The Dust Bowl (get 7C back out look at the bottom)

The Dust Bowl (get 7C back out look at the bottom)

The Dust Bowl: Severe dust storms during the 1930 s. Manmade Causes Environmental Causes

Dust Bowl Migration Okies fled from the Dust Bowl many moved to California, but weren t well received.

Dust Bowl Stations You will work through 4 stations on the Dust Bowl.

Name US History Dust Bowl 7.2 (turn in) Station # 1: Woodie Guthrie Song 1. What sort of troubles did people in the Dust Bowl face? 2. What did people do to get away from the troubles caused by the dust storms? 3. In I ain t got no home in this world anymore what did he mean he said Was a farmin' on the shares, and always I was poor; My crops I lay into the banker's store. Station # 2: Jim Holbert Song 1. What are some of the hardships the boy suffered? 2. Why would the people on the train be happy and gay to be on it? Where are they likely headed? 3. Why did the boy leave home in the first place? Why would he need to? Station # 3: John Steinbeck Excerpt 1. What was Steinbeck s purpose in likening the cars of Migrant workers to bugs? 2. How did these people deal with being forced to leave their homes due to the Dust Bowl? 3. What did Steinbeck mean by the following statement? A man with food fed a hungry man, and thus insured himself against hunger Station # 4: Dorothea Lange Photos 1. What sort of conditions did the people in the photos live in? 2. What sort of emotion do these photos intend to invoke? 3. What sort of emotions do the people in these photos convey?

Station # 1 Woody Guthrie I Ain t Got No Home In This World Anymore Lyrics: I Ain't Got No Home Words and Music by Woody Guthrie I ain't got no home, I'm just a roamin' 'round, Just a wandrin' worker, I go from town to town. And the police make it hard wherever I may go My brothers and my sisters are stranded on this road, A hot and dusty road that a million feet have trod; Rich man took my home and drove me from my door Was a farmin' on the shares, and always I was poor; My crops I lay into the banker's store. My wife took down and died upon the cabin floor, I mined in your mines and I gathered in your corn I been working, mister, since the day I was born Now I worry all the time like I never did before 'Cause I ain't got no home in this world anymore Now as I look around, it's mighty plain to see This world is such a great and a funny place to be; Oh, the gamblin' man is rich an' the workin' man is poor, Station # 2 Jim Holbert The Lightning Express Oh, the Lightning Express from the depot one night I started out on its way And all the people that boarded the train They seemed to be happy and gay. Except a little boy sat on a seat by himself A readin' a letter he had It's plain to be seen from the tears in his eyes Its contents is (pron. condenses) what made him sad. The strange conductor he started his train And taken the tickets of everyone there And when he reached the side of the boy He briefly commanded his fare. I've got no money to pay my way But I'll pay you back some day. I'll put you off at the next station, says he, These words the boy did say. Oh, please, Mr. Conductor Don't put me off of this train For the only friend that I ever had Is waiting for me in vain. Expectin' her to die ever' moment And may not live to the day I want to kiss mother good bye, sir, Before God takes her away. Mother was sick when I left home And needed a doctor's care (keer) I come to your city employment for work (imploring for?) But couldn't find none anywhere. And a little girl setting on a seat close by Said to put this boy off it's a shame. And taken a hat and a collection she made And paid this boy's fare on the train. Much obliged to you, miss, for your kindness to me. You're welcome, you need never fear. And every time the conductor passed through These words would ring in his ear. Oh, please, Mr. Conductor Don't put me off of this train For the only friend that I ever had Is waiting for me in vain. Expectin' her to die ever' moment And may not live to the day I want to kiss mother good bye, sir, Before God takes her away.

Station # 3 John Steinbeck The Grapes of Wrath Station #4 Photos by Dorothea Lange THE CARS OF THE MIGRANT PEOPLE crawled out of the side roads onto the great cross country highway, and they took the migrant way to the West. In the daylight they scuttled like bugs to the westward; and as the dark caught them, they clustered like bugs near to shelter and to water. And because they were lonely and perplexed, because they had all come from a place of sadness and worry and defeat, and because they were all going to a new mysterious place, they huddled together; they talked together; they shared their lives, their food, and the things they hoped for in the new country. Thus it might be that one family camped near a spring, and another camped for the spring and for company, and a third because two families had pioneered the place and found it good. And when the sun went down, perhaps twenty families and twenty cars were there. In the evening a strange thing happened: the twenty families became one family, the children were the children of all. The loss of home became one loss, and the golden time in the West was one dream. And it might be that a sick child threw despair into the hearts of twenty families, of a hundred people; that a birth there in a tent kept a hundred people quiet and awestruck through the night and filled a hundred people with the birth joy in the morning. A family which the night before had been lost and fearful might search its goods to find a present for a new baby. In the evening, sitting about the fires, the twenty were one. They grew to be units of the camps, units of the evenings and the nights. There grew up government in the worlds, with leaders, with elders. A man who was wise found that his wisdom was needed in every camp; a man who was a fool could not change his folly with his world. And a kind of insurance developed in these nights. A man with food fed a hungry man, and thus insured himself against hunger. And when a baby died a pile of silver coins grew at the door flap, for a baby must be well buried, since it has had nothing else of life. An old man may be left in a potter's field, but not a baby