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Chapter 3 College Professor, American Novelist, 1936–1958 “Nobody knew what would happen,” remembered Bruce Bliven of the New Republic. The Great Depression “was like being on a falling elevator when you don’t know how far it is to the bottom—or what you will find there.” Worse than the remorseless economics of depression was the sense of directionlessness and instability that afflicted many lives. Was the country on the wrong track? Charles Schwab, the head of Bethlehem Steel Corporation, represented many in America as he confessed his deep-seated cultural fear. “I don’t know, we don’t know, whether the values we have are going to be real next month or not.”1 There was much more than abstract markets, jobs, and consumer goods at stake. A stable economy stood as a testimonial to the vibrancy of capitalism and the inherent rightness of America itself. Jittery business interests, craving the certainty of cash flow, were openly fearful of the increasing agitation for legislative controls as potential government totalitarianism, but feared economic ruin more. Wanting to be spared any risk of responsibility to lead the way out of the Depression with credit and reinvestment, banking and industry were grudgingly willing to let the federal government regulate. They would endure the sacrifice of trimming off fortune-making peaks in market values if regulation also filled the valleys. Bank and business closures still occurred at an alarming rate in 1935, but at least there were not as many as three years previous. The Depression shifted the relationship between American citizens and the federal government. Government was expanding because the changed economic situation left no option: some sort of large-scale power was needed. If the business sector abdicated its position as the national economic engine, something else would have to replace it. Historian Michael Barone pointed out that in 1930 federal government as a whole consumed less than 4 percent of the value of the gross national product. Six years later the figure was 9 percent, a 200 percent increase. In addition, federal backto -work programs accounted 7 percent of the national workforce.2 It was a desperate economic gamble that did not truly pay off. Only the Second World War provided an 108 College Professor, American Novelist, 1936–1957 engine large enough to smother the dark fears of the previous decade. But in 1935 no one knew that. They were mostly hoping that Roosevelt’s measures would work. The Kroll family was enduring its private niche in the Depression. Harry’s sales had not just fallen, they had plummeted. By 1935 Son had turned fifteen. Torrey (who would not commonly be Robert T. till he was an adult) would be thirteen. Dan was nine. Harry’s accomplishment as a freelance writer was modest, compared to contemporaries like H. L. Mencken, at the top of his game as editor and contributor to American Mercury, or writer-turned-editor-turned-writer Willa Cather, who was approaching the height of her career as a novelist. Harry could boast over a hundred pieces of short fiction and a clutch of essays to his credit, most in small sectarian venues , to show for six years of unremitting creative work. It should have been encouraging . Instead, the slowly declining average return on his investment of time and effort were certain signs that he needed to reconsider pursuing writing as a career. In fact, Harry had soured on writing as an occupation and began looking for more dependable work. Just when he began inquiring and submitting applications for faculty positions across the South is not clear. Despite two bad experiences with the ivory tower he had no interest in returning to graded or even secondary education. He felt too old to chase kids, and teaching writing fundamentals like grammar while teasing ideas from woolly minds offered him no creative challenge. It would have to be higher education. The challenge of finding work was complicated with colleges and universities still clamped in the jaws of depression, making it a difficult time to find a job, but nationally hope was beginning to glimmer weakly. The late 1920s had seen large numbers of students entering college. Though the numbers of new students dipped markedly during the early 1930s, by mid-decade the trend was increasing again. Growth in student numbers generally foreshadowed a rise in hiring as well. The question was, could he get an application before a hiring authority at the right time? Kroll was doubtless aware that...

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