NASHVILLE, TENN. (RFD NEWS) — For more than 60 years, Orion Samuelson served as the trusted voice of American agriculture, interviewing nine presidents and traveling to 44 countries on behalf of U.S. farmers and ranchers. But long before his booming baritone voice launched his legendary career, Orion was destined to take over the family farm. A crippling childhood disease and an old radio paved the way for the original farm broadcaster and reports that would shape our nation’s history.
In March of 1934, Orion Samuelson was born on a farm nestled in the rolling green hills of Ontario, Wisconsin, an area his grandparents settled in because of its striking resemblance to their home country, Norway.
“It was a small farm by today’s standard,” he said. “Two hundred acres. But only 90 of it was tillable because the rest of it was up and down hills or forests. We used it for cow pasture, but we couldn’t grow too many acres of crops because everything would wash into the valley below us if we had a bad rain.”
He was the firstborn child of Mona and Sidney Samuelson, and they named him Orion, a very unusual name. So where did they come up with it?
“I’m asked that quite a few times. I had a grandfather named Carl and another grandfather named Oly. The initials C-O, and so they wanted to be able to incorporate those initials into my name, and they did that by calling me Orion Clifford.”
From Wisconsin Farm to the Airwaves
Agriculture ran in the Samuelson blood. Orion was raised by a farmer who was also raised by a farmer, and it was instilled in him at a very young age that hard work is a great teacher for any job.
“They were the kind of people who said if you’re going to do it, you do it right, and you do it honestly. We bought an old barn, tore it down, and then rebuilt it on our farm so that we could handle more cows, and so I got some experience in building as well as in doing chores every day, every morning, every night, and milking cows, of course, twice a day.”
Orian’s father, Sidney, a stoic, hard-working dairy farmer, had a towering presence that commanded respect. He rarely wore a suit.
“To go to church on Sunday and maybe a few other times go to family weddings and that sort of thing,” Orion told us. “But otherwise it was overalls, and I remember when I got my first pair of overalls after I should say half pants as we called them, and that was a big deal as we were growing up, because that was a sign that we were growing up because of the way we dressed.”
Orion’s mother, a firm yet loving grade school teacher, believed that Orion’s education was paramount, ensuring that he made the one-mile trek to the schoolhouse every day, even in the harsh Wisconsin winter.
“Well, I had to put on a sweater, and I had to put on a jacket or maybe two jackets, and if it was snowing when I was walking to or from school, I remember some situations where I wore goggles because it kept the snow out of my eyes as I did the walking. But the main situation that I had to overcome was the temperature when it got that cold, because that was a danger temperature. I didn’t know it at the time, but today we look at that as a dangerous temperature.”
In the late 1930s, the Samuelsons welcomed Norma to the family, and Orian gained a sister and a partner in chores. The tightly-bonded family of four was heavily vested in the farm’s success, and when they weren’t working, a favorite pastime was journeying to the movie theater to see the latest major motion picture.
“It was a real treat to go to the movies, which maybe we did once a month or so,” he said, “because it was 20 miles away from our farm. So we’d have to make a drive to go to the movies, but we never missed a Roy Rogers movie. We never missed a Gene Autry movie or a Tarzan movie because my father liked all of those events.”
Orion’s school days were punctuated by a tumultuous chapter in American history as the global war efforts in Europe and the Pacific accelerated. World War II was raging.
Here’s what he remembers most about that era: “I remember hearing the news that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, which was the beginning of the war for us. I remember I had two bachelor uncles, and they both got called to military duty, and I think their mother cried for a couple of days when they left home. Everything we did, whether it was produce food, produce airplanes, produce tanks, whatever we did during that time, we dedicated our lives to it, really.”
Before entering high school, his future looked bright. Orion was a tall student with high hopes of joining the basketball team and one day taking over the family business. But just ahead of his freshman year, Orion ran into some serious trouble with his leg.
“Well, my parents decided I needed to go to the doctor because I was not walking as well as I should,” he said. “I didn’t have good balance, and I needed some support to get my balance back. And I can still remember Dr. Jones walking out of his office after the examination, and he said, ‘Orion, no way to tell you this, but you’re not going to walk for two years.’ [...] It’s the only time in my life that I saw my dad cry — because I’m sure he was looking forward to passing the farm on to me, when I reached the age where that would happen — but suddenly I wasn’t going to walk for two years. I certainly wasn’t going to play basketball, and so I spent a lot of time in bed, flat on my back. And then I graduated to a wheelchair, and then I graduated to crutches.”
With his dreams dashed by a rare disease, not only was he forced to stay off his leg for two years, but Orion had to accept the fact that he would never fully recover. As he reimagined his future, he was comforted by a radio beside his bed and embraced the escape he found in listening to it. But it wasn’t until an empathetic rural educator showed up that his hope was restored.
“So, my first two years of high school, I was fortunate enough to have a teacher or FFA advisor who said if I was willing to study by myself, he’d bring my lessons out to me once or twice a week so that I wouldn’t fall behind inmy class. He had lost an arm in a farm accident as a kid, so he had a plastic arm from here down, and I don’t know if that’s why he took a liking to me here because I was on crutches my first two years of his class. I don’t know if that’s why he took an interest in me or not, and so that’s what I did the first two years of high school. That’s why I got so good on crutches. Man, I could use crutches to get out to that school bus quicker than anybody else.”
As Robert Gehring assumed the role of Orion’s mentor, he paired the young ag enthusiast’s love of radio with opportunities in the FFA. Orion began to envision himself as a farm broadcaster. He soon realized that public speaking was the avenue to get him there. “I remember the first FFA speech I delivered,” he recalled. “My knees never stopped shaking. And today, when I leave that message with FFA students who are doing the same thing, you know, they look at me, and they say, ‘Are you ever comfortable speaking?’ I say, ‘Oh yeah, you’ll get over it. Hang in there, you’ll get over it.’”
A New Direction
After partially recovering from a crippling childhood leg disease, Orion accepted that he would never be able to take over the family farm. But he was determined to succeed, and after graduating high school he discovered a way to merge his two greatest passions: agriculture and radio.
“I received a one-year scholarship at the University of Wisconsin. But by that time, I knew I wanted to be a radio announcer, and so when I went to the University, I remember staying in a bedroom on the third level of the floor close to the UW campus. After three months, I wasn’t learning how to be a radio announcer. They just weren’t taking me down that path. They were teaching me to be a writer, and I’m not a writer. I do my writing with my mouth and have all my career because I can put words together, ad-libbing much quicker and easier than I can at a typewriter or a computer, and putting it down on paper. And so after three months, I was homesick. I knew I was needed on the farm. We didn’t have a telephone on the farm, and so I called the neighbors and said, ‘Can you have my folks come in to your house, and I can talk to them on the phone?’ And they said, ‘Well, sure.’ So they set it up, they got my mother and father to come into their home where they had a telephone. And I said, ‘You know I’m just not learning a career that I think I want, and so I’d like to go another direction. And there’s a school in Minneapolis that teaches me how to become a radio announcer so I’d like to leave the University of Wisconsin and see if I can get into that school, the American Institute of the Air. In six months, they will teach me how to become a radio announcer.’ And my dad said, ‘You can do that only if you carry out going to the announcing school long enough to get started. But if you can’t do that, then now we gotta look somewhere else.’ Because he knew I couldn’t farm.”
Six months later after learning to refine his booming baritone voice, Orion graduated and immediately accepted his first on-air job as a polka DJ at WKLG in Sparta, Wisconsin, located just down the road from his family’s farm.
“So I’d get up in the morning, get in the car and drive 17 miles to be a polka radio announcer. And then I’d go home in time to milk cows because we were a daytime radio station. And I’d be able to join my folks to help them do the chores that had to be done on the farm. I bless my folks for giving me the option to do that.”
Orion’s experience in Sparta helped him climb the professional broadcast ladder. His next big move was stepping in as farm director at WBAY in Green Bay, Wisconsin, a television station with a deep appreciation of the rural lifestyle and the American farmer.
“They were doing an hour-long television show dealing with agriculture,” he recalled. “We had a live band in the studio every day. I drove tractors in and out of the studio every day and showed them on television, and so I did that for four years and did a lot of traveling, county traveling in the state of Wisconsin to cover events and so on. And then one day I’m driving on my way to an event where I’m speaking, and I hear, I’m listening to WGN because that was a station that we listened to with dreams maybe of someday working there. So I’m listening to WGN and I hear the word that their farm director is retiring immediately.”
A Breakthrough at WGN Radio
A sudden job opening at the 50,000-watt Midwestern Powerhouse radio station presented Orion with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His early experience and strong work ethic made him the leading candidate for the position of his dreams. And at just 26 years old, Orion became farm director at WGN Chicago.
“That’s back in the days of Clear Channel radio, when there were 25 radio stations in this country that did not have another radio station on their frequency. WGN was one of them, and so the manager at WGN who hired me there said, ‘You know, a Clear Channel station is a commodity unlike any other, and we have an obligation. Yes, our audience is primarily Chicago, but at nighttime with our sky signal, we cover the Midwest, and we go beyond.’ And so he said, ‘We have to keep this Clear Channel radio station in business, and one of the ways we can do that is to do agricultural events and agricultural news. We need somebody who can talk agriculture and do it with the knowledge, and we think you’re the man.’ When you work at WGN, you do everything first class, and I said first class, yes, if you have to fly to Washington, you fly an airplane first class because we are a first-class radio station. And then suddenly I’m in Washington flying on airplanes, and then finally I’m going to a lot of different countries visiting with a lot of world leaders.”
With comprehensive reports focused on livestock and grain market prices, weather-related growing conditions, and changing government policy, his honest and engaging approach to telling the ag story in a clear, understandable way appealed not only to farmers but also to consumers in metropolitan cities.
“I learned very quickly that there was an area that needed covering and explanation that wasn’t getting the explanation it was getting and deserved. So I said I’ve got to change the way I approach trying to educate people.”
In addition to Orion’s signature farm reports and anchoring the noon show, he also emceed the popular country music program National Barn Dance.
“Every Saturday night, I would spend at least three hours at WGN television in Chicago. We’d bring in an audience of about a hundred people. So for the first half hour, I would do a 30-minute television barn dance with the stars of the radio show Barn Dance. People I had grown up listening to in Wisconsin. We did that for 30 minutes and taped it for television, and then we would turn the audience out and 30 minutes later open the doors to a new audience and we would do an hour and a half for radio. I could get a plug-in for agriculture, a brief one, but at least I would get that in every show.”
In the early 1960s, the powerful WGN Chicago signal allowed Orion’s reports to reach far beyond the Midwest, into 38 states. Although he was initially surprised by his rapid rise to success, it didn’t take long for this farm kid transplanted to the big city to recognize thathe was effectively becoming the voice of American agriculture.
“Well, for me it says, number one, I’m a good communicator because they listened to what I had to say. And that was important to me because if I couldn’t connect with my audience, then maybe somebody else should be doing what I’m doing. So I particularly appreciated that opportunity and that feeling.”
In just his third year on the job, Orion was given the critical responsibility of delivering a life-changing live report to one of the nation’s largest audiences. A news bulletin stopped the whole world in its tracks.
“Today, I’ve never forgotten because every year on November 22nd, a lot of radio stations use that moment in history. And I can still remember the name Gene Dorretti, who was a newsman, ran into the studio and laid a piece of yellow paper down in front of me on the desk. And I glance over at it, and I see President Kennedy has been shot in Dallas. And that’s all it said. And then I looked up at the control room where Gene was standing, and I knew it was not a joke. Indeed, President Kennedy had been shot. And so I did the bulletin. We don’t have cell phones, we don’t have computers, we don’t have anything but that teletype in the newsroom. And so now what do I do? I’ve just made the biggest announcement that I’ll probably ever make, but it just says President Kennedy has been shot. So we had a TV set in the studio, and it was on Walter Cronkite on CBS. And so I went back to reading the weather forecast until I could get more information.”
Meanwhile, Walter Cronkite made the announcement that President Kennedy had died.
“So I do that bulletin. But now what do I do? It’s noon time. There’s not another announcer in the room or at the station. They’re out to lunch. And so what do I do? I kept reading the weather forecast. Finally, the record turned and came back, and so we went to music right away.”
A Global Voice for Agriculture
As Farm Director for WGN Chicago, Orion’s calm, honest delivery made him a trusted source for news and ag information. And as his broadcast footprint expanded, he found himself uniquely positioned in a front row seat to the highs and lows of American agribusiness. As he perfected his craft, Orion acquired the keen ability to intelligibly explain the importance of the global economic contributions of American farmers and ranchers, opening the door for trips abroad to 43 countries where he met with global leaders like Fidel Castro in Cuba, the Royal Family in England, and Mikhail Gorbachev in Russia.
“I’ve gone on so many of those trade trips to let our producers meet the people who buy their products and find out how they grow them and why they grow them and what technology they use to grow them. I’ve never forgotten the first trip to Vietnam after the war ended and we started trading with them. I went there on a grains council trip, and I vividly remember sitting in a shack, a bamboo shack, with about 40 barefoot Vietnamese farmers who were in the audience listening to the Americans who were on that foreign trade trip. To learn what they could about the product that we produced, what they could use and how they could use it, what livestock would do better on this than on that product. They needed feed for hogs, for example. And China needs so much for pork production. China, this surprises people, but China is the biggest producer and the biggest consumer of pork in the world. And we’ve got to be aware of that, and we’ve got to be aware of what they need and why they need it so that we can provide it because we can grow things they can’t.”
As Orion’s extraordinary radio career rose to a crescendo, his resonant voice was syndicated on over 260 stations with National Farm Report. And on the television side, U.S. Farm Report, a long-standing weekly program that he produced and hosted, grew to 190 stations. Orian’s next big break came when he teamed up with fellow WGN personality Max Armstrong. The two candidly discussed the opportunities and challenges in the ag sector, and ignited a spark of chemistry on air. And as iron sharpened iron, they became the leading voices for America’s farmers and ranchers.
Orion’s Memorable Work with RFD-TV
Orian and Max, the dynamic duo, would go on to share a 42-year working relationship and friendship, collaborating as co-creators of This Week In Agribusiness, which would become one of the most popular agricultural news programs of all time. They would expand to a national audience on RFD-TV. He hosted the Rose Parade alongside Pam Minnick and the National FFA Convention.
As he matured as a farm broadcaster, Orion had the opportunity to closely monitor the government’s role in agriculture. He became a champion of giving farmers a seat at the table and fair representation in discussions about agricultural legislation. And he made a point of highlighting the role of the USDA and the Ag Secretary in a farmer’s livelihood.
“Number one, the fact that they now represent an industry that is a basic industry. We couldn’t get along without the Department of Agriculture or the Secretary of Agriculture,” he recalled. “But to me, and I’m biased because I’m so in favor of farmers and what they do, I think the most important job they do is to let everybody in the world know what agriculture can do for them, thanks to the American farmer. That has been part of my message. To me, it’s the most basic industry on the planet, producing food, fiber, and now fuel for the public in any country in the world. And we depend so much on the foreign markets because farmers in other parts of the world can’t produce the way we produce for whatever number of reasons. The soil, the weather, the climate, and so much else that is not available to farmers in other parts of the world.”
A Lasting Impact
Orion’s long-standing mission of connecting consumers to where their food comes from earned him meetings with nine key global leaders, including U.S. presidents Harry S. Truman, Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, George H. W. Bush, and George W. Bush.
“I have a Republican who is one of my favorites, Ronald Reagan. And I have a Democrat who is one of my favorites, Harry Truman, who I visited after he served his presidency and spent probably an hour or two in his home in Independence, Missouri. But I liked Ronald Reagan because he was a great communicator, as he was called. I liked Harry Truman because if you study history, you can’t believe the tough decisions he had to make as president. He dropped the atomic bomb on Japan and he had to preside over the settlement agreements for World War II in Europe and in Japan. He had to fire General Douglas MacArthur, who was one of the heroes of America. And I look at all of the things that he had to deal with.”
Orion’s stellar news coverage earned him countless awards and honors over the years, including the American Farm Bureau’s Distinguished Service Award and two Oscars in Agriculture. The city of Chicago even renamed a street Orian Samuelson Way in his honor. But his greatest moment of recognition came in 2003 when he was inducted into the National Radio Hall of Fame, becoming the only farm broadcaster to receive such a noteworthy distinction. And his hero and colleague, Paul Harvey, presented him with the award.
“I’ve never forgotten his opening line because it was in Chicago, the ceremony was being held, it was a black-tie dinner, and there was an eclipse of the moon in Chicago that night. And so I think his opening line was, even the moon hides its face when we honor Orion Samuelson.”
As Orion moved into retirement, he remained partially active in the ag world. But he took time to focus on his family, especially the love of his life, his wife, Gloria, and on faith.
“When I started the National Farm Report, I felt so strong about the role of churches in the community as the social and spiritual center. I created a segment of my television show every week to do a country church salute. And I would ask congregations to send a picture and a history of their church, and then I would share that every week on the television show. And I found out there were a lot of churches in the country that were like the church that I grew up in. And I did have a strong faith, particularly after my leg problem, and I couldn’t walk. And later on in my career at Appleton, Wisconsin, I became good friends of the pastor of that Lutheran church. And at one point, he said, ‘You know, with your voice and your ability to speak, you should consider a life as a pastor.’ And I did. But I told him, ‘I’ll try to be the best layman I can do, but I don’t think I’m ready for a pastoral life because of the education I would have to have in order to do that.’ So I gave some thought to it, but I did not become a pastor. I have thought several times that, you know, maybe I should have taken a different path, but then I get to thinking, I haven’t done too badly in inspiring people, I hope, in doing what I do. So I’ll continue to try to be the best layman I can be.”
Orion Samuelson will undoubtedly be remembered for a great many things, but it’s his accomplishments as a friend and a champion of America’s farmers and ranchers that he is most proud will become his legacy.
“If anything I want to be remembered for, I guess it would be for helping people understand that there are no differences between them and people on the farm or ranch. They all want to do the same. Make the best product available, make the best clothes available, the best furniture available, and the best food available, the most nutrition available at a cost that people can afford.”
His advice to anyone looking to get involved in the ag industry?
“The sky’s the limit. I could never have dreamed milking cows in Wisconsin at that dairy barn that I would end up doing what I’ve been able to do. So don’t be afraid to dream it. Don’t be afraid to. Be adventurous and take a look at the opportunities that come your way.”
