Country Primer

By Ken Wysocky, Whitefish Bay, Wisconsin

Liz Zahm's hobby leaves her fit to be tied—and she couldn't be happier about it.

Liz, who lives in Beatrice, Nebraska, is an avid rope maker who practices her craft the old-fashioned way, using tools like the ones America's pioneers relied on in the 1800s. "Making rope is my passion," she says. "It makes me feel good to keep history alive." Making the past come to life is a family affair for Liz, who spends most weekends from June through October in costume at historic re-enactments in Iowa, Kansas, Missouri and Nebraska. Liz makes rope while her husband, David, works as a blacksmith and their daughter Rochelle produces lye soap and hand-dipped candles.

"Kids usually made the rope back then, because the adults didn't have time," Liz says. "Dad was out in the fields, and Mom was doing laundry or cooking. There was no television, no computers and no video games. Making rope was their game."

Liz has found that today's children are fascinated by rope-making, too.

"I do this mainly so kids know how it was done," she says. "They're amazed to see how rope is made. You can tell them how it's done, but they don't realize it until they actually do it themselves. If they can see, touch and hear history, they can appreciate it a whole lot more.

"But we get senior citizens in their 80s who want to make rope, too," she adds. "They want to do it because they remember making it as children."

Rope Roots Run Deep

Liz has loved ropes since her own childhood. She grew up on a farm in nearby Filley and fondly recalls swinging with her siblings from ropes hanging from pulleys in the hayloft. About 25 years ago, she saw a rope maker at the Homestead National Monument of America in Beatrice, where homesteading life in the 1800s is re-created. She realized she could conjure up those childhood memories with her own hands.

"I let each of my girls, Connie and Rochelle, make an 8-foot section of rope," she says. "After watching that, I couldn't wait to ask David to build me a replica of the 1860s rope-making machine at the monument."

David did just that, making a machine from iron and wood. Liz has collected about 10 rope machines over the years, but she likes David's best.

"I've used all of them, but David's is so easy to run," she says. "You only need two people to use it. Most other machines require three people, with the third person holding the end of whatever it is you're using to make the rope."

Before the advent of manufactured rope machines, pioneers commonly pounded a nail into a tree, then tied three lengths of whatever material they were using to the nail. Two people stood at the other end of the pieces and start entwining them.

"Think about braiding hair, and you get the picture," Liz says.

Thicker rope requires more strands. A half-inch rope, for instance, requires braiding six strands of material into three strands. Those three strands are then braided to form the rope.

"The longest rope I ever made was 300 feet," Liz says. "I used it to make a rope bed."

Heavy Duty

Liz says the thickest rope she ever made was a whopping 2-1/2 inches in diameter.

"I made it for a horse-and-oxen pull," she says. "It was 50 feet long, and it took a lot of twine—and people—to make it. To get it started, we needed 10 people to hold it at one time because it was so heavy."

Rope machines made the process faster and easier for pioneers. Strands once braided by hand could be fashioned on machines with three to five hooks rotated with a hand crank.

Liz bought her first rope machine at a farm auction in Seward for $100. Until cast-iron machines like the Wonder and New Era models became available in the early 20th century, no two machines were alike, because all of them were handmade.

"A lot of people collect the machines," Liz says. "You find them mainly at auctions. The cheapest one I ever bought cost $75, but most go for $250 to $500, depending on the condition. A lot of people buy them for show and don't even know what they are.

"Sometimes people see a rope machine and say, ‘Wow, our founding fathers were pretty smart.' They sure were."

Plain and Fancy

Liz makes her ropes from sisal twine, also called baler twine. She usually makes jump ropes and lariats for children, charging just enough to pay for the materials.

But she's also made fancy lariats, reins, halters and lead ropes for cowboys to use in show rings.

"I've made red-white-and-blue ropes that people have sent to loved ones serving in Iraq and Afghanistan," she says. "I've also made ropes that were sent to China and Canada, and all over the United States."

For the most part, her creations bring joy to children who watch in fascination as she turns a few strands of twine into jump ropes and lariats that they can take home as pieces of American history.

It's a simple pleasure, and Liz is proud to pass on the tradition to a new generation. "Somebody has to keep it alive," she says. "If it dies, you might be able to read about it, but you won't see it made in person."