These white, weathered castles still stand strong
against the deep blue skies. They stand as a testimonial to a time gone
by. Many of them have already been burned down and replaced by more modern
and less enchanting concrete cylinders. While still impressive, the new
ones seem less human and more profit driven.
The old grain elevators are burned down because they were built too well
and it would cost a small fortune to tear them down. Uncle Bud described
one to me where the entire outside walls were 2x6’s nailed in a crisscross
fashion and stacked to the height of the wall. Many of them, no longer in
use, represent a tax burden that the small towns and owners don’t care to
deal with. At one time there was one in almost every little town, Lorton,
Dunbar, Talmage, Otoe, to name just a few.
Each of these elevators has its own personality and stories to tell. Many
have been covered over by tin. Most all show signs of peeling paint to
various degrees, a condition which, by the way, adds to their individual
character. Many have various signs and lettering painted on them. Mostly
these images are weathered and faded, too.
These elevators were still in use when I was a boy and I can remember
going into town with a stake truck full of grain with Uncle Dean or Uncle
Bud and his son Ernie to deliver to one of these castles.
I remember the men that worked them, too. They were different, different
than Uncle Bud and Uncle Dean and those who worked the farms. They seemed
more like city men in farmer’s clothes. To a little boy they seemed like
wolves in sheep’s clothing. I don’t know if this was a fair assessment,
but it was what I felt as a child.
In the summer of 2003 I painted this scene of the Grain Elevator at
Syracuse, Nebraska. It looks on from the hind side of the elevator. I was
at a spot where the country fair had been just a few days prior.
I would return in October of that year and paint it again from the front.
