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Mike CA
08-26-2007 21:25:48
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The previous owner of my H sent me this.
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1944 McCormick Deering model H tractor
In 1951, we moved to a new farm. Our ‘olde’ farm was on the side of a hill and we had only three acres of tillable soils. Our tractor consisted of a chopped down model A Ford truck. It had two transmissions, so it could operate at farming speeds. Traction was terrible, It never ran, or at least when it did, it ran under extreme protest, and never for long.
In 1951, we moved to the ‘New” farm and Dad purchased an Allis Chalmers Model B tractor. That tractor was used for all task, plowing, cultivating, haying, and even a little ‘custom’ work of plowing gardens in town. (That was I source of spending money, $3 per hour, boy, gas, and tractor. WOW, I was big time)
It was on this tractor that I learned to drive. I could plow 6.5 acres with a 16” single bottom plow in about 14 hours. I could cultivate our 13 acres of sweet corn in about 12 hours. It would pull the manure spreader and bale hay trailer. The “B’, as we called it, would provide the belt power to grind feed, cut fire wood, and blow green chop into the silo. The ‘B’ served us well, but left home in the 60’s
But the worst job it could not help us on. Cleaning the barns. And in the winters in Washington, the cattle and hogs spent a lot of time in the barn. Wheelbarrow and pitchfork time. Every morning, every evening, and all day Saturday, cleaning barns. Ugly job, but it had to be done.
But wait, Dad went to town and purchased a mighty McCormick Deering Farmall H with a Farm Hand loader. That was the smoothest tractor. 5 gears and it would do about 18 MPH on a good paved road. With the loader attachment, it would clean several barns and pens, but not quite all of them. It would plow in third gear and pull two bottoms at that. Wow, our live got simpler.
When Dad went to purchase this tractor, it stood on steel wheels. When this tractor was built it was during World War II. The war was in full swing and there was no rubber left over for frivolous things, such as tractor tires. But Dad new better. The year was now1955 and tractor tires were available. So Dad would purchase only if it was fitted with rubber tires and wheels. How I remember the day that shiny, bright, big, handsome tractor came to our farm.
Now, this is where things get a bit sticky. You see, the front end of this tractor stood on ONE rubber tire and the two rear tires. But to get inside most of our barns, we had to place the rear tires very close together. And when you had a scope full of manure, the tractor got just a bit tippy. You were never in trouble if going slow, straight, and with the scoop down. But if you got into soft soil, or had to turn a corner while lifting the scoop, that tractor could turn ‘dirty-side-up’.
It only turned ‘dirty-side-up’ once, because the loader was mangled and would no longer work. So off came the worthless loader, and back to cleaning the barns by hand. But the ‘H’ was still my favorite tractor. By the time I was 13 or 14, I would race the other ‘guys’ in the neighborhood, always using tractors. I NEVER LOST. That is until the Tichnor’s purchased a 450 Farmall with a TA (torque-amplifier). That Jim Tichnor delighted in beating me, since I had done so to him many times (They had a model ‘B’ John Deere with only two cylinders that tractor was about 2 miles per hour slower than my smooth “H” and besides, it made a lot of noise).
Once I took the tractor into the wood lot behind the big pasture. There were some old dead trees hung up in some good live trees. Dad decided we could use the dead trees for fire wood. I got several of them out by pulling on then with a chain attached to the tractor. Later, I went back by myself to get the last one. I guess I hooked onto it wrong, because when it came down, it hit me up the side of my head, making for some tense moments. When all was done, that old dead snag had dented the gas tank, bent the steering wheel, as well as remodeled the side of my head. Later, the gas tank was fixed, but my head and the steering wheel still carry the scars
Well, as boys do, I left the farm for education and the big city. Dad got older (He was always older that Methuselah, but now his age started to show). The farm burned down and Mom and Dad went to live in the city. Tore Dad’s heart out.
Then one day they announced the farm with the barn and chicken coop, had finally sold. I cried that night. Then next morning, I phoned dad, asking what was to happen to OUR ‘H’. He said he was going to have it hauled off as junk as the buyer wanted nothing to do with that old thing. I lamented to Dad that he “couldn’t just junk out our great big lovely ‘H’. I reminded him that we had sweat bullet to purchase that beautiful, powerful “H”
Dad was a bit cold heated when he said.” Well, if it means that much to you, you better come from the big city, get it, and take it home”.
My wife screamed ‘WHAT’, when I made the announcement. I was wondering if it would be “either-or” situation at our house. But she finally agreed to let me have what I had never given up.
A couple of month went by before I and a friend and I started to Olympia on our mission of mercy. We got a backhoe to help up boost the ‘H’ atop a one-ton Ford flat bed truck for the 785 mile ride to its new home. But we had to make a detour in Cottage Grove Oregon. Seems as if that Ford V-8, 400 CI engine had its last fatal gasp. $2,500 and several days later, we were again on the road south.
Once we arrived in Modesto, we set about to put it into ‘new’ condition. (New condition for a farmer is a coat of paint and patch the tires). We went all the way and put new decals on too.
We got the tractor done in time for a ‘tractor’ show in Ripon CA. A friend brought his kids, a girl about 12 and a boy about 5. I taught the girl how to drive in first gear and she disappeared. She re-appeared about two hours later, walking. Seem as if she ran it out of gas. But she knew how to drive, and she would never forget that day. Her little brother sat on my lap, trying to steer, but he just did not have the power. But he would not ‘Holler Uncle’. The Stockton newspaper came by and the two kids got their picture on the front page of the Sunday newspaper, sitting on my tractor.
A few years later, I went back to a class reunion. There was an old school chum of mine. We got talking about old time, and as always, talk turned of tractors. He mentioned that his uncle was the one who sold that ‘H’ to Dad. He went on to say “Heck, I’ve still got the rear steel wheels that came off your tractor”. Seems as if they went into a corner of the old barn, and had not been discover for 40 years or better. In a heart beat, we had a deal and I tied those in my truck, heading south.
Time have changed, and so do people. Mom and Dad are gone. My kids and grandkids have no such memories as do I. The tractor that was such a big part of me has been setting out at a friends place, out in the weather. I’ve no place to store it, and I’ve gone to other thins in my life. In a few years, the ‘H’ would be rusty and worthless, unless someone else comes along to ‘Treasure, honor, and protect and enjoy….’
It is time to now let go of the “H”, and turn it over to the next generation of ‘old tractor lovers’ It is only by setting it free that it be able to stay and give enjoyment. And now it has another little boy (and his little boy) to enjoy the finer points of and old tractor.
Ira
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