Office workers regularly ask me when I was born. I typically respond that I have no memory of being born and ask if they do. It’s all hearsay – whatever our parents told us.
But dates matter. I was born in that brief period between the Great Depression and the bombing of Pearl Harbor, when Americans could take a collective breadth before plunging into the next struggle. Having been born in that interval, I have no direct memory of it but memories were all around. Franklin Roosevelt was President and the vast majority of Americans trusted and believed he would do everything humanly possible to protect them. Many presidents have told Americans not to worry but Roosevelt did things about it, summarized as Relief, Recovery and Reform. He put millions of people to work constructing important public works in the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), Works Progress Administration (WPA), the Public Works Administration (PWA), and the Federal Emergency Relief Administration (FERA), doing everything from flood control to building roads, buildings and bridges, much of which we drive over and walk into today.
Roosevelt left no one out. He created programs to adjust farm prices and put artists to work. Roosevelt acted to prevent bank runs with the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC), stock market fraud with the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), fair business practices with the National Recovery Administration (NRA), supported and signed legislation for minimum wages and maximum hours, and most memorably the Social Security Act.
It was a sad day in America when Roosevelt collapsed and died, still trying to lead the country to a successful end to World War II after 12 of some of the most tumultuous years in our country’s history.
Among other things, those experiences taught me that the economy doesn’t run by itself, and that the average American isn’t well protected unless and until government steps in. And more, that the average American is very vulnerable. What we now call homeless encampments were then called Hoovervilles where the homeless burned trash in cans to keep warm. Their only vice – getting fired because the boss decided there wasn’t enough work for them.
I’ve represented many poor people who had been fired. Interestingly the men and the women dealt with it differently. The women were focused on the financial crisis, on putting food on the table. The men felt like they had lost their place in society, the basis for their self-respect. I felt like I was watching them die. They all wanted to work. That was crucial to their survival, their families’ and their self-respect. Poverty, hunger and homelessness are problems, not accusations.
And every time we put a poor person to work, it improves the lives of all of us. It increases the incomes of those of us who are employed. It improves the availability of services for us all. And whether it’s justified or not, it makes us all feel safer. If you’ve ever avoided anyone who looked poor, you are reflecting the fear that they could be dangerous. Frankly, I’ve met some very well-dressed people who were very dangerous – in fact their clothing was part of their m.o., their method of operation – and I’ve met some very poorly dressed people I’d trust with my life. But every time we clothe a poor person or rescue someone from hunger or homelessness, we’ll all feel better.
I only wish the Trump Administration could show that level of humanity.
Steve Gottlieb’s latest book is Unfit for Democracy: The Roberts Court and The Breakdown of American Politics. He is the Jay and Ruth Caplan Distinguished Professor Emeritus at Albany Law School, served on the New York Civil Liberties Union board, on the New York Advisory Committee to the U.S. Civil Rights Commission, and as a US Peace Corps Volunteer in Iran. He enjoys the help of his editor, Jeanette Gottlieb
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