Looking Back


Early Thoughts on the Threshing Machine

Sam MooreThe first threshing machine wasn’t produced in this country but in the British Isles when a Scotsman, Andrew Meikle, improved upon a semi-successful thresher built by an English farmer named Leckie. Meikle used a rotary cylinder with beaters around the circumference, as well as powered feed rollers to carry the grain into the cylinder and, eventually, a cleaning fan to blow away dirt and chaff. Meikle’s machine, which was patented in 1788, wasn’t portable, however, and was built into a barn and powered by a water wheel or a horsepower.

Arthur Young, an English agricultural writer wrote in 1808, warning the farmer to keep a sharp eye on the men doing his threshing (with a flail and winnowing basket). He wrote: He may lose immensely if his straw be not threshed clean; and as it is work generally performed by measure, the men are too apt to turn it over too quickly, and thresh out only that (grain) which comes the easiest from the ear. In respect to pilfering, the work gives them great opportunities so he should have a sharp lookout, and take care now and then to meet the men of an evening in their home, and to come upon them in the barn at various times and unawares. Such conduct will keep the men honest, if they are already, and will prevent many knaves from practicing their roguery. According to this, British yeomen must have been an untrustworthy lot.

Young then described the advantages of the new threshing machines: If the farmer has one of these most useful implements, he is safe from such dirty work and dishonesty. The expense of a fixed mill is from sixty to one hundred guineas [the guinea was 1 pound, 1 shilling, or 21 shillings, but it’s beyond my ability to translate that into today’s money]. It will thresh about fifteen quarters [a quarter is eight bushels] of wheat in eight or nine hours, and from fifteen to twenty quarters of barley, oats, peas, or beans. Barley is the hardest to thresh with a machine, but I have seen several that do it well, such as Mr. Asbey’s at Blyborough, Suffolk. His price for a fixed machine, 75 guineas, and for a moveable one, 120 guineas. The granary should always be located over the fixed mill that the grain may be drawn up at once, and lodged safe under the farmer’s key.

A European thresher

While this is a much later thresher than Andrew Meikle’s, it is an early 19th century horse-powered machine from Europe, probably French. (Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

Straw was commonly used as cattle feed in Great Britain and Young alluded to this: For feeding cattle, fresh-threshed straw is better than old; for litter they are equal; but it is best for eating straw to cut it into chaff by the power of the threshing mill and to have the chaffhouse adjoining so it can be immediately stored. This house should have brick walls, so that fermentation does not set fire to anything, and then if water be thrown on the chaff, it ferments and is much more nutritious than when used in the common way. Mr. Young seems to have known a bit about silage.

Threshing was something of an all winter job in those days. Young wrote: The threshers must be kept constantly at work throughout this month [December], that the cattle feeding on the straw may have a regular supply. Many farmers who keep large stocks of lean or dry cattle thresh their worst straw first and the best last throughout the winter, that every change of straw may be for the better. This cannot fail of having good effects on the cattle, who often fall away on a change of straw that is for the worse. The wheat should be threshed first as it makes the worst fodder; next the oats, then the barley, and lastly, the barley or oats that had much clover mown with them; for in wet seasons, the clover grows so high that the straw is almost as good as hay.

Arthur Young finished up his article with: A threshing-machine is an object of such importance to every [grain] farmer that no intelligent one will be without it.

It always interests me to read these old accounts of how farming was back in “the good old days.”

– Sam Moore

The Honest Old Farmer

Sam MooreDuring the last half of the 19th century, most folks looked upon the railroads as having plenty of money, and many of them figured out ways to get some of it for themselves, as did the Yankee farmer in the following story.

A horny-handed old farmer entered the offices of one of the railroad companies, and inquired for the man who settled for hosses which was killed by locomotives. They referred him to the company’s counsel, whom, having found, he thus addressed:

“Mister, I was driving home one evening last week –”

“Been drinking?” questioned the lawyer.

“Why, I’m center pole of the local Tent of Rechabites,” said the farmer. [The Independent Order of Rechabites was a Christian group dedicated to promoting total abstinence from alcohol]

“That doesn’t answer my question,” replied the lawyer; “I saw a man who was drunk vote for the prohibition ticket last year.”

“Hadn’t tasted liquor since the big flood of 1846,” said the old man.

“Go ahead.”

“I will, ’Squire. And when I came to the crossing of your line – it was pretty dark, and – zip! along came your train, no bells rung, no whistles tooted, contrary to the statutes in such cases made and provided, and – whoop! Away went my off-hoss over the telegraph wires.  When I had dug myself out’n a swamp some distance off and pacified the other critter, I found that off-hoss was dead, nothing valuable about him but his shoes, which mout have brought, say, a penny for old iron. Well –”

“Well, you want pay for that ’ere off-hoss?” said the lawyer, with a scarcely repressed sneer.

“I should, you see.” Replied the farmer, frankly; “And I don’t care about going to law about it, though possibly I’d get a verdict, for juries out in our town is mostly made up of farmers, and they help each other as a matter of principle in these cases of stock killed by railroads.”

“And this ’ere off-hoss,” said the counsel, mockingly, “was well bred, wasn’t he? He was rising four years, as he had been several seasons past. And you had been offered $500 for him the day he was killed, but wouldn’t take it because you were going to win all the prizes in the next race with him?  Oh, I’ve heard of that off-horse before.”

“I guess there’s a mistake somewhere,” said the old farmer, with an air of surprise; “my hoss was got by old man Butt’s roan-pacing hoss, Pride of Lemont, out’n a wall-eyed no account mare of my own, and, now that he’s dead, I may say that he was twenty-nine next grass. Trot? Why, that’s the first time that old nag trotted since we plowed up a nest of hornets two-three years ago! Five hundred dollars!  Bless your soul; do you think I’m a fool? It is true I was made an offer for him the last time I was in town, and, for the man looked kinder simple, and you know how it is yourself with hoss trading, I asked the cuss mor’n the animal might have been worth. I asked him forty dollars, but I’d have taken thirty.”

“Forty?” gasped the lawyer; “forty?”

“Yes,” replied the farmer, meekly and apologetically; “it kinder looks a big sum, I know, for an old hoss; but that ’ere off-hoss could pull a mighty good load, considering. Then I was kinder shook up, and the pole of my wagon was busted, and I had to get the harness fixed, and there’s my loss of time, and all that counts. Say fifty dollars, and it’s about square.”

The lawyer whispered softly to himself, “Well, I’ll be hanged!” and filled out a check for fifty dollars.

“Sir,” said he, shaking the old man’s hand, “you are the first honest man I have met in the course of a legal experience of twenty-three years; the first farmer whose dead horse was worth less than a thousand dollars, and wasn’t a trained champion trotter. Here, also, is a free pass for yourself and your male heirs in a direct line for three generations; and if you have a young boy to spare we will teach him telegraphing, and find him steady and lucrative employment.”

The honest old farmer took the check, and departed, smiting his brawny leg with his horny hand in triumph as he did so, with the remark –

“I knew I’d ketch him on the honest tack! Last hoss I had killed I swore was a trotter, and all I got was thirty dollars and interest. By gum, honesty is the best policy!”

– Sam Moore

Old farmer

The Old Farmer. [Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons]

Distaste for Rail Travel

Sam MooreThe coming of the railroads during the early 19th century is credited by most historians with facilitating the Industrial Revolution and with opening up the far reaches of this country. At the time, however, not everyone was enthusiastic about the new mode of travel. The following account was written in his diary by Samuel Breck (1771-1862), a wealthy Philadelphian.

July 22, 1835 – This morning at nine o’clock I took passage in a railroad car from Boston for Providence. Five or six cars were attached to the loco and uglier boxes I do not wish to travel in. The carriages were made to stow away some thirty human beings, who sit cheek by jowl as best they can. Two fellows, not much in the habit of making their toilet, squeezed me into a corner, while the hot sun drew from them a villainous compound of smells made up of salt fish, tar and molasses. By and by twelve bouncing factory girls, who were on a pleasure party to Newport, boarded. “Make room for the ladies!” bawled the superintendent. “Come gentlemen, jump up on top; plenty of room there.” Some of the “gentlemen” were afraid of a low bridge knocking them off, while others had other excuses. For my part, I told him that since I had been in the militia I had lost my gallantry and didn’t move. All twelve finally were, however, settled and made themselves at home, sucking lemons and chattering away.

The rich and poor, the educated and ignorant, the polite and vulgar, all herd together in this modern improvement in travelling, and a democratic familiarity tends to level all social distinctions. Master and servant sleep head to toe, feed at the same table, sit in each other’s laps, as it were, in the cars; and all this for the sake of doing very uncomfortably in two days what could be done delightfully in eight or ten. Instead of this toilsome fashion of hurrying, hurrying, how much better to start on a journey with our own horses, and moving slowly, surely and profitably through the country, enjoying its beauty and stopping at good inns.

Steam, so useful in many respects, interferes with the comfort of travelling, destroys every distinction in society, and overturns the once rational, gentlemanly and safe mode of travel.

And talk of ladies in a railway car! There are none. I never feel like a gentleman there, nor can I see a semblance of gentility in anyone who makes up part of the travelling mob. When I see women who in their drawing rooms I respect and treat with every suitable deference – when I see them elbowing their way through a crowd of dirty emigrants or low-bred homespun fellows in breeches in our country, in order to reach a table spread for a hundred or more, I lose sight of their pretensions to gentility and view them as belonging to the plebian herd. To restore herself to her caste, let a lady move in select company at five miles an hour and take her meals in comfort at a good inn, where she may dine decently.

Shares certificate
This share certificate is for the Boston and Providence Railroad on which Samuel Breck probably rode in the summer of 1835. [Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons]

Sam Breck was undoubtedly a snob, and apparently much taken with his own exalted position in the social hierarchy of the day.

He elaborates on his distaste for rail travel in a later diary entry dated Dec. 31, 1839.

The modern fashion in all things is “to go ahead,” push on, keep moving, and the faster the better – never mind comfort or security or pleasure. Dash away and annihilate space by springing at a single jump, as it were, from town to town.

“How do you mean to travel?” asks someone. “By railroad to be sure, which is the only way now and if one could stop when one wanted, and weren’t locked up in a box with fifty or sixty tobacco chewers; and ashes from the engine did not burn holes in one’s clothes; and the springs and hinges didn’t make such a racket; and the smell of the smoke, of the oil and of the chimney did not poison one; and if one could see the country, and were not in danger of being blown sky high or knocked off the rails it would be the perfect way of travelling.”  After all, the old-fashioned way of five or six miles an hour, with one’s own horses and carriage, with liberty to dine decently at in a good inn and be master of one’s movements, with the delight of seeing the country and getting along rationally, is the mode to which I cling, and which will be adopted again by future generations.

Ah, if Mr. Breck could only have foreseen the present century, when several hundred people are crammed into a narrow aluminum cylinder and fed a handful of peanuts, while they travel more than 500mph while flying 35,000 feet above the earth’s surface, all so they can breakfast in New York City and dine in San Francisco that evening.

“What’s this here world coming to?”

– Sam Moore

The Turkeys' Holidays

Sam MooreWhere do you get your turkey for your family’s big Thanksgiving or Christmas feast? “Why,” you reply, “From the super-market, of course.” And you’re right – as of Sept. 28, 2018, some 240 million turkeys had been raised during the year to feed the American obsession with having a large turkey, perfectly roasted to a beautiful golden brown, resplendent on a platter in the center of each holiday dinner table.

Today, Turkeys are raised in long, low buildings that are ventilated in the summer and heated in the winter. The ration fed the birds is carefully calculated and measured to assure maximum weight gain and everything is kept as sanitary as possible. It usually takes from 19 to 21 weeks to bring the birds from chicks to market weight, at which time they are trucked to a processing plant where they are turned into the attractive packages you find in the meat cases at your favorite grocery store.

But, go back 150 years or so – say the Christmas of 1865 – and what do we see?

The War Between the States had ended just seven or eight months ago at Appomattox, Virginia, when the commander of the Confederate forces, General Robert E. Lee, surrendered to the Union Army Commander, General U.S. Grant. The five long years of that terrible conflict, America’s bloodiest war ever, had cost this country 620,000 dead, wounded and missing.

However, and this is pure speculation on my part, despite the empty chairs at many a holiday table, or the empty sleeves and pant legs that could be seen everywhere, Americans were undoubtedly happy peace had returned at last and were ready to celebrate that Christmas of 1865. Especially in the northern states, where there had been few battles and little devastation, although I’d imagine that even in the defeated South, with their long traditions of festive Christmas celebrations, folks did the best they could.

Turkey shoppers
Turkey shoppers at a market in 1865.

No statistics exist telling us how many turkeys were raised in 1865 or eaten for holiday dinners, but the two woodcuts accompanying this story tell us that the tasty birds were in demand even back then. The pictures appeared in the January 1866 issue of the American Agriculturist, a monthly magazine published in New York City beginning in 1842. There is no explanation with the illustrations except for the caption, “The Turkeys’ Holidays.”

One of the two pictures shows well-dressed city dwellers crowding into a market to choose and purchase their turkey from rows of naked birds hanging by their feet from strings of garland. There are some live birds in a crate that appear to be geese instead of turkeys, as some folks preferred goose for Christmas dinner.

The other illustration is the more interesting of the two and shows how turkey farming was carried on in those far-off days. The turkeys, which are unprotected by any kind of building, and apparently are left to feed on whatever they can find in the woods, have flown into trees to roost on this moonlit night. Several men have climbed a ladder and crawled out onto the tree limbs to knock down the birds. Other boys and men chase down the turkeys and carry them to a shed in the background.

The shed is being tended by a man and a woman, who would have wrung the neck of each bird before dunking it in a large tub of boiling water to scald the feathers. The carcass was then plucked and hung up by the legs over a tub to bleed out before being hauled off to the market. A method of harvesting turkeys that was a little more haphazard than that of today.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all Farm Collector readers!

– Sam Moore

Man chasing turkey
Catching and processing turkeys, circa 1865. Both illustrations are from the January 1866 issue of American Agriculturist magazine in the author’s collection.

Stories of a Gaar-Scott Salesman

Sam MooreIn a 1951 letter to Iron Men Album magazine, Mr. E.C. Foreman of Tacoma, Ohio, recounted some stories of his many years as a salesman for Gaar-Scott Co. of Richmond, Indiana, builders of steam traction engines and threshing machines.

Mr. Foreman wrote [in part]: “My mind still reverts to the grand old days when running machinery powered by the old steamers and the selling [that] machinery for many years. Many of the instances come to my memory as though yesterday. Many of these sales were just luck, sudden and remarkable. A few I will relate.

“Some years ago when I traveled by rail I boarded a train and a gentleman shared his seat. Some way I took him to be a thresherman and soon found out he was, and from West Virginia, and on his way to Columbus, Ohio, to look for a thresher. On arrival at Columbus I asked him to look over our line which he did and bought a rig.

“Another time on a train I had a catalog and a young fellow spied it and asked for it to send to his father who was a thresherman. This resulted later in the sale of two machines, one to his father and one to an uncle. Both machines were shipped on the same car.

“Once a postal card came to the office wanting a catalog at once. The office considered this a 'hot prospect' and sent me at once. It was 50 miles away and when I reached the town depot I inquired of the station agent the way to the man’s farm. He said, '1 mile out, but if you are a machine agent I can save you a trip because it was just a 10-year-old boy writing for catalogs and three other agents had already gone out.’ To make sure I asked a man loading lumber nearby who gave me the same information, but he stated that his boss was in the market for a new engine.

“When I reached the mill I saw immediately that all the old engine needed was new rings and the valve set. The owner insisted the engine was no good and never had been and he would buy a new 16hp and said he would throw the old engine in if we paid the freight and delivered the new one to the mill.

“Upon delivery of the new one, we pulled the old one out to a nearby barn, put in new rings and set the valve and the engine run like new. We expected to load it at another station some 8 miles away. While moving the engine on the road a man saw us and asked us if we would help him out grinding feed as his engine was entirely gone. I consented to help him out and he was so taken with the engine that he bought it for cash and later he bought a new thresher.

1884 Gaar-Scott engine

An 1884 Gaar-Scott 10hp engine that was owned by William G. Roberts of Somerset, Virginia, when I snapped this photo at the National Threshers Reunion at Wauseon, Ohio, in 2009.

“Another time I was driving an open car when a storm came up and a farmer yelled at me to drive into his wagon shed. I had some catalogs on the seat and he said, ‘Let me have a catalog, we’re going to buy a thresher and have sent for catalogs from a couple of firms.’ His son then said, ‘Father, that is the same make of machine that did our threshing last season and it did a fine job, no cut straw, chaff or dirt and green straw stack as a year previous.’ The farmer said, ‘Come to the house and get your dinner and we’ll consult the wife.’ The wife said, ‘We’ve thought of an auto but it wouldn’t help buy a thresher, but a thresher might help buy an auto later.’ That order was quick work.

“Years ago I was held up in a town by a late train. The station agent found I was peddling threshing machinery and said, "Mike, a fellow up the road, was here sending a telegram for repairs for a very old make of engine and a reply came just a few minutes ago, ‘no repairs available.’ I walked up to see Mike and some two weeks later a rebuilt traction engine found a new home for cash on delivery at railroad station.

“Once I heard of a sawmill operator through a school boy whom I gave a ride to his school. I walked down to his mill through the mud and he said, ‘Apparently mud doesn't bother you.’ I said, ‘No, it doesn’t and I hear you’re interested in a thresher.’ He said he was and that a very dignified machine agent drove out a few days ago in a shiny livery rig and wanted him to come out to the road as he did not want to wade through the mud down to his mill. He told the fellow to wait an hour and he would see him at the mill men's shack. The agent waited there but was so afraid of getting his clothes soiled from the mud and greasy clothes of the mill men that the mill owner told him he wasn’t interested in his line.

The mill owner said, ‘I see you don’t carry your vest and coat pockets full of pearl pens and pencils as the fellow who saw me the other day.’ I replied, ‘One pencil is enough if you’re ready to buy.’ He told me to leave him a catalog and see him Saturday evening at home which I did and the result was a new thresher sold.

Author’s note: In 1946 a Methodist minister and steam engine enthusiast named Elmer Ritzman from central Pennsylvania began publishing a quarterly magazine called the Farm Album. The Farm Album became the bimonthly Iron Men Album in 1950, a name that reflected Rev. Ritzman’s desire tell of old-time farm machinery, culture, and the “Iron Men” who ran that machinery and worked those farms.

Early History of Fordson Tractors

Sam MooreOne hundred and one years ago, on Oct. 8, 1917, the first of 739,977 Fordson tractors that were to be built there over the next 10 years rolled off the assembly line at the Henry Ford and Son company plant on Brady Street in Dearborn, Michigan. Due to Great Britain’s critical need for tractors to increase food production to ease the threat of starvation caused by the German U-boat blockade during the First World War, the first several thousand of these were sent to the British Ministry of Munitions (MOM) for distribution to farmers. Most of these were without the cast-in Fordson logo on the radiator top tank and were known in England as “MOM” tractors.

After domestic sales began in June of 1918, American farmers, hungry for a lightweight, inexpensive tractor, flocked to Ford dealers to buy Fordsons, with 34,167 being made during the rest of 1918.

Some Fordson owners cursed their new purchases, but many others were quite satisfied with their tractors – one wag said the machines “could do everything except milk a cow, climb a tree, or make love to the hired girl.” A Mississippi farmer wrote to Henry Ford in 1927 and said the Fordson “defeated all competition in that region and would do anything any sensible man or fool wanted done.”

A few Fordson owners even took pen in hand to write a few lines of poetry praising the little Fordson. One of these gems was:
The Fordson on the farm arose before the dawn at four.
It drove the cows and washed the clothes and finished every chore.
Then forth it went into the fields just at the break of day
It reaped and threshed the golden yield and hauled it all away.

Another:
I’ve worked mules and horses on the farm, and yoke of oxen too;
But a Fordson tractor beats them all by forcing farm work through.
It seldom balks, or kicks or squeals and never succumbs to heat.
I tell you now my farmer friend the Fordson’s hard to beat.

And one more:
Come here old mule, I’ve news for you! Here’s a Fordson
It’s come to make our lives anew. Here’s a Fordson
It’s come to change our work to play; it’s come to turn our night to day,
Oh yes old mule it’s come to stay for it’s a Fordson.

Bad poetry, no doubt, but it seems to have illustrated the genuine affection many farmers felt toward their Fordson tractors.

Fordson Farming cover
The cover of a 1921 Fordson booklet in the author’s collection.

Reynold M. Wik tells us in his 1972 book, Henry Ford and Grass Roots America, that “in 1910 there were only 1,000 tractors, 50,000 autos, and no trucks among the farm families in the United States; in 1920 there were 246,000 tractors, 2,146,000 automobiles, and 139,000 trucks.” Henry Ford had a big hand in this increase, with his mass-produced, and as a result, cheaper to make and sell cars, trucks and tractors.

By 1928 however, increased competition, especially from IH with their versatile Farmall line, plus the demands of designing and manufacturing an entirely new car, the famous Model A Ford, had caused Ford to withdraw from the U.S. tractor scene. The basic Fordson design that was introduced in 1917, although with some improvements, continued to be cranked out in quantity at British Ford Motor Company plants in Cork, Ireland, and Dagenham, England, until after World War II when the much more modern Fordson Model E27 was introduced, and even it featured the same engine and transmission as the old models.

In spite of its early success, Fordson tractors get little respect from today’s antique tractor collectors.

– Sam Moore

Frontier Life and the Good Old Days

Sam MooreSeveral months ago, I retold several stories about oxen and heel flies that had been written by John A. Hart in a 1909 book titled History of Pioneer Days in Texas and Oklahoma. Hart was born in Madison County, Kentucky, in 1850 and his mother died when he was two years old leaving John and a two-week old brother. The boys went to live with grandparents in Indiana, and the whole family moved to Texas about 1855.

Mr. Hart gives us an interesting glimpse of frontier life in those long ago days.

“When traveling to church some folks would walk from one to three miles, while others rode horseback and a great many went in ox wagons. The men were generally armed with guns or pistols, a shot pouch and powder horn. In the pouch would be a bar of lead, bullet molds and a rag for patching, and if caps were used, a box of caps, or if a flint lock, several flints. While at church the guns were stacked outside, but the revolvers were never taken off.

“Everyone wore homemade clothing, even shoes and hats, and I have seen some buckskin leather breeches and coats. Some had caps of deer skin with the hair side out. No one ever thought of charging a stranger or traveler for lodging – it was an insult to offer to pay for a night's lodging; stock hunters could travel all over Texas and never be out one cent.

“A trip to the mill was sometimes done with an ox cart or a yoke of oxen to a four-wheeled wagon and corn piled into the cart or wagon for four or five families. A wedding was generally public with everybody invited and everybody went and a grand charivari followed.

“It was the custom to have a grand time at Christmas and if people were to celebrate Christmas now as they did then they would be considered regular outlaws and all be arrested. [I wish Mr. Hart had described those wild festivities.]

“Rope hobbles, bridle reins, clothes lines, and bed cords were nearly all made out of raw hide, although some hair rope was made by cutting off the bush of cattle's tails and twisting the strands into a rope. People were considered quality when they could have a pair of hair bridle reins. Sometimes a hair rope was stretched around the bed when they camped out to keep snakes and tarantulas away as they will not cross a hair rope.

Family outside of a log cabin

Home sweet home on the frontier. (Courtesy Wikimedia Commons.)

“People always wanted to know when it was going to rain or when the sun or moon would rise and set, and they would pay ten cents for an almanac. I remember when matches sold for ten cents for a box which contained twenty five matches. Only travelers or freighters could afford to use them and matches were not used only in extreme cases. Many times I have walked a mile to borrow fire. Everybody kept a piece of punk and a flint rock to strike fire and by placing the flint on the punk and striking it with a pocket knife, the spark produced would light the punk and you’d have fire Sometimes we would take raw cotton, place it on a skillet lid and sprinkle [gun] powder over it and then take a case knife and strike the lid [to make a spark] knock fire out of the lid and catch the powder and we had fire.

“Three or four families would own a sorghum mill with the rollers made of live oak and the cogs were all wood. The owners of the mill helped each other in making sorghum. We didn’t know sorghum by that name then, it was just plain molasses. A single horse or steer turned the mill and it usually took a driver to keep a steer moving. Each person would make from one to three barrels of molasses. When molasses making was over the youngsters had a candy pulling and everyone would take part.

“Wheat was cut with a cradle by hand and a good cradler could cut about two acres a day. A good binder could keep up with a cradler but generally an acre and a half was a day's work. In case of sickness or distress every person showed a willing hand; if any one got behind with his wheat cutting or anything else, all turned out to help.

“Squirrel and cat hides were dressed by the boys and girls for shoe strings and leather raw hide was used to cover saddles, while sheep skins were used for saddle blankets. Sumac leaves and black jack bark were used in tanning leather. The leaves were gathered while green and the bark was peeled off while the sap was up. These could then be stored away and used any time of the year. The sumac leaves were used for shoe uppers leather and the bark for sole leather. When the hide was ready to tan, the leaves or bark was boiled and the hide to be tanned was placed in a trough. The boiling pulp was placed between the folds of the hide and the liquor poured over it repeatedly for three or four weeks.

“No one thought of going in debt and they paid cash or its equivalent or did without. If anyone would have offered to take a mortgage, the people would not have known what it meant. Borrowing and loaning things, however, was very common; everybody's oxen and wagon or anything else was to loan if anyone wanted to borrow it. Whenever anyone looked for their stock they looked for their neighbor's stock at the same time.”

The good old days?

– Sam Moore







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