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“His Name is Romeo”
by Dan Baker
The massive Red Poll bull turned his head and gave an authoritative look at this ten year old farm boy. Little did I know at the time, this would be my introduction into the world of purebred livestock and would impact my life for years to come.
Unless you lived in the Crawford County, Ohio area or raised Red Polled cattle, you probably did not know Russell and Winnie McCurdy. The McCurdy’s lived on the farm settled by Russell’s ancestors back in the early 1800’s. It was across the road from the farm my father’s ancestors settled on during the same period.
The McCurdys were the perfect neighbors. Their two children, John and Ruth Ann and my two sisters Bonnie and Colleen made hundreds of trips back and forth. My brother Sam, fifteen years younger than me, also got into the act a little later on.
During one of those early childhood trips across the road, Russell was leading Romeo out of the barn for a walk. Very cautiously, I eased toward them. When I felt pretty sure Russell was in control, I began to listen as he described what made Romeo the “best bull in the country.” It was my first lesson in pedigree study and how the champions in Romeo’s ancestry helped make him this awesome bull. Also, one of his daughters Sally, was the top cow in his herd.
One cold, gray winter morning, Russell called and asked mom if I would like to go to a farm auction with he and John. I had never been to an auction and of course like any kid, needed little reason to get “out of the house” for a day.
There was always plenty of conversation riding with Russell and John as the old blue Studebaker truck rumbled along the country roads to the auction. Russell was hoping to buy a larger tractor to go with his John Deere B. This sale had a Case DC and would pull a three bottom plow (back then you were a pretty big farmer if your tractor pulled a three bottom).
When we arrived at the sale, I thought the whole world needed a Case tractor, people were everywhere. I can still see the big white hiproof barn in the background, farmers bundled up to protect themselves from the cold winds blowing across the pasture, moving in a tight circle around the auctioneers as they quickly moved from one piece of machinery to the next. Russell would explain what the auctioneers were saying and we soon had an understanding of the “lingo” and prices things were selling for. There were no PA systems or bidder numbers. If you purchased something, you just yelled your last name up to the clerk.
When the time came to sell the Case DC, I could sense the excitement as Russell made sure we were up close to the tractor. It got quiet as the farmer sadly climbed onto his tractor one last time and started the powerful orange machine. The auctioneer signaled for him to turn it off, then took his position standing on the tractor overlooking the crowd. As he started calling for bids, Russell winked and the auctioneer-bidder contract was established. When the auctioneer looked back to Russell for the last bid, he sort of looked dejectedly down at ground, shuffled his feet and said, “I’m out.”
There were plenty of questions and auction talk in the old Studebaker on the way home. As I was getting out of the truck at home, Russell said, “There is a Oliver 77 selling next week. If it is OK with your folks, do you want to ride along?” “Sure!” I yelled back. I was hooked!
Russell also raised Durocs. One fall day, Russell called and asked if “Danny would like to ride with he and John to a Duroc hog sale that evening.” The sale was on Elmer Steck’s farm, near Upper Sandusky, Ohio. I can vividly remember many things about this first hog sale, the “oil” smell, the people setting around the sale ring, Charlie Nash the auctioneer, Russell going over the pedigrees in the sale catalog with John and me and pointing out the different traits of the boars and gilts selling. However, what I remember most was a Duroc fieldman and how he put so much excitement and enthusiasm into this sale. I found myself watching him more than the sale itself. He obviously loved his job – his name was Paul Parrish.
Not every childhood experience with Russell was a life changer. He enjoyed coonhunting and invited me to join John and him for the “big hunt.” There were lots of woods in our area and so with guns in hand and anxious dogs we marched off into the pitch dark night. And we marched and marched and marched for what seemed like forever. We were on the “last leg” of the hunt when the dogs went wild with their hound dog howl. Russell yelled out “they got one treed”. Then all of a sudden things went real bad. The dogs boastful howl turn into the most pitiful whimpering sound I had ever heard followed by Russell’s alarming yell, “Skunk – head for the house!” I don’t know if there is a record for a man and two boys (one with short legs) out running dogs, out of the woods and clearing fences that would have normally taken five minutes for me to get over, but we sure had to come close to breaking it that lonely dark night in Crawford County, Ohio. I never went coonhunting again.
Sunday was a day of rest with most of the farmers in our area. Russell and Winnie were no exceptions. Winnie was a Sunday school teacher most of her life and Russell a trustee. It might be a beautiful sunny summer day but even thirty acres of alfalfa hay ready to bale and heavy rains in the forecast for Monday would not get the old New Holland 77 baler fired up. I guess that is why I feel a little uneasy with all of our Sunday shows and sales. I know we may say a prayer or have a service and say it is a family thing, but are we not stretching it a bit?
The last time I visited with Russell was a couple of years ago. Sandy and I were back in Bucyrus spending some time with my mother. The three of us went to a local restaurant for Sunday dinner. We were in the process of turning in our order when I looked over to the entrance and noticed Russell standing waiting to be seated. Of course we had him join our table. His hearing was pretty well gone in part due to the years of being a few feet from the roar of tractor “pipes.” So not only did we enjoy a lively discussion, the folks at the near by tables got to enjoy our conversion as well. Russell said his hearing was so bad that a couple of weeks earlier some one came in the restaurant and told him that his car was running. With his great smile and laughter that was always with him he said, “By golly, now you know your hearing is bad when you can’t hear your motor running.” “By golly” was as near to a cuss word as I ever heard from Russell.
Well into his eighties, he still had the passion to visit about the things that meant so much to him in life – Winnie, who had passed away several years earlier, his children and grand children, the church, local sports, 4-H and the county fair where he had showed his Red Poll cattle for 40 years. And yes, we even talked about Romeo! He sold the last of his cows in the spring of ‘97 and guess what? They all went back to the old Sally cow, a daughter of Romeo.
I will never forget looking up to see Russell standing in the restaurant entrance. The impact was different this time, standing straight and tall in his dark blue suit, his white hair and mustache, his ever alert blue eyes taking it all in. He seemed more like a statesman or scholar and now when I realize the impact he had on my life and the lives of many others, that is exactly what he was. He lived his Christian life making his part of the world a better place for all of us to live. One of Russell’s favorite chapters in the Bible was Proverbs Chapter 3. As I read this chapter, I understood why it was a favorite of his. He lived it!
The importance of our youth to our industry has never been more important for our survival. I worry that many of us in our adult years are not being good “Russell McCurdy’s.” We are not taking advantage of their need to hear the importance of the pedigree of a “purebred” animal and just because it “looks” like a purebred, that is just not good enough. They need to know there is but one date an animal is born on and how to ethically feed and show their champions. They need to learn this by instruction, but much more importantly, then need to learn this by the examples we live by.
I have been fortunate to have had many positive mentors in my “kid days” starting with Mom and Dad. We sure didn’t have any material riches around the old farm. But there was a lot of love and good imaginative fun in those hills and valleys out behind the barn. The lessons learned in those times have become priceless in the latter years. Sometimes I feel like I am coming up short in my responsibility of passing them on to the next generations.
I often wonder what direction my life would have taken if a farmer and his prize Red Poll bull hadn’t spent some time with the neighbor kid on a summer day out in the middle of nowhere. Now when someone asks if I ever studied Shakespeare, I say, “Yes – I was a great fan of Romeo.”
As many of you already know, Dan Baker will be leaving the NSR staff on April 1 to pursue other auctioneering opportunities and to spend more time with his family. He has served in various capacities in the purebred swine industry ever since his life was impacted by Russell McCurdy. Since September of 1995, Dan has played a key role in the success of this publication.
We want to thank him for sharing these thoughts from his heart and encourage you to watch for a tribute to Dan in the next issue.
