Adams Memories by Al Huseby
We celebrate Adams 150th birthday in 2018. Those of us born in 1943 arrived at the exact midpoint of our town’s existence. I lived next door to Adams, and although I’ve moved away, I still have many ties there. Our parents, The Greatest Generation, had weathered the Great Depression and a horrific World War. We thank them for the wisdom and values they passed on to us, and the stories they told us of our first years before we had memories.
When do our own memories start? My early memories are of my good dog, Putsy, and the sights, sounds, and smells of our dairy farm. I remember our milk business. We bottled and sold our own raw milk prior to the Pasteurization laws of 1949. I stuck my finger in the gears of the hand bottler Mom was operating. That finger still doesn’t work like the others. I rode with Uncle Byron delivering milk from the back of a pickup truck. I would retrieve empty glass bottles from customers’ porches, and often they would contain two dimes and a penny- the cost of a quart.
Three families lived in our farmhouse- Grandpa Bennie and Grandma Amanda Huseby, and the young families of Aaron and Eunice, and Byron and Helen. We shared one car and a pickup or two. Grandpa drove the car to his insurance office in Austin so a truck was our usual transportation. When Grandpa built his house on the north edge of town I recall riding my tricycle down to check on it with Mom walking beside me. We purchased the farm north of us and Byron’s family moved there, so we were a single family dwelling. Aunt and Uncle, Edith and Bernie Neus lived on the next farm west of us, so the whole family lived as next door neighbors.
I was always thrilled when Dad asked me to ride to town with him, and I realize now this was part of my education. The Adams Co-op Creamery was fascinating, milk cans riding down the roller ramp into the building, and the sweet smell of cream being churned into butter inside. Schissel Brothers Elevator (Connie and Johnny) and the smell of grain and feed. Adams only skyscraper. Herman Klapperich Welding – the shower of sparks and the smell of hot steel. The six Osmundson Brothers each had their own field of expertise selling and repairing farm equipment, running quarries and building roads. PeeWee Landherr could always find the part we needed to keep our equipment going. Ed Millenacker sold farm equipment and Chrysler cars. Jake Meuer sold Chevys. The cars changed so much every year that unveiling the new model was a big event. Schmitz Electric sold all the modern electronics and could wire and repair everything. I first saw television in their shop window. I couldn’t really make out what I was seeing, but it was still magic. O.T. and Ed Anderson had the hardware store, a wonderland of tools, household goods, fishing and hunting gear, and a fixit shop in the back. We didn’t butcher on our dairy farm so Dad took me behind the scene at the Adams Locker Plant to watch a steer being processed into meat. Picking up the finished product from the freezer lockers was a lot more pleasant. Dubinsky’s Salvage was in the old creamery building by the railroad tracks on the east end of town. I vividly recall the stack of sheep pelts and their smell. How old were they? When is he going to sell them? Where did they come from? There were very few sheep in our area.
Most of our groceries were purchased at Johnny Wagner’s Super Value store. It seemed so large and you could get everything you needed. Danny Gilles was a master meat cutter. Blonigan’s Grocery store was smaller but he made a lot of great meat products. His dried beef was excellent for sandwiches. They made a good lunch for haying crews. On the farm, breakfast was in the morning, dinner at noon, and supper in the evening, so lunch was something you might have mid afternoon. Sometimes I would chew a wad of dried beef and put it behind my lower lip like Uncle Byron did with his Copenhagen. But you could eat dried beef. You didn’t want to swallow snoose! Willy, Marie, Mike and Stella Rauen had a great 3.2 beer joint though Aunt Marie always referred to it as the café. Cards (playing for chips), pool, pickled eggs, “dead fish”, the best hamburgers you’ve ever eaten and cold beer ( Hamms or Grain Belt). A great place to congregate.
The Farmers State Bank was the only bank in town. The Prairie style First National Bank on the corner failed in the depression and had been converted to a liquor store with a meeting room in the basement for the Legion, 4-H and others. The raised terrace wall out front was a hangout for generations of teenagers. Town cop, Harrison Hines ( Heinie) was our companion.
Although Adams was settled largely by Irish, German Catholics to the south, and Norwegian Lutherans to the north were predominant by 1868. Their churches were red brick buildings with tall steeples . The little white country church, Marshall Lutheran, and St. Johns Catholic Church in Johnsburg also provided for our spiritual needs.
Our family would pile into the’50 Chevy on nice summer evenings and drive around to check on crops and look for deer. We might even be fortunate to travel to Leroy for a root beer at the root beer stand. If that wasn’t enough excitement we could drive to the railroad tracks by the elevator and count freight cars as they rumbled by. Dad always had good timing. I didn’t realize those things traveled on schedule!
Passenger trains were gone by then, but Mom told about traveling with me as a little guy to visit relatives in Leroy or to shop in Austin.
Those middle years of grade school seem uneventful. I enjoyed school and friends but I can’t honestly recall anything exciting. I do remember going to a couple movies at the Adams Theater. In the middle of the afternoon! That still seems a bit strange to me.
As we entered our teen years a whole new world unfolded before us. We went to movies at night. The farm kid method of movie going was to go after chores were done. We would see the second half of the early movie, and stay for the first half of the late one. Somehow this made sense. Or, it didn’t need to. Anyway, we were out on our own. Vernon Schaefer’s Pine Room was the local teen gathering spot for having a pop or a sandwich, or just hanging out and listening to the juke box. It was connected to the theater where the rest rooms were located. A trip to the restroom often included standing in the doorway to check out the movie or see who was there. If it took too long, Vernon would come and gently remind us that we needed a ticket to see the movie.
Our high school years became complete in our freshman year when students from Sacred Heart, Johnsburg, and Taopi joined us, and new friendships were formed. The social aspect of school seemed as important as the education we received- sports, music, theater and all activities. We went to out of town games and dances, and to the big city of Austin. There we tasted an exotic foreign food- pizza. We witnessed the birth of Rock & Roll music in the mid ‘50’s. We heard it at sock hops, juke boxes, and phonographs, but mostly on radio. There was only AM (amplitude modulation) in those days, so we listened to local stations like WDGY (weegie) and KDWB (channel 63) in the Twin Cities. Then at night, something wonderful and magical happened. AM radio waves would reflect off the ionosphere creating sky wave, or skip transmissions. No longer bound by straight line transmission, we could pick up stations in Shreveport, Louisiana, KOMA in Oklahoma City, or Dick Biondi at WLS in Chicago. We’d cruise in our cars at night listening to those great clear as a bell AM stations.
Our lives weren’t all fun and games. Farm kids and town kids all worked hard. We sold our milk to Rochester Dairy, and bought back their Polly Meadows brand and loaded it in the pickup to deliver to houses, schools, cafes, and stores. Before I could drive, Uncle Byron would drive, and Dave Boyum and I would stand on the running boards on each side and hop off the moving truck with our deliveries. We moved fast in the warm months as there was no refrigeration. Winter months posed a different problem. I began driving the milk truck at 13. We soon purchased a Metro milk van. Still no refrigeration but the milk was inside.
Schroeder’s Block and Tile plant was on the north side of the railroad tracks. Bagged cement (80 pound bags?) would come in a boxcar. The going rate for unloading it was $20.00. Four guys could make an easy $5.00. Two would load bags on a hand cart and roll them out on the dock for the other two to stack inside. Sometimes the load had shifted and you had to dig the bags out. Covered in sweat and cement dust, we would go to Mike & Bills for a hamburger and Coke, thinking life doesn’t get any better than this.
My life in Adams was mainly 1943 through 1961. I have many great memories of those years and I’ve only recorded some of them; but this story is still too long. Write down your own memories. Everyone has a story, and a lot of folks would like to hear them.
Al Huseby
October 24, 2017
When do our own memories start? My early memories are of my good dog, Putsy, and the sights, sounds, and smells of our dairy farm. I remember our milk business. We bottled and sold our own raw milk prior to the Pasteurization laws of 1949. I stuck my finger in the gears of the hand bottler Mom was operating. That finger still doesn’t work like the others. I rode with Uncle Byron delivering milk from the back of a pickup truck. I would retrieve empty glass bottles from customers’ porches, and often they would contain two dimes and a penny- the cost of a quart.
Three families lived in our farmhouse- Grandpa Bennie and Grandma Amanda Huseby, and the young families of Aaron and Eunice, and Byron and Helen. We shared one car and a pickup or two. Grandpa drove the car to his insurance office in Austin so a truck was our usual transportation. When Grandpa built his house on the north edge of town I recall riding my tricycle down to check on it with Mom walking beside me. We purchased the farm north of us and Byron’s family moved there, so we were a single family dwelling. Aunt and Uncle, Edith and Bernie Neus lived on the next farm west of us, so the whole family lived as next door neighbors.
I was always thrilled when Dad asked me to ride to town with him, and I realize now this was part of my education. The Adams Co-op Creamery was fascinating, milk cans riding down the roller ramp into the building, and the sweet smell of cream being churned into butter inside. Schissel Brothers Elevator (Connie and Johnny) and the smell of grain and feed. Adams only skyscraper. Herman Klapperich Welding – the shower of sparks and the smell of hot steel. The six Osmundson Brothers each had their own field of expertise selling and repairing farm equipment, running quarries and building roads. PeeWee Landherr could always find the part we needed to keep our equipment going. Ed Millenacker sold farm equipment and Chrysler cars. Jake Meuer sold Chevys. The cars changed so much every year that unveiling the new model was a big event. Schmitz Electric sold all the modern electronics and could wire and repair everything. I first saw television in their shop window. I couldn’t really make out what I was seeing, but it was still magic. O.T. and Ed Anderson had the hardware store, a wonderland of tools, household goods, fishing and hunting gear, and a fixit shop in the back. We didn’t butcher on our dairy farm so Dad took me behind the scene at the Adams Locker Plant to watch a steer being processed into meat. Picking up the finished product from the freezer lockers was a lot more pleasant. Dubinsky’s Salvage was in the old creamery building by the railroad tracks on the east end of town. I vividly recall the stack of sheep pelts and their smell. How old were they? When is he going to sell them? Where did they come from? There were very few sheep in our area.
Most of our groceries were purchased at Johnny Wagner’s Super Value store. It seemed so large and you could get everything you needed. Danny Gilles was a master meat cutter. Blonigan’s Grocery store was smaller but he made a lot of great meat products. His dried beef was excellent for sandwiches. They made a good lunch for haying crews. On the farm, breakfast was in the morning, dinner at noon, and supper in the evening, so lunch was something you might have mid afternoon. Sometimes I would chew a wad of dried beef and put it behind my lower lip like Uncle Byron did with his Copenhagen. But you could eat dried beef. You didn’t want to swallow snoose! Willy, Marie, Mike and Stella Rauen had a great 3.2 beer joint though Aunt Marie always referred to it as the café. Cards (playing for chips), pool, pickled eggs, “dead fish”, the best hamburgers you’ve ever eaten and cold beer ( Hamms or Grain Belt). A great place to congregate.
The Farmers State Bank was the only bank in town. The Prairie style First National Bank on the corner failed in the depression and had been converted to a liquor store with a meeting room in the basement for the Legion, 4-H and others. The raised terrace wall out front was a hangout for generations of teenagers. Town cop, Harrison Hines ( Heinie) was our companion.
Although Adams was settled largely by Irish, German Catholics to the south, and Norwegian Lutherans to the north were predominant by 1868. Their churches were red brick buildings with tall steeples . The little white country church, Marshall Lutheran, and St. Johns Catholic Church in Johnsburg also provided for our spiritual needs.
Our family would pile into the’50 Chevy on nice summer evenings and drive around to check on crops and look for deer. We might even be fortunate to travel to Leroy for a root beer at the root beer stand. If that wasn’t enough excitement we could drive to the railroad tracks by the elevator and count freight cars as they rumbled by. Dad always had good timing. I didn’t realize those things traveled on schedule!
Passenger trains were gone by then, but Mom told about traveling with me as a little guy to visit relatives in Leroy or to shop in Austin.
Those middle years of grade school seem uneventful. I enjoyed school and friends but I can’t honestly recall anything exciting. I do remember going to a couple movies at the Adams Theater. In the middle of the afternoon! That still seems a bit strange to me.
As we entered our teen years a whole new world unfolded before us. We went to movies at night. The farm kid method of movie going was to go after chores were done. We would see the second half of the early movie, and stay for the first half of the late one. Somehow this made sense. Or, it didn’t need to. Anyway, we were out on our own. Vernon Schaefer’s Pine Room was the local teen gathering spot for having a pop or a sandwich, or just hanging out and listening to the juke box. It was connected to the theater where the rest rooms were located. A trip to the restroom often included standing in the doorway to check out the movie or see who was there. If it took too long, Vernon would come and gently remind us that we needed a ticket to see the movie.
Our high school years became complete in our freshman year when students from Sacred Heart, Johnsburg, and Taopi joined us, and new friendships were formed. The social aspect of school seemed as important as the education we received- sports, music, theater and all activities. We went to out of town games and dances, and to the big city of Austin. There we tasted an exotic foreign food- pizza. We witnessed the birth of Rock & Roll music in the mid ‘50’s. We heard it at sock hops, juke boxes, and phonographs, but mostly on radio. There was only AM (amplitude modulation) in those days, so we listened to local stations like WDGY (weegie) and KDWB (channel 63) in the Twin Cities. Then at night, something wonderful and magical happened. AM radio waves would reflect off the ionosphere creating sky wave, or skip transmissions. No longer bound by straight line transmission, we could pick up stations in Shreveport, Louisiana, KOMA in Oklahoma City, or Dick Biondi at WLS in Chicago. We’d cruise in our cars at night listening to those great clear as a bell AM stations.
Our lives weren’t all fun and games. Farm kids and town kids all worked hard. We sold our milk to Rochester Dairy, and bought back their Polly Meadows brand and loaded it in the pickup to deliver to houses, schools, cafes, and stores. Before I could drive, Uncle Byron would drive, and Dave Boyum and I would stand on the running boards on each side and hop off the moving truck with our deliveries. We moved fast in the warm months as there was no refrigeration. Winter months posed a different problem. I began driving the milk truck at 13. We soon purchased a Metro milk van. Still no refrigeration but the milk was inside.
Schroeder’s Block and Tile plant was on the north side of the railroad tracks. Bagged cement (80 pound bags?) would come in a boxcar. The going rate for unloading it was $20.00. Four guys could make an easy $5.00. Two would load bags on a hand cart and roll them out on the dock for the other two to stack inside. Sometimes the load had shifted and you had to dig the bags out. Covered in sweat and cement dust, we would go to Mike & Bills for a hamburger and Coke, thinking life doesn’t get any better than this.
My life in Adams was mainly 1943 through 1961. I have many great memories of those years and I’ve only recorded some of them; but this story is still too long. Write down your own memories. Everyone has a story, and a lot of folks would like to hear them.
Al Huseby
October 24, 2017