Reviews
The “red things” flowed Ed Nolt’s New Holland Baler: “Everything Just Went Right.” By Allan W. Shirk (Masthof Press, 2015, 131 pp. $20 U.S. $27.32 Cdn. Available in hardcover or paperback from New Holland Area Historical Society Museum or by mail order from Lancaster Mennonite Historical Society)
W
ho’d have thought a modest Old Order Mennonite would change the face of
farming. Though many may not know the name Ed Nolt, just about everyone in agriculture knows the hay baler that came from his hands. His mechanisms made the baler a practical possibility and a resounding commercial success. Nolt, who never went beyond 8th grade, was blessed with mechanical skills and creative genius. As Allan Shirk writes in this biography, he had a gift for “expressing through metal what was in his mind.” As a result, thousands of farmers have found it easier to feed the world. Shirk came upon the story in 1964 when writing a student paper at Eastern Mennonite College. Nolt agreed to be interviewed but modestly stipulated that only Shirk’s professor be allowed to read the final version. For decades it remained unread by anyone else. When Don Horning of the New Holland Area Historical Society learned of the manuscript he realized Shirk was probably the first person ever to interview Ed Nolt about the famous hay baler. Surely that interview needed to be preserved. After more research and meetings with family members, Shirk expanded his early assignment into this book, and we are richer for it. Nolt had taken over his father’s custom threshing business in 1929. He soon realized he needed a better
The Marketplace January February 2016
way to handle the straw his combine left scattered behind in customers’ fields. It was one thing to collect the hay and pack it into bales, but something else was needed to tie the bales while the machine moved through the field. On existing balers the continuous stroking of the plunger packing hay or straw into the bale chamber interfered with the tying process. He had to stop the plunger action long enough to tie the bale while it was still under compression, and needed a knotter that could tie the bales faster. With characteristic ingenuity he came up with the devices to make it happen. Once he had a satisfactory version, Nolt worked with a local farm implement dealer to produce limited quantities of the baler. Success was just around the corner. Around this time some ambitious entrepreneurs bought the New Holland Machine Co., a small shop that had fallen on hard times in the Depression. They sensed that Nolt’s improved baler held promise for their reorganized company. In 1940 Nolt sold his concept to them and soon the baler was in mass production. It would become their major product and “key to their profitability.” Nolt, the brilliant but uneducated “blacksmith,” ended up working for New Holland, alongside college-trained engineers, for more than 40 years. “This was the beginning of a new chapter for the town,” writes Shirk. “In a few years, New Holland would provide jobs for many in nearby communities, and connect it to the rest of the world.” It “put the town of New Holland on the world map,” says Don Horning in the Foreword. 20
As Nolt prospered he began receiving requests for money. He was fortunate to have the wise counsel of George Delp, New Holland’s president, who helped him hold together his rural Mennonite community ethic with the unlikely world of corporate success. The book chronicles Nolt’s discomfort with being known as a millionaire. “I want to give my money away, so they can’t say I’m a millionaire,” he said. Nolt set up a foundation to formalize his already generous support for charitable causes. He remained frugal but finally adjusted somewhat to his economic status. When his wife hesitated to buy some new furniture Nolt assured her it would be paid for by all those “red things” (balers) flowing out of town on railroad cars. “Despite his wealth, Ed never forgot who he was or the people he belonged to,” writes Shirk. “Whenever there was a financial need in his congregation, Ed gave freely.” Even in retirement, while fishing on the Chesapeake Bay, Nolt kept churning out inventions, like a fish chummer to make bait. When he died in 1992 he held 61 federal patents. Over the years the U.S. patent office became familiar with the name Ed Nolt. Intrigued, they invited him to Washington. Nolt declined, so the office came to him. Eight patent examiners visited New Holland to meet this mechanical marvel and honor his contributions to agriculture. To the end, he remained a humble Mennonite, though one with a mind of a genius. — Wally Kroeker
