Chapters (59)
LATER, EVERYONE WOULD REMEMBER IT as the year that changed everything. They would say it was because the war had ended and the markets were devastated; cotton prices plummeted from thirty-five to sixteen cents a pound. The cotton farmers had been patriots, people said, heeding the country’s call; they provided fibers for the fighter planes, for the uniforms, for so much more. They did not deserve this fate when peace returned, even if they had made a fortune. But what could be done now? Europe was slowly recovering, fighting had stopped even among the colonies and protectorates and dominions around the planet, and American cotton was not needed as before.
It was not only cotton. The entire country had fallen into bad times and everyone felt it. Banks refused to loan money. Shops fired employees. Workers went on strike. Women in the fields and factories were pushed back to their homes, relinquishing their dignity so the menfolk could reclaim theirs. Race riots erupted in cities across the country.
Crime increased across the Valley. Entrepreneurs smuggled whiskey from wet Calexico to dry El Centro, where Karak would go to shop; Anglos spirited Japanese and Chinese across the border. Butter and milk and eggs were often stolen from boxcars at the train depot. The sheriff told Jivan that his deputies ran more hoboes and drifters out of the Valley every week. They were found everywhere now, in town and in residential districts, begging for money, food, clothing, shelter. Many claimed to be ex-servicemen. The Valley jails began to fill. The American Legion issued a warning: Beware these fake beggars! They had not truly served in the military! Neither Fredonia nor any other community owed them a living.
Karak and Ram looked for other crops to grow instead of cotton: alfalfa through which to rotate, perhaps barley. They learned from Clive that Southwest Cotton Company had contracted to take $2 million worth of Pima cotton at sixty cents a pound. It was a special price for a special commodity, not mere regular cotton. They visited their ginner, Jake Smiley. Could he include them in that deal? They had twenty-five acres in Pima, it would help offset the loss they would take on the other fifty-five. He told them he would buy only five acres’ worth. Every cotton grower in the Valley was coming to him. “I feel for you boys,” Smiley added, as they left. “I know how it is. It ain’t easy.” Karak began to drink more, visit Mexicali often, to argue, or yell, if Ram questioned him on anything.