50 Years Ago
Late Winter/Early Spring 1954
by Maurice Telleen
published in The Draft Horse Journal, Spring 2004

(From breed publications and general news sources of the period)

For the first time, the Rose Bowl Parade and football game were broadcast on TV in color. So for the first time viewers could see the Budweiser Clydes as bays–rather than black and white, as they pulled the City of St. Louis float. That is a job they have had a lock on since the 1930s. I suppose that color business was somehow factored into a government index that measured “quality of life.” Michigan State beat UCLA in the football game and, I reckon, that improved the quality of life in East Lansing, at least for a day or two.

Just a month after the Rose Bowl came an announcement that for the first time ever, anywhere, the frozen food business in the U.S. had exceeded one billion dollars during the previous year, with retail sales of $1.2 billion and 3.38 billion pounds sold. I always find it incredible that the number crunchers can come up with figures like that–3.38 billion pounds, instead of 3.37 or 3.39 billion pounds. I suppose it is the precision of it that lends credibility and makes it more official and, thus, believable.

I was still, but not for long, living in Iowa City that spring. I can distinctly recall witnessing this conversation on the street the day that report came out. One guy said to another, “Did you hear that 3.38 billion pounds of frozen food was sold in this country last year?” “No, I hadn’t, no fooling–3.38 billion pounds?” “Yep, 3.38 billion.” “Wow!” Then, still in a mild state of shock, the second guy walked into a lamp post.

Other important things were happening, too–as they always are. On January 21 of that year, we launched the first atomic-powered submarine. Mamie Eisenhower, the president’s wife, busted the bottle of champagne on its bow. It had cost around 55 million dollars (not a precise figure, like the frozen food sales) and it was an amazing vessel, capable of running fast and deep. They claimed it could cruise around the world without surfacing because of its atomic-powered engines. Of course, the crew might well go out of its mind if it stayed down that long, but it had the capability.

The Cold War was in full flower so there was an almost endless round of talks and meetings on arms control. The push and shove between the two camps, in places all around the world, also seemed endless. One such place was Indo-China where France was in big trouble with its ex-colony. President Eisenhower made a very wise observation on that one, saying that he could think of no greater tragedy than for the U.S. to getinvolvedinthatplace. Subsequent events proved Ike right on that one.

This constant friction of the Cold War provided Wisconsin’s Senator Joe McCarthy with a perfect environment in which to pursue his ongoing “investigations.” In February of that year, he shifted his road show from the State Department to the Army. When time came to appropriate funds for this investigation of the Army, there was only one senator with guts to vote against providing funds for McCarthy’s newest witch hunt. It was Senator Fullbright from Arkansas.

Army Secretary Stevens issued an order to high ranking officers to ignore any summons to appear before this committee. Things got very nasty and Secretary Stevens was forced to back down. It is too involved to deal with in a short column like this, but Stevens, in rage and humiliation, went to the White House. President Eisenhower, up to that time, had stayed aloof of McCarthy’s vigilantism hoping, I think, that Tail Gunner Joe would self destruct. Stevens got some satisfaction in the form of a statement, endorsed by the president, stating that Army personnel would not be browbeaten by such committees.

A couple of weeks later, Edward R. Murrow, the chief CBS commentator, and a man with a lot bigger constituency than McCarthy, went on the air accusing the Wisconsin senator of half-truths and bullying. The Army also struck back. The hearings dragged on until June, but it took clear up into December of that year for his fellow senators to lower the boom on this loose cannon from Wisconsin. On December 2, 1954, the Senate voted 67 to 22 to condemn Joseph R. McCarthy for conduct unbecoming a senator. Much was made of the fact that this was no mere censure. It was condemnation.

After that, McCarthy was dead meat. Three years later, he was really dead. He died on May 2, 1957. I know, that is jumping ahead a bit but I never want to mention him again in this 50 Years Ago column. It will be a relief.

Beware of the first day of the month. On January 1 of that year we got color television of the Rose Bowl. On February 1 we got word of the growth of the frozen food industry. Surely something dramatic would happen on March 1.

And it did. One of our elected congressmen from the state of Iowa got shot–and he wasn’t out hunting, he was on duty. At least, he was in the chamber of the U.S. House of Representatives at the time. That is not a likely place to acquire a bullet wound.

But on that day, a couple of Puerto Rican fanatics got into the gallery of that body and opened fire, wounding five members of Congress, including Ben Jensen, a Republican from Iowa. Most seriously injured was a congressman from Michigan. None of them died. There were nearly 200 people on the floor of the House at the time, including both elected representatives and their staff members. The capital guards quickly overpowered the “terrorists” (for that is surely what they were by any reasonable definition).

That is all I remember about Jensen. He was a big fellow from southwest Iowa and sort of a rural type.

I don’t really know what normal times are but have become about half convinced that no one alive today has ever lived in normal times. Maybe there isn’t such a thing.

If the draft horse business in 1954 was normal, we can all be grateful that it didn’t last much longer. Another decade like that from 1945-1954 would have about extinguished the draft horse.

The Spring 1954 Percheron Notes for the U.S. was a little eight page sheet with a grand total of twenty advertisers, many of them small business card size ads. Nor was it chock full of news either, simply because there was not a whole lot going on, draft horse-wise. But those little twice a year publications did serve notice that, “Hey, we are still here and not about to go quietly into the night.”

One of those ads was from Charley House, Arcadia, Indiana, announcing the dates of the upcoming Indiana Draft Horse Breeder’s Sale at Indianapolis on March 10 & 11, 1954. That sale, and Hexom’s Spring Sale here in Waverly, were certainly not the only places where draft horses were sold at auction, but they were, I believe, the only two that (A.) made much noise, (B.) attracted a big crowd, and (C.) served as sort of a camp meeting or revival for the people who really believed in them.

A “last team” would show up on an occasional farm closing-out sale, but they were ridiculously cheap. It was those two big annual auctions that did a lot to keep the faith alive, as they say.

The Belgian Reviews, generally about forty pages, also did their part and down here in the states anyhow, that breed was considerably better off than their sister breeds.

The first major show of the year was, and still is, the Pennsylvania Farm Show in Harrisburg. That early 1954 show was reported in the 1954 Belgian Review. While it was small, it was roughly three times bigger than that miserable turnout of seven Belgians shown by two exhibitors at the ‘53 International in Chicago, a couple of months earlier. Heavens, it was three times bigger than the International. For at Harrisburg, there were twenty Belgian halter horses lead out by six exhibitors. So you take your encouragement where you find it. We will run a pair of photos from those two breed papers–from those times–one for each breed.

A couple years ago I received a letter and a few pictures from Wayne McKenzie, Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, that started out, “Hello. I am sending a few pictures from 50 years ago!”

Wayne now figures I just don’t pay any attention. Truth is, I’ve been waiting for just the right time. Since the contents of his letter are far more cheerful than this column has been so far, I’m going to run them now. Two years late, but close enough to 50 years ago. Here are some excerpts from Wayne’s letter and two of the pictures.

“1952 was the first Royal for my dad, George McKenzie, to have a heavy draft Belgian gelding named Silver to be selected to be part of the Saskatchewan horse exhibit. The 18 horses from the province were shipped by express rail to Toronto, 1,800 miles away.

“My mother and I went by passenger train those years. At that time, they had some special excursions, sponsored by the government (as were the livestock cars for the selected animals.).

“That was the last show for Meadow Brook’s Firestone horse. At Toronto, Firestone was 1st and grand champion Belgian gelding. A horse named Larry was reserve champion for the Honorable Dave Ure of Edmonton, Alberta. Silver, Dad’s horse, was 7th. That was the first class I would see at the ‘52 Royal.

Larry, 2nd prize Belgian gelding at the 1956 Royal Winter Fair for George McKenzie, Belbeck, Saskatchewan. Nine years old at the time, Larry stood 17.2 hh and weighed 2,400 pounds.	Doug Charles, Pleasantdale, Saskatchewan, with his black hitch that won the Clydesdale six-horse hitch class at the 1952 Royal Winter Fair. For about ten years in the ‘40s and ‘50s, Doug had the Clyde six-up that everyone was trying to defeat. He sold horses to Hawthorn-Melody, Libertyville, Illinois, and to the Crystal Dairy, Vancouver, B.C.

“In the fall of 1953, George McKenzie of Belbeck, Saskatchewan, bought Larry and his mate, Gale, as 5-year-olds for $800. Larry was in the swing of George McKenzie’s six at the 1953 Royal.

“Larry was 3rd prize Belgian draft gelding at the 1956 Royal when this photo was taken. He was 9 years old, stood 17.2 hands high and weighed 2,400 pounds.”

In 1957, the McKenzie six horse hitch won Brandon, Calgary, Edmonton, Regina and Vancouver. Larry was champion at all the western shows and supreme champion at Vancouver.

“When I heard that the Cobbs family from Indiana won the Clydesdale six at Toronto in 2002 with their black hitch, I was prompted to try to secure a picture of the Doug Charles’ six-up of black Clydes that won the Toronto Royal in 1952.“ (Wayne had done so and that picture of Doug Charles’ winning black six-up at Toronto, along with one of Larry appears with this column.).

Some people that you scarcely really know manage to leave a picture in your head that just doesn’t go away. Not yet, anyhow. I have such a picture of George McKenzie in my head. It was from a Royal. It was a Belgian team class and I’ll be darned if George doesn’t come into that ring, sitting on the box seat like he was at home on the porch–with his legs crossed. He was the picture of a relaxed and confident man. From his demeanor and body language, he could have been hauling a load of oats to the elevator.

Thanks, Wayne, for sharing these photos and your comments about them.