George Washington Carver: Scientist & Symbol

McMurry, Linda O. George Washington Carver: Scientist and Symbol. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981.



Tumbledown was a little annoyed by the adoring tone that sometimes seemed to permeate the descriptions of Carver in the early sections of the book, thinking they sometimes veared toward hagiography. This perception changed when, on closer inspection, it was obvious that the assessments that annoyed most were contemporary with the man. The sweeping generalizations--that Carver was a genius, a great teacher, a great lecturer, and the like--were for the most part embodied in numerous quotes from Booker T. Washington, James Wilson (former teacher at Iowa, and Secretary of Agriculture, head of USDA), and correspondence from Carver's students. Careful reading of this George Washington Carver biography reveals that the author, though sympathetic with the subject, is also critically aware of Carver's weaknesses. The refrain (also from Carver) that he was a starter and a dreamer, not a finisher, an inspirer of others and a popularizer, not a groundbreaker or highly original Tuskegee scientist (which is not to diminish the significance of his innovations on and original applications of already formulated ideas, especially, as McMurry suggests, in the direction of aiding those "fartherest down") is proof enough of a somewhat fair and balanced treatment. This, alongside descriptions of Carver's at times stormy relations with Bridgeforth and Washington, are enough to put thoughts of hagiography to rest. (The idea of Carver as symbol, especially of the New South, seems to be reaching a bit far. But even here the treatment is not unremittingly positive.)

Why would Tumbledown read and recommend this biography of a scientist and academic? Because Carver's life's work was dedicated to the improvement of small, diversified farms and their habitants at precisely the time that "most agricultural researchers were heading in another direction. Increasing amounts of federal and state funds were piped into mechanization and efficiency projects that aided the big agribusiness units, not the small farmer" (p. 92). Carver, as everyone knows, taught farmers to grow more than one crop--to supplement cotton with peanuts and sweet potatoes. (Though less famously, Carver also experimented with and recommended soybeans and alfalfa and the raising of animals on Southern farms.) Though the Tuskegee web site hardly mentions Carver (Booker T., the other "Washington" is everywhere lauded), the title of this year's Annual Farmers Conference is a continuing tribute to Carver's interests and influence: "Sustainable Small-Scale Family Farms in the Southern Black Belt: Nurturing the Land and its people."

Overall, an excellent introduction into an important subject--and an easy read for an academic title. Though the book does not provide the details (peanut recipes or specific crop recommendations) of Carver's work, it is well documented and therefore provides a beginning point for further research into this important contributor to the welfare of small, diversified farms. And what could be better for Black History Month?

Additional Reading:
Holt, Rackham. George Washington Carver: An American Biography. Doubleday, Doran and Company, 1943.

Crop Rotation for Ugly Tomatoes

Tumbledown read with interest and appreciation Verlyn Klinkenborg's rip of winter tomatoes and riff on the tasty virtues of the UglyRipe. (NYTimes, Editorial Notebook, January 31, 2007, "Growing the Winter Tomato.") The editorial waxed almost poetical about casting aside the cardboard texture and bland non-flavor of the perfectly round, firm (hard as rocks) artificially colored (gassed) red balls usually dubbed "tomatoes" by the local supermarket produce aisle--in favor of lumpier, unevenly colored flavor bombs, a.k.a., the UglyRipes.

But Klinkenborg stops short of a full endorsement of this new tomato because the UglyRipe's growers (Santa Sweets) use "methyl bromide, a powerful, ozone-depleting pesticide, to fumigate the soil in which conventional UglyRipes grow." The point for Klinkenborg is that fresh tomatoes in winter--whether the terrible ones we are used to or the better ones we have yet to taste--are not worth the methyl bromide cost. Tumbledown would add that there are other unacceptable costs to be tallied. The expectation that Indiana residents should enjoy "fresh" winter tomatoes is dangerously irrational; the delusion is especially not worth the diesel fuel used to ship them. But if we continue pouring carbon into the atmosphere at the rate we have been in order to ship fresh tomatoes to Indiana in January, global warming may yet provide Tumbledown with ripe February tomatoes before he expires for good.

And what about the methyl bromide? According to Klinkenborg, "under the terms of the Montreal Protocol, the use of methyl bromide was supposed to be phased out completely by January 2005." Why? Because it depletes the ozone. According to the EPA sheet on the phaseout, the exemptions are allowed for "agricultural users with no technically or economically feasible alternatives." So, what pests are these Florida tomato farmers killing with this "indispensable" pesticide for which there are no "feasible alternatives"? The pests are the usual culprits for tomato growers, nematodes and Verticillium and Fusarium wilts. (See the whining by the growers on the USDA research site.) Every gardener contends with them. (See the entry on tomatoes in any of the most basic gardening books: e.g., IDG's Vegetable Gardening for Dummies or Rodale's All-New Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening; or any basic text about agronomy and crop management.) And the most feasible alternatives to methyl bromide have been known for centuries. What are they? Try crop rotation...and acceptance of naturally uninflated yields! (Every description of crop rotation for the past 100 years has emphasized its effectiveness against pests and diseases. See the Cyclopedia of American Agriculture, Vol. II; or Andrew Boss' Farm Management; or the concluding section of Wilson and Warburton's book on Field Crops for a history of crop rotation and a description of its practice.) So, why has the obvious--crop rotation as a form of pest control--the better alternative, been rejected? Because it would take 2/3 (in a three-year rotation) to 4/5 (in a five-year rotation) or more of the tomato acreage out of production in any given year and a reduction in artificially inflated yields. In other words, tomato production would become localized or highly regionalized, and seasonal, and places like Indiana would have to go without, or pay extravagant prices for, the "luxury" of "winter" tomatoes.

Could such be done in Indiana? Yes. It was done by Helen and Scott Nearing from 1932 in the much harsher climate of Vermont and Maine. (The Good Life) But it cannot be done without a change in the way we eat. Eat what comes naturally to your locality. I think that must have been Klinkenborg's point.

Tumbledown Farm

Sowing Seeds, Spreading Manure

"Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” (John 12:24-25 NRSV)

“So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is fit neither for the soil nor for the manure pile; they throw it away. Let anyone with ears to hear listen!" (Luke 14:33-35 NRSV)

Tumbledown recalls these words of Jesus as he looks through brightly colored seed catalogs on gray days in January and February. In fact, he is behind on such thinking this year. The seed order ought to be in the mail by now. Soon, even in Indiana, it will be time to start the tomatoes and peppers inside under the lights to give them a head start on summer. This year the Burpee catalog sports the New Porterhouse Beefsteak Tomato, “sure to beat any record in the neighborhood.” (But I’ll bet Burpee never went up against any real tomato growers. The tomato competition is fierce in this neck of the woods.)

The picture on the cover is of bright red, perfectly shaped, 4 lb. tomatoes. These purveyors of seed know better than to put pictures of the shriveled up seeds on the cover. They are selling us the plump and juicy fruit at the apex of life, even though it is the tiny dry seed that will arrive in our mailbox. Tumbledown always seems to buy more seed than he can possibly use, because he is sold on these pictures of its potential. His eyes are bigger by far than his garden. But he also never plants quite enough of the seed he over-buys. Sometimes seed packets go unopened, unused. Sometimes they keep until next year, but mostly they must be discarded, lifeless, the potential for 4 lb. tomatoes wasted. Better--even in a Tumbledown garden, where not much reaches its full catalog potential--to put the seed in the ground than to keep it sitting on the shelf.

There is another substance coveted by gardeners that works the same way. Tumbledown gets his from a farmer friend. Tumbledown's mother-in-law reminded him of it this Christmas with a famous quote by Thornton Wilder from “The Matchmaker,” “Money is like manure; it's not worth a thing unless it's spread around encouraging young things to grow.” (Actually, my mother-in-law attributed the quote to the title character of “Hello, Dolly!” … but from Wilder the quote sounds more literary and highfalutin.) The quote has also been famously attributed to the likes of Francis Bacon and John Paul Getty, who may have had a nodding acquaintance with the attributes of money. Whoever said it, the quote is widely used, so the resemblance must be remarkable. The quote is usually concluded—usually by a politician—with the comment that manure, if piled up in one place, just stinks to high heaven.

I doubt that Burpee sells much manure, but if they did, they would probably try to sell it like they do their seeds, with pictures of ripe red berries and tomatoes.

You’ve often heard what Jesus said about seeds and manure piles, and about money. But mostly Jesus was talking about life—his and ours. To convince us, he reminds us of the “much fruit” that will result from our death. Better to spread the wealth and lose our own life, better to plant the seeds and watch another generation of green things grow up, than to leave the seeds to sit on the shelf and store up the manure in stinky piles.

Now, where did I put that order form?

Tumbledown Farm

Payne Hollow: Life on the Fringe of Society

Hubbard, Harlan. Payne Hollow: Life on the Fringe of Society. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 1974.



This book is an easy, quick read (167 pp., 4"X5", relatively large print, with Harlan's sketches scattered throughout). It is one couple's story--that of Anna (not a farmer, "town bred" ..."with high standards of respectability and cleanliness," a former librarian) and Harlan (a "shantyboater"). After taking a shantyboat down the Ohio, into the Mississippi and on to New Orleans, they spend some time in Bayou country along the Intracoastal Canal. There they sold their shantyboat and returned by car to a suburban house on the banks of the Ohio River.

The point of the book is the decision to live small. Though the couple could have enjoyed the relative comfort of a house in the center of suburban society, they chose to rent out that house and pursue a less cluttered life for themselves on the "fringe." They returned to Payne Hollow, a place along the Ohio where they had tethered their shantyboat for a summer, swallowed their "drifter and squatter" principles enough to purchase the small holding, and build their shelter with their own hands, raising their own food (garden and goats), living close to nature and telling their own version of The Good Life (Helen and Scott Nearing's tale of similar adventure).

This book is not for the person wanting to learn "how to" set up his or her own homestead. The lessons are writ large, not with the sort of detail needed to emulate the Hubbards. However, for the person needing inspiration to live well, now--especially for the person who feels confined, smothered, and oppressed by the constraints of today's polite consumer society and needs the encouragement and confidence that life can be lived bare bones, this is just the shot in the arm or kick in the pants to send you over the edge.

World's Best Thumbprint Cookies

There has never been a better, more delicious thumbprint cookie, ever! In the blog entry about the Little Red Hen, Tumbledown described the process of harvesting winter wheat with the scythe, threshing and winnowing the grain in preparation for grinding and baking. Today, Tumbledown tasted the fruit of his efforts. The result is so wonderful he must share it with all of you. First, of course, we must grind the winter wheat.

Tumbledown's hand mill is one of the cheapest made, a Porkert from Lehman's (a version is also available from Johnny's, and even more Grain Mills at Amazon.com). There are much better mills to be had, for a price, but the point is to grow and grind your own. If you can afford it, there is nothing like working with good tools to make for satisfaction. If not, don't sweat it; this mill works just fine.

After grinding two cups of flour from the remaining wheat (which Tumbledown stores in plastic containers in a refrigerator), preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup of real butter

1/2 cup of shortening

1/2 teaspoon of salt

1/2 cup of sugar

2 eggs (separated)

2 cups of freshly ground flour

2 teaspoons of vanilla extract

2 cups of finely chopped walnuts (or pecans, in a pinch)

1 pint of fresh Raspberry jam preserves from the fall harvest.

1 cup of powdered sugar.

Instructions:

In a large mixing bowl cream the shortening and butter with the sugar and 2 egg yolks. Add vanilla and beat for 1 minute. Combine salt and flour and add to previous mixture, continuing to stir and knead ingredients until it reaches the consistency of a firm dough. Form individual cookies by pinching off small amounts of dough and rolling them into balls (each about the size of a golf ball). Dip the balls of dough into a small bowl containing the two egg whites and then roll a layer of chopped nuts onto the surface of each ball. Place the balls on a parchment covered cookie sheet (or, if you like to scrub, onto an ungreased cookie sheet) allowing a space about the size of a cookie between each cookie. Bake for five minutes at 375 degrees. Remove cookie sheet from oven and create a hole in the center of each cookie (using your thumb, if you do not mind burns, or an object of similar size). Fill the hole with raspberry jam. Return the cookie sheet to the oven and continue baking for 5-7 minutes.

Remove from the oven. Let them cool. Place them on holiday plates and drizzle powdered sugar on top. Beautiful, festive, and delicious!

Tumbledown Farm

E. coli redivivus: Deja vu all over again in the city

Spinach anyone? Or perhaps you would prefer California scallions and green onions, or iceberg lettuce? As of today (12/14/2006), the FDA (citing CDC data) is reporting a total of 71 cases of E. coli infection in five states, with 53 hospitalizations in the latest outbreak. This time, rather than the fresh iceberg lettuce sold in bags at the grocery store, the agency for dissemination appears to have been the prepared entres of the fast food chain Taco Bell.

While not as large or devastating (yet, in terms of death) as the September outbreak in Spinach, this lettuce mess is another reminder that industrialized, centralized food production and distribution is a tragedy waiting to happen...yet again. (See Eric Schlosser's NYTimes editorial, "Has Politics Contaminated the Food Supply?" though his argument for an increase, and yet more centralization, in the bureaucratic regulation, inspection and oversight of our food--instead of a real solution, like returning to highly diversified, local food production--is short sighted.)

For Tumbledown's analysis of the causes and cures for this public health menace, see the previous five entries under "food safety."

Finally, Tumbledown has a bone to pick with the NYTimes guest blogger Steven Johnson (The Link Between Cities and Terror). Tumbledown tried to respond to Johnson's entry, but instead of being edited down, Tumbledown was edited out. So, here's the essence of the response: The solution to the problem posed by Johnson is the same as the solution to the increased industrialization and centralization of food production and distribution. Move (back) to the farm! ...but that's a solution Johnson has already dismissed as impractical or impossible. Too bad it is the only real solution proposed by any reader to Johnson's appeal for conversation.

In an earlier blog, Steven Johnson twice claimed that city dwellers subsidize the existence of farmers. ("[I]t is an undeniable fact that the big cities are footing the bill for the residents of so-called 'real America.' Blue states consistently pay more in taxes than they receive in federal assistance; the opposite is true for the red states." And "[i]t’s another thing for city dwellers to be lectured about urban depravity and the 'heartland' way of life, when cities are partially subsidizing that way of life." Real America, November 20, 2006)

Even if Johnson's numbers are accurate, the statistic lies. (The truth always depends on what you count and what you value.) For example, it does not "cost" much to drive a car, until you start to factor the cost of carbon emissions. (What will be the cost of keeping New York dry--or, more timely, post-Katrina New Orleans--when the waters start to rise from global warming?) Johnson forgets that in a debate about what is "real," food always wins. As Gene Logsdon says, "there's a difference between money growth and biological growth." (Living at Nature's Pace, "Traditional Farming," p. 86.) Crops do not grow at the same (exponential) rate as money. Or, to say it yet another way, real things do not grow at the pace of virtual reality. Real food for city people is subsidized because we do not "count" the costs of rural decline due to the industrialization of food production, or the real cost that "inputs" like fuel and chemical fertilizer extract from our environment. City food today is subsidized to a tune far greater than the difference between tax receipts and the government dole to states. It is subsidized, not by tax receipts from the city, but by borrowing from our future. People who live in cities cannot produce their own food--and they cannot live without it. So, what's the "real" value of stable rural towns and villages?

Let Tumbledown know when you city folk get hungry. Perhaps we country folk will be able to spare a green bean or two. ...just don't all come to dinner at once, please.

Tumbledown Farm

Chocolate Christmas Caramels

Tumbledown just had to have some chocolate caramel with his egg nog this evening, so away he went to try a hundred-year-old chocolate caramel recipe from the 1919 Farm Journal book How to Do Things. OK, so Tumbledown's candy-making skills were a little rusty, but how can you go wrong with a bar of Ghirardelli chocolate (grated),

a pint (2 cups) of sugar, a pint (2 cups) of honey and molasses, a tablespoon of vanilla extract, and a half cup of heavy cream?

Well, for starters, you will need a 4 quart sauce pan. (Tumbledown had only a 3 quart pan.) A candy thermometer is a must if you do not want to check the mixture constantly by dropping it in water until you reach the "soft ball" stage, and you'll need the big baking pans (buttered) to spread the stuff a quarter inch thick.

(Tumbledown's caramel is at least 1/2 inch, which means it cools far too slowly.)

Still, that rich, dark, chocolate taste sets off a glass of egg nog...just right!

mmmmm.

Tumbledown Farm