Drew Brannon

Partial Transcript: I am Drew Brannon. I have a farm that's been in my family since 1855. It belonged to my great-grandfather. The location is on the French Broad River. In fact, we own the north side of the horseshoe. I live in—my address is Horseshoe, North Carolina—and on the north side of the horseshoe. Both sides of my family are deep-rooted in the history of Henderson County. My mother was a Love and a Love—there was five Love brothers that were in the Civil War. Matthew Love was the highest-ranking officer out of Henderson County in the Civil War, and he's a brother. George Love is my great-grandfather. And also go deep in the history, William Brannon was my fifth grandfather back, and he was in the Battle of Cowpens And also it was interesting that my good friend, Theren Bagan's, fifth grandfather was also in the Battle of Cowpens, so we have that in common.

Partial Transcript: Oh, yeah, very much so. The relatives—the Brannons—fifth William Brannon and then my great-grandfather, Richard Brannon, he was also in the Civil War. He came to Henderson County in 1840. And then, to go up to modern day, my cousin, Kathy, is married to Jim Tommy Franks, the four-star general that led the invasion of Afghanistan after 9/11, and I've been to Hobart, Oklahoma, where he now lives. He has a ranch in Hobart called Four Stars because he's a four-star general. So I have a continuous background of service through this time.

Partial Transcript: Well, it was a hard—my great-grandfather and my grandfather—it was a hard way of living. Everything was self-sustained. They had hogs for meat and cattle for milk and butchered beef. And so it was a very—it was a hard time, but my ancestors had something to eat. They was very blessed. They had a garden, and they canned food for the winter. There wasn't a lot of money back in those days, but my ancestors, both sides of my family, because of the self-sustained farms, they had enough to eat. And it was—that's the way everybody did back in those days. Neighbors helped neighbors. If you had a problem, you could count on your neighbors to help you in situations. It was a very satisfying life in some ways because there wasn't a lot of external pressure. It was more—people got along, and neighbor would help neighbor. It was a very—less stressful time, I think.

Partial Transcript: Well, my grandfather, Pierce Brannon, started the first dairy in Henderson County, and they would get up say at five o'clock in the morning and go milk the cows and then had a cooler they'd put the milk in to cool it. They decided they could make some money by a cheese factory, so at Horseshoe, he was one of the leaders, among other dairy farmers, that formed a cheese factory. It was right off 64 there in Horseshoe. And then you'd have the planting of the corn. You had to break the fields up, plow. All the work was done with horses until into the 1950s when we got our first tractor. One time, my grandfather—he was very religious and he wouldn't work on Sunday, but at midnight—a little after midnight or first daybreak, he got his horse and started plowing. We called it twelve-acre bottom. By the end of the day—by starting that early at daybreak, he was able to get the whole field plowed within one day. Horses did the majority of the work. Do everything—a lot of manual labor, very intense labor, picking the beans and putting in—killing the hogs. That was an adventure back in those days. Now you just go to the grocery store and get your groceries. Back then you'd have a hog—it'd be time to kill your hog, and then you'd have to put it in a vat and get all the hair off of it. And then you'd have to butcher it up and have to cut it up, and you'd have different sections. You'd have lard. Then you'd have pork loins, and you'd have pork chops and ham. We had a smokehouse which was used to cure the ham and the meat. You'd use hickory wood, and you would smoke the ham. To this day, there's nothing better than country ham to me.

Partial Transcript: Well, we first had corn for the livestock. We'd have to row corn, and it would be used to shell. Then you'd have the fodder that you could bed with or feed. And also beans—we grew some beans. If you grew enough, you could sell some, but we always had enough—made sure we had enough for the canning in preparation for the winter. If we had excess, we'd sell the beans. They tried to row crop with lespedeza or something, clover, instead of just continuous with corn before they had all this intense fertilizing. Back in the fifties and forties, they'd grow a cover crop, and the cover crop would help fertilize the next crop. They had rotation. They'd rotate clover, corn, lespedeza and different crops for different years, and it maintained the fertility of the soil.

Partial Transcript: The milk was sold—we had a—we bottled some of our own milk at that time, first. Then we also started selling a Guernsey—we had one of the first Guernsey herds in Henderson County, and it was called Golden Guernsey. My grandfather went to South Carolina with a county agent and brought the first registered Guernsey back into Henderson County back in the twenties. If you had Golden Guernsey milk, it was a special brand, and you could only have Guernseys in your herd. If you had any other kind of a cow, even one cow, they'd disqualify you. So to go under the Golden Guernsey, you had to be certified, and so we were certified for that time. Then later on, it became more profitable to go with more volume, so we got out of the Guernsey and went to Holsteins. But that was later on because Holsteins produce so much more volume of milk. And they weren't paying as much for the Guernsey later on.

Interviewer
00:10:20 What made the Golden Guernsey milk special?

Drew Brannon
It was such a beautiful color—golden color, and it was—people prized it for the—before you homogenized milk—that was before then—you'd get a cream—the butter on top of the milk, and people would use it for butter. It was just a special—it was just branded under a special name, Golden Guernsey.

Interviewer
00:10:45 How did they keep the milk cool before there was commercial ice factories and stuff like that?

Drew Brannon
Well, it was basically the spring. People had a spring they could put their milk in. Later on, they would have coolers, like water coolers, that they'd basically—they had to put ice in some of them to start with, and then later on, they—back in the forties they got electricity, and then we could cool it with electricity. We had one of the first electric milkers in Henderson County back in the forties when we got power, because they didn't get power into the county until the forties. And when they got power, then my dad and my grandfather bought electric milkers. In the old days, you could only milk like five to ten cows twice a day, and when you got your electric milkers, you could bump it on up to twenty-five to thirty and have more volume of milk. But it was a struggle to milk them by hand. A lot of people just had a family cow—some of my neighbors. They'd just have one cow for the family and milk it and use it. But if you had a commercial dairy, then you would have more volume of cattle.

Interviewer
00:12:02 And where was the milk sold?

Drew Brannon
We sold to Biltmore Dairies for a while. They were very—Mr. Vanderbilt wanted to be self-sustained, so the Biltmore farm was—had a lot of dairies. He had such a good brand—the Biltmore brand was so well-known that he needed extra milk, so he went around to the different dairies and had a processing plant over there in Biltmore. And it—we went a long time with that. And then eventually his grandson, George Cecil, decided he could make more money with wine, so he went in the wine business and got out of the dairy business. But George approached me and wanted to know if I'd take the Jerseys that they had. George Vanderbilt went to the Isle of Jersey and bought and wanted to know if I could bring them on my farm. But at that time, we'd gone into the Holstein business, and I didn't have as much space. So I couldn't—the Holsteins were so much larger that I couldn't mix them. So I couldn't do it, but George—I was very humbled by George Cecil wanting to know if I would take care of them. But I had a friend named S.A. Johnson that had room. And I called S.A. Johnson about it, and he took those Jerseys. And they're in Mills River right now. They're one of only two dairies left in Henderson County. Mike Corn took them over from George Cecil, and he takes care of them. Mr. Cecil now just turned ninety-one, the grandson of George Vanderbilt, and he still comes around and checks on his cattle at times.

Partial Transcript: Back in the 1950s, there were approximately as many as a hundred. Every little area all over Henderson County had a little dairy, and now, like I say, it's kept thinning down and thinning down. We have two. One is on—they're both on Jeffreys Road. Tap Root Dairy is the biggest. They milk about a thousand cows twice or three times a day. And then the Jerseys that Mike Corn has. So there's only two dairies left in Henderson County from a hundred.

Interviewer
00:14:20 When the Biltmore dairy closed down, what did that do to your milking operation in terms of sourcing it?

Drew Brannon
Well, we had to find a new—somebody to sell it to, so we went to Dairymen Incorporated. We just—it didn't really hurt our operations, but it—we just had to find a new—someone to buy our milk. We stayed in the business until 1993, I believe. My dad and I owned the dairy farm, and we just decided we'd get out of the dairy business. So we sold all the cattle and our equipment, and I kept my land. I lease my farm out now to different farmers, but I retain all the land. It belonged to my great-grandfather.

Interviewer
00:15:12 Did any of that milk get to the local stores in Hendersonville?

Drew Brannon
Ingles. Ingles is a big buyer of the milk—local milk, and I'm sure it went Food Lion—some of their grocery stores in Henderson County. But they have to—since there's only two dairies left in Henderson County, they've got to get other sources now to bring the milk from other areas into the stores in Henderson County.

Partial Transcript: Just an example of how neighbors worked with other neighbors is, back when I was real little, my dad got real sick, and he couldn't milk the cows for two or three days. So my neighbor, Leonard Wingo, came down and just—as neighbors often did back in those days—used to come down and milk the cows for about three days until daddy got well. And if you were putting up hay and your neighbor needed you, he would just come over and help you put up your hay. First you had the stacks—the big haystacks. That was the first way. You just pitchforked them on top of each other on a pole. Then you went to the square bales, and it'd take a lot of people to put up those square bales. Then you'd stack them in the barn. Then they went to the round bales. Most people do the round bales. It's less labor intense. You've got these huge, big bales that weigh 750, 1000 pounds. You take a front-end loader and pick them up, and you stack them. So there's a lot less labor involved with round bales than the square bales.

Partial Transcript: The corn shucking was a thing—that was really—they'd have the shucks on the corn, and they'd have—your neighbor would say, "We're going to have a corn shucking." And all the neighbors from all around would come around. They'd take the shucks off the corn and put it in a pile and pile all the shucked corn in one and the stalks and the shucks in the other. And it was kind of a neighbor get-together, and everybody would pitch in. It was a lot of fun. It was like a very social thing. People would work together, and it was just—made a good community.

Interviewer
00:17:48 Anybody play music at the end of it?

Drew Brannon
I wasn't there for that part of it. I didn't remember that, but I'm sure they did. I just wasn't—

Partial Transcript: Yeah, I don't—in the old days, it was easier to make moonshine out of the corn than it was to carry out of the mountain, so some people would have a still. There were stills all over Henderson County that produced moonshine. The moonshiners were pretty shifty, and the Revenuers was always trying to catch them. One time, when I was a small boy, I looked across the pasture over there on the hills, and I saw somebody running like a horse. Had long legs and just galloping along. I asked daddy what was going on, and he said, "That's Bill. The Revenuers are after him." But we never did have any, but it was—I'm sure there was moonshine on the property.

Partial Transcript: Yeah, I'm a lifetime resident. I started helping my father at the dairy as soon as I was able to. I remember when I was about three or four I'd go to the barn with him and—we had a stanchion barn. You'd have to put the feed in front of the cows, and the one that was giving the most milk you had to scoop. The cows that was giving the most milk would get a full scoop, and then the ones that was giving less—and you had to learn which one's which—and a cow—we'd call them dry when they'd—when they're lactating, you turn them dry about two months before they have a calf so they can rest their bodies so they can have a very good calf. And you'd give them just a little bit of dry. I learned that, and I learned—I never really had to do as much work with the horses as my dad because I was real small. By the time I got big enough to do a lot of the work on the farm, we'd gotten one tractor, an Oliver. But that was all the work. I remember riding in the wagon with daddy. We'd go in the fields and pick up rocks out of the pastures, and—it was just—it was hard, but it was fun. And the horses—they would react to—one time it was my birthday, and they were having a—they were working the horses in the field. And daddy says, since it was my birthday, he'd let me ride in the wagon with him. So he brought me back to the barn, and you'd put the horses up and feed them so they'd be ready for the next day. You had to learn to harness them and work with them. So it was—you did everything with horses. You cut the hay. You stacked it early, but then when we got tractors, we started using the tractors to do the farm work.

Interviewer
00:21:01 What was one of your fondest memories growing up as a kid in this area?

Drew Brannon
It was just the—the cattle. You work with cattle and try to feed them, and you work really hard to have really good stock and take good care of them. And I really worked hard learning which bulls to use with artificial insemination back in those days. We had a sale, and we had a very successful sale because we'd use really good bulls and had one of the best herds in North Carolina. And we had a group from Walnut Grove, South Carolina, came, and they auctioned off our cows. And people from eight states bought them. So it was very humbling, and that's one of my most rewarding experiences, to do a good job and have people appreciate you for doing a good job. But I was really concerned—it was in January when we had our big sale, and you always worry about snow and nobody would be there—the people from eight states wouldn't be there to buy them. So I was really worried, but it turned out—we did have snow, but people showed up. It was unbelievable. I'll never forget the enjoyment of having people come up and say, "You sure got a good herd of cows, and you do a good job of taking care of them." We had records on them. We had so many good cattle, so I was very happy.

Partial Transcript: I was very blessed. I worked on the farm, but my daddy would let me play sports. Some of my good friends, they had to work—when they got off the school bus, they had to start working instead of letting them play sports. But I got to play baseball. I played baseball at Mills River High School for four years. I was very fortunate as a freshman. I walked on, and nobody played for four years except me. And then basketball, I got started as a sophomore. You make lasting friendships, and I went to a very small Mills River—it was Mills River High School. I was the last graduating class from Mills River, and we had thirty-six in my graduating class. Some of those students I'd been in the same class for twelve years, from first grade through the twelfth, and I retained those as lifetime friends. I've still got friends that I went to high school with, and I really treasure my friends.

Interviewer
00:23:33 How'd you get to school?

Drew Brannon
We had a school bus. It would come down and pick us up and take us to school. Back in those days, my teacher was Mr. Pryor, and they didn't—he had to do two or three to make a living. So he'd drive the school bus, and he was a coach. So he was my bus driver. Mr. Pryor was my teacher and my bus driver. We didn't have too many mishaps. Back in Mills River 1936, it snowed so hard they got snowed in. We had some bad snows, but I never got snowed in at Mills River. I was there from 1948 through 1960. But it was—the teachers were the same teachers year after year. It's just a small community, and you knew everybody growing up in Mills River. I was very fortunate to come back to Mills River as a teacher after I graduated, and I had a lot of real good friends whose children I taught. And it was a blessing to have the support of the community when I taught school.

Partial Transcript: Well, I joined the church when I was eight years old at Cummings Memorial Methodist Church. It was a Horseshoe Methodist, and Dr. Cummings gave for our new worship—for our new church, so we named it after him in 1956. But I was—I'm a lifetime member. That's where I still go to church. And I remember mother was a Sunday School superintendant and would—Sunday School classes, Bible schools in the summertime. You became real close to your Sunday School teachers, and the preachers would remember a lot of the—preachers were very influential in my life. One of them was a lifetime—Mr. Thomas—he came in the fifties—sixties. Then he came back in the eighties. He and his wife were outstanding, and they were just like my parents as far as helping—I was very close to them.

Interviewer
00:25:59 In times of need, when people were struggling with different issues, did the church play some kind of role in terms of social services and stuff?

Drew Brannon
Yeah, back in those days before Social Services, the church was the main provider of service for the needy. So we had fruit baskets, and if there was a family in need, we could go around and provide services what the families needed. And that was the main source of help to a lot of those people back in those days. We really did a lot to help those people and also internationally. My mother started funding for a Methodist church in Korea. We helped build a church in Korea. It's one of the fastest—in Korea, Methodism is growing faster than any country in the world is what I was told. So hopefully we contributed to the advancement of church services for the country of Korea, so that's great.

Partial Transcript: Well, everything's so mechanized and computerized, and farming today—you've got an air-conditioned Ford tractor you ride in. And your fertilizing line and all are computerized. You can take a crop that you've raised now, and you can tell—it has a tag—if you put it through a grading process, you can tell exactly what field that tomato came from or cucumber or pepper. You just miss the openness of the farming, working with the soil more than you do now. It was more of a—instead of computers, you had to use common sense, and I miss—I've always been a very common-sense kind of person in trying to do what's right and use common sense to determine instead of having a computer. But computers are so much more efficient everybody has gone to them, so that's the way of the times now. But I miss the association and common sense and working with the soil and cattle.

Interviewer
00:29:02 Do you think we've lost anything in agriculture as a result of all these technological changes?

Drew Brannon
Well, what we've lost are the family farms. A family farm cannot compete with the corporations as far as profitability. The scope and size are what's changed about the camaraderie and the helping neighbors and all. It's just a business—so much more business and computerized.

Interviewer
00:29:41 Does that affect the quality of the food too?

Drew Brannon
Well, I've always thought the best food in the world are your own garden. If you can grow a garden and get tomatoes and potatoes, pepper, onions out of a garden, it's the best-tasting food in the world. And as far as the computerized and big, huge operations, you don't have the same, probably, quality, but a small family farm cannot produce enough except for their own use much anymore.

Partial Transcript: Well, the environmentalists or whatever—farmers were the first environmentalists. As a farmer, if I didn't take good care of my land, prevent soil erosion, and adequate moisture to produce my crops, then I would not stay in business. The sad thing is some people have abused that privilege and don't take care of their land and protect the water. I'm chairman of the Henderson County Water District, and I've been in this organization for forty-three years. And I can honestly say I've tried my best to help landowners and farmers protect their soil and keep water clean. We've done hundreds of landowners' and farmers' projects to help them preserve these. So I've been very proactive in this trying to help all I can.

Interviewer
00:31:40 Do you see the relationship being different among the local family farmers to the larger companies? Even people who are from that are now owning a much larger facility. Do you see that relationship and stewardship and the concern about its effect on the land different?

Drew Brannon
One of the problems is the farmers don't have a 401K or retirement, and a lot of the farmers have had to sell their land for their retirement. And this has put a strain on agriculture in Henderson County. We try to keep as much in agriculture as we can. But it's hard to say anything if somebody wants to sell their land for their retirement, and it's being gobbled up by larger farmers because—where they'll be a few family farms not as one person farming all that land. You lose some of your heritage when you lose your land.

Partial Transcript: The 1916 flood was the worst flood in the history of western North Carolina. It was so devastating that it took lives and livestock, and my grandfather said—my dad—he was just a boy back then. I own land on the French Broad River, and they could see chicken coops going down and chickens. And livestock and stuff were just flooding down the river. And on my farm—my grandfather and dad owned it then—there was a branch out of the French Broad River, and the branch crossed the road. The only time in history it's ever crossed this road, so we were isolated. It split our farm, so you couldn't just go to the road. It's a long way away from the river. And also my grandfather had stacked some grain at the river. He used to stack it and then come back and get it and thresh it. But every bit of his grain was washed down the river, and then after that, daddy said he never put any at the river again. He always made my dad and uncle put the grain way on the hill, so we never got—but it was such a monster flood, and it stayed over Henderson County for two or three, four days. It just—some fronts just met and stopped and just kept pouring rain, rain, rain. It affected our farm. My grandfather—they lost the revenue from the grain, and they lost the soil. Some of it was washed away, and it was—it created a real hardship for the Brannon family at that time.

Interviewer
00:35:21 How did it affect other people in the neighborhood?

Drew Brannon
They were in the same situation. Further on down the river, they had livestock and buildings—they were all washed away. It went all the way into Hendersonville, and it did a lot of damage and loss of life in Hendersonville and on down toward Bat Cave. It was such a monster flood, and to this day, it's still remembered. If you have something that tragic, old-timers will tell you how bad it was. Revenue—loss of human life was most tragic—livestock and buildings and barns—it was just a terrible time.

Partial Transcript: The only—just the one about the grain being washed away and standing at the edge of the road. They couldn't get across the road because it was flooded, and they had to go around. Until the water went down, they had to go—to get to the other half of the farm, they had to go way around the hill above the farm. But it was just—that's about all.

Interviewer
00:36:52 How did your family recover?

Drew Brannon
Well, they just—they always—if you're a farmer, if you have a bad year, you always say, "Next year will be better." So they just had to recover—replant for 1917 and replant crops and try to make the best of it, even though they'd had a hardship money-wise. Back in those days, there really wasn't a lot of money. Our farm was self-sustaining, and the money—we had to have money to get seed to plant the corn, and we grow the hogs for meat and beef and had the horses for the work. Even though there wasn't much money, you had—could eat and that's just the way it was. My grandmother was a real kind person, and if people would come by, they'd offer to work for food, a dollar a day, or whatever. There wasn't no money, so we could get labor to help on the farm by just giving them food. But that was—I hope we never get another flood like 1916.

Interviewer
00:38:13 Did you rely on—your family rely on the food that they had canned in order to get by?

Drew Brannon
Yeah, my grandmother was a very industrious person. They would can the food, and then in the smokehouse, they'd have the pork in the smokehouse. They'd have hickory-smoked ham and shoulders they'd salt down, and so we had that. And then they'd can—the lard they'd put in jars for grease for the cooking oil. Beans—they canned beans. The green beans—they'd can them. So they depended on canning for food.

Partial Transcript: Well, I—based on neighbors would help neighbors if there's a hardship from the 1916 flood, if you saw your neighbor needed something, you'd go over and help. Barns had to be rebuilt. Pens where they had the hogs and the chicken coops had to be rebuilt. So if they had a need, then they would help them.

Partial Transcript: Well, from the 1916 flood, there's a flood ordinance in Henderson County now, but they used to didn't have one. And if people could relate back to the '16 flood, they wouldn't build in the flood plain. But before the ordinance, if they came from another area and saw a piece of property and the river looked like it was a mile away and people didn't tell them it was in the flood plain, they would build a house and then you'd get a flood, not as bad as 1916 but similar. It would just flood their house, and they'd lose it. And what you need to learn from the 1916 flood is don't take anything for granted. Always try to do your homework on location of any kind of a property, buildings or barns or anything, because it could happen again. That's what we've learned.

Partial Transcript: If a flood like 1916 happened today with the same intensity and the same amount of water, it'd be a lot more flooding because the houses have been built, the paved surfaces—they've paved a lot of the land. And also it'd be devastating to some people—there are houses in Henderson County that would be flooded out terribly because they were built in the flood plain. And barns and businesses would be flooded, and it would be a lot worse than it would in 1916 if the same occurrences. Hopefully, people will be more careful on where they put their structures.

Interviewer
00:41:47 Of course, one of the consequences of that flood and the 2004 flood were the mudslides and the landslides. I think there was at least three hundred landslides in 1916. In 2004, they said there was over four hundred landslides. And in both cases, people died, and thousands of homes were damaged or destroyed. People didn't live on the side of the mountains in 1916, but today so many of these subdivisions, including this one, are up on the side of the mountain. So there are all these steep slopes and not any rules that guide people who come in from—you know, people come from somewhere else and say, "Oh, what a beautiful view," but don't understand there's a cost to that view.

Drew Brannon
Yeah, my dad—we'd ride around with my dad, and he said, "Drew, if you look at the side of the mountains, if we had a flood like 1916, those houses would be sliding off the mountain," because they've built houses—they're beautiful views and everything, but they're not solid for a continuous amount of water. And they would—there's numerous houses in Henderson County that would just come sliding down with mudslides.

Partial Transcript: Well, Henderson County, several years back, passed the Flood Plain Ordinance, which requires that, if a seller is going to sell land to a prospective buyer, if it's in the flood plain, they are required to report it's in the flood plain. Actions like that can help protect, and if a new prospective buyer will go around and talk to the neighbors, especially the old-timers, he can find out more about how possibly the land he's looking at might flood because people who have lived here for years know the land, pretty much, it'll flood.

Partial Transcript: I just remember how sad dad was telling me about my grandfather's lack of plan or whatever that he let all his crop go down the river, and he was just sad for the loss of material. But he said, since we didn't lose life—he was grateful we didn't have any loss of life, and we could rebuild and go on. The thing I took from is even in the darkest hour you've got to work for—the farmer always looks forward to next year. If he has a terrible year—I've heard my dad say, "Drew, it'll be better next year." So you must be an optimist to be a farmer.

Partial Transcript: Well, I think one of the things that children today—when I grew up, I had responsibilities. In the morning sometimes I'd have to go feed the cattle, and in the afternoons I had responsibility. The children today, since they don't have the connection to the land and all that, they lose accountability. I knew if I didn't feed the cattle or the hogs or whatever was necessary—the chores—I had certain chores I had to do, and there'd be a consequence if I didn't do them. Now the children don't—they seem like they're not held accountable. They don't hold themselves accountable for anything, and they should develop a sense of responsibility and pride in doing work. The computer age—they play computers when they get off the bus until they go eat supper and then play again, a lot of them, and that's the sign of the times.

Interviewer
00:46:47 What do you think our kids are losing that they don't have those connections and those responsibilities?

Drew Brannon
I think they're losing the sense of pride in doing something, accomplishing things, and disciplining themselves to do the job. If you're on a job like putting up hay or milking the cows, you don't have a clock. You don't say, "Five o'clock, I'm going home." You stay there until you get the job done, and if you do a good job, you have a sense of pride and responsibility. It teaches children to appreciate things more.

Partial Transcript: Well, the thing—most—I mean, some children you ask them where they get their milk, and they get it from Ingles. They don't have any idea what it takes to produce milk, pork, beef. They just think you go to the store and get it out of the freezer. And if they knew what it takes to produce food, they'd develop a more appreciation than if they—I don't know how many people that they could sustain themselves if they had a garden to plant their crops, harvest their crops, plant the seed, harvest, cattle—take care of the cattle—none of them could know how to butcher a hog or beef. I mean, 99 percent of them couldn't do that. They've lost self-reliance. They have to depend on somebody else for their food and for—if we had a catastrophe and people had to grow their own food to live, what would happen?

Interviewer
00:49:01 They'd be much more vulnerable than they were back then.

Drew Brannon
Yeah, that's true. Because back in those days, most of the people lived on farms. It was—back in the late 1800s and 1900s it was—the country was predominantly rural, and people made their living farming. But now it's about 99 percent less rural. I mean, just one out of every hundred are farmers now, or less, I think.

Partial Transcript: One of my teachers was my agriculture teacher, and he was very influential in my life. One of the things he says is, if you're going to learn, learn from successful people and try to do things right the first time and how to work with people and to successfully manage your farm. You got to do the whole thing. A farmer is not just a—just do one thing. You've got to be a veterinarian. You've got to be a mechanic. You've got to be able to plant seeds. You've got to be able to drive a tractor. You've got—it was very important for me to be very diversified and be able to do a lot of things. I could do almost everything a veterinarian could do on the farm except specialized surgeries where they had to have the special instruments. I could give shots and take care of my animals. I knew when they was sick and had medicine and could take care of—because if a farmer had to hire somebody to do all that, he'd go broke. You need to be very self-reliant. So I guess self-reliance and ability to work with people and to treat people right are the most important lessons I learned from growing up on the farm.

Interviewer
00:51:05 What do you think that people can do today, whether they're young kids or just a family living the suburban lifestyle of always dependent on Wal-Mart and Cisco trucks and all that—what lessons do you think your life could teach them?

Drew Brannon
Well, I was a teacher for twelve years, and I always tried to get my students to be respectful and helping others and have good manners. If you do some of those things, you'll be a more successful person because people will have respect for people that show respect. And try to help others. Always put others—I never would let my people that work for me do something that I wouldn't do. I always tried to put myself in their shoes—the people that worked for me—and treat them right. And if you treat people right, you'll make a lot of friends and help a lot of people.

Partial Transcript: It's important to remember history because, if we don't, we're doomed to repeat the same mistakes. If we can't learn from history some of the really important lessons, we're doomed to repeat the same mistake. And if you do remember what has happened and you can take precautions like the 1916 flood—if we can now take precautions—if this was to happen in 2016, the same, a hundred years later, what did we learn from 1916 that can enable us not to have as much a loss? If we can learn, then we'll be better prepared and better people.