This Little Fork, Minnesota farmer was tired of state road plows burying his mailbox beneath 10 foot drifts. So he used his noggin and attached the mailbox to a log boom, resembling an old-fashioned well sweep.
A well sweep is a device used to bring water up from a well. The term “sweep” refers to the long pole which is lowered until the bucket on the end goes down into the well and fills with water. Because the pole is anchored in the middle on another pole, creating a fulcrum, it can be counter balanced, thus making it easy to raise the pole, and lift the bucket from the well.
And never confuse a fulcrum with a philtrum–that groove above your lip that Millennials pierce.
The milk isn’t sour, but the looks on these lasses sure are. The middle makes the picture. A bearded geezer and a man hoofing a canister. Love it! AJ Earp took this pic in 1905 at the Cliff Owen dairy farm in Winchester, Kentucky. The milk was probably raw and definitely whole. I don’t trust folks who drink skim.
Lyda Benton of Ringgold, Georgia (whose CURRENT population is just over 3500) ladles some wellwater to her brother, who won the state’s Outstanding 4-H Boy title–and consequently, that shiny tractor upon which he happily sits.
This Nebraska teen may know how to drive a tractor, but she certainly doesn’t know how to don sunglasses or a ballcap to keep that dreadful sun out of her eyes. Let’s hope she applied some Bain De Soleil for the St. Tropez tan…
These are the last of the salvaged Progressive Farmer ads, and two of the only color ones in the otherwise dull beige magazine. It sure enough does catch the eye. The girl with the twinkle in her eye, the baby chicks, Mom’s head-to-toe modern ensemble–not worn by any farmer’s wife, I can assure you. Here’s the whole thing:
As I don’t often ever come across the word “leghorn” in my daily life, I was reminded of Foghorn Leghorn, the Warner Bros chicken from back in the day.
Also in the magazine, in the same brilliant color, was another ad for raising chicks, with a view of the “brooder room.”
At first I thought indignantly, “Well, it wasn’t cage-free 75 years ago either!” but then I realized you have to provide clean, dry, comfortable quarters for birds throughout the year and not let them roam about to be stolen by wily foxes.
So there you have it, folks: the last of the farming ads of 1939. And remember–chickens were waaaaaay smaller (and healthier) then. See for yourself.
Oh, you guys, I just hate it when my old magazines get too brittle and crumbly to keep. Such is the case with my February 1939 The Progressive Farmer. So I post this ad from it before it hits the trashcan, and part of it will live forever.