Gonzo farmer John Peterson
January 2006 | Naturally Tasty
The Real Dirt on Farmer John
by Andrea Blum
The first time I encountered John Peterson, a third-generation farmer from Caledonia, Illinois, I was in the Castro district of San Francisco. Former Vice-president Al Gore was there, too. Beaming and beardless, Gore stood behind a podium on the Castro Theater stage, looking rather jolly with his added weight and his pear-like girth. Only hours before, I’d heard him deliver a commanding speech at Fort Mason on the perils of global warming as part of the UN’s World Environmental Day. Now he was introducing and praising Taggart Siegel’s latest documentary film, The Real Dirt on Farmer John, with the same loquaciousness that he practiced in the 2000 election. Only in this speech, I sensed the passion for his own childhood farm flowing through his veins.
Not a moment too soon, the curtain opened, the organist disappeared under the parquets, and I was introduced to a curious man who, like many farmers I know, loves dirt, metal, and tractors. But when I saw John Peterson wearing a dress with an orange boa and sitting sidesaddle on an old red International tractor in one of the opening scenes, I begrudgingly thought I was in for a gay slapstick-farming flick.
As it turned out, I was wrong. It’s not a film about a gay farmer. To the audience that reads this and to myself, I apologize for making preconceived generalizations and judgments. It seems it was the intention of the director and Peterson to push the flamboyant side of this farmer, as if they wanted to provoke a reaction like mine and then proceed to dispel it. As Peterson asks in the beginning of the film, what are you supposed to do when you live “in a rural community where you aren’t welcome because you are kind of different?”
Peterson, who wrote the script and is the star of this odyssey, shares himself with complete candor as he plots the shelf life of an average American farm. In a chronological storyline, we see the rise, the fall, and resurrection of not only Peterson’s farm but also of Peterson, himself. Through footage of his idyllic childhood starting in the 1950s (captured by his mother, Anna) to grainy images (from Siegel’s own archives) of the farm auction and sale in the 80s, the two filmmakers created a time capsule that captures an unsung epic of American history. Siegel transforms his archival material with sound, and weaves film, video and stills together in a seamless edit. The ensemble serves as homage to Farmer John’s mother and father, who worked their entire lives to maintain the farm and so they could leave a legacy for their son. Sadly, through a series of misadventures, John Peterson, the last in the family line, loses the farm.
But then he gets it back. And, in between, we meet his girlfriends — one who debuts as a “Bubble Bee” and another who invents a Pig Newton cookie to sell to pay off the farm’s debts. We get to know his 83-year-old mother, his aunts, his uncles, and we travel with him to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, on a life-affirming journey inspired by writer Henry Miller. We meet ridiculous neighbors who plot his demise by spreading rumors of satanic worship and ritual killings. We also see the traditional social fabric of the Midwest unravel. And, as history plays itself out, we witness other farmers lose or sell their farms, and subdivisions grow to replace them. We see grown men cry about lost dirt. Farmer John confronts his fears and the prejudices of neighbors, and, in the end, he wins. “It’s a film that cuts through all boundaries, Peterson told me in a phone call from Amsterdam. “There are so many themes that feel universal. No one fells alienated. The mission was not to tell people how to think or feel. It was just to tell a story.”
The real dirt is this: Peterson prevails by changing direction from chemical-dependent monoculture farming — based on set government prices and subsidies — to an organic, biodynamic model with direct links to the customer. He wins by gaining the respect of most of his neighbors by showing them a way to resurrect their lost connection to the land. Peterson’s Angelic Organics is now one of the largest Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) programs in the U.S., with more than 1250 shareholders who support his work and eat his food.
When the lights of the Castro Theater slowly came up, John walked to the stage to answer questions. In a manifestation of “community-supported filmmaking,” members of Farmer John’s human harvest sprouted from the velvet seats: ex girlfriends, former employees and former interns stood up to say hello. Even the ex-Bubble Bee was there.
The film made me think of other farmers who are trying to find ways to keep their farms multigenerational. For Peterson, it takes total dedication. “It’s also about finding an edge,” he said, “and the CSA model is an edge, besides being a huge asset to society.” Kevin Lunny in Point Reyes is a third-generation farmer whose family went from the dairy monoculture in the 1950s to the organic grass-fed beef ranch of today. He found his own edge. He also grows oysters in Drake’s Estero and brought back the cultivation of the green-globe artichokes that used to blanket the land. Point Reyes, he told me, was the state’s artichoke capitol until the 1950’s, when everybody “went dairy.” He found the rootstock and planted 1,500 artichokes — farming the same species his grandfather tended long before Point Reyes became a park. These days, Lunny is trying to find ways for his 17-year-old triplets to stay on the farm. “It’s a lot more work,” he said referring to organic agriculture, biodiversity and the niche market, “but it’s the only way we can afford to stay here.”
The Real Dirt on Farmer John opens at the Century Presidio Theater in SF on January 27.
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