Farmers Union Oil Company. South Heart, ND
1941

It was Lois's hospitalization with anthrax and Dad's ulcers that served as a catalyst for improving conditions for the family. As a result of the anthrax a good deal of the family's meagre goods had to be destroyed particularly clothes, bedding, and mattresses. These items were taken out in the yard and burned. There was no insurance and no money available to replace the goods that had been destroyed. The health authorities who had burned the goods told our parent to go the welfare office for assistance. The welfare agency sent out a set of light clothing for each member of the family and a mattress and a blanket. The person in charge of welfare refused to give further help. Somehow the county or someone referred the matter to Farm Security Administration and Herman Joos, the county administrator of the agency entered the picture. Herman Joos was an aggressive, decisive, compassionate and understanding man. He became the badly needed advocate for our family. I saw my father in August of 1939 when Lois was in the hospital and Dad was too sick to make any kind of significant decisions regarding himself or his family. The first thing Herman Joos did was to make a trip to the welfare office. His visit changed the minds of those in charge as to the necessities needed by the family. The family was supplied with blankets, mattresses, clothing and some other things to replace those that had been burned. Since it was so obvious that Dad was very ill, it was apparent to Mr. Joos that much more than welfare would be needed to raise the family from destitution. Mr. Joos looked at the long term as well as short term need.

In our case it was Herman Joos who set in motion a series of actions that led to our return to farming and a more successful and secure family existence. The action of the welfare agency was an unhappy experience during that time of which I am aware. The result has been that I have always had a degree of sympathy for those who complain when there is reluctance of welfare officials to respond to the needy. It has led on numerous occasion of confrontation with people who criticize those on welfare with little recognition that there are victims of tragedy and or circumstances.

It was obvious that the family did not have resources necessary to cope with his illness. During this period is was also obvious that Dad was incapable of working. The doctor's office made arrangements to have Dad enter the Veterans Hospital in Fargo. Mr. Joos began the work of helping the family get back into farming.

I was still at Kensal between October 11-14, 1939. I attended the Farmers Union State Convention in Jamestown on those dates and listed Kensal as place of residence. Dad was in the Veterans Hospital in Fargo when I arrived home from Kensal. It has taken us some time to dissolve the corporation and the settle the affairs. I remember I was anxious to settle things and get back home although there wasn't really much I could do there. At least I was not another mouth to feed.

"Floyd Cofell is ill in the Veterans Hospital in Fargo." (SCR., Vol. 36, No 9, October 5, 1939.) A later item announces, "Floyd Cofell, who underwent an operation in the Veterans Hospital in Fargo recently, is slowly recovering." (SCR., Vol. 35, No. 15, November 16, 1939.)

Brother Gordon tells me that Dad came home from the Veterans Hospital between thanksgiving and Christmas. There is no mention of this in any of the data that I have. However, early in 1940 Gordon was in the hospital. "Gordon Cofell underwent an appendectomy at the Trinity Hospital on Tuesday." (SCR., Vol. 36, No. 26, Feb. 1, 1940.) and "Gordon Cofell has returned home the Trinity Hospital, Jamestown." (SCR., Vol. 36, No. 27, Feb. 18, 1940. P. 5) Apparently Gordon entered the Hospital on January 25, and was discharged about 10 days later. Merritt Clancy and mother took Gordon to Dr. Dupuy's office in Jamestown. Doctor Dupuy took Gordon to the hospital and had him on the operating table by 12:00 noon.

I was not home at the time of Gordon's illness. There is a memory of coming home and being told of illness. I must have been working for a neighbor at the time. My memory fails me during this period between Kensal and moving to the Ytreeide farm. What I do remember has something to do with a sense of helplessness. There wasn't much I could do except to take care of myself and not be a burden. There were no jobs that paid enough to sustain a family in need. I could have gone in to the CCC's or even joined the army neither of which would have helped.

I was home to help prepare the place to which we were moving. Bill McClaren had been employed to do some repair work on the house. Dad had not fully recovered from his stay at the Veterans Hospital. Farm Security Administration was making plans for us to go back to farming. I made a promise to Dad or to Mr. Joos that I would stay a year to help work the farm. The Ytreeide farm in Manns Township was available for rent and who ever owned it was eager to rent it. Dad received the Farm Security Loan to buy cattle, some horses, needed farm machinery. As I recall all purchases were carefully inspected by Mr. Joos. He made certain that the animals were disease free and the used machinery, all horse drawn, was of good quality. As soon as we moved the livestock and machinery began to arrive by truck. Most of it coming from around Jamestown. Dad was still in no condition to do very much farm work. When the full number of horses arrived I began spring plowing and preparing fields for planting and it was rather late in the season.

That spring I worked those horses pretty hard. Gene and Gordon were a great help on weekends and each day, after they would arrive home from school. Working with threshing crews and other farm work for neighbors had conditioned me pretty much for what I had to do that spring. We were out of the James river valley up and up on the plains. I plowed, harrowed, drilled in the crop under Dad's watchful eye. We did not have an opportunity to do any fall plowing. It all had to be done in the spring. I believe we planted about 250 acres into crop. Even with all the good will and hope and hard work we did not get the crop in as early enough to benefit from early rains. That summer we put up a good deal of hay which meant we could feed the livestock and at least have a cream check.

It was during the summer of 1940 that we had an adventure with the old Model T. car. Lois, Gene and Gordon and myself were coming home from town in part of what was left of that 1925 Model T. As we were nearing home the Tie Rod dropped down making the vehicle impossible to steer. When we came to a stop we were on top of a rock pile. The front wheels were kind of cross-eyed. Needless to say we were quite shaken by this event. We were unhurt and did not have far to walk to get home. It is also my last adventure with a Model T.

Another memory that remains of this farmstead was mother and Lois working to beautify the yard. There were some Iris planted in the yard between the house and the road. Lois planted Zinnias and Cosmos in the yard and garden. The move to this farm also meant we were back in the gardening business.

As the summer of 1940 progressed it was apparent that we were not going to have much of a crop. It was dry and a late planting did not do well. There was hardly anything to harvest. Eugene, Lois and myself went to Edgeley to work for our grandparents and Uncle Willard they had a fair crop that year needed labor and had plenty of harvest work.

We worked hard at Grandpa's. Gene and I both found the work hard. I think Eugene suffered some of the same symptoms that I had in the fall of 1937. It would not been so bad working just during the day but when one fills the nights with dreams of working there isn't enough time to rest. There was work of shocking grain. Our Grandfather used a grain header to harvest his wheat and working in a header box as well as stacking heads was demanding work. Following the cutting of grain we began threshing which lasted well into September. We were still threshing on September 3. All harvest work stopped on September 4, the fiftieth wedding anniversary of our grandparents. It was also our Grandmother's sixty-eighth birthday. All harvest work stopped for that Golden Wedding in 1940. It was a very special day. It is still a day to be noted but it isn't as rare. After the Golden Wedding, Gordon stayed and helped for a few days and then he and Eugene had to return home to start school. As I recall Lois and I worked into September and perhaps part of October. I do not remember what Grandpa and Uncle Willard paid me. Out of whatever it was I bought some of Uncle Willard's oats so Dad would have seed the following spring. There was also a pile of oats that for some reason had been left on the ground that I bought as feed for our farm animals. Uncle Willard was kind enough to transport the oats in his truck with a trailer of oats pulled behind it.

Uncle Byrl was in charge of the threshing operation. In other words he was the boss. One day, I learned something of Uncle Byrl and also about Grandpa. One of the men driving a bundle wagon was an Edgeley native. He kind of thought he had a favored place on the crew. He was driving a lively team that belonged to Uncle Byrl. He would drive up to the machine hang the reins loosely on the tie post and begin pitching bundles into the feeder. Since the horses felt no restraint on the reins they would take off. The result was an interruption in the operation and a circling around to get back to the threshing machine. This happened several times and Uncle Byrl told him to wrap the reins tightly around the tie post. Uncle Byrl was as concerned about what was happening to his team as he was about the loss of time. The man did not do this and thus more time was wasted. At noon Uncle Byrl told him he was fired. The response was, "Oh! No! I'm not. You didn't hire me." Byrl simply said, "You won't be needed this afternoon." We then went back to the homestead for dinner. Byrl apparently told Grandpa what had happened as soon as we arrived. After dinner, I was present when the man tried to justify his position to Grandpa. Grandpa responded with no hesitation, "If Byrl says you are fired, you are fired." There were some additional words by Grandpa about handling of horses. We reviewed this event in the early 1980's on a visit with Uncle Byrl. We both remembered it.

After returning home from working for Grandpa in 1940, I bought another team of horses with some of the cash I had earned. They were beautiful buckskins a gelding and a mare that was in foal. The gelding was a bronco off the Montana plains. He was a dangerous kicker. If anything brushed him from behind he kicked. We were very careful when harnessing and hitching him. He was a eager worker, however, and I did quite a bit of fall plowing for Dad using these two horses with three of Dad's. The following spring the Mare foaled a filly colt. I was no longer home when that event occurred. The feed oats and the seed oats at least saved my parents another outlay and the two horses came in handy. Dad sold the kicking buckskin bronco when I was in service.

During the winter of 1941, I was asked to travel to several places in North Dakota with a couple of men from the Carnegie Foundation for International Peace. I was asked by the Farmers Union to attend a meeting in Jamestown to plan other meetings in North Dakota. I was to be the North Dakota representative. The men from the foundation were Dr. Shepard Witman, who was a professor of Political Science at Omaha University, Omaha, Nebraska. The other was Harry Terrill, a representative of the Endowment. He worked out of Des Moines, Iowa. Dr. Terrill was a very interesting and very humane person and keen observer of human behavior. He spoke to some length while we were traveling about the importance of anthropology indicating both interest and knowledge of that field of study. I met Dr. Witman again in 1961 when he was at the University of Pittsburgh.

The travel with Dr. Whitman and Harry Terrill was around the tenth of February 1941. I copied the expense account I submitted for February 10 and 11 for $9.20. Part of that was for train fare between Fargo and Valley City and Jamestown. There is a memory of the train ride between Jamestown and Fargo. There were three or four men in a seat near us and one man was telling the others, rather loudly, about all the adventures, exploits and heroics he had engaged in during World War I. The stories sounded highly imaginative, fanciful and perhaps somewhat enlarged. Harry Terrill, I do not know whether he was a veteran or not, but he commented quietly that current atmosphere in regard to our preparations for possible entry into the European War had the effect of loosening the tongues of some veterans, possibly those who had seen no real action.

Out of this series of meetings there arose the later opportunity to attend a summer institute at Winona, Minnesota that was also sponsored by the Carnegie Foundation. Dr. Whitman and Harry Terrill were also at that meeting.

In the spring of 1941, I received an offer to work as a trucker salesman and service station helper from the Farmers Union Oil Company at South Heart, North Dakota. The job entailed delivering petroleum products to farmers in the area. An additional requirement was to assist in operation of the service station in the same town. I worked for just a little over a year. I remember the evening I arrived in South Heart I attended a church bingo, it was my first attempt at bingo. It was a good opportunity to socialize with members of the community. It was a quick and easy way to become acquainted.

Over the year I worked at South Heart I did manage to bring in a few new customers and thus extended the service area of the cooperative. I also got to know some very fine people. Some might have called it a melting pot community. I became acquainted with people who came from the Ukraine, Bohemia, Holland, Sweden, Poland, and Russia. It was a practical lesson in understanding diversity. I also heard a few of the stories of why some of these people came to the United States in the 1890's and early 1900's. I liked the community and I found myself liking these people.

Much of my time was spent on the road delivering gasoline, tractor and heating fuel, lubricating oils, grease, twine, and tires. I delivered fuel to areas surrounding towns of Fryburg, Fairfield, Gorham, Zenith and Belfield. I do not know the dimensions of the service area but it reached about 15 miles south 20 miles north of South Heart and as far west as Gorham and Fryburg, towns on the edge of the North Dakota Badlands. One of our customers was very near to Grassy Butte. It was a large area to be covered. Roads would now be called "minimum maintenance". If improved they were covered with scoria. If not they became sticky gumbo clay during rainstorms. I was stuck several times during that year both in winter and during rain storms. The roads would become a greasy, gooey mess that seemed to largely ball up around the wheels. One had to be careful for one could slide off the road into the ditches with the minimum of effort. I slept one night at the homestead of one of our customers. I was returning to town in late afternoon with an empty truck and it began to rain. I think a truck empty was harder to control than if loaded. I slid in and, was stuck in a ditch. There was no way anyone could be enticed to pull that truck out of the ditch at night. I locked the truck and walked to the home of a nearby customer. The next morning, the rain having ended, they generously used their tractor and with a very long chain managed to pull me from the ditch and onto the road again. Since telephones were sparse there was no way for me to communicate with a very worried manager.

In the spring of 1941 when I was still inexperienced, one customer wanted his tanks filled before the spring thaw, which was a very good idea. I went out with a full tank of fuel and oil and turned onto a path or track leading into the farmstead. I was about one hundred feet from the entry gate when all six wheels went down. They came with a tractor and maneuvered me to the shed where I could unload about 400 gallons of tractor fuel and the lubricating oil. They kindly followed me back to the road with the tractor which I managed to make with an unloaded truck. It was tricky business at the time.

When I first started this work we unloaded the trucks five gallons at a time. Each truck had two five gallon measuring buckets and a funnel. Mostly what we filled were 55 gallon drums. Farmers would occasionally have a tank but that was filled the same way with the buckets unless it was underground. It was excellent work to build shoulder muscles. During 1941 or 1942 the manager purchased a pump that measured fuel, and were run by a Briggs and Stratton one cylinder engine. They eased our task on farms and certainly speeded up the unloading of fuels.

In the fall of 1941, I was on the way with a delivery of a full 400 gallon load of gasoline, two 55 gallon drums of lubricating oil and 400 pounds of twine and a couple of pails of lubricating grease. I might have been overloaded for the capacity of the truck. About six miles north of Belfield there was a resounding "bang" and one of the tires was flat. I was kind of proud and relieved that I managed to bring the truck and load to a stop without an accident. I remember that I had practiced for just such an event. The tire was pretty well demolished. After some hard work jacking the truck I changed tires and continued and made the delivery.

In November of 1940, I had to register for the draft and that was always a concern. I received my first notice for physical examination in 1941 which was made at Dickinson, North Dakota. There were a number of young men being examined at that time. I remember this rather vividly as the young man who was ahead of me fainted as he sat down to have blood drawn for the Wasserman test. I helped hold him in his place while the nurse continued taking his blood. I was then told to let him slide to the floor where he revived while she drew blood from my arm.

I was classified as 4-F or something like that because of my eyes was not within the limits of sight required at that time and I had some very damaged teeth. My teeth had not been repaired from the damage done to them in a fall during the winter of 1934-35. On the afternoon of March 1940 on the way to Montpelier to catch the train, Dad advised me not to get my teeth fixed since it might keep me out of the draft.

In the summer of 1941 there seemed to be little chance that I would be called for the draft. This was to change rapidly after December 7, 1941 when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. On Sunday morning, I had gone to church services with my employer. After church services I was working in the service station and it was there with the radio on that I first learned of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Everything seemed unbelievable, it numbed us for a time as we listened and someone wanted to know where was Pearl Harbor.

I received notice of Change in Classification, dated March 20, 1942. I received notice to appear for Physical Examination on April 6, 1942. This was largely a formality in the Clinic in Dickinson for I was ordered to appear in Jamestown on April 13, 1942 for induction into the Armed Services. I had to appear early Monday morning, Mother and Dad took me to Jamestown Sunday afternoon April 12, 1942. It was the last time I was to see them until I stepped off the Northern Pacific Passenger train on December 16, 1945. I appeared at the proper hour and was transported to Frayne Barracks at Bismarck.

Induction into the armed services ends the story of my close involvement with and restricts my knowledge of what was happening with the family. Things did happen for the better such as the folks buying their farm in Manns Township and I think mother and Dad did have some more illness and there were a few setbacks but they were in better financial straits and were more secure during those years. I have copies of the land and loan transactions made in 1943 and for some years thereafter. Someone else will have to tell that part of the story.

The negotiation for the purchase of the farm on Section 20 of Manns Township was in progress while I was at Seymour-Johnson Field in North Carolina preparing to go overseas. I was one of those who were not allowed a furlough at that time. It was also the month of August that my sister Lois was married. I did go into Greensboro, North Carolina to purchase a wedding gift. The gift was purchased at the J.C. Penney store. It was a hot day but a very kind clerk promised to see to the wrapping and mailing of the package.

Manns Township Farm House
1943-44

Northeast side of farm
1943

One thing that impressed me when I arrived home is that there was a 1928 Twin City Tractor and a 1943 Model B. John Deere tractor. The machinery was tractor drawn and some was new. There were only four horses and one of them was the colt born to the buckskin mare. Not only did my parents own a farm they had adopted a much different technology.

I think the period in service marks the separation from family and establishment of independence from them. I do not know whether it is a good or not so good event. It was a long period of 44 months not being connected with members of a family. Such a long period disconnects one also from the community of origin. We grow up and grow apart. I did not recognize my brother Marvin and asked my father who he was. Perhaps this is meant to be. Life deals out many things but we are in some sense always responsible for a family of origin. It is part of the journey to discover who we are. Perhaps we are never disconnected for memory calls us back to the events that shaped us. In many ways the memories of the years covered in this story are stronger than memories events that occur later.

One thing that I have discovered about my memories of events earlier or later is that they connect with people. The earlier memories are with Father and Mother. The later ones that are strong in my memory are those with my own family, with my students, and with colleagues. They are more people memories and are remembered because of people. I do not know that this is unique in any way. In one way I think my memories are different, I remember so much and those memories are very vivid and very visual even today. My hope is to have put them into words that adequately describe an adventure of life.