Making Extra Money With Possum Hides
When Daddy graduated from Hector High School in 1933, times were so lean that he didn't have money for a class ring. So assisted at times by younger brothers George and Ralph, he set about paying for the ring with pelts from the possums he hunted near home. Buyers from Taylor Furs and Hill Brothers paid up to 80 cents for a No. 1 pelt.
Since we occasionally hunted possums in rural Drew County, he thought it might be good for me to see how to prepare and sell the hides as he had done. And in the process, I could make a little spending money.
We'd take Old Blackie into wooded areas and stir the winter darkness till he struck a warm trail. Then by the glow of a small kerosene lantern we'd pick our way through the tangled paths the ambling marsupial had taken.
With the savory meat passed on to acquaintances who enjoyed possum and sweet taters, we dealt with the pelts at home.
Daddy cut boards for stretching the skins, fur-side in, and we scraped the undersides clean. Then with skins tacked firmly onto the boards, we hung them on the garage wall to dry. We lived on South Edwards Street in Monticello then, just east of the railroad tracks and south of the tomato packing shed and Farm Bureau store.
It took several days for the hides to dry properly, and I checked progress regularly, dreaming of the riches soon to be mine. We estimated several dollars per pelt based on escalated prices from Daddy's experiences. Surely prices had risen considerably in 20-plus years.
The appointed day came, and we removed the pelts and packaged them for shipping. Daddy wrapped them carefully in several layers of paper cut from brown paper bags secured with multiple wraps of knotted twine. The man at the Post Office apologized for having to charge so much in postage, but heavy fur meant lots of money.
We mailed the package to the Sears, Roebuck & Company headquarters in Chicago rather than selling to a fur buyer, though neither of us remembers why. But it somehow reached the right department.
Weeks passed without a response, and we wondered if our hard-earned pelts had been lost in transit. But eventually came the long-awaited reply with a note of thanks--and a check for 35 cents! Surely the original postage had been more than that.
I haven't been possum hunting in the 50 years hence, and this endeavor marked the beginning of a long string of failed entrepreneurial schemes to make extra money.
But when Failure comes, she brings a more valuable treasure than riches: experience that can't be spoiled by time or thief.
Copyright 2005 James McAlister
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