Kjellin barn holds memories of years past
By ROWENA PLETT
Staff writer
About a month ago, the big, old barn on the original 1863 Thomas Wise Jr. homestead two and one-half miles south of Lincolnville collapsed in a heap. It suffered the fate of many other similar barns. After it no longer served a practical purpose, it was allowed to deteriorate in the wind and weather until it could no longer remain standing.
It's a different story with the Charles Kjellin barn at 2323 U.S.-56/77, five miles northeast of Marion. Built in 1926, it stands tall and true on its foundation. According to history buffs, the original barn set on the same foundation burned, and arson was suspected.
About 20 years ago, Kjellin decided the 100x45-ft. barn needed a new roof and a paint job. He wanted to save the big barn, although it no longer served a practical purpose except for storage.
He discovered preparing the wood for painting was cost prohibitive and had attractive steel siding installed instead.
Some people may wonder why many old barns were so large. Years ago, when baling equipment had not yet been invented, every farmer had milk cows and work horses. He needed a place to milk the cows, keep the horses, and store loose hay and grain for feed.
The Kjellin barn had a means of using ropes and pulleys to hoist hay in a large net to the barn loft, then pulled it into the barn along a track. When winter came, the loft was full of fresh-smelling hay.
The loft also has a wooden bin in which oats were stored. The grain was sent down a chute to the main floor for feeding the livestock.
The main floor contains a milk parlor with stanchions still intact. Stanchions were used to hold the cows' heads and keep the animals in place for milking.
The barn also has two sturdy horse stalls and a drive-through area, along with storage bins and rooms. A stairway leads to the loft.
Still hanging in the barn is a set of horse harness that Kjellin bought new as a young man.
The Kjellins purchased the farm in 1959, when they were forced off a farm in the area which became Tuttle Creek Reservoir at Manhattan.
Kjellin had been looking for a farm for about a year, when he stopped at the corner grocery store in Marion (now the SRS office). He met Herb Bredemeier who told him the Milton Stenzel farm was for sale.
Charles said the minute he drove onto the yard, he was sold on it.
"I'm through looking," he told himself. "I've found a place."
The family milked cows until 1985. Cream and eggs were delivered to a creamery in Marion (now the Jerry Cady Agency).
Daughter Mary Beth Bowers, who lives with husband Greg just across the road from the home place, recalls having special moments with her father while he was sitting on his stool and milking a cow.
"I would pull up a stool and sit and talk with him," she said, an experience which still evokes warm memories.
One time, the family saw a picture of their barn in an insurance advertisement in a magazine. Flames and smoke had been added, and it frightened her and her siblings.
The barn sits not far from a railroad track, and occasionally Kjellin found evidence that people had slept in the hay in the barn.
After square bales became common, Charles stored bales in the loft using a bale elevator. He discovered that square bales carry a lot more weight than loose hay.
"Eight layers was too much," he said. "They sagged the floor."
He learned to stack them not more than four or five layers high.
After balers were designed to make big round bales, inside storage no longer was needed.
Although the horses, cows, and people are gone, birds still make their nests there and a few straw bales remain. Mary Beth uses the barn for storage of material for her Prairie Weeds business. She once used the barn to create pictures of authentic-looking Christmas story scenes for a slide show.
Pat Enos of Marion also is Kjellin's daughter. Her son, Mitchell Enos, a college student, helps his grandfather with summertime farm work. The farm produces corn, soybeans, and alfalfa.
The 82-year-old man still has a small herd of Hereford cattle. He is recovering from a broken hip received while working with cattle in a pen.
"I decided I'm through working with cattle," he said.
At the present time, Mary Beth is taking care of the herd. She is grateful to her father for taking steps to preserve the barn.
"The old building creaks and groans in a strong wind, but I love it," Mary Beth said. "It is a pleasant reminder of days gone by."
