Tobacco Fields Are Now History

Across the Fence #348

If you grew up on a farm that raised tobacco, you probably had a love-hate relationship with the crop. It was a lot of physical work and labor intensive. Everything seemed to be done by hand. Much of it was back breaking work. But there was also pride involved. You knew you’d been up to the task and survived the many physical challenges. Even now, I look back on those days with nostalgia. I can’t say that I felt that way when we were slaving away in the heat and humidity in a large tobacco field with no end in sight to the work at hand.

Thoughts of tobacco came to mind the other evening as we were driving some back roads. I realized that many of the fields we passed, used to be filled with tobacco plants instead of corn and other crops. Deteriorating, unused tobacco sheds still stand on many farms. The poles are still in place but haven’t seen a tobacco-filled lath for many years. The sheds stand waiting to feel useful again, but only death and destruction are in their future.

I can’t pass a tobacco shed without thinking of the life that used to go on within its walls. Those sheds remind me of all the work that had to be done before the tobacco was hung in the shed to cure.

It seemed like there was always a job for us kids to do when tobacco was involved. You didn’t have to be very old to hold a water hose and water the tobacco beds each day. We had several long beds, covered with a white, muslin cloth. When the plants were ready to transplant in the fields, we helped pick them and then two of us sat on the planter, row after long row, planting one plant at a time, while our father pulled the planter with our John Deere B. That was about as mechanized as anything got with growing tobacco.

Rainy days didn’t offer much relief from work either. As soon as the rain stopped we picked plants, put them in a pail we could carry, and headed for the fields to replant. We walked between two rows and looked for any plants that were missing or had died. Using a pointed wooden stick, we made a hole, inserted the plant, and filled the wet soil in around it. I wonder whatever happened to those replanting sticks we used? They were probably made from old broom or fork handles that were cut to about 6” long and sharpened to a point on one end. The other end was rounded so it didn’t hurt our palm as we pushed it into the ground.

Replanting involved a lot of walking and bending over, so it was a great chore for us youngsters. As many of you know, bending over gets harder as we get older. We often went barefoot in the wet, muddy soil. I can still feel the mud oozing between my toes. It was the only time we were allowed to go barefoot.

Hoeing tobacco came next. We hated hoeing. This was also another part of growing tobacco that was usually relegated to us kids. Dad would cut or rake hay while we spent hours chopping the weeds out from between each plant. One of the fields we had was huge and the rows were very long. It seemed like we’d be old men by the time we finished hoeing that field. I know we were very young when we started hoeing tobacco because my cousin Sandy and I were chopping at weeds when she dropped a big bombshell on me one day. She said there was no Santa Clause! Talk about a double whammy. There we were, child labor, slaving away in the hot tobacco field, and I’m told that Santa doesn’t exist. I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since that fateful day. I don’t remember how old I was, but I couldn’t have been very old if I still believed in Santa.

If we made a child that young work these days, we’d probably be hauled off to jail for child abuse. At that time it was standard operating procedure on every farm. Kids were expected to work, not just for a couple hours, but all day long. I believe it instilled a work ethic in farm kids that has served us well in whatever line of work we followed.

One subject I don’t hear discussed when talking about tobacco, is competitiveness. Just about every aspect of tobacco could develop into a race to show that you were the fastest. Think back to cutting tobacco. You were bent over for prolonged periods of time as you quickly grabbed each plant, bent it over, and with one swift swipe of the axe, chopped it off and laid it down. If you were fast enough, you had to stop every once in a while to let the person in front of you get ahead. You never wanted to hear that chopping sound behind you getting closer.

The same was true for piling and spearing tobacco. If someone else finished a pile faster than you did, you tried to speed up. You didn’t want to be the slowest one. It’s too bad they didn’t give out cash prizes for each event. That would have made the tobacco raising process much more interesting when we were young.