Earl Patterson had started farming in 1927 when he was 22 years old, right before the Great Depression. He’d watched his father lose 160 acres in 1932 because of debt incurred during the 1920s boom. He’d survived a depression by farming small, spending nothing he didn’t have and treating debt like poison. He’d built the Patterson farm from 160 acres in 1935 to 640 acres by 1960.
And he’d done it without ever taking a loan for equipment. Not once, not ever. He bought used tractors, fix them himself, and ran them until they literally couldn’t be repaired anymore. His current equipment roster in 1978 included a 1960 John Deere 4010, a 1965 John Deere 4020, and a 1953 John Deere 70, plus implements that range from serviceable to barely functional.
Nothing was new, nothing was financed, and the farm was completely paid off. 640 acres, free and clear, worth over a million dollars with zero debt. His son, James Patterson, was 34 years old in 1978. He’d grown up on the farm, worked alongside his father since he was old enough to drive a tractor, and had every intention of taking over the operation when Earl retired.
But James represented a different generation. One that had come of age during the boom years of the early 70s. One that had been taught by agricultural colleges and extensionagents that modern farming required modern equipment, modern techniques, modern thinking. James had attended Iowa State, majored in agricultural business, and come home with ideas that made Earl deeply uncomfortable.
James talked about economies of scale and capital efficiency and leveraging appreciating assets. Earl talked about not owing anyone a damn thing. The tension had been building for years, but came to a head in March of 1978 when Earl announced he was stepping back. He was 73. His knees were shot, his hands had arthritis, and he wanted to slow down.
