Following my unabashed stint of laziness last week, it is back to our discussion on Wisconsin's family farms of the 1930s. Of course, I do have a personal interest in this subject - all but one of my grandparents was closely affiliated with such a farm. My dad's side of the family is heavily rooted in production agriculture, and even my mother's family can be directly traced to farming. Although my mom lived and grew up in Milwaukee, her grandfather owned a significant creamery in Minnesota. As a chemist, he actually developed a butter culture that is used across the United States to this day, and even played a part in generating startup revenue for what eventually became the Land O' Lakes Corporation!
During the 1930s, the United States was highly involved in production agriculture. According to statistics provided by the USDA, in 1930, 21.5 percent of the workforce was employed in agriculture. So prevalent was production agriculture that a nationwide organization was founded in 1928 to coordinate and educate the 'Future Farmers of America.' Even a certain friend of mine named Jim, who grew up in the city of Madison, still relishes his childhood experiences on his uncle's farm.
Jim was born in December 1924 to a family of five brothers and one sister. He described himself as a "typical student", and then laughed - "I was just a little squirt; I only weighed 135 pounds when I graduated from high school!"
As a self-described typical student, Jim was involved with a model airplane club, and aside from the occasional hockey or softball game, did not play many sports. He got his farming background from his father, who grew up on a farm outside Madison with eight brothers. Thus, Jim can recall many summers during his childhood spent working on his uncle's farm:
"I worked summers on the farm bringing in hay, picking strawberries, harvesting oats, and shocking wheat. My dad grew up on the farm, but he of course eventually moved to town. Out of nine boys, he was the only one who [got out of farming]."
In fact, Jim's first job was helping out on his uncle's farm, which raised turkeys, had an apple orchard, a "couple acres of strawberries" and "no tractors". My friends, you may recall a few weeks back that I wrote an article about Ken, whose perpetual experience of picking beans had become something to laugh about in later years. With Jim, there always were strawberries to harvest: "We had a couple acres of strawberries, and I remember getting paid $.02 a quart for picking them. I'd work all day and would be lucky to get a dollar, but of course I would eat the first box I picked; every other strawberry went into my mouth!"
In the summertime, Jim was employed full-time at his uncle's farm and would make the daily drive on his brother's motorcycle, a 1934 Indian. It was this bike that got Jim to and from the farm every day, a distance of about four miles. For his labor, Jim was paid $1 per day, and out of this allowance he had to pay for transportation. Gasoline was not such a big deal - a dollar could buy 5 gallons in the 1930s, and the old Indian motorcycle was fairly easy on gas.
However productive the farm was, the Great Depression certainly hit Madison. During those years, Jim's dad worked for the WPA. While his father was at work, Jim recalls walking by Elmside Boulevard, to Oakridge. A lady lived there, and would give him a quart of milk to take home to help out. Holidays were meager during these years, with a goose being cooked for Thanksgiving, and very little for Christmas. I asked Jim what the family ate during winter, to which he immediately replied, "Potatoes! Dad had a garden in town, and got potatoes from the farm. We had a big bin of them in the basement and that's what we'd eat all winter. I also remember having sweet potatoes."
Aside from the farm, growing up in Madison presented its own unique memories - especially when comparing them to the hustle and bustle of today. Jim vividly remembers his first ride on a Madison street car, "I was seven or eight so it was a pretty big deal. We walked down [to the bus stop], and they'd pick us up. The buses were small; they only held 15 people. It took a nickel to go from the east side [of Madison] to the square, so that was nice." In summer, Jim fished at Tenney Park and caught sunfish, and swam in Lake Monona. On Friday and Saturday nights, McFarland would host an outdoor movie and carnival. During one such event, Jim remembers jumping onto the merry-go-round, not knowing he had to pay; the attendant chased him off.
For the most part though, Jim continued to work on the farm throughout the Depression. It was a four-mile journey out of Madison to the 120-acre farmstead, a trip Jim made many times on his brother's Indian. Eventually the farm was consumed by the inevitable sprawl of Madison, and all 120 acres were sold for $38,500. Jim's strawberry patch is now someone's sidewalk.
Jim graduated from high school in 1942 and began a town job. He worked for the Madison Kipp Corporation making die castings for mortar shells & fins. He helped produce the nose casting for 40 mm shells and the parts that went in. As he explained, "When the shell was shot it rotated, some weights turned and activated the firing pin. I worked on the assembly line."
By this time the war was on. I asked Jim, "Do you remember your folks talking about the war?"
He sat back, replying, "No. Dad never talked about it. He just lit up and smoked that pipe of his."
"I'll bet he smoked that pipe for 50 years."
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes
a weekly column for Friday editions of
the Times. He can be reached
at dwegs@tds.net.
During the 1930s, the United States was highly involved in production agriculture. According to statistics provided by the USDA, in 1930, 21.5 percent of the workforce was employed in agriculture. So prevalent was production agriculture that a nationwide organization was founded in 1928 to coordinate and educate the 'Future Farmers of America.' Even a certain friend of mine named Jim, who grew up in the city of Madison, still relishes his childhood experiences on his uncle's farm.
Jim was born in December 1924 to a family of five brothers and one sister. He described himself as a "typical student", and then laughed - "I was just a little squirt; I only weighed 135 pounds when I graduated from high school!"
As a self-described typical student, Jim was involved with a model airplane club, and aside from the occasional hockey or softball game, did not play many sports. He got his farming background from his father, who grew up on a farm outside Madison with eight brothers. Thus, Jim can recall many summers during his childhood spent working on his uncle's farm:
"I worked summers on the farm bringing in hay, picking strawberries, harvesting oats, and shocking wheat. My dad grew up on the farm, but he of course eventually moved to town. Out of nine boys, he was the only one who [got out of farming]."
In fact, Jim's first job was helping out on his uncle's farm, which raised turkeys, had an apple orchard, a "couple acres of strawberries" and "no tractors". My friends, you may recall a few weeks back that I wrote an article about Ken, whose perpetual experience of picking beans had become something to laugh about in later years. With Jim, there always were strawberries to harvest: "We had a couple acres of strawberries, and I remember getting paid $.02 a quart for picking them. I'd work all day and would be lucky to get a dollar, but of course I would eat the first box I picked; every other strawberry went into my mouth!"
In the summertime, Jim was employed full-time at his uncle's farm and would make the daily drive on his brother's motorcycle, a 1934 Indian. It was this bike that got Jim to and from the farm every day, a distance of about four miles. For his labor, Jim was paid $1 per day, and out of this allowance he had to pay for transportation. Gasoline was not such a big deal - a dollar could buy 5 gallons in the 1930s, and the old Indian motorcycle was fairly easy on gas.
However productive the farm was, the Great Depression certainly hit Madison. During those years, Jim's dad worked for the WPA. While his father was at work, Jim recalls walking by Elmside Boulevard, to Oakridge. A lady lived there, and would give him a quart of milk to take home to help out. Holidays were meager during these years, with a goose being cooked for Thanksgiving, and very little for Christmas. I asked Jim what the family ate during winter, to which he immediately replied, "Potatoes! Dad had a garden in town, and got potatoes from the farm. We had a big bin of them in the basement and that's what we'd eat all winter. I also remember having sweet potatoes."
Aside from the farm, growing up in Madison presented its own unique memories - especially when comparing them to the hustle and bustle of today. Jim vividly remembers his first ride on a Madison street car, "I was seven or eight so it was a pretty big deal. We walked down [to the bus stop], and they'd pick us up. The buses were small; they only held 15 people. It took a nickel to go from the east side [of Madison] to the square, so that was nice." In summer, Jim fished at Tenney Park and caught sunfish, and swam in Lake Monona. On Friday and Saturday nights, McFarland would host an outdoor movie and carnival. During one such event, Jim remembers jumping onto the merry-go-round, not knowing he had to pay; the attendant chased him off.
For the most part though, Jim continued to work on the farm throughout the Depression. It was a four-mile journey out of Madison to the 120-acre farmstead, a trip Jim made many times on his brother's Indian. Eventually the farm was consumed by the inevitable sprawl of Madison, and all 120 acres were sold for $38,500. Jim's strawberry patch is now someone's sidewalk.
Jim graduated from high school in 1942 and began a town job. He worked for the Madison Kipp Corporation making die castings for mortar shells & fins. He helped produce the nose casting for 40 mm shells and the parts that went in. As he explained, "When the shell was shot it rotated, some weights turned and activated the firing pin. I worked on the assembly line."
By this time the war was on. I asked Jim, "Do you remember your folks talking about the war?"
He sat back, replying, "No. Dad never talked about it. He just lit up and smoked that pipe of his."
"I'll bet he smoked that pipe for 50 years."
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes
a weekly column for Friday editions of
the Times. He can be reached
at dwegs@tds.net.
