When I was growing up, my father, Ed had taught me how to grow tomatoes in our back field. I remember the excitement when he taught me how to start and then ride our 1939 Ferguson tractor. We actually still have the tractor here at the nursery. After I tilled the field with the tractor, I would plant several hundred tomato plants in the field. My father had his secret mix of fertilizer that he made from dried blood meal, some dehydrated cow-manure, some cotton seed meal, and probably a few other things that I still don't know what he used. We planted quite a few different varieties of tomatoes. He told me how it was better planting more than one variety because it spread out the yield. Who wanted one hundred bushel of tomatoes at the same time? He would say, "If you look at the tag each variety says days to mature. When you plant tomatoes with different days, you spread out your yield."
The varieties that we planted were Jetstar (I loved that name...even built a go-cart and called it Jetstar), Supersonic, and Ramapo. Since we generally planted what was left over after the season for selling the plants was over we would sometimes substitute Beefsteak or Better Boy, and once in a we planted some without the tags. I wasn't overly happy when a cherry tomato was planted. The reason being that I sold the tomatoes in front of our store, and for some reason at the time, no-one wanted cherry tomatoes.
Planting a tomato is extremely easy. I think my success ratio had to be close to 100% since I never remember losing any plants. I would use the tractor to may a trough in the ground. In the trough I would drop the started plants and then go back and pull soil around the plant. Tomatoes are very forgiving. They will send roots anywhere along the stem that is covered by soil. Since then I've read where your supposed to cover the first few leaves, or remove any flowers that are on the plant, but I really don't think it matters. I didn't think about that when I planted them as a kid, and they all took root. We were lucky in that the field was blessed with ample sunshine. Tomatoes and most vegetables need an ample amount of light to get them to produce lots of fruit.
When the weather warmed up, the tomatoes started to grow, but unfortunately the weeds seemed to be even happier than the tomatoes. (maybe it was that secret ingredient in dad's fertilizer). Dad then taught me all about hoes. Hey I was only seven so get your mind out of the gutter. The hoe is a tool that you use to remove the weeds that are growing around the tomato. It has a flat blade that you use to chop into the soil. You also break up the soil around the plant, and just by loosening the soil, you remove the existing weeds, and keep new weeds from starting. When you have hundreds of plants in the ground hoeing can be strenuous work. I remember getting my first blisters by hoeing the field.
We used to let the tomato plants grow horizontally along the ground. Some of the fruit would touch the ground and would rot. I remember the first time we got tomato cages. You would place one cage over the top of the plant and the plant would grow up into the cage. The metal rings of the cage would keep the tomato sturdy. No staking was needed. This was a wonder, and my yield increased approximately 30% from reducing the loss from rot. We used our cages for many years. They may not have looked nice after five years, but they still worked.
The tomatoes started to ripen around the fourth of July. When I first started I would bring the tomatoes up to the front of the store on my wagon. Later we had got these electric carts that I would load the buckets onto, and then dad would drive the tomatoes up for me. When I turned eleven I got to drive the cart myself. I remember picking lots of tomatoes. The foliage of tomatoes will actually turn your hands yellow if you pick the fruit off of hundreds of plants. It does wash off, but I thought that was really cool at the time. The plants have a distinctive smell, and its strange, but the other day I was sorting tomatoes on one of our benches and the smell brought these memories back so clearly that I just had to share some of this with you.
I grew these tomatoes for almost ten years. The amazing thing is that I paid for half of my college education with those tomatoes. I learned quite a bit in those years. Thanks Dad!
Oh yeah, I forgot...tomatoes for throwing...when summer hit, the tomatoes would need to be picked everyday. Once in a while a friend would help. It was almost like a mini-treasure hunt. We would walk up and down each row, looking for that tell tale sign of pink to orange color. When we found one, we would grasp the tomato firmly and twist it just right to get the fruit. Sometimes there would be several next to each other. Almost like a Jack Pot. Sometimes I would find a dark brilliant red tomato. Mmmmm, I would think and knowing the ripe tomatoes are a bit softer I would gently grasp it, and put it on the top of the bucket. Sometimes I would get to that tomato a day too late, and I would grasp it and squish, my fingers would push into an overly ripe fruit...Yuck...I'd put the tomato to the side and save it for that right moment a bit later. I'd hear a whoosh and realize that my friend just tried to hit me with an over-ripe tomato. Little did he know that I had been saving a pile of them just for the right moment. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, splat...My aim wasn't extremely good, but when I have a pile of ammo, my odds have increased dramatically. We had quite a few laughs in that tomato field. When I first had my tomato stand, it was pretty close to Springfield Avenue. Every morning the tomatoes had to be checked to make sure there were no bad ones. We used to take the bad ones and put them in a bucket. Traffic on our street was quite a bit lighter than it is now. Sometimes we would take the bad ones and throw them at the occasional truck passing by. What a great target they made. We did stop that behavior after one of the truck drivers stopped and chased us, but we still laughed about it later.
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