The rat-a-tat sound of popcorn popping punctuated the farm kitchen of Lewis and Vera Johansen near Coulter, Iowa.
"Dad loved his popcorn," said Jeanine Landswerk, 82, the oldest of their three daughters. "He used to have his bowl of popcorn almost every single night."
Her dad vowed that one day, when he finally got off the farm, he intended to buy a popcorn wagon and drag it to big events across the countryside, selling his beloved kernels.
But when Lewis' kidneys failed and he died in 1963 at 54, Vera gave up popping — for 16 years, anyway. The fourth of five children of an Iowa lumber dealer, she had taught in rural schools before becoming a farm wife during more than 50 years in Iowa.
Widowed at 52, she moved to Northfield, Minn., where her sister lived, becoming the head resident at Hoyme Hall at St. Olaf College. She also worked at Perman's clothing store and served as the librarian at St. Olaf's science library until retiring in 1978 at 67.
That's when she spotted a popcorn wagon while visiting her daughter, Sandy, in Colorado. "She just looked at the wagon and said: 'That's what I'm going to do,' " Landswerk said.
A "Mr. Fixit" column in the Minneapolis Tribune led her to a Burnsville man who put her in contact with a friend in Rhinelander, Wis., who was restoring an antique popcorn wagon made in Chicago in 1918. Originally steam-powered, the C. Cretors & Co. designed its Model C wagon to be pulled by horses.
"She called us and brought us out to check it out and we all said, 'OK, Mom, go for it,' " her daughter said, recalling the wagon's debut event at a bank opening. "It was solid steel and monstrous and took the whole family to move it."