An Iowa Farm Boy
Father always managed to make enough money to live on during the depression. At one time he was in the egg business with a partner. They sold eggs to the good hotels in Chicago. They guaranteed each hotel that every egg they sold them would be gathered from the same farm. Thus the hotel would know that the eggs they served would be consistent. This was a good going business until the partner ran off to California with the money. My grandmother had a beauty shop in Cedar Rapids later and perhaps did during that time. I know he sold beauty supplies around Iowa for a time.
Life in those days was so different from what it is now. It was more than the lack of technology. Money was more than scarce. Many people never or hardly ever traveled more than 50 miles from where they were born. A long distance phone call was something to be remembered.
Every period of time is an important period in one's life. My time on the farm was no exception. I have many memories of those days but they seem to flash in an out of my mind unexpectedly. Can I recreate them on demand? I stayed part of the summer on the farm from 1941-1946, a life time ago. There are things I do not know, some very fundamental. For example I have no idea how or why it was decided that I would go there in the first place or why I agreed to go.
One Spring day when I was ten, to me out of a clear blue sky, my mother asked me if I would like to spend the summer on an Iowa farm. I would be living with Isabel and Neal Sink in south central Iowa. I had never heard of this couple, never saw a picture of them, never heard either of their voices or read anything they wrote. I was familiar with Iowa as my father was born there and I had visited my Grandmother in Cedar Rapids. I had no memory of ever living in Iowa. I did not know what to say or what to think. Evidently eventually I did agree to go. ***Update Thanksgiving 2012. Our son Alan cleared up a mystery this weekend. I had never understood the communication link between my parents and Isabel and Neal Sink. Isabel's mother was my grandmother's sister.*** ### Another Update July 2018: There were sound reasons I spent summers on the farm. All the years were in WWII. With both parents working I would have been spending a lot of time alone, Also it gave me the opportunity to expand my horizons in a vastly different environment: ##
As you read this it is important to keep this thought in mind. While there were the normal ups and downs of life my memories of my farm days are totally positive. I have no idea why I went but extremely glad I did. I treasure the experience. The family atmosphere was very different. The environment was totally different, From crowded Cleveland to the wide open spaces of an Iowa farm. There were constantly new experiences to digest. During the few years I went there I lived two completely different lives. A time to remember and to relish the memories.
Looking back the travel arrangements would now be considered unusual. My parents put me on a train in Cleveland, Ohio. Traveler's Aid picked me up when I got to Chicago and took me to another train station for the trip to Osceola, Iowa. This was about a 700 mile train ride to a family that was completely unknown to me. I was told that they had a son that died who would have been near my age.
On the way I thought about how they would look and what they would be like. I pictured them about the age of my parents. When they met me he would be dressed in a suit and she would be slim and trim in a Sunday dress. They were about the same age as my parents. Neal was dressed, as one would expect, in his farm overalls, and Isabel dressed in her farm clothes. She was far from slim and trim. They did look nice and we seemed to get along at first meeting. We drove to the farm in his Model A Ford.
It is hard to now imagine the transition from a near inter city Cleveland kid to an Iowa primitive farm. I had never seen a farm animal of any kind up close. Never spent much time out of a city. Our greater family did have a cottage near Muskegon, Michigan that was used by two families. I had been there for a few summers. The farm was on a dirt road, no electricity, and no running water. They used a car battery to power their radio, kerosene lamps for lighting, and the Cave to cool the food. The Cave was a small building near the house partly
underground so that it
was cool enough that food could be kept safe for a short
period. The Cave was also used as a tornado
shelter. The telephone was on a 10 party
line. Their ring was long-short-long. No
matter what party was called the phones rang in all 10
houses. Privacy did not exist on that phone. Their
farming was done with horses. <<<<<< Richard, Isabel and Neal. We are all dressed up for a picnic!!
The summers were spent living on two different farms. First a rented place on County Line road and 80 acres two or three miles away. Their beef cattle were on the 80 acres. Of all the farms in the area none had fewer modern conveniences. I did not even realize that they were poor, but wasn't everyone in 1941? Later they moved a house on the '80' and just farmed there. Basically this tale ignores where we were living and just has snippets of life that I remember.
We arrived at the farm and Neal said we had to go to the barn. Within minutes after arrival I saw a calf being born. It was born earlier than had been expected. This was quite an experience for me as I was completely ignorant of so many things in life.
Isabel and Neal lived near Van Wert, Iowa a town of about 350. Her father had been mayor a few years before. Van Wert had all the essentials. A pool hall and a barber shop for sitting around and exchanging local news, a movie theater, post office and a general store that sold everything. The general store was typical of the times. Wood floor, food in barrels and you scooped out what you wanted to buy.
The two nearest big (~2,500) towns were Osceola, ten miles north and Leon ten miles south. Here we went for doctors, banks and the like.
After watching the birth we went into the house and I got to inspect my home for the summer. I had my own bedroom. There was a parlor with a piano. a living room and a kitchen. The kitchen had a large stove fueled mostly
with corn cobs (with some
wood and coal), as they were plentiful and free. There
was a corn cob burning heater in the living room to heat
the remainder of the house. I imagine that during
the winter months more coal and wood were used for
heating. I was never on the farm in cold weather.
The Outhouse and the well were outside maybe 30 feet
from the house. Pumping water into a bucket and
bringing it into the house for cooking and drinking was
my first job. I had never before seen a pump up
close.I seen found out that taking a bath was done by heating the carried water, pouring it into a wash tub and jumping in. A novel idea but not as easy as I was used to.
The next day was laundry day and I found myself running the washer. It worked by moving an upright lever back and fort to tumble the clothes in the water that was pumped, carried in and heated on the stove.
Breakfast was different from what I was used to. Most days breakfast would consist of something like fried potatoes, cereal, pie, juice and biscuits. The biscuits looked to me like a 1/4 loaf of bread and were wonderful. Isabel was a great cook and I do not believe I appreciated how difficult it must be to cook and bake well using a cast iron stove fueled by corn cobs. Well, everything was different from what I was used to! We would get up and do the chores before breakfast. I learned to go to the pasture, and herd the 5 or so milk cows to the barn. We then milked them by hand. I did not start milking right away as it had to be done correctly to
keep the cows
fresh. I would often feed the chickens, gather the
eggs and slop the hogs. It seemed on the farm corn cobs, bailing wire and a pair of pliers were the basic essentials used to repair most everything. Now duct tape is the magic tool.
Neal was not a born farmer. I am still not sure of the facts. My impression is that he was in some other field before he and Isabel were married. Photography popped into my mind but no, it was Isabel that once had a photo shop. He said he learned to farm by waiting to see what the neighbors did then he would then do it. When they plowed, he plowed, etc. He was a kidder but this I completely believe.
We did not always start the day as early as most. No, he was not lazy we all worked hard. Looking back I do not believe he was meant to be a farmer and wonder how it happened. I did ask him one day if he ever went to the How To Farm Clinics that the colleges and other groups put on. He said something like. No, I do not farm now as well as I know how. I do not know if this comments fits in here, but when I was a child I do not remember any non family adult that I had more respect for. He was hard working, honest, helpful and respectful of others, and well respected in his community. I do not throw around such compliments Willie Nillie.
Starting to write about the day to day life on the farm I think, "where do I start, what do I say". Then I recalled something our daughter Susan said, "You were not farm worker, you were family". And that was very true. and in family life the days go by one by one. The amazing and the extraordinary do not happen very often. Or perhaps more accurately we do not always consider what is happening as amazing when often times it actually is. Thus I plan to jot down things as the enter my mind without regard to where or when they happened.
The first couple years I doubt I was of little farm help. Only a noisy part of the family. The last couple years I could do anything required.
Oats were a major crop in the area. At harvest time farmers from a fairly wide area would bring in a threshing machine powered by a tractor to separate the oats from the stalks. This was hot, dirty and potentially dangerous task if everyone was not careful. It would be easy to lose an arm or a life if one forgot the safety rules. While I was still young I had the best job of anyone, Water Boy. For the workers in the field who bought the crop to the thresher I rode a horse around carrying gallon jugs like they show in pictures around a still. All the men, no women were in the field they had other things to do, would take a drink from a jug. For the workers near the thresher I would walk and carry a pail and a dipper and all would use the dipper. I really like the fun conversation with the sweaty, hard working farmers. They in fun did give me a hard time :) wanting to know how a City Boy got on a horse and was working on a farm. They were great with me. Not the least enjoyable part of threshing was the food. The women cooked up a banquet of a great variety of scrumptious food and we all ate till we were stuffed. The daily banquets were astonishing. Looking back I think the woman worked at least as hard as the men. Even though this was hard, dirty sweaty work the food and the attitudes of everyone there helped make the days not only bearable, but enjoyable. The thresher would go from farm to farm so this lasted several days. Without the mutual cooperation the task would have been impossible. As you may have noticed this was before the combine became the harvester of choice. As I got older and more experienced I had to give up being Water Boy and actually worked!!!
Most days were routine. Up in the morning, do the chores, do the work of the day, do the chores again in the evening eat listen to the radio and go to sleep. In other words just like the job that it was.
First thing in the morning most every day it was my task to bring the cows, and horses if they were needed, to the barn. Often it was 'child's play' as they were already up near the barn. Other times they were far away but willing to go where they were supposed to. There were times when they, cows and or horses, had other things in mind. Then it was a difficult task. I needed a herd dog. I normally milked 3-5 cows a day. Normally the the morning milking was just routine and not a bad way to start my day. I got to look forward to the evening milking. We actually worked and were always tired, but while milking the cows I could put my head against a cow and almost sleep. One that I milked had two bad habits that I had to look out for. Every time she would wait till I was sitting down to milk and then would decide to pee. I have to get up out of the way. She was sneaky fast and if I was not careful would put her foot in the bucket and spoil the milk. This was no small problem as the milk was a significant contributor to the farm income. Every time after the milking the buckets of milk would be carried to the house basement. In the basement was a Separator, a machine where the operator would turn a large crank and spin a bowl so that the cream would be separated from the milk. It was a long time before I got that job as the cranking had to be done at a constant predetermined speed in order to get the cream just right. The selling price of the cream was determined by the cleanliness and a testing score. Isabel would take the cream she needed and the rest would be tested, measured and sold. Most of the milk was fed to the hogs.
When needed, part of the cream that was retained was poured into a Mason jar and the jar was shaken until Lo and Behold we had the butter needed for our meals. When I first saw the procedure I thought they were kidding, but it was true. I had always heard of a butter churn but this worked just fine. I even earned the honor of doing that job at times, but usually it was Isabel.
About halfway through the summers I spent there electricity arrived courtesy of the Rural Electrification Association (REA). A refrigerator and electric lights were soon installed. For some reason an electric pump was never attached to the well to furnish water to the house.
I remember the Jones family who lived in Van Wert. Well at least I remember a couple of things about the eleven children, They were good athletes and I remember about their names. all eleven children had a name starting with "W". Maybe there was an exception to that pattern as one was called Worth but his name was Ellsworth. To me that counts. I have never personally knows another family that named their children with that kind of pattern.
As one might expect they had a fairly large garden for growing vegetables. It supplied most of the fresh veggies used during the summer. A large project was canning. Many jars of vegetables and fruit would be canned in Mason jars for use during the winter. The filled jars were kept in the Cave.
On several occasions I would be awakened during the night because of a tornado warning. Then off to the Cave. Once we were caught in Van Wert when a tornado hit the general area.
Neal had two horses, Toots and Nance. When Horse Power was needed for working or pulling a wagon they were hooked up as a team. I quickly learned to do that. When transportation was needed just for me Toots was the
one I rode. The saddle was heavy to put on and I
learned the hard way it was best that it was on so that
it did not slip around. I was fortunate that it
slipped while getting on rather than when I was riding.
When we were living on the County Line I would ride
Toots down to the other farm and pump water for the
Hereford beef cattle. It was pumped into a circular tank
that in my memory was a large as a small backyard pool.
It took a lot of pumping!. Also when down on that
farm I would take a machete and cut down thistle bushes,
Hot work on these summer days. While riding Toots I had at least two adventures, She was fitted with a special bridle using bailing wire to keep her from getting the bit firmly between her teeth. The problem was she liked to hold the bit there as then she was in charge. I was not near strong enough to then control her when she did that. One time when we got close to getting back home she took off at full gallop bit between her teeth. When it came time to turn into the driveway she made a sharp right turn and I kept going straight sailing through the air. The barn doors were double doors, a top and bottom door. Once she took me into the barn with the top door closed. I was glad I had room to duck under the top door. She was a wonderful horse to ride. She had a gate that Neal said was "single-foot" and it was so smooth that it felt like there was no up and down motion at all. As you just heard she also had a fast gallop. If she felt contrary she also had a very bumpy trot that could almost shake the fillings from my teeth. She did not use it very much, than goodness. Was she taking advantage of a poor city boy?
I did learn to harness the pair, hook them up to whatever piece of equipment and drive the team working the fields. I remember an important lesson Neal taught me early. When doing things like cultivating the corn fields, they did that back then, mowing hay, raking hay with a sulky rake and the like I tended to over control the team. I gave them too many instructions with the reins and that did not make for smooth working. Neal emphasized to me that the team knew a lot more about how to do the job than I did and to let them work, only directing them when needed. I was truly amazed at how much easier that made getting the work done. I hear the same idea works on flying an airplane, over control can be dangerous in many areas of our lives.
While talking about driving a team, one very dangerous incident happened. This could have been a serious injury or fatal experience. Luck and hopefully calm nerves and good driving prevailed. By this time I was an experienced horse person. Neal hired the fields plowed by a tractor. After the tractor did its job the fields were rough and had to be smoothed. We hooked the team up to a harrow. The harrow consisted of multiple sections bolted together. The sections were maybe 8' by 8' each consisting of a heavy metal frame with multiple perhaps 8" spikes that went into the ground and smoothed the earth as it passed over. I drove the team while standing on the harrow going along for the ride. This contraption was very heavy and about 24' wide and 8' deep. I do not know the exact size. I had to be very careful when turning at the end of the field with this ungainly contraption. One time a corner of the harrow got caught and the team started to panic or at least changed their pace and in the blink of an eye the whole thing rose up in the air balancing where it caught on the ground and flipped over. I managed to get off before the disaster and the horses were also spared. I was working alone in the field. Neal said he had seen this before where the harrow came down on the team with fatal and serious injury to the team and even the driver. Fortunately no damage was done. I unhooked the team brought them back to the barn and reported the misfortune. We had to dismantle and reconstruct the harrow. I did finish the job later with additional respect for the possible dangers. Perhaps I was a better team driver afterwards.
Twice while we went to help with a barn fire in the area. All I remember is the overwhelming heat even from afar. I was considered too young and or too inexperienced to help. And that was true.
Neal and I frequently took the couple mile drive to town, Van Wert. We frequently went to the pool hall and listened to the local news/gossip being broadcast by the several men always there. I enjoyed that and learned a lot of names and local 'facts' such as they were. We always went to the General Store that had everything and bought what was needed. The cream was taken to be inspected, tested and sold. At least I presume we did as I do not remember anyone coming to the house to pick up the cream even though thinking about it that would have been logical. Once during the summer I would actually get my hair cut. That was not as nice as the pool hall but the news/gossip was just as free flowing. I have never liked to go to a barber. I have to be careful how I word and spell barber as my grandmother was a Barbour by birth.
At some point Neal and Isabel bought a house for the 80 acre farm and had it moved to the farm. This was a project that could have used John Bunion. It was a very hot summer. One of my jobs was to go along the very narrow country road that was the route to the farm and remove the brush, small trees and branches that narrowed the right of way to allow enough room for the house to be able to pass through. Cutting through that mess in the 90+ heat with my machete was hard, hot, dirty work. One good thing though it was work where I could see afterwards what I did. The basement was dug by professionals . How to get the house situated over the basement? The solution was to have many railroad ties brought in. They were carried into the hole and piled up the seven feet or so to support the house on its way across the hole. Do you have any idea how heavy a railroad tie is? I know I could not lift one by myself and there was many many to move and set in place. Strangely after all was said and done the ties had to be removed and sent back. That was harder than placing them as space was cramped. Lots of hard work for all, lots of satisfaction for the accomplishment.
Three times in my life I have been attacked and stung by a swarm of bees. Once in Wadsworth, Ohio and twice on the farm. Strange that all three times I inadvertently did something to cause the attack.
At times we visited the Webb family who lived in Woodburn, Iowa. Until recently I did not realize that Mrs. Webb and Neal were brother and sister. I was probably told that, but if I was it did not register. There were four sisters. One summer Jean Webb, about a year older than I, was also at the farm for most of the time I was there. We were early teens. It was nice having someone my age with us. Well there was one thing I futilely objected to. Jean and one of her sisters on at least two occasions decided to wash my hair. Did you hear me screaming from where you live? They were none to gentle and they just loved the experience. Jean and I are still in touch and the hair washing does come up now and then in our conversations.
One summer was barn building time. Neal had the foundation poured by professionals. Almost all the rest of the barn was built by Neal, me and another boy about the same teen age as was I. While I did a lot of barn building,
my main task that summer was to
do almost all of the farming. I was truly a farmer
that year. The other boy had no farming
experience. I now have no idea who he was. I
believe that was my last summer on the farm.This is a picture, many years later, of Alan in front of the weathered barn. >>>>>>
While reading a newspaper on the farm I learned about the dropping of the first atomic bomb.
Neal used to comment on how could I do so well in my school classes and yet know so little about life as he knew it. The comments were deserved and lightly made. I did learn what he thought I should learn and am glad. I experienced and learned things that I may never have had another chance to do.
My parents came out for a short visit one summer. I do not remember my brother ever being there.
Years after the last time I stayed at the farm I heard the details of the death of their son, Neal Sink, Jr. Neal wanted him born in the hospital in Osceola with a well respected doctor in attendance. Isabel insisted on having the child at home with a local doctor. During his birth the cord got wrapped round his throat and the baby died of strangulation before he ever had a chance. The marriage survived this experience. Unknown to me the baby was buried in the Van Wert Cemetery. Many years later Kathleen, Jean and I walked through the cemetery an I spotted the grave. Of course Jean had led us there. After hearing all the news/gossip in the pool hall, barber shop and visits I recognized almost all the names in the cemetery. I cannot say that about any other even in Wadsworth where I lived almost 50 years.
Years later Neal continued to live on the farm but made his living working as a tax assessor, for the telephone company and government farm subsidies.
Kathleen and I were back a few times after we were married. Alan and Susan also visited the farm. We went back to see Isabel in the hospital when she was dying. I was told she would never know I was there, but when she saw or heard me be she actually raised up and said hello. She died a couple days later. A few years later Neal had a severe stroke. He lost most use of one side of his body. We visited him once. He could not get words out to talk but could swear like a trooper. It was sad to see the articulate Neal unable to speak. He had been a good story teller. He refused to leave the farm or to accept help and eventually died outside during the winter.
On the way to reporting to the army at Fort Sill, Oklahoma I stopped at the farm for a day to say hello and Isabel had baked a cherry pie for me. She knew I liked pie and was always thoughtful.
This is my tale of Richard as an Iowa Farm Boy, a time for me to remember. I just liked being there being a part of the farming family and the community. I was taught my second life well. When I got out of line I was nudged back in place. One very early example. There was a hen that was friendly and would let you pet her. I tied a piece of string to one leg so I could recognize her. When it was seen I was given a stern lecture on what would happen as the leg got thicker. That error was not repeated. I feel the time spent there was good for both me and for my summer family. I made my share of mistakes and had my share of victories. I am sure there are many more things I could mention but at least for now this is all.