Classic Tractor Tales: The art of tractors - Greenmount Press

CLASSIC TRACTOR TALESThe art of tractorsBy Ian M. JohnstonThe UGLY Fordson Model N. (As seen at a tractor rally at Henty).The SLEEK David Brown Cropmaster. (Restored by the author).THE DAVID BROWNMASTERPIECEI know this will come as a surprise tomany, but way way back in the mists oftime, when I was a tousle haired lad inScotland, I actually did go to school. I wasa lazy, delinquent and obnoxious pupil –according to my form master. To this wasadded “impertinent”, when I dared protestthe validity of these assertions. A bit overthe top though I thought, even althoughI accepted the fact that, from a master’spoint of view, I was undoubtedly a realpain-in-the-wotsit.I seemed to be hopeless at everything,apart from rugby and (remarkably) English.The reason I regularly topped the Englishresults was because I actually enjoyedcomposition, parsing, analysis and evenShakespeare. In other words, it all cameeasy to me without having to swot andstudy the subject.So what has all this totally tedious andirrelevant information got to do with oldtractors – about which I am expected towrite? Bear with me.My art exam results were nearly as abysmalas those of my Latin efforts. In fact ourart master (a Mr Salveson who was a Scandinavianand resembled a cross betweenAlf Garnet and Saddam Hussein) consideredmy parents were wasting their hardearned savings by sending young Johnstonto these particular Halls of Academia andshould consider putting the exorbitant feesinto an investment that would return bettervalue – such as betting on the horses!One particularly dark freezing winter’sday, Mr Salveson had the central heatingturned up full, so that the racks of pipesthrough which the searing hot water circulated,were throbbing and gurgling inprotest. The oven-like temperature in theArt Hall had the entire class sweating profusely,yet Mr. Salveson strutted up anddown between the rows of desks, envelopedin a heavy greatcoat and layers ofscarfs and thick gloves, exclaiming that itwas “Bitter boys.”Following a lecture on the subject of theperspective of curves and straights, he announcedthat in order to determine we hadall been paying attention, we would eachnow produce a line drawing of a farm tractor.Wow! That had me instantly alert. Thiswas my forté. I knew little about Latin andFrench verbs, and even less about algebraicequations and chemistry formulae.(Well, I mean to say, eight out of 100 forchemistry, and five of these were for neatness!)But gee whiz – I knew everythingabout tractors!Whilst more dedicated boys had beenstudying these afore mentioned unpleasantand boring subjects, I had had my nose welland truly stuck in my comprehensive collectionof tractor pamphlets, each of whichI could practically recite from memory.46 — THE AUSTRALIAN COTTONGROWER FEBRUARY–MARCH 2009

Accordingly, for the first time ever inthe art class, I produced a resplendentdrawing, which happened to be of a DavidBrown Cropmaster. I was able to sketchit perfectly to scale purely from memoryand include all the levers, badges and otherdoo-dahs. Proudly I laid the finished masterpiecebefore me on the desk.INDIGNATIONMr Salveson meandered around thesteamy room insisting that “The cold isbitter boys.” Occasionally he passed commentson the various efforts displayed forhis inspection and even infrequently utteredwords of approval and encouragement.Approaching from my rear, his footstepspaused as he peered over my shoulder atmy masterpiece. I leaned back so that hewould be sure to have an uninterruptedview of the David Brown.“What is this?” he barked.“Eh? It is a tractor Sir” I replied, perplexedby this unexpected response. I hadanticipated my tractor would have beenheld up before the class as an inspiration.“You are an obtuse boy, obviously withno knowledge of farm tractors” he stated,gazing heavenwards and shaking hishead.“Bbb...ut this is a David Brown CropmasterSir” I endeavoured to explain.“I instructed you to draw a tractor boy,not a vulgar American car.”“The new David Brown is streamlinedand has a bonnet a bit like an Americancar” I protested, and then added insolently“Sir.”“What rubbish – and watch your tongueyoung man” he added threateningly.“I drive one on the farm!” This with myvoice raised in frustration.“Take one hundred lines for insolenceand consider yourself fortunate not to receivea severe thrashing. How dare youquestion me on the subject of tractors.”Mr Salveson turned to the class. “Sothat we can endeavour to educate youngJohnston about tractors, I shall now drawone on the blackboard.” With a menacingglance in my direction he selected a pieceof chalk and commenced to draw a brilliantreplica of – a Fordson Model N.There was no doubt about Mr Salveson’stalent as an artist. Considering hewas a schoolmaster and not a farmer ortractor design engineer, I could appreciatethe excellence of his drawing. My DavidBrown I knew was good, but Mr Salveson’sFordson was simply amazing.But inside I was seething! It was obviousthat Mr Salveson was not abreast with thenew era of tractors. The Fordson N waslittle different from the Fordson F, whichwas first released in 1927. The DagenhamFord works had persisted with the design.It was antiquated and ugly, when comparedto the sleek David Brown Cropmaster. Thenew range of Massey Harris, InternationalHarvester, Case and Turner tractors, toname a few, released in the late 1940s,were also styled and indeed streamlined.Rather than risk provoking Mr Salvesonfurther, I knew a foolproof way of establishingmy tractor credentials, which he wouldhave to accept. The boys in the class hadbeen mightily amused by the proceedings,as each one knew of my association withfarms and my knowledge of tractors, so Ihad nothing to prove there.RETRIBUTIONEach school morning Mr Salvesonalighted from a number 24 tram and commencedthe challenging walk up OrchardBrae Road which took him in the directionof the school. Regularly I would passhim as I weaved my way up the stiff climbon my bicycle. It was a required courtesyto say “Good morning Sir” as I laboured…48sFEBRUARY–MARCH 2009 THE AUSTRALIAN COTTONGROWER — 47