PATHLOW, Sask. – On July 31, the books close on another crop year, an elevator and Jim Gaetz’s 40-year career in grain buying.
His retirement coincides with the closure and dismantling of the orange Pioneer elevator towering over what little remains of the tiny hamlet of 24 people. In June, about 300 gathered in the local hall to mark Gaetz’s impending retirement.
“People are pretty sad about it and so am I, because I’ve been here a long time,” said Gaetz in the elevator where he has worked since 1979. He joked about taking home his office door, papered with years of yellowed jokes and cartoons.
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Dressed in plain work clothes set off by a Pioneer cap and a shiny “JIM” belt buckle given to him by his wife Geraldine, Gaetz explained how he started working in elevators in 1959 in his home of St. Brieux, Sask., under his father Mike Gaetz.
Mike spent more than 40 years in elevators while running a mixed farm. Two of Jim’s four children work for Saskatchewan Wheat Pool in the elevator and farm service division.
Like the 65-year-old Gaetz, who gave up curling because of bad knees, the elevator is showing its age. The paint has faded and many of the bins leak.
Pathlow’s first Pioneer elevator was built in 1922, while the current one was constructed from Saskatchewan Wheat Pool and National Grain buildings in 1979.
He said customers are the best part of the job. Two of them wandered in this day to check commodity prices on the satellite-fed computer and visit friends while sitting on a hard wooden bench. The elevator informally doubles as Pathlow’s last remaining coffee shop. The village once had two garages, three stores and a hotel.
It’s not unusual to make seven pots of coffee a day, Gaetz said.
Assistant manager Scott Wurmnest said Gaetz built a loyal following with his amicable personality, fairness, honesty, dedication and strong work ethic. His focus was always customer service.
“Like farmers, you have to be in love with the work and with farming to continue to do what you’re doing.”
Gaetz said he was more than a buyer and the elevator more than just a place to sell grain.
“To be a grain buyer, you have be a weatherman, electrician, adviser, plumber and a listener,” he said.
“They’re customers, but also friends. Farmers come in here and tell you their problems.”
Wurmnest said that’s because they trust and respect Gaetz.
“You know you can always go to the local elevator for a listening ear.”
Area farmer Gary Harmon said he is sad to see Gaetz go.
“You miss those kind of people.”
Added farmer Art LeGatt: “Whenever any friend moves away, it’s a loss.”
He said he will also miss the convenience of his nearby elevator.
“It was one of the few remaining places to bring people together.”
He fears the elevator’s demise will further erode the community.
He and Harmon will watch the demolition, but with mixed feelings.
“It’s a change in the landscape and probably not for the better,” LeGatt said.
Gaetz plans to be at his cabin.
“I probably don’t want to see it too bad,” he said.
“You kind of get attached to it.”
The new Pioneer elevator at Melfort 36 kilometres away will offer more services. It will also load cars five times as fast as the Pathlow elevator , which can only accommodate 13 cars.
Harmon said many farmers were loyal to Gaetz and the local elevator, even if it meant five cents a bushel less. That will change with the elevator’s closure, with growers hiring trucks to haul to where they can get the best price.
The switch from half-ton and three-ton trucks to Super Bs and semis was one of the biggest changes witnessed by Gaetz, who recalled horses once hauling loads into St. Brieux.
Crops have remained stable, due to the region’s short growing season.
The job that once needed only a Grade 6 education now requires a university degree, although Gaetz maintains those with farm backgrounds best suit this work.
Another change was the move to computers in the mid-1980s, which required a course for Gaetz in Winnipeg and many late nights “trying to figure it out.”
A typical day sees him leaving for work by 6 a.m., usually greeting the first farmers by 7:30 and returning home by 7 p.m., later in the busy seasons.
“We spend more time here than we do with our wives,” he said.
The elevator handled about 1.5 million bushels per year, with Gaetz and his crew loading cars and unloading grain, mainly wheat, barley, malting barley and canola, doing moisture and protein tests and selling farm supplies.
Gaetz also made out 100 producer permit books a year.
The job had its hazards, although Gaetz can recall taking only one sick day with Pioneer. He recalled the time at St. Brieux when he fell off a rail car onto his back, blacking out and waking up in the hospital. When a cleaner tore the skin off his father’s arm, Gaetz took charge of the elevator until his father mended.
A farmer’s truck rolled down the ramp once, smacking a bin and narrowly missing a line of trucks.
When the elevator was struck by lightning, staff climbed up the manlift with a fire extinguisher to put out the fire.
Perhaps the most chilling tale was when he heard his late father’s voice calling for him in the elevator at St. Brieux.
“I closed the doors and went home,” Gaetz said.
He gave up a heavy smoking habit 15 years ago and never used a mask in the early years.
“You go home and start coughing,” he said.
“You’re coughing up mud is what you’re doing.”
Added Wurmnest with a smile: “He did his time in the dust.”
Gaetz spent his final weeks cleaning out and emptying bins. This warm July day, the wind howled through the Pioneer offices as Gaetz spoke, amplifying the emptiness of the doomed, mammoth structure behind.
“It’s going to be real quiet from here on in,” he said of the final weeks.
