Hulshof willing to delay politics for family farm

DIEHLSTADT, Mo. -- The sun's getting hotter in a Southeast Missouri cornfield about 900 miles from the nation's capital, and Kenny Hulshof bangs his head on a small metal roof that is shading a diesel engine. "You gon' end up tearing that tin off this building," says Bob Pemberton, who is working alongside.

Pemberton, 64, wearing his old work jeans and a flannel shirt, has never voted in his life, for anything. Hulshof, 45, is also wearing jeans but is not quite as casual in a striped, button-down shirt. The Columbia resident who once was public defender and later assistant prosecutor in Cape Girardeau County is serving his fourth term in the U.S. House of Representatives, where he votes hundreds of times every year.

But this July morning, Pemberton and Hulshof are working as closely as any congressional panel. Standing on the edge of a cornfield on the Hulshof family farm about three miles west of Charleston, they are trying to fix the center pivot -- a giant fertilizer-and-irrigation system that resembles a suspension bridge on wheels.

If the pivot is not working, the corn crop will not get enough food or water to thrive in a Missouri summer.

Scenario changes

It's been only eight months since Kenny Hulshof decided to seek the GOP nomination for governor of Missouri, but so much has changed since then. The perils of such a run were clear. Republican Secretary of State Matt Blunt -- a proven vote-getter -- was also likely to run, and whoever survived the primary would most likely face off against a sitting governor, Democrat Bob Holden.

That scenario changed completely on Nov. 22. His father, Paul Hulshof, who bought the farm with a $1,000 stake from his own father, had been treated for lung cancer earlier in the year and was scheduled to visit the doctor that day. When Kenny Hulshof, his only child, called to make sure he hadn't skipped the appointment, his mother, Geri, told him his father had collapsed and was gone.

Had the ambulance taken him to the hospital?

"No, he's gone," his mother answered. "He's dead."

Two months later, Hulshof did make an announcement: He would not run for governor in 2004. "Since Dad's passing, I've spent several weeks with my mother discussing our options," he said in a prepared statement. "We have decided to continue his legacy and actively engage in the business of farming."

Pemberton and Hulshof stare at the angle of the irrigation system's base plate.

Father's presence

Kenny Hulshof's congressional district spreads from Clark County in Missouri's northeastern corner to Camden County at the Lake of the Ozarks. But far outside the district in Southeast Missouri's Mississippi County, it's Paul Hulshof's presence that lingers largest.

At the farmhouse he lived in for more than 40 years, a portrait of Paul hangs on a wall overlooking a pair of his old slippers. At nearby Deline Seed and Chemical in Charleston, owner Smith Deline recalls the time the water pump broke on his forklift and he made up his mind that he'd have to get a new one.

The parts store didn't have it, but when Paul Hulshof heard about the pump, he drove to his shop and was back 10 minutes later with the perfect part.

"We quit makin' fun of him keeping everything after that," Deline recalled.

After years of working with Paul Hulshof, Bob Pemberton saw that ingenuity up close.

"He made a big impression on me," Pemberton said, "and I try my damnedest to be as sharp as he was. I may not be -- I know I'm not -- but he learnt me a lot of tricks."

Hulshof takes a break from working on the irrigation equipment to telephone a radio talk show on Jefferson City's KLIK.

Before weighing in on agricultural policy, Medicare and the fedayeen in Iraq, Hulshof tells the host that he's on his family's farm working with irrigation equipment. He mentions that many of the station's listeners have probably dealt with similar problems.

"Whether it gains any points, political points, I don't know. ... That's not why I do it."

After the radio interview, Hulshof heads for the cornfield.

He and Pemberton put a spare alternator on the pivot's diesel engine and hit the ignition. It starts. Hulshof grins.

But there's still a problem: Even though the engine is running and powering the generator, an electrical short is preventing the giant arm from sweeping across the field and giving the corn crop the fertilizer and water it needs.

As they search for the short, Pemberton speculates on what Hulshof's hometown newspaper would say if the congressman were electrocuted: "Kenny Hulshof, killed on his own damn farm."

Frantic life

The life of a congressman is often frantic. In Washington, debate and votes sometimes stretch long after midnight and are punctuated by the demands of committees, constituent service and fund raising. You must fight to make time for a family you might not see for days at a time.

For the first six months of this year, Hulshof spent 93 nights in the Ninth District, 52 nights in Washington and 29 nights on the farm. According to his own count, Hulshof has missed about 20 votes this year because of time spent on the farm. He said he missed the votes, which he described as largely noncontroversial, usually because he arrived in the capital on a Tuesday instead of flying over Monday night.

This spring, the family purchased a small house just down the road from his mother's home, and his wife, Renee, and their two daughters occasionally stay there with him.

But it's hard to imagine this schedule could be permanent. Sitting in the small house on Monday night, Hulshof said decisions must be made.

"Mom and I have begun to talk about ... where do we go with this business." He said that after his father's death there were three distinct phases of action: First, sorting through outstanding bills and settling estate issues. Second, he and his mother had to decide what to do in the current crop year: sell the farm, hire someone else to run it or do it themselves.

Third: what to do in the next five years, 10 or 15?

Hulshof's mother touched on that point after a Monday night at the farmhouse.

"Just so you're not neglecting your district work," she said. He promptly reassured her.

"I'm not."

Happy in the House

Next year, Hulshof is running for re-election, but bigger questions loom in the long term. Among them: What about higher office? Hulshof has twice passed on statewide runs -- for U.S. Senate in 2002 and governor in 2004 -- but has also hinted that he will make the leap eventually.

For now, he says he is comfortable with his decision to put off a gubernatorial run and is happy in the House.

"I am content where I am for the moment."

But that contentment is fleeting. His mind suddenly shifts to the center pivot and Bob Pemberton. "I wonder where he is?"

Pemberton and Hulshof meet at the barn and head out to the cornfield one more time. Hulshof sees that the base of the pivot is now sitting flat on the ground. Now they just have to make sure it stays there.

Hulshof twists one of the earth anchors -- it looks like a black iron ski pole with a loop at one end -- deep into the ground. They must chain the base in place by closing a clamp that will stretch the chain taut.

Pemberton says the maneuver will be a test to see "how stout" Hulshof is. They wrestle with the clamp for several minutes but can't close it.

Eventually, they tinker with the links of the chain to get more slack, and after a little huffing and puffing Hulshof gets it closed.

Tomorrow's decisions seem a long way off. Today's problem is solved, at least for now.

The center pivot is working again.