a quarter-inch away, in No. 217. The numbers are spray-painted in red inside each crypt, and when a casket arrives its work order is checked and double-checked to make sure the numbers match.