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21 Auction
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163 Allan Clayton’s fatal heart attack in mid-August had come as a surprise to everyone. Just two days before he died, he had delivered a pickup load of cucumbers to the pickle factory, and he and Andy had talked about what it was like ten years ago, when World War II had ended and farmers were just getting back on their feet. He had seemed perfectly healthy, tall, thin, and trim. He had told Andy he was planning to increase the size of his cucumber patch to maybe an acre next year, as long as the price of cukes stayed reasonably good. Andy said he had no idea about next year’s cucumber prices, but was pleased the prices had stayed up during the current season . “Price depends on lots of things—how pickles are selling, how many tons of pickles Harlow has in stock, how the cucumber crop is in other states.” The two neighbors talked for more than a half hour as Clayton’s cucumbers were sorted and weighed, and the check was made out. “You planning to stay on the home farm, Andy?” Allan had asked. 21 Auction “Yup, I plan to do that.” “You’re different from my kids. They got to be city people. Seem to like it in the city. Like the bright lights, I guess,” Allan said, laughing. “Sounds like they’re doing well, making lots of money.” “That they are,” Allan said. “But there’s more to life than making money. Something about living on the land that’s in my blood.” “Mine, too,” Andy said. “I could never leave the farm, funny as it may sound.” “There’s not many young people like you anymore,” Allan said, folding his cucumber check and putting it in the top pocket of his bib overalls. “Don’t know what’s going to happen to this country. Young people moving off the land. People like Jake Stewart buying up hundreds of acres.” Now the bill for the Clayton auction had been thumbtacked to the pickle-factory bulletin board for a week. Andy studied it nearly every morning when he came to work. He couldn’t believe that his friend had died, just like that. With no warning. Andy had gone to school with the Clayton kids: Henry, now an attorney in Milwaukee; and Cindy, an accountant in Madison. The two kids couldn’t wait to graduate from high school so they could leave the farm; it was obvious that they wouldn’t be coming back to take over the home place. Iris, Allan’s wife of forty years, had no choice but to sell. She planned to move to Madison and live with her daughter. 1955 Season Auction Mrs. Allan Clayton, Link Lake, Wisconsin 164 Auction [3.90.187.11] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 12:11 GMT) 165 Auction Reason for sale: Death of Mr. Clayton. Country Trunk A west four miles from Link Lake, then north a mile to the farm. Saturday, September 10 Sale to start at 11:30 a.m. Lunch on the grounds. Farm will be sold at 3:00 p.m. Terms: Cash The sale bill went on to list machinery: Farmall H tractor, International quack digger, 3-section roll-up drag, Oliver 2–14˝ plow w. Raydex points, John Deere low-wheeled 8 ft. grain drill with fertilizer and grass seed attachment. Two-section springtooth harrow. John Deere semi-mounted mower, 7 ft. cut. 4-wheel wagon and good hayrack. Case 8 ft. grain binder. Horse potato digger. New Idea manure spreader, John Deere 8 ft. tandem disc. Two-row horse corn planter. Dump rake. Hay loader and smaller items too numerous to mention. In addition to the machinery, the auction bill listed fifteen mixed-breed milk cows, a team of draft horses, and a 1948 Chevrolet pickup truck, plus several miscellaneous items: a thousand pound scale, stock tank, scalding kettle, 120 feet of 1 1 ⁄4 inch hayfork rope, eight milk cans, three bundles of new steel fence posts, chicken brooder, three cords of oak chunk wood, and a milk cart. The day of the auction was clear, cool, and bright. The hot spell that had settled over Link Lake for the past week or so had moved on east and cooler, drier weather had moved in. By 10:30 that Saturday morning, cars were parked on both sides of the road so that latecomers had to walk nearly a quarter mile to the farmstead...