Electrical Elysium

One afternoon last week a white-thatched, 72-year-old Virginia farmer named Jesse Hughes played proud host to Secretary of the Interior Ickes, Virginia's Governor Peery, Rural Electrification Administrator Morris L. Cooke, other political bigwigs. Twenty-two miles out from Washington to his place in Fairfax County, they went to inaugurate with due ceremony a completely electrified farm equipped under Government auspices.

To entertain delegates to the Third World Power Conference in Washington next month, the Rural Electrification Administration sought to demonstrate just what electricity could do for a U. S. farm. From 62 applicants it selected Farmer Hughes and his Rosedale Dairy Farm to receive the benefits of this free experiment. Virginia Public Service Co. donated its power, made sure everybody knew about it (see cut). Members of the National Electrical Manufacturers Association supplied $5,000 worth of equipment without charge.

On the front porch of the 200-year-old farmhouse, Secretary Ickes pulled a handle on an electric switch box, announced: "I now start the flow of power into the arteries of this farmstead." Actually he did nothing of the sort because the switch box was only a ceremonial dummy and power was already flowing through Rosedale Farm. Inside the farmhouse were electric clocks, an air-cooling system, a vacuum cleaner with headlights, refrigerator, dishwasher, food-mixer, curling irons. In the farm shop lathes and tools were electrically operated. Wood was cut by an electric saw. In the brooder house chicks were warmed in an electric incubator, while in the poultry house hens were urged to extra efforts by ultraviolet ray lamps. Hogs were kept in their wallow by an electric fence which gave them a 90-volt jolt if they touched it. An electric sprinkler system kept the cabbage patch damp.

Greatest REA triumph was the ramshackle old cow barn with its dirt floor. To protect the 70 cows from flies there were electrically-charged copper screens. When a fly tried to get through the 1/2in. openings, there was a little flash, a ping --and the dead fly fell into a metal trough at the bottom of the window. Each cow had its individual drinking fountain, which spouted water when nuzzled. Cows were cooled by electric fans, clipped by electric razors, milked by electric machines. The hay they ate was hoisted into the trough by electric motors. The milk they gave was immediately electrically cooled to 40DEG, electrically separated. "Everything is wired," cried Electrified Farmer Hughes, "except the hired men." But an electric siren called them whenever Farmer Hughes needed them.

This year Farmer Hughes, in return for being on constant exhibition, will get the use of all these electrical devices free. Next year, if he chooses, he can buy them at reduced prices, operate them for $18 a month. Every gadget had last week been thoroughly mastered except an electric razor. Farmer Hughes's 31-year-old son claimed he had cut himself while using it.

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