He was born in Butler Township where he lived out his life.
Carl was a lifelong farmer.
The following article was printed in either the "Dayton Daily News" or the "Dayton Journal Herald" sometime in 1977. It was written by Bob Batz, a well-known and well-read columnist of that time: "
It is October again and his corn is tall and dry and ready for the harvest. But Carl Helke does not go into the fields to work any more.
For 53 years of his 75 Octobers, Helke went to the fields as the first fires of autumn burned at the rim of the woods and the dead, brown stuff of fall began to appear along the fence rows.
Each October, from the time when he was a small boy, Carl Helke rose early and dressed hurriedly by the light of the moon. In the fields his breath hung in the air, and his boots made crunching sounds on the frosted earth.
Now, though illness has forced him to lease his 200 acres on Jackson Road, near Vandalia, to a neighbor, Helke still gets out of bed before the sun. On nice days he still walks in his fields.
He does it, he says, because there are some things a man just can get out of his system.
Helke likes to talk about the old days...the days when he plowed with a team of horses and picked and shucked corn by hand.
'October's always been the time for corn,' he says. 'I'd start early in the month and sometimes I wouldn't finish up until late winter. Back then, there weren't a lot of fancy machines to do most of the work. A man had to use his hands. Shoot, I couldn't pick and shuck an acre of corn a day. That was work.'
Helke remembers walking down the rows, pulling the fat ears off the stalks and throwing them into a wagon or piling them on the ground Then the ears had to be shucked and put into the cribs for winter feed for the livestock.
Helke learned farming from his father who worked his land for more than 70 years. The elder Helke, who at one time had more than 400 acres, was 94 when he died in 1970.
Carl Helke bought the farm where he still lives in 1926.
He plowed with horses until 1940 when he bought his first tractor.
'Dad had a tractor before I did, ' he recalls. I just never saw a need for one.'
He says farmers today are 'playing at' farming. 'They sure spend an awful lot of money to get a little bit done,' he says, adding: 'When I was a young man, farming was a way of life. If you didn't work at it, you didn't survive.'
For most of his life, Helke was out of bed at 3:00 a.m. to milk the cows. Then he went into the fields.
'I still wake up at 3 or 4 every day,' he says with a grin.
Helke's only child died in 1934. His wife died last April.
'I miss farming because it was a big part of my life for a long, long time,' Helke says. "Old farmers like me, they get restless in the springtime and the fall.
'I'm all alone, and now and then I go for a walk in the fields and when I'm walking, I have different thoughts. Sometimes, I wonder to myself, where am I going from here?'"
Carl was a lifelong farmer.
The following article was printed in either the "Dayton Daily News" or the "Dayton Journal Herald" sometime in 1977. It was written by Bob Batz, a well-known and well-read columnist of that time: "
It is October again and his corn is tall and dry and ready for the harvest. But Carl Helke does not go into the fields to work any more.
For 53 years of his 75 Octobers, Helke went to the fields as the first fires of autumn burned at the rim of the woods and the dead, brown stuff of fall began to appear along the fence rows.
Each October, from the time when he was a small boy, Carl Helke rose early and dressed hurriedly by the light of the moon. In the fields his breath hung in the air, and his boots made crunching sounds on the frosted earth.
Now, though illness has forced him to lease his 200 acres on Jackson Road, near Vandalia, to a neighbor, Helke still gets out of bed before the sun. On nice days he still walks in his fields.
He does it, he says, because there are some things a man just can get out of his system.
Helke likes to talk about the old days...the days when he plowed with a team of horses and picked and shucked corn by hand.
'October's always been the time for corn,' he says. 'I'd start early in the month and sometimes I wouldn't finish up until late winter. Back then, there weren't a lot of fancy machines to do most of the work. A man had to use his hands. Shoot, I couldn't pick and shuck an acre of corn a day. That was work.'
Helke remembers walking down the rows, pulling the fat ears off the stalks and throwing them into a wagon or piling them on the ground Then the ears had to be shucked and put into the cribs for winter feed for the livestock.
Helke learned farming from his father who worked his land for more than 70 years. The elder Helke, who at one time had more than 400 acres, was 94 when he died in 1970.
Carl Helke bought the farm where he still lives in 1926.
He plowed with horses until 1940 when he bought his first tractor.
'Dad had a tractor before I did, ' he recalls. I just never saw a need for one.'
He says farmers today are 'playing at' farming. 'They sure spend an awful lot of money to get a little bit done,' he says, adding: 'When I was a young man, farming was a way of life. If you didn't work at it, you didn't survive.'
For most of his life, Helke was out of bed at 3:00 a.m. to milk the cows. Then he went into the fields.
'I still wake up at 3 or 4 every day,' he says with a grin.
Helke's only child died in 1934. His wife died last April.
'I miss farming because it was a big part of my life for a long, long time,' Helke says. "Old farmers like me, they get restless in the springtime and the fall.
'I'm all alone, and now and then I go for a walk in the fields and when I'm walking, I have different thoughts. Sometimes, I wonder to myself, where am I going from here?'"
He was born in Butler Township where he lived out his life.
Carl was a lifelong farmer.
The following article was printed in either the "Dayton Daily News" or the "Dayton Journal Herald" sometime in 1977. It was written by Bob Batz, a well-known and well-read columnist of that time: "
It is October again and his corn is tall and dry and ready for the harvest. But Carl Helke does not go into the fields to work any more.
For 53 years of his 75 Octobers, Helke went to the fields as the first fires of autumn burned at the rim of the woods and the dead, brown stuff of fall began to appear along the fence rows.
Each October, from the time when he was a small boy, Carl Helke rose early and dressed hurriedly by the light of the moon. In the fields his breath hung in the air, and his boots made crunching sounds on the frosted earth.
Now, though illness has forced him to lease his 200 acres on Jackson Road, near Vandalia, to a neighbor, Helke still gets out of bed before the sun. On nice days he still walks in his fields.
He does it, he says, because there are some things a man just can get out of his system.
Helke likes to talk about the old days...the days when he plowed with a team of horses and picked and shucked corn by hand.
'October's always been the time for corn,' he says. 'I'd start early in the month and sometimes I wouldn't finish up until late winter. Back then, there weren't a lot of fancy machines to do most of the work. A man had to use his hands. Shoot, I couldn't pick and shuck an acre of corn a day. That was work.'
Helke remembers walking down the rows, pulling the fat ears off the stalks and throwing them into a wagon or piling them on the ground Then the ears had to be shucked and put into the cribs for winter feed for the livestock.
Helke learned farming from his father who worked his land for more than 70 years. The elder Helke, who at one time had more than 400 acres, was 94 when he died in 1970.
Carl Helke bought the farm where he still lives in 1926.
He plowed with horses until 1940 when he bought his first tractor.
'Dad had a tractor before I did, ' he recalls. I just never saw a need for one.'
He says farmers today are 'playing at' farming. 'They sure spend an awful lot of money to get a little bit done,' he says, adding: 'When I was a young man, farming was a way of life. If you didn't work at it, you didn't survive.'
For most of his life, Helke was out of bed at 3:00 a.m. to milk the cows. Then he went into the fields.
'I still wake up at 3 or 4 every day,' he says with a grin.
Helke's only child died in 1934. His wife died last April.
'I miss farming because it was a big part of my life for a long, long time,' Helke says. "Old farmers like me, they get restless in the springtime and the fall.
'I'm all alone, and now and then I go for a walk in the fields and when I'm walking, I have different thoughts. Sometimes, I wonder to myself, where am I going from here?'"
Carl was a lifelong farmer.
The following article was printed in either the "Dayton Daily News" or the "Dayton Journal Herald" sometime in 1977. It was written by Bob Batz, a well-known and well-read columnist of that time: "
It is October again and his corn is tall and dry and ready for the harvest. But Carl Helke does not go into the fields to work any more.
For 53 years of his 75 Octobers, Helke went to the fields as the first fires of autumn burned at the rim of the woods and the dead, brown stuff of fall began to appear along the fence rows.
Each October, from the time when he was a small boy, Carl Helke rose early and dressed hurriedly by the light of the moon. In the fields his breath hung in the air, and his boots made crunching sounds on the frosted earth.
Now, though illness has forced him to lease his 200 acres on Jackson Road, near Vandalia, to a neighbor, Helke still gets out of bed before the sun. On nice days he still walks in his fields.
He does it, he says, because there are some things a man just can get out of his system.
Helke likes to talk about the old days...the days when he plowed with a team of horses and picked and shucked corn by hand.
'October's always been the time for corn,' he says. 'I'd start early in the month and sometimes I wouldn't finish up until late winter. Back then, there weren't a lot of fancy machines to do most of the work. A man had to use his hands. Shoot, I couldn't pick and shuck an acre of corn a day. That was work.'
Helke remembers walking down the rows, pulling the fat ears off the stalks and throwing them into a wagon or piling them on the ground Then the ears had to be shucked and put into the cribs for winter feed for the livestock.
Helke learned farming from his father who worked his land for more than 70 years. The elder Helke, who at one time had more than 400 acres, was 94 when he died in 1970.
Carl Helke bought the farm where he still lives in 1926.
He plowed with horses until 1940 when he bought his first tractor.
'Dad had a tractor before I did, ' he recalls. I just never saw a need for one.'
He says farmers today are 'playing at' farming. 'They sure spend an awful lot of money to get a little bit done,' he says, adding: 'When I was a young man, farming was a way of life. If you didn't work at it, you didn't survive.'
For most of his life, Helke was out of bed at 3:00 a.m. to milk the cows. Then he went into the fields.
'I still wake up at 3 or 4 every day,' he says with a grin.
Helke's only child died in 1934. His wife died last April.
'I miss farming because it was a big part of my life for a long, long time,' Helke says. "Old farmers like me, they get restless in the springtime and the fall.
'I'm all alone, and now and then I go for a walk in the fields and when I'm walking, I have different thoughts. Sometimes, I wonder to myself, where am I going from here?'"
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