I was not by any measure a high school scholar. More important things occupied my time than figuring out an algebra equation or a confusing chemistry experiment.
My classmate Keith and I had the good fortune to sit in the back of many classes, and the distance from the teacher freed us to talk about farming. His family had a small Guernsey herd, while mine milked Holsteins.
We debated the worth of both breeds. He defended his herd by touting Guernsey’s higher butterfat content while I said Holsteins produce more milk and Holstein steers can be fattened while feeding a Guernsey steer was a waste of time.
I changed my opinion when a neighbor asked if I could help with milking and chores while their son was away. They were well into their 50s when they made a big investment in a state-of-the-art milking parlor and slatted floor building in the 1970s.
The building hadn’t yet been finished, so cows were milked in two stanchion barns, with the Surge buckets moved from one barn to the next with a two-wheeled cart. The couple talked with me about their big investment, which they hoped would help the farm’s long-term survival.
It saddens me in no small measure when I drive past their home place and see that the dairy herd is gone. The same can be said for the Holsteins on my family’s farm.
Our house, barn and outbuildings were sold in the 1980s and the new owner houses goats in the barn. Goats are an excellent option in these parts, with meat demand strong and particularly so among the ethnic minority population.
Goat sales are held each week at the nearby Zumbrota Livestock Association, with prices ranging from $265 for medium-sized goats.
I didn’t expect that our former barn would someday house goats or that the stave silo built in the 1960s would become an empty monument to farming’s past.
As a dairy, the barn had used up its functioning life. Dad laid the blame on prices that were too low for producers to make facility upgrades. Although he didn’t participate in the National Farmers Organization’s milk withholding action in March 1967. The withholding action lasted for 15 days.
The protest, which also was an attempt to raise the general public’s awareness of financial troubles on farms, ended when the federal government brought an anti-trust action against the NFO, and a court followed with a restraining order against the action.
Grocery store milk prices, which averaged 43 cents per gallon in 1967, were unaffected by the withholding action. The NFO continued its activism, with other withholding actions involving livestock.
The origin of farmer activism is found in the actions taken in North Dakota when grain growers united to act against the power of Minneapolis-based interests who conspired to hold down commodity prices while keeping shipping costs high. In Minnesota, the Farmer Labor party was founded for similar reasons.
Keith has moved on from his cows to raising work horses, which he shows at the county and state fair. The huge and beautiful animals garner attention from old-timers and youth.
There were many other sons of farmers in our class that numbered 100 students, but only a few remain connected to farming. It is not necessary to list the reasons why, but it has had a huge impact on rural institutions and businesses.
I recently visited with a retired former dairy farmer who farmed close by our former farmstead. Over breakfast in our shared hometown we talked about the way things used to be.
I didn’t know until he told me that my hometown of Le Center was once home to two creameries, several implement and car dealerships, and general stores. The decline seen on rural town main streets and institutions is way too common across farm country.
Historians and economists are left to record the reasons why.
Mychal Wilmes is the retired managing editor of Agri News. He lives in West Concord, Minnesota, with his wife, Kathy.