No one asked me about getting caught in the power take off!

 

I met a man this week from Missouri; the first thing I noticed about him was that he had a hook rather than a right hand. Then I realized his entire right arm was prosthesis.  He was standing in front of my table where I was selling LeisaB jewellery to the cruise ships, so I asked him about it.  

He explained that he had become caught in the power take off of a farm machine and lost his entire arm.  “Oh my”,  I exclaimed “the same thing happened to me but quick thinking on the part of a truck driver saved me from losing a limb”.  And we shared our stories.



I would have been standing at the place of the girl in red
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was fifteen that rainy fall Sunday when I became entangled in the Harvester.  We were employed by McCain Produce and did not normally dig on Sundays. However it had been a rainy difficult fall and there were still a lot of potatoes in the ground.  It was cold and drizzly and I was wearing a green oil cloth slicker that was popular in the sixties. 

 

Perhaps I nodded off, over reached to grab a rock at any rate I realized that the sleeve of my jacket was caught in the power take off at the end of the conveyor belt and it was slowly chewing me in!  I screamed and pulled.  The harvesters are very noisy, no one heard me and I made little head way in my battle with the machine.  Soon I was on my knees, my glasses had disappeared and my hair was caught as well.

 

Everything went black.  When I opened my eyes the machinery had all stopped and men were cutting me out of the auger.  My jacket was ripped to shreds, and a section of hair from behind my right ear was missing, scalp and all.  The blood poured, I was sure I was dying.  I don’t remember much more. I think they took me to the hospital and patched me up.

after my hair cut!
 

 

McCain’s shut down all the harvesters and sent out mechanics and sheet metal. Not a wheel rolled until all the augers and power take offs were enclosed. 

I later learned that Laurence Claire, a neighbour from Gordonsville, had been driving the truck under our harvester.  Laurence was wonderful in the field and was always checking on people and machines. He saw my plight, jumped from his truck and ran to the tractor, which was pulling the harvester, and shut it off.  Laurence definitely saved my arm and maybe even my life.

 

I did not go back to the field that year; in fact I did not go back for many years. McCain’s paid me for every hour the harvesters were in the fields.  And no one ever asked me about getting caught in the potato harvester!

No one asked me about driving combine

 

It was the fall of 1966.  Potato break was fast approaching. For the uninitiated Potato Break is a three week school holiday in Carleton and Victoria Counties in New Brunswick, Canada.  The potato break, for which students begin classes in August to make up the time, had been instituted in 1960 and I was glad to have the opportunity to work in the harvest and earn some much needed money.   I was really anxious for this fall as it would be my second year working on a potato harvester for McCain Foods.  This was a major step up from picking potatoes.  But it was not to be.

 

A few days before the beginning of potato break we had a visitor. A car rolled in, a man got out and went to the barn or the field or where ever my Father could be found. This was normal practice in our community; however this time the male visitor soon came to the house and asked for me.  Leslie Bell was the visitor, he was a friend and neighbour and as a young teen I had followed his courtship and marriage with great interest.   Now there were one or two cute little Bell boys in their big house on the hill.

 

Leslie and Mona Bell

“I have a job for your,” Leslie said.

“Oh no,” I thought, “I do not want to babysit!”

“Oh…..”

“Yes, I want you to drive my new combine.”

“But I am going to work on the harvester for McCain’s”, I replied.

“I really need you”, said Leslie “and I will pay you an extra dollar an hour more than McCain’s”!!

“Well …………I am flattered but why me?  There are lots of men available!”  I have never heard of a woman; much let a girl, driving a harvester.  They are big machines which cut down standing grain, thresh out the oats (in our case) and spew that grain out into a truck which drives alongside.  The harvester also bales the straw and kicks it out to the other side. Multi functions, many opportunities for break down.

 

 

“I could get a young guy”, said Leslie, “but they would tear the machine apart and older men will not listen to my instructions.  Actually Mona (his wife) suggested you.  I have my grain to cut plus many others, including your father’s.”

Early one crisp fall morning saw me waiting for Leslie, yes he picked me up and delivered me and supplied me with lunches and snacks and water and chewing gum!  The combine was everything he said; it had a cab, a comfortable seat and even a radio.  Laurence Clair was driving the hopper truck and we were good to go.  Leslie gave me the instructions for the first field.  This is not as easy as it seems, some fields were cut working back and forth, some you worked all four sides.  It was important that the field was planned out so you dropped you baled straw on cut area and made the most efficient use of the grain.  I followed instructions. 

Driving combine was perfect job for me.  I drove slow and steady, actually just putted along.  Laurence or Leslie changed the rolls of baller twine before they ran out so we had no fouls in that area.  The days whizzed by, it was a perfect fall and we missed no time for rainy days or days to let the grain dry.  A windy weekend made one field a challenge and Leslie had to drive the tricky bit where the oats had gone down.  I was happy with my job and my employer and Leslie was happy with me. I could not believe my hefty pay when the three weeks were over. 

I never again drove a harvester, by the next fall I was married and pregnant, and I do not think Leslie ever hired another female, (although Janice Bell would have been a good driver when she was in her late teens).  And no one ever asked me about diving combine.