Back in 1975, The Orion Review decided to pay $5 to readers who wanted to share their memories of the depression years.
They’re so interesting that I thought it would be a good idea to reprint some of those stories this summer.
Elaine Stieb, editor

BY HARRIET SHAAR
My depression years were spent at The Review office (1931-41). I collected and wrote news, proofed galleys, prepared ads, updated mailing lists and handled all correspondence and bookkeeping.
Bill Jacobson, a self-taught linotypist, managed the back office — printing and mailing the paper, job printing and melting metal.
More than once editor George Neal had to borrow payroll money from the bank — $25 for Bill, $18 for me.
Bill is now in Minnesota, in charge of seven publications. I’m a building manager in downtown Detroit where I have my own secretarial service.
I did wonders with that $18 — paid mom $3 a week (which she never wanted to take), got a permanent for 99 cents. Once for $5 I bought a silk jersey dress, half slip, bra and hose. I thought I was a cat’s meow!
The Review grew from four to six pages, two-thirds of which consisted of mortgage foreclosure and chancery sale notices.
These had to run 13 and seven consecutive weeks respectively. If so much as a comma was omitted, the notice had to be republished the required number of times.
The Review had the reputation of being the most accurate in the county, thus meriting publication business from many Detroit attorneys.
The Review’s accuracy was due to not only Bill Jacobson, but to his predecessor linotypist Mattie Berger, a remarkable woman who seldom made a mistake.
Revenue from these legals was what supported the paper because there was little advertising, although classified ads were only 10 cents a line and display ads were only 75 cents an inch.
For fundraising suppers, Mom persuaded the church ladies to serve her inexpensive bean loaf which looked and tasted like meat loaf.
Men who thought they couldn’t enjoy a meal without meat didn’t know the difference and the suppers were profitable.
Mom made attractive pajamas out of flour sacks. We had parties all the time and taffy pulls.
Our refreshments were tasty and innovative but not expensive.
Koolade was the beverage, would you believe? Singing around the piano was a joy. Bills were sometimes settled with merchandise.
Dates were often Dutch treat. A seven dip ice cream cone was a nickel at Romeo.
My dad, at the grocery store just before closing, would bargain for perishables — like a big bunch of bananas.
I’ve had happiness all my life, but those Depression years were among the happiest, mostly because merchants were begging for customers and you got so much for your money.

Back in 1975, The Orion Review decided to pay $5 to readers who wanted to share their memories of the depression years.
They’re so interesting that I thought it would be a good idea to reprint some of those stories this summer.
Elaine Stieb, editor
BY RALPH MEEK
The first indication of the coming fiscal difficulty came from our local banker in Homer, Michigan where I was employed as school superintendent.
He asked depositors not to draw funds from their deposits unless absolutely necessary.
It worked and after the moratorium some two years later, all deposits were made available in full with four person interest. No other banks in most of Michigan were able to do that.
Later, when I was superintendent of Van Buren High School, word came that all banks would be closed. This was such a shock to a local cashier that he committed suicide.
During this time of moratorium of all the banks, our teachers went without pay. Grocermen, gas and services had to take credit.
A dollar bill was as scarce as a hen’s tooth. A 1,000 bushel of wheat sold for $250. A 150 pound pig brought $2.50. Some districts issued script.
Salary for superintendency went from $3,000 to $2,200 and $1,800. And one was lucky to have a job.
In the first year, 1934, when I came to Lake Orion as principal, I noted the TOTAL receipts for the school district No. 3 Fr was $36, 890.91. TOTAL expenditures were $27,243.47.
Of these expenditures, salaries for 18 teachers including the superintendent and principal amounted to $28,956.47.
There were 457 pupils enrolled in that year. High school enrollment was 231.
The first issues of The Review in 1934 contained some eight pages of which the last four were usually filled with contract, mortgage, lien or bank foreclosures.
Looking for a place to rent, we were shown about 15 rental properties.
Choosing an East Flint Street home with a two story garage, we placed our car in the upper story and made a place for a cow and chickens in the lower part.
An acre of garden with the cow and chickens helped greatly to keep us busy, healthy and out of debt.

Back in 1975, The Orion Review decided to pay $5 to readers who wanted to share their memories of the depression years.
They’re so interesting that I thought it would be a good idea to reprint some of those stories this summer.
By Verna Schaar Gustavus
My first music teaching position when I finished college in Iowa in 1930 was in a small town nearby (Tingley) for $1,125 for nine months work.
The second year I was the only one who got a raise ($90).
Then the school board cut out music.
The superintendent received $2,000. No teacher could smoke or play cards. No woman teacher could be married. No one could leave town more than twice a month.
I had a three-room apartment next door to the school for $14 a month. With no amusement in town, we organized a potluck weekly supper club.
So I returned home to Orion where superintendent AJ Huggett informed me music in schools was now passe?. (I’ve just retired from over 35 years of teaching music in Birmingham and Berkley Schools.)
In a federally-supported night school class at Orion High School, my pupils were evaluating one another. Margaret Tarpenning summed up Bud Schaar: ‘Too much gold in the mouth, not enough in the pocket.?
Piano pupils paid 10 cents a week for the class lessons.
I enjoyed helping Harriet Schaar proofread legals. Then editor George Neal put me on ‘full-time? at $5 a week. For this he demanded a ‘vigil? of 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
He fully expected me to walk or go by canoe to cover all the social events of resorters on 21 islands, cover all fires, drownings and political affairs.
Finally my dad let me use his old Essex. Having a car increased my popularity immediately.
When Gilbert (now my husband) came from Detroit weekends in his Model A Ford roadster, he used gallons of oil as well as gas. He worked 80 hours a week for $2 at a gas station.
Librarian Frances Bachman introduced me to much fine literature. The library was up over the fire station.
Winter sports were fun, like — girls would hang on to the middle of a clothes pole with a boy at each end.
We’d skate to the north end of the lake, open our coats and the wind would blow us all back to Park Island. Tobogganing at Bunny Run was always popular.
In summer, our happiest hours were spent with the ‘in? crowd who swam at Cole’s dock at the foot of Flint Street.
I often took a book and a peanut butter sandwich and stayed all day.
When my dad arranged for us to pick berries ‘on shares,? I’d put the younger kids to work while I went to Belles’s to play tennis. They had the only court in town.
The Kelly Park team played softball every night and sparked a lot of interest in that sport.
If more socializing was needed, there was always the Monday night Penny Dance at Park Island.
A great number of us had a lot of fun with a small amount of money.