THE OLD FARMER AND "OLD BETSY" CONVERSE
"Old Betsy" Comes to Life
Living Again the Days of Long Ago Early-Day Threshing.
The Dakota Farmer way back in 1937 had this article which we thought you will enjoy. When we asked the Dakota Farmer for permission to use this article and we had promised to give credit, the Editor replied, "Credit or no credit use it if you wish." If you knew how persnipperty these editors are about the material they coddle as well as I do you would enjoy this refreshing statement as much as I. The Editor.
(This is part II)
Then, of a sudden, Old Betsy came to life. He could hear that soft even exhaust, smoke was rolling out her old stack, and she was rocking slightly back and forth like she always did when working hard. He could also hear the hum and rattle of the old separator. Looking back that way, who were all those men at work? Could that be Jerry with his big fork up in the straw pile; and there were Tom and Jim, and they were all old neighbors. How could that be? Some had been dead for years; others were sick or crippled. Why! Oh sure, they were young again; there they were with their sleeves rolled up joking and laughing as they worked.
One of the Olson boys was just driving away with a big wagonload of wheat tied up in bags. Old Man Johnson, with his long arms, was feeding the separator he had a peculiar way of shaking the bundles apart, but everyone said he was the best man in the neighborhood for that job; seldom was there ever a slug or growl of the cylinder when he was feeding.
Helmer Nelson with his Nichols & Shepara. Sam Lura is about to throw coal in the firebox. Courtesy of N. B. Nelson, Hawley, Minn.
Well! well! Back on the old rig again, something he had wished and longed for many a time. Now he could hear Charley, his tank man, urging the team across the field; that big tank full of water was almost too much for the old team on soft ground; next year the colts would be old enough to take their place. He glanced up at the sun, then looked at his old watch; it was 10 minutes to 12; reaching up, he pulled the whistle string one long shrill blast, closed the throttle, and the boys all went hurrying to dinner. He himself would stay with the rig, look everything over carefully, tighten any bolt that might have become loosened, look after the lacing of the belts and see that no fires got started; the fireman would bring his dinner out later on. Everything was the same as of old; there, leaning against the tender was the fireman's fork with the lower end of the handle burned black. He could hear the drip, drip of water as it leaked from the tank.
A very good picture of the Prony Brake as built by the Cook Machine Company of Washington, Illinois, and used at the Poutiac Reunion. Courtesy of Leo Clark, Photographer, of Washington, Illinois.
"Do You Remember, John?" Then Old Betsy spoke his name, "John". No, an engine can't talk but he could understand what she said: "Do you remember the time, many years ago, when you pulled this rig out from town?" "Yes, if I live to be a hundred years old, I'll never forget that day." What a nice cool day it was, with the bright red and green paint of the separator glistening in the sun, and the engine free from grease and dirt, with all parts bright and new.
The Engineers of the 1955 Pontiac Reunion. Certainly a wholesome Gang with which to associate. Courtesy of Leo Clark, Washington, Illinois. Leo was the official photographer at this Reunion. 8x10 photograph may be obtained from Mr. Clark at $1.00 each.
that road. Ben, a neighbor boy who was firing the engine with broken-up boxes and pieces of old railroad ties, wanted to know, "What would you do, John, if this thing should blow up?" I told him I didn't know, but very likely whatever it was, would be the last thing I would ever do. Charley. Ben's brother was driving the tank team along behind.
When we went by the Olson place, Mrs. Olson and the girls came out waving hands and dish towels; Mr. Olson and his two boys were back in the field stacking wheat. He didn't think much of shock threshing he said wheat had a much brighter color and would bring a better price after going through a sweat in a stack and by stacking his grain it gave him plenty of time to do his fall plowing.
When we got home, my mother came out saying, "I am wishing and praying that you have good luck with your new threshing machine, and I bet our horses are glad they will not have to work on the power this fall; but, Oh! Johnnie, you don't know how afraid I am of that old steamer. I'll not have a minute's peace while you are away threshing. Promise me,
Son, you will be very careful that nothing happens to you or any of the other boys."
(Continued next issue)