Sweet Life

November 12, 1933

Dear Mom, Got in the CCC – working in the forests. Address: CCC in Alpine, California. Sending you twenty-five every month. Please let me know all is well. Love, David

***

The Civilian Conservation Corps accepted both of us.

How did Romy get in? He used the name McCann. Romero McCann.

Like me, he had no birth certificate. Told everyone Romy was born on the reservation. Alluded to an imaginary liaison my father had years ago, complicating our relationship. No one asked after we prattled on about second and third nieces, nephews and cousins between the prairie and the reservation.

Where would Romy send his twenty-five dollars every month?

Got a mailbox under the name of R. D. McCann, a distant relative who needed funds. Told the recruiter she lived in a shanty town near the border without a street address or house number.

Were the intake workers suspicious? Nah, they swallowed all our lies hook, line and sinker to fill their need for recruits. The first hires had to be the best in order to make the CCC reputation shine for future recruits and continued funding.

Romy and I looked like healthy farm boys. Mostly, though I think we got on because we were smiling, ready to get off the streets. Not all the recruits were as eager.

***

Got our physicals first. Then we were tested for mental problems, education, skills and got plenty of paperwork all stamped with approvals. Found out through the processing that a lot of the men they'd chosen couldn't read or write, and most had no identification.

Every recruit was different. Many bore scars on their faces and arms, some tattoos, a few looked too weak for the work ahead. We were all alike in that we were skinny, quiet and waiting for a chance to work; dollar signs in our eyes.

***

Had to look twice, a familiar face passed me as he boarded the camp-bound bus. Stubbled chin, dirty shirt, and looking tired—where had I seen him before?

Took a few minutes to place him, but here was Toddy Stein, the man on the roadside with his family. Jonathan harassed his wife while I filled the radiator. He'd just made it in the last group of men.

“Hey, Toddy.” I got his attention. Found out he used the last of his funds to send his wife and children to Los Angeles.

He only said a few words too preoccupied. Worried about his family's welfare until he could put a check in the mail.

***

Rode a big, white bus crammed with forty men through the hills east of San Diego. Another bus followed filled with more recruits.

Rode up the Sunrise Highway to the Cleveland Forest and got out to find an area cleared for three wood-slat buildings and lots of tents in rows. US Army tents from WWI. They stood about seven feet tall in the center. I noticed each one had wires; we had electricity.

Inside the tents were narrow cots with a foot locker underneath each.

Lined up in alphabetical order outside the bus, we were portioned among numbered tents. "Remember your tent number. That's your home for the next six months." An older man called out and divided us into groups.

We were shuffled to the dining hall. Smelled good, but we had to wait to eat. Clothing and toiletry distribution was next. We handed over our bags for inspection and safe keeping.

"What the hell you got in here boy?" The man asked Romy when he passed our bag to him.

"Tools. I work tires and wheels."

"You two related?"

"Cousins. We're from Osage country, out there in Oklahoma, ya' know..." Romy started rambling, a trick he'd learned to stop a conversation with anyone getting too nosy.

The CCC worker dug through my bag looking for guns and alcohol. Then, handed me a receipt.

We and our tent-mates were taken to the shower for delousing and another quick check for skin problems.

Everything was timed, and we moved along between the guys from tents seven and nine till everyone was showered, shaved and dressed. Sparkly clean, we went to our tents and tested the cots immediately.

Felt good, but I knew we’d hard work for what we earned.

***

At noon a bell rang. Food!.

Good to see Romy in front of a full plate, eating like he'd never tasted mashed potatoes or fried fish before. Looking down the long table, I saw other men attacking their meal. Sure, we were all hungry and we could ask for seconds too.

Didn't say anything, but I had to wonder who would last the six months. Causing problems got you kicked out. You got something like a dishonorable discharge from the military. If you lasted, you'd get help finding work, carry your certificates, show you had a skill.

I winked at Romy and looked around for Toddy.

He waved, "Tent twelve."

"Number eight." I nodded and ate hearty.

***

After noon we were separated by educational level, assigned classes. Romy wanted to take the business courses.

The supervisors found out I had a tool kit and worked as a mechanic. They wanted me to go into vehicle repair. Not my choice, I wanted something more than digging grease from under my nails all my life. I asked for agricultural classes.

Our work orders came next. There were four crews: scrubbers, road crew, carpenters and springers. Scrubbers cleared scrub making fire breaks and generally cleaned away underbrush; road crews built roads. Carpenters built the look-out towers and worked in the camp.

I was assigned to the springers, hunting for springs and making small concrete catch basins below them. Romy was assigned to carpentry.

Every month we rotated through a different crew. Found it to be easier than we thought, we had breaks, set hours and everything we needed except privacy.

One of the supervisors took a liking to Romy and another guy. Set them working in the camp offices and fixing the out buildings. Romy was more refined than the other guys around camp, he had manners, knew how to speak with the supervisors and get along better than the rest.

***

Tanned and lean, no longer pitifully skinny, Romy’s body responded to regular food, healthy conditions. I noticed he was more of a man every day, balls and dick were bigger, swung when he walked, heavily haired with a thick, dark swath appeared down his front.

Shower rules dictated we face the wall ahead of us and be quick. Always had to scrub my groin when I glanced at Romy. When he was erect, his dick curved upward.

Showering side by side, it was easy to glance at each other. Couldn't help but remember how tight his ass was around my cock. Always hard while I washed.

Showers were difficult for Romy. His eager, young cock wouldn't settle down for longer than a few moments and being around so many men only made it worse. I noticed the men who quickly glanced and looked away, noted the ones who glanced and didn't look away.

***

One of the men in our tent got a radio out of his possessions and we turned it on nightly. Enjoyed music, dramas, news and a woman from Los Angeles, a preacher-lady. Didn't care about theology, but the way she spoke was different from the other preachers who condemned or begged. Sister Amy told her ancient stories like she was really there.

Soup kitchens, clothing, housing, helping the poor in so many ways, Sister Amy never asked a dime from the downtrodden. Had a big church, Angelus Temple, where she invited everyone. Everyone. No special sections for the blacks, or anyone else. They all worshiped together as a huge, human family.

Sister Amy was a beacon to us by her work, she showed us a bright future, we wouldn't always have to fight for a few pennies. Restored our faith in the goodness of men for those moments. Spoke of her Jesus. He was another poor man, working the byways like Romy and me.

Not so sure of heaven and hell and all that, but when they sang about the wings of a dove, a snow-white dove, bringing pure, sweet love, my heart soared.

Romy was impressed with the thousands of people who followed her.

One of the men in camp ordered literature from her church. New way of thinking about religion. Seemed to me she was showing how to redistribute wealth, a political act close to communism. She did make it sound appealing.

***

After the evangelist's program ended, the guys turned the radio off, we lay quietly reading, two guys were playing cards on their foot locker. All calm till our big, blonde tent-mate came in, Andrew Michaels.

Michaels had already been called down for slinging gravel on the other men's boots if they didn't do things to his liking. Most men avoided him. Assigned to the road crew on his first rotation, hated sweating and shoveling gravel. Let us know every evening.

Loud guy, cussing "the bitch" while we ate. Said he was only in this ‘gutfursaken’’ camp cause his wife made him apply.

We suspected he couldn't hold work in town due to his temper.

Michaels fumbled around his cot for a while, muttering about the supervisors. Earlier, he’d been pulled aside for another warning from the bosses.

***

The men in the tent went quiet and turned away, hoping he'd shut up and go to sleep.

Michaels didn't shut up. He looked around the tent, choosing his target.

Stood in front of me as I sat on the side of my cot, "Hey prairie nigger, your little papoose leanin' over for the boss? Heard he's in camp all day. Injuns get privileges now?"

He brawny body filled the space between the beds. In a foul mood, Michaels aimed his displeasure at me.

"Romy was asked to work in camp." I said, looking away. From the corner of my eye, I saw Romy get off his bed and stand at the end of my cot.

Then I smelled it. Michaels was drunk.

"Your squaw lickin' the big-shots' totem poles? What say we powwow and get you buffalo-jockeys to suck my peace pipe."

He leaned closer, I couldn't get away so I got ready – slipped my right foot between his work boots.

"Stinkin’ redskins."

That hit my switch. So fast you couldn't see it, I gripped the side of my cot, jerked my right foot upward shoving it up between his legs till I hit his nuts hard. Then I rolled back over my cot and stood behind it. He tumbled back, clutching his groin while the other men watched.

Looking past him, I saw the camp supervisor's face at the opening of the tent. My heart stopped. I waited to be called out for starting a fight.

"Michaels, pack your gear." The supervisor tossed an envelope on the end of my cot and waited while the big man packed his things mumbling curses.

For a moment I thought I'd have to leave with Michaels. Shaking with fear, I kept myself as calm as I could. The other guys nodded and gave me small smiles; didn't make me feel any better, I had to keep this work.

The supervisor left behind Michaels and said nothing to me.

Hard to believe.

***

Took the envelope, looked to Romy, "From Mom."

With Romy beside me, we read her letter. My family was doing well, Dad found work delivering linens around Allentown. My brothers were in school, a few grades behind but they liked it. Caroline worked part-time at Corning Glass.

She signed it, "Love, Mom." Underneath, she thanked me for the monthly checks, said the money had changed their lives. I kissed those words written by her hand.

It was in those moments I realized that things really had taken a turn for the better in my life, a big change had begun.

***

Our days were scheduled from before dawn till after dinner. Worked most of the day, classes began at three in the afternoon, then lectures on various topics. Learned government functions and civic duties.

Romy took advanced classes. Toddy and I were in the same math class, him on the tenth level and me on the fourth. We sat together and solved the exercises in our workbooks those months. Laughed often when Toddy helped me with the word problems.

Small amounts of cash I could deal with easily, but we learned about bank accounts and balancing a checkbook. That took a while.

Leadership classes were held in the mess hall after dinner on Sunday nights. Leadership is more than yelling at people. Hollering at them to stop slacking, berating them to finish up won’t work. Had to have a plan and show men how you wanted them to act by the way you acted. Had to appeal to men's ambition and conscience by your example, develop trust by being consistent, keeping your word.

The camp bosses were from the military, most showed good leadership skills.

***

We worked through our different crews, got our pay and checks were sent every thirty days to families. Got more letters from Mom thanking me.

Romy and I stashed our small monthly pay only buying what wasn't provided. Other men bought candy bars, trashy magazines; frivolous things.

Remembering the library, Romy and I asked the camp managers to bring books to loan out, I wanted to read what a guy named Twain wrote. The men laughed about the antics he wrote.

To everyone's surprise, a box of books arrived within the week. All the books were borrowed away the same night. Murder mysteries were my favorite after one about a man named Ahab.

***

Haircuts were all the same in camp, and the style suited Romy. I splurged and bought VO5 to make Romy’s black waves glisten. Hid my pride in him as his body filled out, his muscles were well-defined.

Romero McCann was strong and handsome, a real jewel among the others, smiling and confident. I admired him, his smarts and his strong spirit. Romy was excited about his future, he liked business classes and organizing his work crew to get their assigned jobs done quickly. My life on the farm served me well as I studied agriculture.

***

Took Romy out in the woods on Sunday afternoons along the paths worn by the deer showing him different plants and outcroppings I'd learned about. Few men wanted to visit their work sites while they were off.

Leaning over a boulder on the top of a hill, Romy slowly took me; started slowly. Gained speed.

Looked out on a wide horizon feeling his shaft move in and out. Rich feeling, made me tremble. His hands on my back, then grabbing my hips moaning as he'd fill me, those moments I felt like the world was offering me bounty in perfect measure. The expansive feelings I’d first felt at the beach came again.

Grove of pines sheltered us as we lay on a blanket eating jelly-bread from breakfast. We watched the clouds, talking about our futures. We'd kiss and embrace naked near a small stream and clean up aside one of the small catch basins I'd made with my crew.

As we walked back to camp, I always felt privileged. The other men didn't have the luxury of sex, though I suspected there was more going on that I knew about.

***

Shop windows held big red, white and blue NRA signs in town. Those business were supposed to support national reconstruction by hiring CCC men. We heard those signs were only to show patriotism to gain customers. A few companies listed their openings with the government; they were few. Money wasn’t circulating.

Six months came quickly; Romy and I were stayed on. About a third of the men left. They contacts, family to help them get work. We wouldn’t be so lucky.

***

The long white bus came again bringing new recruits. All the men were shuffled around among the tents that afternoon.

That night, I saw Toddy Stein sliding his footlocker under a cot in our tent. He was staying on too.

Toddy had endured some of my kind of harassment. He was a Jew and insulted often for it. Men around the camp said awful about Toddy and his children. I didn't know much about Jewish people, but insults all hurt the same.

Glad to have him in our tent. Something about him was calming, he wasn't any kind of hot-head, he was working to support his family.

Late into the nights he told us about Jewish people and their beliefs, their customs. Interesting what he said but not anything I'd want to live. It was work being Jewish. Lots of rules and prohibitions. Toddy explained they were aimed at making a good home.

***

Romy became a leader of his crew, and soon was helping erect barracks for the expansion of the camp. The next year, they expected to be running half-capacity with over two hundred men; two years on, at full-capacity with four hundred.

Mess hall and all the other buildings had to be enlarged. Plenty of work building barracks and plumbing and wiring. Romy thrived with the extra work and was in camp every day reading blueprints and stacking construction supplies, writing out his plans.

***

A man from each tent stepped forward to the supervisor's table at lunch one day, asked for a radio in the mess hall.

Surprisingly, they found one and plugged it in immediately. The guys loved music, singing "inky dinky do," "hidey-hidey-hidey ho..." Crazy lyrics and snappy tunes. Dancing and and strutting through the tables they were the "cool cats."

Got to the point we pushed the tables aside and danced. That did more for morale than lectures on patriotism. Warm evenings, men enjoying themselves. Enjoyed those hot nights under the bare bulbs and the voices of men as they sang along together.

***

Romy, Toddy and I stayed our full two years, sending or money back home, gaining muscle, experience and training certifications.

As we rode the bus into San Diego, we sat at the back, away from the others with Toddy. Shared a heavy load of melancholy with our parting, we'd become close. Covered for each other a few times when we needed to be alone, kept secrets, split desserts.

Toddy was a man I respected and listened when he leaned close, "You're always welcome in Torrance, we'll make room for you two." He glanced toward the group, then back, "I have something you might need.... Information, good information."

Toddy paused, "You and Romy aren't related, you're, um – men's men, right? Cousins don't spend so much time in the woods."

Romy and I froze.

"It's alright. Come by the house, I'll show you around LA. Still looking for work, right?"

"Yep. Heard the government's putting money into the counties to help the farmers. Got my agriculture certificate so I'm going to apply with them." I tried to change the subject.

"More to life than work, Dave. Put your load down a while and enjoy life. You and Romy will do well. Promise you'll come visit us."

He wrote his address on corner of a magazine and stuck it in my bag. "I need to repay you. Promise?"

He winked. We shook hands when we got off the bus, promising to visit.

Coming in Chapter 4:

We’ll find out why Toddy wants our guys to visit. What kind of information does he have and is it legit?

Life is good and becomes sweeter sooner than expected. How will that happen?