Fifty years ago, a newcomer to Franklin County undertook a monumental project. For those who admire family farms, self-sufficient lifestyles, and superb cinematic experiences, those elements are rolled into one thanks to longtime Bernardston resident Rawn Fulton. His film, “Root Hog or Die,” is garnering renewed attention as it reaches the half-century mark.

Filmed in Bernardston, Leyden, Colrain, Ashfield, and Guilford, Vermont, “Root Hog or Die” follows the arc of one agricultural year, starting with Nellie and Stubby Howe and their Guilford sugaring operation. The film shows horses Jerry and Maude pulling the sap collecting scoot, powerfully moving the precious liquid in a time-honored way; in another segment, Leyden farmer Louis Black shares his thoughts. The film is chock-full of such treasures, and locals can now view a remastered version with sharper images and clearer sound than were possible in 1973.

The film aired on public television to great acclaim in the late 1970s. While still in their twenties, Fulton and a colleague, Newbold “Terry” Noyes, spent countless hours in barnyards and farm houses interviewing people belonging to a cohort that has all but vanished. Residents of Franklin County and other niches around the U.S. proudly support family farms, but a way of life that used to be common is, in fact, now quite rare.

Noyes was the sound engineer and interviewer; Fulton did the camera work. Filmed in black and white and running just under an hour, the film evokes the ethic behind the phrase “root hog or die,” referring to the practice of turning pigs loose in the woods to fend for themselves; the expression elicits images of self-reliance.

How Rawn Fulton landed in Franklin County is a story unto itself. His wife Cynthia was passing through Bernardston in 1972 when she spotted a sign, “United Farm Agency,” that reminded her of signs she and her husband had seen in other parts of the U.S. She greeted Joe Poirier, the UFA representative, and learned that he was familiar with local real estate. Saying that she and her husband were interested in finding a place in the area, she asked if Poirier knew of anything that might suit their needs?

Poirier’s reply prompted Cynthia to phone her husband. “I think you’d better come up here,” she said. The Fultons moved from Brooklyn, New York, and have lived in Bernardston ever since, raising a family and creating an art school, among other accomplishments.

The Fultons began married life as Peace Corps volunteers in a remote jungle village in India. The Indian people the Fultons lived and worked with were descended from the Adivasi, India’s indigenous people, and practiced tribal agriculture combined with a hunting lifestyle, as did their ancestors for thousands of years.

Rawn Fulton was no stranger to farming. He grew up in Newtown, Connecticut, when it was still largely rural, and was enormously influenced by his next-door neighbors. “The Hribnaks ran a small, self-sufficient farm,” said Fulton. “I was shaped by playing in their barnyard; I helped with haying. I’ve always felt the agrarian, self-sufficient approach to life deeply,” he said, adding, “It’s in my bones.”

It’s not surprising, then, that when Rawn Fulton attended a Bernardston cook-out hosted by Bill and Marsha Pratt, he was primed to say yes after meeting a fellow named David Berelson, who asked, “Do you want to make a film about farming?” Berelson, of independent means, was developing the Crumpin Fox Golf Course and other projects; in order to acquire parcels of land to realize his vision, he bought farms from people who’d lived there for generations.

Understandably, farmers were reluctant to sell their land, even for generous sums. Berelson hit upon the idea of offering to purchase other places where they could continue farming, which led to him buying farms he wanted to make way for his project while providing alternate parcels in the hopes that everyone could be reasonably satisfied. It was quite a gamble, but it paid off.

Berelson got to know many of the farmers and was greatly impressed by their traditions, wisdom, and connections to the land. ”Berelson recognized that they represented a wonderful way of life that was disappearing,” said Fulton, “and that we’d lose it forever if we didn’t make a film.”

For Fulton, it was an assignment made in heaven. “It was like I got to talk to the Hribnaks again, as well as my ancestors. It was a pivotal time; the farmers (we filmed) represented an entire way of life that has rapidly receded.” Fulton noted that “every generation represents a changing of the guard; that’s only natural. But we witnessed the rapid change of an entire system.”

Funded by Berelson, Fulton and Noyes – whom Fulton had known at prep school and in college – set about interviewing farmers, many of them in their seventies. “The film is full of instinctively wise remarks,” said Fulton. One scene shows a farmer plowing with horses as a voiceover is heard: “We’re timeless people. We don’t do things eight to five. We do them as we go along.”

When asked how he and Noyes chose people to interview, Fulton replied: “We didn’t. Berelson reached out to Bill Pratt’s father, Louis, an old farmer who also sold antiques. Louis was a jack-of-all-trades in the traditional New England sense. He knew everybody, and gave us a list of names.” But the filmmakers were warned about the tendency for New England farmers to come across as taciturn, laconic, and even sullen. And running a family farm is a lot of work; farmers are always busy. “We were told not to expect much.”

Fulton and Noyes started calling people on the list; when some declined, the young filmmakers “learned not to ask,” said Fulton. “Instead, we’d go to a farm, get out of the car, and say hello.” That worked better. “Once (the farmers) realized we were sincerely interested, they couldn’t wait to talk to us. It was like they’d been waiting their whole lives to tell somebody, but no one had asked.”

Partway through the project, Berelson ran into financial constraints and reluctantly pulled the funding plug. “We shelved it,” said Fulton, “and moved on to other things.” But it seems “Root Hog or Die” was destined to succeed.

“Terry and I had the good fortune of taking classes from (famed cultural anthropologist) Margaret Mead at Columbia (University),” said Fulton. “What a privilege that was.” The connection later proved useful. During the societal tumult of the late 1960s, Noyes and Fulton joined college students around the nation in cutting classes in favor of attending protests. When Noyes showed up to take his final exam in Mead’s class, he had missed significant information, so instead of attempting to complete a final for which he was wholly unprepared, he used the time to write a personal letter to Dr. Mead, letting her know what her class had meant to him. Graduate students who were tasked with grading exams handed the personal letter to Dr. Mead. “His was the only final she read,” said Fulton. “Dr. Mead loved it. She gave Terry an A.”

In 1977, after the filmmakers lost funding, Noyes reached out to Mead, who was on the National Endowment for the Arts board of directors. She remembered Noyes due to his heartfelt letter, and expressed interest in the project. She viewed a rough cut, loved it, and agreed to help. “Dr. Mead wrote a glowing recommendation” said Fulton, “and we received from the NEA half of the funding we needed.” Another quarter came from public television sources, and the remainder from the Greenfield Community College (GCC) Foundation.

“In highlighting one agrarian year,” said Fulton, “we start with sugaring, then move into planting, haying, and harvesting. We wanted to show what happens on a small family farm.” Yet the filmmakers didn’t know that they were capturing the end of an era in more ways than one.

In one scene, gas prices are advertised on pumps: 41 cents for high-test, 36 cents for regular. “That was the summer of 1973,” said Fulton. “That fall, we had our first gas crisis, a pivotal point in history.” Gas prices rose to over a dollar per gallon. The film captures many such aspects of a pivotal time in our nation and world.

There are many stories about how the film might have faded into obscurity, but kept coming up for air. Thanks to Fulton’s persistence, as well as support from others–including Dan Keller and Chuck Light of locally based Green Mountain Post Films–“Root Hog or Die” lives on.

One behind-the-scenes vignette recounts how a specialist in conveying film to digital format – a fellow named Charlie Churchman – transferred the masterpiece from rolls of film to video in the very barn where Churchman’s father had pursued agrarian activities. “Root Hog or Die” was given a new lease on life over the course of three days in the barn’s hayloft, which Churchman had rehabbed into a high-tech studio.

“There were so many coincidences like that, things you could never make up,” said Fulton. Locals can view the film and hear local treasure Rawn Fulton give introductory remarks and answer questions at two events in June: at the Dickinson Library in Northfield on Friday, June 16, at 6 p.m., and at the Powers Institute in Bernardston (which houses the Historical Society and Senior Center) on Sunday, June 25 at 2 p.m.

To learn more about Fulton’s work: https://searchlightfilms.com

EvelineMacDougall is the author of “Fiery Hope.” Her cousins continue to farm the piece of land where her family has lived in Québec for ten generations. To contact: eveline@amandlachorus.org.

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