Granddad on the barn rafters

One of my very earliest memories in life is a mental picture of my granddad high on the uncovered rafters of our new farm barn.

As children, big things we see look really big, and high things look really high! To me, suddenly seeing my granddad perched high in the sky not only took my breath away; it left me with an awe and wonderment that my own grandfather could do daring and challenging things. My granddad, Scott Nichols, was a quiet man, not given to stunts or excitements; but he really gripped my attention that day. He was nailing the cross strips onto the bare rafters of the new barn, making ready for the sheet iron roof which would go on next. I was amazed at his bravery as he nailed down each board, moving up the rafters like a ladder into the sky.

Some months ago, I mentioned this memory to my dad, and he filled in more of the story for me. The new barn was very much a family and neighbor project, including help from Mr. J.P.G. Rouhlac.

Mr. Rouhlac was a school teacher and principal, and an excellent builder. He had designed and overseen the construction of the landmark Pea Ridge School building which stood downtown in Pea Ridge from 1930 until 2005. Mr. Rouhlac knew how to put together a sturdy and lasting structure. At least two barns of his design are still in service today, this one on our home farm, and one east of Pea Ridge on the Martha Ruth Hall farm.

Dad tells me that the task of raising the high rafters required several men, and that not only my granddad, but several friends from the Shady Grove community were brought in to help. Those rafter trusses, like a great set of ribs high in the air, made a spectacular sight. I was much too young to help, but I could watch and imagine myself someday building a barn as the men were doing. Dad said that after the rafters were positioned and braced in place, he took the other men home, planning to take up work on the barn roof later in the day.

When he arrived home, he discovered that his dad had not waited for him, but had been nailing on the cross strips and climbing them like a ladder. He must have spotted Granddad at the peak of the rafters about the same time I was seeing him from the ground below. I was imagining myself as a barn-builder someday, but was shaken at the thought of working so high up as Grandpa was. My dad didn’t say much at the time, but evidently he, too, was a little shaken on finding his dad at the peak of the rafters, by himself, with no safety rope.

In those days, during World War II, rarely would you hire a contractor to build a farm building for you. More likely, you would build it yourself, with help from your family and neighbors. Especially on the farm, people didn’t have much money then, but they might have trees from which to saw lumber, neighbors with sawmills to size the planks, and friends and granddads and Mr. Rouhlacs who could bring together skills and savvy.

When I think of how I grew up among those skilled workers, watching and learning from them and, later, helping them as I was able, I have come to feel that it was a pretty privileged way of growing up. So many young people today never really see their folks at work, don’t get to observe the skills and teamwork that go into making a living, can’t observe people functioning in the work-a-day world, and often don’t get to experience the satisfactions of seeing structures taking shape, or of survival and progress arising out of the application of their wits and skills.

My granddad may have been a little overly daring that day high on the barn rafters, but he made quite an impression on me as he worked high up there, turning a bare framework into a fine barn.