The laughter started the moment Raymond Cooper walked into Anderson’s John Deere dealership in April 1979.
Raymond was 31 years old, tall and lean from 8 years of construction work. He wore jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt that had seen better days. He had just inherited 190 acres from his uncle Theodore, who had died 3 weeks earlier without children. The land was his, free and clear. No mortgage, no liens, just 190 acres of decent ground in central Illinois that had been in the family since 1923.
But there was no equipment.
Uncle Theodore had been leasing out the ground for the last decade after a stroke made farming impossible. Everything, tractors, implements, everything, had been sold off years earlier to pay medical bills. So Raymond needed tractors. He needed implements. He needed everything to start farming from scratch.
He walked into Anderson’s with a clear plan and $12,000 he had saved working construction for 8 years. Every overtime hour, every weekend shift, saved and invested carefully. $12,000 felt like a fortune.
Jim Anderson, the owner, greeted him at the door. He was in his mid-50s, thick around the middle, with a confident smile and an expensive watch. He had been selling John Deere equipment in that county for 23 years and knew every farmer within 50 mi.
“Raymond, heard about your uncle. Sorry for your loss. Theodore was a good man.”
“Thanks, Jim. Appreciate it.”
“But congratulations on the land. That’s a hell of an inheritance. 190 acres of primo ground. You’re a lucky man.”
“I know it.”
Jim put his arm around Raymond’s shoulders and led him deeper into the showroom.
“So, you’re here to get set up for farming. Good. Let me show you what we’ve got.”
The dealership was impressive. Bright lights, polished concrete floors, the smell of new rubber and fresh paint and hydraulic fluid. 6 brand-new tractors on display, John Deere green and yellow, gleaming like jewels.
“Now, for your operation, I’m thinking a 4440 would be perfect. Maybe a 4240 if you want to save a little money. Both great machines, modern, reliable, efficient, got the power you need for 190 acres.”
Raymond looked at the price tags. The 4240 was listed at $38,000. The 4440 at $46,000.
His entire savings was $12,000.
“Jim, those are really nice tractors, but I can’t afford them.”
“Well, that’s what financing is for. Nobody pays cash for equipment anymore. Here’s what we do. 10% down, that’s $3,800 on the 4240. We finance the rest over 7 years at 12%. Your monthly payment would be about $620.”
Raymond did the math in his head. $620 a month, 12 months, 7 years. That was over $52,000 total for a $38,000 tractor. $14,000 in interest alone, more than his entire savings.
“That seems like a lot.”
“It’s an investment, Raymond. You’ve got to think of it that way. This tractor is going to last you 20, 30 years. It’ll pay for itself in efficiency and productivity. You can’t farm competitively with old equipment.”
“What about used tractors? Do you have any of those?”
Jim’s smile tightened just slightly. “We don’t carry much used inventory. The market’s hot right now. Used equipment sells quick. We get something in, it’s gone in a week. But honestly, Raymond, you don’t want to start your operation with used equipment. You need reliability. You need warranty coverage. You need parts support. You need modern efficiency.”
“I need something I can afford without taking on debt I’m not sure I can service.”
“That’s what everyone says when they first look at the numbers. But Raymond, think about it this way. You’ve got to invest to succeed. Farming isn’t cheap. You’ve got to spend money to make money. You can’t compete with neighbors who have modern equipment if you’re running old junk.”
“Let me think about it.”
“Sure. Sure. Take your time. But don’t wait too long. These 4240s are moving fast. I’ve sold 3 this month already. Spring planting’s coming up. You need to get set up.”
Raymond thanked him and left the dealership. He sat in his truck in the parking lot for 15 minutes, just thinking.
$52,000 for a $38,000 tractor. $620 a month for 7 years. What if grain prices dropped? What if he had a bad crop year? What if something else went wrong? He would lose the tractor, probably lose the land trying to keep up with payments.
There had to be another way.
Raymond drove straight to the local auction yard. There was an estate sale scheduled for that Saturday. He had seen the equipment list in the newspaper. 2 International Harvester Farmalls were listed among the items.
Saturday morning came cold and overcast. Raymond arrived at the auction yard at 7:00 a.m., 2 hours before the sale started. He wanted to inspect the equipment before bidding.
The yard was muddy from recent rain. About 40 pieces of equipment were scattered across 2 acres. Tractors, planters, plows, discs, combines, all of it from the Hrix estate. Old man Hrix had died at 86, had been farming until the day before his stroke. His children lived in the city and wanted nothing to do with farming. They were selling it all.
Raymond found the 2 Farmalls parked next to each other near the back of the lot.
The 1st was a 1954 International Harvester Farmall Super MTA, diesel engine. The paint was faded to almost pink in places, rust spots on the fenders, dents in the hood. But Raymond had worked on equipment long enough to see past the cosmetics. He climbed up, sat in the seat, checked the oil, dirty but full. Tried to turn the engine over by hand. It moved. Not seized. He checked the tires, old but holding air. Examined the hydraulic lines, some cracking but not leaking. This tractor had been maintained, not lovingly, but adequately.
The 2nd was a 1960 Farmall 560, gas engine, also showing its age. Paint faded, rust, dents. But again, Raymond could tell someone had taken care of it. The engine was not seized. The sheet metal was intact. The clutch pedal felt wrong, though. Too soft. Probably needed a clutch. That would cost money. But both tractors were fundamentally sound. They would run. They would work. They just needed some maintenance and TLC.
An older farmer walked over. Raymond recognized him. Earl Thompson farmed about 8 mi away.
“You thinking about bidding on these?”
“Maybe. You know anything about them?”
“I do. Hrix bought the Super MTA new in 1954. That’s been his main tractor for 25 years. The 560 he picked up used in 1967 or 1968. Both good tractors. Reliable. He took care of his equipment. Not perfect, but good enough.”
“Think they’re worth buying?”
Earl shrugged. “Depends what you want them for. If you’re trying to impress neighbors or compete with folks running new equipment, no. But if you want tractors that’ll work and won’t bankrupt you, yes. Old Hrix farmed 240 acres his whole life with those 2 tractors and not much else. Made a living, raised 4 kids, retired with money in the bank.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Then you’re looking at the right equipment. Just don’t expect anyone to be impressed.”
At 9:00 a.m., the auction started.
The auctioneer, a fast-talking man named Dutch Williams who had been running auctions in the county for 30 years, worked through the household items first. Furniture, dishes, tools. Then he moved to farm implements. A grain drill sold for $800, a plow for $650, a disc for $400. Then he got to the tractors.
“All right, folks. Next up, we got a 1954 International Harvester Farmall Super MTA diesel. You all see it sitting over there. It runs, starts, needs some cosmetic work, but it’s a good working tractor. Been on this farm for 25 years. Who’ll start me at $3,000?”
Silence.
People looked at the tractor. Several shook their heads.
“All right. $2,500? $2,000? Still nothing. $1,500 to get us started.”
Raymond raised his hand. “$1,200.”
Someone in the crowd snickered. Raymond felt his face get hot but kept his hand up.
Dutch looked around. “I got $1,200. Anyone give me $1,300?”
Silence.
“$1,200 going once. Twice. Sold to the young man in the flannel shirt for $1,200.”
A smattering of applause. Raymond was not sure if it was congratulatory or mocking.
The 560 came up next.
“1960 Farmall 560 gas engine. Same deal, folks. It runs. Needs some work. Who’ll start me at $2,000?”
Nothing.
“$1,500? $1,000?”
Raymond raised his hand again. “$900.”
This time the snicker was louder. Someone said, “What’s he going to do with that junk?”
Dutch ignored it. “$900. Anyone else?”
Nothing.
“Sold for $900 to the same young man.”
Raymond paid the total, $2,100, with a check he had written that morning. Add a $100 buyer’s premium. $2,200 total. He had $9,800 left of his $12,000.
As he was finishing the paperwork, a voice behind him said, “That’s a hell of a gamble you just made.”
Raymond turned.
Jim Anderson stood there, arms crossed, expensive leather jacket, smirking.
“Jim. Didn’t know you came to auctions.”
“Sometimes I check them out. See what the competition’s selling. See what desperate farmers are buying.”
He looked at the 2 Farmalls. Raymond could see the judgment in his eyes.
“Those are junk, Raymond. They’re 25 and 19 years old. You just wasted $2,200.”
“They run. They work. That’s all I need.”
“No, that’s not all you need. You need reliability. You need efficiency. You need parts availability. Those old Farmall parts are going to be expensive, if you can even find them. Downtime is going to kill you. You’ll spend more time fixing them than farming with them.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, Raymond. We won’t see. We know. I’ve been in this business for 23 years. I’ve seen hundreds of young farmers try to start out cheap with old equipment trying to save money. You know how many of them actually succeeded? Maybe 1 in 10. Maybe 1. The rest either upgraded to proper equipment within 3 years or quit farming altogether.”
“Then I guess I’ll be that 1 in 10.”
Jim laughed. Actually laughed out loud. Several people turned to look.
“Raymond, I like your optimism. I really do. It’s cute. But optimism doesn’t harvest crops. Modern equipment does. When those old Farmalls break down, and they will, trust me, they will, you come see me. I’ll still make you a deal on a proper tractor. Might even give you a little trade-in credit for the scrap metal.”
He walked away, still chuckling, shaking his head.
Raymond stood there in the muddy auction yard, looking at his 2 old Farmalls, wondering if everyone was right, wondering if he had just made a terrible mistake.
Then he borrowed a trailer from Earl Thompson and hauled both tractors home to find out.
What Raymond Cooper was attempting in April 1979 was not just farming with old equipment. He was trying to prove an entire philosophy that went against everything the agricultural industry was telling farmers to do.
He was trying to prove that you could build a farming operation without debt. That you could succeed with paid-for equipment instead of financed equipment. That you could farm 190 acres without an $8,000 a year payment hanging over your head.
He spent April and the 1st half of May working on both tractors. His uncle’s old barn became his shop. It was not much, dirt floor, leaky roof, no heat, but it had space and tools, and that was enough.
The 1954 Super MTA needed work, but it was not major. Hydraulic seals were leaking. Raymond ordered new ones from a salvage yard for $60 and spent 2 evenings replacing them. Changed the oil and all filters, another $40. Found a crack in the fuel tank that was seeping. Welded it himself after draining the tank. The air filter was so clogged it was a miracle the engine ran at all. New filter was $35.
Total cost for the Super MTA: about $280 in parts.
Time invested: about 40 hours spread over 2 weeks.
The 1960 560 needed more. The clutch was definitely bad, slipping under load. Raymond found a used clutch assembly at a tractor salvage yard 2 counties over for $90. Drove out there on a Saturday, brought it home, and spent an entire weekend installing it. He had to split the tractor, separate the engine from the transmission, which meant pulling it apart in the middle. It was the hardest mechanical job Raymond had ever done, but he got it done. While he had the tractor apart, he fixed an oil leak from the rear main seal, replaced some worn steering components, and fixed a hydraulic line that was cracked.
Total cost for the 560: about $230 in parts.
Time: about 50 hours over 2 weekends.
By early June, both tractors were running strong.
Raymond’s total equipment investment: $2,100 for the tractors, $510 in repairs, plus the $100 buyer’s premium, $2,710 total.
Compare that to the $38,000 4240 Jim Anderson had tried to sell him, or the $424 monthly payment, $5,000 a year, that would have come with it.
Raymond took stock of his situation. He had $9,700 left. He needed seed. That would cost about $1,800. Needed fertilizer, another $1,000. Needed fuel, maybe $500 for the season. That left about $6,400 for living expenses and emergencies. It would be tight, but possible.
He planted 80 acres of corn and 80 acres of soybeans. Borrowed a 4-row planter from a neighbor, Earl Thompson, who had been kind to him at the auction. Paid Earl back by helping him with his wheat harvest in July, 3 days of hard work running a grain cart.
The Super MTA became Raymond’s primary field tractor. It had more power and could pull bigger implements. The 560 handled lighter work, running the cultivator, hauling wagons, doing odd jobs around the farm.
They were slow, no question about that. Modern tractors had twice the horsepower and could cover ground twice as fast. Raymond’s neighbors with 4440s could plant their fields in 3 days. It took Raymond almost 2 weeks.
But speed did not matter if you could not make the payment.
All summer, people would see Raymond out in the fields on those old red tractors and shake their heads. At the co-op, he would hear the comments.
“That Cooper kid’s going to learn the hard way.”
“Those old Farmalls are going to break down midseason and leave him stranded.”
“He’ll be shopping for real equipment by fall. Just watch.”
Even his own parents worried.
His father had been a carpenter, never farmed, but he knew enough about business to be concerned.
“Son, are you sure about this? Maybe you should have financed 1 good tractor instead of buying 2 old ones.”
“Dad, I can’t risk it. If I take on a payment and something goes wrong, bad weather, bad prices, equipment breakdown, I lose everything. This way, worst case, I have a bad year, but I keep the farm.”
His mother just hugged him and told him to be careful.
Raymond kept working, up before dawn, out in the fields until dark. The Super MTA ran hot in the summer sun. No cab, no air conditioning, just an umbrella Raymond rigged up for shade. The 560 had a habit of vapor locking on really hot days. Raymond learned to pour cool water on the fuel pump to get it going again. But they worked. Every day through June, July, August, planting, cultivating, maintaining the routine of farming.
Harvest came in early October.
Raymond hired a custom harvester to combine his corn and beans. He could not afford his own combine yet, and Earl Thompson’s was tied up with his own harvest.
The corn made 85 bushels per acre. Not spectacular, but decent for 1st-year ground that had not been farmed in a decade. Soybeans made 32 bushels per acre. Again, decent.
Grain prices were okay in 1979. Not great, but okay. Corn was around $2.40 a bushel. Soybeans around $6.50.
Raymond did the math.
80 acres of corn times 85 bushels times $2.40, $16,320.
80 acres of beans times 32 bushels times $6.50, $16,640.
Total gross: $32,960.
Expenses: seed, $1,800. Fertilizer, $1,000. Fuel, $600, less than estimated. Custom harvesting, $2,200. Miscellaneous, $400.
Total expenses: $6,000.
Net income from farming: $26,960.
Raymond also had living expenses. He had kept those minimal. He lived in Uncle Theodore’s old farmhouse, cooked his own meals, did not go out much. Figured he spent about $12,000 for the year. That left about $15,000. He put $10,000 into savings, kept $5,000 as operating cash for the next year.
He had made it through year 1.
The farm had not made him rich, but he had survived.
More importantly, he had proven the tractors could do the work.
When Jim Anderson heard about Raymond’s harvest numbers at the co-op, small towns, everyone knows everyone’s business, he was genuinely surprised.
“Huh,” he said to another dealer. “Maybe those old Farmalls had more life in them than I thought.”
But then he added, “Let’s see if they make it through year 2. First year’s the easy 1.”
Part 2
Year 2 was 1980.
It was the year that would define the next decade and a half of American agriculture. The year when everything looked perfect, when grain prices were high, land values were skyrocketing, and every farmer in the country was being encouraged to expand, leverage up, and grow.
The agricultural boom was in full swing.
Corn was pushing $3.50 a bushel. Soybeans were at $7.60. Export markets to the Soviet Union and China were wide open. Inflation was running hot, which made farmland a great investment. Values were going up 15% to 20% a year in some areas.
The message from everyone, dealers, bankers, agricultural economists, the USDA, was the same. This is the time to grow. Expand your operation. Buy more land. Upgrade your equipment. Finance it all. Because land values are rising so fast, you will build equity even with debt.
Raymond’s neighbors were following that advice, trading up to bigger tractors, buying additional ground, building new grain bins. Everyone was confident. Everyone was optimistic. Everyone was taking on debt.
Jim Anderson was busier than he had ever been, selling tractors as fast as they came off the transport truck, financing deals at 12%, 13%, 14% interest, rates that would have seemed insane a decade earlier but seemed manageable when grain prices were so high.
Jim stopped by Raymond’s farm on a hot afternoon in June 1980. Raymond was in the barn changing oil on the Super MTA when Jim’s new Chevy Suburban pulled up. Jim got out wearing expensive sunglasses and a John Deere polo shirt.
“Raymond, got a minute?”
Raymond wiped his hands on a rag. “Sure, Jim. What brings you out?”
“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you. You made it through a year with those old Farmalls. I’m impressed. I really am.”
“Thanks. Proved they could do the work.”
“Proved you could farm. I respect that.”
Jim walked over to the Super MTA, looked it up and down, touched the fender, got rust on his hand, wiped it on his pants.
“But you’ve proven your point now. You can farm. Everyone knows that. Now it’s time to upgrade to equipment that’ll let you really succeed. Let you really compete.”
“I’m not interested in competing. I’m interested in farming.”
“But that’s the same thing. Look, Raymond, I’ve got a barely used 4240 that just came in on trade. Beautiful machine. Only 200 hours on it. Guy upgraded to a 4640 after 1 year. I can let you have the 4240 for $32,000. That’s $6,000 off new, and I can get you financed with just $2,000 down.”
Raymond set down the oil pan he was holding. “Jim, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m not taking on a $30,000 debt. These 2 Farmalls are paid for. They work. That’s all I need.”
“But you’re leaving money on the table. With modern equipment, you could farm faster, more efficiently. You could take on more ground. I know Earl Thompson’s looking to lease out 80 acres because he can’t keep up with his current equipment. You could lease that, expand to 270 acres. With a 4240, you could handle it easy.”
“And how much would that cost me?”
“Well, lease payment on the ground would be maybe $40 an acre. That’s $3,200. Your tractor payment would be about $550 a month, so $6,600 a year. Call it $10,000 total. But you’d make that back easy with the additional income from the extra acres.”
Raymond did the math. “So I’d add $10,000 in fixed costs, costs I have to pay whether the crop’s good or not, to maybe make $15,000 more gross income, which after expenses might net me $8,000. That’s less than I’m making now, and I’d have all the risk.”
“But, Raymond, land values are going up 15% a year. This is the time to leverage up and grow. Everyone’s doing it. Dale Patterson just bought a new 4440. Tom Miller got a 4640 and a new combine. Bob Anderson, no relation, bought another 80 acres and upgraded all his equipment. These guys are positioning themselves for the future.”
“Or positioning themselves to lose everything when the cycle turns.”
Jim laughed, that same laugh from the auction. “You really think there’s going to be some kind of crisis, Raymond? Agriculture is booming. This is the best time in history to be a farmer. Grain prices are at record highs. Export markets are wide open. The government’s encouraging production. Land values are rising. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“That’s exactly what worries me. When everyone’s saying the same thing, when everyone’s confident, when prices seem too good to be true, that’s usually right before everything falls apart.”
“That’s a very pessimistic way to look at the greatest agricultural boom in American history.”
“I prefer to call it cautious.”
Jim shook his head, took off his sunglasses, looked at Raymond with something between pity and frustration.
“Raymond, you’re going to regret this. I’m telling you, in 5 years, you’ll be farming the same 190 acres with the same old tractors while your neighbors own 500, 1,000 acres with modern equipment and operations that actually make money. And you’ll realize you missed the opportunity because you were too scared to take a calculated risk.”
“Maybe. Or maybe in 5 years I’ll still be farming while they’re working in town because they couldn’t make their payments when things got tough.”
Jim put his sunglasses back on. “I guess we’ll see. But when you’re ready, and you will be ready eventually, come see me. The offer stands.”
He got in his Suburban and drove away.
Raymond went back to changing oil on his 26-year-old tractor and wondered if maybe everyone else was right and he was wrong.
But he did not buy the 4240.
He kept farming his 190 acres with his 2 old Farmalls.
Then 1981 came.
The 1980s farm crisis hit like a tsunami that no 1 saw coming, even though all the signs were there.
It started in 1981 when Paul Volcker, chairman of the Federal Reserve, decided to break inflation by driving interest rates to levels not seen since the Civil War. The prime rate, the baseline for all other rates, hit 21% in June 1981.
21%.
Farm loans that had been at 12% when farmers took them out in 1980 suddenly renewed at 18%, 19%, 20% when the term ended. Equipment payments doubled. Land payments doubled. Operating loans became crushing burdens that grew larger every year instead of getting paid down.
A farmer who had taken on a $650 monthly payment in 1980 suddenly faced a $920 payment in 1983, and that was if the bank would even renew the loan. Many banks, seeing the writing on the wall, started calling loans early and demanding full payment.
The interest-rate spike was only half the problem.
The other half was the grain embargo. President Carter, in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, had placed an embargo on grain exports to the USSR. President Reagan continued it. Suddenly the export markets that had driven grain prices to record highs disappeared overnight.
Corn that had been $3.50 a bushel in 1980 crashed to $2.10 by 1982.
Soybeans went from $7.60 to $5.20.
Wheat collapsed.
Every commodity crashed.
Then land values followed. The farmland that had been appreciating at 15% to 20% a year started dropping fast, 10%, 20%, 30% in some areas. Farmers who bought land at peak prices in 1980 or 1981 suddenly owed more than the land was worth. They were underwater with no way to refinance.
The combination was lethal.
Higher payments plus lower income plus underwater assets equaled financial death.
Raymond’s neighbor to the south, Dale Patterson, was 1 of the 1st to go under.
Dale was 42 years old, had been farming his whole life. 280 acres his father had given him. Good farmer, hard worker, did everything right except for 1 decision.
In May 1980, Dale had traded his paid-off 1968 John Deere 4020 for a new 4440.
Jim Anderson’s deal had been attractive. $8,000 trade-in value on the 4020. $42,000 for the new 4440. Financed $34,000 at 13% over 7 years. Monthly payment, $650.
Dale could afford that in 1980. His 280 acres were netting him about $40,000 a year. $650 a month was manageable. Uncomfortable, but manageable.
But when his loan came due for renewal in March 1983, the bank offered him a new rate: 19%.
His payment jumped to $920.
At the same time, his income had dropped. The price crash meant his 280 acres were only netting about $22,000. Now his payment had gone from about 16% of income to over 50%.
He could not make it.
Dale tried everything. He refinanced, adding the missed payments to the principal. Took out an operating loan to plant that spring, another $20,000 at 18%. Borrowed from his father. Borrowed from his brother. Cut his family’s living expenses to nothing.
But by 1984, he was drowning.
The 4440 that had cost $48,000 new was now worth maybe $22,000 on the used market, if he could even find a buyer. He owed $35,000 on it. Even if he sold the tractor, he would still owe $13,000 on equipment he no longer owned.
He was trapped.
Could not sell.
Could not pay.
Could not farm without it.
In the spring of 1985, Dale’s bank called all his loans, demanded immediate full payment. Dale could not pay. The bank foreclosed.
Everything sold at auction in July.
The land.
The equipment.
The house.
Dale’s family had farmed that land since his grandfather broke it in 1923.
62 years.
3 generations.
Gone.
The 4440 that Dale had bought for $48,000 5 years earlier sold at auction for $18,000. The bank recovered $18,000 of the $35,000 Dale owed. Dale was left owing $17,000 on a tractor he no longer had, plus another $42,000 on land he no longer owned.
Dale, his wife, and their 3 kids moved to town. He got a job at the grain elevator, worked there for 18 years, never farmed again. He died in 2003 at age 61, a heart attack. Some said the stress of losing everything never left him.
Dale was not alone.
Not even close.
In Raymond’s immediate area, the 8 farms within a 5-mi radius, 6 lost everything between 1983 and 1987.
Tom Miller.
Bob Anderson.
The Hendricks boys.
Jim Patterson, Dale’s cousin.
Mike Sullivan.
All gone.
All foreclosed.
All because they had taken on debt they could not service when times got bad.
The crisis was so severe that small-town implement dealers started going out of business, including Jim Anderson’s dealership.
Jim closed the doors of Anderson’s John Deere in November 1986 after 23 years in business. He could not sell new equipment when no 1 could afford payments. Could not make money on used equipment that had lost half its value and still was not selling. He liquidated everything at auction, the inventory, the parts department, the service equipment, even the building, which was sold to a man who turned it into a storage facility.
Jim Anderson, who had laughed at Raymond for buying 2 old Farmalls, who had pushed debt on dozens of farmers, who had built a business on equipment financing, went out of business himself. He moved to Florida, retired early at 53, and never sold another tractor.
Through all of it, through the rate spikes, through the price crashes, through the foreclosures and the auctions and the neighbors losing everything, Raymond Cooper kept farming.
The 1954 Super MTA kept running.
The 1960 560 kept working.
Old.
Slow.
Completely obsolete by modern standards.
No cabs.
No air conditioning.
No fancy hydraulics.
Just simple mechanical tractors that Raymond could maintain himself with basic tools and salvage-yard parts.
Raymond’s costs were minimal.
No equipment payments. Everything was paid for.
No land payment. He owned the 190 acres free and clear.
Just seed, fertilizer, fuel, and living expenses, maybe $15,000 a year total to operate.
In bad years, and there were several in the mid-1980s, Raymond made less money, a lot less. His net income dropped as low as $8,000 in 1984.
But $8,000 with no payments was survivable.
$8,000 with payments would have meant foreclosure.
He never missed buying seed.
Never missed paying property taxes.
Never worried about the bank calling his loans because he did not have any loans to call.
In 1985, Dale Patterson’s auction happened on a Saturday in July.
Raymond went.
He felt obligated to.
Dale had been his neighbor, his friend. They had helped each other with harvests. Their kids had played together.
The auction yard was packed, maybe 200 people. Most just there to watch, some there to bid, a few there to gloat. There is always someone who finds satisfaction in another person’s misfortune.
Dale stood off to the side with his wife, Mary. Both looked 20 years older than they should. Mary was crying quietly. Dale just stared at the ground.
The auctioneer went through everything. The 4440 that had caused all that trouble, the combine, the planter, the smaller equipment, the household goods, everything.
Raymond bid on 1 item.
A 1958 Farmall 450 that Dale had been using for lighter work. It was small, basic, similar to Raymond’s 560.
Raymond bid $1,800.
No 1 countered.
He got it.
After the auction, Raymond found Dale.
“Dale, I’m sorry.”
Dale nodded. Could not speak. Just nodded.
“I bought the 450. I’ll take care of it.”
“I know you will. You take care of your equipment. Always did.”
They stood there in silence. Finally, Dale said, “Jim Anderson laughed at you when you bought those 2 old Farmalls. You remember?”
“I remember.”
“Called them junk. Said you’d fail. Said you needed modern equipment to compete.”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s laughing now? Jim’s out of business. I lost my farm. Half the county lost their farms. And you’re still farming with the same tractors everyone said were worthless.”
Raymond did not know what to say.
Dale continued.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. About what I did wrong. And you know what I realized? I didn’t do anything wrong except listen to the wrong people. Jim told me I needed that 4440. The bank told me the loan was smart. Everyone told me I needed to modernize and grow, and I believed them.”
“You couldn’t have known what was coming.”
“Maybe not. But you did. You saw it. You said something to me in 1980. I remember. We were at the co-op. You said, ‘When everyone’s confident, that’s when I get nervous.’ I thought you were just being pessimistic. Turns out you were being smart.”
Raymond went home that day with Dale’s old 450 on a trailer and a heavy heart.
He kept farming.
The years after 1987 were quieter. The crisis had stabilized. The worst was over. The survivors, and there were not many, started rebuilding. The casualties moved on to other careers, other lives.
Raymond was 40 years old now.
He had been farming for 8 years, still running the same 2 Farmalls he had bought at auction in 1979, now 33 and 27 years old, plus the 450 from Dale’s auction.
His operation had not grown. Still farming the same 190 acres. Still living in the same modest farmhouse. Still driving the same old pickup truck.
But he was surviving.
Actually doing better than surviving.
He was paying his bills, saving money, building something sustainable.
In 1990, he started thinking about expansion for the 1st time.
The Morrison farm, adjacent to his east property line, came up for sale. The Morrisons had lost it in 1985. The bank had held on to it, renting it out to cover taxes. Now they wanted to sell. 80 acres, good ground, well-drained, would fit perfectly with Raymond’s operation.
The asking price was $68,000.
That was $850 per acre.
Fair price for 1990.
Raymond had been saving carefully. 11 years of farming, living below his means, putting away every extra dollar. He had $42,000 in the bank. He could put that down as a hefty down payment and finance the remaining $26,000 at reasonable post-crisis interest rates, around 8%.
The payment would be maybe $300 a month.
He could handle that.
But Raymond thought about the 1980s, about Dale and Tom and Bob and all the others, about what debt had done to them.
He made a different decision.
He waited.
60 days later, the real estate agent called him back.
“Raymond, I’ve got a counteroffer situation. The buyers who were interested backed out. The bank really wants this property sold. They’d take $60,000 cash if someone could close quick.”
Raymond thought about it for 3 days.
Then he called his parents.
His father, now 72, had money saved from 40 years of carpentry. Raymond explained the situation.
“Dad, I need to borrow $20,000. I’ll pay you back at 6% over 5 years. That’s my word.”
His father thought about it for maybe 30 seconds.
“Yes.”
Raymond sold some savings bonds his uncle had left him. That gave him $18,000.
Combined with the $42,000 he had saved, plus the $20,000 from his dad, he had $80,000.
He offered the bank $60,000 cash, closing in 30 days.
They accepted.
Raymond bought the 80 acres free and clear, added it to his 190. Now he had 270 acres, all paid off.
No mortgage, no debt except the personal loan to his father, which he paid back in 4 years instead of 5.
He farmed it all with his 3 old Farmalls.
The 1954 Super MTA, now 36 years old.
The 1960 560, now 30 years old.
The 1958 450, now 32 years old.
Combined age of 98 years.
Combined purchase price, including the repairs, under $5,000.
They kept working.
In 1995, another opportunity came.
120 acres north of his property. The owner, an elderly widow, wanted to retire and move to town to be near her daughter. She had inherited the land from her husband, who had died in 1988. She had not farmed it herself, had been leasing it out. Now she just wanted to sell and simplify her life.
Asking price: $110,000.
That was about $917 per acre.
A little high, but good ground.
Raymond had been farming for 16 years now. He had saved another $35,000 since the last purchase. But $110,000 was more than he had ever spent on anything.
He thought about it for a week. Did the math 100 different ways.
Finally, he decided he would take out a loan, but structure it carefully, very carefully.
He took out a loan for $75,000. Put down $35,000. 15-year note at 8%. Payment: $717 a month. High, but manageable even in bad years. Critically, he could pay it off early if things went well, without penalty.
He bought the 120 acres in March 1995.
Then he farmed harder than he had ever farmed.
Kept his personal expenses even lower than usual.
Lived like a monk.
Put every extra dollar toward that loan.
He paid it off in 8 years, by 2003, 12 years ahead of schedule.
By 2004, at age 56, Raymond Cooper owned 390 acres free and clear, worth about $400,000 at 2004 land values, all of it farmed over 25 years with equipment he had bought used and paid for in cash.
His total equipment investment over a quarter century was about $18,000 total, including repairs.
Compare that to farmers who had financed 1 new tractor in 1980 for $48,000 and were still making payments on replacement equipment 24 years later.
The 1954 Super MTA was now 50 years old and still his primary tractor.
The 1960 560 was 44 years old and still working daily.
He had added a few more tractors over the years, always used, always paid for, but those 2 originals were still the backbone of his operation.
In 2009, 15 years after buying that last piece of land, and 30 years after buying those 2 Farmalls at auction, Raymond got a call from a number he did not recognize.
“Hello, is this Raymond Cooper?”
“Yes, this is Raymond.”
“Raymond, this is Jim Anderson. You probably don’t remember me, but—”
“I remember you, Jim. You owned the John Deere dealership. Laughed at me when I bought 2 old Farmalls in 1979.”
Silence on the line.
Then: “So you do remember. I was hoping you’d forgotten that part.”
“Hard to forget someone laughing at you in front of a crowd.”
“Yeah. That’s actually why I’m calling. Raymond, I owe you an apology. A big 1. I treated you terribly. I mocked you. I pushed debt on young farmers who couldn’t afford it. And I was wrong about everything.”
Raymond sat down.
This was unexpected.
“Okay.”
“When you bought those 2 old Farmalls in 1979, I laughed. Called them junk. Told you you’d fail. Told you you needed a new 4240 to succeed. You remember all that?”
“I remember.”
“I was wrong. Completely wrong. Those tractors weren’t junk. And you didn’t fail. You succeeded. You’re still farming. Still have your farm.”
“Meanwhile, most of the guys I sold new equipment to, they lost everything. And my dealership went out of business because I built it on a model that destroyed my customers.”
“Jim, why are you calling after 30 years?”
“Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot. About the farmers who lost everything. About Dale Patterson and Tom Miller and Bob Anderson and all the others. Good men who trusted me. Who believed me when I told them they needed debt to succeed. And most of them lost their farms because they listened to me. But you survived with those 2 old Farmalls I said were junk. And I’ve been carrying that around for 23 years since I closed the dealership. Just carrying the guilt of knowing I pushed debt on people who couldn’t afford it because that’s how I made money.”
Raymond did not know what to say.
Jim continued.
“I’m calling to say I’m sorry. I was wrong. You were right. Those old Farmalls weren’t junk. They were better than any new tractor I could have sold you because they came with something new equipment didn’t. They were paid for. And paid-for equipment saved your farm while financed equipment destroyed everyone else’s.”
“I appreciate you calling, Jim. That takes guts.”
“It’s 30 years overdue. Raymond, I just wanted you to know that you were right and I was wrong. Those old Farmalls weren’t junk. They were freedom.”
They talked for a few more minutes. Jim had retired to Arizona, played golf, traveled, never sold another tractor, never wanted to.
Raymond hung up the phone and sat at his kitchen table for a long time thinking about that conversation.
Jim Anderson died in 2012.
Raymond went to the funeral in Florida, paid his respects, forgave him, really forgave him, even though Jim had already apologized.
And Raymond thought about what Jim had said.
Those old Farmalls weren’t junk.
They were freedom.
Raymond Cooper was 76 years old now. He retired from active farming in 2018 after 39 years. He leases his 390 acres to a young farmer on fair terms, the same terms he wishes someone had offered him in 1979. He helps the young farmer with maintenance and advice when asked. He does not charge him for that help.
The 1954 Farmall Super MTA is still on the property. 70 years old. Raymond keeps it running, uses it for light work around the yard, moving things, small projects. It has been part of his life for 45 years now. He has rebuilt the engine twice, replaced the clutch 3 times, gone through every system on that tractor. He cannot imagine selling it.
That tractor saved his life.
The 1960 560 is still there too.
64 years old.
Also still functional.
Raymond is working on a full restoration now that he has time, taking it completely apart, repainting it, replacing worn parts, making it look like it did when it rolled off the assembly line in 1960.
Not because he needs to.
Just because he wants to.
Because that tractor deserves it.
Recently, a young agricultural journalist came to interview Raymond for a story about surviving the 1980s farm crisis.
“Mr. Cooper, what would you tell young farmers starting out today?”
Raymond thought for a long time before answering.
“I’d tell them what I learned over 39 years. Ownership beats payments every single time. Modern equipment is impressive, efficient, comfortable, makes farming easier in a lot of ways. But if you can’t afford it without debt, that puts your operation at risk. You don’t need it.”
“I farmed for 39 years. Built a 390-acre operation. Never owned a new tractor. Never had an equipment payment after 1979. Never lost sleep wondering if I could make a payment because I didn’t have any payments to make.”
“The dealer laughed when I bought 2 old Farmalls in 1979. Told me they were junk. Told me I’d fail. Told me I needed modern equipment to succeed. But 15 years later, when half the county had lost their farms, I still had mine because those junk tractors didn’t require payments I couldn’t afford.”
“That dealer went out of business. Most of his customers lost their farms, the ones who listened to him, and took on debt for new equipment. But those 2 old Farmalls are still here, still running, still proving that paid-for beats payment-required.”
“What would you change if you could do it all over again?”
Raymond smiled.
“Nothing. Not 1 thing. I’d buy those same 2 tractors at that same auction, make those same conservative choices, live below my means again, ignore everyone telling me I was doing it wrong, because it worked. I kept my farm. I built something. I survived when smarter guys, better farmers lost everything because they took on debt they couldn’t afford. And that’s worth more than any new tractor with an air-conditioned cab ever could be.”
The dealer laughed when he bought 2 old Farmalls.
15 years later, the dealer was out of business and half the county had lost their farms.
But Raymond still had his farm.
Still had those tractors.
Still was proving every single day that the best equipment is the equipment you own.
Sometimes the people laughing at you are the ones who end up losing everything.
And sometimes the junk you bought is the only thing that saves you.
