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votes, I got a pink slip. When I went into the office to say goodbye to Ed Elam, then airport manager; he asked me not to leave. Ed even offered to pay me out of his own pocket if necessary until Abe Shushan returned from Washington. But I realized that there was no future for me in New Orleans, so Fran, Bob, and I went back to Mississippi. A few days after we left the City, I rented a fine old home on the beach in Mississippi City for only fifteen dollars per month, unfurnished. I borrowed a truck and moved our furniture from New Orleans. A Negro family was living in the servants' quarters rent free. I told them to stay as long as they behaved. In addition I paid the mother four dollars per week to clean our house and to do the ironing and washing. This was a big help to Fran.
The Negro family was on relief, and once a week they made a trip to the welfare office to pick up their share of the dole Mr. Roosevelt was buying with our tax money! One day I was in the backyard when they returned. The two women were carrying the groceries and I noticed that each basket contained two pounds of Cloverbloom in addition to the staples. We had been eating oleomargerine for four years, and I had just found out that FDR was providing all the freeloaders and loafers with the best butter.
Jobs were hard to find in Mississippi at the time, so I opened up an old Texaco gas station that was in front of our house. I borrowed $300.00 from "Dad" (my grandfather Bernos) in order to purchase the necessary stock and equipment. Then while Fran and Bobby kept shop, I called on every one within a square mile and asked for their patronage. The business venture was a success because we earned enough to live comfortably. Six months later, when the construction of West Pier began in Gulfport, I sold the station at a profit and paid Dad the balance I owed him.
What a man Dad Bernos was! A retired rice broker, he enjoyed the respect of everyone who knew him. He was successful in business, active in civic affairs, and socially prominent. A man of impeccable character, there was no way I could escape the great influence he had upon my character. I shall always be indebted to him. I loved and respected him and was at his bedside when he passed away. Some of my fondest memories relate to him - the skiff Jack and I built in his yard and how we got Mam to lure him
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into the house while I put the name on the stern, and the way he beamed when he saw the letters, DAD.
Raymond Concrete Pile Company had the contract to build the new West Pier in Gulfport, a federally funded project. All the work was divided into six-hour shifts, in order to provide more jobs. I worked in the loft on the piledriver, setting the hammer on top of the piling. When we completed the driving, I moved to the warehouse foundation and tied steel rods into the various patterns used to strengthen the concrete before the forms were poured. When the slab was completed, I helped erect the steel frame for the warehouses. Finally I helped erect the 135-foot water tank because we were paid thirty five cents more per hour for working to that height.
There were many accidents during the construction of the pier. Many of these resulted in lawsuits and I was often called in as a witness by my good friend Carl Marshall, attorney for the Maryland Bond and Casualty Company. I had met Carl when we built the Bay bridge, in 1928. There were about twenty-six attorneys in Gulfport at the time, and most would spend the day standing on the sidewalk, business was so bad! If an injured worker came by he was stopped by an attorney and a lawsuit resulted. Mississippi did not have a workmen's compensation law at that time which caused Mr. McGraw, superintendent for Raymond, to vow never to bid another job in Mississippi.
One of the accidents I witnessed occurred on the piledriver. Darby, the foreman, had cursed a leadsman, R.E. Monk, who promptly knocked him overboard into twelve feet of water. Darby managed to swim to shore and when he climbed back to the rig floor he was so enraged he picked up a peavey and headed for Monk. Mason Thompson and I grabbed Darby and wrested the peavey away from him. At that moment McGraw appeared on the rig and fired Monk. A lawsuit resulted, which was settled out of court. Monk was offered two hundred dollars, one hundred for his attorney, plus eight weeks pay from the day we completed driving piling. I advised him to take it, and he did. Monk used the money wisely. He bought a model A coupe, cut the back off, and built an iceboy on it. He then started a fresh fish route as far as Wiggins, Mississippi, and made a living for his family and thus stayed off
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