Hoosier Farm-Boy: Memoir by Gary William Steele
Chapter 4 : Life in the 1950s
Section 4.1 : Sweating it Out in Sunday School
When I was about ten years old or so, my Dad and I were helping out a neighbor getting their land ready to plant corn. I was driving our old Massey Harris tractor and disking the ground after it had been plowed. We always had to stop the tractor occasionally in order to grease the joints of the disk or to clean out dirt clods that would clog up the machine and sometimes it was hard to get them unclogged.
The neighbor’s son, Lamoine Thomas, was riding with me on the tractor. It was nice having someone my own age for a change to talk to while driving the tractor. I didn’t know Lamoine that well, but I knew that he was a bit of a rebel non-conformist at school. For some reason, I invited Lamoine to go with me to church the next Sunday and he accepted. I had been going to church regularly my whole life. I don’t think that Lamoine had ever gone to church before.
Sunday arrived and my friend and I were sitting across from each other in the Sunday School class. The Sunday school teacher was talking about the importance of prayer and how God could answer people’s prayers when they prayed. Then she asked the class if anyone had an example of answered prayer from God. I was always very shy especially at that age and I rarely talked in Sunday school class. To my great surprise, Lamoine raised his hand. He started by saying that him and I were in the fields the past week and that we would have to stop to break-up the clods when it got clogged. I was starting to get very nervous. He then went on to say that we would get down on our knees and pray to God to help us break-up the clods. Since I knew that this hadn’t happen, I was very anxious.
Then the worst possible thing happened. Lamoine pointed to me and exclaimed, “Isn’t that right, Gary?” I could feel the eyes of the whole class upon me as they waited for my answer. I was sure that the demons were going to appear at any moment to drag me to hell if I lied in church. I swallowed hard and muttered “yes”. I wasn’t against a good practical joke myself, but this was totally unexpected. I have to hand it to Lamoine for pulling off a good one.
Another incident I remember is with Lamoine and his dad when we were finishing cleaning out a corn crib. As you finish the last bit of corn in a corn crib, the mice go crazy for they have no other place to run. Lamoine’s dad was in his usual bib overalls shoveling the corn into the truck with us. Suddenly, a small mouse ran out of the corn and ran right up the pant-leg of his bib overalls. Lamoine and I were rolling on the ground laughing while his dad was frantically trying to take-off his overalls. Too bad we didn’t have camera phones back then.
“Thinking, not for the first time, that life should come with a trapdoor. Just a little exit hatch you could disappear through when you´d utterly and completely mortified yourself.”
― Michele Jaffe, Prom Nights from Hell
Section 4.2 : Two Longs and a Short
Two long rings and one short. That was our party line “special ring tone” for the Steele family. Rural areas in the U.S. in the 1950’s and 60’s had a majority of people sharing the phone line with multiple other families, up to 8 or 10 shared lines. Every person on the line had their own phone number, but the ring code was different for everyone. When a call came in, you might hear a long ring, a double-short or two longs and a short, which was ours.
You were “supposed” to only pick-up the line when you heard your ring code, but of course many times other people on the party line would listen to their neighbors calls because everyone on the party line shared the same physical phone line. This meant that if you lifted the receiver and someone else was talking you were supposed to hang-up and wait for the line to be free. The actual phones seem huge compared to day. Large black monstrosities. It wasn’t allowed to use any profanity and you were required to answer the phone “Steele Residence” with your family name. Lots of people, however, loved to listen-in to the party lines to fill their need for gossip. There wasn’t any Jerry Springer show back then, so this worked pretty well.
Section 4.3 : New Salem School
Wabash County was one of ninety-two counties in Indiana. Chester Township was one of seven townships in Wabash County. New Salem Elementary School was one of seven consolidated elementary schools in Chester Township. In the last half of the 1800’s, there were originally fifteen one-room school houses. They were positioned so that no student would have to walk more than a mile. On the corner of the one square mile where our farm was located, I remember the remains of one of those old school houses. What an experience that must have been for our grandparents and great grandparents.
New Salem was the elementary school that my sisters, Anna and Becky, and I attended until I finished second grade in 1957. I remember my sisters waiting anxiously at the front window of our house for the school bus to round the corner after picking up the neighbors kids. Our mother always taught us to be on time, but that wasn’t a big priority with my Dad. He actually seemed to enjoy being an irritation to my mom in this area and many other situations too. My sisters and I were always dressed and ready for the bus, thanks to our mom.
We were the second stop for the bus. That meant that on cold wintry days, we could pick one of the few seats next to one of the bus heaters. Of course, that also meant that we had the longest ride on the bus to get to school. I remember the bus arriving between 7:15am and 7:30am. We never had fancy clothes to wear. Most of the shirts I wore, or the dresses, skirts, or blouses that my sisters wore were either handmade or hand-me-downs from other people. That didn’t matter to us, many of the other kids were country kids as well and had the same kind of clothing.
The position where you sat in the bus determined how high you would jump when the bus hit one of the innumerable number of pot-holes on the gravel roads. The back of the bus, over that rear axle, was the place to sit if you wanted to hit you head on the ceiling of the bus after hitting a big pothole or going over a bridge. Most of the roads in the county were unpaved gravel roads. Some roads had a coating of oil on the top to keep one’s car from being covered by a thick cloud of dust as another car bounded by. Each year a few more miles of black-topped roads would get done, but the road in front of our house was one of the last ones to be completed.
When the bus got to New Salem school, all of the kids piled out. The first period of the day was a recess because the bus had to go and pick-up the rest of the students. There was only one bus for the school and it had to make two trips. There were only two classrooms in the school. One for grades one to three and the other for grades four through six. when I was in first grade and Becky was in second grade, we were in the same classroom. Anna was in the other room with the older kids. There were about 48 students in total, divided between the two rooms.
One of my favorite stories of the
school comes from my sister, Becky. I don’t actually have any memory of this event myself. Both Becky and I were both very shy, but I was always better at math. We were sitting in class when the teacher, Mrs. Evans, asked Becky to come to the blackboard to solve a math problem. Becky reluctantly went to the board, but after struggling for a while without solving the problem, she went sadly back to her seat.
I raised my hand when Mrs. Evans asked who knew how to do the problem. Becky told me that I went to the blackboard and quickly did the problem that she had failed to do. Then, to Becky’s eternal regret, Mrs. Evans said “Becky, why can your brother Gary solve this problem when he is in the first grade and you are in the second grade and can’t solve the problem”. I don’t have a memory of this event myself, but since it was a humiliating experience for her, it has never left the recesses of her mind.
I remember well New Salem school. There was a large cement stairway leading up to an entrance landing. If you went down half a flight of stairs to the left, it would lead to the kitchen and the cafeteria. If you went down half a flight of stairs to the right it would lead to a small gymnasium for indoor play. If you continued up the stairs, you would find on the right the classroom for grades one to three. If you went straight ahead at the top of the stairs, you would be in the grade four to six classroom. On the left side of the top floor would be the auditorium.
At mid-morning and lunch, we would go to the cafeteria for morning snack and lunch respectively. Mrs. xxx was in charge of the cafeteria, but the mothers of the children would come and help her as needed as volunteers. I remember my mother helping out by serving the food and the milk which came in small glass bottles.
Section 4.4 : The Joy of Reading
My mother had a collection of early reading books like “Fun with Dick and Jane”. I learned to read a very early age mostly with these Dick and Jane books. I feel extremely fortunate that I grew-up at that age before we even had a television. Even more fortunate that I was exposed to reading, music and a strong work-ethic from my parents. I remember laying in my room upstairs in the farmhouse, reading for hours on end. I didn’t want to go to sleep because I never wanted to stop reading. I’m not sure our modern system of teaching is any better than just sitting a child on the floor and giving them a “Dick and Jane” book.
My father had just a high school education, but he loved to read. At least once a month, he would take me to the town library in North Manchester. It was a beautiful old, historic, modest two-story library. Sunday afternoons were the designated time when I would go with my dad to the library. Each of us would pick-up a stack of up to ten books to take home. It was always just my dad and me, I can’t remember ever my mom or sisters going with us. It was one those special activities that was reserved just for him and me. I never got bored in those times reading.
Old North Manchester Public Library is a historic Carnegie library building located at North Manchester, Wabash County, Indiana. It was built in 1912, and is a two-story, rectangular, American Craftsman style dark red brick building over a basement. It has a low-pitched side gable roof of red Spanish tile and wide overhanging eaves. The building corners feature massive piers with sloping sides. It was built in part with a $10,000 donation from the Carnegie Foundation. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1996.[1] The building no longer contains a public library; since the 1990s, it is owned by a private law firm. The “new” North Manchester Public Library is located at 405 North Market Street. … From Wikipedia
My dad would focus mostly on biographies of famous people. I preferred fiction on fantasy, and adventure of all kinds. Daniel Boone, Moby Dick, Jules Verne, Mark Twain, Last of the Mohicans. I could not get enough of reading. I remember seeing the movie “Wizard of Oz” for the first time and I had to get the book at the library, written by L. Frank Baum. I was in the first grade at the time and I was amazed that all of the adventures of Dorothy in the book that were missing in the movie. I remember play-acting the scenes of the movie and the book with my sisters and friends. I believe that if a child is well-read, the knowledge that they acquire from great works of literature will make them higher achievers in every subject that they take in school.
We have lost so much in this age of video games and computers on the joy of just reading a book. I know I didn’t emphasize this on my own daughters as I should have now, looking back. I have both my mom and dad for impressing on me the importance of reading.
“A book is a dream that you hold in your hand.” — Neil Gaiman
Section 4.5 : Grampa’s House on Sundays
Once or twice a month, we went to visit grandma and grandpa Steele in South Whitley. They lived in a small, old house close to the fire station. South Whitley is a small town about 15 miles from our farm with a population about 1,700 people. My dad graduated from South Whitley high school and we would go each year to their annual fish fry. I remember seeing dad’s old high school photo on the walls of the high school.
I remember seeing grandpa sitting as usual in his rocking chair beside his old radio cabinet listening intently to the radio and smoking his pipe. All of his house, car, and clothes always reeked of pipe smoke. That was his signature smell. Grandma would be cooking in the kitchen. Grandpa’s big Oldsmobile would be sitting out front in front of the house. When he needed to go to the store, he would say “I’m going to take the machine to the store”. He called the car “the machine” since he grew-up in the horse and buggy age and he still thought of cars as new-fangled machines. I don’t remember grandpa ever watching TV much, he preferred his radio and a simple life.
Grandpa’s house was the center of much of the families reunions. Uncle John, Aunt Lucile, Aunt Ruby, and Uncle Charlie and all their families would gather at the house. I remember seeing many family photos where the subjects of the photo were seated on a couch in their parlor. Behind the couch there was always the same ugly, old picture hanging crooked behind the couch. Nobody ever bothered to set the picture straight so every photo had the same awful crooked photo in the photograph. I would visit with relatives and recognize that couch and crooked picture every time.
Their house was like going back to the 1900’s for a visit. The old cabinet style radio an old 33 & 1/3 record player that would also play 45rpm records. I remember listening to the old records like “Little Black Sambo”, “Here comes Peter Cottontail”, and songs sung by Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. We would view a large collection of 3-D photos on the Stereograph Photo Viewer or use Sawyers View-master. Games such as “Uncle Wiggley”, Chinese checkers, and Ouija were always available.
But my all-time favorite games with grandpa were checkers and dominos. We could play for hours with double-twelve dominos and we always kept score. To score the four ends of the branches of dominos had to add to a multiple of five. I honed my math skills by playing a lot of dominos with my dad and grandpa. We never played with any set less than a double-twelve set because grandpa said that the smaller sets “weren’t real dominos”. Checkers was also a game that I became very skilled at playing.
Of course, family reunions were always focused around eating. A family favorite was green-bean casserole. It wasn’t unusual for several families to bring this same dish since all of the farm families always had an abundance of green beans. Each family also typically brought their own favorite desert dishes with lots of apple, cherry, rhubarb, pumpkin, or raspberry pies. And no dinner was complete with a very large bowl of mashed potatoes with lots of gravy. After all, what’s the point of potatoes without gravy! Fried chicken, ham, potato salad, dressing completed the menu. Never a lack of food or leftovers for everyone to take back home.
“I loved grandpa’s home. Everything smelled older, worn but safe; the food aroma had baked itself into the furniture.” . . . Susan Strasberg
Section 4.6 : Sneaking Out of My Room
My upstairs bedroom window facing the south would open-up to the roof over the back enclosed porch. I could climb out of the window and sit there and see the farm and surroundings. Below this roof about two feet away and two feet lower was the roof of the pump house building. My devious mind started thinking about how I could jump from the porch roof to the pump house roof and from there let myself over the porch roof and drop myself to the ground.
After several weeks of getting up the courage, I finally made the leap from one rooftop to the other. After that first brave jump, it was pretty easy after that. I never told anybody about my secret exit from my room until writing this book, I don’t believe anybody in my family knew about my sneaking out. I prided myself in leaving the room and later entering in through the front door and nobody ever realized that I had not come out of my room through the stairway. This was just my little secret.
