Forty years ago they didn’t call it welfare.

It was mother’s pension, commissioners’ relief, old age pension, or county poor farm.

The first three gave monthly payments or picked up bills for living expenses.

But the last alternative meant a move to the solid brick two-storied structure along the Cottonwood River at the south end of New Ulm.

FOR THOSE with no place to go it was a roof over their heads,remembers Al Alfred, former county commission. They included hired men too old to work, parents whose children didn’t want them at home any more, even some who had deeded land over to the kids and then been kicked out.

Mostly the residents were men ages 50 to 90, but there were a few women and an occasional pregnant girl.

Sometimes orphans were kept there a month or two until they could be placed.

WHAT DID the old men do with their time?

Alphonse Hofmeister, overseer (manager) at the farm from 1928 to 1938,remembers, “They argued. And they played cards, smoked pipes, walked to town to watch the digging of sewers, listened to the radio. The county wouldn’t buy them a radio. I piped my radio into the smoking room.”

The churches took turns sending out pastors to deliver Sunday sermons.

THE POOR farm wasn’t self-supporting, Alfred says.

“It never could be. It was poor land, too much hills, timber and grass land,” he says. And the land was scattered around, five acres here, another five acres down the road, an inefficient arrangement.

The overseer hired by the county (and his wife) did the farming and ran the home. They raised as much feed as possible on the land for the cows,hogs and chickens, but there wasn’t enough good land to support the 15 or so occupants, overseer and family, Alfred says.

Hofmeister remembers one year in the 10 he was there when the poor farm was selfsupporting. Mostly the cost of repairs, of buying more land, of cutting and hauling extra wood to families in town on relief, tipped the balance.

His wife kept costs down by making her own butter, canned and baked goods, soap and even yeast cakes. The residents helped in the garden and barn, carried in wood for the big cook stove in the kitchen.

THE COUNTY owned everything at the farm and paid Hofmeister a monthly salary, $125 a month when he quit. He and his family also received room and board and reimbursement for any help they hired and paid out of Hofmeister’s salary.

“We didn’t have one day of vacation in 10 years of work,”Hofmeister remembers.” Things were tough.

“When Roosevelt got in as president,” Hofmeister says,”they cut out all county poor farms. That was one of his promises, to get rid of over-the-hill poor farms.”

Alfred remembers the poor farm was costing “more than it was worth'” so in 1938 the county board closed it and leased the farm to a couple who then operated a boarding home there. The couple agreed to care for any Old Age pensioners who boarded there, at a rate agreed on by the couple and the county board.

In 1948 the county sold off all the land except that near the county home, getting about $8,500 for it. The land is now the site for such businesses as New Ulm Mobile Village, Knopke Motors, Fireside Restaurant and the new sewage treatment plant.

FROM 1950 to 1965 the Norman Wielands ran the boarding home. The house, built in 1906, had 11bedrooms, three baths and two half-baths,large dining room and kitchen, living room and smoking room, plus wide hallway upstairs used for checkers and card games,when the Wielands lived there with their five children.

It was no longer called the county poor farm but the activities of the old men stayed pretty much the same.

“In the summer they would fish at the river or go walking, some would walk uptown, or they would just sit and do not much of anything,” Mrs. Wieland says.

“We had one fellow there who had played violin for King Oscar the Second of Sweden when he was in his early 20s. He was between 65 and 70when he lived at the farm.He played the piano just for our enjoyment. Later on his fingers started to stiffen up, he tried so hard but he just couldn’t put out.”

AT CHRISTMAS certain clubs came out from town and gave fruits and playing cards, clothing and candy to the fellows, and choirs visited too.

There were 21 men at the boarding home when it closed, 10 from Brown County, the rest from other counties.

“We told the county we were quitting,” Wieland remembers.”It’s a lot of work, there’s a lot of headache, a lot of time involved you really didn’t get paid for.” When they quit they were getting $75 per month per occupant.

The county couldn’t get anyone else to operate the home and other places were available for residents, Alfred says, so the county sold the building and adjoining acreage to Frank Gasner for $12,300. Present owner is Charles Eicher of Edina.

TEN YEARS of vacancy have been time enough for vandals and thieves to strip the home bare.

“Everything was freshly painted in the last year or two, everything was cleaned,” when it closed, remembers Wieland.

The metal beds and mattresses, the dressers and dining room tables were left. The first thief to break in took only the most valuable things, but bit by bit everything disappeared except the concrete floor, an old shoe and one or two beds. The windows are out, the doors hang askew.

MRS. WIELAND remembers the house as “big and comfortable. It was home to us and I’m sure it was home to a lot of the guys. They were just drifters, most of them were bachelors. They worked for other people and when they got older they couldn’t work like they were expected.”

Two or three of the former boarders moved into New Ulm after the home closed but they “would go out there Sundays and just sit,”‘ Mrs. Wieland remembers.

The Wielands still live nearby; Mrs. Wieland recalls strolling up to the vacant building for a chat with the old fellows.

“They’d say, ‘Here comes the cook and the manager, now we can open up the place again.’ It was kind of sad.”

New Ulm Daily Journal

July 7, 1975