For several days now, I have been thinking about one of my classmates at the Clayton, Missouri public school system. She was the only daughter of the couple who presided over the small restaurant immediately west of the Clayton High School.
She dressed plainly, wore no makeup that could be discerned and had little to say. She was certainly not part of the social circle in the Clayton public school system. I suspect that she was self-conscious in attending the Clayton school system because of the wealth of the children who were students there. In any event, permit me to tell you a little about her parents and the eating establishment they operated.
I am violating a rule here in that I am commenting for the first time about events that took place during the great American Depression of the 1930s. But this episode is about the Ehrhardts and not about me, so technically I am avoiding my own ban of discussing the Depression.
Somewhere around 1931 or 1932, the Clayton public school system erected a large additional building to house its cafeteria and chorus room. Those were on the second floor. On the first floor, it housed the classrooms equipped for the teaching of “shop” and a garage for the school bus.
There was only one school bus. It was driven by an amiable gentleman named “Shorty” Schaeffer. Shorty was a friend to all the youngsters who road his bus.
Across the street from this addition there was an ancient bungalow that housed a place for students to eat. It was a long narrow building with a sun porch in front, a larger room which must have been in former days the living room and dining room; and in the rear of the building was the kitchen. The place was owned by the Ehrhardt family.
Mrs. Ehrhardt cooked the lunches for the students, which consisted almost exclusively of hamburgers and frankfurters, as I remember it. The food was served by her husband, who had responsibility for the counter that was in the main room. The students often ate in the former sun room if the weather were inclement. In more pleasant weather, they would sit outside on the steps eating their lunches.
Some of the well-to-do children attending the Clayton public school system, including the high school, referred to the Ehrhardt establishment as “the dump.” When Mr. Ehrhardt heard anyone refer to his establishment as “the dump,” he became very angry. The Ehrhardts were doing the best they could during the Depression and it hurt him to hear the words “the dump” as it applied to his place.
The menu choices of hamburgers and hot dogs, if my memory is anywhere near correct, cost five cents each. Potato chips cost another five cents. Perhaps in later years, as we got toward 1940, the price may have doubled, but I doubt it. In any case, it was possible to eat with the Ehrhardt’s for a grand total of ten or fifteen cents.
The kids who ate at Ehrhardt’s establishment had very limited resources and could not afford to eat at the new cafeteria across the street where a complete luncheon would cost maybe twenty cents or twenty-five cents. That was clearly beyond the reach of most of the poor students. There were several students who brought their lunches to school and had no money to spend at all. Generally speaking, the children who ate at Ehrhardt’s had to eat there because, again, they could not afford the prices at the cafeteria across the street.
During all those years, I had attended the Clayton system along with the Ehrhardt daughter, who in retrospect seems timid and self-conscious. Like many of the rest of us, that daughter had trouble competing with the wealth of the rest of the students. All things being equal, the Ehrhardt daughter was non-descript. She did not stick out in her dress, or in her makeup. She seemed to just want to get from one day to the next without controversy.
On most days, the Ehrhardts asked their daughter to work at their eating establishment. She seemed to prefer helping her mother do the cooking as opposed to serving her fellow students along with her father. Working with her mother more or less prevented her from having to face the students that she considered to be her superiors.
I knew the Ehrhardt daughter for perhaps eight or ten years while I attended the Clayton school system and I can’t ever remember having a lengthy conversation with her. It was all only “hello” and “goodbye” and there were no extended remarks in between. I suspect now that the Ehrhardt daughter may have had an inferiority complex, which is not hard to understand given the fact that she went to school with so many wealthy classmates.
The Ehrhardt daughter was a good person in an unfortunate situation. There were students at the school who looked down upon those who patronized “the dump” as well as the Ehrhardt family itself. For my money, the Ehrhardts were hard-working people who were doing the best they could and the daughter was dutiful. She wasn’t beautiful and she didn’t wear lovely clothes. She was just the daughter of hard-working people during the Great American Depression. As you can see, I don’t even remember her name, but she made a distinct impression upon my mind.
I left Clayton high school at graduation time in January of 1940, and I have not seen either the Ehrhardts or their daughter since that time. For the past day or two I have been wondering whether the Ehrhardt daughter ever married or had children or had a successful career. She was simply a child of the depression, which may tell you all you need to know about her. Her father was often gruff but her mother was a loving person who extended a welcome to anyone who came to her establishment, whether they were rich or poor. I hope that the daughter took after her mother rather than her father.
And so I am sorry to tell you that she did not wind up being Miss America or winner of the Olympics in 1936 or anything of the sort. In point of fact, there is not much that I can tell you about her. But for the last day or two, thoughts about this inoffensive woman have bedeviled me. I sincerely hope that she enjoyed life after the closing of the Ehrhardt Eatery, which happened around 1945 when the street was widened.
As a matter of interest, in all the years I attended the Clayton public school system, I was never able to afford the prices at the school cafeteria. Paying twenty cents or twenty-five cents for lunch was much beyond my means. On occasions when I had a nickel or two to spare from cutting grass or babysitting, I often invested with the Ehrhardt organization. But mostly I brought my lunch in a brown paper bag which my mother insisted that I should fold up and bring home because, as she said, “They don’t give those paper bags away, you know.”
I am sorry to leave you up in the air about the Ehrhardt daughter, but if you ever see her please tell her that I send my best regards. Because that woman is now well into her eighties, treat her gently when you find her.
E. E. CARR
August 11, 2006
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Whoa whoa whoa. If a hamburger costs 5 cents, chips certainly shouldn’t ALSO cost 5 cents. Cheese and meat are both a lot more expensive than potatoes! Maybe the hamburger was 8c and the chips were 2c; that would make more sense.
Anyway, 25 cents in 2017 dollars is $6.15. I can get away lunch in San Francisco for $7 sometimes; in light of that, the idea of paying 25 cents for a depression-era school lunch in Missouri seems crazy. $6.15 per kid would add up quite quickly. Ehrhardt’s prices seem a lot more reasonable — it’s a shame the kids gave them a hard time.