Old farm remains upright 125 years after its origin

Richard Shank circles the farm, sitting atop the Oliver 99 tractor purchased new by his father in 1950 CREDIT RICHARD SHANK

By Richard Shank

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This week seemed like a good time to drive to New Cambria in Saline County to check out the goings on at the Shank farm. 

Significant rains, two words foreign to this area’s vocabulary during the past three years, have returned, creating a lush green look to the area, barely a stone’s throw from Salina. During the past two weeks, nearly six inches of rain have fallen on what we call the Solomon River Valley. 

As the farmers say, the rains make everything grow from the rows of new corn to weeds, which are a part of every farm. 

On June 5, we will host approximately 25 retired Southwestern Bell/AT&T Managers at the farm for a lunch and reunion. Most of us have been retired from the company for 15 or more years. We were always a close group, and I am certain many old stories will be shared. It was my good fortune to have known and worked with this group for most of my 30-year career.

The farm where I spent a part of my formative years is holding up well, 125 years after it was established in 1900. The barn, built in 1920 with a loft, remains upright with a few sags here and there. Most farmers have abandoned or abolished their barns as these buildings are out of date for current trends in livestock production, but the Shanks kept theirs. 

Coincidentally, a wind storm in 2022 with 100-mile-per-hour, non-tornadic winds resulted in the loss of roofs from a trio of buildings less than 15 years old, but the old barn withstood the storm and was undamaged. These days, we use every inch of the barn to park three tractors, a hay rack, a plow, and other items essential to the farm operation. 

A visitor to the farm once told me the barn has “character,” which is reason enough to keep it.

Ninety-one years ago, a previous owner installed a rare three-legged windmill south of the barn. Most windmills were manufactured with four legs, so one has to assume a previous owner saved a few dollars by purchasing a windmill with fewer legs than the norm. I assume four legs provide more stability to the windmill during high winds, which are common to this area. 

When the Shanks purchased the farm in 1962, the windmill was no longer used and was missing its top or what is sometimes call the wheel. In 2022, we replaced the wheel and although it no longer pumps water, it now looks more like it could. On breezy day, the wheel goes round and round. 

Purchasing a wheel for an old windmill, is more proof that, for a fee, one can purchase anything these days. 

To the southwest of the barn is the farm’s original shop, whose age is unknown but assumed to be approaching the century mark. After purchasing my siblings’ share of the farm following my dad’s death in 2003, I had to decide what to do with the old building, particularly after purchasing a new custom-built shop from Sturdi-Bilt in Hutchinson. 

From all indications, the shop was resilient and refused to fall down, leaving no alternative but to save and fix it up. A new roof, doors, and a layer of tin on the exterior made the aging structure look somewhat new. As one pundit said, the tin sides and roof covered up a multitude of sins. 

The shop’s interior could be described as primitive at best. The workbench consists of several planks sitting atop two barrels. The top of the bench is covered with multiple layers of grease and oil from decades of repairing generators, alternators, and who knows what else. The walls are covered with nails to hang items including several generations of fan belts, chains, and tools some of which may have adorned the walls for almost a hundred years. 

Underneath the shop table, are several tubs full of bolts and parts with the original intended use known but to God. 

When visitors ask about the farm’s history, I enjoy showing them the old shop to see firsthand how our ancestors repaired their equipment. These days, the shop is used to store a pair of plows. 

Two round granaries built to store 1,000 bushels of grain remain on the farmstead and are no longer used for their original purpose. We do use one to store lumber. I guess one could call the second  granary “yard art.” If one thinks long enough, one can find a use for any building. 

An 800-square-foot machine shed has a story of its own, along with a feed house. Both were built in 1932 on my dad’s homeplace one mile to the north and moved to this farm during the 1960s. Today, the contents of the machine shed look much like they may have 70 years ago, with everything from a Farmall H tractor to an Oliver plow. 

East of the barn is the family garden, which includes watermelon, potatoes, cucumbers, and pumpkins. Spring rains have increased the chance of a crop. This week, the potatoes are blooming, the last step preceding maturity. 

Growing up on this farm, I remember that, if possible, we planted potatoes on March 17 (St. Patrick’s Day). Legend says planting on that day might result in a better crop than usual. This year, we missed St. Patrick’s Day by one day, and we are hoping it will not jinx our chances for a good crop. 

The farmhouse, a part of which was built 125 years ago, in 1900, looks like it could last many more decades. 

Dr. Isaac Culp, who spent his retirement years (1916-27) owning this farm, built a huge porch on the home’s east side, with not less than 13 windows. All owners since have probably wondered why he needed so many windows to see out. Also, he built what we call a west wing on the house including an upper level with one room, which includes the largest walk-in closet I have seen in my lifetime. 

A tiny garage, one can assume, was built for a Model-T Ford car, and it was too narrow for modern vehicles, but there was no previous owner, nor did the Shanks opt for an expansion. During the farm restoration, we put new doors on the front of the garage along with a layer of tin on the exterior. My hired helper commented that the old garage, after 100 years of usage, only leaned one-half inch to the north, more proof that buildings constructed 100 years ago were built to last.  

Several new buildings now stand on the farmstead and perhaps look too modern compared to the originals. 

Writing in the 1930s, author Tom Wolfe said, “one cannot go home again,” meaning nothing will be as one remembers it to be. Driving out the 600-foot driveway and motoring down the sand road in front of the farm, I caught myself looking back and saying, “There must be one exception to Wolfe’s pronouncement.