Scanning my annual social security statement, I think back to my first official, “paying job.” Well actually, my first paying job was as a babysitter for children in our neighborhood, at a rate of 50 cents per hour. My real, official, social security card required-job was detasseling corn. For those of you not from the Midwest, this is a “thing,” and still exists today, although it is a more sophisticated industry than that which we experienced back then.
There were four of us—Sissy, Anne, who was Sissy’s best friend, my friend Jenny, and I. We signed on to detassel corn after Anne’s father arranged for us to work for a local seed company during the summer. The company was about 30 minutes from our hometown of Evansville, which meant we needed to commit to getting up very early and heading down the road before the sun had barely peeked over the horizon. The best news of that summer job was that it paid 85 cents an hour, which was a far cry from babysitting wages and dirty diapers. The better news was, if we stayed on-board for the entire detasseling season, we received a bonus, and that sounded like a great deal.
Mother prepared bag lunches for us every day, which more than likely consisted of cherry preserves on white bread with margarine wrapped in waxed paper. This “not so healthy” concoction was a typical lunch staple for us whether it was camp, school or detasseling corn. Easy to prepare and inexpensive. There may have been chips, fruit or Hostess Twinkies in our lunches, but am certain that no sandwiches made with mayonnaise would have made the list. Mother was very particular about unrefrigerated mayonnaise. That is a different story.
Regardless of what was in our lunch bags, we were pumped for this adventure. More money, out of the house all day spending time with friends, and the potential to yes, meet boys. This job was for all takers regardless of gender, and we would be joining a group of teens from across the area. Hopefully we might have a boy or two on our crew. The real goal was to make it to the end of the season-whoever was part of our crew-and collect that bonus. Needless to say, we didn’t know what was ahead of us, nor that the attrition rate for dropping off was fairly, and the ability to stay onboard the entire season had its challenges.
Let me count the ways Elizabeth Barrett Browning!
We had no choice but to get out of bed before the sun came up in order to ready ourselves for the early morning commute. Our parents were on carpool duty because we weren’t old enough to drive, and they gladly rotated that responsibility between them. The four of us, with lunches and water in tow, scrambled into our ride for the day and made off down the road to the cornfields of southern Indiana and whatever awaited us.
For those of you who don’t know what detasseling corn entails, the best explanation I can give is that it helps in cross-pollination of seed corn. We were tasked with removing the tassels, which is the male part of the corn stalk, and then throwing them on the ground, so that they could pollinate with the female part of the corn, which sits lower on the stalk. Every other row was detassled to allow for this process. I’m sure you totally understand now. If not, you can find a video on YouTube further explaining the process. Isn’t the digital world grand?
On our first day, we were assigned to a crew, which included the four of us, several other teens, and a supervisor. The supervisor drove the “tractor-of sorts” riding down multiple rows of corn at a time. We stood in metal baskets which stood level or just below the top of the stalks. Two of us were assigned to each basket and as we drove through the rows, we pulled the tassels out and discarded them quickly in order to not miss that next corn tassel. It was as simple as that.
The weather was hot and humid, and the work was grueling and hard, but it was also fun. We acquired a bit of perseverance along the way , a lot of patience, and new friends. No smartphones, no iPods, no luxury. We worked a full day and usually left dirty, dusty, tired, thirsty and hungry. I imagine at some point during the drive home, one or more of us fell asleep leaning on the shoulders of one another. Staying up too late at night was not an issue. We were exhausted.
That was the routine on sunny days. On days that it rained or after a night of drenching rain, we walked through the fields on foot. No one told us we would have to walk through muddy corn fields, with a level of heat and humidity that enveloped and stifled us. Pull down the stalk, pull out the tassel, swipe away the bugs, and try not to cut your hands, arms and legs on the sharp corn leaves filling the small spaces between the rows. These were the worst days of the summer.
My friend Jenny only lasted one day. She was always fair-skinned and unlike me, who tans easily and rarely burns, she looked like a red tomato after just one day. The combination of heat and sun just did her in. No one faulted her for quitting. She was one of many casualties of the detasseling brigade.
Throughout the summer, we experienced aching joints, bad weather and calloused, cut hands. A shower or bath at the end of the day was a great relief. Our supervisor told us about Cornhuskers Lotion® for soothing our aching hands, and we went through bottles of it. An emollient , it was originally developed by Iowa corn farmers whose hands were regularly exposed to harsh condition. Still made today, you can find it at Walmart for $2.79 a bottle-so the ad declares.
Thank you Iowa farmers! Your invention was a life saver; I don’t’ know what we would have done without Cornhuskers Lotion®.
In spite of the challenges, we made it through the season, and we received our bonus. And, we actually returned the following summer for another round of cornfields. Minus Jenny, of course.
Since that time, the retelling of the story of detasseling corn has provided great cocktail conversations as an adult. Taking on responsibility and commitment, being a team player, seeing a job through to the very end, and learning the value of a dollar earned as a result of hard work–all of these components of that experience served us well. How many girls do you know who took to the cornfields in the early sixties and ended up as girls with advanced degrees and stellar professionals in their fields of study? I know at least three. Maybe everyone should take a stint in a cornfield, detasseling corn, and experiencing a different way of life. It was a valuable life lesson and not a bad gig after all.
In memory of Anne, Sissy’s long and enduring best friend and our fellow farm laborer. May she rest in peace.