The Grapes of Wrath

Beside an irrigation ditch a preacher labored and the people cried. And the preacher paced like a tiger, whipping the people with his voice, and they groveled and whined on the ground. He calculated them, gauged them, played on them, and when they were all squirming on the ground he stooped down and of his great strength he picked each one up in his arms and shouted. Take ’em, Christ! and threw each one in the water. And when they were all in, waist deep in the water, and looking with frightened eyes at the master, he knelt down on the bank and he prayed for them; and he prayed that all men and women might grovel and whine on the ground. Men and women, dripping, clothes sticking tight, watched; then gurgling and sloshing in their shoes they walked back to the camp, to the tents, and they talked softly in wonder:

We been saved, they said. We’re washed white as snow. We won’t never sin again.

And the children, frightened and wet, whispered together:

We been saved. We won’t sin no more.

Wisht I knowed what all the sins was, so I could do ’em.

THE MIGRANT PEOPLE looked humbly for pleasure on the roads.

CHAPTER 24

ON SATURDAY MORNING the wash tubs were crowded. The women washed dresses, pink ginghams and flowered cottons, and they hung them in the sun and stretched the cloth to smooth it. When afternoon came the whole camp quickened and the people grew excited. The children caught the fever and were more noisy than usual. About mid-afternoon child bathing began, and as each child was caught, subdued, and washed, the noise on the playground gradually subsided. Before five, the children were scrubbed and warned about getting dirty again; and they walked about, stiff in clean clothes, miserable with carefulness.

At the big open-air dance platform a committee was busy. Every bit of electric wire had been requisitioned. The city dump had been visited for wire, every tool box had contributed friction tape. And now the patched, spliced wire was strung out to the dance floor, with bottle necks as insulators. This night the floor would be lighted for the first time. By six o’clock the men were back from work or from looking for work, and a new wave of bathing started. By seven, dinners were over, men had on their best clothes: freshly washed overalls, clean blue shirts, sometimes the decent blacks. The girls were ready in their print dresses, stretched and clean, their hair braided and ribboned. The worried women watched the families and cleaned up the evening dishes. On the platform the string band practiced, surrounded by a double wall of children. The people were intent and excited.

In the tent of Ezra Huston, chairman, the Central Committee of five men went into meeting. Huston, a tall spare man, wind-blackened, with eyes like little blades, spoke to his committee, one man from each sanitary unit.

“It’s goddamn lucky we got the word they was gonna try to bust up the dance!” he said. The tubby little representative from Unit Three spoke up. “I think we oughta squash the hell out of em, an’ show ’em.”

“No,” said Huston. “That’s what they want. No, sir. If they can git a fight goin’, then they can run in the cops an’ say we ain’t orderly. They tried it before— other places.” He turned to the sad dark boy from Unit Two. “Got the fellas together to go roun’ the fences an’ see nobody sneaks in?”

The sad boy nodded. “Yeah! Twelve. Tol’ ’em not to hit nobody. Jes’ push ’em out ag’in.” Huston said, “Will you go out an’ find Willie Eaton? He’s chairman a the entertainment, ain’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, tell ’im we wanta see ’im.” The boy went out, and he returned in a moment with a stringy Texas man. Willie Eaton had a long fragile jaw and dust-colored hair. His arms and legs were long and loose, and he had the gray sunburned eyes of the Panhandle. He stood in the tent, grinning, and his hands pivoted restlessly on his wrists.

Huston said, “You heard about tonight?” Willie grinned. “Yeah!”

“Did anything ’bout it?”

“Yeah!”

“Tell what you done.” Willie Eaton grinned happily. “Well, sir, ordinary ent’tainment committee is five. I got twenty more— all good strong boys. They’re a-gonna be a-dancin’ an’ a-keepin’ their eyes open an’ their ears open. First sign— any talk or argament, they close in tight. Worked her out purty nice. Can’t even see nothing. Kinda move out, an’ the fella will go out with ’em.”

“Tell ’em they ain’t to hurt the fellas.” Willie laughed gleefully. “I tol’ ’em,” he said. “Well tell ’em so they know.”

“They know. Got five men out to the gate lookin’ over the folks that comes in. Try to spot ’em ’fore they git started.” Huston stood up. His steel-colored eyes were stern. “Now you look here, Willie. We don’t want them fellas hurt. They’s gonna be deputies out by the front gate. If you blood ’em up, why— them deputies’ll git you.”

“Got that there figgered out,” said Willie. “Take ’em out the back way, into the fiel’. Some a the boys’ll see they git on their way.”