9. The Threshing Reunion ... THE FARM IN PINE VILLAGE

On Labor Day Weekend each year, Joe drove the family the hundred miles to Pontiac, Illinois, to attend the Central States Threshermen’s Reunion. The event featured around fifty steam engines, half a dozen OilPulls, and several big prairie tractors. Every day, a steam engine was belted to a thresher for a demonstration of steam-powered threshing. As the threshing ring to which Joe had belonged had only recently disintegrated, Robert was familiar with threshing machines. His parents had photographed him standing beside the Nichols & Shepard Red River Special the last year that Joe had threshed with his friend Don Akers. Then Joe had bought his first combine, an Allis–Chalmers, which replaced the threshing machine. Had the family not attended the Pontiac show each year, Robert might not have been acquainted with the steam engines that originally supplied the power to the threshers that separated the wheat and other small grain from the stalks on which the grain had grown. Joe’s mother’s brother, Uncle Charley, who had died in 1931, had taught Joe how to run farm steam engines, which Charley had run professionally. Joe loved to see the steam engines at work again—if only for a weekend in Pontiac. Robert and Charles looked forward to the annual trip to the threshing reunion.

The family scurried around before dawn to get ready to go. Ida packed a picnic lunch of tomato soup, which was kept warm in thermos bottles. She wrapped a big block of cheddar cheese with a sharp knife to make cheese sandwiches. Other bottles held milk and coffee. A loaf of bread and a freshly baked apple pie were carefully deposited in the basket. Finally, a red blanket was folded and placed on top of the basket in the trunk of the car. Cookies, as well as other snacks, were arranged beside Ida where she could monitor them.

When Robert was five, the family was scurrying around before dawn on a Sunday. Usually, the family made the trek to Pontiac on a Saturday, but, in that year, Joe had chosen Sunday so that he would not miss an important Masonic meeting on Saturday. The week before, Joe had ensured a safe trip by having Glen Bisel put plenty of air in the spare tire. Glen also made sure that the coolant passages throughout the engine were not blocked. Even though Joe would not be sitting anywhere in stopped traffic—and even though his trip was not all that long—it paid to be sure that the radiator would not overheat. Many drivers carried a jug of water to refill a radiator whose heat (and, therefore, pressure) increased beyond the pounds of resistance from the cap. Cars with clouds of steam streaming out from a raised hood were common sights along roadways. The drivers of such vehicles were forced to wait until the car cooled down before refilling the radiator.

In those days, people dressed up to attend any fair. Accordingly, Joe wore a pair of pleated slacks, a starched and ironed short-sleeved shirt having a pattern of light green fish, and a wide-brimmed straw fedora hat. Ida wore a full skirt with a green and blue floral print and a light blue blouse. The boys put on their best tan shorts and new shirts with horizontal red-white-and-blue stripes. When everyone was ready to go, the sun had not yet awakened.

“Are all the animals fed?” Ida asked Joe.

“Yes,” he replied. “I gave the cows enough feed to hold them until we get home.”

Joe and Ida had not bothered to lock the doors to the house. In those times, no one in the town had a reason to lock a door.

“You did shut off the light in the kitchen, didn’t you?” Ida asked Joe.

“Yes,” he answered, “and I made sure the light was off in the boys’ room.”

The car pulled out of the driveway and headed west.

For the first many miles, Robert was too excited to nap, but, after a while, he felt drowsy. His head nodded, and he leaned into a corner of the front seat. He remembered hearing Ida asking Joe “Are you sure we will make it there?” and Joe replying “We have a good spare.”

The next thing Robert knew, the car was parked along a road in the middle of Illinois and Joe was using a jack to lift the flat tire off the ground. The sun had arisen. Charles and Ida were standing behind Joe and watching. After Joe had changed the tire and everyone was back in the car, Ida said, “I hope the spare will get us there—and back. There won’t be any place open to work on a tire on Sunday.”

“Glen looked at the spare and said its patches were good,” Joe reassured Ida.

On went the car. Just outside Chatsworth, an all-too-familiar bumping sound began. Joe looked grim.

“What will we do now?” Ida asked.

“Somebody in Chatsworth will be able to fix a tire,” Joe said.

The car limped into town. Joe stopped at a closed service station. A couple walking to a nearby church noticed the flat.

“Bill can get you back on the road,” the man said to Joe. “He’ll be at church.”

The couple went into the church, and, soon enough, another man came out and introduced himself as Bill.

He opened the door to the service station. Before long, he had patched both tires. When Joe took out his wallet to pay Bill, Bill waved his hand and said, “You folks just go and have a good time at the reunion.”

Joe pulled into the parking area of the Pontiac 4-H fair at 11:00, giving an hour to look around before the noon whistle. Ida said she wanted to see the crafts on display at the ladies’ building while Joe and the boys walked along the line of engines. Joe and Ida agreed to meet at the car for the picnic lunch at 12:00.

Robert, Charles, and Joe strode beneath the tall trees that shaded the park. As they neared the engines, smoke scented with cylinder oil drifted among the sun-dappled leaves. Robert was a little ahead of Joe and Charles. He wandered behind an engine and watched as a woman put a shovelful of coal in the firebox. She was wearing a plaid blouse and jeans. An engineer’s cap was perched jauntily on the back of her head. She turned around, saw Robert dawdling there, and asked him, “Do you like steam engines?”

Robert was delighted that such a great person as a steam engineer would take notice of him. “Y-yes,” he stammered.

Joe and Charles stepped up.

“Does he belong to you?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Joe replied. “His name is Robert, and this is Charles. I’m Joe Rhode.”

“I’m Doris Lindenmier, and this”—she pointed a gloved hand toward the engineer on the platform of the engine next to hers—“is my husband, Lester.” Pulling the glove from his right hand, Lester reached down from the platform of his engine to shake hands with Joe.

“I’m pleased to meet you both,” Joe said. “We’ve been coming to Pontiac every year for several years, and I’ve always enjoyed seeing your engines. My uncle was the engineer for a Reeves outfit in the teens and twenties.”

Doris nodded smartly. “They’re good engines!” she said.

Both Doris and Lester ran Reeves engines, which were parked beside one another under the trees. Lazy billows of smoke rose from their stylishly shaped smokestacks. An RN, Doris had the additional responsibility of serving as the reunion’s nurse.

Robert felt a growing fascination for farm steam engines—a fascination that would last throughout his life.

Doris, Lester, and Joe talked briefly about Joe’s uncle’s experiences on various threshing runs, and then Joe said, “I suppose we should be moseying on.”

Doris and Lester waved as Joe, Charles, and Robert walked farther down the line of steam engines. They crossed an open area, and Robert was amazed at how quietly a steam engine could come up behind them so that Joe had to take the boys’ hands and move to one side, allowing the engine to pass. “Chuff, chuff, chuff,” the engine sounded, as if it were breathing.

Just before the noon whistle, Joe brought the boys back to the car. Ida had already spread the red blanket on the soft grass in the shade of the tree beside the Chevrolet. Soon, everyone was eating lunch.

Robert did not care for tomato soup, but, on such a special occasion as getting to go to the steam engine show, he could tolerate it without complaint. He liked the cheese sandwich, and he especially liked the apple pie!

The boys laughed and covered their ears with their hands when the noon whistle took place. From the area where the steam engines were parked, the madcap whistles shrieked and tooted in deafening abandon.

Later that afternoon, Joe and the boys watched as steam threshing was demonstrated. “Rumble, rumble,” the thresher sounded, as its numerous pulleys and belts came to life. Men with pitchforks stood atop two wagons piled high with bundles of wheat. Alternating from one man to the other, their forks lifted sheaves and dropped them on the feeder with its conveyor belt that brought the bundles to the chomping knives and the spinning cylinder teeth, which knocked the grain loose. Eventually, the grain made its way through a loading tube into a wagon while the chaff and straw blew from a big tube in back onto a straw stack. The threshing machine received its power from a big belt that crossed over the flywheel of the steam engine and over the thresher’s main pulley. The two machines were separated some sixty feet. The crowd of onlookers was so large that Joe had to thread his way to the front so that Robert and Charles could get a clear view of the thresher in action. The nicely dressed members of the crowd smiled and politely made way for the boys to work their way forward.

When the threshing crew stopped so that the throng could go to the reviewing stands for the daily parade, Ida joined Joe and the boys, and they sat on the lowest bleacher. One of Robert’s favorite engines was a Keck–Gonnerman owned by Joe Weishaupt; it had Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse painted on the bunkers! Ida had spent her earliest years within a short walk of the Keck–Gonnerman steam engine factory, so she loved the Kecks exhibited in Pontiac. While Joe often stayed for the whole parade, on this occasion he said that the family might want to get an early start on the return trip to Indiana. When almost the last of the steam engines had rumbled past, Joe, Ida, Charles, and Robert left the stands and started toward the parking area.  

Joe must have had a premonition. On the way home, the thumping noise returned. Another flat! As before, Joe slowly changed the tire. Eventually, the Chevrolet pulled into the driveway and parked. There was still enough light to make it easy to milk the cows. The next day, Joe bought two new tires.     

My Father Said ... 3

On the 5th of July in 1937, my father, Joe Rhode, started to work for Standard Elevator Company as a clerk. In our conversation on the 28th of November in 1998, my father had a twinkle in his eye when he said—with a smile—“Once, when I was working at the elevator, Lee Rhode and Arby Brutus began to argue some point. They kept at it for over an hour. By about noon, they decided to go to their homes. They jumped in their trucks and took off. I had had difficulty working while the argument proceeded. It was so intriguing! I noticed that each combatant had taken the other’s truck. The trucks were nearly alike: a ’36 Chevy half-ton green pickup belonging to Arby and a ’34 Chevy half-ton green pickup belonging to Lee. Within a few minutes, both trucks returned, arriving at the same moment. Not saying a word to one another, the men switched trucks and drove off again.” While I did not know Lee, I did know Arby, and I am sure that, within a very short time, Lee and Arby were back on friendly terms. In my view, Arby could not have held a grudge.

One of Carter Dalton’s Homemade Model Steam Engines

Photograph on Page 12 of The Iron-Men Album Magazine

For July and August of 1956

Life in Pine Village, my hometown in Indiana, was usually serene. Occasionally, circumstances arose that called upon a person’s highest qualities. During a conversation on the 26th of November in 1998, my father said, “Carter Dalton and Jim Hooker were brothers-in-law; their wives were sisters with the last name of High. The wives were from Locust Grove. Carter’s wife died. He took it bad. Jim Hooker listened to Carter’s despondent remarks. Finally, Jim recommended that Carter [take up] a hobby. ‘You’ve always talked about how much you liked steam engines,’ Jim said, ‘so why don’t you build a model engine?’ Carter considered the idea. On another occasion, Jim repeated his idea. This time, Carter took the bait because he had no hobbies and felt he would enjoy trying to build a working model of a steam engine. He then built the Case model. [He] misfigured the boiler size by modeling the diameter when he should have used the circumference of the cylindrical part of the boiler; thus his boiler looked too thin. He [also] made a double Nichols & Shepard rear-mounted model.”

Wood Carving Attributed to Jim Hooker of Pine Village, Indiana

I well remember both models. While the Case provided plenty of fun because it was large and easy to drive around, the Nichols & Shepard was a thing of beauty! As I am not mechanically minded, I stand in awe of the work of machinists who can engineer a working scale model of a farm steam engine! I considered Carter Dalton an artist in metal, just as Jim was an artist in wood.

Jim’s barn was filled with carvings, many of which were lost when the barn burned to the ground. Cinders from the barn blew east across town. Volunteers came to our home several blocks away to ensure that the roofs of our house and barn were not harboring live sparks. Not too many years ago, I found in an antique mall a carving of oxen pulling a wagon. While there is no identification on the piece, I am confident that it is one of Jim’s earliest carvings that I used to see in his barn. Perhaps he gave it to someone. I immediately purchased the antique, as I had always wanted an example of Jim’s work. Incidentally, many years earlier, Jim “ran a Model T sales business from the first floor of the Pine Village Hotel,” as my father told me on the 18th of October in 1997. “He got one of the Model Ts out of the showroom as the fire was beginning, but the other Model T burned in the blaze, which destroyed the hotel.”

My Father Said ... 2

On the cool day following a warm Christmas in 1998, my father, Joseph “Joe” Rhode, entered the house after doing his chores, hung his heavy denim coat on the rack, made a cup of coffee, sat in his customary place at the kitchen table, and began reminiscing by saying Jake St. John owned a side-mounted Nichols & Shepard engine with which Jake ran a sawmill near the Pine Village Cemetery. Jake sold the sawmill to the Cranes, and they powered it with their undermounted Avery steam engine. The Cranes also used their engine on a threshing ring, or run, northwest of Pine Village, Indiana. In driving the engine to the ring, they passed in front of a farm owned by Joe’s grandfather Tom Cobb. In a conversation on December 27th two years earlier, my father said that, “at sundown,” Charlie Allen, Tom’s hired hand, gave permission to Herbert “Herb” Crane and his son Loyd, nicknamed “Jersey” or “Jers,” “to park their Avery steam engine and thresher” on Tom’s farm overnight, “as it was getting dark. Allen smelled a rat and wouldn’t allow the engine to be parked in the barn lot but made them park it farther back, where the ground sloped down to the north.”

Print of Avery Undermounted Steam Engine

In Collection Published in 1954 by Elmer Ritzman

Editor-in-Chief of The Iron-Men Album Magazine

“This might have been in 1928 or ’29,” my father continued, “but Charley Cobb would have moved the engine sooner, so this probably happened in 1930, for Charley died in 1931.” Charley was Tom’s son and was an expert steam engineer. “Charley might have permitted the engine to sit there for a year but not for longer.” Joe said, “ … despite frequent promises to move the engine, the Cranes left it there.” Charley moved it away during the winter after the fall when the engine had been abandoned. My father speculated that the Cranes knew there was something wrong with the engine—so wrong that they were no longer going to fire the boiler.

My father took the big clevis from the Avery as a souvenir. In the 1990s, he presented it to me for use on my Case steam engine. Someone borrowed it when I was exhibiting my engine at the Central States Threshermen’s Reunion in Pontiac, Illinois, and never returned it to me, I am sad to say. I wonder if the new owner of the clevis realizes that it once graced an Avery steam engine.

After disposing of the Avery by leaving it on Tom Cobb’s farm for Charley to collect the scrapping fees, the Cranes “bought a Case [crossmotor] tractor that Joe Williams had purchased to replace his Reeves engine.” Meanwhile, the Cranes moved the sawmill a short distance beside the newer east part of the cemetery. My father continued, “Joe Williams had used the Case tractor ten years, approximately. Joe had died … and Lizzie [his sister] sold the Case tractor to the Cranes.” During our conversation on the 18th of October in 1997, my father said, “Joe Williams had replaced his Reeves engine with an 18–32 Case crossmotor, and [he had] used it to thresh.”

I remember well Jersey’s son Lester, nicknamed “Let,” who worked in the lumber division of the elevator east of town. He was consistently in a good mood and exhibited a great sense of humor.