ADAMS – It was the strangest sight to behold.

Sunday, July 08, 2001

ADAMS – It was the strangest sight to behold.

There was a man, pushing a cart down Adams city streets, during the annual Dairy Days parade last month.

Imagine that: a push cart. When is the last time anyone has seen something like that?

He looked straight ahead; never gazing to the side or acknowledging parade-watchers. His high-step gait reminded of a band majorette.

He looked … well … like an idiot.

A sign on the cart read "If you remember this, call Byron Huseby."

Huseby knew the man with the push cart well and so do others from his generation.

Every small town has its share of "characters." People who invite attention simply by being their simple selves.

That was the kind of man Julius was.

Mention the name "Julius" and that said it all.

Eccentric, yes. Idiot, not really. This was an idiot de genie; maybe even an idiot savant.

Julius had a personality and provided a valuable service that endeared him to Adams residents over a half-century ago.

Boe knows Julius

No matter how many times banker William Dean saw the man come down the street, "It was always new and, I must say, funny" he recalled.

"I respected and appreciated Julius," he said in an article in "From The Corner Window," a collection of letters written by Dean of happenings in the towns of Adams and Rose Creek from 1929 to 1949.

The curious entry in the 2001 Adams Dairy Days was Harlan Boe’s idea. The farmer, businessman, historian, collector of antiques and poet thought the cart would appeal to older Adams residents.

"Not many people today will remember Julius Surflaten," Boe said. "He and his cart go way back in history, but the older generations, people like Byron Huseby, will remember him."

"Julius was a regular sight in his day on the streets of Adams," Boe said.

Now 80, Boe knows local history and the man with the cart has a place, albeit small, in it.

Huseby remembers the man, too. According to Huseby, the man and the cart hold a special place in the hearts and minds of many Adams residents.

Man and his push cart

"He was just a nice man, who everybody in town knew and who everybody respected," Huseby said. "He did odd jobs for everyone and he had this special walk behind his cart."

Earl and Harriet Weness remember Julius, too.

"He was the man who picked up papers and trash and who mowed lawns or shoveled sidewalks. Everybody knew Julius," Mrs. Weness said.

The man died in May 1991 and was honored at a funeral held at Little Cedar Lutheran Church in Adams.

Until Boe resurrected him with his Adams Dairy Days push cart, the man was relegated to memories of bygone days.

The Julius Transfer Co. Ltd., as it was known, filled a need in its day, according to banker Dean’s account of the handyman, which was read at his funeral by Joe Cummins (now deceased), but an avid community historian.

"Every household is constantly facing the problem of having a trash or junk pile accumulate in the back yard," Cummins recalled. "All we had to do when the pile became too large was hail Julius and the pile would be promptly removed."

"Julius was prompt, obliging, efficient and satisfied with very small profits," the historian observed. "He would haul away small loads for a dime and larger ones in proportion."

"He made his own schedule of prices, never quibbled and was probably the most satisfied, most content guy in Adams. He was definitely the happiest," he said.

When he died, nobody knew for sure how old Julius was.

Today, he would be classified as a "vulnerable" adult, but Adams residents knew him as "simple-minded and childlike." He was eulogized as a "gentle, friendly, sweet-tempered soul, who minds his own business and is completely harmless."

According to residents, who remember the 1930s and 1940s, when Julius was a prominent citizen, the other children in Adams left Julius alone most of the time.

For years, he lived with family and simply existed in relative anonymity. Then, he had an operation to cure a medical problem and it was such a profound experience, that the man went to nearly every household in Adams and told of the operation.

Otherwise, he collected residents’ trash in his push cart, mowed lawns in the summer and shoveled sidewalks in the winter.

"The greatest charm about Julius and his most erratic trait was his walk," Dean noted in his memoirs. "He has a gait that is so unlike anything else, any other walk or stride that ever existed."

A sight to remember

With a "hard-fixed, stony stare" one his face, Julius, he walked and marched behind his push cart, a sight to see, but one never mocked in Adams.

"His gaze fixed on the sky, he strides along he sort of kicks down at the pavement, the road or the sidewalk, just as if he felt he was going down grade and wanted to hold back or that he was going to fast," Dean recalled. "He is not putting on an act."

"No one I knew ever jeered or jibed at Julius," he recalled. "We realized his great usefulness and his good qualities; how proud he was to always do a good job."

At Julius’ funeral, Cummins observed, "As it is and has been, there are a few people of sense, several in fact, whom we could far better afford to lose than Julius."

Call Lee Bonorden at 434-2232 or e-mail him at lee.bonorden@austindailyherald.com.