CELERY AT KALAMAZOO. 



37 



of green about it is unmarketable. Supposing our 

 plant has made its first growth nicely, its waving fo- 

 liage supported by the thick, broad stems peculiar 

 to our deep, black soil, no matter if it be not quite 

 so tall as we could wish, it will grow taller but not 

 thicker under the blanching process. Armed with 

 a great hoe, with a blade twelve or more inches long, 

 we pull the muck lightly toward the plant, taking 

 care that the dirt shall not fall into the heart. 



In about five days, if all goes well, we repeat the 

 operation, raising the earth almost to the celery 

 leaves, carefully keeping the bottom broad and firm- 

 ing the bank so that the rain will not easily wash it 

 down, and if the big hoe won't do it this time, we 

 must use spade or shovel. Three days later, and the 

 bank is raised two inches more and gently pressed 

 against the plant, but not too hard or the white 

 stalks will rust. 



The celery will now be ready to harvest in from 

 two to five days, depending partly on the weather 

 and partly on the variety of the plant. 



Another method of blanching (said to have origi- 

 nated here) is in common use, known as "board 

 blanching." For the process are used inch boards 

 free from knot-holes, 12 or 16 feet long, 10 or 12 

 inches wide; these are laid flat along the rows, one 

 edge just touching the plants. Two men astride 

 the boards raise them by the outside edges, hold 

 them in place with their feet, while they lift up and 

 straighten the stems. The boards are then fastened 

 two and one-half inches apart by means of stout 

 wire hooks or slips of board with notches sawed at 

 the required distance. After the boards are fas- 

 tened earth is drawn against the bottom, and at the 

 ends of the row a little grass or earth is used to shut 

 out the light and air. 



The celery being ready for market, all over the 

 marshes are men, women and boys, pulling, then 

 stripping off the outer stalks with marvelous quick- 

 ness, trimming the root into shape, or lugging it to 

 the little wash-houses that dot the field. In these 

 wash-houses are a big zinc tank and a bunching 

 table, and the spotless plants are tied in bunches, a 

 dozen in each. 



Some of the larger growers ship directly from their 

 gardens, but usually the celery is taken to the com- 

 mission house, and there packed according to the 

 orders received, five to thirty dozen in a box. Last 

 season there were upwards of fifty firms shipping 

 celery, and their average weekly shipment, by careful 

 estimate, was placed at 50,000 dozens. Most of the 

 celery goes from here by express, but some of the 

 larger shippers have agents at various central points 

 to whom they ship by car-load lots, refrigerator cars 



being used to transport the product in good condition. 



In 1887 and 1888, the sale of Kalamazoo celery 

 was injured by a combination organized here to hold 

 up the price, but this combination broke in 1888, and 

 during the past season Kalamazoo celery, forced on 

 the market at low prices, by its large size and un- 

 ecjualed flavor, soon created such a demand as to 

 raise prices in the fall as high as during the combi- , 

 nation. 



"Yes, yes," observes Mr. Pessimist, as with cor- 

 rugated brow and puffed-out lip he gazes over the 

 landscape, " how long is this celery business going 

 to last ? Your land must run out, and what then ? 

 Other marshes will have to be used." 



With "a smile that is childlike and bland" we 

 answer, "Our Hollander friends are intimately ac- 

 quainted with the virtues of good stable manure, and 

 pay large prices for it, eschewing fancy fertilizers. 



"Moreover, our newly reclaimed land does not 

 raise the best celery, for positi\'e proof of which, 

 Mr. Pessimist, you will find in our county records a 

 lease of tracts of land that have raised celery for 

 the last ten years now rented for a term of years at 

 $75 per acre annual rent." 



Quoth Mr. Pessimist, with under lip out more than 

 ever, "The fools are not all dead j-et." To which 

 we reply modestly, "Neither are our $75 celery 

 gardens." 



Mr. Pessimist owns sundr}' acres of sour cold 

 swamp, some three rods square of \\'hich he tried 

 to root up. with the aid of his unfortunate hired 

 man. who dabbled some to-be-pitied celery plants 

 into the mud with an old trowel. Mr. P., remem- 

 bering the pale and aguish appearance of those 

 plants, stalks majestically out of sight. 



There are several requisites to successful celery 

 culture besides the presence of marsh muck. A light 

 deposit of muck above cla}' sub-soil will not answer. 

 The black muck must be deep. But this must be 

 drained to three feet above water line. It also must 

 be so situated that it will not flood in a wet season. 



The area in celery is estimated at S(3me three thou- 

 sand acres, and the growers are agreed that there 

 is some peculiar mineral element in our marshes that 

 gives the product its fine fla\ or. All the manure that 

 can be obtained is used, often to the depth of three 

 inches, or as much as can well be dug under. Cel- 

 ery matures here earlier than at any other point in 

 the United States, except in the far south. 



Celery is stored for winter by standing it in earth 

 in long, low sheds, well co\'ered with straw or other 

 anti-frost material, and with enough stove heat to 

 keep it above the freezing-point : and so success- 

 fully is this done tliat wintered celer\' of fair samples 



