50 Years Ago
Late Autumn/Early Winter 1953
by Maurice Telleen
published in The Draft Horse Journal, Winter 2002 - 2003

(From the Belgian Review and Percheron Review of that period, as well as general news sources.)

In retrospect, that time frame from 50 years ago is very interesting. There was a bumper crop of straws in the wind and coming events casting their shadows before them. Of course, they always cast their shadows before them but it is a whole lot easier to figure out what they are saying after the fact.

The presidential campaign took a decisive turn on October 24 when the Republican candidate told a cheering crowd that if elected he would “go to Korea.” He stated that the American people would not settle for a policy of “wait–and wait–and wait” for peace to be restored on that unhappy peninsula. He felt that only by going there could he best assess how to bring an honorable end to that war. It was a great political move and some folks think that pledge to “go to Korea” insured his election.

One famous news picture of that time showed the candidate, General Eisenhower, standing in front of a microphone, shoulder to shoulder with General Douglas MacArthur, who President Truman had fired as our commander in the Far East.

Eisenhower had suggested that the Korean War had been neither inevitable nor inescapable. The public was sick of the police action that had turned into a war and then into a stalemate.

I’m sure that particular pledge made a big difference but my guess is that he would have been elected with or without it. For one thing there had been a Democrat in the White House for twenty consecutive years. That is a lot of baggage. He and Truman, by that time, had come to dislike each other and Truman’s protege, Governor Adlai Stevenson of Illinois, was no pit bull as a campaigner. Certainly not as aggressive as Truman or FDR. As for Truman and MacArthur, dislike is much too mild a word. They simply hated each other’s guts.

So I suppose you could say that the campaign of 1952 ended, not with the balloting in November, but with the “I will go to Korea” speech. On the other hand, the tide was moving in Ike’s direction and I doubt there was a Democrat alive who could have beaten him in 1952. The country wanted a change.

As for straws in the wind–here is a sample of late autumn/early winter 1952.

The British held their first atomic bomb tests off the coast of Australia (rather than off the White Cliffs of Dover). The nuclear club was growing. Science does not generally recognize political borders.

Iran broke off relations with Great Britain over an oil dispute. If that doesn’t sound familiar you simply haven’t been paying any attention to the fifty years since then.

The French, clinging to the last vestiges of empire, launched another big drive against the communists in what was then called French Indo-China, I believe. We know it by Vietnam. It was, at the time, said to be “succeeding.”

The U.S.S.R. kicked out our ambassador, George Kennen. We had no choice but to recall him.

And the British sent some elite troops to their East African colony of Kenya to put down “terrorism”–that is what it was called, and no doubt what it was. We have to stop this nonsense in its tracks. Those people down there actually want us to leave.

And Trygvie Lie (I think he was a Norwegian) who had been elected as the first Secretary General of the United Nations in 1946 decided to call it quits and resigned. He had been instrumental in getting the resolution through sharply condemning the North Korean invasion of the South and calling for their withdrawal. He was accused of being too willing to do America’s bidding. Trouble, trouble everywhere–maybe Trygvie was just sick of it.

The U.N. General Assembly had also turned down the application of Communist China as a member. Third time in three years. But this wasn’t baseball–they would keep applying and we would keep on insisting that Formosa was the legitimate government of China.

Speaking of baseball, the Yankees took their third World Series in a row beating one of their next door neighbors, the Brooklyn Dodgers, in 4-2 games.

Getting back to the election on November 5, it was a landslide victory for Eisenhower and the Republican party with a big voter turnout. I find one word in Stevenson’s concession speech very interesting–”My fellow citizens have made their choice and I gladly accept it.” Gladly is a strange choice of word to insert in that sentence. Of course you have to accept it–but graciously will do, you don’t have to be glad about it. In Stevenson’s case, I believe it meant exactly that–gladly. I don’t think he even wanted the office but, like any draftee, was willing to serve. And that ain’t all bad. Truman hadn’t wanted the office either–it was thrust on him.

One of the surprising counter-currents in that 1952 sweep was the amazing upset of that old Republican war horse, Henry Cabot Lodge. He had been considered a shoe-in–sort of an institution in the senate. But he was beaten by a young congressman named John F. Kennedy. It was probably the major upset of that election.

With all the saber rattling of 1952 it was kind of nice to note that Albert Schweitzer was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. A very promising musician, he had opted for medicine–and not in some great metropolitan hospital. In 1913 he had gone to Africa and established a hospital where he served those inhabitants throughout a long life. He was honored for setting a living example of “reverence for life.” Good choice. There wasn’t a lot of that going around in 1952–or any other year, come to think of it.

We covered the 1952 fall shows in the Belgian and Percheron breeds in the last issue. In years past that left only the two big early winter shows as gathering places for the clans. They were the International in Chicago and the Royal Winter Fair in Toronto.

By 1952 you could pretty well write the International off. At Chicago there was a total of seventeen Belgians led out for Byron Good, the judge from Michigan State, to evaluate. The seventeen that were there were led out by C. O. House, Arcadia, Indiana; Meadow Brook Farms, Rochester, Michigan; Dr. Reed Shank, Cincinnati, Ohio, and Warren Brothers, Bancroft, Michigan. With exhibitors of that calibre you can be sure the horses were great. But just seventeen head–at the great International? That isn’t merely pathetic–that is miserable.

The Percherons had maybe twice that many. But Dave Haxton, their judge, wasn’t exactly overworked either, and like the Belgians they were magnificent animals. When your exhibitors are Penn State College; Lynnwood Farms, Carmel, Indiana; Bob Jones, Farmer City, Illinois; Sherm Read & Daughter, Richland, Michigan; and George Dix, Delaware, Ohio, you can be reasonably sure they include some of the best of the breed. But it scarcely deserves the title of International.

I have no record of the Clyde show at Chicago but I’m sure that would fall safely into the pathetic category, too.

The Percherons held their annual meeting in Chicago. It was probably held in a fairly small room. There is no mention made of registration and transfer numbers in the Percheron Notes. Registration fees were hiked up a bit. I’m sure their income was suffering. George Dix was elected president, Sherm Read, vice president, and Mrs. Anne Brown was re-elected secretary-treasurer.

But hope springs eternal in the heart of a draft horseman. So the Belgian and Percheron associations jointly put on a dinner during the show welcoming draft horse folks of any persuasion. And by golly, eighty people showed up at the fabled old Stock Yard Inn to break bread together. But the founding father of this all breed gathering was really Billy Lynch, former Shire breeder and secretary of that association for many years. He was an Illinois farmer.

Charley House was the toastmaster and I’m sure did a bang up job. Where drafters were concerned, he was the eternal optimist. Kind of like the kid who found a couple smallish horse turds on the porch on Christmas morning and kept searching all day for that pony who “just had to be around here somewhere.” It sounds like they had a right good time.

The speaker for the evening was the director of publicity for the Indiana Farm Bureau. He suggested that more emphasis be placed on determining methods and avenues for the profitable sale of draft horses. Really. I’ll bet if he saw someone drowning on the beach he would have shouted, “You really should have worn a life jacket or learned how to swim.” But Charley House, and some others, already had that great sale in Indianapolis in mind. That became the rallying point and, ultimately, it worked.

You really have to admire the grit and determination of that sturdy band of breeders who, in the face of massive indifference, ridicule, and occasional outright contempt, just refused to abandon their faith in the draft horse. They simply said, “No!” to quietly become footnotes in the book of American agriculture.

It is not surprising that at the end of the evening they voted to do this again next year in Chicago.

As for the Belgians, they also had their meeting in Chicago and elected Mr. Cliff Eller, Arcadia, Indiana, to the board. He was a good choice. He and his neighbor, Charley House, would work miracles with that Indiana Sale. And like the Percherons, they had a wonderful woman as their secretary–Blanche Schmalzried.

The Belgian publication was more forthcoming with their numbers. They reported 171 registrations, 340 transfers and 18 memberships during the year ending October 31, 1952. That compares with 239 registrations, 361 transfers and 25 memberships in fiscal 1952. That 171 registrations would prove to be the absolute low point in the fortunes of the Belgian breed in this country. Transfers would continue to fall for one more year reaching their all time low with 317 in fiscal 1953. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that this toboggan ride to oblivion was anything but that.

But just ten years later in fiscal 1962, registrations had clawed back to 446 animals, transfers to 569 and new memberships to 55. By 1974, registrations had made it to the four figures with 1,210 registrations, with 1,640 transfers and 156 new members. It took only three more years for Belgian registrations to top 2,000. And I think most of you know the “rest of the story”– to date anyhow.

It turns out that the little boy looking frantically for the pony in his life wasn’t a nut case after all. Or maybe it was that speech by a director of publicity. But mostly–it was people like those mentioned in this column. If Tom Brokaw knew anything about draft horses (I doubt that he does) he would probably write a book about that sturdy band that stuck with their horses through that post World War II period from the ‘40s and clear through the ‘50s. He would likely call it “The Greatest Generation.” May God bless all of them–and Tiny Tim, too. And the pony.