Route 1, Box 309, Frederic, Wissconsin.
For some time Morris Blomgren (Siren, Wis.) had known about this
1911 tractor sunk in a bog, not far from Milaca, Minn. It was
driven out there during the depression and the dry years of the
1930s. It seems the owner Ray Oskey, had a fantasy some forty years
ago, that by mounting a winch on the frame of this tractor, it
could be used as a dragline to excavate gravel from those hills on
the back forty, up the road a half mile. The thought of selling
gravel for roads, to the township, or even the county in those
depression years was not to be underestimated, and if it could be
done without the usual hand shoveling, all the better. Oskey was a
thresherman, as well as a farmer and owned several tractors, but
this Minneapolis Universal farm tractor was ‘just the
checker’ for this gravel project. He removed the original
opposed motor (keeping all parts) and placed a Dodge motor under
the horizontal channel iron frame. Somewhere, he obtained a power
winch complete with brake and ?’ cable. This unit built on a
cast iron base 3×5 feet was fitted on top the tractor frame, and so
arranged that the motor could propell the tractor as well as
operate the winch. One would have to admit the work of a genious
and the hopes for a fortune.
The time had come when Oskey and his two sons were to make the
trip to the prospective gravel pit and go into business. What a
picture that would have made as they came down the road with that
most modern monstrosity. In those years wild hay was salvaged from
every meadow, since all farmers had cattle and roughage was at a
premium. To avoid hilly ground to the pit site, they would chance a
shortcut across this meadow where they had harvested hay. In so
doing for some reason the machine came to a grinding halt. In
efforts to get it going, somehow a fire started and burning the hay
stubble, set the peet bog on fire and thus ended a project, after
all that preparation and anticipation.
The following years this meadow was again under water and in
that time, muskrats had seen fit to use it for their home and it
was now evident, even beavers had anticipated its possibilities.
About fifteen years ago Morris met Oskey for the first time, and
did buy a Hart-Parr tractor and several gas engines. At that time
he was told about this ill-fated tractor. Very few people knew of
this stalemate in the swamp and couldn’t care less. From a
certain point on a town road it was possible to see the cab of the
tractor protruding above the catails. (See Although Morriss- hopes
to ever retrieve this illusive item were very remote, he still
could not perish the thought; what a ‘conversation piece,’
if, getting it out was possible. He often stopped at Oskeys to
visit and salvage original parts. Sifting thru the, heaps of junk
on the hillsides, was hampered by brush, bees, and hornets.
Although many parts are to be found, he has the gas tank, radiator,
and numerous motor parts.
In the spring of 1976, he could no longer resist the temptation
to wade out to the tractor and size up the possibilities, knowing
too well, if word got out some collector would take up pursuit.
Thus in the month of June, Morris, using a 6 foot pole to probe
ahead of him for underlying snags or depressions, clambered thru
cattails and mud; at one point in water to his waist. To his
surprise the cab was in good condition, and the winch above water,
but to retrieve it seemed beyond the bounds of common sense, at
this time. The serious drought in this northwest area, prompted
another checkup in Sept. To his surprise the water had now
disappeared, and he could now walk out to the tractor, though it
was spongy and damp underfoot. This was indeed a breakthrough for
renewed anxiety, and his conclusion was, ‘now or never,’
lest a rainy spell might occur.
Morris then contacted Richard Knutson, a collector near Braham,
Minn, who has an implement truck with tilt bed and winch. Thus the
countdown was on for Sept. 28.1 was to ride with Morris for the 75
mile trip in his ’67 Rambler, which was loaded with cables,
chains, jacks, and blocking. About 5 miles northwest of Milaca, we
met Knutson at the Oskey place. Oskey drives a hard bargain, but
finally agreed to sell the outfit, as is, minus the winch. Oskey
now in his 80s had recently purchased a D7 Cat. Speculation was
that it could be rented for $10.00 per hour, but Oskey added, as
how he had been down to that swamp and sunk a 15 foot pole and no
bottom, and to mire that 7 ton beast would be something. Knutson to
the challenge dared think he could pull the mired tractor with his
truck winch, and willing to give it a try.
To reach the high ground closest to the tractor, it was
necessary to drive the truck ? mile over rough terrain between
trees and thru undergrowth 6 to 8 feet high. I had an inner feeling
this was all in vain, but then, ‘nothing ventured, nothing
gained.’ Somehow Knutson managed to spot his truck atop this 75
foot hill, tilted the bed to anchor it against a group of birch
trees. By 300 feet of cable and several lengths of chain, we could
reach the loot. However, due to a narrow island in the swamp
between the truck and tractor, it was impossible to see that
tractor cab. Thus with Morris at the tractor and Knutson at the
truck, I was to be stationed at a point offside with a long pole
and red flag to be held high as long as all went well at the
tractor end. Thus having the setup oriented, our next move was to
free the potential prospect out of the three foot bog. Before this
it was time for lunch. Blomgren and Knutson had quite a time with
bread, margarine, and mustard sardines (with only a plier for a can
opener), add to that, several kinds of cookies, then back to the
project.
To free the tractor was no easy matter, you don’t shovel
cat-tail roots, you chop with an ax and pull them out; sod bound is
the words. Then shoveling out the muck was a tacky job and add to
that, moreso as the tractor had to make a quarter turn to face the
pull of the cable. Since the winch on the tractor was not in the
deal, and only added weight, perhaps a short ton, quick work was
made of that. With a hacksaw and a highlift jack it was slid off
the far side into the brushes. In case anyone is interested
it’s still there. With Knutson back at the truck, and Morris
with his highlift jack set on planks and against the rear wheel
lugs, inch by inch the wheels again were turning after some four
decades. Without either the cable tension, or highlift jack, all
efforts would have been in vain. Once the tractor got turned and
out of the hold, the bog roots held its weight, and the winch was
able to pull the machine, though it was necessary to take up the
slack many times. It slowly crept over the island and up to the
base of the hill and all went well, but it was now 7 bells and
darkness setting in. Knutson had other commitments the next day,
and my wife and I were flying to Seattle, so it was to continue the
pursuit now, using flashlight. The pull up this hill was the real
obstacle course. The tension on the cable, rendered any steering
useless, and we weren’t about to get into the cab; a breakage
at this point would sure spell disaster. Thank goodness the winch
had a safety slippage point. About a tractor length up the hill we
were heading toward a red oak stump with its thicket of new shoots.
Some quick work with Knutson’s chainsaw solved that. Halfway up
the hill a cluster of leaning birches caught the top of the left
driver. By chopping the innerside we were able to pull on the birch
with a loadbinder enough to clear.
By this time it was necessary to anchor the old iron to a tree
and reset the truck to come over the top with Morris’ loot.
Then another stump, and a thornapple tree to cut, and it was over
the hump.
Mission accomplished, and the time 9:30. From here on out it
would have to be pulled by some tractor to level ground near the
road, a rather minor task for another day. The problem now was to
find all the cables, chains etc. I was very uneasy about finding
our way out of the woods. Headlights in all that underbrush seemed
useless. Thank the Lord we made it. ‘All is well that ends
well.’ Before going out the gate by the road, we took time to
finish up the cookies, and got home by midnight.
The next day Morris with his good naber’ Donald Blanding,
went back in further pursuit to get. that 20-40 out of the woods.
The first nearby farmer contacted, said (in no way did he want to
get involved). The second stop; this farmer was busy picking corn
but very cooperative and not much concerned about pay, ‘If you
can run that International diesel setting in that shed, go
ahead.’ While towing the ‘old-iron,’ Morris was glad to
find the foot brake was still very good. About a mile pull, and it
was in the farmer’s yard. At a later date Knutson loaded the
tractor and was in Morris yard at 6 a.m., where it now sets amongst
the next of kin. Having extension rims this load was over-width, so
Knutson crossed the state line while the cops were sleeping. Morris
still needs many parts, but in the meantime he has his
‘conversation piece.’
Faintly readable on the fuel tank ‘Minneapolis Universal
Farm Motor.’ He has paged through hundreds of hobby magazines
in search of information on this old veteran, and is stumped how
come it’s called a Rumely Gas-pull? (See Iron Men Album
Sept-Oct 1964 page 45) Can any one come up with the history on this
old ‘Iron horse?’
