Kewaunee County History: Silos

As small farms fade farther and farther into the past, once proud barns deteriorate and old silos standing sentinel crumble. As an entire rural history dims, deteriorates and crumbles with all the rest, an old Pennsylvania Dutch adage comes to mind. True as it was in Lancaster County - “A plump wife and a full barn never did a man any harm” - was just as true in Kewaunee County. In 1900 it was true all over, however times - and what works or doesn’t or what is healthy or not - have changed.

On March 1, 1941, Lawrence and Millie rented, with the option to buy, what was known as the Miller farm on Highway 42 south of Algoma. Not long after the couple ended their five-year rental in March 1946, the significantly improved farm was purchased. The young couple relocated to the Town of Carlton where they bought the old McNally farm, a place chock full of history that was swallowed up years later with the advent of the nuclear plant

Just eighteen when his father died, Lawrence promised to remain on the farm caring for his mother and six younger siblings. Leaving school following his confirmation, he worked alongside his father who knew the young man had what it takes. Lawrence continued to consult with his father even when Pa was confined to the sickbed and dying. Including his father in a decision about buying a horse, the horse was brought to the bedroom window so Pa could pass judgment and be satisfied with the purchase.

As the eldest son charged with the task of keeping the family together, it was understood that the farm would still pass to his youngest brother as tradition dictated. The youngest son was then responsible for the care of the parents in their declining years. The year before his youngest brother registered for the World War ll draft in 1941, Lawrence and two of his sister married. At 32 Lawrence was a little older than average when he married Millie, 11 years his junior. Farmers generally were not drafted for World War ll, a time when it was assumed some non-farmers bought farms just to evade military service.

The young marrieds stayed on the family farm for the first season after their wedding, working the farm while seeking one to purchase themselves, and buying furniture for their eventual home. During the winter, the Miller farm in the Town of Pierce came up for rent with an option to buy. Feeling the rent of $500 per year plus payment of taxes was fair, the couple moved to the farm. $13,000 was the farm’s asking price, a price they felt was too high because the new Highway 42 separated the house and barn, both of which were in poor condition. What they really didn’t like was the in-ground silo.

The Miller farm’s 28’ silo went down into the ground, rather than up as a traditional silo is built. Rats that plagued the farm often fell into the silo. Farmers climb up into conventional silos, however getting into the in-ground silo wasn’t as easy. To get silage out, a bucket was lowered on a track – much like a bucket going into a well - filled and then pulled up. If Lawrence had to go into the silo, he tied his pant legs because of the rats. Build up of methane gas had to be addressed. Being built down below the barn floor rather than being outdoors, with the exception of the opening, the pit was covered with timbers and boards that were covered over with hay. That silo was dangerous and there there was next to nothing that was good about it. The day Lawrence almost fell in was well etched in his memory. This faith-filled man knew it was more than good fortune smiling on him when he managed to catch his arms on the timbers, able to drag himself up. 

The farm had not yet been sold in March 1946 when Millie and Lawrence’s contract terminated, and because they had not yet purchased their own farm, they had to sell the herd as there was no place to go with the cows. Cow buyers came when the couple was not at home, and when they arrived a short time later, the cows were milling about and walking in the barn floor. The buyers were inspecting the cows, not knowing about the in-ground silo. It was more than good fortune that day too because there was no loss of life or injuries to the buyers or the cattle.

Whether the in-ground silo brought more rats than any other is anyone’s guess, however rats were always a problem. Perhaps they came from a neighboring abandoned farm. Perhaps the chicken coop attracted the rats too. Putting out strychnine was the only way to get rid of them. Each evening the chickens were locked in the coop. After using the strychnine, the couple easily picked up a bushel of rats each morning. In the day, such an incredible story was called “talking through your hat.” Milkman Ed Hunsader thought so too until the day he arrived early and saw them himself.

There were other in-ground Kewaunee County silos that are long forgotten. If any remain, who would know they were there unless someone fell in? Beautiful square stone silos can still be found on farms in southern Kewaunee County, but mostly it is the squatty round silos that have survived, outlasting the barns that stood next to them.

There were few silos in the U.S. before the mid-1890s, however a mere 10 or 15 years later they were springing up all over. A silo was not an easy sell to a dairy farmer though. The University of Wisconsin advocated silos as a way to preserve crops for winter feeding. Since dairy cattle were pastured from spring to fall, that diet increased milk production, thus affecting the farmer's economic interests. If the same cow could be fed silage, reasoning was that milk production would increase during the winter, a historically low time for milk production. There were those who were sure the silage was bad for a cow’s stomach, affected proper digestion and even made the cow sick. For some time, silos were controversial. They also cost money. But, so did maintaining the herd during the long months of scanty production.

The concept of silos was not really anything new. Ancient Romans and Greeks used air-tight pits for storing grain, documented by Roman writers, and contemporary Europeans continued working on methods ensuring preservation of the summer harvest. It was well-known by the pioneering settlers that keeping vegetables in a pit - sometimes the well pit - would preserve food for use during the winter.

Horizontal, or pit silos – much like Lawrence and Millie’s – were introduced in the U.S. during the 1870s. They were built of wood or stone and either dug partially or entirely into the ground. Square vertical silos came about 10 years later. They too were wood or stone. The shape was a problem as air pockets were created in the corners. Sometimes the walls bowed out. Silage rotted more easily and few square silos were built after about 1900. Round silos came into vogue and were far superior to the others. Wooden silos deteriorated while brick and cement became the construction method of choice. Cement stave silos were popular, but are no longer built. Harvestores (below) became the silo of choice a generation ago although today's farmers tend toward bunkers and flat storage in plastic bags, allowing for far speedier access. Though towering cement silos are still seen at grain elevators and steel silos are built at rail heads, silos are rarely built on the mega farms that have replaced the small family farms that shaped much of the country.

Wisconsin Historical Society says Wisconsin has more silos than any other state. Driving the highways and byways of the state, the iconic structures stand out, begging to be noticed. Newer silos with manufactured domes often have the manufacturer’s name imprinted. The concrete squatty silos built before World War ll often sport some decorative piece reaching skyward as the builder’s trademark. One traveling Highway 54 between Algoma and Green Bay will spot at least 9 of William Diefenbach’s silos. He left his mark with a cement ball mid-way up a steel rod. Look hard to see one or two others off the highway. Traveling the side roads proves how busy Diefenbach and many other builders were more than 70 or 80 years ago.

Lonely silos tell a story of agrarian roots, the small family farms and folks like Lawrence and Millie who are no longer there. To see a dilapidated barn and no silo means that searching the area will probably yield footings or a ring of a once proud silo, a place where there was once a story. And there probably still is if one looks hard enough.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald; Blogger's interview with Millie, WHS farm facts; Wikipedia;  
ad from Algoma Record Herald; blogger's photos.