Emery William Dickman
January 28, 1924 - August 23, 2012

"After reading the tribute to Emery Dickman sumitted by Stephen Cramer, I can only say:" spot on" Stephen. Stephen was also glib with both tongue and pen when I knew him. I am not. Glad to see that trait continue. I, too lived with in a few miles of Emery and was hired to preform some of the same tasks Stephen mentioned. I worked along side Emery, Stephen, and Stephen's brother Craig on many occasions. This continued for several years. Now Emery had a reputation of being a hard man to work for. Many thought that his standards and expectations were unreasonable. Mostly those who said that only concerns were: "When's coffee break, what's for dinner, and what will I get paid?" Many vowed that they would never work for Emery again. Others were never asked to. It was not up to Emery to lower his standards but to raise theirs. As I said, I worked for a while for Emery as day labor. Until one day in the spring of 1964, (I was 13 at the time) Emory approached my parents and asked if I would be interested in running a cultivator along side his dad. This was way more than day labor. My parents didn't think I could handle it, but Emery was willing to let me give it a try. After a few rounds in the field, with Emery showing me the workings of the equipment and the job he expected- if you covered up corn you stopped and uncoved it. If you saw an occasional rock, you stopped and picked it up. Now this was done with a Super H Farmal, no power steering, no comfort cab, and no radio. Top speed was maybe 4 mph. Hot or cold, dusty, boring tedecious work. It was Emory's idea, that enough dirt was rolled in the rows to cover small weeds, but not enough to cover corn plant. Not an easy task for a 13 year old. First I worked with some supervision from Emery with a few helpful pointers, later with little or no super vision. Apparently Emory trusted me with job I did. After cultivating, I was entrusted to do more jobs that were associated with farming, cleaning and bedding livestock pens, plowing a straight furrow at a uniform depth, etc. First Emory would show me how he wanted it done, then I was on my own. One time several area farmers and Emory were contacted by a seed company to grow certified seed oats for them at an agreed price. Their inspectors come out just before harvest and said that their agreed on price would be lowered if oats contained too much foreign material at harvest i.e. Canadian thistle seed milk weed seed etc. While spraying would kill these, the seed heads would remain to go through harvester. So, Emery, myself and 2 other young men hit the field armed with empty feed sacks and leather winter mittens. We proceded to strip foilage and seed heads from every weed in that 40 acres. Strip, put in bag, haul full bags to end of field, and put in pickup truck to be burned later. Not one weed was missed. Emery made sure of that. Upon harvest several weeks later Emory was paid not only the agreed price, but a bonus for the cleanliness of his seed. This bonus more than offset the cost of labor. Other growers who did not deliver a weed free seed were not as "lucky." Emery bought western cattle put them in his lots and fed them to market weight. The whole time I worked for him his cattle lots and pig pens were never empty. Occationally during a break from work, Emory would lean on the fence and look at the cattle feeding and say: "Boy, I'm going to lose my shirt on this bunch." I never saw Emery shirtless. When it came time to market his animals, Emery was would personly sort what animals would go to slaughter. If they did not meet his standards, they would stay in his lots and pens until they did. For this packers would gererally pay a premium price. Care of of his animals was utmost on his agenda. This led to several late nights fixing bulky waters, adding more bedding, and administrating medication when needed. He never waited until the next day. Some are envious of the amount of land Emery has aquired. When is enough, enough, In my opinion "by God" he earned every acre. It was one of the hardest things I ever did, at a young age, when I had to tell Emery, that I had been offered and accepted a job with another farmer that guaranteed more hours. Emery said " he understood, was sorry to lose me me shook my hand, and told me to do my best at this new job. With a start in the labor field like that, a youngster develops a work ethic that stays with him for a lifetime. Some time later, I was able to obtain job at a local manufacture. This work ethic was immediately noticed by my co-workers and management. I did the job, plus a little bit extra. My co-workers wondered why, after all we all got paid the same. Rate of pay was never my prime motivation, although sometimes a result. When I was asked where I had gotten that work ethic, I could only think, from my parents and that I learned it working for Emery Dickman. When I retired, after almost 36 years of service, I had the satisfaction of knowing that for every hour for which I was paid, I gave my very best and maybe a little extra. When a person becomes a parent, it is always the wish that your children pick up some of your ideals. You never really know if that is happening. And so it was with me. That is until one saturday morning when my teenage daughter, who worked part time as a nurses aid at the local care center, and after a brutal week of school and a late Friday night, came downstairs for breakfast ranting and raving that she was going to blow off work that day. After all, all of her co-wokers had done it a time or two. After breakfast she stormed back up stairs to go back to bed. On the way by, while I was reading the paper, she grouched what I thought. Now I'am no Ward Cleaver or John Walton, but I looked up and said: "Let your conscience be your guide." Five minutes later, she came storming back down the stairs wearing her nurses uniform, got in the car and went to work. On the way by that time, she said: "Damn' you and 'damn your work ethic" 'Sweeter' words were never spoken to this parent. Not a hug, not a "I love you Dad", not even a great Christmas present. I can guarantee you from that moment several years ago that she has never given anything less and maybe a bit more in any task assigned to her. I can only hope that she can convey those ideals on to her children. And, it all began from my parents and the fact that; I worked along side Emery Dickman. Rest in Peace, Emery, and a long overdue , Thanks Robert S. Christians "

"Please accept our sincere condolences for the loss of your loved one. This is one of the most difficult things we must face in our life. May it comfort you to know that others are deeply touched by your loss. God assures us at Psalms 34:18 that he is near to those broken in heart and those crushed in spirit he saves. Jesus also promises that we will be able to see our loved ones again. Jesus own words found at John 5:28,29 tells us there will be a resurrection. What a wonderful hope! God says that soon on the earth there will be no more pain, suffering and especially death at Revelation 21:3-5 We anxiously await the day when we will no longer lose those we love. May these bible thoughts bring you comfort at this most difficult time. "

"'Emery was a farmer.' Four words--just four words--very brief, but very profound. 'Emery was a farmer.' I grew up only a mile or two from the Dickman homestead. I remember the Dickmans, Emery and his father, Henry, as they worked together on their farm, year after year, season in and season out, with a constancy that was common in those days. It was a life that defined rural America and agriculture and helped spawn the urban culture and society most of us live today--a culture that has lost touch with its agrarian roots and lacks even a basic understanding of where the food they eat comes from and the effort that is required to get it there. Emery was a friend of my father. In the 50's and 60's many small farmers didn't have all the equipment needed to 'farm.' One of my earliest memories is watching my dad load bales of hay--two wide, four high, eight deep--on flat beds that were hauled to barns for winter forage. Dad worked at the Dickmans and Emery would bring the baler over to work our crop. My first 'job' was running the tractor on the Dickman's farm going forward and backward as the bales were forked and pulled upward in the barn. The first pay I ever received for labor was from Emery--and over the years he paid me often, for loading bales when I got old enough, for cleaning farrowing pens when it was still done manually, and for walking beans to remove weeds and volunteer corn in those pre-Roundup days. Emery worked hard--almost constantly, I remember--and always seemed at the forefront of responsible farming and scientific farming methods. Others came and went. He continued. He was loyal to his friends and family and although I didn't appreciate it until much later, he had a very human side when you got to know him.On my infrequent visits home, I would occasionally drop in to see what he was doing. He was always welcoming and took the time to show me and my family his latest efforts and projects. His tearful private tribute after my father's funeral gave me an insight of a man I didn't know as well as I thought I did. Still, I was lucky to know him at all. 'Emery was a farmer.' Few will truly appreciate those words, but I do. Like so many of his generation, he took care of friends, family and community in a quiet way that went unnoticed by most and is appreciated by few. The Emery's of my childhood are disappearing now, one at a time. Who will replace them? To all of his family, deepest regards and condolences. The pain retreats and soon only good memories remain. I was lucky to know Emery as I did and his passing diminishes us all."