The McCormick binder, another great invention, had been oiled and greased. If the canvas apron was torn, Mamma mended the holes while Papa patched up the wooden cleats. Stretched out on the lawn, the apron looked like a giant slab of spareribs. Once repaired, it was replaced on the binder, ready to carry bundles of grain after they had been automatically tied with binder twine which trailed from a round tin container on the side of the binder. A large supply of twine was purchased at the local hardware store each year in advance of the harvest season, and stored in the tool shed.
As fast as the golden bundles of grain were tossed from the binder onto the stubble, the hired man piled them up in rows of teepe shaped shocks. Shocking grain was considered an art, for there was a certain "knack" in "setting shocks" as the maneuver was called. Rye and wheat were set in round shocks, and an extra bundle tossed on the top acted as a rain cap. Oats were built with 8 or 10 bundles leaned against each other, and looked like a row of tired rag dolls.

The hired man was neat as well as ambitious, for he carefully placed the shocks in rows, making them appear like a regiment of soldiers standing at attention. The grain shocks were a perfect place for children to play Indian. Pretending they were wigwams, we crawled inside, having great fun. However, this greatly aggrevated the hired man for he had to reset the shocks.

There was a great deal of work to be done in advance of threshing day. A small tank held water to fill the boiler, and was placed near the spot where the steam engine was "set."Beside the water tank, and against the garden fence, a long row of cord wood was piled up, ready to fire the boiler. In addition to the wood, there was a heap of coal to keep the fires burning during the night for an early start the next morning.
The "threshing crew" owned the steam engine and seperator and moved it around the community to harvest grain. In fairness to the farmers, the starting point was changed each year. The schedule was indefinite, for weather conditions and the size of crops determined their movements from farm to farm.
Long before they came to the foot of our hill, we heard the puffing and gasping sounds of the engine as it chugged along pulling its entourage. The wide iron wheels made a grinding sound on the gravel road and traced deep grooved patterns in the sand. We smelled the acrid smoke and thrilled at the fiery sparks spurting up with the black smoke belching through the sieves as it spiralled from the chimneys of the steam engine. Leashed behind the engine was another huge beast, the separator, usually painted bright red, with yellow lettering on both sides. Attached to the separator by a long wagon tongue, was the water wagon. It wobbled from side to side and bumped along as if it resented being last on that train of machinery.

Every man was in his place. Out in the fields, themen, using three tined pitch forks, tossed the bundles of grain onto the hayracks. One man drove the team of horses, another systematically layered the bundles, tier after tier, to a towering height on the hayrack'. There were 8 or 10 wagons loading at all times, driving back and forth from the fields to the barns. At times the horses, frightened by the spitting and chugging of the engine, and the rattling of the separator, shied sideways and spilled a load of grain. After the bundles were pitched into the hungry jaws of the separator, the teams returned to the field. It required a continuous train of wagons to keep the equipment in operation.

The granery crew consisted of several men. Two tended the grain chute, one tied bags, and others hoisted them along the line where they were piled in stacks or dumped into the wooden bins of the granery. Some farmers ran the grain from the separator into wagons which hauled it to the granery. As the golden grain poured from the chute, it looked like a flowing river. Most farmers chose to handle the operation of the grain chute themselves, in order to keep an accurate record of the number of bushels of each kind.
The engineer and his assistant fed cord wood into the hungry firepot under the boiler. This formed a head of steam to drive the belt which propelled the separator. He kept a constant watch over the pressure guages regulating the engine, stoked the fires and pumped water from the well into the auxilliary water tank. His work was most important,for without power all operations ceased.
The "tender" or "grease monkey" as he was sometimes called, kept a constant vigil over the operation of the 34 or 36 inch separator and its intricate system of belts and moving parts. Covered with grease from head to foot, his tool of trade was an oil can with a spout about 15 inches long.
The smell of new straw filled our nostrils as we waded waist deep in the loose chaff scattered and mounded into banks at the edge of the strawpile. We were awed at the endless trail of straw shooting from the mouth of the blower. It reminded us of a circus elephant swinging his trunk from side to side.
The man in charge of the straw stack turned up the collar of his blue cambric shirt, tucked the tails deep inside his striped denim overalls, tied a blue calico handkerchief around his neck and with pitchfork in hand, was ready to build the base of the pile. He turned his back towards the blower, blinked his eyes and braved the blasts of straw spewed from the blower with great force. Finally emerging from the dust and chaff, spitting, coughing and rubbing his swollen, red-rimmed eyes, he made a beeline to the pump for a drink of cold water to sooth his parched throat.

As for the ladies, they played one of the most important roles on threshing day. The week before threshing, a special trip was made to town to purchase supplies. The large wagon was arranged with two seats near the front for the ladies, and Papa was at the reins. Coal and kegs of beer were placed in the rear part of the big wagon; groceries and meat in the egg cases under the seats; and children were sandwiched between the grownups or sat on the floor.
Appetites of threshers are hard to describe. In addition to three square meals a day, there were the 10 o'clock lunch in the forenoon, and sometimes the 3 o'clock lunch in the afternoon, and an early supper to send the neighbors home in time for evening chores. Work ran from 10 to 12 hours a day for field hands, fifteen hours for the "crew" who operated the equipment, and as for Papa, Mamma said he slept with his socks on during threshing time.
Promptly at 10 a.m. the engineer blew three blasts on the whistle and stopped the machinery. That was the signal for the field hands and barn crew to come up to the house for lunch.

The windmill was in operation all forenoon to pump cold water over the kegs of beer floated in wash tubs. There was a chorus of hurrahs when Papa popped the bung on the first keg and invited the workers to turn the wooden spigot to sample the they lifted their glasses high and clinked them for a bumper harvest of grain. The foaming brew bubbled over the edge of the glasses and left a white ring on "handle bar" mustaches, or dripped down curly beards. The men strolled over to the house to have lunch. Out on the lawn, under tall shade trees, clean red and white checkered tablecloths were spread over wide boards on wooden horses to serve as tables.

Meanwhile everything was buzzing back in the hot steaming kitchen, where the Majestic range was the center of interest. Thick, juicy apple pies, baked early in the day, were set the window sills to cool.

The lunch tables were cleared and the twenty-five pound beef roast in the big Savory roaster, required basting and turning. Vegetables were prepared and stored in the warming oven at the top of the stove. Large kettles of potatoes were peeled, waiting their turn to be cooked on one of the six griddles of the stove. Mamma checked the woodbin, stoked the firepot and kept the heat at a proper level at all times, and of course the coffeepot sat on the back of the stove ready to fortify the cooks if they found a spare moment.
The dining room table was stretched out and extra leaves were added to accomodate as manypeople as possible. It required two or three sittings to feed the threshers and the kitchen workers. In addition to the regular dining room chairs, the six cane seated parlour chairs were pressed into use. To add additional seating space, two wide boards were placed across two sturdy kitchen chairs. Children were served the very last and sometimes bemoaned the fact that all the pies had been consumed.
Long before noon the delicious aroma of roast beef, savory vegetables and hot breads, wafted its way from the kitchen to give the children hunger pangs which were always appeased by several of Grandma's thin, white, sugar cookies.
Everything had to be ready when the engineer blew the steam whistle at noon to call in the field hands, for threshers had ravenous appetites. The men strolled up to the house from every direction; some checked the time by pulling their Ingersoll watches from the pockets of their bib overalls; others stood around, spitting, cussing or chatting about the weather, prices, cattle and crops.
Before dinner the wash tubs were set up on wooden benches out in the yard, with wash bowls and pitchers and pails of warm cistern water, soap and towels. The men lined up and took turns as they scrubbed their dusty faces with their hands, rubbing most of the dirt off on the towels. Eager to satisfy their appetites, they filed into the dining room for dinner.
Their plates were heaped high with thick slices of roast beef, fluffy mashed potatoes and they spooned generous helpings of brown gravy over all. Nothing was served in courses, and they reached their long arms out in every direction to supply their needs. Bowls of crisp cabbage salad, baked beans, and home cured dill pickles dipped from the crock beside the summer kitchen door, were placed in the center of the table The men usually held slices of buttered bread of biscuits or Johnny Cake in one hand, and with the other cleaned up two or three plates of food in short order. Large wedges of apple or lemon pie were passed and served from the tins. Rice pudding, swimming in cream, dotted with plump raisins, came to the table hot from the oven.
Grandma made the rounds of the tables with the big blue and white granite coffee pot. Aunt Etta kept refilling the bowls with food, and Mamma, dripping with perspiration, kept everything going at an even keel while presiding over the cook stove, slicing juicy slabs from the huge beef roast and dishing up extra potatoes and gravy.
After a long afternoon of threshing some of the men went home early to do their evening chores, while others worked until dark and stayed for supper, thus there were less men around the table for the evening meal. Sometimes if it was late in the day, the kerosene lamps were lit. They cast their rosy glow overall and gave the rooms a cozy feeling.
No royal banquet table could equal the variety of tempting food, the hospitality andwarm friendliness of the threshers eveningmeal. If the young Rhode Island roosters were large enough to kill, the supper menu might include delicious fried chicken. In that case Papa would chase up the roosters before daylight, catch and kill them, for that was not ladies work. Back in the summer kitchen, the chickens were plucked, dressed out and placed in cold water until later in the day when they bubbled away merrily in rich butter or lard in the big cast iron frying pans on the kitchen stove. What a tasty delight!
Along with the fried chicken there were platters of sliced, home cured boiled ham, bowls of potato salad, cottage cheese, apple sauce and beet pickles. For dessert, Jello with real whipped cream skimmed from the milk cans the previous day. Papa knew his milk test would surely go down with Mamma using so much cream.

Making cakes for threshers was like a baking contest at the county fair. The ladies baked all their old favorites and tested others that were copied from magazines. Along with the usual jelly-roll dripping with rich fruit filling, there were sponge cakes. Lady Baltimore with a nutty topping and the old family favorite, white layer cake topped and filled with a thick layer of whipped cream. The cakes were cut in generous slices, but grandma always left a quarter of each cake unsliced in hopes the cooks would get a taste. When the cake was passed to Uncle George who had a huge appetite, he would take the quarter of cake, saying "Gosh Delia, you sure do cut some big pieces of cake."
With most of the work completed, there was time for fun, and the engineer invited the children to climb aboard the steam engine. What an experience! They sat up on the engineers seat under the big canopy, studied the guages, the oily pistons and valves and as a special treat were invited to give a tug or two on the steam whistle. It's piercing sounds frightened the children as well as some of the teams of horses tied at the fence during suppertime. They jerked and stomped, pulling the wagons sideways, jingling their harness, and tearing the flynets as they reared up in the air.
When the threshing was finished and all the neighbors returned to their homes. Papa settled with the "crew" and they moved on to the next place to thresh. We joined him after supper as he carried the lantern down to the barns to survey his symetrical straw stack. Pleased with the harvest and the shape of his nice strawpile, he did not feel the ache in his tired bones or the itching and scratching of dust and chaff under his clothing.
At bedtime, everyone gathered around the kitchen table to relive the day. The ladies, confronted with all the leftover food, phoned friends and invited them to dinner the following day, for nothing ever went to waste.
In those "days of yesteryear" our neighborhood consisted of people of several nationalities; English, Irish, Polish, German and one Norwegian, our hired man. All emigrants, or sons of emigrants, this beautiful blend of people spoke in various tongues and brogues. With names like Hayes, McInnis, Polinski, Anthony, Bauman, Longley, Friesch, Mattke, Brendos and Baneck, their conversation, at times, sounded like the Tower of Babel. Industrious, tolerant of each other and grateful for the privilege of freedom of speech and religion, they worked shoulder to shoulder using the implements and machinery of the new age, to develop our great country, their chosen homeland. Looking back on the scene, I realize that it was truly an early American United Nations, where the common man helped to build the foundation for tomorrow.

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