Doris Wilson and Betty Neal, in their Dexter High School senior pictures, look like they came from well-to-do families.
But they both missed the first two weeks at the beginning of their senior year in 1935 in order to earn enough money to pay for school clothes, books, class rings (which cost $6.50), and senior pictures. . . . to work at the local canning factory.
Betty’s grandfather, O.S. Neal (age 67), contracted with Iowa farmers to grow so much corn. He also checked the fields and hired the workers for the canning factory. O.S. and Nellie Neal were good neighbors of Clabe and Leora Wilson.
The summer of 1935, the canning factory was getting ready for sweetcorn, if only it would rain and fill out the ears of corn. Mr. Neal had just told Leora that if it didn’t rain that week, there wouldn’t be any canning.
In spite of the 100 degree heat, it rained twice in one week. When Doris asked Mr. Neal about jobs, he told her that she’d get a job all right, and her dad, too.
So Clabe and Doris, and also Betty, got jobs canning sweetcorn. When the town whistle blew, (while Doris was still asleep) Clabe walked to the factory, east of Dexter along the railroad tracks, to set things up.
The other workers had an hour more until they needed to be at work. They worked long hours–from 8 in the morning until midnight or after. Then Clabe and others stayed to wash the canning machinery and floors, scalding them with a hose and taking up to four hours longer.
Doris soon had blisters on her hands from shucking corn. And her feet and legs got so wet from the corn. By the end of August it was cool at night. Leora rigged a sort of lap robe for her, with an oilcloth bag around a gunny sack that she’d put her feet and legs into, then sit on the top part of it. Other workers made “similar contraptions” which they hung to dry in the warm engine room to dry overnight.
Clabe weighed the sugar, salt, and cornstarch, mixed it and put it in the cookers. Leora said the place was a noisy, sloppy place. Clabe also kept sieves clean and machinery going.
Doris hated it when corn arrived at the plant late in the day as it was getting dark, but corn has to be processed right away or it will spoil. If not, it would heat up and the cans could bulge and explode. So they worked as long as farmers brought in corn, most of the time hauled by horses, and stayed until the work was done.
Doris’s younger siblings took turns taking meals to Doris and her father, and a late lunch for their dad when he worked extra late to get ready for the next day.
Doris turned 17 on August 30. She’d just gotten her first pay envelope for a week’s work – $6.55 (20 cents an hour). That paid for her class ring. She got $12.50 in her second pay envelope. Even with earning less than $20, Doris’s senior year was off to a good start. So was Betty Neal’s.
Well-to-do families indeed. . . .
From Leora’s Dexter Stories: The Scarcity Years of the Great Depression. Also part of The Immigrant and the Outlaw: A Collection of Stories from America’s Heartland in a story called “Teenagers During the Great Depression” which also found its way to Our American Stories, December 2025.
When Doris Wilson married Warren Neal in 1943, Betty sang at their wedding and also became Doris’s sister-in-law. And my Aunt Betty!
A reader just asked whether Doris or her mother made her dress. Doris usually remade hand-me-downs but I found this in a letter from Leora to their “navy boys,” written Sept. 24, 1935: “Doris earned $39.15–got quite a few clothe, coat, dresses, waists, shoes, hat, hose, etc. She got Darlene some things, too, got her ring paid for. . . ”
Dexter’s population was 760 in 1940. I don’t know where she might have found a dress that nice in Dexter, but Leora doesn’t mention where she might have shopped.
People that grew up like Doris and Betty develop an appreciation for hard work and never take money for granted, even if their economic status improves.
Amen, Pete. But I remember wanting bobby socks when I was an early teenager and Mom saying how thankful they would have been during the Depression to have the perfectly good anklets I already had. . .
I can understand why you wanted Bobby socks, Joy. Anklets crept down your heels and into your shoes! 🙂
Yes, Nancy, and the town girls were already wearing Bobby socks!
Loved the story, Joy
Thanks, John.
Talk about working hard to get what you need! Kudos to all the canning plant workers, particularly those still in school.
Thanks, Liz. The plant is long gone, but adults who grew up in Dexter still remember hiking around what remains.
You’re welcome, Joy.
Clabe had unbelievable stamina. So did Betty and Doris! 🙂
Thank you, Nancy. Clabe has also had surgery and had lost blood, so wasn’t as robust as he had been.
Such hard work! It must have been very hard on the older workers, too, but as you say, the corn had to be processed. The photos show two very beautiful young women, and they certainly did earn their pretty clothes and rings!💐
Thank you, Lori. It was such a delight to put this one together!
That is such hard work, long hours and the growing trend of four day weeks 9 -5 so the poor workers don’t get burn out annoys me no end… Such amazing young women and a lesson to us all Joy… thank you for sharing.. ♥♥
Thank you, Sally. This was a very small town and during the Depression, so unusual times at that. They were so thankful for the jobs. The next year there weren’t enough crops!
Joy….I’m with Lori….beautiful young ladies in every way. This post made me smile. Almost like I was smiling back at the lovelies, through time and space. What a great way to start my day! xo! 💝😊💝
Bless you, Vicki!
Love ya, Joy! 😘
It’s really nice to read about you and your family, Joy! I’m glad you posted this.
Thanks so much, Tim!
My pleasure, Joy! 😍
My cousins grew up working in the nearby canning factory for spending money (1980s I think). Probably not quite as grueling as what Doris and Betty went through due to labor laws—and maybe the pay a bit better, too. A great experience for developing some maturity! Excellent story, Joy.
Thanks so much, Eilene!
[…] Well-to-Do Girls, Indeed! by Joy on Joy Neal Kidney […]
Love this story! The class ring is lovely!
Thank you, Linda. I hope my granddaughter likes the ring someday!
They were hto do in the values that really matter in life. The photo of her class ring reminds me of my dad’s high school ring. After he passed, I wore it as a reminder of him until the stone atop began to get loose. Since then, I’ve kept it boxed away for safekeeping.
I still have Mom’s. And my own. I guess Dad never got one. He was in the class ahead of Mom (and his mother is my only grandparent to finish high school).
I worked in a back country canning factory when I was sixteen years old. Twelve hour nights, seven nights a week. It’s all turned into poetry now: “Dancing in the Backwoods.” Happy to send a link if you’d like to read it. 👌
Yes, I would Ana. Thank you.
I guess I haven’t published this one in the last couple of years, so am linking youvto my own Dropbox file ~ let me know if you have any trouble getting to it. Best regards,
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/z4pkpnem7l35lhvzrh0xv/dancing-in-the-back-woods.txt?rlkey=42khp1cvyqovxid2arx9vehtc&st=t2gpga7e&dl=0
Very poignant, Ana.
My thanks 🙏