Written by Herman G. Leubecher
My early memories are of the folks living in a small house, due west of the bridge west from Morrells, about where the small cottage now stands. A few houses stood where the oil warehouse now stands, and the one railroad track was put in later, called the South Dakota Central. Earl and Orville Young, two boys and living a block north, both older than I, were playmates. A large cottonwood tree with a swing and the well were about where the filling station now stands; the bridge across the river was being built and the workmen would not let us play around there. I remember quite often some drunken guy would stagger down the track, which we three boys thought quite funny and would imitate. My sister Kate, then about 11 or 12 years old, had been hired by a family some distance north, and about the second day there, the man came home drunk as a hoot owl and threatened to kill them all and scared Kate nearly to death, then when she came home she worked on me till I promised her not to drink at all, something I can thank her for the rest of my life.
Also remember I caused somewhat of a neighborhood scare one time. A barrel half full of water was standing near the stove, frozen over with three or four inches of ice. The stove poker was a flat piece of iron about 16 inches long which I would heat red hot then melt the ice. I was told to stop, but tried it again and broke off an inch of the poker; expected to get a good spanking so crawled under the bed to hide. Was not missed till supper time which was after dark, and the whole family started looking and soon had the neighbors also. The more they called the more scared I got then later mother sat down in a rocking chair and saw me hiding.
Moving out here the first I remember was a pile of lumber on the ground some of the folks had hauled for new buildings and a bad prairie fire west of the place. It burned near to where the barn now stands and finally put out with help from the neighbors with plows. The only building on the place was a one room with a lean-to divided in two rooms, one used as bedroom and the other as pantry. It was only a shell as the windows were gone and most of the floor. An addition was built onto the north, most of which is still standing; no insulation was used and places up stairs with cracks where you could see day light outside, rather cold sleeping in the winter time with sometimes a small snow drift over the floor. After they moved in, they found the house was full of bed-bugs, as many homes were at that time and very hard to get rid of as no insecticides were to be had as they are now. Don't know all they did use but remember them using Paris green, mixed with white-wash, made of lime, to paint the rooms. Remember one time staying at a place near the Wall Lake farm and so many in bed I could not sleep and the lady at the house came with a light, lifted the blanket and bugs were crawling in all directions.
My job for a few years was herding cows and usually kept them west and northwest, as far as the county line on the south side of the track. Sometimes the Brooks boys, Rich and Will, also Harry and Fred Hobson would be there herding as you could herd them anywhere and no one objected. People would cut the grass for hay and if it got rained on after raking, would just leave it and cut some more. In 1894, the dry year with near a total crop failure, mother and I that fall and winter, drove over the prairie picking up those old windrows and had a fair sized stack of hay, so they were able to winter the livestock.
The well soon went dry and new ones were dug by had, most of which had a small amount of water but soon went dry also. I can remember of 7 different wells all dug by hand over various places but all dry. Two shallow wells in this neighborhood did not go dry and we got some water there, then hauled some from the river east of here. Hauling water was also quite different as there were no steel barrels as now; barrels were all made of wood as were the pails and would soon dry out and leak.
Roads were just wagon trails and the main road to S.F. was west of here, cutting the south west corner of the south 40 and on north-west to town. After the folks fenced the south 40, there were several times the wires were cut as they said the road had been used over 20 years and was a legal road. Later the Township bought an elevator grader with 8 horses hitched in front and 4 in back to push. Remember when going to school and they were grading the road east from here. The grader with one plow furrow with the dirt thrown on the elevator and run to the center of the road, was slow work in getting a road built. Later the Township bought a blade grader, about an 8 or 10 foot blade and pulled by 8 and sometimes 10 horses, also two horse slips used to fill in mud holes and at culverts. The Township was divided into 4 quarters with a road boss elected for each quarter and every one had to work out the road taxes assessed against him. The railroads paid road taxes in cash so the boss could hire extra help for what they paid.
Mother's diary says they sold flax in 1897, I remember plowing back that sod so most of the field work was up to me after that. Had a 16 inch wooden beam walking plow that did good work and not heavy. Later bought a 14 inch steel beam walking plow. The local blacksmith in Shindler made a new plow lay for it one time, heated the iron too hot so was brittle and broke easily, which happened a half dozen times, and the plow would not scour, about the worst job one can think of is to use a walking plow that does not scour. Dad finally took the lay to a good blacksmith in S.F. who told him it had been ruined, but did fix it better than had been done. Plowing with a 16 inch plow, 3 acres was considered a days work which means about 20 miles of walking each day. Cultivating corn with a single row, 8 acres a day was considered a days work with the same distance of walking, all over soft ground. Many times have I been so tired while cultivating could hardly take another step. Dad one time bought a riding sulky plow that no one else wanted and again a riding cultivator that was worn out when he got it. Finally bought a new riding cultivator when Ida lived over east , either 1908 or 9. Our first binder was an old 6 foot Deering which was a heavy load for three horses so Mason, living north on the Hobson place, made a four horse hitch. Had part of a field of rye left west of the barn and Dad made me get on the binder to try it out then turning at the west end of the field, the horses started to run and headed south across the road into a wheat field. The binder was in gear so it soon slowed the horses enough so Mason caught up, got hold of the lines and got them stopped after running perhaps less than two blocks. Later at times dad would run the binder and I would shock but he never did learn to thread the needle or do anything to keep it running so did not go too good.
In the fall or early winter as soon as all the corn in the neighborhood was picked the cattle and horses were turned loose, so usually had to hunt up the cows to be milked in the evening, and sometimes up to 1 1/2 miles northwest, a few times could not find them at all at night, then ride most of the next day looking for them, found them once or twice in that grove of trees along the track west of the Whipple place. One time in the winter and deep snow, the horses were on the track east of here and about 40 rods south of the crossing. The 4 o'clock passenger train came along, tooted and all got off the track but one and she ran on down the track, the train slowed to let her get off but she kept on running with the train soon close behind. We stood here watching till out of sight then she finally got off the track at the crossing at Shindler, none the worse for the run.
We usually had from 8 to 10 cows to milk which was Gussie's and my job entirely as dad did not milk over one cow a year, and mother helped out with one or two sometimes. In the summer time we always milked the cows while loose, outside in the yard, usually had several that were kind of pets and would come and follow you around wanting to get milked first. Usually had at least one kicker and one or two with teats so short that I was the only one to milk them, so numerous times, when I was away and come home near midnight, would have to change clothes and go milk one or two short-teated cows. Had one cow called Kicker, a big cow with large teats and natural born kicker, she was a fence crawler as all the cows were and sometimes get badly cut on the fence barbs, then what a job to get her milked, but it made little difference as she would kick regardless. We had her for years then dad sold her to Ruvald, who had a dairy in S.F. and a good friend of the folks. I still remember how he talked to dad and how mad he was for selling him such a kicker and it almost broke up their friendship.
The horse barn as I remember was about 16 by 24 feet with room for 6 and one load of hay in the loft. It was made of foot wide boards running up and down, and the same used for the roof. Later a granary was built lean-to on the barn to the east, then later a buggy shed lean-to south on the granary and again later another lean to south for feed grinder. The cow shed extended west from the horse barn, with mangers on the north and south, with room for maybe 18 or 20 head. The sides were made of old boards running up and down, don't remember just how the roof was fixed to hold up the lay or long slough grass with which it was covered. It was built either in 1889 or 90 and used that way until a new barn was put up in 1902. The door was on the south side and each fall manure was banked to the ceiling on the south side a hay stack was usually put against the barn on the north and east then another stack west from that. All hay was carried in the barn by armfuls being first pulled out of the stack by hand. Dad would cut about a four foot long, two inch thick tree branch with a stub on one end from another branch, sharpen the end then use it to pull out the hay from the end of the stack. Final cracks on the inside were then plastered with cow manure. After a rain the cows were as wet as if being outside, and one needed a rain coat to milk which we did not have. Manure was pitched to the door, then from there to the pile outside, and hauled to the fields in the spring. Water for all livestock was pumped by hand, usually into a home made trough and made of foot wide plank which usually leaked. We never did have enough pasture for the cattle so every day they would break out, dad would fix the fence and next day were out again. Our corn was usually 1/4 or more destroyed by the cows, to say nothing of the damage done to neighbors, that he sometimes had to pay for. Made up my mind when I took over running the farm that either I would keep the cattle where they belonged and out of the neighbors fields or would not have any, so the first thing I did was to put woven wire and new fence around the three 40s we then had. I also paid for and had the tile put in at the time, Henry Rutsch doing the work and a very good job. In taking care of the milk, it was strained into shallow pans and crocks, set in shelves in the basement, then mother later would skim off the cream, then churned in a barrel churn.
One of the sources of income here was a garden. A hot bed was made just south of where the house stood and used mostly in starting early plants, early cabbage, tomatoes, pepper and cauliflower, late cabbage plants were started by sowing the seed in the garden, dad putting in most of his time in sowing, hoeing and cultivating. After radishes, onions (winter) lettuce, pie plant were large enough to use, mother made daily trips to town to peddle the things she had prepared the day before, leaving here before sunrise and calling first at the stores and hotels, whose policy was to buy from the first one that called, and competition was keen as I remember at least 4 others in the same business; later when through calling on stores, we (I went with her perhaps two years, one of which was 1894, the dry year) would head for Galesburg. She had a market basket for me and I would walk up one side of the street and she would take the other side. Most places at that time had a home garden, so was usually around 11 a.m. before we were sold out. I usually had some homes to call on while she was busy at a store or hotel, also remember, in the spring with plants to sell she would let me off about 8th St. and Indiana Ave. and I would walk north and call on the people as far north as the tracks, then walk to Galesburg and wait for her around 2nd Ave. and 11th St., remember one time I had 35 cents. Usually stopped for lunch at a certain place, and mother would give her some of the vegetables. On our way coming home she would count the money taken in, and as I remember it usually was around $2.50 to $3. Dad prepared the ground for late cabbage, tomatoes and other plants which were always planted on the low round south side of the road, and remember one year that 20,000 plants were set out, in rows wide enough for dad to cultivate with a one horse cultivator, then also hoed several times so were kept clean and no weeds. Occasionally extra help was hired to help with hoeing. As to planting, dad would get the ground ready, then wait for rain and then the whole family was put to work and sometimes Harry and Fred also helped. If no rain came at the right time, then water was hauled in a barrel on a stoneboat and each hole watered. The heads were then sold all during the summer but much of it was winter cabbage which did not mature till late in the fall. At that time, no fresh vegetables of any kind were to be had so most families would put in a supply for the winter, such as potatoes, cabbage, carrots etc. In selling the cabbage, dad would make daily trips, (sometimes I or mother would go along) using a two box lumber wagon and heaped full, and different devices were used in storing it in basements to make it keep during the winter. Part was stored roots and all, others would wrap each head in paper. Many trips were made before the last was sold with several wagon loads usually sold in East Sioux Falls where a lot of stone was quarried at that time. Much of it was also stored in the cellar, potatoes went in first, 2 or 3 hundred bushels then the space over them packed full of cabbage, squash, pumpkins which were then sold during the winter. Carrots, 75 or 100 bushels were stored separately. Cracked cabbage and damaged heads were made into sauerkraut, usually one or two barrels, dill pickles also by the barrel and all was sold during the winter. Usually planted two or more acres of potatoes, then wagon loads sold from house to house in town. Onions, set and seed, carrots, beets, peas, beans, lettuce, kohl rabbi etc. all required weeding and hoeing by hand, potatoes usually had to be sprayed several times for potato bugs, not a job like today, water was hauled by the barrel, then the proper amount of Paris green put in, than an old broom with the handle cut off was used to spray the poison, also used a sprinkling can. I tried planting some potatoes for a few years, for market, after I was on my own, farming, but soon gave it up, had an order for some at a restaurant one spring to deliver the next day, at 25 cents per bushel, then was turned down because they bought them cheaper.
Mother usually made horse-radish for sale and at first was all grated by hand on a small grater. Later they had a small enterprise, sausage grinder, which I fastened on a board and by grinding it twice, was in good shape to use. Had perhaps nearly a 1/4 acre growing, then a few times would buy a small patch somewhere and in the fall we would go and dig it up. The folks never sold any except pure, and boy was it strong, always my job to turn the crank; sometimes turnips are added to make more bulk.
Hog cholera was always to be feared in trying to grow pigs as there was no known cure and when it started, usually the entire herd was wiped out. A number of times, we lost the entire herd and they die one by one, all have to be buried as no rendering truck to pick them up. Digging a hole on a hot summer day to bury a 2 or 3 hundred pound pig is a job, for I have tried it. Dozens of different medicines were tried, all costing good money, some would mix pure lye with water or feed but nothing did any good until vaccination started, and still is used today.
As I remember there were no trees at all growing on the place when the folks came, so they started planting some soon.
Each year dad would buy as I remember two hundred railroad ties that were hauled home, stacked up and during the year chopped up with the axe and used for fuel, which with corn cobs, was all the fuel used. When I got older, chopping ties was mostly my job. At that time there were many tramps walking up and down along the track, stopping along the way for something to eat. Mother never tuned down anyone, but would usually have them chop wood while she fixed something sometimes coming in the house and eating at the table, and other times just several sandwiches, which they would take and go on. One of the first years here and nothing to burn for fuel, dad went over east to the river and asked the Olsens (two bachelors) if he could cut some trees. As I remember they showed him a plum thicket we could cut, which was done and hauled home and used for fuel. Mother used to make handmade slippers made of cloth with a leather sole, so later she made a pair for each of the bachelors. We never did burn cow chips but I helped Rudolph Miller out by the Wall Lake place, pick them up one time. For years here no coal was burned at all and no fire kept overnight, with nothing but an old range for cook stove.
Mother writes about them buying a new stove in 1896. I still remember coming home from school when it was set up and in use and it was a good stove, guaranteed for a lifetime. It was made with six lids, a drop door oven that was strong and a copper reservoir that held maybe 5 gallons. The water was heated by circulating through a hollow plate in the fire-pot, but as well water was used which was very hard, it was not long till it was filled solid with lime deposit. The stove was called a Home Comfort Range, and was bought off a wagon, from several that traveled in groups all over the country and stopped at each house. Rainwater was saved in barrels to be used for washing and sometimes hauled from a slough as the well water was too hard. Don't remember when the cistern was first put in, maybe in the middle 90's.
Occasionally, during the summer mostly, peddlers would stop with trinkets for sale, as I remember mostly Syrians, new comers just learning to speak English. They carried a box like case, maybe 24"-20"-18" deep, with a wide strap over the shoulder. It was always an event for us kids to see all the things they carried in a half dozen shallow trays, all dime store stuff today, pocket combs, needles, thread, pins, mouth organs, buttons etc. Later they had one horse rigs to drive, so could carry more and go farther; remember two Livingstons that used to stop here, were later in business in Sioux Falls and one is the father of that Livingston golf player.
School as I remember was for 8 months, 2 months, then two weeks vacation so children could help with the fall work, 4 months school, then again two weeks off in the spring to help with spring work. The school room had a soft coal stove in the middle of the room, with long stove pipe to the chimney on the north, and numerous times the teacher had to dismiss school when we were smoked out until the school board members would come and clean the soot from the stove pipe. The drinking water we would get from a well on the Simmons place, usually by two boys going during school time and in the forenoon. All the wells at that time were shallow and water pulled up with a rope and pail. Many times frogs were swimming in the water and occasionally a garter snake. We told the teacher we did not like to drink the water that had the frogs, but she told us they were healthy and not to mind. The next day we brought back several frogs in the pail of water, but she made us empty it and go back for another pail full.
The first threshing I remember was with an old horse-power, and owned by George Hamilton. Believe 4 two horse teams were the horses used with tumbling rods to run the separator over which the horses had to step in going around. The horse-power had a small platform on which a man stood to keep the horses going, and it's possible that six teams were used in place of four. The separator was fed by a man standing directly in front of the cylinder, putting in one on each side and a man or boy to cut the bands, a dusty and dirty job. I had that to do I believe on three jobs, the last of which was one the place where Wilkies now live, and to get there, had to walk. The threshed grain came out on ground level and was caught in half bushel measures. A chute setting on the ground held two half bushel measures, when one was full it was pulled out and the empty one put in place, a tally on the side of the chute would register when the full measure was pulled out, then the grain was all put in sacks, holding the sacks was usually a job for a boy or girl. An elevator was to take care of the straw but as it all dropped in one place it soon filled up so always it took from one to three men in the straw pile to keep the straw out of the way, a dirty job as I know. Sometimes a homemade hay bucker was used and all the straw was bucked far enough away and kept one man and team busy, then later burned up at the first opportunity. The Vandiver brothers bought the first steam rig that I saw and for years did most of the threshing in this community and running many years till well after cold weather in the fall. The steam rigs came out with self feeders, but it was still a few years before a satisfactory blower was made, with different designs being tried out. Bert, one of the brothers used to say "The only time anyone makes money is when the machine is running" and they usually kept it that way. At first there was very little shock threshing done, and the story was it first had to be stacked and go through a sweat so as the grain would keep, then each year a little more shock threshing was done. In stacking the grain, it was usually stacked in settings of four stacks, each stack holding from 6 to 8 bundle loads and set in an open space so as to take advantage of the wind when threshed. Many times a setting or more was stacked close to the barnyard so as to get the straw pile in a certain place, then if the wind was not right when threshed, it was a very dusty and dirty job. With the steam rigs, came also the automatic weighing and the grain dumped directly in the wagon box and hauled that way. Later much of the surplus grain was hauled directly to the elevator in Shindler, two were there at that time, and at times the wagons would be lined up over a block long both north and south, waiting to unload. At these times it took crews up to 20 men to keep the rig going, which made a real job for the cooks to feed that many.
For stack threshing usually from 7 to 9 men went with the machine, Charley and Burt, the brothers, engineer and separator man, Emil Muller water hauler for many years, then from 2 to 3 men pitching bundles from each side; they all stayed over nite, and with 3 meals a day. On a rainy day the bundle pitchers might want to stay or go to town, either walk or take them in the lumber wagon. A sleeping place was usually a problem but they usually slept in barns when available. Emil Muller hauled the water for many years pumping it from some slough, often going two or more miles for it. When working here he sometimes hauled the water from that pond, south-west across the section as that was one of the last ones to go dry around here. The tank was filled by hand pumping and made a heavy load so took a good team of horses to pull the load. Grain put in the bin was all shoveled by hand, usually with an extra man to help unload. I remember once seeing a steam engine that was fired by burning flax straw, using a fork with iron handle, like the one I have here.
Some of the first corn was planted with a hand planter, in rows made with a home made marker, with runners shaped like a sled and spiked to a plank, and 4 or six rows marked at a time. Henry Luhrs then had a horse planter, which I helped to use one time, took one man to drive and the other to push a lever back and forth to plant the corn. Don't remember how the first grain was sowed, but to cover it they went over with the walking, one row cultivator, and then gone over with a homemade drag. About the time I took over running or rather doing the field work, dad bought a used, 7 foot disk with seeder boxes and that was used for a number of years, a poor excuse for a machine, but probably as good as any made at that time. The two chains on the outside, to run the seeder were open causing a lot of trouble from cornstalks, the frame was made of wood, so had numerous breakdowns.
Prairie chickens there were many, more so than pheasants have ever been, and were hunted commercially for a few years. They stay in coveys so a hunter with a good dog can soon get the entire covey, for when flushed, they fly maybe 30 or 40 rods and light in a bunch again. Plowing south from here one spring day, a number of roosters were around, booming that peculiar noise they make, and close by, remember one time one of my horses stepped on and killed a hen sitting on a nest of eggs. After cold weather in the fall, they would bunch up in large flocks, up to several hundred, and would be more wild.
There were many sloughs or ponds around and many ducks which stayed all summer, also many geese in the spring, alighting awhile on the flight north. Remember the section boss one time shot some in that pond, this side of the track, northeast from here. Some Bobwhite quail were around but were more numerous along the river.
As I remember soon after 1900, dad bought a used McCormick corn binder and decided that all our corn would have to be cut, shocked, the corn picked from the shocks by hand, then the stalks used for feed, a real job. First cut the corn, shock it, tie the shocks, pick up the ears over the field, after cold weather open the shocks, sit there all day picking out the corn, taking half of the winter to finish the job, twice the work from picking it in the field. Then Nick Stoffels came around with a corn shredder which picked out the corn, the stalks, and blew them into the haymow, which was in the new barn.
The new barn built I believe in 1902 was 24 by 48 feet, with a 14 foot shed the full length of the barn on the north, and I think had 12 foot sides. The east end of barn had room for 8 horses, standing north and south, next 16 feet of grain bins,, with an alley way in middle of barn and the west 16 feet for cattle. There was no foundation put in, the sills set on stones, the only way to get to the north grain bins was to back a wagon into the shed. Underneath soon proved an ideal place for rats. Also built a corn crib set on railroad ties, another fine place for rats, and so there were plenty. Caught some in traps, then a story was out that by beating on tin cans with a loud noise, and do this several times around midnight, the rats could be scared away, so that was tried several times (how dumb can people get.) The corn crib was used till 1915, when the crib west of the house was built.
Dad would sometime feed two steers, tied up, in the barn till sold and all feed and water carried to them. Remember one time he sold them to be delivered at a slaughter house north-east of S.F. but the job was how to get them there, as we had no wagon box to hold them. The job we had is hard to even imagine, they were not used to being led and was a long trip after being tied so long. Tied one to each side of the wagon using halters and ropes, using several so if one broke another would still hold, and did several times, and such a trip I will never forget.
Prairie fires were always to be feared, and there were many started along the track when the train went by. In the fall, as soon as the fields were cleared, the section boss would get some one to plow two rounds along both sides of the track, and about 100 feet from center of track, then later burn this strip for fire guard. About the worst one that I remember, was set by the train and started on a dry windy day, about south of where the school house stands. As I remember they either stopped the train, or they came back with the engine from Shindler, and the train men came to help put it out. I was not allowed to go over, but Kate told of carrying water to wet the sacks, used in trying to whip out the fire, when one of the train men's clothes got on fire in the back, and she poured the pail full of water over his back to put it out. It burned a barn on the Simmons place and over 5,000 tons of hay before put out near East Sioux Falls. A fire was burning one time off to the south-west, so dad started out after dark to walk and find out if it might come this way. After walking and getting no closer, decided to go back, then soon discovered he was lost, finally ran into a haystack and stayed over night. Many straw piles were set on fire and burned at that time and an old pile will burn a week or more sometimes, then if a hard wind comes up, burning pieces can be blown quite a distance across plowing and still start a fire.
One of the real chores at that time was turning the grindstone in haymaking time, the mower had a 5 foot cutter bar, and at least twice each day the sickle had to be ground on the grindstone, usually after diner and what seemed like an endless job. Another tiresome job was turning what dad called a hexal machine, of which we had two, the second one supposed to be an improved model, and believe the only I have ever seen. It had two knives rotating like on a silo cuter, turned by hand and used to cut dry hay and dry cornstalks, a useless piece of equipment. There was no alfalfa grown at that time and was unknown, being introduced many years later.
Numerous times in the summer time, the boys in the neighborhood would go to the river on Sunday morning for a weekly swim, some one would drive a team hitched to a lumber wagon, or those that had bicycles would go that way. Also in the spring and after a hard rain, there were several holes along the track, deep enough to swim, one north on the Meritt place, and the other on the south side of the Heiden farm. Sometimes after Sunday school, the boys went down there for a swim.
The old wagon we had and used for many years, was mostly junk, as seems like the tires were always loose and had to be wired on to keep them in place, dad would have the tires set then would soon be loose again. It was used till 1907, when I bought our first good wagon with a good box, which I paid for. Hauling hay was also different, as hay racks were made without sides. The wagon box bed was made of 2/10 or 2/12 inch plank, with 4 2/2 inch holes cut near the bottom, then a 2/4 end was cut to fit in the hole, then extend over and rest on the plank on the other side, and left wide enough to nail on several boards. These were used for a few years till someone got the bright idea to make a rack, and soon all were made that way.
I was always made aware that it was my duty to stay at home and work till I was 21, working without pay, after that dad paid me $200.00 a year, for three or four years then 50-50 for one or two, after which I paid cash rent, $200.00 a year and I had to pay all other expenses, taxes, up keep, repairs, etc. etc. Used to haul hay uptown to sell on the public market, which was located on the west and south side of the street at 11th street and Philips avenue, with sometimes a dozen or 15 loads parked there and all waiting for a buyer, at from 7 to 10 dollars per ton or whatever you could get. In order to save 25 cents, the cost of dinner, I would buy a nickels worth of cheap candy and get by with that, till later in the P.M. when I got home.
For many years, many people in town kept a cow to milk and pay for them to b herded during the day, during the summer season. Ted Davis, who later worked in the post office, till he passed away a few years ago, was one of the boys doing the herding. In the morning, the boys would around town, gathering up the cows, then they were herded east from the Milwaukee railroad tracks and south past 26th street, then in the evening were taken back to town.
For a number of years, in the winter time, the meat markets around town all had cotton-tail and jack rabbits, hanging up outside, which people would buy. Much of the butchering was done on the farm, remember one time in the summer dad sold a beef which was butchered and left hanging, while they had lunch or dinner, don't remember which, but do remember there were a lot of flies on it later when he left. It is hard to imagine today, how difficult it was in the hot summer days, trying to keep meat fresh, with no refrigeration except ice, and it was years before the average family had even an ice-box. Keeping pork here on the farm, it was cut up in pieces, bacon, hams, etc., then put in crocks and covered with strong salt brine where it was left for a time, then hung in the smoke house where it was smoked a number of days, till a dark brown then packed in a barrel in the basement and covered with rock salt, and it was good. Some of the markets in town had their own slaughtering houses, one was located east on Rice street, and north along the river near the first bridge, hardly sanitary from today's standards.