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STATE Massachusetts
NA. OF WORKER Wade Van Dore
ADDRESS New Wrlborough, Massachusetts
DATE January 6, 1939
SUBJECT Living Lore
NAME AND ADDRESS OF INFORMANT Johann Schiller
New Marlborough, Massachusetts
Mr. Schiller, of German descent, is about
75 years of age. He is a tall, distinguidhed
looking, vigorous man, still capable of per-
forming a fulL day's hard pllysical labor.
There is almost a military straightness and
trimness in his mein. His white hair is cut
short; his complexion is as clear as a schoolboy's.
He spent his early years in New York City but now
lives with an elderly Yankee farmer on an isolated
farm in western Massachusetts, two miles from the
nearest neighbor. These two men are almost
completely self-sufficient; they do all their own
work and raise most of their food. Modernity
has scarcely touched them. Their house has not
a single modern convenience; they do not own a
car. The farm now appears like a high oasis of
pasture and hayfield in a desert of woods and
brush. Almost every day half -tame deer come to
feed on the grass in the fields. Days sometimes
pass before a vehicle goes by on the gravel road
in front of the house. It is a country of hawks,
owls, foxes, and rabbits. he house and farm
buildings are unpainted, and in the summer their
weather -worn boards appear almost black in the
heavy shade of old maple trees. There is no
litter about. Farming tools, wood -piles, pails
and other necessaries are always seen in their
given places. Tnese men are as regular in their
habits as the seasons which they know so well.
Name: Wade Van Dore Assignment: New Marlboro
Title: Living Lore Topic: Johann Schiller -Artist
farmer
"And how are you today?" asked Mr. Schiller as I walked into
his garden where he was picking ripe pole beans from a long straight
row of poles. It was about three o'clock on a beautiful October after-
noon. The atmosphere was mellow as a ripe pumpkin. No breath of wind
stirred a ripe leaf or a blade of grass.
"I've got what might be called autumn -fever. Don't you think
that this is auout the finest October we've had for years? It's hard
to stay inside on days like this."
"Yes isn't it fine, but we deserve it after all the bad
weather we haa last summer. My garden wasn't half as good as usual.
There was much too much rain. Spoiled my cucumbers, squash, onions,
half my potatoes and look at those carrots over there: they seem
to have a new disease of some kind. See how rusty the leaves are?
I've never seen carrots behave like that before."
"They do look rather stricken, don't they?" I agreed. "But
it looks like you've had a much better garden that most folks. Being
up on this hill, at least your stuff wasn't covered by water the way
mine was. Many of my squash were floating like toy boats more than
once last summer, and only a few of them were fit to eat. I doubt
I picked a dozen good cucumbers during the season."
"That's the way it goes," returned Mr. Schiller. "If the
Devil doesn't get you, the weather does. But at least we can say
that the worse the weather is, the more entertaining it is. New
(2)
Name: Wade Van Dore
Title: Living Lore
Assignment: New Marlboro
Topic: Johann Schiller Artist
farmer
Englanders will have their hurricane to talk about for a long spell.
How was the wind down your way?"
"Not so bad. Just a few trees blown over no houses damaged
except by water. I suppose you've heard that our town lost nearly
all its bridges."
"No, I didn't hear but I suspected it. I've been so busy this
fall with farm work that I haven't got down to the village since
the storm. Of course you noticed that the road in front of our house
is still closed. Nobody has passed here for several weeks. Several
times I've walked down to a neighbor's and picked up my mail, otherwise
I guess I'd not even have known about the hurricane.
"You're really very much out of things, here, aren't you?"
"Yes, we are indeed! Not that it matters much, I suppose.
In the sunnier our nearest neighbors are two miles away, but they might
as well be fifty for all the communication we have with them, seeing
that they're new summer people and they have no time to bother with
the likes of us. Excuse my working like this picking these beans,
but I'll be through soon. I'd like to fill this bushel basket before
I go to the house."
"Just keep right on nothing's more important than beans.
What's the matter don't you like city people any more?"
"It isn't a case of liking or not liking them. You know that
I came from hew York city myself close to fifty years ago. I was only
(3)
Name: Wade Van Dore
Title: Living Lore
Assignment: New Marlboro
Topic: Johann Schiller Artist
farmer
about twenty-five when I left my office position in the phonograph
shop, where I became implicated in a big patent fight. The lies and
hate that I saw thrown around there made me rather ill, morally ill
at least. It was there that I realized a business life was not for
me, so I decided to leave big cities behind and spend my remaining
years where I'd have more of a chance to keep my self-respect. I came
up to this country to this very farm and haven't been away from it
for more than a few days at a time, since."
"Well," I replied, "you certainly have put in a spell here,
and I guess you've seen many farming and social changes come during
that period: Tell me, do you think people are happier today with all
their gadgets and leisure time?"
Mr. Schiller straightened up to his full six feet and three
inches or so of height, and gave me a long, searching look as if to
ask, "Do you really want to know what I think?" then volunteered a
forceful answer.
"Most people don't really know how to live these days, with
all their chances to get enlightenment! Why, even the country people
hardly know each other any more! They pass one another in cars as they
go back and forth to the movies, but that is about all there is to
their social relations, I can remember when a neighbor was really a
neighbor a friend indeed but those days are gone.
"Of course this section has suffered greatly from emigration.
Fifty years ago there were still many farms operating, but now there
(4)
Name: Wade Van Dore Assignment: New Marlboro
Title: Living Lore Topic: sTohann Schiller Artist
farmer
are not three real ones left in the township. Almost all the old
hayfields are grown up to woods or brush. Ours looks like a farm,
and we live almost exactly like old-time farmers, but we take little
to market except a few eggs, honey, and firewood. Now and then I sell
a picture, and occasionally Henry gets a little chair -bottoming to do
down in the village. We trade eggs and honey for the few odd supplies
we need, but depend almost entirely on our own farm for food. We use
all our own milk; every year we can hundreds of jars of vegetables,
fruits, and berries; we store cabbages, turnips, carrots and beans,
as you see."
Mr. Schiller paused for a moment to lean over and give, his
beans a vigorous shaking so that they would settle down in the basket,
then he continued.
"And that's how we manage to get along. We do all our own work.
We bother no one and we try to keep other people from bothering us,
but don't succeed very well during the blueberry and the hunting
seasons. We try to pay our taxes by selling wood, and it's a lucky
thing for us that the farm is big with plenty of wood on it.
"Of course very few people would care to live like this nowa-
days, without having any modern conveniences in the house (as they
call them), without a car and without neighbors. Times often get
pretty hard for us, but when we hear about wars in foreign countries,
and unemployment and labor troubles in our own, we feel content to hang
on as we are. Henry does most of the heavy outside work while I do all
the cooking and housework."
(s)
Name: Wade Van Dore
Title: Living Lore
Assignment: New Marlboro
Topic: Johann Schiller Artist
farmer
",Don't city people sometimes come and try to buy the farm?"
I inquired.
"A few stop every summer and fish a little for it, but finding
Henry cool to the idea of selling, they usually don't stay long.
City people seem to have the idea that all farmers are aching to sell
their farms, and I guess they're rather surprised at Henry's attitude.
But most of the people who have stopped recently do not want to buy
the whole farm. They want only to buy an acre or so with the privilege
of using the other 400 odd acres thrown in They don't say so, but
that's the way I figure it. But of course we will not consider any such
arrangement. Such people would pick our berries, trample our grass,
damage the woods, and scare the deer away. We'd finally be feeling
like trespassers on our own property, I expect.
"I'm not running down city folk, mind you. Once I was a city
man myself. I'm just pointing out that the average person, whether
of the city or the country, cannot get close to nature: Some sort
of a conversion is necessary before that is possible. Did you ever
know a farmer who would stop what he was doing to look at a sunset?"
"Yes, I've known one or two who would".
"Then you've traveled further than I haves My own observations
have convinced me that rural folk as a whole have no deep feelings for
nature. They might have, if they had some...what shall I say ...per-
spective of comparison. That is, I think that we can appreciate one
kind of living only after we've experienced a different kind of living.
(6)
Name: Wade Van Dore
Title: Living Lore
"In my own case
from nature when I left
peace and quiet, honest
Assignment: New Marlboro
Topic: Johann Schiller Artist
farmer
for example, I knew exactly what I wanted
New York city to live here. Mostly I wanted
neighbors, an opportunity to work with the
soil, and enough leisure time to paint pictures.
"All those conditions I have had off and on, for fifty years:
I'll not go so far as to say that all my dreams have come true, for
they have not. Perhaps the important thing is that I've largely
learned to hold my dreams, or my desires, in check. Perhaps my
gardening has been more successful than my art, yet I'm not unhappy
about it. I've made my gardening an art as I've tried to make my
living an art. And in my opinion, no one occupation should be held
above another. The best of anything is the thing to praise the
best statesman should be honored along with the best horticulturist,
musician, painter, author, or general scientist."
"I think I agree with you there," I said, "and these days it's
hard to excel in anything., competition being what it is. Have you
sold any pictures recently? I'd like to see some of your summer's
work, if I may."
"My basket's almost full and we'll go to the studio presently.
No, I haven't sold anything lately, and I didn't have time to do
much painting this summer the weather was so frightful. I could
hardly keep the weeds down, let me tell you But the heavy rains
were good for my young fruit trees and berry bushes. There that
will be enough bean -picking for today. Let me show you some of my
new plantings."
(7)
Name: Wade Van Dore
Title: Living Lore
Assignment: New Marlboro
Topic: Johann Schiller Artist
farmer
Mr. Schiller led me about, pointing out the new fruit trees,
berry bushes, and plants which he is experimenting with. It was such
a garden as the average native-born farmer would never dream f plant-
ing,() for here it was obvious that plain utility had to share the ground
with experimentation and the pure delight of gardening. We came to his
bee hives and noticed that the insects were still working, though nearly
all flowers had been killed by recent frosts.
"I got badly stung this summer. A loud -talking stranger came
in here and got the bees excited. One stung him and he started swinging
his arms and running. He created such a commotion that the bees turned
on me, too, and I must have got over twenty stings. That's the -trouble
with these Italian bees they're great workers but very temperamental.
My bees have put up a record amount of honey this year, but I almost
doubt it would be worth while trying to sell it, honey is so cheap.
Now come this way, and we'll go into the studio."
We walked through high, uncut grass which glowed like gold
in the mellow light of the falling sun. The whole landscape looked
like a great picture of ripeness and tranquillity. Only the sound
of our walking and the faint song of a cricket embroidered the quiet-
ness; and when we entered the darkening studio situated under great
maple trees, brilliant with autumn foliage, it seemed that we had came
to the very abode of silence.
This room is high and of good size, but it contains so many
accumulated treasures pictures, old magazines, and trophies picked
(8)
Name: Wade Van Dore
Title: Living Lore
Assignment: New Marlboro
Topic: Johann Schiller Artist
farmer
up in the field, such as hornets' nests, dried flowers, cat -tails and
so forth, that it seems small. Doubtless some of the high hung objects
have not been disturbed for many years, and everything breathes out
an atmosphere of an era long gone.
On Mr. Schiller's easel was an unfinished canvas of a deer
emerging from a deep wood. The animal had been painted with skill,
understanding, and beauty, but the very blending of colors somehow
suggested the fading lights of age. And as I looked about the room
it seemed to me that age, like a grey stain, had touched and tinted
everything, all the material objects, every thought and dream of the
lonely artist who worked within it. Obviously, bright, shining colors
were not for this man.
"It's a nice picture," I said at last, "and I can see that you
haven't been influenced by any of the new schools of art. Don't you
like the cubists, the impressionists or the new surrealists?"
The artist was standing slightly behind me, and there was such
a long silence after I asked my question that I turned around to
look into his face. His reply was written on his features, which
had taken on a cold expression of contempt. His lips were firmly
compressed together, and with a little embarrassment I realized that
I had touched upon a topic of discussion that was taboo 80 far as he
was concerned. o I hurried to change the subject.
"But don't you sometimes long for the companionship of other
artists and educated men? Really now, wouldn't you like to live in
(9)
Name: Wade Van Dore Assignment: New Maplboro
Title: Living Lore Topic: Johann Schiller Artist
farmer
New York once more and submerge yourself in human activities there?
Don't you sometimes think that you have milked this sort of existence
dry? Besides, most people have a hankering to return to the scenes
of their youth."
Perhaps it was a good thing that my acquaintance with Mr. Schiller
had extended over a period of seven or eight years, for no doubt it seemed
to him that my questions were rather personal. However, he took them
well, and after gazing for a long moment up through the studio window
into the colored leaves of the maple trees, he answered:
"This is my home, now. It's true that I am getting old and
that it is no longer easy to get along here. But at any rate I have
something to do at least I'm functioning like a normal creature
of nature. I see enough of people, and I'd rather continue cultivating
my garden than to cultivate new friends. Garden crops are more
dependable. No, most of my traveling will continue to be done on
410..
foot. I still take twenty1 mile walks when the farm work is slack, and
not only do I enjoy walking just for the sake of walking, but I find my
subjects for painting while wandering in abandoned places. See, here's
a painting of what is left of an old sawmill I found far back in a thick
woods on the banks of Black Brook. I like to remember what other folk
forget. People have the mistaken idea that the present is more im-
portant than the past, but it isn't, any more than a new gold coin is
more valuable than an old one. Values are cumulative. Years are
like bricks in the walls of a house that we must live in, and the old
(10)
Name: Wade Van Dore Assignment: New Marlboro
Title: Living Lore Topic: l'ohann Schiller Artist
farmer
bricks serve as well as the new. As much as I understand of it, I
like Einstein's theory of relativity; and if Mars is really inhabited
by people, I'd be very interested to know what year it is there.
Certainly it would not be nineteen hundred and thirty eights"
-Ir. Schiller paused, and I noticed that the room was rapidly
growing darker. It was time for me to leave. I knew that my companion
had his evening chores to do, and did not want to keep him from them.
The sun was just about to go down as I got outside, and I was looking
at it when I heard my host exclaim in a low voice: "There they are:"
For an instant I wondered what he meant, but on turning my
gaze to the direction in which he was looking, I saw two fine, sunlit
deer standing not more than a hundred yards away in the middle of the
hayfield in front of the house. For a moment they stood intently
looking at us, then they began again to eat the new autumn grass of
the field, as if they had as much right to it as the cows of the farm.