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Happy Days On The Farm
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![]() Farm Life
![]() For a family with 11 children, nine
cats, and three dogs, there was plenty to do. Dad's favorite pet was
"our dog Teddy. He was a smart dog. In chasing the horses, he
would nip them above the hoof and let them kick above his ducked
head. He was great for catching gophers when we drowned them out of
their holes." They would sell the gopher tails for a penny each at
the Faulkton Courthouse. "Crows were worth more, ten cents, but
harder to come by," Viola writes. "So the boys watched for the crow
eggs to hatch to beat to the nest." Elvera wrote that they "would
often have a can of gopher tails and a can of crow heads of a shelf in our
back hall. In hot weather, they would become putrid and stink.
When my brothers brought the to town, the county agent couldn't bear to
count them, so he would just give the boys what they asked and shoo them
out of his office."
![]() One day,
the boys built a raft and polled across Dry Lake, a distance of about a
mile. They got a sun burn for their adventure. On another day,
they decided to hitch a 400-pound Hereford calf to a cart to provide free
transportation. They managed to tie the calf to the cart. But
then, as Reyn describes it, "all hell broke lose. The calf kicked up
his heels and galloped off in all directions scattering kids, chickens,
harness and cart-a fiasco of the first magnitude." The boys would
swim, sometimes nude, in the railroad ditch south of Millard. The
water was six feet deep if you measured the foot of mud at the
bottom. They also ice-skated in the round slough during the winter,
often in sub-zero weather. At times, cars were driven on the ice at
the slough with a line of skaters hanging on to crack the whip when the
car spun off in different directions.
![]() "During childhood, Irvin became known as the oldest of "the three
little boys," a closely-knit triumvirate of Irvin, Harold and Arvid
(Nick)," Reyn writes. "They enjoyed the fraternity and found diverse
things to do. In the summer, they went bare-footed, which saved shoe
leather. But it could be painful to toughen their soles like
horsehide. In good weather, they often went to the garden located
east of the elevator where they could eat peas, carrots, turnips, and
radishes after wiping off some of the dirt."
![]() "Again, they could wander over to the elevator to explore
the engine room with its Fairbanks-More stationary gas engine and then
climb up the dusty, dark elevator shaft on a ladder that led up to the top
of the grain bins. In the adjoining warehouse, they could climb up
over the grain bins and then jump down into the grain a distance of 10 or
12 feet. Since the sidetrack usually held a line of empty railroad
cars, this provided another place to play. One game was to run on
top of these cars jumping from one to the next-- a feat that shocked
customers who had come to the store."
![]() The boys also liked to play in the store amid the groceries,
fruit, horse collars, coffee and flour sacks, spools of thread, Horseshoe
plug tobacco, overalls, machinery, drums of cheese, kegs of nail, crates
of bananas, and jars of candy. "The kids sometimes took more candy
than they could eat, leaving a mass of chocolate to melt in their pants
pocket."
![]() They belonged to a
4-H club. "One year the club chose to raise capons as their main
project," Reyn writes. "The theory was that male chickens could be
neutered to develop big, fat, docile capons. Well, the boys got out
their surgical instruments and performed these operations in true medical
fashion. Most of the capons survived but they developed gas problems
that caused bloating and required frequent medical attention. This
project died after one experimental year, probably to the relief of all
potential capons." With Milton as an advisor, one year they decided
to dress a pig as a baby and enter it in Faulkton's annual parade.
They won first prize.
![]() "While
in grade school, the three little boys milked eight to ten cows twice a
day. This was a miserable task. Milking had to be done before
going to school and on cold winter nights this job encouraged
procrastination. At times, they tried to cut a deal such as 'I will
trade you Molly for Suzie in milking tonight' or 'I will trade you half of
Molly in exchange of half of Suzie.' Finally, a dash for the barn
ensued with the path lit by a feeble light of a kerosene lantern usually
fitted with a sooty glass chimney," Reyn writes. A diary entry from
Ann Marie Low, a North Dakota pioneer, from April 30, 1928:
"Saturday we baked, washed, ironed, scrubbed floors, churned, and painted
the kitchen. Then we had to milk the cows. The thought now
filters into my dim brain that I should never have learned to milk."
![]() "Our vegetable garden was a
huge one, but why so far away?" Viola asks. The two-acres garden was
located near the elevator beyond the Milwaukee railroad tracks. This
meant a bit of a hike to and from the garden, carrying tools and
buckets. "It must have been started when the folks lived in the
depot because it was east of the elevator. I suppose it was broken
up from prairie sod. The greater part was taken up with
potatoes. It took a lot of them for our big family. I seem to
remember radishes, lettuce, peas, string beans, greens, and
tomatoes. Oh yes, and onions. For corn, we used regular corn
from the field while it was young.
![]() "Flowers didn't fair well though some were planted near the
house. Nasturtiums I remember and a poor little lilac bush.
Mother would plant trees Three years in a row they were stripped by
hail. We had one little cottonwood tree that became Lone Tree
Park. One year I made a little flowerbed, round and surrounded with
stones. I planted only poppies and hauled water for them for
weeks. Finally, they bloomed. In a week, the South Dakota
winds had blown all the petals away."
![]() "Working in the garden lasted all summer," Reyn adds.
"Planting, hoeing, weeding, and picking vegetables could be almost a daily
chore. Of course, one pulled radishes and turnips, rubbed some dirt
off them and then ate them on the spot."
![]() Dad and the other children would also herd cattle on
horseback. They had about seventy Herefords. Years later, he
would attribute his bowed legs to years of horseback riding as a cowboy on
the Dakota range. "When I stretched out my arm and measured out two
inches with my thumb and forefinger, it was time to drive the cattle
home," Elvera writes. Sometimes, she or the other kids would drive a
team of horses for raking hay in the fields. "The work wasn't
difficult. But it entailed considerable responsibility," Reyn
writes. "To manage horses weighing 1,200 pounds each and keeping them
going in a straight line so as to not waste hay was no small feat for a
youngster. Besides, the flies made the horses restless, and nose
flies made them almost unmanageable at times."
![]() "In addition, children were asked to help the older
brother in pitching hay, hauling manure, fixing fences, picking rocks,
butchering hogs, de-horning cattle, docking lambs by cutting of their
tails, and castrating farm animals." This, Reyn wryly notes, "was
the real world."
![]() The girls
also had their share of small pleasures, with picnics, baseball, and
anti-over-throwing the ball over the barn, catching it, and running around
to hit one of the players on the other side of the barn. "With two
boys older and three younger, it's not surprising that I was something of
a tomboy playing basketball, baseball, and horseshoes with them," Viola
writes. "They were always better, but it was still fun. Since
I was such a roustabout, mother had decided that I should wait to have a
good doll. I got a lovely one with hair and closing eyes.
Unfortunately, I was past the age of bonding with dolls. I tried so
hard to enjoy that doll, but it was just a doll to me. Elvera had
worked hours and hours making clothes for it-a box full of lovely things
including a bright blue coat with a fur collar. I would put on
clothes and take them off but my imagination didn't take hold.
![]() "Table games were our winter
entertainment. We had lots of games of the type where you spin a
number and move your marker hoping to beat or send the other guy
home. There were dominoes and checkers, etc. And pencil games
were always available such as tic-tac-toe and two types of war games.
![]() "I don't think anyone read me
bedtime stories. Mother read the Bible to us but other reading we
were to do for ourselves. We stayed up playing games or reading till
we had to wrap up the flat irons in newspaper and scamper up to bed to get
a warm place for our feet."
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Collections? "Not really. I did have a little lacquered box
but I've forgotten what tiny treasures I had in it. I think I buried
it once."
![]() Viola's best friend
was Mildred Wahlen. "She said I was the only one who ever called her
Milly. She was a proper little miss and it seems strange I adored
her because she was always being pointed out as behaving the way a little
girl should. She wore lots of petticoats and black bloomers with
elastic above the knee. She stuck hankies and stuff above the
elastic. At recess, we would make mud pies and set them out on
boards to dry. One day, I made a mistake and sat in the pies.
Milly knew what to do. She took me down to the slough east of the
school, turned me around, and washed off my behind. I don't think
the other kids even laughed when I came in with a wet behind.
![]() "A perfect day was a spring day when
the Mayflowers were blooming and I could wander down to Dry Lake," Viola
writes.
![]() "We could hardly wait
for Mom's approval to shed our shoes and run barefoot all summer long,"
Elvera writes. "I can still remember how deliciously soft and fresh
the grass felt between my toes and under foot. And then there was
new life everywhere! New calves and colts in the pasture, adorable
little kittens in the haymow, cuddly little puppies under the back porch,
fat piglets, proud mother hens clucking to their brood of fluffy chicks,
ducks trying to coax little ducklings down to the pond back of the
barn. Oh, it was good just to be alive and to be a kid in springtime
on the farm."
![]() "Life on the
farm was not all fun and games," Reyn writes. "There was danger from
lightning which on one occasion burned down one of our barns, there were
dangers from prairie fires which swept across the plains and necessitated
the turn out of all hands to fight the infernos. At one time when
Milton and Slim were burning off a field to get rid of the trash, the fire
jumped the road and swept by the Hansen home almost burning down the
house. Horses could kick and runaways were rather frequent.
One time Slim was thrown from a mowing machine and ground under the main
gear which dug a huge gash in his back. Ponies could step into
badger holes when covered with snow throwing the horse and rider
headlong. Threshing machines and circular saws also were hazards to
face on the farm." When Dad was five, he got his fingers caught in a
washing machine wringer. He still carries a scar.
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Christmas on the Farm
![]() At Christmas, the teachers and students
would decorate their schoolroom with red and green streamers. They
would carefully watch the candles as they burned on the Christmas tree
that reached the ceiling, lest they burn down the place. All the
children under 12 would have to do a recitation-"say a piece." They
also held a Christmas pageant with wise men in sheets and shepherds in
burlap. "Due to the fact that we were a large family, the general
practice as I recall was to draw slips to find out who should get a
present," Dad writes. "We would meet for sharing of presents on
Christmas eve. We would have a lighted Christmas tree. As a
child, I participated in recitations and group singing at the Millard
school house that also served as a place for Sunday school. Our
favorite Christmas carol was probably Silent Night."
![]() Cars
![]() Emma bought a Model T in 1920. The kids could drive
as long as they were able to stand up and look out of the
windshield. Dad wouldn't get his license until 1942 when he was
26. (I was 25 when I got mine.) The first car Viola remembers
"was the Studebaker, the one Margaret Christianson persuaded Vera she
could drive and drove straight into the north end of the front porch
moving it to the south several feet while Swan was sitting on it calling
'Whoa! Whoa!' As I recall, it was called a seven-passenger because
between the front and back there were seats that folded down into the
floor. I think the tires were not pneumatic but on some kind of
spongy rubber."
![]() Milton would
race their car against Donnie Wahlen's Pontiac down dusty country lanes in
speeds exceeding 50 miles a hour. During the race, two young people
often sat on the front fenders with their legs clamped around the
headlights and their feet resting on the front bumper and holding the
radiator cap while other kids stood on the running boards. In
perhaps what was a case of God tempering the wind to the shorn lamb, no
one was hurt and the parents were none the wiser.
![]() The older kids made a daily round trip of 22
miles to the high school in Faulkton. In April 1923, Milton, Elvera,
Reynold, David, Viola, Irvin, and Dad wanted to go to Lambert's Garage in
Faulkton to hear for the first time a radio. They crossed Faulkton
Creek's bridge. "As we rounded a curve with the tin lizzie loaded
with seven farm kids," Reyn writes, " the nut on the top of the steering
column came off, the wheel disengaged, and the car rolled into the ditch"
on its side. No one was hurt, and the boys were soon able to right
the car. They proceeded to the garage and "stood in awe as the
sounds filled the night air, and repeated the old refrain 'What will
people think of next?' " A few years later, the Wiks bought a
Montgomery Airline radio.
![]() Dad
remembers seeing a headline HARDING IS DEAD in August, 1923. Viola
also remembers the day. "Mother was ironing when I opened the paper
and read the headline in huge letters. I read it to her and she said
"No!" I have vague memories of things like Lindbergh's crossing but
not of the moment I heard it."
![]() July 4th
![]() "Each year the fourth of July was celebrated with gusto," Reyn
writes. "Long in advance, plans were made to secure fireworks that
mothers hated and children loved. One summer, Irv, Harold, and Arv
rode on horseback to Wecota, some five miles away to buy an arsenal of
explosives. They returned in triumph with three-inch firecrackers,
cherry bombs, sparklers, and Roman candles. On the morning of the
fourth, the first one up usually ignited one of these hand grenades under
the beds of the late risers, in all filling the air with smoke and flying
debris. Later, a community picnic featured the consumption of
gastronomical amounts of food, including homemade ice cream that had been
frozen on the spot. Ice was placed in a burlap gunnysack and hit
with an axe until it could be poured around the freezer unit that was
turned by hand. It sometimes took an hour to get the cream frozen,
but on a hot day it was the perfect dessert. It was made of rich
cream, sugar, and vanilla flavoring and was served in huge bowls. On
one fourth at the Olson home in Millard, a 50-gallon crock was used to
hold the lemonade. After this was gone, the same crock was used for
washing dishes. This dishwater contained several floating lemon
peals. When the kids came in from playing several filled their
glasses and gulped down some of the dishwater before they discovered their
mistake."
![]() "The girls were
wearing long dresses and light coats lined with fur and the men wore white
knickerbockers trousers and sweaters checked tan and white," Edmund Wilson
writes in an evocative diary entry of July fourth, 1925. "Hot dogs,
dabbed with mustard from the common bowl with little long-handled wooden
trowels, and buttermilk, salt-water taffy, hot buttered popcorn. As
the sky darkened, the fireworks were started, and a rocket streamed violet
and silver against the deepening gray-then it burst in brooches of red,
gold, and green, great bouquets that unfolded and shriveled, growing out
of one another; the loud detonation of a cluster of white electric
stars. Children held bristling brass of their toy sparklers out to
the enormous darkening sea. Before night, little blond bob-haired
girls and boys, in pink and yellow pinafores, slid squealing down the
smooth, bumpy rides in an interminable succession. The last random
pops and shots of the fourth-the smell of gunpowder."
![]() The kids had nicknames that came and went.
Victor was Vic and Vitter, Lillian Lil, Milton Metta, Elsie Peggy, David
Dave, Viola Ila , Irvin Slim, and Elvera Skinney and then Kinney and Vera.
When Dad was small, his name was Hully. Later, he rejoiced in Spud, Cap,
and Kip (because he wore Victor's old army cap that Victor used in
military training while attending the State College in Brookings.) Arvid
became Boot (someone said, "he looks just like a bootlegger!").
"For some ungodly reason, I was called "Bane" and my crippled left arm
(because of a fall from a horse when five) was often referred to as "The
Fork," Reyn writes. In Faulkton High School, they also had "Goofy"
Olson, "Bugs" Frad, "Sappy" Wilhelm, "Ding" Wetering, and "Boo" Bocock.
![]() "In Faulkton High School, the
vogue of bobbed hair occurred in 1923 and 1924," Reyn writes. "At
first, conservative parents held strong objections to this practice.
The issue generated sincere debate and it could become a matter of family
prayer. The first girls who bobbed their hair were stared at with
great curiosity. But the peer pressure became so great that within
two years the bizarre had become commonplace. Short skirts, jazz
music, and lipstick and rogue were also part of this cultural revolution."
![]() Music
![]() Music has been a big part of the Wik
family. In the early days, the family would enjoy singing something from
Handel or Gilbert and Sullivan ("I polished up the handle so
care-ful-lee/that now I am the ruler of the king's na-vee") while they
milked the cows. "Some one said we may not sing well, but we sing
loudly," Reyn writes. For a time, Milton, Irvin, Reynold, and Dad
sang in church, perhaps the only male quartet consisting of four
baritones. "Dad played the guitar as did Elsie," Viola writes.
"He liked to sing and the neighbors sang and played with him." Irvin
was an especially gifted singer. He would sing "How Great Thou Art"
at Wik reunions with such depth of feeling, it would bring tears to our
eyes. Family members learned to play the violin, guitar, mandolin,
and piano. Dad learned to play the mandolin, and also took piano
lessons for several summers from Inez Clifford. Dad's favorite song
was "Meal Times at the Zoo." He played it so often that everybody
else began to hate zoos. "Inez had a great love for music and taught
me piano lessons for a time," Dad writes. "I messed up though at a
recital for a number of us, but she was diplomatic in smoothing things
over."
![]() Inez and her husband
Perry in 1927 organized the Faulk County Choir, which presented Handel's
Messiah. These concerts became annual events during the next 30 years and
were presented in most of the towns in the county. Perry directed the
chorus of about 50 singers while Inez provided the piano accompaniment. At
times an orchestra assisted the choir and soloists were secured from the
McPhail School of Music in the Twin Cities. Wiks were enthusiastic members
of the choir. Eight members of the family, (Elsie, Milton, Elvera,
Reynold, Viola, Irvin, Harold and Nicholas) took piano or voice lessons
from Inez. All sang in the Faulk County Chorus. Elsie, Milton, Viola and
Irvin had important roles in operettas, and Irvin was a soloist at several
"Sing-In" concerts. "Even today, some 60 years later, whenever I hear such
sacred music as "All We Like Sheep Have Gone Astray", and "And the Glory
of the Lord Shall be Revealed", and the "Hallelujah" chorus, my mind goes
back to the singing in the Faulk County Chorus." Reyn writes. "Again I
visualize Perry conducting with a sweeping motion of his baton while Inez
hammered out the intricate notes on the piano. I am sure such pleasant
memories are shared by hundreds of singers who participated in these
events over the years."
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Schooling
Dad spent eight years of early education in a
one-room schoolhouse. The class had about 15 students. It was
a white, wooden-framed building with a bell-tower steeple. Inside,
you could see a coal-burning stove, framed pictures of George Washington,
Woodrow Wilson, and General Pershing, a phonograph, a pencil sharpener,
and a small bookcase containing a dictionary and The Book of
Knowledge The Wik kids walked almost a mile to school carrying
their lunch in a Karo ("There's a wealth of health with Karo") syrup
gallon can. In the winter, the kids sometimes were frostbitten, and
they would cry with pain as they began to thaw. "Only on rare
occasions did Dad or Swan come to pick us up in a sled drawn by a team of
horses," Reyn writes. "And at these times it was dangerous for
people to walk through winter storms." All eight grades recited out
loud, with each grade walking to the front to recite on a particular
subject, such as arithmetic, geography, or spelling. Viola remembers
playing in the sandbox and swing and walking on stilts at school, and also
making bows and arrows when they read Robin Hood. Dad, Irvin, and Nick
were on the track team. The Millard school won the Faulk County
track meet three times in a row to win an impressive permanent trophy.
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