The Great Depression had its roots in the early 1920s. During the 1920's, there was a higher rate of production than purchasing, which caused stores to order less from the factories. This, in turn, caused factories to cut down on production and lay off workers. This series of events lead up to the great stock market crash on October 29, 1929. The crash caused many peope to lose their investments. Banks, bankers, and stockbrokers lost any money they lent out and depositors lost all of their savings in the banks that failed. Unemployment was spreading throughout the country like wildfire. Then, in 1932, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was elected President. He worked hard to pull the country out of economic depression by setting up the New Deal Program. The purpose of the program was to fight the depression and improve the economic welfare of the United States. Under the New Deal, many new organizations and administrations were formed to put people to work under government funded projects. Two such organizations were the Civilian Conservation Corps, and the Public Works Administration. However, World War Two was what really ended the Depression. During and after World War Two, the U.S. put many people to work making war supplies, and after the war, people were working to send supplies to the destroyed countries of Europe. Emilio John Cubellis, now 78 years old, tells of his memories as a youth growing up during the Depression.
Patricia Cubellis
My parents were immigrants from Italy. When my father came to the United States, he was lucky to get a good job as an apprentice in a yarn factory in Woonsocket, Rhode Island. And after a while, he became a mule spinner, earning $10-12 a week. Then, he met Speranza Atignano, and after a short courtship, they married in Providence, Rhode Island. Since my father lived in Woonsocket, they set up housekeeping in a tenement house there. Then, after a year and a half, my mother had a little girl, named Norma. Then, another year and a half later, more or less, she had another little girl, Antoinette. Things were hard at the time, though. When my mother was carrying me - Emilio - just before I was to be born, very few days before, Antoinette died of Diphtheria, and Norma died of Scarlet Fever - within five days of each other. They had just buried them and I was born. On the day of my birth, my father went out into the harsh winter in all the snow to get the doctor. He brought the doctor to our apartment on the second floor in an eight family tenement house on Cas Avenue. On December 22, 1917, I was born, weighing 10 pounds, and with big rosy cheeks. My mother was nursing me, like she had the others, but after a few days, I was dying. So they got the doctor, while my mother kept me on her breast watching to see if I was breathing or taking milk. The doctor came and prescribed some medicine, and said that I wouldn't die, although I was very sick. I got better, but the malady I had was to reoccur once a year for seven years. In the meantime, my mother was very depressed, and didn't have any children for several years. And you can imagine her life, always wondering whether I would die.
Between my birthday and 1927, three more kids were born. They were Louise, Guido, and Sylvia. My youngest brother, Gildo, came in 1932. My father was able to support us with his job at the factory, but in the 1920s, he was laid off. People weren't buying, so they didn't need as many employees. So then, my mother, being the aggressive one, set out with a horse and team selling fruits and vegetables house to house. To buy the provisions, she and her brother would go to Providence, R.I., 16 miles one way, come back to Woonsocket, and start peddling the fruit, tenement house to tenement house. Bear in mind, however, that each tenement house had three, six, or eight families living in it. In the meantime, my father, less ambitious than my mother, would stay home with the kids. My mother continued to peddle the fruits and vegetables until we were able to open up a fruit stand in Woonsocket, and this is what got my family really into the wholesale fruit business for several years. All during this time, I would often stay home from school to watch the kids, while my mother and father went into town to buy the produce. I can remember going into school and being asked, "Emilio, are you coming into school tomorrow?" I did this until I graduated from eighth grade in 1933. We were now living in the Depression Era, and I had to drop out to help earn money to support the family, since I was the oldest.
My mother, my uncle, and I continued to sell fruit in Woonsocket until one day, when we went to visit my friend Johnny Tavares in New Bedford, MA. He took us to Buzzards Bay, Cape Cod. In so doing, we saw a lovely fruit stand, with automobiles parked all around, and people buying the fruits and vegetables. We took a good look, and noticed some of the prices, realizing that these people were making quite a living. Then and there, as we turned around heading home, we spotted an empty building with a For Rent or Lease sign. Immediately my mother said to me, "Let's go see about renting this place." Well, we did, and we rented it for $50 a month. Well, to make a long story short, within three days, we had set up a fruit stand 200 yards from the one we had seen. Within a week, we were in business. But we weren't so lucky. We were too close to the road, and cars were unable to pull in and out, so the following year, we decided to tear down part of the building. However, in so doing, a piece of wood with a nail in it went into my youngest brother Gildo's eye. He now has to wear a glass eye. It was a very bad beginning on Cape Cod. This was all before the war came. My mother took in borders, and for $10 a week, she fed them breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all by herself. At the same time, I was still working in a factory in Woonsocket, earning $14 a week. I worked five days a week from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. Twice a week, I would shop for produce and groceries and bring them down to my mother on Cape Cod. Then, just before the war, in 1937, my mother and I, little by little, opened up a restaurant: the Mezza Luna. During the war, young men in the service would come and eat a heaping plate of spaghetti with meatballs or sausage for $.35 cents. Since 1937, my mother and I have run the restaurant, and someday, my kids will run it, too.
Emilio Cubellis
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