I almost missed them during a recent afternoon walk through a patch of woods.
Hidden beneath a thick tangle of wild grape vines and thorns lay the clues of agriculture’s past.
Arranging in neat, straight rows stood the stones that once formed the foundations of barns, outbuildings and a house. Decades of decomposing leaves and tree limbs appeared to be gradually swallowing the stones back into the earth.
Questions surfaced in my mind: What did the buildings that were supported by the foundations look like? What were they used for? Why did they disappear?
Later, when I had the opportunity to speak to Marge Sauer, I learned the story behind the stones.
Sauer, 85, was born on the Fisher Dairy Farm, a 100-acre family farm. The foundations supported the barns, outbuildings and the house that comprised the farm; the surrounding land supported a family.
The farm is gone now, having crumbled decades ago. Some of the fields have reverted back into forest, and the factories of an industrial park claimed the rest.
The farm was located at the corner of Middle Road and Ashley Street in what is now an urban area. If you look at the site today you would never guess that a rather large, self-sufficient family farm once called this place home. You would never suspect that a family was raised inside a large farmhouse that had two kitchens and three coal stoves. You wouldn’t have a clue that the farm’s 60 Holstein cows produced enough milk to feed Wilkes-Barre City residents, Hanover School District students and children in the pediatric ward at Mercy Hospital.
But the evidence can be found in the photos that Sauer saved inside an old, worn album.
Flipping through the photo album is like taking a walk back in time. Actually, you don’t flip through it at all. You take your time and ponder at the details captured in each black and white photo that dates back to the 1930s.
You find yourself marveling at the mountainous stacks of hay piled on wooden wagons. You can feel the sweat, the itchy hay dust and the calloused hands that heaved each pitchfork full of hay. You can hear the horses as they laboriously pull the wagons to the open barn doors, offering you a peek inside the dark, vast hayloft.
You can sense the pride in Aloysius Fisher, the patriarch of the farm family, as he holds one of his children while standing before a few valued possessions – a dependable team of horses, an automobile and his barn.
The scene in one photo of a cow nursing her calf tells of a busy day. In the barn behind the cow, a ladder and conveyor are extended into the upper reaches of the loft, a sign that someone was unloading a bountiful crop. Doors are open on the barns, and a buggy and other equipment wait to be parked back in their proper places when the day finally ends.
Other pictures hint not only at hard work, but of a strong family bond. Two young children stand alongside the milk wagon emblazoned with “Fisher Dairy” and “Hanover Township” on the side. They were the envy of the rest of the Fisher kids as they accompanied the milk wagon to make a delivery to “town.”
The pictures also symbolize a routine – a crucial component to a family farm that earned a livelihood by milking cows twice a day. By all appearances, the flock of chickens and a few ducks in one photo knew it was their daily feeding time when Aloysius’ wife, Catherine Alles Fisher, walked over with the tin feed pail. No doubt feeding time for the chickens was a noisy affair.
The Fisher Farm was a diverse operation – raising livestock, grain and produce. Threshing grain and lugging burlap sacks filled with oats, barley or rye surely resulted in a sore back at the end of the day.
Although hard work was the basis of the Fisher Farm, the family also took time to enjoy and appreciate what they had. A picture of three little pigs leaning over a fence undoubtedly reminded the person behind the camera of a well-known folktale.
Another photo reflects the pride that Aloysius felt as he looked over his herd of dairy cows while they ventured to the pasture after the morning milking. Behind them sit the farmhouse and barns amid the rolling hills and fields, which today is replaced by factories and busy roads.
The Fisher Dairy Farm represented a time when the pace of life was slower and things were simpler, even if the work was hard.
The farm survived into the early 1940s, according to Sauer. Today, just about every physical reminder of it are gone. But there are hints. In the woods before the industrial park entrance, in addition to the old foundations, you can find traces of furrows left behind the old moldboard plows that were pulled behind a team of horses. A line of enormous oak trees tower over the rest of the forest, relics that grew along the stone walls that divided the Fisher family’s fields.
The great barns and cozy farmhouse were torn down long ago. Holstein cows will never graze the hillsides again, and crops will never germinate in the soil. The farm is just a memory, like many of the other turn-of-the-century farms that once dominated the area.
Fortunately, Marge Sauers’ photo album ensure that the family farm will never be forgotten.
Previously published in the Times Leader, November 26, 2006.
