The prompt this week for the Finish the Sentence Friday blog hop is "My first job..."
We had moved to a valley in Northwest Oregon the summer before, but that summer my brother and I had helped herd the sheep our Dad bought, and it wasn't for pay and pay wasn't expected. Farm kids were expected to help their family with the chores.
I was now finishing out first year at the little two-room school, and I began hearing how kids earned their own money by picking strawberries in the summer. The father of one of the girls at the school had strawberry fields and needed pickers. Even though I was only eight years old and would be turning nine later in the year, I was allowed to pick. I was very excited about being able to earn some money.
Every morning about 6:00 a.m. I stood waiting alongside the road with my lunch pail waiting for the farmer or his wife to come by in their truck to get me. I just hopped in the back of the pickup bed, sat down next to other children and had a bumpy ride on the gravel roads leading to the strawberry farm. It was fun, because it was a new experience and I didn't quite know what to expect.
The wages were not very much, compared to now, but each day I would figure out how much money I would get paid at the end of the season. The wages then were 35 cents per carrier. A carrier contained six quart-size boxes.
The strawberry farm where I picked had two different kinds of strawberries, Marshalls and Hoods. I personally liked the taste of the Marshalls, because they were much sweeter. The Hoods ripened a little later than the Marshalls, so I had a longer picking season.
The row boss made sure that the pickers kept on task and picked a clean row. Picking a clean row meant to not miss any berries and to pick off any rotten berries and toss them on the ground behind you. I especially didn't care for this last part, because if we had a particularly rainy June, the berries would begin to rot and mold and become quite squishy! If these bad berries were left on the vines, they would touch good berries and cause them to get moldy too.
We picked until noon, ate our lunches and then about three in the afternoon were picked by our parents or a neighbor. We didn't pick every day, because sometimes it was too rainy to pick, and at other times we needed to wait for berries to ripen a few days.
Although picking strawberries was hard on my back, it was in the strawberry fields where I first started developing work ethics. I also came to appreciate the work ethics of the families of migrant workers, many of whom are extremely fast pickers!
I found a wonderful article titled Historic Marshall Strawberries at Green Gardening with Ann Lovejoy.
I agree with you about the squishy, moldy berries! Ewww!
ReplyDeleteAs this was also my first job (besides babysitting), I'm going to let your post count for mine, too. Not much changes over the years regarding berry picking, except the wages: I earned $2.00 a flat. I was a terribly slow picker, though.
Somehow I missed replying to a bunch of comments on this post. Squishy anything isn't my favorite. :-)
DeleteHow wonderful! What a great first job! I'm so glad that you linked up with Finish the Sentence. My first job was babysitting, and then I caddied, and then I worked in fast food. Picking strawberries sounds like more fun.
ReplyDeleteSomehow I missed replying to a bunch of comments on this post. Sorry. I guess how much fun any of these jobs were might depend on the day. I never really found picking strawberries to be fun. Usually it was just a lot of long hot days, back aches, and grimy jeans.
Deleteholy smoke, 'picking strawberries was hard on my back ayiiee!
ReplyDeleteAlthough I've done my share of repetitive physical labor… bending (that far) over…all day long!
but it all contributes to a life that is rich in experience
Somehow I missed replying to a bunch of comments on this post. I guess better late than never. Most of my strawberry picking was done from a crouched position. That seemed to be the preferred position of most of the young pickers in the field.
DeleteI came to berry picking later in life. Strawberry picking is indeed hard on the back! I am so impressed that you were doing this so young. Wow. And getting up at 6:00. My kids taught me the value of getting up early (for swim practice). I so get your comment re understanding the importance of a work ethic and think you were truly blessed to learn it so young.
ReplyDeleteIn my part of the world (Canada's west coast) you can't drive far without seeing dozens of folks picking blueberries at all times of the day. As my son would say "that's honest work." Off to read about the Marshalls.
Getting up that early was typical even when we were in school, because there were farm chores to do and we often walked a mile to school when it wasn't raining. When it was raining, a parent or neighbor took us.
DeleteThere are lots of farmers in the valley here who are growing blueberries now. There are very few strawberry fields now in this area---so very different than it was when I was a kid.
Your story takes me back to my one day experience as a cherry picker. I grew up near farm country, and had some school friends tell me about the great money they made in the fields. My dad drove me out to a farm in the morning, where they handed me a pail, and told me that I'd get paid a certain amount per quart. I started off, along with some (obviously) experienced migrant workers). By the end of the day I had filled two buckets, while the migrant workers (experts that they were) had filled 10-15 buckets. I made $20 for 8 hours of really hard work, and left with respect for my fellow workers and the burning desire not to do field work ever again. I definitely learned a lesson from that job! Thanks for bringing back that memory with your wonderful story!
ReplyDeleteSorry for the delay in replying to the comments on this post. Somehow I missed these. Anyway, thank you for sharing your experience of picking cherries. I never tried that. My parents were afraid I'd fall from the ladder, and considering my fear of heights, that probably would have been my experience had I tried it. From my experience the experienced migrant workers could out perform almost all the other pickers.
DeleteI'm sure you are feeling a bit nostalgic while writing this post, and reminiscing about your first job. Picking strawberries seems like really fun to do, and suits as first job for children your age back then. How I wish that all jobs in the real world could come as simple as picking strawberries. Haha! Thanks for sharing your wonderful story, Pat! :)
ReplyDeleteWaylon Grimm @ All Force Labour Solutions
As children picking the berries then, we were under the watchful eye of the field bosses who came along and spot checked our rows to make sure we were leaving berries and to give us instruction on where and how to look for the hidden berries. Any kids who goofed off by throwing berries, or being lazy pickers usually didn't have a lot chances to prove their worth as pickers. I liked the idea of having the money, so I kept my nose to the grindstone, or to the strawberry row. :-)
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