Thinking About Old Red Barns

  Even in old age my dad kept active with interesting things. One of his hobbies entailed driving around the countryside taking pictures of old buildings and pasting them into a scrapbook. I took it off the shelf recently and started paging through it to see where he pointed his camera. Pictures taken in small towns and farms located in his comfort zone fill the pages. Some of the sites have since disappeared but remain captured on these prints, including red barns. 

Large roofs on red barns have been neglected. Wind, hail, ice, and a hot sun all took their toll on them. The large square footage on the roof can be translated to dollars, a lot of dollars, therefore they were neglected. The roof became swaybacked, windows broke, rain and snow started rotting the studs, and in time the winds and snowloads started weighing them down. Every time one collapses, it marks a lamentable passage.

At one time when quarter and half-section farms were common, a person could look out and spot a number of barns in all shapes and sizes outlined on the horizon. Having the sensibilities of growing up on the small half-section farm, I am now aware of their passing.

Our barn featured sliding doors on both ends and was big enough for our little John Deere “B” to pass through. In cold weather that little tractor spent the nights in it staying warmed by the heat of the milk cows and then starting easily in the morning. At milking time our sixteen milk cows stood eating feed at their stanchions regularly relieving themselves into the gutters behind them. The gutters were always full or so it seemed, and the tractor could pull the spreader through the alley for us to load manure into the spreader.

Red paint was often chosen to cover the barns and outbuildings, and in the light of a sunny day a reminder of it can still be seen clinging to parts of the wood on a collapsed building. It must have been an old wives’ tale that declared red should be used so cows could find their way home. We know that wasn’t right because now cattle are known to be color blind. I guess the same caution no longer applies to wearing red around a bull. It just doesn’t matter to him what color you wear if he doesn’t like you.

They used the color red for an expedient reason, not a stylistic one. Red paint was cheap. Linseed oil worked as a sealant. Used alone it naturally turned to a red hue. Adding lime, milk, and the humble product of rust added to the redness. If some blood from a newly slaughtered animal was added to the mixture, it turned a darker burnt red that stood weathering. I’ve never forgotten the time when we, a custom combine crew, drove away from Lake City, Kansas. We passed a Case tractor pulling a three bottom plow that turned reddish soil to the sun. It possessed a high content of iron oxide. It was rusty.

Cupolas straddling the peak of a roof served a purpose of acting as a ventilator for moisture to escape, whether from the cows or their body wastes or from hay drying in the haymow. The knowledge of one other use exists in our family lore when my great-grandpa having knowledge of a possible raid on his still hid it in his barn’s cupola. My dad reminisced about a silver dollar he found as a boy by the barn at Nome and joked it could have dropped from the pocket of someone who came shopping for moonshine. We’ll never know. Maybe one day an archaeologist will dig in spots like that and find other treasures buried beneath the surface.

In so many ways the barn stood as a center of activity in a farmyard. Some of us remember cats at milking time sitting close and meow-begging a squirt of milk. Our barn also housed a team of horses, pens of pigs and sheep, and always a stray hen or two wandering through.

Dusty haymows were more than storage for hay. Through the winter as hay had been poked down to the cows, a young man could sweep the floor beneath a basketball hoop and shoot away.We hollowed out caves in loose hay or piled bales to create private little hide-a-ways. If we wondered where the cat hid her newborn litter, we could often find them tucked away up there. And how about those barn dances. I’ve been to a few in a haymow. Barns were important.

Moving Freight

 Without elaborating, the newspaper in Sheldon printed a simple statement in their first issue declaring, “Prairie schooners are passing westward almost everyday.” It’s fun to imagine those ox, mule, or horse drawn white canvas topped wagons moving across the tall grass prairie singly or with others. At the end of their journey they found places to settle and build farms and communities. Rails had only begun lacing the countryside, so  how did settlers come by the goods they needed? They depended on those freight hauling wagons drawn by oxen, mules, and horses  that brought them here in the first place. 

A great story came out of Bismarck on the Missouri River that illustrates the movement of freight to satisfy the wants and needs of settlers. Prior to the arrival of the Northern Pacific in 1873, a settlement had sprouted and residents wanted cooked food to fill their stomachs. Iron stoves could not be purchased. Those stoves were manufactured in Cleveland, Ohio, but no direct route existed. A new stove took quite a journey to reach Bismarck. 

At a Cleveland dock on the Ohio River stoves were loaded on a steamboat and rode southwesterly until reaching Cairo, Illinois where that river converged with the Mississippi River. Then the stove hauling steamboat headed mostly northward until reaching St. Louis, Missouri. Here it reached its confluence with the Missouri River. A long trip still awaited, but the Missouri River would take them to Bismarck and beyond with that desired cargo. 

A person ordering a stove had to be very patient because the trip took some time. I can’t guess, but I do know some of that freight never made it. While traveling during one of our road trips we visited a museum near Kansas City that paid tribute to a sunken steamboat named Arabia. After striking a submerged object in the river it sank in 1856, 169 years ago. Through the years the river changed course and skirted the site of the wreck, silt and dirt covered it over, and then in 1988 it was rediscovered and dug up in a farmer’s field.

Many goods intended for settlers never made it. Over two hundred tons of material have been salvaged, and it is probable more might still be buried. Exhibits in the Arabia Museum include a wide range of salvaged goods, including lamps, dishes, silverware, cookware, firearms, shoes, buttons, hammers, saws, and yes, stoves. A great narrative with plenty of pictures can be found by searching for the Arabia wreck on the internet.

River and railroad traffic could only supply some of the demand. Hauling goods and material still required wagons pulled by oxen, mules, and horses. In 1863, General Sibley entered the territory with about 3,300 uniformed men. Their intent was to punish the Indians for their undesired behavior in the Minnesota Uprising. Imagine the army’s appetite at the end of a long marching day. To satisfy their hunger 225 mule-drawn wagons bearing foodstuffs and material plus a herd of cattle accompanied the army. The men who drove the mule teams became known as teamsters.

At least one of the teamsters who drove mule teams returned to make his home in the area. In the old Owego Church cemetery I spotted a lonely military gravestone standing by itself. One of the words engraved on it identified him as a “Wagoner.” The inscription identified the man as James M. Kinney, Wagoner, Co. B, 10 Minn. Inf. I have found a roster of these men and Kinney’s name is included. He earned a bit of fame when the editor of the Sheldon noted how he had walked sixteen miles through the snow into town to catch the next day’s westbound train to Lisbon where he wanted to stay at the soldier’s home. He entertained some of the boys that evening telling them about his experiences.

Another teamster living in the area is buried in the Sheldon cemetery. John T. Hickey wound up driving a supply wagon at a famous historical event known as Custer’s Last Stand. The headline of the local paper referred to him as Reno’s freighter. My reading of history tells me that Custer rode into the area and thought he would hit the Indian encampment at three different points. Major Reno led the detachment to which Hickey was assigned.  I’d like to have been in the presence of the man when he “often related with much vividness the stirring times of encounters with the savage Indian tribes that roamed over the state.” When he brought his family to Sheldon to settle he managed a large livery stable across from the NP depot.

Today we only need to drive along an interstate highway to see multitudes of semi-trucks hauling goods from place to place. And who drives them? Teamsters. A large union represents their membership, the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.

 

Old Red Barns

A video of this can be found on my timeline on facebook. This is the script I used, but this blog can't post it because of too much memory. (or something like that.)

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I’ve just written another poem for the purpose of  using it to make a video, editing it, and recording it for viewing. I won’t have my ten-year old granddaughter by my side guiding me this time. This is all in preparation for the projects we intend to undertake this spring. More information about that will come later, but for now I hope you enjoy this poem about something happening in the countryside.

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Friends, those old red barns keep tumbling 

down, and it’s  sad to see them go

They stood muscling their shoulders

against assaulting blizzard winds

that howled and wailed against their walls.

Inside cows stood and chewed their cud

while giving their milk. Here cats  

meow-begged for a milker to squirt

a stream of milk at them. Farmers 

took pride in those barns while their wives 

often said he took better care of it

than he did the house they lived in.

Then times changed, tractors pulled the loads

and horse stalls stood empty.  Stanchions

for milk cows rusted without cows.

Tractors could not enter low door

openings. Little use was made

for these proud out-dated buildings.

Shingles weathered, water leaked in

 starting the slow rot of timbers

and boards. The peak of the roof sagged,

walls caved in, and winds kept wailing

to their predestined victory. 

…….

Some of the old red barns disappear each year. We took them for granted while growing up, but now we note their growing absence on the landscape. They’ve outlived their usefulness. I offer this as a lament. I hope you enjoyed it. Have a good day.

RANDOM THOUGHTS - March 28, 2025

 PBS programing accounts for about one-half of our household’s viewing time  …  A couple generations from now we will be forgotten  …  I met some “code talkers” and they deserve recognition  …  The chief function of the body is to carry the brain around  …  Our government is intended to function with three separate but equal branches (it’s in a history book) …  There’s a herd of wild rare curly-haired mustangs running free in Wyoming  …  “…of the people, by the people, for the people.”  …  “the whole nine yards” refers to the length of the ammo belt in a WWII fighter plane  …  Without a living memory of past events some will believe everything they hear. Antidote: read history books  …  Picture of a local cowboy saddled up and ready to ride was called Bill Dee by the famous poet Tom McGrath.

Our Old Sayings

 Our language is riddled with so many old sayings, maxims, axioms, platitudes, whatever term you hang on them that it is hard to hold a conversation without some of them entering into the exchange. Take these for instance: This isn’t my first rodeo, or make hay while the sun shines, or you’re preaching to the choir. As far as their meaning these are pretty self-explanatory. But there are other examples for which the original meaning or use has been lost.  

Some interesting and often-used expressions have original meanings that we have completely forgotten. Trust me, I didn’t know these meanings either. For instance, let’s “break the ice.” One of the places we use it occurs when there has been a rift and people aren’t communicating well. In reality it refers to the time of poor roads where ships provided a primary means of trade. When water in the ports iced over, small ice-breakers sailed out to “break the ice” so trade goods could be delivered.

Here’s one that’s been directed my way: “Cat got your tongue?” We hear it when we have a loss for words and can’t respond. Its original meaning does not have much meaning for us on the prairie.  My source said the English Navy used to used a whip called “Cat-o-nine-tails” to flog  rule breakers, and the resulting pain hurt so badly that the victims couldn’t speak.

We “turn a blind eye” when we want to ignore something. This goes back to the time of Admiral Horatio Nelson, the English naval hero, who had one blind eye. He exhibited a bit of what I’d call orneriness when he received the signal to stop attacking a fleet of Danish ships. He turned to his flag captain, Thomas Foley, and said "You know, Foley, I only have one eye — I have the right to be blind sometimes," and then, holding his telescope to his blind eye, said "I really do not see the signal!” He ordered the attack to proceed and whipped them badly.

“Go the whole nine yards” surprised me when I found it’s original meaning. We use it mostly to put our best effort forward, but it comes from the fighter plane days of World War II when the belts of ammunition for the machine guns in planes measured out to nine yards. If a pilot used the whole nine yards, he’d been presumed to have done his best in aerial combat. Speaking of that we can add “putting our best foot forward.” Shakespeare used it in one of his plays.

One dictionary definition of “Letting your hair down” means to allow yourself to behave more freely than usual and enjoy yourself. Maybe dancing uninhibitedly fits, but, of course, its meaning goes back to medieval times when women wore their hair with highly-gathered hairdos. After coming home from an event where they had primped to look their finest, they undid all the pins and let it tumble down for comfort.

Being “caught red-handed” is thought to date back to 15th century Scotland. At that time, it was very common for thieves to steal and kill other peoples’ livestock because it was easy to get away with the crime. It was a crime that was hard to prove unless the thief was actually caught in the act either with the animal or with the blood of the dead animal on his hands, hence the phrase “caught red-handed.” Of course, we apply it to cases where someone is caught doing something wrong.

Our daily language literally brims with these little sayings. I’ve been “given a cold shoulder” many times when I’ve been intentionally ignored or treated in an unfriendly way. Who knew it originated in the early 1800s when Sir Walter Raleigh wrote about it. It alludes to the custom of welcoming a desired guest with a meal of roasted meat, but serving only an inferior cold shoulder of beef or lamb to those who outstayed their welcome.  

 

The phrase "run of the mill" originated to describe uninspected goods produced by a mill. It later became an adjective to describe something as average or ordinary.  Handlers of livestock know about “gate run.” It means they run, say 30 head or more in the ring, sell them so much a head, you take as many as you want, but you can't pick and choose.

Mysterious words and phrases fill the English language leaving some wondering what that meant. I’m going to “hit the hay” originated in the nineteenth century when people slept on sacks stuffed with hay. Of course they wanted it fluffed up a bit by hitting and squeezing it, but it also helped to put the bugs on the run. 

Ask a young person about the “party line.” Some might not know, but then I guess their language is sprinkled with words and phrases for which I don’t have a clue.

The Lady Mayor

Sometimes a witty saying really does apply to people or situations. Take this one for instance: “Time flies, but leaves its shadow behind.” A fitting example is Agnes Kjorlie Geelan, a one-time mayor of Enderlin. It would be interesting to know at what age local individuals might never have heard about her. She was quite effective during her term of office from 1946 to 1954 where improvements were made in Enderlin such as paving the streets, installing new water and sewer systems, and negotiating for a better deal with the electric company.

I remember her, not that I cared since I was too young and didn’t live in Enderlin, but nevertheless I couldn’t avoid table talk. She made news in 1946 when she became the first female mayor of an incorporated North Dakota town.

She came to Enderlin after marrying a Soo Line employee named Elric Geelan. It didn’t take her long before she became active in civic and political affairs. She became an officer in the auxiliary of the Brotherhood of Trainmen, and a few years later was elected president of the North Dakota American Legion Auxiliary. Her involvement in the community rose to meet another challenge in 1946 when she became the mayor.

Rolling up her sleeves and going to work as mayor, she found humor in her nomination for that office. She expressed surprise when learning she’d been nominated upon returning home from a trip. Wondering why, she asked how this happened. The answer, “Agnes, you’ve bitched so much about city government, we figured we’d give you a chance to see if you could do any better.” She went on to say that she must have done all right since they elected another lady, Doris Smith, to  succeed her.

Mrs. Geelan added another first to her resume when earning the role of first woman elected to the North Dakota Senate. After being nominated as a candidate for the U. S. Congress in 1948 and 1956 she did not win election. A lifelong pacifist, she voted for a resolution asking the U.S. to pull American soldiers out of Korea. 

In 1988 she asked the North Dakota congressional delegation to arrange for her to observe the American and Soviet arms negotiation in Geneva, Switzerland. That request failed, but through the office of Kent Conrad she did receive an invitation to observe the UN’s session on disarmament in 1988. A little icing on the cake came when she was invited to attend the UN secretary general’s reception.

In retirement, she wrote books, the most notable being a biography titled The Dakota Maverick: The Political Life of William Langer. I took the book from my  shelf and began rereading it to refresh my memory. Her writing style is aggressive, just like the accomplishments in her career. I know from my reading of history that Langer’s first job as the assistant states attorney of Morton County was the first rung in climbing his political ladder. He earned a reputation as a fearless law enforcement officer.

Mrs. Geelan wrote about his lighter side, too. Langer found time for Mandan’s social life and apparently loved dancing. After receiving an invitation to a formal ball, he found a date and called for her in a cab and brought a corsage for her. She wrote, “Those luxuries were almost unheard of in Mandan in 1911, when even automobiles were scarce. When Blossom Lang and William Langer stepped out on the dance floor, all eyes were on the handsome attorney, elegantly dressed and a superb dancer. Langer charmed the young people and became as popular in this western town as he had been on the campus of the eastern university. After another occasion, however, he had quite a time living down the fact that he came to his first ski party wearing a top hat.”

The cap to her busy career came near the end of her life. For a number of years the Newsweek magazine honored individuals by naming them “Newsweek American heroes.” Her peace activism caught the attention of the award committee in 1988 and bestowed the honor on her. 

Two days after Mrs. Geelan passed away on March 10, 1993, Senator Kelly rose on a point of personal privilege and made remarks to enter into the Journal of the Senate. While it is too long to quote here, one of the statements he made said, “As the first woman elected to the North Dakota Senate, Agnes Geelan proved that women could secure and handle legislative leadership positions.”

He concluded with this remark, “In her outstanding career Agnes Geelan received many well-deserved honors for years of service to her party, her state, and nation. We will long remember her as a dedicated public servant who served her beloved North Dakota long and well.”

Video Too Large for Blogger

 I recently posted a video on facebook. As I always try to do, I wanted to place it on this blog. I received the notice that it is too large for this site. So anyone wanting to look at it, just go to facebook and type my name in and it will be there someplace.

We had fun making it. My ten-year-old granddaughter helped me. Last summer she had taken a short class using "Capcut" which is a video editing tool. She still knew how to do it. Then she said, "Grandpa, you need an intro and an outtro." So we made and added them, too. 

When the grass turns green this spring, we plan to get out to the country and make more videos concentrating on some historical sites in Ransom County.