Rambling Reporter, Ernie Pyle (1941-42)

The Pittsburgh Press (April 15, 1942)

Rambling Reporter

By Ernie Pyle

CLOVIS, N.M. – The middle of last month, when I was in California and writing about moving the Japanese farmers inland, one column said:

“The transplanting of these Japanese will produce a vegetable shortage unless some program is worked out for taking over their farms. And I can find no such program. The whole thing is pretty chaotic.”

In the mall today comes word that there is now such a program. It was set up between the time I wrote that paragraph and the time it was published.

The details come in a letter from Dolph Winebrenner, who is with the Farm Security Administration in San Francisco.

The letter is one of the nicest I’ve ever received, and was a pleasure to read, until I got to the end and winced when Mr. Winebrenner signed himself, “Associate Information Specialist.” But I suppose one of his bosses in Washington thought that up, and Mr. Winebrenner is probably ashamed of it himself, so we’ll get on with what he has to say:

“To maintain the volume of vegetables and other crops produced by Japanese and Japanese-Americans, a program has been put into action by the Farm Security Administration at the direct orders of the U.S. Army.

FSA agents control shifting

“This means that a vast double migration is being conducted, of Japs and others away from farms in the defense areas, and a corresponding movement of acceptable farmers to take their places.

“Several hundred FSA field agents, located throughout the evacuation zone, are responsible for seeing that the people who must leave are given a square deal in disposing of their property. They make certain the new owners or tenants are capable.

“To say that an agent must combine the qualifications of interpreter, counsel, custodian, examiner and general overseer barely outlines his work.

“When a farm has been vacated by a Japanese family, the field agent supplies the new operator with any technical assistance he should have, along with help in getting credit. The agent can make special loans, if necessary.

“The scope of this migration is greater than anything of its kind in history. About 150,000 people are involved. Most of the Japanese are second-generation citizens. In California alone, they farm 225,000 acres, worth 70 million dollars. They raise from 35 to 50 per cent of the state’s vegetable produce.

“In the first ten days of our work, more than 500 Japanese offered their farms for sale or lease through our agents, and about 400 applicants registered to take over the land. Numerous deals have been closed and loans already made.

Some crop losses inevitable

“It is interesting to note that we have had to operate so fast that few letters have been written to us from our field agents; the entire job so far has been done by telegraph and telephone.

“What crop losses will occur it is hard to say. Some are inevitable. Floriculture losses may be heavy, since few others than Japanese have the necessary technique. Strawberries may possibly be out for the duration.”

The thing that puzzled me when I was in California was where the new farmers of the Japanese lands were to come from, and who they were to be.

Mr. Winebrenner doesn’t say. I suppose, actually, they are all sorts of people, California is full of retired Midwest farmers who might want to get back to work. And the closing of small businesses is throwing thousands of people out of jobs.

This vast migration, and the transfer of lands, and the inward migration to the farms, had not started when I left California. I wish I were back there again, to follow it through. I hope some newspaper or magazine assigns somebody to do it beautifully. It is, in its way, another “Grapes of Wrath.”

Most of these Japanese are as blameless and as innocent as you or I, and it is a tragedy in their lives. But I don’t feel sorry for them.

I can’t feel sorry for them when, back in Indiana, in our own farm community, straight Americans who have had their land for generations have been kicked out on much less notice than the Japanese, to make way for an ammunition factory. And no place has been prepared for them to go, either.

The war is beginning to touch everybody now.

And how did I get off on this, when we were talking about a vegetable shortage? I’m glad the government has taken over, for something had to be done. Even so, I expected those magnificently green, lush and ridiculously cheap vegetables of Southern California are out for the duration. Now I can cut down on my spinach with a clear conscience.

The Pittsburgh Press (April 16, 1942)

Rambling Reporter

By Ernie Pyle

CLOVIS, N.M. – Some time ago (up in Oregon, I think it was) I mentioned how hotels seem to have a national conspiracy to start painting the halls as soon as I move in. Paint gives me a headache, and I wish they’d paint while I’m somewhere else.

One result of that item was a dirty letter from a painter saying that my complaints were subversive, and no doubt would throw 15,000 painters in New York out of work.

But that fellow overestimated my strength. Instead of discharging their painters since then, hotels seem to have doubled their painting programs. It’s got so now I can hardly get through a hotel lobby for the falling paint.

Literally, half a dozen times since that Oregon column, painters have started splashing outside my door as soon as I moved in. The latest one was here in Clovis.

Start painting in few minutes

I registered one evening. The room had a connecting door to the adjoining room. I couldn’t get the lock on my side to work, so just put a chair against it.

Early next morning I was propped up in bed smoking a cigarette, when that door opened and the chair was pushed back and a woman stuck her head in, then quickly withdrew it.

To make sure that she got me straight as a Sir Galahad, I called out, “I tried to lock that door last night, but it won’t lock.”

And she replied, “Oh, that’s all right. I’m the housekeeper. We’re just clearing out this other room. We’re going to start painting in here in a few minutes.”

I threw my cigarette away, took one last deep breath of fresh air, and jumped out the seventh-floor window. I’m writing this column on the way down.

Humor in the high schools

My little girl friend Shirley Mount in Albuquerque (remember, she helped me build the picket fence last year?) writes that the high schools are seething again with humor.

She sends along. some samples, a few of which follow:

Q. What is Hollywood’s newest war-dog hero?
A. Rin-Plastic-Plastic, to replace Rin-Tin-Tin.

And the next one:

Little Miss Muffet, sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider, and stood beside her, and said
“I’m rigormortis, may I set in?”

Next and last, for this is killing me: Use the word “regiment” in a sentence,

“Regiment well, but he got his face slapped anyway.”

Thank God, I’m 41, and too old to laugh any more.

Soldier pays, and Pegler loses

It is with pleasure that I am able to report today that Mr. Westbrook Pegler lost.

You remember the bet we had – whether or not the soldier hitch-hiker I lent the 10 bucks to would send it back. Peg bet I’d never see it again! I bet I would.

The $10 has just arrived, from the young soldier’s father. It was accompanied by one of the nicest letters anybody ever received. After getting the letter, I wouldn’t even have minded if he had forgotten the $10.

Now that it is paid, I can tell the soldier’s name. It is Pvt. Robert Henderson, and his father is R. F. Henderson, 524 East 13th St., Dallas, Tex. He said in his letter that his son arrived home 48 hours after leaving his camp in California, was married the next evening, and immediately started back for California.

Better luck next time, Peg. It wasn’t a fair bet anyhow. The law of averages was against you.

When I wrote recently about Maj. Bateson, the gardening man in Long Beach, there was a paragraph quoting him as believing we may run short of insecticides before the war is over.

Several letters have come in saying the major is all wrong about us facing either a vegetable-seed shortage or an insecticide shortage. There’s no way right now for me to check officially on the situation, but maybe later I can.

In the meantime, a lady reader from Pueblo, Colo., sends in her solution for the insecticide shortage, if one comes. She says her recipe has stood by her for years, and she’s had no bug trouble yet on either her flowers or vegetables.

She says she simply boils one 5-cent sack of Bull Durham tobacco in a gallon of water, lets it stand for one day, and then sprays it on her plants. Result – no bugs.

And here I’ve been smoking Bull Durham for 20 years, and I’m still alive.

Ernie Pyle to rest

For some weeks, Ernie Pyle has been in ill health. He finally has been compelled to take a rest, so this will be his last column for a while.