July, the Senate rejected the bonus 62 to 18. Most of the protesters went home, aided by
Hoover's offer of free passage on the rails. Ten thousand remained behind, among them a
hard core of Communists and other organizers. On the morning of July 28, forty protesters
tried to reclaim an evacuated building in downtown Washington scheduled for demolition.
The city's police chief, Pellham Glassford, sympathetic to the marchers, was knocked down
by a brick. Glassford's assistant suffered a fractured skull. When rushed by a crowd, two
other policemen opened fire. Two of the marchers were killed.
Bud Fields and his family. Alabama. 1935 or 1936. Photographer: Walker Evans.
Squatter's Camp, Route 70, Arkansas, October, 1935.
Photographer: Ben Shahn
Philipinos cutting lettuce, Salinas, California, 1935. Photographer: Dorothea Lange.
In order to maximize their ability to exploit farm workers, California employers recruited from China, Japan, the Philippines, Puerto Rico, Mexico, the American south, and Europe.
Roadside stand near Birmingham, Alabama, 1936. Photographer: Walker Evans.
Farmer and sons, dust storm, Cimarron County, Oklahoma, 1936. Photographer: Arthur Rothstein.
The drought that helped cripple agriculture in the Great Depression was the worst in the climatological history of the country. By 1934 it had dessicated the Great Plains, from North Dakota to Texas, from the Mississippi River Valley to the Rockies. Vast dust storms swept the region.
Migrant pea pickers camp in the rain. California, February, 1936. Photographer: Dorothea Lange.
In one of the largest pea camps in California. February, 1936. Photographer: Dorothea Lange.
The photograph that has become known as "Migrant Mother" is one of a series of photographs that Dorothea Lange made in February or March of 1936 in Nipomo, California. Lange was concluding a month's trip photographing migratory farm labor around the state for what was then the Resettlement Administration. In 1960, Lange gave this account of the experience: I saw and approached the hungry and desperate mother, as if drawn by a magnet. I do not remember how I explained my presence or my camera to her, but I do remember she asked me no questions. I made five exposures, working closer and closer from the same direction. I did not ask her name or her history. She told me her age, that she was thirty-two. She said that they had been living on frozen vegetables from the surrounding fields, and birds that the children killed. She had just sold the tires from her car to buy food. There she sat in that lean- to tent with her children huddled around her, and seemed to know that my pictures might help her, and so she helped me. There was a sort of equality about it. (From: Popular Photography , Feb. 1960).
The simplest transitions are coordinating conjunctions, also known as the "FAN BOYS" words: for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so. These common words help us connect not only our words but our ideas. For example, when you use the word "so," you are saying, "here's something that we can conclude from what I just said." When you use "or," you are saying, "here's another possibility." The most commonly used coordinating conjunction, "and," is also the weakest in terms of the meaning it conveys, indicating only that "here's something else." Coordinating conjunction do act as transitions, but they are not enough to give an essay a strong sense of cohesion.
In German, all the Nouns begin with a capital letter. Now that is a good idea; and a good idea, in this language, is necessarily conspicuous from its lonesomeness. I consider this capitalizing of nouns a good idea, because by reason of it you are almost always able to tell a noun the minute you see it. You fall into error occasionally, because you mistake the name of a person for the name of a thing, and waste a good deal of time trying to dig a meaning out of it. German names almost always do mean something, and this helps to deceive the student. I translated a passage one day, which said that "the infuriated tigress broke loose and utterly ate up the unfortunate fir forest" ( Tannenwald ). When I was girding up my loins to doubt this, I found out that Tannenwald in this instance was a man's name.