The Ozarks’ heyday in the large-scale commercial fruit industry rode in after the Civil War with the railroad. Its cars took away fruit like strawberries, tomatoes, apples, peaches and grapes and brought rural Ozarkers an even rarer commodity: Cash money.
"I think there was a belief that there was kind of something special about the region at one time, and it's hard to tell now how much of that was just blatant promotion because certainly the railroads did most of the promoting," says Dr. Brooks Blevins, the Noel Boyd Professor of Ozarks Studies at Missouri State University. "That's how Laura Ingalls Wilder ends up in the Ozarks. They come across one of those, you know, railroad promotional pamphlets, the land of the big red apple come down here and and, you know, it's paradise on earth."
Blevins said that endeavors like apple orchards were often started by outsiders with means to make them happen. On the other hand, tomatoes were more accessible to everyday Ozarkers.
"Tomatoes will grow in almost any circumstances," Blevins said. "They may not grow great but, but you can grow them."
A key name in this work was Roy Nelson, known as Tomato King of the Ozarks, who owned a collection of canneries. In other places, small farmers contracted with factories, which in turn hired locals to peel and process the fruit. And yes, tomatoes are technically fruit.
"There were so many," said Paul Johns, whose grandparents-in-law ran the Bilyeu Canning Factory in Spokane. "They were just dotted everywhere during their heyday, during the Depression, because they were needed.
They would take one of those buckets of tomatoes, and they would peel it, and it would have their station number on it. They — each bucket would have their station number on it, so they would all know whose tomatoes they were that got peeled, and then they pack them back up and send them back around.
When they took dump those tomatoes out, they put a token in there and come back around to them. And they'd take that token and they'd save that up the end of the day. So each token was redeemed for so much money, and that's how they kept tally of how many tomatoes they peeled every day."
About 45 miles west, Monett was known as the strawberry capital of the world. There were so many berries grown in that area that migrant laborers actually came to the area during harvest to help.
An example of its importance: In 1924, locals suggested new slogans for the town — and many had to do with strawberries. My favorite: "Monett, the R.R. Gateway, where the big red strawberry and the blushing apple greet the welcome tourists." It wasn't chosen — perhaps it was too long for the city's stationary.
This large commercial fruit era ended in the mid-20th century. Tomato canning factories dwindled around World War II. Better irrigation methods drew apples and strawberries west, and a migrant labor force from the Ozarks went with it.
Those legacies still tie to current life in the stories we remember, the traditions still in practice, and our world as it evolves.
One example is the Fruit Experiment Station in Mountain Grove, which began in 1899 by an act of the Missouri legislature. It’s still dedicated to the advancement and improvement of the Missouri fruit crop industry, as its website puts it. Academic research also involves elderberries, which are being studied for their potential health benefits. And that ties to an interest in local food.
It’s something Wes Murphy, a third-generation apple grower, sees at Murphy Orchard outside Marionville. In addition to apples, he grows strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, peaches and more. A tip: They also have fantastic apple cider slushies.
"There's a huge push for going back — know your farmer, know the produce, know how the produce is managed or treated," Murphy said. "There's definitely been a push for that. So there's a lot of you know, younger customers coming in like that. We have a lot of return customers over the years. Some come from a lot of different states, all the way down to Texas, and different places, and they make an annual trip every year, certain times of the year."
The story I want to leave you with today isn’t about fruit at all. It’s about nuts. Black walnuts, in fact, which in my mind are the best modern-day equivalent to what the Missouri Ozarks’ fruit exports once were.
Hammons Black Walnuts of Stockton processes and sends nuts far from the Ozarks. The four-generation family business began in 1946 when grocer Ralph Hammons began buying walnuts from locals.
Nearly 80 years later, people still gather nuts and take them to hulling stations, where machinery separates the soft outer layer from the nut. Gatherers are paid based on how many pounds brought in. This year, I’m told Hammons expects to collect between 12–15 million pounds, many which end up at big box stores across the country.
And it all begins at hulling stations like the one in Hurley, where David Christenson has hulled black walnuts for more than 20 years.
"It's almost like a family reunion down here," Christenson said. "You'll have someone in here go, 'Well, I haven't seen you in 20 years, or I haven't seen you in 30 years.' "
"It's almost like community thing," he said. "When they get down here, everybody becomes very friendly."
Notable MO-ments is made possible by a grant from the Missouri Humanities Council.
