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Springfield farmer reminisces about the good ol' days
Maria Fontanazza | staff
editor
mfontanazza@smcvt.edu
In contrast to the frantic American lifestyle of rolling
out of bed and rushing to work, Marshall Dutton's day
starts at 4:45 a.m. He fixes the wood fire, eats breakfast,
picks up the Rutland Herald, and starts his daily bus
route.
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Marshall Dutton poses
with Judy (his tractor).
(Maria Fontanazza
photo)
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Born in Springfield, Vt., on
Aug. 30, 1926, Marshall Dutton has lived within two miles
of the same area his whole life, on property that has been
part of his family's farm since 1865. He lives on Dutton District,
named after his great-great-grandfather.
Keep on drivin'
"My grandmother started driving a horse and buggy in 1910,
so there's always been a school conveyance in this area,"
Dutton says. Dutton started driving a school bus when he was
15-years-old and has continued for 60 years. "I tried to enlist
in the army a few different times, but they kept telling me
I was needed on the farm. During the war years, they needed
a lot of extra help."
"Marshall
drove for 50 years without missing a day," Dutton's
friend and former classmate Bob Barlow says. He says
he wonders if that amount of time is a national record.
Barlow and Dutton graduated from Springfield High School
in 1945 and have driven buses together for over 30 years.
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Marshall Dutton and
his bus, #13
(Photo courtesy of Betty Dutton)
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"Marshall has always been able
to deal with children," Barlow says. "He doesn't get upset
easily."
Ernest Lamphere, chief of the Springfield Fire Department,
has tried to contact the Guinness Book of World Records to
see if Dutton's consecutive bus driving is a record.
"He's an icon (in Springfield)," Lamphere says. "He's a fixture
in the school district. Talk about having PR for a school
district -- he's it."
Parents can relax when Marshall
Dutton's at the wheel.
(Photo courtesy of Betty Dutton) |
Dutton also won't let boys get on the bus with their
hats on backwards.
"Here's a man who not only takes the job seriously,
but he's a friend to all," Lamphere says. "He could
help a child who was too scared to go to school, and
the bully -- he could calm him down and make him realize
there's something more in the world than fighting."
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"I treat them like my own children
and grandchildren," says Dutton. The first school bus he ever
drove sits in his backyard.
The children on the bus look up to him and still remember
him when they get older, says Marshall's wife, Betty, adding
that her husband has nicknames for many of the children.
Dutton
met his wife Betty, whom he calls "Little Red Hen" about
56 years ago.
"We were spliced Aug. 19, 1950, so we've had 52 seasons,"
Dutton says, describing their history. The couple also
has three children. |
Marshall and Betty Dutton share an afternoon chat.
(Maria Fontanazza photo)
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Marshall Dutton (left) and Betty (right) around 1950
(Photo courtesy of Betty Dutton) |
"Marshall is a very calm
person," says Betty Dutton. "He sort of calms me down
once in a while."
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The couple before
they were married in 1947
(Photo courtesy of Betty Dutton)
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Way back when
The oldest of six children, Dutton woke up at 3:30 every
morning to milk the cows on the family's Mount Ephraim Jersey
Farm, named after the highest point in Springfield. Upon
arriving home from school, he would hike a mile up Mount
Ephraim with his sister to "fetch" the cows. After completing
all the chores and finishing their homework (which their
mother always helped them with), the children were in bed
around 8 p.m.
"It's hard work, but it's fun," Dutton says. At one
point the farm was comprised of 165 acres, most of which
were on wood lots.
"Mother also helped in the field and drove the horses
when needed. She never did get on the tractor," he says,
laughing. |
The Dutton Homestead between
the late 1960s and early 1970s
(Photo courtesy of Marshall and Betty Dutton) |
When Dutton was a teenager, more
cows brought more work. The farm evolved from using horses
to modern machinery, which the family repaired themselves.
When they grew older, Dutton and his brother worked on cars
and tractors to earn extra money.
The family relied on the farm for sustenance, but sometimes
indulged in different foods.
"Once in a while for a treat, we'd get some hot dogs," Dutton
says.
Selling the farm
"We couldn't get dependable labor," Dutton says . "So, we
modernized to the point where one of us could pretty much
do the haying all alone, while the other two did the milking."
An aerial view of the Dutton
Homestead
(Photo courtesy of Marshall and Betty Dutton)
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Dutton, his brother and
brother-in-law operated the dairy farm until it was
sold in 1989. He says Springfield once had 30 dairy
farms; now it's down to about three. |
"It was a very sad thing to have
to sell our cows," Dutton says. "Each cow had an individual
name, her own stall. You could go out in the field anywhere,
and go up to any one of them, put your arm around her neck,
pat her and call her by name. It was sad when the auctioneer
came, and they went off in trucks."
Changing times
"A lot of people move up from the city because they
get overcrowded," Dutton says about the increasing development
in the state. "They move to Vermont, and they want to bring
their city ways with them, and of course the locals don't
like that, but there's not really much they can do about
it."
Dutton says many Vermonters don't have enough money to run
for office, and are pushed out of the legislature as a result.
"Wal-Marts, Kmarts -- they all come in, owned by big corporations
that don't even live here," Dutton says. "They hire the
locals at the cheapest rate possible and prices of goods
are so high that the two people have to work in a family
to make ends meet."
Dutton also feels that Vermont has become a tourist state.
"A lot of people don't know where their food comes from,"
he says. "Some industries moved in, and better land has
been taken up for shopping malls and big stores. Once you
pave it over, that land is gone.
"Some people complain that they don't like to see people
cut trees, but the forest is like a garden -- it needs weeding
and caring for," Dutton says. "The trees will always keep
growing."
A
one-of-a-kind guy
"He's a tremendous man --one of a kind," Lamphere says.
"He's charismatic."
At the age of 76, Marshall Dutton still cuts his own
wood, helps his neighbors, goes camping and, of course,
has his "honey-do" chores to do for "Little Red Hen."
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Marshall Dutton gets ready to take Judy for a ride.
(Maria Fontanazza photo) |
"I don't loaf around much," Dutton
says, who also enjoys working on old cars, restoring tractors
and occasionally displaying them in shows. "I'd rather work
than most anything else."
"He's a great friend, and a sincere and true person," Barlow
says. "He'd give you the shirt off his back." |