A Farm of Hope

By: Lauren Sarakos

October 2008

          In between the commercial havoc of Middle Country Road and the continual traffic of Nicolls Road, lies an 11-acre tract of land rich in both history and spirit.

          For more than a century, Hobbs Farm— the last African American family farm on Long Island— has been a part of the Centereach community ever since James Hobbs moved from Georgia to Long Island in 1906 and worked as a farm hand until he was able to purchase land.

          Fifty years later, he gave his farm to his son, Alfred Hobbs, who was the last surviving member of the Hobbs family. After his death in the late 1990’s, the Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Setauket inherited the farm. The land languished during the past decade, becoming more of a dumping ground for the neighborhood than an object of pride.

          But the farm has been transformed in the past year by a group of residents who have freely donated their time to clean up the property, work the land and give the crops to local food pantries.

Bob Becherer is one of about 20 members of a volunteer group called Friends of Hobbs Farm that was established to feed, educate and unite the community through the redevelopment of the farm.

On a warm October morning, as orange and brown leaves fall around him, Becherer sits at a wooden picnic table in the farm’s western corner. He talks about the two acres of land that were cultivated this year and the group’s hope that one day the entire farm will be back in production.

          “We want to continue to have this land used for feeding people who are in need,” says Becherer, a Master Gardener who trained with the Cornell Cooperative Extension of Suffolk County.

          It won’t be easy since Hobbs farm is funded only by donations. “A lot of this money has been out of people’s own individual pockets,” says Becherer, who is retired from the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. Of course, sometimes the donations come in the form of labor— the farm is worked by a handful of committed community members.

          Sue, one of the regular volunteers, lives across the street from the farm. On this sun-drenched day, she walks over in her sweats and sneakers to say good morning to Becherer. Sue decided to volunteer when she noticed people cleaning up the farm from the window of her white, two-story home.

          “Whenever they came, I came out and helped them,” she recalled. And she’d also call Tom Lyon, whom Becherer describes as one of the project’s key players, whenever she saw someone dumping trash on the land. “She is like our night watchman,” Becherer says.

          Sue, whose fleece headband protects her ears from the wind, describes her time farming the land this year as a pleasure. “We were able to feed a lot of poor.” But she stresses that the land is just that, land. “It won’t grow itself here,” Sue says, her brow furrowing. “We need time, effort and money to make it happen.”

          Sue points out an area to her left where she planted vegetables like purple green beans and hot peppers that her family enjoys.

          “I got more fruits from here than from the plants in my backyard,” she says pointing to her home across the street.

          “Really?” Becherer says surprised, “That’s amazing.”

          As they walk around the farm, the two volunteers point out row after row of plants born out of their hard work and the work of their neighbors. Squash, green beans, watermelon, Swiss chard, basil, pumpkins, eggplants— “they were tremendous,” says Becherer. Peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, bush beans, collards, peas, sunflowers, sweet corn and pop corn—“It was as tall as me!”

          Each crop is restrained to a single row across half the width of the farm and seems to have no particular relationship to its neighbors. Pea plants—Becherer bends to pick a pod from one—grow behind the remnants of sunflowers, and the dirt between the rows reveals the footprints of the farm’s volunteers.

          “For me it’s a very powerful experience,” Becherer says, as he squints his eyes against the morning sun, “You plant a seed and then you see it grow.”

          As Sue says goodbye, Becherer walks towards the tall but dilapidated barn. The tips of his brown boots are a stark contrast to his combed graying hair, clean jeans and blue-collared shirt: they are already covered in dirt.

          Volunteers don’t have to necessarily get dirty tending crops to help out. The barn and a small house on the property, where Alfred Hobbs once lived, still need to be renovated. But Becherer feels satisfied with how much has been accomplished in just a year. “It’s really wonderful to see people take responsibility for it.”

          Becherer swings open the barn door. “Oh wow! We got a tractor!” The tractor looks practically new except for the chunks of mud stuck in the grooves of its large tires. This machine, as well as the other tools that are neatly hung on the barn’s walls, are a testament to the generosity of people who care about the farm.

          A white pickup truck pulls up in front of the building and out hops Ann Jimenez, dressed for work in jeans and a t-shirt and her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.

          Last year Jimenez contacted the Bethel AME Church about cleaning up the farm, but it wasn’t until she planted 240 tomato plants late last August that the parishioners started to take her vision seriously.

          “I wanted to make it something to help feed hungry people,” says Jimenez, who had only planted flowers in her Centereach garden before attacking Hobbs Farm head-on.

          “I’d never planted vegetables,” she says as a smile spreads across her sun-tanned face. “My husband doesn’t even eat vegetables!”

           “Ninety percent of the food we grow goes to food pantries,” Ann explains. Volunteers from the food pantries, including Lighthouse Mission in Patchogue, Cavalry Chapel in Holbrook and God’s Provision, come directly to the farm to pick up the fresh produce. The other 10 percent of the crops are given to community members who offer freewill donations, all of which go back into the farm.

          Jimenez, a wife and mother of four, who spends five days a week on the farm, says she feels a real sense of community developing. “A lot of people have stepped up to the plate,” she says as she boxes vegetables.

          Residents from Centereach and Selden have donated time and money, and local businesses— Oasis Irrigation, North Shore Fence and Contractor Supply, 631 Security and Detail Dumpsters, to name a few— have donated services.

          “If everyone does their little part it all works out,” says Jimenez who is wearing a navy blue t-shirt advertising Pellegrino Blacktop Paving and Seal Coating, another local business active in restoring Hobbs Farm.

          The Town of Brookhaven has done its part too. Last August, the town purchased the development rights for the farm and ensured that the land can never be built on. And because it will continue to be open land, Jimenez, Becherer and the other Friends of Hobbs Farm can continue to dream big.

          They have plans to build a plastic greenhouse and create a children’s garden. They also plan to make the farm an educational site and are excited to host their first field trip with students from Oxhead Road Elementary School.

          As the farm develops and the rows of vegetables multiply, the need for additional volunteers also grows. “We are going to need volunteers everyday to harvest this time next year,” Jimenez says.

          But she has faith that the Middle Country community will continue to take pride in its last surviving farm. “As there comes a need, somewhere that need is met,” she says.