Richvale, California: Dennis Lindberg, 86. Rice farmer.

Well, I was born here in 1924.  On July 23rd, 1924.  When I was a senior in high school I grew my first rice crop as an FFA project.  I bypassed college and all and went to the School of Hard Knocks or whatever you want to call it.  

This year I planted my 69th consecutive rice crop.  Somebody asked me when I hit 50, "well aren't you gonna retire?"  And I said, "Hell no!"  I've been very fortunate in those years.

 In the spirit of welcoming the unexpected, let us leave the midwest in the sweltering last days of July and fast forward through a few states to an interview that took place in Richvale, California.

Richvale is nestled north of the fertile fruit and vegetable valleys that supply many of us non-Californians with carrots and lettuce in the winter months.  The first farmers to inhabit Richvale tried to persuade wheat to grow here, but the climate and terrain were unsuitable for that crop.  It wasn't until Dennis Lindberg's father started farming the land around 1911 that he and his peers realized this land was perfect for growing rice.
  
I have a great respect for my father and other people who settled this community in the years beginning '11, '12, and '13.  We just celebrated our 100th anniversary of the founding of Richvale.  They came here to what was primarily wheat land.  And not very good wheat land at that.  There was some farms established that'd been abandoned.  Well, then a group out of the San Joaqine Valley Realty Firm came up here and formed what the called the Richvale Land Colony and they started promoting, selling this land.


This was as early as '09 and '10, if you will.   Rice was just in its infancy in California at that time.  The first rice was grown in probably '09 or '10 on an experimental basis down and out west of Gridley from what I understand.  Then, of course, as things went on, by 1915 the land developers were gone.  They grabbed their money and left, if you will.  

So it was left to our founders to get an irrigation system.  It didn't have proper drainage; there were a few wheat farmers out here, and when they were farming rice it would leak out onto their wheat, and of course they didn't like that.  And there were no improved roads.  So our founders went through a living Hell, if you will, till they got something established and founded this [BUCRA].  This facility was founded in 1915.  My father was one of the founding members and on the original board of directors.


So, I feel a great debt of gratitude in those of us of second and third generation to our forebearers, forefathers, who founded this community and provided a place for us to do something with our lives.

 

 Dennis, or "Denny", as he is known in his community, exudes excitement, an abundance of civic pride, and a passion for growing rice.  As a hobby he also grows watermelons of generous proportions.  He and his son, Gary Lindberg, farm about 400 acres of rice in this region of around 500,000 acres.  We were connected to him, for all intents and purposes the local historian, by Jim Morris at the California Rice Commission.

The Butte County Rice Growers Association (BUCRA) building where we met Dennis also contained evidence of his artistic abilities; the front waiting area had one of his hand-fashioned metal duck sculptures featured.  He creates these metal ducks with different themes (the Fire Department Duck and the Evangelist Duck, for example) and sells them as fundraisers for the town of Richvale.

It's a city without a real city government, if you will.  They call me kind of the ipso facto mayor around here.  I don't live here anymore; my son lives on the farm.  We live over in Thermalito.

Richvale had been a boom town that could have been on its way to busting in the early 1900's, but its citizens wouldn't hear of it.  When the economy started tanking back then, and the townsfolk were abandoned by the developers, this hamlet rolled up its collective sleeves and started planting rice and helping each other get through.  There is a definite Bedford Falls feel here and Dennis could easily play the role of George Bailey, town enthusiast and champion.  The fire department, a local cafe, and schools are operated and maintained in a large part through donations and volunteer power from the community.  Dennis describes his town as a "self-help community."

 

When asked what he'd like to see change in agriculture, he spoke, among other things, of the need to remind people that this rural Californian community exists out here, producing an incredibly important food crop.  He references Lundberg Rice, a neighbor who specialized in organic growing (no relation, by the way, between the Lindbergs and the Lundbergs.  Both families were early settlers here):


Public acceptance that we're out here.  And we want to remain here!  We got to keep this commerce going.  You know, out at Lundbergs, there's 250 employees in that facility over there.  Right here at Butte County we must have 50!  We got an irrigation district with 12 employees, we got a drainage district with 4 or 5, we got a school...you gotta keep those things going.  And rice is what's doing that in this case.  I want to see that continue.

 

Like some of the other farmers we've talked to, Dennis relates how much technology and equipment has been improved over the last decades.  He is working on his 69th rice crop this year and he grows a short-statured variety.

When the Lindbergs got their first harvester it could harvest in a day what a brand new harvester could do in an hour today.  Denny used to let his fields lay fallow every other year but demand has become so great for rice that he plants every year now.  Water rights are an issue we heard many farmers express concern about, but Richvale has impenetrable water rights that keeps the ever growing population of southern California off their backs.
  
I saw this industry...I consider it a privilege...I'm 86 years old by the way...I got to see horses working in the field as a kid.  I've seen this industry come from the horses and the hundred-pound sacks to stationary harvesters.  I even pulled the bundle wagons if you know what they are.  They put the rice in shocks about so big around, and you went around with a bundle wagon, pull it with a tractor.  When I was 13 years old, pulling that bundle wagon out and over to the harvester, where you unhooked and went and got another bundle wagon.


In those days they hired transient workers, hobos if you will.  They were coming out of Oregon and Washington up there in the grain harvest.  They'd hit here about October.  Well, come Saturday night or if it rained, you paid 'em off you didn't always see 'em again!  {laughs}  So my dad had to get me out there one bad winter in 1937 when I was 13.  So I got exposed to some of that and I begged to continue.  I though, "boy, this is cool, man!"  Not that I didn't enjoy school.  I was a good student; I was a straight A student my first two years, but then I got more interested in farming than I did school.

Lundberg Rice, also based in Richvale, is the leading grower of organic rice in the country; Dennis mentions that they "put this town on the world map".

Dennis estimated that 60% of the rice grown here is sold domestically, and 40% is exported.

 

Like most farming communities, time is made and set aside for recreation, especially if it involves agriculture.  Before we hit the road, Dennis drove us out to his rice paddies and just beyond, where he has his watermelon patch.  Every year he grows 4 or 5 gargantuan melons to be used in a weight-guessing competition; whoever is closest to the actual weight takes the melon home.  Travis and I were sworn to secrecy (melons have been stolen in the past) about the location of the patch, and Dennis took us to a seemingly overgrown portion of his field.  After furtively glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he surreptitiously bent down and pulled back a layer of grass to expose the promising green-striped shell of a watermelon already the size of a mini-refrigerator.  As quickly as it had been uncovered it was inconspicuously tucked back into its hay bedding and Dennis straightened up and had us renew our vows to keep mum about the location of the watermelon.

 

As a parting gift he gave us two lesser melons and the sparkling wisdom of a man who has seen his fair share of harvests- "when you cut 'em open they should go 'snick!'- that's how you know you've got a good one!"  

A few weeks ago, Dennis wrote to us again to update us on the aforementioned watermelon.  Below is the 90 pound monster.  Dennis' son, Gary (right) and Donald Rystrom (left) each guessed within a pound of that.

 

Read the full interview after the jump, including stories of growing up in rice country and facts and opinions about the industry...

Update: Harry Young, one of our interviewees passed away this week.

 Harry Young, one of the farmers interviewed for this project, passed away this week in Kentucky.  Our previous write-up of the interview is here.

Harry was a fascinating fellow, 83 years old, with a unique situation.  He has been fighting to get his land and honor back after he was forced off of his lifelong farm and it was auctioned off.  Much of our discussion was about the hardship of being a small farmer, his frustration that this could happen over what he says is a financial misunderstanding, and about the racism that he felt in the area.

An author and friend of his, Monica Davis, provided the following readings associated with his life and struggles.  It's worth a read, especially for people such as myself who were raised in a very different region:

 82-year-old Black farmer arrested, charged with making terrorist threats, May 17, 2009.

Black farmer files lawsuit to regain farm with $750000000 in coal deposits.

Land, Legacy and Lynching: Building the Future in Black America, a book by Monica Davis.

And, a summary of our visit with Harry for the Stewards Project. 

St. Louis Missouri: Stephen Inman, New Roots Urban Farm

It was a sultry, humid evening in St. Louis when we arrived at the urban farm project maintained by Stephen and a core group of a few other volunteers.  The farm is planted on a postage stamp lot and has a greenhouse, chicken coop, and picnic table toward the rear.

"I'm more prone to calling it a garden this year.  Before it was like, "don't call it a garden!  It's a farm!"

We sat at the picnic table and watched the sun set on the abundant crops while Stephen told us about the challenges and perks of being an urban farmer.  This garden has been functioning for about seven years and Stephen told us the story of the four individuals who got New Roots going.  Everybody is a volunteer and they have initiated or helped with several other food and social justice projects in St. Louis.  The produce that is harvested supplies an impressive number of CSA boxes for its size and it barely pays for the next season of the garden's existence.

It is difficult to operate not knowing if the yield will bring in enough money for another season of planting and harvesting, but that is the reality of most farms, rural or urban.  One of Stephen's goals is to have this garden produce enough to pay for a gardener who will lead the project and volunteers, since that position doesn't exist right now and the garden is run on hopeful volunteer labor and luck.  The volunteers do get to walk away with some of the food, but the whole project started when the founders realized that they couldn't afford their own produce on their rural farm outside the city.  A garden that won't sustain the folks who work it seems doomed to failure, or, at the very least, ironic.

Despite the typical volunteer and practical urban issues, the kale is looking lovely, and as we sit chatting with Stephen a few neighborhood folks wander in to check on the crops and do some harvesting, thankful for this abundant gift of food amidst the hustle and bustle of the city.  We watch the sun set and the city sky turn purple over the distant skyscrapers and abandoned brick neighborhood buildings...

Click here for Stephen's story in his own words...

Council Grove, Kansas: Don and Doris Cress

On a hot Sunday morning, after sleeping at the Canning Creek Cove campground in Kansas, we pulled into the small town of Council Grove.  The town, located roughly between Salina and Topeka, is historically significant for being a key stop on the Santa Fe Trail.  As such, we were not surprised to find ourselves having breakfast at The Santa Fe Cafe, eating a remarkable breakfast burrito.

The Santa Fe Cafe had just changed hands and a family of four was there to greet us and take our order.  Our waitress looked to be about 9 years old and when we ordered 2 breakfast burritos she scrunched her forehead in thought and put her pencil to the order pad and scratched out "2 brayfast blotos" then happily skipped back to the kitchen where her dad was waiting and whispered loudly "Two breakfast burritos dad. But I didn't know how to spell that."

The burritos, or blotos as we now call them, arrived and they could have fed an army with as much eggs and vegetables as were stuffed into that fragile tortilla.  She came back to get our empty plates, offered each of us a raspberry candy and then went outside to hail in the passing motorcyclists that were roaring through downtown slowly on a Sunday morning drive.  There were swarms of motorcyclists out to take advantage of this beautiful bluebird day, and, as we left, a few came in and took our place to order their own blotos.

Trav and I decided that our next course of action would be to go to church, as we figured those Kansans who weren't riding around on their motorcycles would most likely be in a church on Sunday morning, and we wanted to meet people.  I called my dad, who is a minister, to consult and see which denomination would be most likely to have the best snacks and we ended up going with the Presbityrians.

There was a great time of singing and then we sat through an interesting service in which a woman told of her recent experience with a missionary school in Guatemala.  A youth group rafting trip that had been planned for the day before had been cancelled, so as we filed out of the sanctuary we grazed on all the Subway sandwiches that would otherwise be doomed to perish, as well as some excess cucumbers from a parishoners garden.  Between bites we introduced ourselves to the minister and got to telling him about our project with farmers.  With a light in his eye he snapped out his cell phone and called two church members who had just retired from their farm and moved into town, being 91 and 87 years old.

Don and Doris Cress are the oldest farmers that we had the pleasure of interviewing, and their stories about how things used to be were a pleasure, a history and a warning all at the same time.

Click "read more" to see what they had to say in their own words.

A Thank-You Letter to everybody even slightly involved with this project.

 

 Many apologies for the vast delays in our blog updates!  We still have many farmers to write about, from Kansas to Oregon, and from Monsanto to Farm-To-School folks.  Kacy and I have both been doing plenty of writing, but neither of us are efficient at transcribing it into the internet yet.  We'll improve!

Just before Christmas we spent some days writing thank-you notes and hand-addressing envelopes to every farmer we interviewed, as well as most of the people we stayed with and the individuals who connected us with farmers along the way.  I'm sorry if some of you whom were key in the project have not received yours; we actually ran out of the postcard I created, which is pictured above.  

Each envelope included this postcard with a personal note on the back, a copy of the individual's portrait when appropriate, and a one-page letter drafted by Kacy, which is shown below.  I took the rather large stack of letters to the post office on December 23rd; I thought, "well, I've organized them by state, to help out the postal workers during this holiday rush."  Feeling like a good samaritan I presented the box to the woman at the counter, and she said in a definitive southern drawl, "Aw, that's sweet of ya, darlin'...but they all get dumped in the bin anyway."  And with a "whoosh!", my carefully organized pile joined the glittering mass of holiday cards and packages, bound for points across the world.

Thanks to everyone involved in the project!  Please read the letter below for an update on our process.

New years resolution: post on this blog at least once a week.

                                                                  Stewards: Stories and Perspectives on American Agriculture
                                                                                                Trav Williams and Kacy Spooner

Winter greetings!

We hope that this note finds you well and warm as December settles over your farms and towns.  Some of you are good old friends and others are people whom we met only briefly for an interview this past season.  This is a hearty Thank You! for being a part of our project; it’s also an update of our progress.

We traveled across the US this past spring and summer, interviewing farmers, ranchers, and other agriculturalists; our intent was to collect a diversity of views, perspectives, and creeds and to publish these conversations as an archive of modern agricultural thought.
In the end, we spoke with over 160 farmers, ranchers, scientists, homesteaders, veterinarians, viticulturalists, historians, seed-savers, editors, and agents.  We traveled for about 6 months on 12,500 miles of gravel and asphalt, seeking out characters and farmers of all types; we ended up with over 350 hours of recorded conversation, from Maine to California.
The youngest farmers were working on their 4-H projects in Illinois and studying sustainable agriculture in Maine.  The oldest were selling their farm in Kansas at the age of 94 or were documenting their own heritage in California.  Some farmers had made their fortunes; others were losing their property or struggling to get started.  Farm sizes ranged from tens of thousands of acres of rangeland in eastern Colorado to ¼ acre lots in St. Louis and Denver.  Some farmers stressed localized and diversified operations, while many others focused on a single crop that was distributed worldwide, such as soybeans.  The diversity within our larger agricultural community is amazing to us.
When we asked the question, “What should the role of the farmer be in our society?” a large number of people included the idea of “stewardship” in their answers.  The working title of this project was “Portrait of a Farm,” but we are now leaning towards the title, “Stewards: Stories and Perspectives on American Agriculture”.

This winter we are working on obtaining further funding that will allow more interviews to take place and allow for a more complete project.  We are transcribing those many hours of recorded conversation and pursuing potential publishers; we’ve begun proposing a book concept, but we will not likely have made publishing decisions before next summer.
You have helped us by either telling us your story, sharing your resources and connections with us, or providing a place to cook food or rest our heads during this trip.  It has been our honor to collect your unique perspectives; we hope that they will touch and educate those who read them.

Besides the interviewees themselves, we’d also like to thank the folks who helped us find farmers; Cooperative Extension and Farm Bureau agents were particularly helpful, connecting us with numerous people and organizations.  We could not have been nearly as thorough without your help. 

At the conclusion of our trip, we decided to settle in western North Carolina for the time being.  We are thankful to be in such a beautiful place.  Travis is working with photography in Asheville and Kacy is working on farmland preservation with the Agricultural Economic Development Office in Polk County.  We are happy and we’re counting on spending lots of time this winter working on this project and musing about the past and the future of American agriculture.
There’s a good chance that, in the next few years, you may find us settled on the farm Trav grew up on in Oregon, but we shall see.  The soil there is fertile and the history is strong.  We will continue to keep you updated about any significant progress on this project, but if you have any questions in the meantime, or if you’d like to continue to have a dialogue, please feel free to contact us anytime.

Within a day or two of today, dozens of farmers and families across the US are opening this same letter as winter approaches.  Whether you are snowed in up in Maine, prepping soil in California, or watching your apple trees turn inward for the winter, know that you are a significant part of a complex and necessary system that keeps us all going.  We hope that all of you and your families are well, that your crops did well, and that next season will be lucrative and satisfying. 

Thanks for telling your story--                                     --Kacy Spooner and Travis Williams

Berger, Missouri: Wayne and Joy Carl

In rural Missouri, The Carls were sitting on Joy's John Deere mule when we approached them. Joy Carl is 79 and Wayne's uncle.  Wayne is Joy's right hand man on the farm. Joy showed us pictures of the county geography from an old atlas that was falling apart in his hands; he pointed out his farm and how the flooding and droughts over the years have changed the topography. In Missouri people often talk about "The Bottomlands" as an ideal area to farm, though much of it has been developed into towns and lots. 

He has also seen a lot of his contemporaries drop out of farming due to floods and development, but Joy can't think of anything they'd rather be doing than farming. One thing Joy is sensitive about is the negative media attention farmers have been receiving lately. There are a few bad apples out there, but according to these men it is rare to find a farmer who would mistreat his or her animals. Joy thinks that most farmers treat their livestock with more consideration than they'd treat some people with, but that's not what society at large sees.

Berger is a town that is no longer a town; Joy reflected on the days of his youth when it has all the amenities...banks, stores, cafes...but as we left and asked which direction to town, they replied, "that way...but you won't notice."

Union, Missouri: Richard Schmidt

Coming into St. Louis was a huge change from rural Illinois; luckily we had a place to stay with Carrie, my mother's best friend in the world. She offered us refuge from the unrelenting heat of July in the city.  She also offered us pizza and the name of a farmer friend of hers, Richard Schmidt.

Richard and family are about 15 miles outside of St. Louis in a wealthy looking subdivision. He raises and sells beef now, but got started with food in a culinary setting. Richard is a former chef and restaurant owner who wanted to move away from urbanity in St. Louis. He found the countryside of Union and decided to try his hand at raising "good beef." That is, beef that doesn't take antibiotics, that graze for most of their food and eat grain that is grown locally.

Richard lights up with pride when he speaks about his cows, and he told us about the first cow he raised through the whole process of birth to slaughter to food. Right now Richard has seven cows, and he brought us to the barn to meet a few of them. They turned out to be shy and skittish, but Richard assured us that they get very used to him and are sweet and friendly. This business venture has proved profitable for Richard; he reports that in the 3 years he's been selling beef the public has been very willing to pay a higher price for natural beef. There is a desire to age gracefully, and having a new son keeps Richard conscious of his and his childs health.

He sent us on our way with some hardy beef jerky.  We had no cooler with us and it was 100 degrees, so we devoured it quickly to the delight of our tongues and the confusion of our mostly vegetable-filled stomachs.

Freeburg, Illinois: Tom and Pat Range, Braeutigam Orchards

Just as we were about to cross the state line from Illinois into Missouri we hit upon a gem for our project and our taste buds: Braeutigam Orchards run by Tom and Pat Range.  We really had intended to simply pick up some fruit, but as soon as we began chatting, Pat took us over to a wall covered in old family photos.  The stories started coming, so we sat at a picnic table and collected them.

They are the 6th generation on this land and obviously a holdout; the highway runs adjacent to their property and from atop their hill you can look down at the encroaching subdivisions. As we pulled up to the market at the orchard, we looked across the parking lot at a nanny goat with her babies, one of which was standing on top of her. These are the Range's fainting goats, on loan from a neighbor. The goats are a part of the agritourism that draw crowds to the orchard to pick their own peaches, blueberries and thornless blackberries. When fainting goats are startled their muscles involuntarily contract and they topple over like statues.

This orchard was started when Pat's ancestors were struggling with taking their ripe peaches to the markets and getting paid next to nothing for them. Someone had the idea of selling the peaches right from the farm, and that's what happened. The farm has a big open air structure with baskets of peaches, berries, tomatoes, peppers, pumpkins and freezers with local milk and cheese and home processed jams and jellies. There are picnic tables outside and after you pick your peaches you can buy cider slushies made from the farms apples and cool off in the shade before heading home. The Ranges have worked hard to make this orchard a destination as there are other, bigger orchards in the area that attract crowds as well. Far from resenting the urban sprawl all around them they have marketed in those neighborhoods. Tom will drive down through the streets with his tractor picking up folks who want to come pick pumpkins in the fall. After all, as Tom points out, who better to bring into the farm than those who have yards planted with grass and may not have ever climbed in an apple tree.

While we are talking at one of the picnic tables a couple drives up who would like to pick some peaches. Tom leads us out to the orchard where the trees are all heavy laden with huge golden and red globes. While we look for a good place to take their portrait he picks two New Haven peaches and cuts them up with his pocket knife for us to try.  There is a certain deftness with which an orchardist wields a pocketknife, born of many years leading pickers down the aisles of trees.

The peaches have a buttery sweetness and they melt in our mouths. As we head back to the table Tom picks us two more of a different variety and gives us strict instructions as to how to eat these peaches. They are Madisons, and to really get everything out of them you have to pull off the skin, put a slice on the roof of your mouth and crush it with your tongue so you can drink the peach; I can see why Tom speaks so reverently of the experience after trying a Madison this way.

Tom and Pat have kids and grandkids who already help on the farm, and will continue to run it after the elder Ranges retire. The counter is worked by high school students from the FFA agriculture classes that Tom teaches at the public school. When asked about the future of agriculture in America, the Ranges are confident that it will continue to be important as we can't survive without it. They have also seen a jump in people who care about farming even if they have no farming in their background.

As with many interviews, the topic of organics and pesticides comes up, not instigated by us.  Many farmers, especially orchardists feel the need to be defensive about their practices due to heavy media scrutiny.  The Ranges avoid overusing chemicals, but sometimes they simply must spray; but they are intelligent and selective about their usage.  Pat pointed at Tom and said, "Here you have a man who sprays...but we eat the fruit."  I recalled Reggie Rowell in Tennessee, who articulated the issue of customers wanting organic apples, but also apples without spots, damage, or scars.

Before we take off for Missouri Tom tells us that in order for each person in this country to eat 5 servings of fruit and vegetables every day farmers would have to plant 13 million more acres of produce. As the health of many Americans deteriorates and diet is more and more linked to disease prevention it seems natural that people will put down processed food and pick up an apple. Or a delicious, buttery peach.

Red Bud, Illinois: John Howell, Gateway FS Inc.

The rain was pouring down and we were driving around with no interviews scheduled for the day but keeping our eyes open for the spontaneous opportunity. It came in the form of John Howell, a farm consultant at Gateway FS Inc., which is an agricultural chemical company that operates as a cooperative in the area. If you conjure up images of what you think a young Illinois farmer might look like you'd have some version of John Howell: very tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet but forthright demeanor.

We dropped in just as the rain really broke, and inquired about local farmers we may be introduced to.  The secretary said, "Well we got one right here!  Hey John!  Come meet these people."  He uneasily agreed to let us interview him, occasionally shooting the secretary who had let us in dirty looks.  John  had recently graduated with an agricultural degree and helps on his family's farm besides his day job at FS.  He loves farming and also knows the reality that his family farm can only support so many people so he is grateful and happy to work the FS job in conjunction. One of the main components of his job is to have test plots that analyze the productivity of the fertilizer the company is selling.
 
John reports that the results are usually positive; crops are more productive and the belief is that they would be in even better shape if they there wasn't a drought happening in Illinois right now (despite the pounding rain at the moment).  He reflects on his grandfather's era, when corn production may have yielded 40-60 bushels per acre.  That volume has dramatically increased in the past century, doubling in just the past 30 years.  John tells us about some tests recently that have been breaking records and that we will see 250+ bushels per acre in the next decade or two (currently we see around 160-180 bushels/acre average).

He realizes that the common opinion of agricultural chemicals is negative in the public eye, especially in urbanized areas.  He calls himself a realist and opines that the world will not be able to feed itself with organic methods considering our population boom.  John makes the point that we either need to stop developing farms so that they can continue to meet the needs of the world (farmland preservation is a hot topic all over the country), or we need to figure out how to grow 300 bushels of corn on an acre that is only producing half that now. Which is what he's doing with his products and research
 
Many people are familiar with the "organic methods will not feed the world" argument.  Popular media is severely slanted against high-production farming and many Midwestern farmers seem to feel demonized and misunderstood by non-farmers.  They are, in general, experts at their trade, pulling corn or wheat or soybeans from their land every year for much of their lives.  They are keenly aware of the issues that exist around ag, and will always remind you that they do not abuse their land or overuse chemicals for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it's foolish to think that they would seek to destroy their own property, which happens to be their source of income.

As we talked to John I was reminded that farmers are divided about the reality that U.S. (and worldwide) farmland will not be able to sustain our population as it explodes. There are people like Hector Black and Jack Lazor who just want to grow a little healthy food and let the earth rest, and there are those who look into the future and fear what they see there: hungry Americans without the know-how or space to grow their own food. For those who want to prepare for the crisis they see coming, they vigorously try to protect fertile land, and they push it to grow at max capacity so that when a food shortage happens communities will not starve to death.  The jobs we do and the niches we fill are varied, and the complex system of trade and transport that has developed in this nation is complex.  That system gives Midwest farmers a responsibility to feed their own community as well as foreign breadbaskets.  They don't take that responsibility lightly.

Benton, Illinois: J. Larry Miller, Farm Bureau

Benton, Illinois has a lovely library staffed by warm and helpful folks. Upon telling the librarians about our project they consulted and came back to us with a list of farmers whom they thought would be willing and beneficial participants for an interview.

We spent a good chunk of that humid, hot day in the library.  We happened to read an article in the paper by Larry Miller, Farm Bureau agent, and contacted him for an interview as well. Larry was willing and we met him at his office the next morning.

Farm Bureau provides all sorts of services to farmers, ranging from insurance for crops to political representation regarding governmental land and farm policies (it varies state-by-state). Larry fell mostly into the latter category- he is responsible for researching and weighing in on laws that will effect how farmers in his community do business. As a farmer himself, Larry understands the issues personally as well as pragmatically. In Larry's opinion it would be best to get politicians out of control in policy making and let farmers have more control over the methods they choose to farm with. This probably sounds scary to people who don't know or trust the people who grow their food, but I believe Larry thinks this would be the best way to farm because people here are neighbors, not strangers.

Larry spoke highly of the apprenticeship programs that are becoming available as many farmers are aging without heirs to keep the farm going. The programs match younger people without the means to buy/rent a farm with older farmers who wish their farms to remain farms but have no one in line to take it over after their retirement.

Illinois farming has been particularly hit hard in this recession; the university extension budget has all but dried up and in some parts of Illinois one extension agent services 5 counties. Farm Bureau and other farm-advocate organizations have been similarly affected.  700,000 people leave Illinois every year and part of Larry's goal is to figure out ways to make farming and community here lucrative. If the farmers can't survive in Benton the prognosis for the town will be dire because as Larry said "farming is the backbone of this community."