Gerb glanced out at the crowd gathered around the field. Friends, relatives, and neighbors along with people from all around the area were buzzing anticipation of the Labor Day Horse Pulling Contest in Borculo which was about to begin. "Hundreds of people," he thought out loud, as he glanced over to where his wife Alma and daughters, his aging parents Albert & Annie, and his wife's parents were sitting. He even gave a little wave as he stood with Molly and Queen waiting for the event to proceed.
He had never entered a horse pulling contest before, his was a farm team, not a professional pulling team, and farmers were generally too busy to take time for events like this. But today's contest was for area farm teams, working horses, and Hank Weaver, a local Borculo businessman, had encouraged Gerb to enter. The contest was his idea for raising money for a new community building in Borculo. He had heard how Molly and Queen sometimes helped other farmers in a bad situation - like the time Hank Guerink's team was stuck in a ditch and Gerb's horses had come to the rescue, handily pulling the load away. Some of Gerb's neighbors had been persuaded to enter their teams, so after some initial reservations, Gerb had decided to try his luck at the horse pull too.
He surveyed Molly and Queen - they looked downright pretty on this sunny day. He had wanted them to look their best, so he had brushed and curried their sturdy coats to a sheen and had even roached their manes. To top it off, he decided to polish the brass hames and buckles on their harnesses. They were a dandy pair of harnesses, recently a good buy from Paul DeWys, a neighbor who was now driving a Farmall and didn't need harnesses any more.
Gerb had asked his wife for nice soft cloth for polishing the dull brass, but Alma, ever the practical one, thought the whole affair was quite foolish and refused to give up one of her good towels. So, Gerb had cut through the pasture, run over the old 2' x 12" plank which spanned the creek, and gone the quarter mile to his parents' house where he asked his mother Annie for the item. Of course, she was more than happy to give her youngest child, the baby she had borne at 42, whatever he asked. Towel in hand, he marched back home and commenced to rubbing the brass to a highly polished luster. He oiled the leather, too, and cleaned the line spreaders to a bright white. So, Molly and Queen were looking their best as they waited unperturbed.
Actually, the two were quite unflappable. They were sisters, and though a year apart in age, they looked like twins. They were close in weight and height, and their bay coats were mirror shades of one another. Though not showy, they were darned good looking Gerb thought. And they had like temperaments, too. They weren't afraid of loud engines or thunder, and they didn't seem to mind the hoots and hollers of the large crowd, though they had never been at such a gathering before. They stood patiently with Gerb, waiting whatever was to transpire. They trusted Gerb and he trusted them: they were a team of three.
It was pretty simple, really. A large stone-boat stood on the course with a huge pile of blocks beside it. Initially, the boat was loaded with about 1500 pounds of blocks, and the teams were to pull it 10 feet, if they could. Each team was to have two tries at pulling the boat. After every round more blocks were added, until a winning team emerged, having pulled the most weight the full distance.
There were fourteen teams in the contest in this Labor Day of 1951, and Gerb was assigned number 7. He now sized up his competition. Some he didn't know since the contestants had come from neighboring communities. Others he did know, and he knew immediately who one of his biggest threats would be, his neighbor Pete deWendt.
Pete lived just a couple of miles from his farm, and Gerb knew his horses could pull. They were heavier and bigger than Molly and Queen, so that gave them an edge. And Pete was a fine horseman and driver, too. He was kind to his animals and knew how to get the best from them without resorting to striking them. Gerb and Pete were good friends, and if Pete did get the best of him that day it wouldn't bother him, not too much anyway. Gerb smiled to himself, though, because he was confident that his team had a little more heart, a little more determination, and he really believed they could get the better of Pete's Fanny and Jen.
The other team he quickly recognized as a rival was driven by Arend Driesenga. His horses were registered Belgians and looked like they were ready for any task. Although the competition was supposed to be for amateurs only, Arend's team had pulled in at least a half dozen other pulling contests around the west side of Michigan. So, they had a big advantage there, Gerb thought. And Arend was also a good driver, so that, Gerb thought, was a team to watch.
Each team had a second man to hitch the evener to the stone boat. Gerb's father would have done it, had he not been almost 80 years old and growing feeble in both mind and body. They called it "hardening of the arteries," and it was starting to affect the old man's memory. Nonetheless, he was there, and he immediately recognized "his" team as they stood in the middle of the line. Gerb was going hitch the evener himself, but John Machiela, a friend from Borculo, had volunteered to do the job, and now they were ready for the show to begin.
Marv DeWitt, a local turkey farmer and school classmate of Gerb's at grade school, was the announcer and he had also entered his team in the competition. So he stepped his horses up to start the first round. He had paid a lot for his team and they were handsome pair to be sure. But they were so frightened by the growing noise of the crowd and the strange surroundings, that they wouldn't pull at all. No amount of urging could make them pull the boat even an inch, so twice they were unhitched and were walked off in disgrace among snickers from the crowd.
When it was time for number seven to pull, Marv provided some good natured banter for his friend. "Here comes Gerb Kuyers," he said. "What do you want for your horses, Gerb? Maybe I can do better with yours than I did with mine." When Gerb made no reply, Marv turned to the crowd and said, "He doesn't have much to say now, but most days he's talking all the time. Bring up your team, Gerb."
Gerb walked Molly and Queen in front of the stone boat, John hitched the harness, and Gerb clicked his tongue a bit, yelling "Gid-aap" over the noisy crowd. Molly and Queen responded by walking away with the light load, never hesitating for a moment. When Gerb hollered "Whoa," they stopped and awaited further instructions. They were good that way, never anticipating and starting too early, and stopping immediately on command.
So on they went, one after another, teams pulling the stone boat the required distance, unhitching and returning to their original spot in the line, or failing and leaving the competition. It didn't take too long until gaps began to appear in the line as teams dropped out.
Eventually there were three teams left: Pete, Arend, and Gerb remained with their horses. A large pile of blocks was now on the boat, Gerb had no idea of how many pounds it actually was, and the ground was getting softer from pulling the boat back and forth over the course.
In this round Pete was first to pull. On command Fanny and Jen strained in the harness and with utmost effort, they pulled the boat just over 6 feet, Pete shouting as they pulled, "Fanny, Fanny, Fanny." On the second try, they had even less success.
It was then Gerb's turn, and he talked to Molly and Queen as they stepped toward the stone-boat. "C'mon Girl, you can do it," he said. From the sidelines, he could hear his friends and family shout encouragement, "You can do it, Gerb: and "Show 'em, Gerb." His neighbor Pete Rynsburger let out a shout "Go on, Queen."
Molly and Queen waited for Gerb's "Gid aap." They put their shoulders into their work and dug into the soft dirt, not moving the boat. "hit "em, Gerb, hit "em" he could hear someone shout from the sidelines, but Gerb had no intention of hitting his team. He unhitched the horses, walked them a bit, and went back in front of the boat. He shouted, this time with urgency, "Come on, Molly, Come on, Queen, let's go," and he gave the lines a slap. Again, they heaved forward, and this time the stone-boat lurched ahead, the horses laying into their harnesses, heads down pulling for all they were worth. The crowd erupted, cheers all around, as Molly and Queen pulled the stone-boat 6 feet, 1 inch, one inch further that Pete's tem had pulled. That was it, no more, they had done all they could. He walked the horses back next to Pete's and both turned their heads toward Arend to see what his team would do.
Up Arend came with his Belgians. Hitched, he slapped the reins and gave a shout, sharp whistle. The horses didn't hesitate; they put their heads down, dug in, and pulled the boat all the way to victory. As he watched them walk away with the prize, Gerb admired Arend's horses. "They deserved to win," he told himself, though in his heart he really felt it was not quite a fair competition.
Gerb was about to take his team off the course and go home, when the judges announced there was a second award to be given. It was a $10 prize for the best driver. Before he could think much about it, Gerb heard Marv call out, "The 1951 Borculo Horse Pulling Contest Best Driver Award goes to Gerb Kuyers." Taken aback, he stood for a few seconds, his feet refusing to move, but then he stepped forward to receive his winnings. The crowd cheered, his parents cheered, and Alma cheered too. Pete Rynsburger turned to the man next to him and said, "Albert Kuyers was a good driver, and his son is, too."
Gerb had taken his team to Borculo pulling a wagon with a small load of hay which he had dropped off along the way. As he took the horses back, he picked up the empty wagon and made his way the rest of the one-and-three-fourths miles home. That evening, he made the walk through the pasture and over the creek a second time to his parent's house where he presented his mother with the $10.00 award.