As farmers age, matchmakers join aspirants with pros
Published 5:00 am Sunday, August 16, 2009
- Ten years later, The Old Mill District is one of the premier shopping and commercial centers in Central Oregon. To the upper left, the Les Schwab Amphitheater occupies what was an empty lot. The large vacant lot in the upper center of the photo is where the crane shed was located. The iconic powerhouse building is now home to REI, and the image of the smokestacks is used in almost all promotion for The Old Mill District.
RICHLAND, Iowa He quit his job, and drove his wife and their four young daughters across country, a 21st-century pioneer lured to these faraway farm fields by the promise of a life-changing deal with an older stranger.
Isaac Phillips always wanted to be a farmer. But some friends as well as colleagues at the Utah jail where he supervised inmate work crews were leery, telling him: a) dont give up a steady job, b) youre making a big mistake and c) its a crazy idea.
Phillips knew the business he was plunging into was risky, that there were no guarantees for him in these Iowa hills. And yet, the family moved more than 1,000 miles. How did this 30-something Garth Brooks look-alike, who had the drive but not the dollars, start farming in Iowa? He had an instant mentor.
His name is John Adam, who planted his boots on this swath of black earth as a 19-year-old newlywed and over five decades helped raise four children, harvested corn and beans, bred sows and collected a wall of plaques and honors.
Now, the two men the rosy-cheeked apprentice and the silver-haired teacher are working together on Adams farm. One day, if all goes well, Phillips hopes to call part of this land his own.
I thought I may never get a chance like this in my life, Phillips says, two years into his new rise-with-the-rooster career. I knew there was no way I could do this on my own.
The future of farming?
This is farm matchmaking, a down payment on the future of rural America.
The idea is being tried in a growing number of states as farmers are getting older and working longer: The average age rose to 57 (from 55), and the ranks of the 75-and-up set increased by 20 percent from 2002 to 2007, according to a recent survey. Meanwhile, the number of those younger than 25 has dropped by nearly a third.
The high cost of getting started is intimidating, even for enthusiasts like Phillips. So what to do?
Pair the two generations in special programs. Aspiring farmers then dont have to go into deep debt to launch their careers and can hook up with a farmer in his 50s, 60s or 70s ideally one who doesnt have heirs who want to follow in his footsteps.
If their personalities mesh, the two can become partners. Later, the hope is the established farmer will sell, rent or make some other arrangement that keeps the younger one on the land.
Theres a broader goal, too: Save the family farm. And a bonus: Put more kids in rural schools, pour more money into Main Street, preserve small towns.
No one sees this as the solution for stemming the exodus in rural America. And no one denies there are financial and emotional minefields. But Dave Baker, the matchmaker who united Phillips and Adam, is a true believer. Its his job to connect fresh-faced wannabes from across the country with Iowa farmers preparing for retirement or merely pondering it.
Youre not going to take it with you, he tells the established farmers. You cant place the dirt in the coffin. … Who else is going to have it? The highest bidder? How does that affect your community? How does it affect your family name? What do you want your legacy to be?
With Iowa having lost about a quarter of its farms in the last three decades, its no surprise this idea has taken root here though several other states are doing something similar.
In Oregon, a new program reaches out to aspiring farmers and those leaving agriculture, looking for possible partners. In Virginia, an online database tries to hook up the two generations. In Nebraska, there are tax breaks for farmers who rent to beginners. And in Washington state, a nonprofit group has 300 people eager to start (mostly organic) farming, and 65 landowners looking to give someone a try.
Saving the family farm
Turning over a farm isnt easy.
There are folks whose nest egg is their land and heirs who wont farm but wont sell, either. And there are old-timers, in their 70s and 80s, who see farming as their identity and their family tradition.
Its your mooring in life, says Paul Lasley, an Iowa State sociologist. The land represents more than a business. Its your home. … For some people, its very difficult to sell. Its almost like selling part of themselves.
Adams original plan was to build a big family farm.
His four children would be there, then the grandkids, working together.
He started small with his wife, Colleen 10 cows, 20 sows and grew big (1,800 hogs). One day, he expected hed pass the torch.
Thats kind of the hope and dream of every farmer, he says.
Then the farm crisis of the 1980s hit. Interest rates soared, land values plummeted. The 80s took the fun out of farming for everyone, Adam says. It ruined an awful lot of families.
He survived, but when his two daughters and two sons saw their mother and I struggling to pay the bills, he says, they attended college and found good jobs. He wasnt one to argue with their success.
But decades of heavy labor have taken their toll. Adam, who had a hip replaced twice, says he isnt as agile as he once was something that makes a difference when handling 500-pound sows.
Im 64, he says. Im not capable of doing what I did when I was 34. It was time to get young blood in, not just for the physical side, but for the business side of it.
His son-in-law works on the farm, but didnt want to be the in-charge guy, Adam says, so he applied to Bakers program. He was immediately sold on Isaac and Katie Phillips.
In a way, the Phillipses won a lottery. Only a few dozen Iowa farmers are looking for partners. Nearly 350 suitors are itching for a shot. Most are from Iowa, ranging from 18 to their 30s; others come from states like Texas, Oklahoma, New York and California.
Isaac Phillips had farmed in Utah, raised horses and bred hogs on the side. But it wasnt enough to support a growing family.
As a sheriffs deputy, Phillips had security, but not job satisfaction. He and Katie had long talks about trying to farm, but figured they probably wouldnt get a response to their application.
So when Adam phoned two years ago, Phillips was thrilled.
But there were beginners jitters. I thought, Am I smart enough? There are so many people who dont make it, Phillips says. How can I guarantee Ill have something for my family?
But he adds: John really took me under his wing. If I tried to buy a farm out there and work it by myself, I would have been a nervous wreck. … Hes not looking over my shoulder all the time. He gives me a little bit of freedom.
Adam, in turn, is impressed with Phillips. I dont think Ive ever heard him say he couldnt do something, he says. Hes always willing to try.