Milk Hauling Days - Part 1

Across the Fence 357

I ran into two people recently that brought back memories of my milk hauling days. Many of you are familiar with the days of farming when milk was hauled in cans. I’d like to take you back to those days of yesteryear when I hauled milk to the Westby Cooperative Creamery for 14 months.

During the summer of 1963, I was working on the family farm. One day, while I was doing chores, our milk hauler, Vernal Bjornstad, arrived. I helped lift the cans out of the cooler and carried them from the milk house while he lifted them into the truck. That was back in the days when you still put milk in ten-gallon cans, not bulk tanks. A full can weighed 100 pounds.

Vernal said he could use help with his milk route. He had two trucks and wondered if I’d be interested in hauling milk for him. He’d pay me $125 dollars a month. That seemed like a lot of money, especially when I wasn’t making any money working at home. “Talk it over with your dad,” he said, “and let me know tomorrow.” The hours would be from four or five in the morning until around one in the afternoon. I could still help on the farm in the afternoon and evening.

Dad was reluctant to have me haul milk. “You don’t know how to drive a big truck like that, it’s different from driving a pickup.” He finally relented.

The next morning I told Vernal I’d take the job. He said he’d pick me up at 4:30 the next morning and I’d ride with on the route I’d be taking over. Depending on the time of year there would be from 175 to 250 cans, and it would take two loads per day.

The next morning I was ready to roll. It was my first “real” job. Before then, I’d only worked on the farm or helped neighbors with farm work for short periods of time.

My route was mostly in the area north of Westby along Highway 27, the Clockmaker area, Jersey Valley, Rognstad Ridge, Highway 33 near Cashton, and several farms south of Westby, including our farm. It was a lot of miles to cover every day and still get the second load to the Westby Creamery and unloaded before 1:00.

Vernal drove while I made notes on what farms were on the route, and other things I needed to know, such as how many pounds of butter each received, and which dogs to watch out for. After the truck was full we headed for the creamery to unload. Vernal said I should try to beat Magnus Sather to the creamery, or I’d lose half an hour waiting behind him while he unloaded. Magnus also had a big route and it usually took about twenty minutes to half an hour to unload the full cans and load empty cans back on the truck.

After we’d completed the second load, Vernal parked the truck, and said, “It’s all yours!” He told me to take it to the gas station on the south edge of town and fill it up each day when I finished my route. He had an account there. Then he got in another truck and drove away.

There I stood. I still hadn’t driven the truck. I’d only been a passenger and watched while he explained how to shift from high to low gear by pressing the little red button on the side of the shift knob, while double clutching. He said I’d learn quickly which gear to use, depending on how heavy the load was.

I climbed up into the cab of that truck and started it up. I tried shifting it into gear. I had problems at first, but eventually made it out of the creamery driveway and onto Highway 14, sweating profusely!

I felt pretty cool bouncing along on my way to the gas station. Look at me; I’m a double-clutching truck driver, a real macho-man. I tried not to grind the gears too much as I headed down the highway. It was fun running through all those gears and constantly shifting. Little did I know that a year later it’d be a big pain in the butt shifting all the time.

That was the start of my truck driving, milk hauling career. Thank goodness it was in the summer when the weather was nice and the roads were good.

The next morning I was up and on the road before 4:30. It took longer that first day because everything was new, and I was still learning how to drive and shift the truck. I also found it tricky backing into tight places near milk houses using only the side-view mirrors and trying to judge the distance
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Somehow I survived that first day, with no accidents or spilled milk. I didn’t hit any milk houses, run over anyone, and even managed to maneuver the truck into the unloading dock without damaging the creamery.

By that evening every muscle in my body was sore. I was 19 and thought I was in great shape from doing farm work, but slinging 250 milk cans around and lifting them up into the bed of the truck was hard work. What had I gotten myself into?

Next week: A day in the life of a milk hauler.

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