Lyon's Farm
Toward the end of the Great Depression, and a few years beyond, we lived at 101 North Fremont Street, between Williams and Vancouver Avenues, directly across the street from the Wonder Bread Bakery. I can remember being allowed to wander through that bakery and talk to the friendly workers at the dough-mixing, baking oven, and packaging stations. Those men were very proud of their work and were more than willing to take the time to explain what was happening, at each station. After many visits, I did get to know them quite well. Can you imagine that freedom of entry and communication taking place…Today?
In addition to the aroma of fresh baked bread wafting past our house almost every day, the location of our home was fortuitous, in that their Retail Bakery Outlet, where we purchased day-old bread and pastries, was only a block away; on the south side of their building, at 103 North Ivy Street. Today, unattractive vacant lots have taken the place of both our house and the bakery. Subsequently, the Retail Bakery Outlet was renamed the Wonder Bread - Hostess Cake Thrift Store; and relocated at 115 North Cook Street on the Northeast corner of Cook Street and Vancouver Avenue. Today, that Thrift Store is no longer in operation.
Because of the reduced prices, the location of that Retail Bakery Outlet was a Godsend to many people in the Albina District. I can recall many a day when my Grandfather, Henry Koch, would leave early in the morning; walk 20 blocks from his home at 3963 Northeast 14th Avenue; and stock-up on baked goods, from that Retail Outlet. Often, if you were late getting there, the shelves with the best breads and pastries would be bare. That Retail Bakery Outlet was a very busy place.
The Great Depression was a difficult time for many families, including ours. Because of unfortunate circumstances (we were on Direct Relief and Food Stamps, at the time), I was considered a disadvantaged boy; which offered me the opportunity to spend two weeks at a summer camp, called Lyon's Farm. Although that wonderful experience took place many years ago, during the summer of either 1940 or 1941, many segments of those days are still vivid in my memory. However, it was not until I began writing this story that I became aware; the real name of Lyon's Farm (everyone called it; Lyon's Farm) was The Big Brother Farm.
It was located about a mile-and-a-half due South of Lebanon, on the ease side South Main Road. The Big Brother Farm was on a 20-acre tract of land that Mr. Chester A. Lyon had purchased in September of 1913. That purchase soon fulfilled his dream of "…taking boys that were unfortunate in many ways…and giving them a new and better vision of life." A concurrent dream was also fulfilled, when The Big Sister Farm was opened, in 1923.
I have often wondered how it came to be, that I was one of those selected to spend two weeks at Lyon's Farm. In addition to filling in many memory blanks, while reliving that summer adventure, I may have found the answer to that wonderment; after Ms. Carol Dinges, Director of the Lebanon Public Library, provided me with a copy of the March 28, 2007 Historic Lebanon Edition of the Lebanon Express.
The saga began, when Mr. Lyon established Oregon's first Foster Home; in a big house owned by the state, at 1522 Northeast Junior Street, in Portland (about 15 blocks west of Concordia College; today's Concordia University, The Center for Volga German Studies). Recognizing the success of that innovative Foster Home concept, Judge Jacob Kanzler, who, in 1919, presided over the newly formed Court of Domestic Relations; asked Chester to be his assistant. Upon accepting that position, Mr. Lyon, with the support of Judge Kanzler, expanded that Foster Home program and, therein "…found a new source of kids in unfortunate situations."
As to how I came to be chosen to participate in that adventure, an enlightening situation might have occurred. Besides Judge Kanzler helping new German-Russian immigrants settle in Portland, he was an active member of the Zion German Congregational Church (he also taught Sunday school). In addition to having been in the Confirmation Class of 1945, it just so happens that, I am related to one of the organizing members of that Church, Brother Conrad Helzer. He was my Grand Uncle. Whether or not that Helzer/Kanzler/Lyon connection is the origin of my being invited to Lyon's Farm, I do not know. Nevertheless, I certainly like to think so, because of the closeness of the Volga German neighborhood, during that era.
The excitement of that trip to Lyon's Farm is still vivid in my memory. However, I do not remember the make or year of the car, other than it was a four-door sedan, transporting six or seven of us unfortunates, with Mr. Lyon driving. As a diversion, during that long, tedious journey, we sang songs, he told stories; and talked with each of us, in an effort to establish a "spirit of unity." Most memorable, we each took turns massaging his neck and shoulder muscles. According to Mr. Lyon, it was our unselfish efforts that helped relieve the tension of his accepted responsibility to provide a safe journey for all. He also had the unique ability to make us believe that each of us had become massage experts: The first proud moment…of our Lyon's Farm adventures.
I do not recall how long we were on the road (certainly more than two hours; at the time it seemed much longer) or the route we traveled. Though it must have been Route 99E, as that was the only direct highway to Salem and Albany, and then southeast onto Highway 34 to Lebanon. Today, that drive, on I5 to Albany, then Highway 34 to Lebanon, would take less than an hour-and-a-half; and the distance would be about 83 miles. Conditions have certainly changed.
Describing those wonderful Lyon's Farm adventures, I have taken the liberty of integrating my remembered experiences with forgotten events; gleaned from the Historic Lebanon Edition of the Lebanon Express.
The facilities, at Lyon's Farm, were both comfortable and stimulating. On a meadow, a large tent was erected, wherein it served as an assembly hall, a dining room and kitchen; and sleeping quarters for the girls (boys shared tents). The sides of the tent could be rolled up to brighten the interior of the hall; while wooden walls, about three or four feet high, gave a sense of being in a large room; plus offering some protection from the elements. I do not recall whether the floor was dirt or wooden. Nonetheless, I would venture to say, it was dirt.
To instill a sense of camaraderie and order, the days were always planned; and busy, starting with breakfast. At breakfast, and each meal of the day, we were assigned tasks; to help prepare the food, set the tables (picnic tables, actually), and the final clean-up. I remember each meal beginning with Mr. Lyon giving Thanks. I vividly remember sitting at the table, along with everyone else, verbally reciting Mr. Lyon's favorite adage. "Sit up straight…Through out your chest…That will take care of the rest…Two feet flat upon the floor…Sit up straight…Or there's the door." As each day went by, those words were recited with greater intensity and conviction. Slouches were not welcome! Take pride in yourself! To this day, I continue to receive compliments…for sitting up straight.
That adage was a true representation of Mr. Lyon. He was a proud, gentle man, possessing great stature and poise; with a demeanor that would put everyone at ease. To this day, Mr. Lyon has a special place in my mind, and heart.
In addition to Lyon's Farm communicating object lessons, and affording us the opportunity to learn from nature; there were gardens, horses, ponies, chickens, pigs, cattle, goats, rabbits, and an orchard. Therefrom, we were assigned chores, on a rotating basis, which gave each of us a personal "farm" experience to brag about; including riding the larger animals, when we returned to "the city." We also had a playground with swings, gym bars, and chin bars that we would use, whenever we had the opportunity. Thus, we were offered the chance to strengthen both body, and mind.
Most of those assigned chores were intended to help us accept responsibility, to appreciate the art of sharing, and to keep from getting into mischief. On the occasion when we did get into mischief, we were escorted out to the orchard, to sit alone under a nut tree. Was that particular tree chosen to tell us something? While there, alone, we could not talk to anyone; however, for amusement, we could pull grass. There would be times when an unfortunate offender would sit out there and pull grass for an hour, sometimes for several hours. I can also remember pulling grass, but there were always a number of us pulling grass at the same time. I had assumed it was the Lyon method for mowing the lawn.
At the end of each day, weather permitting, we would all gather around a bonfire to warm our bodies, and hearts. In that serene setting, we would discuss that day's activities, sing songs, talk about ourselves, and just get to know one another. The effects of companionship were beginning to emerge. We were on the threshold of personifying that person in The Big Brother Farm motto, "We Teach Our Boys To Be Kind." Of course, that motto was transposable for Girls, too.
One favorite activity was hiking to the top of Peterson Butte, located approximately 2 miles west of the Farm. With an elevation of 1,430 feet, its steep inclines, rocky soil, and uneven footing challenged us all. Nevertheless, when we reached the top, we enjoyed that great sense of accomplishment: We were on top of the world. After each of us had the chance to talk about the magnificent view, we set up camp, prepared for the night, and eagerly anticipated the chance to watch the sunrise over the lush valley, first thing the morning. Today, in addition to numerous hiking trails, Peterson Butte is a popular, controlled launch site for hang-gliding and paragliding.
After a few days of repeated trial and error, we mastered our daily chores. Achieving some freedom, we began to look forward to the weekend, especially Saturday. On that day, we boys (Mr. Lyon escorted the boys; separately, the girls were escorted by Mrs. Lyon) would march single file, two miles east to the South Santiam River. That march not only took us to the River where we could enjoy a refreshing swim; or dog paddle, as the case may be; it also gave us the opportunity take a bath, in preparation for Sunday.
Come Sunday morning, after breakfast, all of us (boys and girls) would put on our best clothes and proudly walk about a mile-and-a-half north to an imposing stone structure; the old Methodist Church (Mr. and Mrs. Lyon were members), on the southwest corner of East Vine and Park Streets, in downtown Lebanon. At that time, South Main Road was dirt and gravel, and not much wider than a log truck. I can remember our walking (there could have been 15 or 20 of us) single file down the middle of the road; then, when a car came along, we would have to move onto the shoulder of the road to make room for it to pass. Naturally, after that car went by, we all became dust collectors.
Thanks to the admiration and respect for Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, and their achievements, The Big Brother Farm was very popular, in and around Lebanon. Accordingly, to supplement the expenses of the Farm; the local people were more than generous in their support. In addition to offering cash contributions ($1 to $10), their donations included fruit, meat, fresh vegetables, and other food supplies, as well as clothes.
The integrity of Mr. Lyon, and the overwhelming success of The Big Brother Farm, was also well known in Portland's educational, civic, business, and philanthropic communities. Beyond their generous contributions, many afforded Mr. Lyon the opportunity to present the dream of "…a better vision of life" to his disadvantaged boys. I can remember the pride of being introduced to a bank president, in his plush office on one of the upper floors of a large bank, in downtown Portland. Following a brief description of his important job, he highlighted what can be attained from hard work, determination; and most importantly, a good education. Whether that meeting took place upon our return to Portland, or it had occurred later, I do not remember. Nevertheless, that occasion was very impressive.
After 30 generous years, Mr. Lyon's successful dream of "…taking boys (and girls) that were unfortunate in many ways…and giving them a new and better vision of life" came to an abrupt end. During the summer of 1942, it became apparent; he had cancer. Notwithstanding, he chose to spend his last days at "The Office" on The Big Brother Farm, where he died on November 26…Thanksgiving Day. He was only 54 years old.
Unable to carry on without him, Mrs. Lyon subsequently sold the Farm. Today, after having been sub-divided into residential developments, the only remaining evidence of The Big Brother Farm is Big Brother Lane (a short gravel lane connected to South Main Road) and Catherine' drinking fountain and arbor.
Of the thousands of disadvantaged boys who spent two exciting weeks at The Big Brother Farm, I have no idea as to how many would have come from our Volga German neighborhood; although, there undoubtedly must have been many. Moreover, I hope that I am not the only one to have the privilege of experiencing that wonderful adventure…TWO TIMES! Being there, and writing the story.
In addition to the aroma of fresh baked bread wafting past our house almost every day, the location of our home was fortuitous, in that their Retail Bakery Outlet, where we purchased day-old bread and pastries, was only a block away; on the south side of their building, at 103 North Ivy Street. Today, unattractive vacant lots have taken the place of both our house and the bakery. Subsequently, the Retail Bakery Outlet was renamed the Wonder Bread - Hostess Cake Thrift Store; and relocated at 115 North Cook Street on the Northeast corner of Cook Street and Vancouver Avenue. Today, that Thrift Store is no longer in operation.
Because of the reduced prices, the location of that Retail Bakery Outlet was a Godsend to many people in the Albina District. I can recall many a day when my Grandfather, Henry Koch, would leave early in the morning; walk 20 blocks from his home at 3963 Northeast 14th Avenue; and stock-up on baked goods, from that Retail Outlet. Often, if you were late getting there, the shelves with the best breads and pastries would be bare. That Retail Bakery Outlet was a very busy place.
The Great Depression was a difficult time for many families, including ours. Because of unfortunate circumstances (we were on Direct Relief and Food Stamps, at the time), I was considered a disadvantaged boy; which offered me the opportunity to spend two weeks at a summer camp, called Lyon's Farm. Although that wonderful experience took place many years ago, during the summer of either 1940 or 1941, many segments of those days are still vivid in my memory. However, it was not until I began writing this story that I became aware; the real name of Lyon's Farm (everyone called it; Lyon's Farm) was The Big Brother Farm.
It was located about a mile-and-a-half due South of Lebanon, on the ease side South Main Road. The Big Brother Farm was on a 20-acre tract of land that Mr. Chester A. Lyon had purchased in September of 1913. That purchase soon fulfilled his dream of "…taking boys that were unfortunate in many ways…and giving them a new and better vision of life." A concurrent dream was also fulfilled, when The Big Sister Farm was opened, in 1923.
I have often wondered how it came to be, that I was one of those selected to spend two weeks at Lyon's Farm. In addition to filling in many memory blanks, while reliving that summer adventure, I may have found the answer to that wonderment; after Ms. Carol Dinges, Director of the Lebanon Public Library, provided me with a copy of the March 28, 2007 Historic Lebanon Edition of the Lebanon Express.
The saga began, when Mr. Lyon established Oregon's first Foster Home; in a big house owned by the state, at 1522 Northeast Junior Street, in Portland (about 15 blocks west of Concordia College; today's Concordia University, The Center for Volga German Studies). Recognizing the success of that innovative Foster Home concept, Judge Jacob Kanzler, who, in 1919, presided over the newly formed Court of Domestic Relations; asked Chester to be his assistant. Upon accepting that position, Mr. Lyon, with the support of Judge Kanzler, expanded that Foster Home program and, therein "…found a new source of kids in unfortunate situations."
As to how I came to be chosen to participate in that adventure, an enlightening situation might have occurred. Besides Judge Kanzler helping new German-Russian immigrants settle in Portland, he was an active member of the Zion German Congregational Church (he also taught Sunday school). In addition to having been in the Confirmation Class of 1945, it just so happens that, I am related to one of the organizing members of that Church, Brother Conrad Helzer. He was my Grand Uncle. Whether or not that Helzer/Kanzler/Lyon connection is the origin of my being invited to Lyon's Farm, I do not know. Nevertheless, I certainly like to think so, because of the closeness of the Volga German neighborhood, during that era.
The excitement of that trip to Lyon's Farm is still vivid in my memory. However, I do not remember the make or year of the car, other than it was a four-door sedan, transporting six or seven of us unfortunates, with Mr. Lyon driving. As a diversion, during that long, tedious journey, we sang songs, he told stories; and talked with each of us, in an effort to establish a "spirit of unity." Most memorable, we each took turns massaging his neck and shoulder muscles. According to Mr. Lyon, it was our unselfish efforts that helped relieve the tension of his accepted responsibility to provide a safe journey for all. He also had the unique ability to make us believe that each of us had become massage experts: The first proud moment…of our Lyon's Farm adventures.
I do not recall how long we were on the road (certainly more than two hours; at the time it seemed much longer) or the route we traveled. Though it must have been Route 99E, as that was the only direct highway to Salem and Albany, and then southeast onto Highway 34 to Lebanon. Today, that drive, on I5 to Albany, then Highway 34 to Lebanon, would take less than an hour-and-a-half; and the distance would be about 83 miles. Conditions have certainly changed.
Describing those wonderful Lyon's Farm adventures, I have taken the liberty of integrating my remembered experiences with forgotten events; gleaned from the Historic Lebanon Edition of the Lebanon Express.
The facilities, at Lyon's Farm, were both comfortable and stimulating. On a meadow, a large tent was erected, wherein it served as an assembly hall, a dining room and kitchen; and sleeping quarters for the girls (boys shared tents). The sides of the tent could be rolled up to brighten the interior of the hall; while wooden walls, about three or four feet high, gave a sense of being in a large room; plus offering some protection from the elements. I do not recall whether the floor was dirt or wooden. Nonetheless, I would venture to say, it was dirt.
To instill a sense of camaraderie and order, the days were always planned; and busy, starting with breakfast. At breakfast, and each meal of the day, we were assigned tasks; to help prepare the food, set the tables (picnic tables, actually), and the final clean-up. I remember each meal beginning with Mr. Lyon giving Thanks. I vividly remember sitting at the table, along with everyone else, verbally reciting Mr. Lyon's favorite adage. "Sit up straight…Through out your chest…That will take care of the rest…Two feet flat upon the floor…Sit up straight…Or there's the door." As each day went by, those words were recited with greater intensity and conviction. Slouches were not welcome! Take pride in yourself! To this day, I continue to receive compliments…for sitting up straight.
That adage was a true representation of Mr. Lyon. He was a proud, gentle man, possessing great stature and poise; with a demeanor that would put everyone at ease. To this day, Mr. Lyon has a special place in my mind, and heart.
In addition to Lyon's Farm communicating object lessons, and affording us the opportunity to learn from nature; there were gardens, horses, ponies, chickens, pigs, cattle, goats, rabbits, and an orchard. Therefrom, we were assigned chores, on a rotating basis, which gave each of us a personal "farm" experience to brag about; including riding the larger animals, when we returned to "the city." We also had a playground with swings, gym bars, and chin bars that we would use, whenever we had the opportunity. Thus, we were offered the chance to strengthen both body, and mind.
Most of those assigned chores were intended to help us accept responsibility, to appreciate the art of sharing, and to keep from getting into mischief. On the occasion when we did get into mischief, we were escorted out to the orchard, to sit alone under a nut tree. Was that particular tree chosen to tell us something? While there, alone, we could not talk to anyone; however, for amusement, we could pull grass. There would be times when an unfortunate offender would sit out there and pull grass for an hour, sometimes for several hours. I can also remember pulling grass, but there were always a number of us pulling grass at the same time. I had assumed it was the Lyon method for mowing the lawn.
At the end of each day, weather permitting, we would all gather around a bonfire to warm our bodies, and hearts. In that serene setting, we would discuss that day's activities, sing songs, talk about ourselves, and just get to know one another. The effects of companionship were beginning to emerge. We were on the threshold of personifying that person in The Big Brother Farm motto, "We Teach Our Boys To Be Kind." Of course, that motto was transposable for Girls, too.
One favorite activity was hiking to the top of Peterson Butte, located approximately 2 miles west of the Farm. With an elevation of 1,430 feet, its steep inclines, rocky soil, and uneven footing challenged us all. Nevertheless, when we reached the top, we enjoyed that great sense of accomplishment: We were on top of the world. After each of us had the chance to talk about the magnificent view, we set up camp, prepared for the night, and eagerly anticipated the chance to watch the sunrise over the lush valley, first thing the morning. Today, in addition to numerous hiking trails, Peterson Butte is a popular, controlled launch site for hang-gliding and paragliding.
After a few days of repeated trial and error, we mastered our daily chores. Achieving some freedom, we began to look forward to the weekend, especially Saturday. On that day, we boys (Mr. Lyon escorted the boys; separately, the girls were escorted by Mrs. Lyon) would march single file, two miles east to the South Santiam River. That march not only took us to the River where we could enjoy a refreshing swim; or dog paddle, as the case may be; it also gave us the opportunity take a bath, in preparation for Sunday.
Come Sunday morning, after breakfast, all of us (boys and girls) would put on our best clothes and proudly walk about a mile-and-a-half north to an imposing stone structure; the old Methodist Church (Mr. and Mrs. Lyon were members), on the southwest corner of East Vine and Park Streets, in downtown Lebanon. At that time, South Main Road was dirt and gravel, and not much wider than a log truck. I can remember our walking (there could have been 15 or 20 of us) single file down the middle of the road; then, when a car came along, we would have to move onto the shoulder of the road to make room for it to pass. Naturally, after that car went by, we all became dust collectors.
Thanks to the admiration and respect for Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, and their achievements, The Big Brother Farm was very popular, in and around Lebanon. Accordingly, to supplement the expenses of the Farm; the local people were more than generous in their support. In addition to offering cash contributions ($1 to $10), their donations included fruit, meat, fresh vegetables, and other food supplies, as well as clothes.
The integrity of Mr. Lyon, and the overwhelming success of The Big Brother Farm, was also well known in Portland's educational, civic, business, and philanthropic communities. Beyond their generous contributions, many afforded Mr. Lyon the opportunity to present the dream of "…a better vision of life" to his disadvantaged boys. I can remember the pride of being introduced to a bank president, in his plush office on one of the upper floors of a large bank, in downtown Portland. Following a brief description of his important job, he highlighted what can be attained from hard work, determination; and most importantly, a good education. Whether that meeting took place upon our return to Portland, or it had occurred later, I do not remember. Nevertheless, that occasion was very impressive.
After 30 generous years, Mr. Lyon's successful dream of "…taking boys (and girls) that were unfortunate in many ways…and giving them a new and better vision of life" came to an abrupt end. During the summer of 1942, it became apparent; he had cancer. Notwithstanding, he chose to spend his last days at "The Office" on The Big Brother Farm, where he died on November 26…Thanksgiving Day. He was only 54 years old.
Unable to carry on without him, Mrs. Lyon subsequently sold the Farm. Today, after having been sub-divided into residential developments, the only remaining evidence of The Big Brother Farm is Big Brother Lane (a short gravel lane connected to South Main Road) and Catherine' drinking fountain and arbor.
Of the thousands of disadvantaged boys who spent two exciting weeks at The Big Brother Farm, I have no idea as to how many would have come from our Volga German neighborhood; although, there undoubtedly must have been many. Moreover, I hope that I am not the only one to have the privilege of experiencing that wonderful adventure…TWO TIMES! Being there, and writing the story.
Source
Contributed by Melvin W. Cook, January 3, 2013.
Last updated November 12, 2016