Some say it is insane to spend carbon (planting, cultivating, herbicides, fertilizers and pesticides, plus transportation) to grow something that is then converted back into fuel - the same fuel that grew the corn.Įthanol critics argue that corn production represents not only a net loss of calories (that is, if you add it all up, it takes more energy to produce the ethanol than the ethanol delivers), but also that intensive corn growth is hard on land, unfriendly to wildlife habitat, and a prop to a bloated and highly processed American food industry that is neither healthy nor sustainable. If you want to get into an argument that will leave you more confused than enlightened, ask farmers and energy experts about the rationality of ethanol - converting corn into fuel for automobiles (and other useful byproducts). Iowa has 40, followed by Illinois, Nebraska, Minnesota, Indiana, and then South Dakota. and their distribution falls out exactly on state production lines. That’s where he hauls most of his annual harvest. There is an ethanol plant nearby, one of 13 in South Dakota. He’s one corn farmer in a state that grows about 5 percent of the nation’s corn. He acts locally and doesn’t have much time to think nationally or globally about questions that often seem like abstractions when you’re just trying to make a living. Although he was a thoughtful and respectful man, Lowrie made it clear in his quiet way that the larger Pollan arguments don’t worry him much. Farmers would not grow corn if on average it did not enable them to make a living by doing so, even if a significant portion of that income comes in support checks from the USDA. Lowrie said, “Well, I grow corn here and am able to make it cash flow.” I had no answer to that. He listened politely and did not - as happened when I interviewed a well-known Great Plains Christian conservative radio talk show personality about the same questions a few days later - sputter and denounce Pollan out of hand. As noncommittally as I could, I asked him what he thought about the main lines of the Pollan argument - that we produce so much corn in America that we have to constantly scramble to invent new ways to use it that the whole corn economy is dependent on government subsidies for a product that has to be taxpayer supported to cash flow and that in most cases it costs more to produce a bushel of corn than the corn earns on the market - thus requiring subsidy (these days, usually by way of crop insurance) to make up the difference. I waited to channel my inner Michael Pollan until the end of the interview. “But after that and now it’s just a gig.” “Well, maybe for the first year or so,” he said, with a sheepish smile. I asked him if he takes pride driving by the Corn Palace knowing that the entire exterior is adorned with corn he grew specially for the project. Lowrie has had the corn pigment contract for five years. He’s had to buy specialized equipment (“from yesteryear”) to harvest the yields. He is a little sensitive about the cost of the contract, but he assured me that he’d prosper more and save a ton of time and fuss if he just grew the usual field corn of eastern South Dakota. The era when local farmers donated the corn to grace the walls of the palace is long over. Lowrie is paid for supplying the corn, of course. It was windy so we sat in Brett’s pickup to talk about his contribution to the Corn Palace palate. I had lunch at a local Mexican restaurant to make sure I ingested some corn meal on my pilgrimage, then drove out to the stubble field, dusted with light snow. The Lowries farm is in disconnected fields in several directions from Mitchell, but Brett Lowrie’s home is a few miles due west of town. and is now in his fifth year raising maze for the Corn Palace. The danger is that corn intended to be red or purple or black will be cross-pollinated with other pigments by the winds of the plains and the result will be variegated, what is usually called “Indian corn.” Wanting to learn more about this, I went to see the provider of the colored cobs, Brett Lowrie, a local farmer.īrett Lowrie farms about 10 miles west of Mitchell, S.D. Corn cross pollinates when it is grown in dense proximity. It is a long way from a roadside attraction dedicated to corn in southeast South Dakota to the mucilage of a $47 billion corn industrial complex that makes maize barely recognizable as food.īack in Mitchell, the town of 15,660 that is home to the kernel-adorned temple, adorning the mosaics with all the vibrancy they deserve, at least a dozen different shades of corn must be grown and gathered at the base of the Corn Palace. This is the second of a two-part feature about the intersection of agriculture, business and culture at a place called the Corn Palace in the southeast corner of South Dakota.
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