I got out of the car in a daze. I had stared out the window as we drove up to the ramshackle collection of tents and cardboard box shelters in Rag Town. I felt shame that I hadn’t been doing anything to help these people before now. I hefted my box of food that I had brought to distribute as a token gesture to show my goodwill toward these people who had flocked here hoping for a job working on the Hoover Dam.
The construction on the Dam wouldn’t start for months, but these people were here and struggling to survive until they could hopefully be employed. The small settlement of Las Vegas was over-run with unemployed masses hoping to find work. People were living in old cars, and sheltering in cardboard boxes, and shelters made out of whatever they could find. It was bad enough in Las Vegas, but 35 miles away, on the floor of Black Canyon, thousands braved the stifling heat, and harsh conditions, in the belief that being closer to the construction site would make their chances greater of gaining a job.
I looked into my box, and sighed in dismay at the scant collection of canned goods, and several loaves of bread. A few blocks of cheese topped off my collection. I looked up at the hopeful faces of the ragged people coming toward us. This would never do, I vowed. I would be better prepared for the next trip here. My small contribution would not go very far toward feeding the thousands of people who were on the verge of starvation here.
I passed out chunks of bread and sliced off hunks of cheese, and was amazed at the gratitude of these people. I had imagined being laughed at for my pathetically small offerings, but they were as grateful as if I was giving them gold. It dismayed me to think that they were so hungry that even a small hunk of bread was worth so much to them.
It didn’t take long before my small offerings were gone. I assisted my companions in handing out their offerings. When it was all gone, we accepted the thanks of the people and piled back into the touring car. I wiped tears from my eyes as I watched another car slowly moving through Rag Town with their own collection of small offerings for these poor suffering people.
I spent the next several days gathering up my next contribution to the people of Rag Town. I gathered food, and also added some story books that I had saved from my own childhood. I purchased soap that these people could use to wash themselves and their clothing. I wouldn’t feel as if my contributions were useless when we went back again.
My trips to the Rag Town settlement were no longer just a token effort. I was on a mission to do what I could to help the people forced to live in such harsh conditions. I went weekly, taking whatever I could gather up. I baked fresh bread, I spent my money on canned goods, and I offered my time, reading stories to the children out of the books that I had found.
I sat with children while their mother’s went down to the river to get water or to bathe. The river provided the only relief from the heat for these people. A cloth was wet and draped over a baby cradle to keep the infant cool enough to sleep. Wet fabric was hung in openings, to catch whatever breeze might blow through and cool it slightly.
I bathed the forehead of a sick child, and prayed with the parents for his quick recovery. I cried at the death of a young child. I mourned each death as if the person was a close relation. Indeed, I had become close to these people. No longer would I take anything for granted. I had learned what it was truly like to struggle. I felt blessed that I was able to help.
In the 1930’s, in the midst of the Great Depression, the small settlement that was Las Vegas was ill-equipped to handle the influx of unemployed masses hoping to find work on the Hoover Dam Project. The people who called this settlement their home did what they could to help these thousands of people survive. They volunteered their time, and offered what food they could to make life more bearable. Twenty-five men, women and children lost their lives in what was known as Rag Town, due to the harsh conditions of living, and the unbearable heat of the summer, and inadequate shelter during the cold of winter.