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Back Come Again No More Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover
  3. Title Page
  4. Contents
  5. PART I 
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. PART II 
  19. 13.
  20. 14.
  21. 15.
  22. 16.
  23. 17.
  24. 18.
  25. 19.
  26. 20.
  27. 21.
  28. 22.
  29. 23.
  30. 24.
  31. 25.
  32. 26.
  33. 27.
  34. 28.
  35. 29.
  36. 30.
  37. PART III 
  38. 31.
  39. 32.
  40. 33.
  41. 34.
  42. 35.
  43. 36.
  44. 37.
  45. 38.
  46. 39.
  47. PART IV 
  48. 40.
  49. 41.
  50. 42.
  51. 43.
  52. 44.
  53. 45.
  54. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  55. Touchstone Reading Group Guide

THROUGH THE LONG, HARD WINTER AND INTO the spring of 1934, Emaline clung to the radio and the mail. On the radio, she followed the titanic struggle waged by President Roosevelt and his top aide, Harry Hopkins, against the ravages of the Great Depression. The president had moved with stunning speed from the day he entered the White House, acting in hundreds of ways to restore confidence in the banking system, to put the unemployed back to work, and to bring federal relief to those who needed it most. A quarter of a million young men were put to work through FDR’s brainchild, the Civilian Conservation Corps. They were improving the national parks, building bridges and hiking trails on public land. The Federal Emergency Relief Administration was bringing help to the truly desperate, or at least trying to. Every day she listened to the radio news in the morning and again in the evening, catching snippets of the great struggle, trying to piece it together, to understand whether it was all tipping toward some horrifying final collapse or whether the nation and the world beyond were beginning to crawl out of this morass.

She didn’t need the radio to know how bad things were. Almost every day, reminders turned up at the farm. If they didn’t hear about the depression, the depression came directly to them. Colonel Amen was the most capable of all the hoboes passing through, but men and boys came by every week, wanting work, even in the dead of winter. They almost never asked for handouts. Like most of the desperate poor, they were looking for any job at all. They would muck out the barn, fix fences, build corrals, paint, help with the livestock. The most they asked in return was a dollar a day or a square meal or two.

Most times, Jake found something for them to do. As much as anything, he liked to have someone around to talk to. The first question he always asked was whether the man played checkers. The game was his third passion, right after boxing and horses. For a good checkers player, he could always find at least a week’s work.