Summer of Farming
Farming Experience
It was the summer of 1946. Dad had arranged for the two of us to get some experience working on a NJ farm for several weeks.
For some time Jock had been expressing a keen interest in farming. He talked a lot about becoming a farmer once he grew up. He even began wearing farm clothing, (bibbed bluejeans, a baseball cap and a red bandana). He also collected wooden farm animals, a barn with a silo, and a number of lead farm toys.
We were told we would be living with Leonard Vliet and his wife and would spend each day with Leonard taking care of various farms in the Princeton area. The Vliets had no children. Leonard was still managing our family’s 200 acre farm purchased a few years earlier.
Our jobs sounded like a huge responsibility. We had never before worked at any job, much less this kind of hard labor. This time we would be living away from home. Several weeks seemed like forever. To me, Dad’s idea seemed scary and certainly wasn’t going to be fun.
In due course, Jock and I boarded a train bound for New Jersey, northeast of our comfortable Virginia home. I was terribly anxious and unsure of myself. Jock, on the other hand, pretended to be his “cool” self.
Mr. Vliet met us at the train station in his pick-up truck. We got off the train with our bulging suitcases. Held tightly under my arm was my old, white teddy bear. Already I was experiencing heavy tinges of homesickness.
Personal Tractor
After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast of Cheerios, bacon and eggs, buttered raisin toast, and lots of fresh milk, by 6 o’clock Mr. Vliet, Jock, and I headed for our first day of work in our new world. We three drove several miles where Mr. Vliet housed most of his heavy equipment, including five tractors. Most appeared huge as they stood side by side facing us as the barn doors opened. Surprisingly, Jock and I were asked by Mr. Vliet to select two tractors to be driven by us. Neither of us knew how to start, much less drive a tractor. We admitted our ignorance to Mr. Vliet who just smiled and continued talking about the day’s work.
Before the morning was over, Jock and I were already driving our tractors in fits and starts around the barnyard. We were shown how to climb aboard, crank up the engines, and practice driving our 25-30-horsepower behemoths forward and backwards at varying speeds. Jock was ecstatic as he maneuvered his early 1940 grey Ford (Ferguson) N-series tractor with red wheels around the barnyard easily. With great temerity I, in turn, climbed up and onto my choice of tractor, a humongous, red, 1939 IH - Farmall. As I sat more than four feet off the ground between two gigantic rear tires, I felt a surge of power within. The tractor had a tall “exhaust stack” in front, and its two smaller front tires were spaced close together. The engine growled beautifully as she warmed up. With my short young legs I had trouble reaching the brake pedal without getting down off the tractor’s seat. However, the throttle was within easy reach. One of Mr. Vliet’s hired hands, a recent Polish immigrant named “Kadurk,” had just arrived from Europe during the war. Over time he taught both of us how to operate our tractors. Late that afternoon, Mr. Vliet gave Jock a map with detailed instructions indicating where both of us were to drive our tractors. Once there, we were to hitch up two trailers loaded with bales of hay, and then return them where we were.
Jock on our tractor at the farm. Probably summer of 1945.
Our new Polish friend followed behind in a pick-up. Before long, like ducklings, we had driven across and out of the fields, down a long dirt road, and finally onto a paved state highway, all of us in line on the far right lane of the highway. As cars drove by I noted with considerable pride that I was sitting higher than the car rooftops. Interestingly, at that time young farm hands were permitted to drive farm machinery on public roads and highways. It was a thrill each time I drove the Farmall back and forth on the highways, day in and day out. People in cars and trucks waved at me, sometimes honking horns as they sped by.
Baling Hay
Having driven some 1,000 yards down the highway, we turned into newly-cut fields and through the gates where two trailers fully loaded with hay bales awaited. By helping one another, and with assistance from our new “teacher,” we managed to align the tractors in front of the trailers. We hitched up and returned down the road. The trailer loads were massive and appeared top-heavy. Our tractors were powerful and unrelenting as they managed to tow the trailers where Mr. Vliet had been waiting. What a memorable day . Jock and I had an early dinner and dropped into bed for a heavy night’s sleep.
Once familiar with our tractors, Jock and I found ourselves working with different farm crews at separate locations around the countryside. During the haying process, baling hooks were used extensively. These implements were dangerous and, if used improperly, could slash a leg or an arm. We were both taught how to extract newly-bound bales from the moving baling equipment. They had to be dragged, lifted and stacked at the far end of the trailer. Extracting and then stacking 30 +/- lb. bales of hay using baling hooks was brutal work for 10 and 12 year olds.. To stack bales five high required help from a farm hand working with us.
At lunchtime, all the farmhands, including Jock and me, would gather together at the edge of a shady copse typically located in the middle of a field. It was a time for many of us to get to know one another. It was time to light up smokes and to pop a cool beer. Aaahhh. It was during those special moments we listened to the professional farm hands sharing their fascinating yarns. It wasn’t long before I became aware of the meaning of “subsistence living.”
Sickle-bar Mowing
Jock and I were never permitted to operate a tractor using a sickle-bar. The consequences were too great. It was near impossible to see what was in the standing grasses as a cutting tractor approached. Farm dogs running about were always at great risk. Regularly, field bird chicks, including pheasants, families of skunks and rabbits, even hiding fawns were mutilated or destroyed accidently during the cutting of thousands of acres of fields. Bloody incidents seemed to occur every day during hay cutting.
Close Call
On one occasion, while backing my Farmall down a long incline into a large barn, I suddenly realized its metal door was closed. As I sought to stop the tractor, I found I couldn’t reach its brake pedal. Still operating in low reverse gear, the Farmall continued to inch backwards down the incline towards the massive barn door. Unable to stop the tractor, I panicked and called for help. By chance, Jock was nearby and, fortunately, responded promptly. He saw my problem, ran to where I was, and jumped aboard my tractor. Once in position he was able to apply the brakes. Fortunately, the Farmall came to a stop only a foot or so short of the barn door. The destruction of a large, brand new, aluminum barn door had been averted.
For me, our four-week stay working with Leonard Vliet and his extraordinary farm hands was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. My life was becoming a rush.
Tony’s 1939 Farmall Model H Tractor (photo source)
