Caleb Macintosh took his money out of the stock market in late July, 1929.† All of it.† Just a hunch, he always said when people asked how he avoided the crash.† So Caleb, who hated banks, stuffed a couple hundred thousand dollars in his mattress and down a hole in his closet floor.† When the shit hit the fan in late October, things spiraled down quicker than anyone ever imagined.† Bread lines.† No one working.† Houses selling for pennies on the dollar. †††††††††††
Caleb walked the city streets in a pressed suit, looking every bit as prosperous as ever.† There was a sub-division just east of downtown called Johnsonís Acres.† Pretty little yards, nice bungalows with two or three bedrooms and indoor plumbing.† Folks had gotten hooked on nice things after WW 1 and they bought those places on thirty year notes.†
As the depression deepened, Caleb, in a show of uninhibited enthusiasm, walked door to door acquiring the deed to one house after another.† Some said he owned more than eighty percent of that addition.††He rented them back to folks if they could pay him or else he tossed them out on the streets.
You just canít fuck with God.† Come October the next year, a flood came through and inundated Johnsonís Acres.† Old Caleb never got around to insuring his plunder and just a year after everyone else went under, Caleb Macintosh finally got his due.