ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, September 23, 1993                   TAG: 9309230323
SECTION: NEIGHBORS                    PAGE: S-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: By JOHN A. MONTGOMERY SPECIAL TO THE ROANOKE TIMES & WORLD-NEWS
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


PICKED FRESH

The weather has been fickle.

The government has been contrary. And, for the past two years, the salary has been nil.

But in spite of these obstacles, Leas Lafayette Hill II, a.k.a. Buddy, is committed to farming cantaloupes and watermelon, sweet corn and strawberries, tomatoes and peppers.

Hill owns and operates Garrett Farms - 25 fertile acres wedged between the Roanoke River and Blue Ridge Beverage Co. in Western Roanoke County.

Most of Hill's harvest is sold during the summer, either on site or at the Farmers' Market in downtown Salem.

"I'd just as soon take the middleman out of it," says Hill, adding "Ninety-five percent of what we sell is marketed directly to the consumer."

Direct statements are typical of Hill's style, who's very much his own man. His speech and appearance reflect it.

A bush hat from Kenya blocks out the hot sun and keeps his long hair off his face; a "C.S." (the abbreviation for Confederate States) belt buckle helps hold up his jeans. This man would not be content working as a stockbroker or an accountant.

Hill is a dedicated farmer, following a profession that's increasingly difficult these days.

He admits his produce is not cheap. An eight-pound cantaloupe will bring between $2 and $2.50. And his market stall is not the first to open.

"We may not get there until 9 a.m.," Hill says, "because we pick that morning rather than the night before. We'll also pick several times during the day. It makes a difference."

Hill feels this extra care makes his produce superior.

He ran an ad in this newspaper during the summer, promoting "The Cadillac of Cantaloupes."

"It's a taste you just can't get in the store," the ad read.

A tour of Hill's acreage will include a soil analysis, an explanation of his irrigation system and weeding techniques, a sampling of any remaining crops, and the history of his barn and greenhouses. Hill enjoys discussing his farm and does so in an articulate, rapid-paced manner.

But while Hill is confident of his products and proud of his steady, loyal clientele, his business is far from a goldmine.

"The rewards are not necessarily monetary," says Hill, 40. "Farming is not a job; it's a lifestyle."

And it's in his blood.

Hill's father's father was an orchardist who worked properties throughout Virginia. His mother's father, Douglas L. Garrett, was a Norfolk and Western Railway engineer when he bought the farm in 1945. Garrett's schedule of several days on the road followed by several days off afforded him a dual career for nearly 20 years, he ran a train and the farm.

The railroad and Garrett Farms still are linked. The tracks run along one side of the property, just across the river.

Hill was initiated to the farming business as a 10-year-old in 1963 when he began helping sell vegetables from a roadside stand. Hill worked for his grandfather until the early '80s, selling as much as $20,000 worth of produce in a good July and August.

Gradually, Hill's interest turned toward cultivation. "I'm in the production and quality control end of things now," he says. "The rest of my family takes care of sales and marketing."

After graduating from Glenvar High School in 1971, Hill enrolled in the College of William & Mary. He completed his degree in horticulture at Virginia Tech in 1981.

At Tech he learned of an agricultural research position at the University of Illinois. "That's where I earned my master's degree," Hill laughs, "except that I got paid for it. I worked with 200-225 varieties of sweet corn as part of my job."

In October 1984, Hill purchased Garrett Farms. "My grandfather truly wanted to farm until he was 90," Hill says. "But his health just wouldn't let him do it." The grandfather passed away a few years ago at the age of 93.

Hill has made some improvements to the farm, including replacing the barn almost entirely by his own hand. "That barn is my Tinker Toy," Hill says.

He also has modernized the business. "I tell people the best piece of machinery I've bought for the farm is an answering machine," he says.

In the nine years Hill has owned the farm, he's faced his share of adversity - flooding in 1985 and 1992, extended droughts and governmental battles regarding zoning and building permits. Hill is unsure what effect the Spring Hollow Reservoir will have on his irrigation system, but he's wary of it.

"Sometimes I think I'm in a Catch-22 situation," Hill laments. "You try to do things right, and there seems to be some rule against it."

Hill has other interests besides farming. His wife, Debby, is a substance abuse counselor for Mental Health Services. Their son, Ian, is a 10-year-old who loves soccer and jokes.

The family lives in Salem, several miles from the farm. "That way I can lock the barn up, drive away and work stays here," Hill says.

Hill enjoys dove hunting and taking his family to the beach between farming seasons.

But the longer you talk to Hill the more you get the impression he's into farming for the long haul.

"The satisfaction of feeding people is tremendous," Hill says, preparing to tick off other advantages. He cites the plus of being your own boss and helping shape the work habits of his part-time help. "I think we've done something for the high school kids who've worked here," he says.

Hill knows there are more profitable careers. "Without family we couldn't do this," he says. His parents, Leas and Hester Hill, and Debby's parents, Ed and Louise Via, are involved in the business. "We're pretty lucky to be in a tight-knit family group," Hill says.

And whenever Hill questions his career choice, he can stand alone on his land and wait.

It won't be long before he hears the whistle of an oncoming Norfolk Southern engine, and the voice of his grandfather saying, "Son, hang in there."



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