I recently reread W. O. Mitchell's 'Jake and the Kid' which is a collection of short stories telling of the adventures of a prairie boy and the family's hired man on the Saskatchewan prairie during the 1940s and '50s. For anyone who grew up in that era and geographic location it is a trip down memory lane bringing to mind the simplicity of life as well as the difficulties that prairie drylanders had to face, having to rely on one's ingenuity, neighbours' aid, and just plain luck to thrive and survive.
Our family also often had hired men during the seeding season and sometimes right through to harvest. I am not certain how they came to be 'hired men'. Perhaps they had placed an ad in the Western Producer or it was by word of mouth that Dad was able to get in contact with someone who would be willing and mostly eager to work on a mixed farm for low wages and room and board.
We had a wide range of men coming and staying with us. They would be lodged either in the little house trailer in the yard , or in the basement bedroom , and sometimes even in the upstairs 'spare' room. Some had their wives and children with them, which proved exciting for us kids to have another family live right in the yard. Other men had strange and 'secret like' backgrounds. Some seemed to have come from other small communities and others came from far away. A few Hungarian refugees came over to the prairies to become hired men after the government trouble overseas during the mid 1950's. Another fellow came from Switzerland. He was traveling Canada to research which type of farm he was going to buy. And yet another brought with him more than was expected; a gun and a bottle. The last I heard was that he was serving 10 years for manslaughter. There were no mandatory Criminal Record Checks in those days.
I generally have happy memories of these temporary 'family members' that came in and out of our family home. They often came along to social gatherings at the school or to visits with neighbours for an evening of playing cards. Sometimes they would be left behind to assure that the evening's chores were done. I vividly remember after a hot day at the lake returning to the yard and seeing Jack standing under the yellow porch light with a white milk frothed pail in hand on his way to the cream separator. When I think of it he probably had enjoyed his Sunday time alone in the quiet of the prairie away from prying family eyes with the only work expectation being to milk the cow on time.
Sometimes these hired men not only worked on the farm but acted as makeshift babysitters. I specifically remember tagging along with the Swiss hired man as he walked the fields stucking sheaves. I was five at the time and when a hail storm blew up he put me into a stucke so I wouldn't get hit by the falling pieces of ice. He stuck his head into the stucke too...him and the longest greenest fattest worm I have ever seen as well.
I also sometimes had to make supper for the hired man if mom was called away to the city or couldn't be back in time. Putting my 12 year old imagination to work it would be invariably greasy fried eggs and brown beans on the menu , maybe accompanied by a can of ready cooked spaghetti and a bowl of ice cream for dessert. What went through those poor men's minds when they found out they were at the mercy of a 12 year old cook and a frying pan after a long hot dusty day of pulling a cultivator with a tractor without a cab is something one does not probably want to imagine.
Sharing a house with complete strangers was not always a great experience. One fellow used to make such a mess in the washroom, mysteriously shredding bits of toilet paper all over the floor. Some didn't take as much personal care in their hygiene but to be fair water from the cistern was a precious commodity and baths were rare treats. Usually their presence in the house was a quiet one. Someone extra in the living room. Someone else coming and going in the yard. Sometimes they would get a visit from relatives, maybe even a long distance phone call once in a while.
There was one fellow, a never married bachelor of an age older than my parents, who slept in the basement and returned to the farm regularly for about three or four years. He would pull into the yard, with the only running Studebaker I have ever seen, in May and disappear to Town somewhere for the winter. This lean and graying fellow would quietly come into the living room in the evening to watch television. For some reason it became my habit to make coffee for him (instant) and bring it into the living room on a tray with cream and sugar. After a few times of this little ritual between us, this rarely speaking fellow on occasion would wait in the kitchen after supper and help dry the dishes when it was my turn to wash up. This is the same fellow that caused a bit of a giggle when my sister and I spied him perusing the Eaton's catalogue which in itself would not ordinarily be cause for a giggle except that he was looking at the Lady Bra/Panty/Nylon/Girdle section of the catalogue. We ran to Mom and told her. I can't remember her comment but it is my distinct impression that the Eaton's catalogue was kept in the back cupboard after that.
I am sure that most times at the end of the harvest season Dad never heard of these transient workers again. They sort of disappeared from my history and ultimately ended up making a life somewhere else perhaps in the next community, perhaps they got work in the city, or perhaps they started their own businesses and had hired men of their own.
Other fellows became long time friends. We would hear from them through Christmas cards and surprise visits. One fellow more than once brought a bag of candy to the house at Christmas time. The Swiss fellow brought his parents to visit so his mother could see a prairie sunset. Another came to my mother's funeral after a 40 year absence.
The hired man was an integral part of the success of our farm and many others as farm acreage grew with too much work for one man to cope with along with machinery not big enough to do all that needed to be done so it could be done on time and in time for the right time. These fellows worked long hours, for little pay with no benefits. They rarely had a day off unless it rained. They slept where they were told and ate what was put on the table. They heard little praise for work well done and could risk losing their job if they decided to cultivate instead of harrow, drove the grain truck too fast or got the tractor stuck in a slough. Sometimes they got paid regularly and sometimes they would have to wait until the quota opened.
One morning the neighbourhood was all astir as three of the newly arrived hired men on different farms had all disappeared at the same time. Some piggy banks from one of the farm family's had been broken into, and some tools had disappeared. It seemed these fellows had had enough of Prairie Farm life and had taken off for greener pastures elsewhere.
I do know that I benefitted from the having these men pass through my childhood. I learned about geography and heard foreign languages well before many of my classmates. I was even introduced to some foreign food recipes that were shared with my mom...try soured whole milk with sugar on it sometime...a Swiss delicacy. I saw the value and respect given to anyone with a good work ethic and the consequences for those who did not. I realized also that not everyone had their own house and family.
Being a hired man in Saskatchewan in the 50s and 60s was often the only choice a young man with limited education had when it came to employment but their contribution to the culture and success of the community was every bit important as any politician, storekeeper, or school teacher of the day.
Some names I remember: Chris, Don, Louis and family, Jerry, Delmar, Leo, Ed, Jack, Jimmy, Harry, Jim, and Hans.
Our family also often had hired men during the seeding season and sometimes right through to harvest. I am not certain how they came to be 'hired men'. Perhaps they had placed an ad in the Western Producer or it was by word of mouth that Dad was able to get in contact with someone who would be willing and mostly eager to work on a mixed farm for low wages and room and board.
We had a wide range of men coming and staying with us. They would be lodged either in the little house trailer in the yard , or in the basement bedroom , and sometimes even in the upstairs 'spare' room. Some had their wives and children with them, which proved exciting for us kids to have another family live right in the yard. Other men had strange and 'secret like' backgrounds. Some seemed to have come from other small communities and others came from far away. A few Hungarian refugees came over to the prairies to become hired men after the government trouble overseas during the mid 1950's. Another fellow came from Switzerland. He was traveling Canada to research which type of farm he was going to buy. And yet another brought with him more than was expected; a gun and a bottle. The last I heard was that he was serving 10 years for manslaughter. There were no mandatory Criminal Record Checks in those days.
I generally have happy memories of these temporary 'family members' that came in and out of our family home. They often came along to social gatherings at the school or to visits with neighbours for an evening of playing cards. Sometimes they would be left behind to assure that the evening's chores were done. I vividly remember after a hot day at the lake returning to the yard and seeing Jack standing under the yellow porch light with a white milk frothed pail in hand on his way to the cream separator. When I think of it he probably had enjoyed his Sunday time alone in the quiet of the prairie away from prying family eyes with the only work expectation being to milk the cow on time.
Sometimes these hired men not only worked on the farm but acted as makeshift babysitters. I specifically remember tagging along with the Swiss hired man as he walked the fields stucking sheaves. I was five at the time and when a hail storm blew up he put me into a stucke so I wouldn't get hit by the falling pieces of ice. He stuck his head into the stucke too...him and the longest greenest fattest worm I have ever seen as well.
I also sometimes had to make supper for the hired man if mom was called away to the city or couldn't be back in time. Putting my 12 year old imagination to work it would be invariably greasy fried eggs and brown beans on the menu , maybe accompanied by a can of ready cooked spaghetti and a bowl of ice cream for dessert. What went through those poor men's minds when they found out they were at the mercy of a 12 year old cook and a frying pan after a long hot dusty day of pulling a cultivator with a tractor without a cab is something one does not probably want to imagine.
Sharing a house with complete strangers was not always a great experience. One fellow used to make such a mess in the washroom, mysteriously shredding bits of toilet paper all over the floor. Some didn't take as much personal care in their hygiene but to be fair water from the cistern was a precious commodity and baths were rare treats. Usually their presence in the house was a quiet one. Someone extra in the living room. Someone else coming and going in the yard. Sometimes they would get a visit from relatives, maybe even a long distance phone call once in a while.
There was one fellow, a never married bachelor of an age older than my parents, who slept in the basement and returned to the farm regularly for about three or four years. He would pull into the yard, with the only running Studebaker I have ever seen, in May and disappear to Town somewhere for the winter. This lean and graying fellow would quietly come into the living room in the evening to watch television. For some reason it became my habit to make coffee for him (instant) and bring it into the living room on a tray with cream and sugar. After a few times of this little ritual between us, this rarely speaking fellow on occasion would wait in the kitchen after supper and help dry the dishes when it was my turn to wash up. This is the same fellow that caused a bit of a giggle when my sister and I spied him perusing the Eaton's catalogue which in itself would not ordinarily be cause for a giggle except that he was looking at the Lady Bra/Panty/Nylon/Girdle section of the catalogue. We ran to Mom and told her. I can't remember her comment but it is my distinct impression that the Eaton's catalogue was kept in the back cupboard after that.
I am sure that most times at the end of the harvest season Dad never heard of these transient workers again. They sort of disappeared from my history and ultimately ended up making a life somewhere else perhaps in the next community, perhaps they got work in the city, or perhaps they started their own businesses and had hired men of their own.
Other fellows became long time friends. We would hear from them through Christmas cards and surprise visits. One fellow more than once brought a bag of candy to the house at Christmas time. The Swiss fellow brought his parents to visit so his mother could see a prairie sunset. Another came to my mother's funeral after a 40 year absence.
The hired man was an integral part of the success of our farm and many others as farm acreage grew with too much work for one man to cope with along with machinery not big enough to do all that needed to be done so it could be done on time and in time for the right time. These fellows worked long hours, for little pay with no benefits. They rarely had a day off unless it rained. They slept where they were told and ate what was put on the table. They heard little praise for work well done and could risk losing their job if they decided to cultivate instead of harrow, drove the grain truck too fast or got the tractor stuck in a slough. Sometimes they got paid regularly and sometimes they would have to wait until the quota opened.
One morning the neighbourhood was all astir as three of the newly arrived hired men on different farms had all disappeared at the same time. Some piggy banks from one of the farm family's had been broken into, and some tools had disappeared. It seemed these fellows had had enough of Prairie Farm life and had taken off for greener pastures elsewhere.
I do know that I benefitted from the having these men pass through my childhood. I learned about geography and heard foreign languages well before many of my classmates. I was even introduced to some foreign food recipes that were shared with my mom...try soured whole milk with sugar on it sometime...a Swiss delicacy. I saw the value and respect given to anyone with a good work ethic and the consequences for those who did not. I realized also that not everyone had their own house and family.
Being a hired man in Saskatchewan in the 50s and 60s was often the only choice a young man with limited education had when it came to employment but their contribution to the culture and success of the community was every bit important as any politician, storekeeper, or school teacher of the day.
Some names I remember: Chris, Don, Louis and family, Jerry, Delmar, Leo, Ed, Jack, Jimmy, Harry, Jim, and Hans.
