The Journal of C.J. Jackson: A Dust Bowl Migrant, Oklahoma to California, 1935

At a time when the American economy was struggling, a powerful drought that covered Nebraska, Kansas, Colorado, Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico created a disaster called the “dust bowl.” The drought in 1931 covered the Great Plains, causing crops to die and soil to dry out. Strong winds stirred up this soil, causing storms of black dust to swallow the land. People called them “black blizzards” or “dusters.” It was impossible to grow crops; animals were dying. It was even hard to breathe! People had only one choice — they had to move. Many headed west to California, loading the possessions they could carry into old cars. Some even hitchhiked. But when they arrived in California, they did not find much relief.

Unemployment was high in California, and the waves of fresh migrant workers made things worse. Wages were pushed lower because of competition for jobs. Entire families needed to work in the fields just to make enough money to survive, and since child labor laws did not apply to farming, children as young as seven endured long days in the hot sun picking cotton and fruit.

Meet C.J. Jackson

C.J. Jackson lived with his family in Oklahoma until the dust storms and drought got so bad they needed to leave their farm and move to California in hopes of finding work as migrant laborers. Here C.J. explains life in the aftermath of an Oklahoma dust storm.

When I woke up this morning, the only white spot on my pillow was where I’d laid my head. On my way to check the stock in the barn, the sky was so gray that it looked more like twilight than dawn. Tumbleweeds had caught in the barbed wire along out east field and trapped so much dirt that the whole fence row had disappeared under one long, gray drift…

As I walked through the henhouse, I was amazed to see the head of a chicken sticking out of a dust pike. She was buried up to her neck. I thought for sure she was dead, but when I bent down and tapped her beak, she let out a weak crackle. After I dug her out, she shook the dust off, wobbled into the coop, and took her regular place on the roost. I was glad to see that the other chickens had sense enough to take cover. We’d hate to lose any hens, ‘cause eggs bring us a steady ten cents per dozen.