The Chimes of Normandy: A Heartfelt Thank You from the Great Depression

I found Ernestine Guerrero’s poignant story in the introduction of Robert Cohen’s Dear Mrs. Roosevelt: Letters from Children of the Great Depression. The discovery was like uncovering a long-lost treasure in the attic –one of those nostalgic mementos from childhood that remind you of all that is innocent and lovely and good. And like a first-grade poem or junior high medal, Guerrero’s story doesn’t really hold great significance in the grand scheme of history. But the character behind it is admirable, indeed, and worth sharing. The humility with which this poor girl gave only makes the gift that much sweeter -and, you can be sure, what she lacked in material resources she made up in diligent excellence.

This is the story of how young Ernestine Guerrero used something crude and ugly, a testament of the grim days in which she lived, to build something intricate and beautiful, a testament of the integrity by which she lived:

Ernestine Guerrero, the daughter of an unemployed carpenter, came of age in San Antonio, Texas, during the Great Depression. She was not one of the movers and shakers of American history, but merely one of millions of youths who grew up poor during the nation's worst economic crisis. It is not surprising, then, that Guerrero's name fails to appear in history books on the Great Depression, the New Deal, and Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. Although historians have taken no notice of Guerrero, a piece of her historical experience has been preserved by the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library and Museum in Hyde Park, New York. On display is Guerrero's large wooden sculpture of a clock case, "The Chimes of Normandy," and the letter she sent along with it to President Roosevelt in 1937. The sculpture, which Guerrero began working upon during her late teens, consists of 156 pieces and reflects long and skillful wood-carving work. Guerrero's letter to the president explained that it took her a year of working with a coping saw to develop her carving skills sufficiently to begin shaping the clock case and another year to complete this fret work sculpture. But it is less the craftsmanship of the sculpture than Guerrero's circumstances, materials, and motivations that make so memorable her decision to work on it and send it to the president. She offered this gift to FDR in gratitude for the assistance that New Deal dollars had provided to her impoverished family. Guerrero had gathered the materials for her sculpture from the wooden boxes in which her family's food relief had come during the hardest times of the Depression. She wrote to FDR that her sculpture was the outcome of her desire to show her appreciation by creating "something pretty" to give him "out of those boxes" of federal food aid, which had meant so much to her and her family. "This is the best I have ever done in my life," Guerrero wrote. "I know that you have many pretty things, but please accept and keep this piece of work from a poor girl that doesn't have anything, also to show you how much we admire you . . . as a man of great ideals and a big heart towards humanity."

"The Chimes of Normandy" and Guerrero's letter to the president attest that impoverished young people in Depression America could be eloquent and even artistic in expressing their response to the crisis of their times. They suggest that youth was no barrier to serious concern and thought about the economic crisis, poverty, and the New Deal's expansion of federal aid to the needy—and that one might learn much about the meaning of the Depression by listening to the voices of its young victims. The problem, of course, is how to get at those voices which have now faded in the more than half a century that has passed since the Great Depression ended. (Cohen, 3-5)