Main Characters: Rob (age 13), Marshall Treppendahl & me (almost 16)
Date: October 20, 1968
I first began driving tractors when I was 8 years old. A tornado had come through the back of our property and strewn trees and large limbs across the cattle pastures. It was in the summer when there was a lot of work to be done so Dad sent me with Spot, one of Dad’s best men, to help clear the fields. My job was to drive the tractor to pull the debris once Spot used a chain saw to cut it down to size.
Spot was in even more danger than me. Accelerators on tractors are fixed; they don’t deaccelerate when released. Tractors have brakes for each rear wheel – so stepping on a brake does not stop a tractor – it just stops one of the rear wheels which causes the tractor to pivot around the braked wheel. Clutches take a good bit of force to fully depress – a challenge for 70 pound 8-year-olds. On more than one occasion, I would have run over Spot had he not been so nimble. But Spot was a good and patient teacher, and we cleared the fields together without anyone being injured. Several years later, Spot trained my brother Rob to drive a tractor as well.
As I think back, we had very few truly dangerous mishaps on the farm. Most broken bones and torn flesh came from falling off or being kicked or bitten by horses rather than from using heavy equipment. Though there was one incident that did stand out and offered a presage of the tragedy that was to come.
It was during the summer and I would guess that Rob was about 11 (his birthday was July 29th so 11 or just 11) which meant that I was 13.
We were plowing a field on the very back of The Grove. Rob’s was the smaller tractor and I think it would pull a two bladed plow. I had the larger tractor which pulled a 4 bladed plow. The ground was rough with ditches and rutted cow paths. The plows would break up the ground but not make it smooth. That came later with a disc and then a harrow. These tractors did not have power steering. They had large steel steering wheels that essentially connected directly to the front wheels of the tractor. It took a fair amount of effort to turn the tractor’s front wheels with the steering wheels. Conversely, if the front wheels hit something that forced them to turn, it translated back directly to the steering wheel. Tractor seats today have springs, cushions, and shock absorbers in them. These tractor seats were fixed directly to the frame of the tractor and had a cushion tied to them. If you hit a hard bump, it would rattle your teeth. So, when it was really rough, as it was there, we chose to stand up much of the time rather than sitting down.
Dad had dropped us off right after lunch and said he would be back at 5:00 to pick us up. It was a relatively small field so Rob and I could easily see other as we bounced along. On one of the turns, Rob swung out and looped back to line up on the row. When he did, he crossed over an old road with deep ruts in it. Rob partially lost his balance when the front wheel hit the first rut. A second later, the second deeper rut grabbed the tractor’s front wheel and turned it sharply as Rob was falling forward. His right arm went between the spokes of the steering wheel as it whipped one way and instantly back the other way. Rob snatched his arm out and fell back on the seat. To his great credit, he was able to knock the tractor out of gear and stop it. His forearm was snapped in two places. It was a compound fracture. He was bleeding badly and of course crying.
I drove over to him and jumped off my tractor and helped him down from his. I took off my t-shirt and tied it around where his arm was bleeding. It was just Rob and me. Not one person was at The Grove that day but us. I said, “Rob, we have to get to town to the doctor and all we have to go on is my tractor.” He was, of course, in great pain and shock. I got him up on the seat of my tractor and I stood in front of him. When we got out to the highway, I was hoping someone would come by that we could catch a ride with. After a minute, I took off to town at a top speed of 20 mph. I remember trying to wave some people down, but everyone just waved back. It took about 15 minutes to get Rob to Dr. Catching’s office. I remember pulling up out front and shouting from the tractor. Someone ran in the doctor’s office and in a few seconds, Ms. Oliva was out helping me get Rob down. We were crying pretty hard – Rob, me and I think Ms. Olivia. I don’t have a memory of what happened after that. I think I was in shock too. It was a terrible experience and one that has been the source of occasional nightmares over the years. If only it had served as warning that was heeded, it would have been a good thing. But it wasn’t.
The day Rob died
Dad and Rob drove out to The Woods Place on the morning of Sunday, October 20, 1968. One of Dad’s objectives was to move a tractor from the southwest end of the 800+ acre property to the barn near the front of the property. It was the same old blue Ford tractor that I had been plowing with on The Grove. It was even heavier and more difficult to steer than the tractor that snapped Rob’s arm several years before.
Dad dropped Rob off at the tractor and he went to do something on that section of the place before heading to rendezvous with Rob about fifteen minutes later. When he came around a curve where the road dipped down to cross a little creek, there was the tractor upside down. Dad ran over to it and found Rob unconscious and pinned under the tractor. The tractor was completely blocking the road and there was no other way out of the property. So, Dad had no option except to run as fast as he could out to the highway which I would guess was at least a half mile. He flagged someone down who took him to the little grocery store nearby that had a phone. I don’t know who all he called. Probably the sheriff who got the tow truck dispatched. He also called Dr. Catchings and of course, Mama. I think Dad told her that Rob was probably dead. When we arrived, the tractor was still on top of Rob. The tow truck was just getting into position to lift the tractor. Rob was not under the steering wheel – rather, he was under the hood of the tractor next to steering wheel. He was not mangled or bloody; he was just unconscious. Could he still be alive?
The tow truck lifted the front of the tractor up so that Rob could be pulled out from under it. Dr. Catchings knelt beside Rob and checked his pulse. He turned and looked at Dad and shook his head. Rob was dead.
Rob was obviously driving the tractor faster than he should have been. There was a big rut in the road just before the creek crossing. The tractor must have hit the rut and caused the front tire to swing hard right, right into the ditch bank which flipped the tractor upside down. Had the tractor had power steering, Rob would almost certainly have retained control. Had the tractor had a roll bar, it almost certainly would not have rolled on top of Rob. But the tractor had neither a roll bar nor power steering. Mama and both of my grandmothers had asked Dad several times to please put roll bars on the tractors. For some reason, Dad never got around to doing it. Rob was dead and it was unequivocally Dad’s fault
My wise and remarkable mother.
The most remarkable part of this tragedy is that Mama never blamed Dad – or at least not to him. She never said, “I told you so.” My mother saved our family and she saved Dad. Jean Roberts Treppendahl was one of the best and wisest people I have ever known.
This is the obituary that was in the Woodville Republican.
One last story I will mention – There are greater tragedies
According to everyone who would know, Rob’s funeral was attended by the largest number of people of any funeral ever held in Woodville. I was standing next to Dad at the graveside and a man came up to Dad and he said something to this effect “Marshall, I know that you believe that this is the worst possible thing that could happen to you, and it is terrible. But I would do anything to trade places with you right now.” Dad looked at the man (who I did not know but Dad did) with this stunned look – tears streaming down his face. The man continued, “Your son loved life and he loved you and he lost his life in a terrible accident. But my son was so unhappy with himself and with me that he took his own life.” And the man walked away.
Losing our daughter Laura in a car wreck 35 years later was a great tragedy, no doubt. However, whenever someone loses a child due to suicide, I remember what that man told Dad and recognize that the pain we endured could have been much worse.