THE LAST OF THE HILL FARMS

Vermont photographer Richard W. Brown pays tribute to the vanished landscape he once roamed and to its people, his friends.

Early April, West Barnet, 1973. “One early morning I climbed up on a hill to take a picture of this farm, and [the owner, John Somers] comes out the back door,” Brown recalls. “I thought for sure he was going to tell me to leave, but instead he said, ‘When you’re all done, come on in and have some breakfast with us.’ That’s how they were.”

Somers’ Hill Road, West Barnet, 1972. John and Gladys Somers’s farmhouse sits on a hill in the distance; their son Hezzie’s house is in the foreground. “There were always grandchildren around John and Gladys’s home,” Brown says. “It was just a very welcoming place.”

Gladys and John Somers, West Barnet, 1971. “John was missing a few fingers from different farming accidents,” Brown recalls. “He would always hold his hands up to show you, like he was kind of proud of it. It didn’t slow him down much.” heron Boyd was the kind of Vermonter that Richard Brown appreciated. An aging farmer with a few heifers and a cornfield he still harvested every autumn, Boyd lived alone in the same Quechee house where he was born in 1901. When Brown, then a struggling young photographer, met Boyd in the mid-1970s, he found a man leading a life more in tune with the 19th century than the 20th. Boyd didn’t own a car; his home had no electricity or running water.

“Everything about him was from a different time period— even the way he talked,” says Brown. “He’d be telling me how he had to get the corn in before it snowed, and he would say, ‘The snow hinders.’ Nobody talks like that. I’d get in my car in Peacham and it was 1978; when I got out at his place, it was 1878. I was enthralled.”

The Northeast Kingdom that Brown, a Massachusetts native, found when he moved there in 1971 was still a patchwork of small farms where men and women worked the land much as their ancestors had. They milked maybe 20 cows, not 200. They preferred animal power over machinery. But it was obvious to Brown—and probably the farmers, too—that this way of life was coming to a close. So, over the next decade and a half, he made documenting it the focus of his work.

“I looked for markers for the right farm,” he says. “If there was smoke coming out of the chimney in the middle of summer, you knew they cooked with wood. Or you’d see the draft horses around the farm buildings. Those are the places I searched out. And a lot of those people became my friends.”

Brown later found work that would take him around the world, shooting elaborate gardens for lavish coffee table books. Yet it’s still those thousands of black-and-white photos he made in his adopted state, often with his bulky 8-by-10 camera, that he’s most proud of. And this past December, with the help of his wife, Susan McClellan, a graphic designer, he finally realized his dream of compiling them into a book, titled The Last of the Hill Farms: Echoes of Vermont’s Past (David R. Godine, Publisher).

“I hope readers will see I had such high regard for the people I photographed,” says Brown, now 72. “I really liked them and felt that what they were doing was a beautiful thing, even though I don’t think they thought of it that way. I miss that period and the people back then who were a part of my life.” —Ian

Aldrich

above : Filtering Syrup, Barnet, 1977. When Brown saw Katherine Roy filtering maple syrup at her farm, “all I could think of was Vermeer and his paintings, because of the light,” he says. “It was so beautiful.” right : Light Brahmas, Peacham, 1975. This was Brown’s re-creation of a 19th-century image he’d seen years before, of a deceased great blue heron pinned to the side of a barn. Brown butchered the chickens himself and notes, “They eventually got eaten.”

Coffee with Grandmother, Quechee, 1977. Theron Boyd with a portrait of his grandmother, Mary Cowdray, who raised him and left him the c. 1786 homestead in her will. Though Boyd rebuffed offers from developers, at the end of his life he turned his property over to preservationists; it’s now a state historic site.

Stablemates, Quechee, 1978. “I’d taken Theron to the grocery store that day. He always wore his fancy hat when he went into town,” says Brown. “SpaghettiO’s—he’d buy probably 20 cans of those. It’s what he loved to eat.”

To see more of Brown’s work, go to newengland.com/hill-farms or visit his website, rwbrownphotography.com.

Housekeeper, Kirby, 1973.

“People think these images just happen,” says Brown. “Not at all. For this one I asked the housekeeper to come out and pose for me. I figured out where I wanted her to stand, but then the sheep, being curious, wanted in the scene. I wanted them in the background. So I got some grain and poured it out, then ran back, vaulted a fence, and clicked the shutter. I had to move fast because the sheep ate fast. It took a few times.”