Death of the Family Farm There was a time when you could take any road out of a small town and you would pass one every few miles. Old wood frame homes painted white, modern brick ones, all with barns, a tractor, maybe a grain bin or two. Kids, dogs, and chickens running free. Family farms. Small towns depended on them. During the 50’s and 60’s they dotted rural America and were thriving. In the 70’s you could see it coming if you were there. Family farms dying. Maybe more importantly, a life style. I was there to see it. In 1973 I came back to our family farm after spending five years in Athens. Things hadnt changed much. You planted a crop in the spring and harvested it in the fall. Prices for crops, prices for equipment, and prices for fuel had remained relatively the same since the early 50’s. A good farmer could make a living and raise a family on a modest hard earned income. Life was good. All of that changed with the oil embargo and I was there to see it. “In response to the US aid to Israel, on October 16, 1973, OPEC announced a decision to raise the posted price of oil by 70%, to $5.11 a barrel. The following day, oil ministers agreed to the embargo, a cut in production by five percent from Septembers output, and to continue to cut production over time in five percent increments until their economic and political objectives were met.” The price of oil went from $3 a barrel in the fall of 1973 to $12 in the spring of 1974. Along with it the price of gasoline. If you are old enough you will remember long lines at gas stations. You will remember odd even days, which meant if your car tag ended with an odd number you could buy gas on an odd numbered day. Even number, even numbered days. Farming is a petroleum based business, from the fuel required to operate equipment to fertilizer which requires large amounts of oil for production. With the increase in oil, cost of production for farm commodities rose dramatically without a similar rise in prices for those commodities. Family farms were dying and I was there to see it. Soon after a land boom started and the average price for an acre of farmland in our area went from $300 to $1,000. A short term blessing, a long term death. It meant a farmer could borrow more money to keep his operation going, but at the same time increase his debt which meant he would need more income to service his debit. The increase in farm income didnt happen. Family farms were dying and I was there to see it. Over the years and each spring I farmed with dad we discussed the things to plant, the different ways we could make a profitable crop assuming the weather would be good. The weather seemed to work against us as well. Droughts were more frequent. Markets were stagnant. Cost kept rising. In the late 70’s I decided to throw in the towel, I was a young man and wanted a different future. I sat down with dad and told him I wanted sell out. He says to me, “Your doing the right thing.” I said, “This is a tough business, how have you done so well over the years?” He replied, “Times change, things change. If I was a younger man…” and his voice trailed off. Family farms were dying and I was there to see it. When I visited the area, I travel the country roads and see homes where I once knew the farm family that lived there. I can still name the kids and the parents. Some of them I rode the school bus with. When I drive through the small towns, I see small towns that are dying, and others that are stagnant. To be honest, its not always pleasant for it aint what it used to be. In a span of forty years give or take an industry changed completely and impacted rural America. With time it may all come back to what I remember it once was, for in the words of my wise father, “Times change, things change.” I reckon I just have to be patience.
Posted on: Fri, 18 Jul 2014 06:47:55 +0000
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