Tag Archives: Great Depression

Let’s Go to the Movies

Orphan Annie thought going to the movies was beyond her wildest dreams.

During the Great Depression, the time in which Annie
takes place, movies offered escapism.


I can count on one finger how many times I’ve attended the movie theatre this year due to the economy. But, I have not missed a movie education.

In fact, I have gained an extended education in writing.

TCM—Turner Classic Movies—features crime author Lee Child as its December guest programmer. He will talk with host Robert Osborne about the movies that inspired his writing.


While I have not read Child’s books, I thought it was a great idea to interview an author about the movies he believed told the best stories.

What inspires writers is great storytelling. When a movie is constructed with a well-written script, delivered by strong acting and cameras, I am inspired.

Ladies of Leisure


Courtesy of http://furglamor.com

Ladies of Leisure, one of Frank Capra and Barbara Stanwyck’s earliest movies, made my remote control stop on TCM. For what reason did I stop?  Was it Barbara Stanwyck’s character rowing in a fancy dress away from a boat party? She did not care to tie off the row boat when she got off.

She stars as a party woman who lives off men’s money in the 1920′s. Aside from my strong interest in the decade, I was enraptured by the writing and lines. In the scene when she she stays the night at Ralph Graves‘ studio because they’ve worked late, the rain runs down the window as she takes off her shirt. You see the blur of her back.

You feel the romance and edge Capra wanted audiences to see. Keep in mind, this was pre-Hollywood code days.

Later, the turn of the door knob captivates your attention. It is slow and intense. Ralph Graves comes in and Barbara’s character pretends to sleep. He puts another blanket over her.

The emotion in her face the next morning when she realizes just how much in love she is with Ralph Graves cannot be repeated by another actress. It is intense and yet real. In such an early picture, fancy words weren’t thrown in. Love often comes without the right words.

People dig inside themselves for what they should say.

Marie Prevost’s performance as Stanwyck’s roommate stole the show. She made me laugh in every scene. Jo Swerling translated the original Broadway script from a complete melodrama to a movie with some humor.

I admit I stopped watching near the end because the melodrama between Ralph Grave’s mother, in the movie, and Barbara Stanwyck drove me crazy. Once Marie was out of the movie, I lost interest. There was too much crying for no reason.

Maybe writing from two boys’ point-of-view for 6-and-a-half years has caused me to turn my head away from tears and despair. But, it has taught me appreciate a good fight scene.

Stand Up and Fight    

Robert Taylor starred as a formerly wealthy man who comes into a Maryland town that looks like the Wild West. Stage coach is trying to compete with the railroad. The stage coach manager in town hides the fact men kidnap runaway slaves to take them back below Maryland. Robert Taylor stands up to the manager, played by Wallace Beery.

The fight scene in the snow between Taylor and Beery stands out. You could see an active fight. It was not like some modern films in which the bloody fight is done within the ten seconds. No, this was a brawl.

The formula was simple. Two tough men fought in pouring snow until they were worn out.  All the other men who had chased after Taylor were dead. Horses were shot or had run off.

Two men, weary of fists, must travel twenty miles back to the town in the snow during the night. The film does not rush the walk. Why? They have been shooting, fighting, and then Taylor and Beery must fight for their lives against the weather.

Beery collapses first. You think, “Get up.” Taylor gets him up.

A few minutes later, when Taylor collapses, he can’t get up. He won’t get up. Beery collapses. The snow begins to cover their bodies.

Do they survive?

Watch the movie.

It’s what makes a simple walk inspirational.

By Rebecca T. Dickinson                                        

- http://rebeccatdickinson.wordpress.com/?s=Gene+Kelly

The Man who Started it All

He was a man of faith.

He was a man of science.

He was the man who stood at the train station in Alabama one day after being fired. This man saw the manager who let him go.

“Did you come to see me off?” he asked the manager.

“No,” he replied. “One hour after I let you go, my bosses fired me.”

This was during the Great Depression. The man at the station was my grandfather, George M. Dickinson Jr.

My father—his son—was invited to give a sermon at his church today. He spoke of George, and I heard the prior mentioned story for the first time.

Stories about my grandfather could span a long life of their own. Some tales are funny, some are moving, and the most significant stories make you realize no one had his guts, tenacity, imagination and strength.

One Fact is for Certain

My grandfather’s life inspired the project about which I am most passionate and have treated as a (much loved) career throughout Sons of the Edisto‘s six years. George’s life sparked Dad’s sermon just as it sparked SotE.

Anyone’s grandfather can inspire them,” you might say.

Not everyone’s grandfather was George M. Dickinson Jr.

When the Time Came

I fiddled with poems and short stories in early 2006, but I was distracted by a bad relationship and an ill-considered sorority. I had not accepted my path.

I had forgotten life for a writer is very different.

You cannot hide from it.

It will find you.

Whether you have one story or ten, they will find you.

I shot out of bed at 3:00 am during June 2006 and turned on the light. I began writing what I thought would be a short story inspired by (you fill in the blank).

Why my Grandfather?

During the teen years and first semester of college, I was a songwriter. I wanted to compose something in my grandfather’s memory, but nothing did him justice. I grew bored with music,and left it behind.

I could not leave the idea of Papa behind. Somehow that man who had stood at the train station deserved whatever small piece of immortality I could offer him.

In a time when fear shook the United States, a political group attended the 1924 Democratic Convention in New York, NY. The group, with 5 million members nationwide, fed on fear of immigration and encouraged intolerance. The 1920s faction was not made up of the cliché cartoonish uneducated men from the South.

The Ku Klux Klan represented white men, women and its youth organization for what it considered to be America’s roots and Protestant values. They were educated and believed they were right.

My grandfather knew they were wrong.

George—a chemist from South Carolina—burned a robe from his father’s shed along with Klan paperwork.

He burned it all despite opinions of that time.

“I can’t talk about that,” my father said to me before his sermon.

“No, but you can recognize the spirit your father had to stand up to injustice.”

That man at the train station burned a robe, became a chemist, recognized love above all things and inspired the work I hope will be recognized one day.

By Rebecca T. Dickinson

I would like to thank everyone who has continued to support my blog since I have not been online as much to read and write on WordPress due to a busy work schedule. I am working to set aside time for reading, because there are so many of you who write such wonderful blogs.

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