The Little Red Wagon
With a somber tone, John spoke softly, “That’s it… that’s all we have.” Charlotte’s voice quivered as tears streamed down her face. “Johnny, that's not enough for the mortgage.”
Three ten-dollar bills were in front of John and his wife, Charlotte, as they sat at the kitchen table. With a somber tone, John spoke softly, “That’s it… that’s all we have.”
Charlotte’s voice quivered as tears streamed down her face. “Johnny, that's not enough for the mortgage.”
The fall of 1936 brought with it the weight of the Great Depression, causing life to be very difficult. John and Charlotte Ocamb lived with their six-year-old son, Hubert in Erie, Pennsylvania. John struggled to work only three exhausting days a week, earning a meager ten to twenty-five dollars. Every Friday, they would remove the cash from the white payment envelope and lay it on the kitchen table to budget for the upcoming week. They hadn’t seen a full payment envelope in three weeks.
“Johnny, what should we say to Huby? He’ll be home from school any minute.”
John put his head in his hands, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. He held his wife tightly in his arms. “We’ll all get through this … together. We always do.”
John was employed at an iron foundry next to Lake Erie. The iron was heated to a molten state in the furnaces, emitting intense heat and a shimmering glow. It was then poured into molds that were sold as castings to manufacturing facilities around the country. 1
John’s job was to guide a massive bucket of molten iron and pour it into these molds. With heavy clothing and thick gloves, he braved the molten iron and sparks that filled the surrounding air. He wore shoes with wooden soles that gradually burned away because the floor was so hot. As he worked, he sweated profusely in the heavy clothing.
John skillfully guided the giant bucket attached to a crane across the factory floor, targeting a mold for engine blocks. Carefully, he positioned the bucket over a mold and poured the molten metal into it. Moving on, he filled the next mold with molten metal. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he glanced down the line. Just ten more to go before starting over. It was back-breaking working and the twelve-hour days weighed heavily on him.
But he was grateful. Every morning, he was the first in line for the selection of workers for the day. He got there at six a.m. Depending on the factory’s workload, ten men from the line of twenty were typically chosen, but occasionally none were.
The following morning, as he stood in line, the foreman informed the workers that there would be no available work until further notice. He was not concerned this happened often, but the next day and the day after, the same thing occurred. After three weeks, there was still no work.
Hubert “Huby” Ocamb was walking home from Kindergarten on a warm spring day. He won first prize for his painting of the Lake Erie beach and couldn’t wait to tell his mother.
Huby had a one-mile walk home from school. As he reached the block where his house was, he was smiling and ready to run up to the porch to show his painting to his mother. As he approached his house, he stopped short and dropped his book bag, all of the furniture from their house was on the front lawn. His mother was crying in her favorite rocking chair on the front porch.
Huby slowly walked up to the porch. “Mom, what’s going on?”
Looking up, Charlotte wiped the tears from her eyes. She opened her arms and said, “Come over here, dear.”
Huby walked over to his mother… she hugged him. “We have to move, honey… your Dad hasn’t been able to work for weeks.”
Huby’s face flushed. “What do you mean move?”
“I know this is hard honey, but we have no —“
“Where are we moving, Mom?”
Charlotte took a deep breath, “About two miles from here dear. It’s about twenty blocks away.”
John walked onto the porch. Huby looked up at him, as John said. “Huby, I need you to be strong. We need to move until I can get back to work.”
“But Dad I love it here.” Crying, he continued. “I don’t want to go.”
John was a proud man and loved his family very much. He was deeply embarrassed and felt like he had let them down. He sat down in a chair and said, “Come over here.”
Huby stood in front of his father. “I know this is hard, we have to move down the road, and I need your help. Can you do that for me?”
Huby looked off into the distance took a deep breath, sniffled, and said, “Yes, sir.”
With a grim smile, he said. Good boy, let’s get to it.” He turned to Charlotte, “Honey, please move the car into the street, and we will load it up and get to it.”
The family couldn’t afford a truck to move their belongings to their new home. Since they were very poor, they didn’t have much furniture and most of their belongings could fit into their Model A Ford. It took five trips in the car to move the family’s things to the new house.
Two bed-steads remained that would not fit into the car. The plan was to use a little red wagon that Huby got for a Christmas gift. The wagon was a typical child's toy, measuring four feet long and two feet wide. It had small black wheels, white rims, and wooden stakes. It sat in the street, ready to be loaded with the bed-steads.
Huby held one end and his father the other as they made their way down to the wagon with the bed-stead. They took frequent breaks since the bed-stead was heavy and difficult for little Huby to handle. There were four to move, but the wagon could only handle one at a time.
After it was loaded, John said, “Huby, I’ll pull the wagon, and you steady it as we go… we’ll take it slow.”
A gathering of neighbors had formed to observe the events. Huby felt embarrassed and angry about what was happening. Even at this young age, he was determined to do everything he could so it would not occur to him when he grew up.
After straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he stopped crying and said, “Okay, Dad, I’m ready.”
They slowly made their way down the side of the street, the wheels creaking as they went. Huby held the bed-steads as they wobbled, and he struggled to keep the load straight. Occasionally, a car drove by, and the passengers gawked at the strange sight. After about an hour, they reached their new house and unloaded the wagon.
Charlotte was waiting; she smiled and said, “I have some lemonade for my two men. Come into the house and take a break.”
Everyone sat on the floor in their new home, enjoying the lemonade. John took a final swig and said, “Okay, Huby, let’s go. We have work to do.”
Huby mustered his courage, “Okay, Dad… I’m ready.
It took another three hours to complete the task, and as the sun set, the family settled in for their first night in their new home.
As I was growing up, I heard this story many times. My father told it to me whenever he wanted to teach me about work ethic, dealing with challenging situations, and delaying gratification.
We should all be thankful that so far, at least, we have not had to deal with the challenges my grandparents, John and Charlotte, had. We now have safety nets for when people lose their jobs. Yet, we have become so accustomed to these things that we fail to appreciate their significance and how drastically things have changed in just one generation.
I learned more details about this story in 2002 when I interviewed my father and made a min-documentary about him. During this interview, he opened up, and I learned more details that allowed me to write this story. He told me that because of his experiences, he did not want this to happen to him.
He started his own company and was very successful. He sold it and moved to Florida in a beautiful house just south of Sarasota with his second wife.
He and his wife toured around the Florida seas on his yacht until he was 85 when he gave up boating. He is still a member of the Sarasota Yacht Club and takes me there for dinner every time I visit. As of October 2023, he is 93 years old and still enjoying his life in Florida with his wife.
How did you like The Little Red Wagon? Please leave me a comment and let me know.
Beautiful story, Scott. And what an important reminder for so many of us!
In our era of 'throw away' items and the latest iPhone, your story is a wonderful reminder of the importance of family and being grateful for what we have, even if only a cool glass of lemonade.
Thank you, Scott, for sharing your father's story with us.