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Program Description
In 1931 the rains stopped and the "black blizzards" began. Powerful dust storms
carrying millions of tons of stinging, blinding black dirt swept across the
Southern Plains--the panhandles of Texas and Oklahoma, western Kansas, and the
eastern portions of Colorado and New Mexico. Topsoil that had taken a thousand
years per inch to build suddenly blew away in only minutes. One journalist
traveling through the devastated region dubbed it the "Dust Bowl."
"Surviving the Dust Bowl" is the remarkable story of the determined people who
clung to their homes and way of life, enduring drought, dust, disease--even
death--for nearly a decade. Less well-known than those who sought refuge in
California, typified by the Joad family in John Steinbeck's "The Grapes of
Wrath," the Dust Bowlers who stayed overcame an almost unbelievable series of
calamities and disasters.
"Only one-quarter of the Dust Bowlers fled to California--most stayed,
persevering through ten grueling years," says producer Chana Gazit. "I was
intrigued by their stories--their stamina and resilience to battle through
frighteningly powerful, devastating wind and dust storms."
The first major influx of farmers into the Southern Plains came at the turn of
the century. Lured by a land lush with shrubs, grasses, and soil so rich it
looked like chocolate, the farmers didn't realize that what they were
witnessing was but a brief respite in an endless cycle of rain and drought.
Unaware, they enjoyed great harvests and raced to turn every inch of the
Southern Plains into profit.
"It looked like it was just a thing that would never end," says Melt White, son
of a Texas farmer. "So they abused the land; they abused it something
terrible...we don't even think what the end results might be."
But in the summer of 1931, the rains disappeared. Crops withered and died.
There had always been strong winds and dust on the Plains, but now overplowing
created conditions for disaster. The land became parched, the winds picked
up--and the dust storms began. They rolled in without warning, blotting out the
sun and casting entire towns into darkness. Afterward, there was dust
everywhere--in food, in water, in the lungs of animals and people.
In 1932, the weather bureau reported fourteen dust storms. The next year, the
number climbed to thirty-eight. People tried to protect themselves by hanging
wet sheets in front of doorways and windows to filter the dirt. They stuffed
window frames with gummed tape and rags. But keeping the fine particles out was
impossible. The dust permeated the tiniest cracks and crevices. Through it all,
the farmers kept plowing, kept sowing wheat, kept waiting for rain.
By 1934, the storms were coming with alarming frequency. Residents believed
they could determine a storm's point of origin by the color of the dust--black
from Kansas, red from Oklahoma, gray from Colorado or New Mexico.
"When those dust storms blew and you were out in them, well, you spit out
dirt," recalls Imogene Glover of Kansas. "It looked like tobacco juice, but it
was dirt."
The dust was beginning to make living things sick. Animals were found dead in
the fields, their stomachs coated with two inches of dirt. People spat up clods
of dirt as big around as a pencil. An epidemic raged throughout the Plains:
they called it dust pneumonia.
By the end of 1935, with no substantial rainfall in four years, some residents
gave up. Dust Bowlers watched as their neighbors and friends picked up and
headed west in search of farm jobs in California. They packed their meager
belongings and didn't even bother to shut the door behind them. They just drove
away. Banks and businesses failed, churches shut their doors, schools were
boarded up.
Yet even with the world crumbling around them, three-quarters of the Dust
Bowlers chose to stay. Some prayed for rain; others went in for more drastic
measures. Billing himself as a rainmaker, explosives expert Tex Thornton
claimed he could blast rain out of the sky. John McCarty, editor of the Dalhart
Texan, created The Last Man's Club, designed to promote a spirit of courage.
Judge Cowen recalls the pledge members had to sign: "In the absence of an act
of God, serious family injury, or some other emergency, I pledge to stay here
as the last man and to do everything I can to help other last men remain in
this country. We promise to stay here `til hell freezes over and skate out on
the ice."
In 1936, Dust Bowlers saw their first ray of hope: an innovative plan
spearheaded by Hugh Bennett, a leading agricultural expert, to conserve
valuable topsoil. He persuaded Congress to approve a federal program that would
pay farmers to use new farming techniques. By 1937, the soil conservation
campaign was in full swing. By the next year the soil loss had been reduced by
sixty-five percent. Though the new techniques were taking root and the
situation had improved, the drought dragged on.
Finally, in the fall of 1939, the skies opened. "It was a very emotional time,
when you'd get rain, because it meant so much to you. You didn't have false
hope then," says Floyd Coen of Kansas. "When the rain came, it meant life
itself. It meant a future."
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