Dad seriously ill

In the spring of 1916 (we were in Vlagtwedde about 3 years by that time), in the month of April, my Dad suddenly became very ill. That night my mother woke me up, since one of the cows had to calf, and I headed for the stable, when Mom said suddenly “where is Dad now—he should be here.” She went back in the house to the bedroom and discovered that he was still in bed. She still had no inkling that something was wrong and as he tried to stand up to dress, he could hardly hold himself up. He briefly came to the stable, took a look and said “you seem to have things under control. I’m going back to bed” to which my Mom replied that this was a good idea.

Once back in bed, he continued to shake and could not get warm with teeth clattering and most likely a high fever. The following morning, we went to get the doctor, who diagnosed our father with pneumonia and had a look of deep concern on his face. That was on a Saturday. If we had only had penicillin, but unfortunately this had yet to be discovered. Dad was seriously ill and did not improve.

On Tuesday there seemed to be some improvement, and in fact he had a visit from Mr. Beekhuis (who later became my father-in-law). He was a member, with my father, of the local church council, and the two had a fine discussion. As a result, we were very much encouraged by that visit. The following day, my aunt came to visit from Oude Pekela, and she too thought things were looking up for Dad because he had talked with her in a very upbeat and hopeful manner. Mother had gone to sleep, exhausted from all the hours of watching over my very sick father.

Father dies

As we were eating in the backroom the next day, Mom suddenly appeared and said “Dad is dying”. So we crept quietly into the front room, where he laid in his bed, gasping for air and not knowing what was happening around him. Fifteen minutes later he breathed his last. We were devastated. You will understand that this was a major blow for us all, but especially for my mom. Now she had to face all of the future on her own.

Over the years, due to her own frequent illnesses, she had learned very little about the business affairs of running a farm while raising a family. My sister, Jantje, had a much better grasp of this. She had worked with Dad a lot and was more like a boy than a girl when it came to farming, and also had a bossy disposition. As children we overcame our grief fairly quickly, though we dreaded the empty chair at the head of the table and strongly encouraged Mom to take that place—which she did. How very difficult all of this was for her, since both our parents were only 48 years of age when Dad died, and Mom was now left with seven young children. This became an enormous concern.

Where from here

Family members quickly concluded that Mom should sell the farm, while others, the more rational and wiser ones, advised her not to rush—the children will grow up quickly. So we stayed with the latter advice. Now I should tell you that the neighbouring farmers were not the best at their trade and we had very little support there. Only Mr. Beekhuis would drop by frequently, and we had wise counsel and support from him. Also, Jan Greven, another farmer, would come by frequently, but he seemed more interested in my sisters than the affairs of the farm.

The year of Dad’s death was 1916, halfway into the first world war. Produce was at a premium price, which really helped us through this difficult period. We had frequent crop diseases that would cut yields by as much as fifty percent. We also had to hire a full-time farm worker, who had to be paid, so all in all we needed the higher prices to pull us through. In this fashion we managed to pull through the new reality. Never having been exposed to potato planting from behind a horse drawn plough, I did the best I could, but when it came time to weed again behind a horse drawn scuffle, I saw the inadequacies of my previous planting job, with rows being then wide then narrow.

Problems

In 1919, my sister Jantje became engaged to Jan Boven who was also a farmer, but with much more experience than me, and could be very helpful in giving me advice. In November of 1920, these two were married, and my other oldest sister Hendrika also left home to become a nurse in the town of Wagenborgen. Our farm worker also left at that time. We were now older and stronger and could manage the work, but financially it seemed like a disaster.

Crops that rot

In 1920, we had a hurricane pass through that left us with about two feet of water flooding all the low-lying areas. It was June, and the rye grain crop was just starting to sprout heads, the oats were almost two feet high with the potatoes just coming up. You can understand that that nothing much came of these crops. In the lower parcels of land, the potatoes had totally rotted, whereas, in the higher fields, they had rot in the stems but, at a later stage, seemed to recover somewhat.

The bottom line that year was that, from 6 ha of land, we yielded only about 650 deliverable bushels of questionable quality potatoes, and the rye was about 8 bushels while the oats was around 12 bushels. This resulted in us having to buy, the next spring, all of our seed potatoes as well as seed grains, and having to borrow the monies for this as well as for our fertilizers.

Escaping with the cash

In 1921, the managing director of the potato starch factory that we were shareholders of, decided to take off with all of the cash, which—was a lot, because they had just sold most of the starch produced for that year. We owned six shares, for which we had paid fl 375  per share, for a total investment of fl 2,250, which was a substantial sum for that time. For the purpose of investing in such a venture, you could not borrow the money but had to arrange to pay for these shares in instalments. This now put us in a position of having to pay for shares that were of questionable value, while harvesting crops that were also minimal due to poor quality from the flooding. My mother would discuss all of these issues with me, since I was now the adult son (21). My younger brother, who was only 18, did not take any great interest in helping manage the farm affairs.

These were difficult times, and I took no pleasure in having to deal with circumstances that came my way. Other guys my age seemed to have a lot of fun dating girls, and here I was, already old for my age. I could relate to older people much better than to those of my age, and I soon discovered that I was perceived as a dullard by my peers.

Finally, light at the end of the tunnel

But finally, the light broke through the clouds. In the summer of 1922, we had a visit in the fields from a fertilizer dealer who told us all about a new product called “copper sulphate”. “Copper sulphate?” we asked, “never heard of it. What is it.?” Well, he told us, this product will eradicate the very common crop diseases found in these newly developed lands, that were formerly peat bogs. (This part of the province of Groningen had huge peat bogs that, over the years, were harvested for peat as a much-needed fuel and were now sitting either dormant or producing very poor crops. The area was referred to as the “veenkolonien”, or peat colonies, and was considered a very poor and backward part of the province.)

In order to convince us about the merits of the new fertilizer, he encouraged us to go to Sellingen, along the canal, and look at the potato crops in a large test plot there. Now, we loved the story and even mother had been convinced that this would be worthy of pursuit. We quickly decided that we should get on with visiting the test plot so, that same evening, my brother Jan and I headed for Sellingen and sure enough it was a huge surprise. The test plot consisted of a very sick and diseased field that had been treated with copper sulphate in different doses—some not at all, and some at minimal to maximum doses. Yields varied with doses from zero to 10kg per 0.5 ha, to 20kg, 25kg, 30 kg, and 40 kg—the differences were enormous. The quality of the lower dosage yields were average, but the over 20kg yields were just of exceptional quality. A great crop, with heavy, beautiful heads of grain—we were in the clouds!. The bonus was that the copper sulphate was not all that expensive—I believe somewhere around fl 16/100kg. We immediately ordered 600 kg.

The next year we had an abundant crop and had purchased another 200 kg during the year when we learned that 25kg/ha in low lying areas was insufficient. The yields were enormous, which allowed us in that year to significantly reduce our debts. This too was providential and so necessary, since we were not only poor, but also looked poor with our old, worn out clothing, since new clothing had been out of reach for some time. Between mother and I, we decided to pay off the most pressing debt first before paying for the shares, since the potato starch factory could afford to wait. We now could imagine a better future.

Looking for girls

As I mentioned earlier, brother Jan never showed much interest in the farm situation we found ourselves in but was more interested in going after the girls. He soon developed a relationship with a girl living relatively close to us. Her name was Froukje Kleefman, and they quickly became serious about their relationship to the point where he asked mom if he could bring her along to our home. Well, she couldn’t refuse of course, and so Froukje came to visit us, and for us to size her up. However, that did not go well, and none of the siblings took a liking to her.

So, one time while we were working the fields, Jan asked us why we were not all that hospitable and friendly to his new girlfriend. “Is she perhaps not good enough?” was his question. To which I said “no it’s not that, but don’t you see how absolutely sloppy she is, and next to you it is a great contrast. Over time you too will most likely start to notice, and it will begin to bother you.” Well, two weeks later they broke up. This upset the whole Kleefman family, and soon she left for the city of Groningen to take up a position there.

However, it did not take very long for Jan to find another girl at a church young people gathering in February of 1925. There he met Annie van Dam whom he married a few years later. He pursued her vigorously, and soon succeeded in landing his girl. He forgot all the other girls and only had an eye for the charming Annie. She had a slight physical handicap from earlier polio and felt that, most likely this would be strike against her becoming a farmer’s wife, expected to do some heavy lifting. After much discussion with Jan and family she persuaded him that they should start up a clothing store that would make the clothing as well as sell it in their own retail store in the village. To start with, they purchased product from J.Boven on the Lange Street Bridge and from H. de Vries in Nieuwe Pekela. Soon thereafter, Jan went from door to door selling his new wares and became quite successful, to our surprise. Annie would come very frequently to our home and we loved that girl a lot.

By now you, my children reading this, will probably wonder “well what about you Dad—you never had a girl?” I did have girls from time to time, but when they became too serious about our relationship I would always break up, thinking it would be years before I could consider marriage, so why manage all these expectations in the meantime. Single, at this stage, seemed best.

Grietje Stel from Nieuwe Pekela

I never found a girl that I really liked until Christmas of 1926, when a friend of mine and I attended an evening, organized by church young peoples, of readings and recitations in the town of Niewe Pekela. We had parked our bicycles and coats and sat in the back of the auditorium to get a good overview. After a while we noticed a table with three girls and one young man quite close to where we had sat. At some point I made eye contact with one of the girls and something sparked in both of our eyes. I said to my friend that there’s a girl who has an interest in me and I in her. But his response was indifferent, and we just stayed where we were. During the intermission we got up to introduce ourselves, but, due to my friend’s reluctance, two other guys beat us to the punch, and we fished behind the net.

A little later, when they came back into the auditorium, I could tell that she was not too pleased with this outcome and I turned around to see if we could find some other girls to link up with. However, I did ask some of the other fellows at the event if they knew who the girl was and learned more about her. That evening, I did meet another girl and ended up taking her home but, the evening was spoiled for me nevertheless.

After about three or four weeks, I visited with a cousin of mine, at my aunt and uncle’s place, where I always got to sleep in the same room. As we were talking, I asked him about the girl I had my eye on—her name was Grietje Stel—to which he answered in the affirmative and asked why. I told him that I was interested in getting to know her, to which his response was “well then, we’ll go and see her tomorrow night” and I agreed that was the right thing to do. Once we came to the village where she lived, we asked a small group of boys if they had any idea as to where such-and-such girls might be found. (It was quite typical, in those days, for young people in those small communities to know where the girls and boys were hanging out, and for local boys not to be interested in the local girls). Sure enough they knew and gave us directions to the home where the girls were present. We soon arrived at the Hulsebos residence, on Onstwedderweg, and boldly knocked on the door, after we had sneaked a preview through the windows to make sure the girls were there, and not the parents.

The door opened, and we heard nothing but girls’ voices, after the eldest daughter of the home had greeted us and  after we had asked if we had “credit” ( a term used in those days to ensure that the call was honourable)—to which her answer had been “so what?” Our response was “well, would it be ok for us to come in and keep them company,” which didn’t exactly strike the right chord, and she tried to close the door on us. Then my cousin pipes up and asks “is Grietje Stel with your group”—to which she replied in the affirmative. She went inside leaving the door half shut and called for Grietje to come to see the uninvited visitors and sure enough she came to greet us. She seemed quite amazed to see me but, when we asked if we could come in, she replied that she was not in charge but would ask and then, sure enough, we had permission to come in.

After we took off our coats and stepped inside, we discovered a room full of girls—there must have been ten of them. We had a very cozy (gezellig) evening together and at ten o’clock broke up and decided to accompany all the girls home on our bikes. The bikes were parked at the rear of the house and I, of course, rode off with Grietje and another girl between us. But very soon, the in between girl let go, and I was biking next to the girl, Grietje, that I came for in the first place. I asked her if the guy she had met last Christmas eve was no longer here, to which she replied, “no I was hoping it would be just you.” So now I had a girl, and we both were happy about that. We decided that I would come again the following Sunday evening. My mother seemed to be happy about my new relationship although she never said so.

Soon, however, I discovered that I doubted that she would be the right wife for me in the future. She was without a mother since she had died from TB when she was three years old and was subsequently adopted by her aunt and two uncles. One uncle was a teacher, the other a farmer and the aunt did all the housework—all three were single brothers and sister. I would ask her once in a while “what do you do all day,” which seemed to annoy her. She was very good at sewing and made all her own dresses and for the rest of the time she would go shopping for her aunt. Once in a while she would visit with her Dad and Stepmom, but that seemed about all that I could get out of her.

In the beginning it was a good relationship, but when she talked about becoming engaged I realized that this was not the direction I wished to go. I asked her if she would like to be my wife and she would say yes, because I love you. I did point out that, by marrying me, she would become a farmer’s wife and that that would require a lot of hard work, which she acknowledged, since her aunt had already pointed this out to her, as well and telling her that it would be quite a different life style than that to which she had become accustomed.

We were hauling grain in August that year and one day, all of a sudden, three girls, including Grietje, arrived at our farm gate ringing their bicycle bells, as if to say it’s vacation time. When I saw that, just as I came out of the barn with one of our horses, it turned me off and I hitched the horse to an empty wagon and rode off. The next Sunday she told me the relationship was over and once again I was a single man.

Other girls

After that, I didn’t bother with looking for a girls for three years. However, if you are that age—I was now in my late twenties—then other busybodies start to meddle in your affairs. You are always subject to other opinions and unsolicited encouragement like “isn’t that girl somebody for you”. And so, on and on it goes. Once, we were at a regional young people’s meeting’ where I spoke to a fellow from Mussel who said, “I have a cousin in Musselkanaal who may be a good fit for you.”

Sounded promising, and I wrote to her, which resulted in an invitation to come a few weeks later. However, that girl and I were not a good fit at all. She did have a sister, but she had TB, she told me, but who struck me as a very kind girl. Later on—by now I was 29 years of age—I dated a girl, who was a sister of my later brother-in-law Gerrit Verwey, who was a housekeeper for him at that time. She was ten years younger than me, but a very kind girl. We dated and at some point she told me that she would write to her mother to get her opinion on what she thought about this relationship. A week later she had her answer. “A farmer who is ten years older than you—Oh Boy!—but then again, you have to decide for herself of course, but I would not encourage such a relationship.” This made her conclude that she would have to pass on me, since she had no appetite for going against her mother’s opinion.

On the long weekend of Ascension Monday, she was with a friend in the park of Onstweddex (Onstwedderbos), as was I with my friend E.Wisman. He said to me “don’t you want to be with your girl?”  I knew that he was crazy about her, so I said “why don’t you ask her?—I’m no longer interested.” So off he went but soon came back, rejected, urging me to go and ask her, because she would not reject me. However, I had no appetite for beginning this relationship over again and let it ride. We dated a couple of other girls that evening, and that made her mad and tell her brother that all boys are just mean.

Dina Beekhuis

In the meantime, both your mother Dina and I remained single people. (Harm is addressing his children here: Stiny, Harry, Hank, Co and Rika.) We had known each other for years, but always passed each other by like ships in the night. We were always good friends and I spent many hours at her place with her parents, especially her Dad whom I liked a lot. Especially on Saturday evenings, when the whole family was at home, it was a good place to be—gezellig. When Dina would say she needed to go home (she lived at the local doctor’s home as a housekeeper), then I always left with her to walk her there—about a ten-minute walk. I always liked to tease her, to which she did not take kindly and reacted with annoyance, in a way that I enjoyed.

But then, all of a sudden, she took off to another position in Amsterdam, which was like the other side of the world for us. I found this out from my sister Grietje, but the next Sunday she had already returned home, and I saw her in church. After church, when I talked to her, I expressed my surprise that she was already home again. She explained that she had been given a week’s holiday to start, to which I replied, stupidly, that she probably needed to be close to her Mom for a milk bottle with a soother.

Well did she get angry! I had never seen her that mad. Now, that really spoiled the situation badly, and even though I felt sorry for having made the remark, it was too late. “Is it any of your business?” were the last words she hurled at me. It bothered me a lot but it had happened. She always thought I was a dull, stiff rake anyway—we had never hugged, never mind kissed each other. From my perspective, I always found her to be a spunky, lovely girl but with a strong temper. She was more like a sister, but not someone you would get married to. I was also afraid that, if I came too close to her and it didn’t work out, I would lose a good relationship and friend. The next week she was back in Amsterdam—so out of sight out of mind.

Brother Jan becomes a farmer after all.

I really concentrated now on my work on the farm, a task I really did with great pleasure. The farm functioned well, and we had come through the most difficult times. My mother would say from time to time that “we’ve never had it so good”. Brother Jan was still selling textiles door to door but hated the job and one day said to his fiancée Annie “I’ll never make a good salesman, but then what do I do, because you’ll never make a good farmer’s wife” (Annie had polio at one time and was somewhat handicapped with one weak arm). But they wanted to get married anyway.

One day Jan came home all excited and told us that he had been at farmer Jan Wubs to sell him textiles. Farmer Wubs had asked him if he enjoyed his work and Jan had said “to be honest it drives me nuts I don’t like it one bit.” Now, farmer Wubs said, “I fully understand that, if you were raised on a farm, this is not what you were cut out for. Consider this I have 24 deimt (about 10 ha) of land in the Vledder district that I’d like to rent out, and if you are interested I also know of a house that you can rent, a house next door to the Egberts, where his fiancée Annie was boarding at the time. Jan immediately said, “let’s go and have a look” and so the next day we went and had a look.

We were surprised at the quality of the land, and it was all in one parcel—which made it attractive to work. So, we went to see the owner, Jan Wubs, to ask what rent he would charge for this property. He was asking 480 guilders per year, which came to 20 guilders per deimt (a deimt is approx. 0.5 acres), which we thought was a bargain. So right away, of course, he accepted the deal, on the condition that we also could close a deal on the farmhouse and barns. My brother right away said he’ll go and visit that farmer on his own because he’ is an old difficult guy and I wouldn’t have the patience to deal with that. My brother was not far off the mark and I understood his strategy. So we split up and Jan went to see the farmhouse owner, J. ter Borg, that evening. Soon, brother Jan came home, after he had been told that the farmer was not ready to sell or lease out his farmhouse and that it would take some time to decide.

Brother Jan must have visited him at least five times and was ready to give up, and said “I don’t think we’ll ever get a deal.” I advised him to take one more crack at it by giving him an ultimatum—“either I get a deal or I’m going after another property owner who is ready to make one.” After some discussion, still no decision until his wife piped up and said “well, you do wish to rent it out—why keep holding up these young people.” So, finally, he agreed that, for 100 guilders per year, Jan could rent it for six years. And so the deal was made. The farmhouse was right close to the street in the village, with two rooms side by side, a hallway in between and cow and horse stalls in the back. The front room became his wife’s hat making room and in the other half they lived and slept. Now all that he still needed was, of course, a horse, a few cows and some farm equipment, which all had to come from our mother. This it did and so, Jan and Annie got married on a bitter cold day in February of 1929 and installed themselves in their newly acquired home and farm.