Legends of Pine Village, Indiana: Arba Brutus and His Pickup Baler

In 1929, the renowned photographer J. C. Allen, who often snapped pictures on the Arba Brutus property just east of Pine Village, Indiana, made a special trip to capture on film Arba’s recent invention. I told the story of that memorable occasion in my article entitled “The Steam Engine Collecting of Glen J. Brutus,” published in The Iron-Men Album Magazine, Volume 54, Number 3, for January and February of 2000.

Arba Brutus’ Pickup Baler in 1929

Photograph Courtesy J. C. Allen & Son, Inc.

“According to Purdue University,” Glen said, “my father [Arba] was the first man in the United States to successfully bale hay out of the windrow.”

Agricultural historians generally agree that Ray Moore McDonald developed the world’s first successful commercially produced pickup baler—the Ann Arbor baler—in 1929. As with most claims for “firsts” in history, there can be similar inventions in separate locations at virtually the same time. Brutus’ invention may well have predated McDonald’s, but the Ann Arbor baler went into factory production prior to Arba’s machine. More in a moment on how Arba’s pickup baler made its way to the market!

In the Allen photo, Don Gephart is on the baler, and John Cooper is on the tractor. (In 1955, the photograph was reproduced on page 142 of Farming Comes of Age: The Remarkable Photographs of J. C. Allen & Son, published by Farm Progress Companies and Harmony House.) The camera faced the southwest toward Pine Village from the road that today is designated as N 450 E. When my family moved in 1968 to a farm not far from the Brutus farm, I often drove past the field seen in the Allen image.  

Arba Brutus “took the baler to the hay instead of bringing the hay to the baler.” Arba placed a Model T Ford engine in the center of his new machine. “I went with my father to Indianapolis to have sprockets made for an over-running clutch,” Glen remembered.

In the 1930s, Glen met a representative of the Case Company of Racine, Wisconsin, who came to watch Arba’s invention. The Case man studied Arba’s machine carefully. If the Brutus baler worked as well as rumor had it, Case intended to put a similar implement on the market. Indeed, Case soon was marketing a pickup baler—and Glen was developing a fascination for Case equipment.

 “You had to be a good judge of the moisture content in the hay before you could bale hay straight from the windrow,” Glen commented. “That was a new thing to have to consider and learn.”

Be sure to see Pictures from the Farm: An Album of Family Farm Memories at http://wildindiana.com/a/j-c-allen-sons-more-than-just-farm-photos/. You can find Farming Comes of Age: The Remarkable Photographs of J. C. Allen & Son and Farming once Upon a Time: More Remarkable Photographs of J. C. Allen & Son on Amazon.

Photo courtesy J. C. Allen & Son, Inc., West Lafayette, Indiana 47906

Rustic Prints 5

This framed print of cows and a stream defines the word bucolic, a word with Greek roots meaning “cowherd” and “cow.” Bucolic has a synonym in pastoral, a word having multiple layers of significance relating to “pastors,” or “shepherds.” I suppose that one of my most important memories of growing up on a farm in Indiana is the peaceful sight of soft-eyed cows wading in sparkling creeks on sultry summer afternoons.

Framed Rustic Print of Cows and a Brook

That sight was repeated around every bend of a country road. When I was a youngster, most farms were far smaller than they are today, and they were diversified in old-fashioned ways that now seem quaint. By diversified, I mean that farms raised crops but a wider variety of crops than they now raise and that farms raised livestock—which many farms no longer raise. I recall fences. Lots and lots of fences. They were necessary to discourage cows and pigs and sheep from straying into the gravel roads. I recall hardwood trees amid the fences bordering the edges of fields; today, most of those trees have been removed to enable huge farm machines to till the soil as close to the edge of the roads as possible. I recall chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, and guinea hens, some of which did stray into the gravel roads. … but most cars and trucks traveled at slower speeds back then, and most drivers were more alert to the possibility of encountering chickens in the way.

Oh, such courteous and civilized drivers as there were in those days! Friendly drivers, who waved at you, and you waved back. Kind drivers, who left a respectful distance between their front bumpers and your back bumper. … but I digress.

When my family drove anywhere, our car passed several creeks, often ornamented with cows, which I have always considered especially sculptural. The bodies of cows are graceful, and their tranquil eyes can melt the hardest hearts.

A chore that I enjoyed was encouraging the dairy cows to come to the barn for milking in the evening. I think back to summer evenings steeped in a golden haze. I strode to the east of the barn along a curving dusty path that the cows had made. To both sides were meadow plants, which, in the heat of the day, had the fragrance of a rich tea. I found the Holsteins gathered in the shade of an oak. Chewing their cud and casually switching their tails at flies, they looked at me expectantly. Soon, the lead cow, who had assumed the dignified station of leading the rest, came toward the serpentine path on which I stood waiting. One by one, the other cows fell into line in an order that they recognized among themselves. I brought up the rear. As the cows and I walked back toward the barn, I gazed ahead. The black-and-white hips of the cows gently swayed from side to side, and I heard the muffled beat of hooves in the thin dust. When the parade reached its destination, my father guided the pets into their stalls, and the milking began. I used the word pets just now because my father treated his dairy cows as pets, and they were as coddled and affectionate as dogs.

Accordingly, whenever I see this rustic print, all such reminiscences—and more—flow back to me. No wonder I appreciate such illustrations from earlier eras!

Rustic Prints 4

To the back of this rustic print my father, Joseph Rhode, taped a quotation he typed on a slip of paper and illustrated with colored pencils: “I tell you that the great cities rest upon these broad and fertile prairies. Burn down your cities and leave our farms, and your cities will spring up again as if by magic. But destroy our farms and the grass will grow in the streets of every city in the country.” The words are those of William Jennings Bryan, a populist who lost his bids for President of the United States three times. My generation remembers Bryan as a character in the movie (and play) Inherit the Wind (1960). The quotation that my father chose as a caption for the rural scene is from Bryan’s famous “Cross of Gold” speech.

Farm Horses and Wagon in Green Frame

The print depicts a team of horses pulling a wagon along a road beside a river in spectacular scenery reminiscent of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The young couple in front of the house and stone wall includes the man wearing the straw hat while driving the team and the woman feeding the chickens while drying the laundry. The trees are as fluffy as the clouds of the prismatic day. A lilac bush is in full bloom. The illustration exudes peace, contentment, and love.

My father “Joe” loved farming with horses, all of them spoiled pets. When he was a boy, he happily harnessed Togo and Maud on his grandfather’s farm. Later, when he had a farm of his own, my father proudly drove Queen and Babe. Shire horses assisted many of his farming tasks until about the time my brother was born. At that time, he felt that he must modernize by using gasoline tractors exclusively, and he reluctantly sold his last horses. It must have broken his heart to do so.

Togo, Maud, and Joseph C. Rhode in April 1930

Photo by Mrs. Allen

When my father passed away at a ripe old age, I discovered in his desk drawers numerous pamphlets, brochures, and books on horses. Joe grew up with the family tradition of Dan Patch, arguably the first sports celebrity in the U.S. (His mother’s uncle invented a shoe that helped the young sulky horse become a champion and go on to fame and fortune.) I have the impression that my father liked horses even more than he liked dogs, and he always had a loving dog around!

Queen, Babe, and Joseph C. Rhode in March 1942

Whenever I look upon this rustic print, I think of my father and of my upbringing on his farm. It was in the flat lands of Indiana, not the mountains, but the farm held charms that I distinctly remember to this day. Often, I return to the farm in my dreams.