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Mostly True Stories About Living on a Farm in the Early Years

Old farm stories are historical and humorous. So, I thought I’d share a little.

Another story that was told to me by a family that now lives on the Peninsula says. The new owners had a barn, part of a well-known farm, which they bought when the property was subdivided. They were in the process of cleaning a barn that had not been used for some time. Daisy, who inherited the farm in the early 1900s, still lives in the farmhouse. Grandma Daisy, as she was called, wandered around the house to see what the family was doing. He was old, as they say, but he had a strong voice. “Save the spiders!” He called Ken and Teri. He repeated it several times, and the family, thinking that Grandma Daisy had a problem with reality, promised to do so. However, he was surprised by how well he could handle and keep the small, black, eight-legged arachnids. Later, they found out that the “spiders” that Grandpa was talking about were “black metal grills that were originally made with short legs to stand between the coals of the fire” (Taken from Webster’s Dictionary) Ken said that neither he nor Terri found any spiders. from Daisy’s grandmother in the hall.

A resident of Old Mission Peninsula, Cal, had good news. I believe that he must have been cruel when he was a child. Stories follow. He remembers that he and Barry took Barry’s mother’s new white cloths, made parachutes, and jumped off the roof of Mr. Umlor’s barn. It seems that he was very impressed by an outdoor video he saw, possibly a military video showing pilots getting out of their planes. They thought it didn’t look too bad, if maybe a little dangerous. He’s here today, Cal says, because he landed in a pile of manure up to his armpit.

Another story Cal told me about growing up on a farm happened when he was young, about 10 years old. Some of his friends decided to remove the wagon and reattach it to the top of the Mapleton School, a one-room schoolhouse that still stands today. They worked hard for many hours. Descending from a very tall roof, they meet Cal’s father and the local sheriff. Because of all their excitement, they had to bring the cart back down, just like they were carrying it, and put it back together on the ground. Then he took it home!

This story begins in the 1900s. Although not much is known about some families in the early days, some good stories continue. It seems that Mr. Swaney died at the age of 56. In those days it was customary for several members of the family to “stay awake” with the deceased, that is to stay awake all night in the same room as the body. It being an unseasonably warm night, the window above the table where Mr. Swaney slept was opened. Around midnight, the men on guard began to shake and lean back in their seats. At that time, a neighbor’s goose decided to stick its neck through the window and make a terrible noise. It is said that in the mad rush to get out of their seats, all three men locked themselves in the door trying to get out of the room!

Another story about 1900 was told by Mr. Lyon. “Back in 1900, my grandfather Lyon came from Sweden to settle on the land, and of course, he farmed. He needed money that he didn’t have to pay for the land. Mr. Hannah, a local woodworker, lent him money to pay for it. So grandfather agreed to work. to Hannah’s father on a lumber farm, he went into town six days a week to work as a tenant on a 40-acre farm. It took him two years to help start the Rennie Oil Company in Traverse City!

A local newspaper in Traverse City reprinted an article in 1986 that was first published a century earlier. This story is about what happened on a farm in the Peninsula. I refer to a newspaper article. “Mr. Tompkins, the father of several farmers in the neighborhood, passing through Mr. Brinkman’s field, was attacked by a ram. He felled him and was much used. be serious.” According to one story, Mr. Brinkman put a ram in his orchard to protect the Tompkins family who Mr. Brinkman said were stealing plums as they traveled from their farm to the port in Haserot Beach, and were selling them to ships. who entered. Mr. Brinkman wanted to stop that.

The story about the arrival of the Wilber family on the Peninsula is a good one. Another kid wrote about it. “After a long and tiring journey we arrived at our destination. My father was going to be the manager of the Illini Orchards Company which had 100 acres of orchards. This was March 1918. Mr. Marshall (neighbor) told us that when we found our property. He told us that even though the house was empty, he cut down the maple trees near the house to make maple water, and we would find half of the water in the house. , which we could only throw away, after the goods were unloaded, father gathered fire in the stove to heat the house. He went to the wood and took an axe, he cut the wall and found a fire, the water in the house was not turned on, but we had those maple jars that we poured on the fire to prevent it from burning. This gave us time to open a rainwater cistern and collect water to complete the project.

Another good story happened on the farm of Marshall, a pioneer on the Old Mission Peninsula. One of Marshall’s sons who now owned the farm, married a beautiful school teacher named Grace, who later had two other husbands. Grace loved her garden so much that she always returned to the farm with her new husband. Grace did not want to leave the farm, but when her health began to fail, she was forced to move to a home in Traverse City. When he was about to die in 1986, he asked to be driven to the farm one last time to say goodbye, such was his connection to the beautiful place. Leaving no heir when he died, it was bought by the owner who did not choose to live on the property.

When the Chowns bought the farm in 1994 the land was in ruins. They have done an amazing job renovating the house and barn. After they moved into the house, and for several years afterward, strange things were happening in the house. This article is reported by Rebecca Chown. “Things in the house were moving around, strange noises were being made, and various lights and the stove were going on and off without any unusual weather, or anything else, as a result of the commotion. Old-timers on the Peninsula told us that the house was unusual. pride and the fact that many merchants in the Peninsula refused to enter the building to work. Although I am not a brave person, it was clear that the presence in this building was friendly, which only wanted to be seen. at home, the number of unusual events decreased.

One day when a neighbor’s father was testing a new metal detector at Chown’s, he found a gold wedding band buried in the gravel road. (Remember that Grace was married three times.) The gold band fit Rebecca’s finger perfectly, and after that there were no signs of the ghost. Mr. Chown likes to think that Grace is satisfied with them and can now rest in peace, as the love she had for the farm is reflected in the residents.

Frances Carroll McCaw recalled the happy days of her farm life on the Old Mission Peninsula. “In the 20th century, a long tower was built near the road from our farm. It was called the Grand View Observation Tower, but it was always known to the ‘people of color’ as the Frederick Tower. At the top of the tower was a pipe. Down to drop coins. lucky to go up the tower. gather on the tower. It became a hangout for young people. Under the tower there was a place to do things. For 5 cents you could buy pop, ice cream, or candy. Many people from the countryside came to climb the stairs. at the top of the tower. It was a place to hang out when we took cherries for a long day. I was a bad guy, and remember one time I went up on a platform and drank a coke and took two aspirins. They were supposed to get you drunk. But I waited…..and nothing happened. It didn’t work!”

I’ll end with a story, perhaps a myth, about life ‘in the country’ when the roads were mostly impassable so the first cars weren’t used that much, that hard. In the 20’s those who were ‘lucky’ to have a car found the mountainous terrain of the Peninsula made it difficult for these cars to travel. They were often forced to climb the mountain because they were too low, and the most powerful weapons were backwards!

In the spring the roads were muddy, in the summer, they were dusty, and in the winter, it was easy to put in a cage on the cement blocks. Like ‘he didn’t go in the snow’.

One day a proud driver was escorting a stranger to town on our winding road and heard an oncoming car shouting loudly, “Pig! The road was narrow and the oncoming driver was definitely taking up more than his share of the road. The angry driver shouted again “Pig! Pig!” and let the reckless jitney pass. Then he turned and ran into the biggest pig he had ever seen. Apparently this was the beginning, and the result, of road rage.

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