Michigan family shares a fraction of their collection of metal tractor seats that lines the walls of their home and business.
Welcome to the Barry residence. Pick a favorite seat, but please don’t sit on the walls. “We have seats on the kitchen wall, in the bedrooms, in my sons’ rooms and scattered on the basement floor,” says metal tractor seat collector Robert Barry of Carleton, Michigan.
Robert points out that the home he and his wife, Emily, share with their three sons never lacks for a place to land, but seating remains limited because most of the saddle-like surfaces they own are collectibles that line the home’s walls, living spaces and even their bedrooms — balanced here and there because there are just so many of them that the seats themselves are lost for places to rest.
What’s in a name?
Robert and Emily own a diverse range of seats. Many are marked with the manufacturer’s name. Once a key component of hay rakes, manure spreaders, cultivators and horse-drawn plows, the seats are sometimes identified in owner’s manuals or old articles.
“Most of the time, I can find articles about what I have,” Robert says. “Some of the rare ones don’t have names on them, and starting out, looking for a seat that doesn’t have a name on it, is a 50-50 draw.”
Robert’s first seat had a name on it — Buckeye — and that provided him with a starting point for research. “The name is usually stamped on a seat really proudly because everybody had to get their name out there,” he says. “It’s the same with cars and farm implements. They usually put it right where the farmer would be looking every day as he got on the seat. He’d know exactly what it is.”
Joining up for a good cause
Robert has gathered about 200 seats in the 10 years he’s been collecting. It started with a tractor on a fence line. “I saw a cast iron seat on a tractor, and I had to have it,” he says. “It’s interesting, in that I ended up getting the whole tractor. I bought it and saved the seat. That’s just how happy I was to have saved the seat. I took it off the tractor and hung it on the wall.”
From there, Robert began hunting for seats throughout southeastern Michigan. He came to realize that there were still rare implement seats to be had, especially at auctions. And then he discovered the seat clubs. “My first encounter with a seat club was at an auction in Michigan,” he recalls. “I had no idea what a seat club was, but a lady named Charolette Traxler (a long-time member of the Cast Iron Seat Club) from Minnesota said that I ought to join a seat club.”
Enrolling his family in the Cast Iron Seat Club and related organizations led him to become acquainted with other implement seat enthusiasts and the tools of the hobby, such as auction sale bills, online auctions and, rather importantly, his trusty vehicle and the open road.
“We’ll drive several hours one-way for one seat,” he says. “It’s a family thing. Our youngest son went to his first seat meet when he was three weeks old. I actually have a picture of him lying in a seat – that was in Ohio. We’ve been all over the U.S.”
The hobby has taken the Barry family places they might not otherwise have visited. “We went to Iowa for a seat meet, and we went to Dyersville to the Field of Dreams and the Ertle toy tractor museum,” he says. “The farthest I ever drove for seats was to West Virginia.”
“Your heart is beating so crazy”
The Barrys approach auctions by the, uh, seat of their pants. They first peruse the sale bill, hoping that the piece they like the most survives the early rounds of bidding and doesn’t become too expensive for their budget. “It’s so much fun,” Robert says. “You never really know what you’re going to find when you go to an auction, and then you see something that gets your heart pumping. And when it comes up on the block, your heart is beating so crazy. You know you’re nervous, because it’s one you’re going to keep forever.”
Like the one sitting on a dresser at his house. One of just two of its type known to exist, the seat turned up on an auction an hour from his home. “I bought it for about $60, and it’s probably worth quite a bit more than that now,” he says. “It’s one of my most rewarding seat finds.”
Attending gatherings of implement seat collectors (also known as seat meets) has allowed the Barrys to further explore their passion for the unique collectibles that once served as nothing more than a place to plant oneself while planting crops. In the process, they’ve made new friends, including Tom Wilson, president of the Cast Iron Seat Club.
“When I started this hobby, I knew absolutely nothing about it, and I’d only read about Tom,” Robert says. “Now, if I have any questions about a seat, I can call him. He spends the night at our house if he’s passing through Michigan. It’s become more of a friendship than a club connection.”
Emily notes that seat club friends “are family,” and Robert agrees. “There’s nothing like going to a seat meet to see friends,” he says. “Seat club members are the most friendly people. As we travel the seat club circuit, we now have friends from the whole U.S. and Canada. We’ve won a few (contest) ribbons at the meets, too.”
Seat club participation has been a joy for Robert and Emily — and their kids. While Robert generally leaves most of his seats in their original patina, the boys are eager participants in seat-painting contests at seat meets. Even if there’s no hands-on activity at an auction or seat meet, the boys are eager to set off on a road trip if there are cast iron seats involved.
Metal tractor seats hobby spreads
A mechanic by trade, Robert spends his days working at his dad’s automotive repair shop. Even there he is surrounded by seats, as his collection spills over from his home to a wall in the shop. The century-old seats make a display that garners customers’ attention as they await repairs.
“I have probably 100 seats on display on the wall in our shop, and customers come in and go crazy,” Robert says. “They just can’t believe how different the seats are.” And that leads to new connections.
“You never know where a friendship will start,” Robert says. “When they see my seats in the shop, some people will bring one from home for us to add to the wall. People are starting to reach out to me for information. I try to help everybody I can. I want to get as many people involved as I can. We have to get more people interested in this hobby, or it’s going to fade away.”
Making room for a collection of metal tractor seats
The Barrys are happy living their lives surrounded by cast iron seats. The seats are both a remnant of America’s agricultural tradition and a reminder of treasured family adventures. When he views the seats in his home, Robert says, “It’s like looking at a memory.”
Still, the house is bursting at the seams. “We’re running out of room and have seats scattered on the basement floor,” he says. He’s already making plans. “Eventually we’ll just have to add another room or something,” he says. “Most of our rare seats are hung up. As another one comes in, one of the others comes down.”
Sometimes he thinks about the need to trim the collection to a more manageable size. “But we’re not at that point yet,” he says, reconsidering. “We just enjoy collecting.” FC
For more information: Contact Robert Barry at (734) 271-2026.
Gretchen Mensink Lovejoy is a freelance journalist keeping small town news alive in southeastern Minnesota. She lives in Spring Valley, Minnesota, with her husband, two dogs and three cats, and enjoys classic car and antique tractor shows.
