The boots left tracks across the tile floor of the First National Bank in Sac City, Iowa. Mud from the parking lot, still wet from the rain that had come through that morning. The woman wearing them did not apologize for the tracks. She walked straight to the receptionist desk and said she was there for the farm auction.
The receptionist looked at the boots and then at the woman’s face and said the auction was in the conference room down the hall. The woman nodded and walked in that direction. The boots squeaked on the tile. There was a man sitting in the lobby waiting area whose name was Vernon Clapp.
He was 68 years old and he had been farming in Sac County since 1971. He had come to the bank to observe the auction. He was not planning to bid, but he was curious about who would buy the Schroeder place. He watched the woman with the muddy boots walk past. She wore jeans and a canvas jacket and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
She carried a yellow legal pad and a pen. She looked like she had just come from field work. Vernon thought she was probably there to watch, same as him. He was wrong. The auction was being held on November 6th, 2019. The property for sale was 300 acres of farmland, 8 miles east of Sac City. It had been owned by the estate of Walter Schroeder, who had died in July at the age of 81.
Walter had never married. He had no children. His only living relative was a niece in Arizona, who had no interest in farming. She had hired an estate attorney to liquidate the assets. The farm was the primary asset. It consisted of 300 acres of Clarion Webster soil, mostly tillable, with a small creek running through the southwest corner.
The land had been appraised at $4,000 per acre. The estate attorney had decided to sell it at auction rather than listed publicly. Invitations had been sent to 23 parties who had expressed interest. 17 people attended the auction. Most were local farmers looking to expand. A few were investors. One was a representative from a farming corporation based in Sioux Falls.
They sat in folding chairs arranged in three rows facing a podium where the auctioneer would stand. The woman with the muddy boots sat in the back row. She set the legal pad on her lap and clicked the pen. She did not speak to anyone. If you have ever walked into a room where nobody expected you to succeed, this story is for you. Hit subscribe.
The auctioneer was a man named Rick Tollefson. He had been calling farm auctions in northwest Iowa for 31 years. He stood at the podium and explained the terms. The land would be sold in one parcel. No contingencies. Buyer to pay 10% down today with a balance due at closing in 30 days. Clear title. Possession March 1st, 2020.
Bidding would start at $800,000. Rick looked around the room. He said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is quality ground. Clarion Webster soils, tile drained, good access. Let us start at 800,000. Who will give me 800?” A farmer in the front row raised his card. His name was Dwayne Peterson and he farmed 1,600 acres west of Sac City.
He had been planning to bid on the Schroeder place for 3 months. He had financing arranged through his banking Carol. 800,000 was a reasonable starting point. Rick said, “I have 800. Now 850. Who will give me 850?” Another farmer raised his card. Rick said, “850. Now 900.” Dwayne went to 900. The bidding continued. It climbed to 950,000.
Then to 1 million. Then to 1 million 50,000. At million 75, the representative from the Sioux Falls Corporation raised his card. The room took notice. Corporate buyers usually had deep pockets. Dwayne bid 1 million 100. The corporate representative went to 1 million 150. Dwayne stayed in. He bid 1 million 175.
The corporate man bid 1 million 200,000. Dwayne sat back in his chair. He did not raise his card again. That was his limit. Rick said, “I have 1 million 200,000. Do I have 1 million 225?” Nobody bid. Rick said, “1 million 200 going once.” The woman in the back row raised her card. Rick stopped. He looked at her.
He said, “Ma’am, you are bidding 1 million 225,000 dollars?” She said, “Yes.” Her voice was calm. Rick said, “And you understand that is a binding bid requiring a 10% deposit today?” She said, “I understand.” The corporate representative turned in his chair to see who was bidding. So did Dwayne Peterson.
So did Vernon Clapp, who was sitting against the wall. The woman did not look at any of them. She looked at Rick. The corporate man raised his card. He said, “1 million 250.” The woman said, “1 million 275.” The man said, “1 million 300.” The woman said, “1 million 325.” Rick looked at the corporate representative. The man was frowning.
He said, “1 million 350.” The woman said, “1 million 375.” The corporate man stood up. He said to the woman, “Do you even have financing for this?” The woman looked at him. She said, “That is not your concern.” The man said, “This is absurd.” He walked out of the room. Rick said, “I have 1,375,000 from the lady in the back.
Do I have any other bids?” Nobody raised a card. Rick said, “Going once, going twice, sold to bidder number 12 for 1,375,000 dollars.” The room was silent. Then people started talking. Dwayne Peterson turned to the man sitting next to him and said, “Who is she?” The man said, “I have no idea.” The woman walked to the front of the room.
She pulled a checkbook from her jacket pocket. She wrote a check for 137,500 dollars. She handed it to the estate attorney. The attorney looked at the check. It was drawn on an account at the Bank of Lakeview. The name on the check was Sarah Kenningsfeld. The attorney said, “Ms. Kenningsfeld, can you provide proof of financing for the remaining balance?” Sarah said, “I will have a commitment letter to you by Monday.
” The attorney said, “The sale is contingent on that.” Sarah said, “I know.” She signed the purchase agreement. She took her copy and she walked out of the conference room. The muddy boots left more tracks on the tile. Vernon Clapp followed her out. He caught up to her in the parking lot. He said, “Excuse me, miss.
” Sarah stopped. She turned around. Vernon said, “I am sorry to bother you. I am just curious. Are you from around here?” Sarah said, “I grew up in Auburn.” Vernon said, “Auburn in Sac County?” Sarah said, “Yes.” Vernon said, “And you just bought the Schroder farm.” Sarah said, “I did.” Vernon said, “May I ask how old you are?” Sarah said, “27.
” Vernon smiled. He He “That was the gutsyest thing I have seen at a farm auction in 40 years.” Sarah said, “Thank you.” Vernon said, “Do you mind if I ask what you plan to do with the land?” Sarah said, “Farm it.” Vernon said, “By yourself?” Sarah said, “Yes.” Vernon said, “Good for you.” He shook her hand.
He said, “If you need anything, my name is Vernon Clapp. I farm north of Lakeview. I am in the phone book.” Sarah said, “I appreciate that.” Sarah Koningsfeld had been raised on a farm 3 miles outside Auburn. Her father was named Dale Koningsfeld. He had farmed 480 acres of rented ground. He had run a small cow-calf operation, and he had grown corn and soybeans.
Sarah had been the oldest of three children. She had worked on the farm since she was 8 years old. She had driven tractor during planting and harvest. She had helped with calving. She had kept the books for her father starting when she was in high school. Dale had wanted Sarah to take over the farm. He had told her that when she was 16.
He had said, “You are good at this. You understand the land, and you understand the numbers. If you want to farm, I will teach you everything I know.” Sarah had said she wanted to farm. Dale had started keeping detailed records for her. He wrote down every decision he made and why he made it. Which fields to plant first.
Which hybrids perform best in which soil types. How to time fertilizer applications. How to negotiate with the landlords. How to manage cash flow. He kept the records in a three-ring binder that he updated every week. He told Sarah the binder was hers. In the spring of 2011, Dale was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
He was 53 years old. The doctors gave him 6 months. He lasted four. He died in September. Sarah was 19. She had just started her sophomore year at Iowa State studying agronomy. She came home for the funeral. She did not go back to school. Her mother sold the cattle and the equipment.
She could not afford to keep farming the rented ground. The landlords found other tenants. Sarah’s younger siblings were still in school. Her mother worked as a bookkeeper in Carroll. They moved to a house in town. Sarah took a job at the co-op in Lake View. She worked in the seed and chemical division. She learned the products. She talked to farmers.
She listened to what they said about their land and their yields and their problems. She saved every dollar she made. She lived in a rented apartment above a hardware store. And she drove a 15-year-old pickup truck. She spent nothing on anything that was not necessary. She read her father’s binder every night. She memorized it.
She understood that her father had been teaching her to farm not by giving her land, but by teaching her how to think about land. The binder was the inheritance that mattered. In 2015, Sarah took out a loan and bought a used tractor. She started custom farming for people who needed field work done, but did not have time or equipment.
She charged by the acre. She did good work and people hired her again. She built a reputation. By 2018, she was farming 800 acres on contract. She was making enough to live on and to save. She had been watching for land to buy since 2016. She wanted her own ground. She had looked at several parcels, but the prices were always too high or the land was too poor or the terms were not right.
When the Schroeder estate announced the auction, she had driven out to look at the property. She had walked all 300 acres. She had checked the tile outlets. She had looked at the soil. She had taken samples. The land was good. Better than good. It was some of the best dirt in Sac County. She had gone to the Bank of Lake View and met with a loan officer.
His name was Greg Hoffman. She had explained that she wanted to bid on the Schroeder farm. She had shown him her tax returns from the previous 3 years. She had shown him the contract she had for the current year. She had shown him a business plan she had written outlining how she would farm the land and what her projected income would be.
Greg had reviewed everything. He had said, “Sarah, you have good income, but you do not have collateral for a loan of this size. The land will be the collateral, but banks do not like to lend more than 75% of appraised value on farmland purchases. The Schroeder place is appraised at 1,200,000. That means we could lend you 900,000.
You would need to come up with 300,000 in cash.” Sarah had said, “What if I can cover 20% down?” Greg had said, “Then we could finance the rest, but 20% of 1,200 is 240,000. Do you have that?” Sarah had said, “Not yet.” She had gone to Vernon Klatt’s farm the next week. She had not known Vernon, but she had heard he was fair and that he helped young farmers.
She had knocked on his door. She had introduced herself. She had explained that she was trying to buy the Schroeder place and that she needed another 100,000 dollars to make the down payment work. She had asked if he would cosign a loan. Vernon had said, “Why should I do that?” Sarah had said, “Because I am a good farmer and I will pay it back.
” Vernon had said, “How do I know you are a good farmer?” Sarah had handed him a list of references. Every farmer she had custom farm for in the past 4 years. Vernon had called three of them. All three had said Sarah was the best operator they had ever hired. Vernon had agreed to co-sign. He had gone to the bank with her.
Greg Hoffman had processed the loan. Sarah had received a commitment letter for up to $1,400,000. She had the letter in her truck the day of the auction. She had not needed to show it. The check for 10% down had been enough. She closed on the property on December 9th, 2019. She paid $1,375,000. The bank financed $1,100,000.
She paid the rest from savings and from a short-term loan co-signed by Vernon. She took possession on March 1st, 2020. She farmed the land herself that spring. She planted 180 acres of corn and 120 acres of soybeans. She did all the work. She ran the planter and the sprayer and the combine. The corn averaged 179 bushels per acre.
The soybeans averaged 53. She sold the corn for $3.90 a bushel. She sold the soybeans for $9.40. After expenses, she cleared $61,000. She made her loan payments. She paid Vernon back the money he had loaned her for the down payment. She has farmed the land every year since. The loan balance is now $780,000. She is 32 years old.
She still lives in the apartment above the hardware store. She still drives the same pickup truck. She puts every extra dollar into the loan. Vernon Clatt is 74 now. He still farms his own ground. He says Sarah Koningsfeld is one of the best farmers in Sac County. He says she walked into that auction with muddy boots and nobody thought she belonged there.
He says she belonged more than anyone. >> [clears throat] >> Dwayne Peterson sees Sarah at the co-op sometimes. He told a friend once that he is glad he did not win the bid on the Schroeder place. He said Sarah farms it better than he would have. He said she knows that ground like she has been farming it for 30 years.
Rick Tollefson still calls auctions in Northwest Iowa. He says the Schroeder sale was one of the most surprising he ever conducted. He says he thought the corporate buyer would win. He says Sarah outbid him without flinching. He says that takes nerve. The corporate representative never came back to Sac County.
Nobody knows his name. Nobody cares. Sarah Keiningham walked into that bank with muddy boots because she had been walking the Schroeder land that morning. She had been checking the tile lines and measuring the field borders and planning where she would plant. She already knew she was going to buy it.
The auction was just the formality. The boots were not a mistake. They were evidence. Evidence that she had done the work before she walked in the door. She walked out owning 300 acres because she had spent eight years preparing. She had saved. She had built a reputation. She had studied her father’s binder until she could see the land the way he saw it.
She had earned the credibility to borrow more than a million dollars at age 27. That credibility was not given. It was built one season at a time. People thought the muddy boots meant she did not belong. The boots meant the opposite. They meant she had already been working.
She Walked In With Muddy Boots…And Walked Out Owning Three Hundred Acres
The boots left tracks across the tile floor of the First National Bank in Sac City, Iowa. Mud from the parking lot, still wet from the rain that had come through that morning. The woman wearing them did not apologize for the tracks. She walked straight to the receptionist desk and said she was there for the farm auction.
The receptionist looked at the boots and then at the woman’s face and said the auction was in the conference room down the hall. The woman nodded and walked in that direction. The boots squeaked on the tile. There was a man sitting in the lobby waiting area whose name was Vernon Clapp.
He was 68 years old and he had been farming in Sac County since 1971. He had come to the bank to observe the auction. He was not planning to bid, but he was curious about who would buy the Schroeder place. He watched the woman with the muddy boots walk past. She wore jeans and a canvas jacket and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
She carried a yellow legal pad and a pen. She looked like she had just come from field work. Vernon thought she was probably there to watch, same as him. He was wrong. The auction was being held on November 6th, 2019. The property for sale was 300 acres of farmland, 8 miles east of Sac City. It had been owned by the estate of Walter Schroeder, who had died in July at the age of 81.
Walter had never married. He had no children. His only living relative was a niece in Arizona, who had no interest in farming. She had hired an estate attorney to liquidate the assets. The farm was the primary asset. It consisted of 300 acres of Clarion Webster soil, mostly tillable, with a small creek running through the southwest corner.
The land had been appraised at $4,000 per acre. The estate attorney had decided to sell it at auction rather than listed publicly. Invitations had been sent to 23 parties who had expressed interest. 17 people attended the auction. Most were local farmers looking to expand. A few were investors. One was a representative from a farming corporation based in Sioux Falls.
They sat in folding chairs arranged in three rows facing a podium where the auctioneer would stand. The woman with the muddy boots sat in the back row. She set the legal pad on her lap and clicked the pen. She did not speak to anyone. If you have ever walked into a room where nobody expected you to succeed, this story is for you. Hit subscribe.
The auctioneer was a man named Rick Tollefson. He had been calling farm auctions in northwest Iowa for 31 years. He stood at the podium and explained the terms. The land would be sold in one parcel. No contingencies. Buyer to pay 10% down today with a balance due at closing in 30 days. Clear title. Possession March 1st, 2020.
Bidding would start at $800,000. Rick looked around the room. He said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is quality ground. Clarion Webster soils, tile drained, good access. Let us start at 800,000. Who will give me 800?” A farmer in the front row raised his card. His name was Dwayne Peterson and he farmed 1,600 acres west of Sac City.
He had been planning to bid on the Schroeder place for 3 months. He had financing arranged through his banking Carol. 800,000 was a reasonable starting point. Rick said, “I have 800. Now 850. Who will give me 850?” Another farmer raised his card. Rick said, “850. Now 900.” Dwayne went to 900. The bidding continued. It climbed to 950,000.
Then to 1 million. Then to 1 million 50,000. At million 75, the representative from the Sioux Falls Corporation raised his card. The room took notice. Corporate buyers usually had deep pockets. Dwayne bid 1 million 100. The corporate representative went to 1 million 150. Dwayne stayed in. He bid 1 million 175.
The corporate man bid 1 million 200,000. Dwayne sat back in his chair. He did not raise his card again. That was his limit. Rick said, “I have 1 million 200,000. Do I have 1 million 225?” Nobody bid. Rick said, “1 million 200 going once.” The woman in the back row raised her card. Rick stopped. He looked at her.
He said, “Ma’am, you are bidding 1 million 225,000 dollars?” She said, “Yes.” Her voice was calm. Rick said, “And you understand that is a binding bid requiring a 10% deposit today?” She said, “I understand.” The corporate representative turned in his chair to see who was bidding. So did Dwayne Peterson.
So did Vernon Clapp, who was sitting against the wall. The woman did not look at any of them. She looked at Rick. The corporate man raised his card. He said, “1 million 250.” The woman said, “1 million 275.” The man said, “1 million 300.” The woman said, “1 million 325.” Rick looked at the corporate representative. The man was frowning.
He said, “1 million 350.” The woman said, “1 million 375.” The corporate man stood up. He said to the woman, “Do you even have financing for this?” The woman looked at him. She said, “That is not your concern.” The man said, “This is absurd.” He walked out of the room. Rick said, “I have 1,375,000 from the lady in the back.
Do I have any other bids?” Nobody raised a card. Rick said, “Going once, going twice, sold to bidder number 12 for 1,375,000 dollars.” The room was silent. Then people started talking. Dwayne Peterson turned to the man sitting next to him and said, “Who is she?” The man said, “I have no idea.” The woman walked to the front of the room.
She pulled a checkbook from her jacket pocket. She wrote a check for 137,500 dollars. She handed it to the estate attorney. The attorney looked at the check. It was drawn on an account at the Bank of Lakeview. The name on the check was Sarah Kenningsfeld. The attorney said, “Ms. Kenningsfeld, can you provide proof of financing for the remaining balance?” Sarah said, “I will have a commitment letter to you by Monday.
” The attorney said, “The sale is contingent on that.” Sarah said, “I know.” She signed the purchase agreement. She took her copy and she walked out of the conference room. The muddy boots left more tracks on the tile. Vernon Clapp followed her out. He caught up to her in the parking lot. He said, “Excuse me, miss.
” Sarah stopped. She turned around. Vernon said, “I am sorry to bother you. I am just curious. Are you from around here?” Sarah said, “I grew up in Auburn.” Vernon said, “Auburn in Sac County?” Sarah said, “Yes.” Vernon said, “And you just bought the Schroder farm.” Sarah said, “I did.” Vernon said, “May I ask how old you are?” Sarah said, “27.
” Vernon smiled. He He “That was the gutsyest thing I have seen at a farm auction in 40 years.” Sarah said, “Thank you.” Vernon said, “Do you mind if I ask what you plan to do with the land?” Sarah said, “Farm it.” Vernon said, “By yourself?” Sarah said, “Yes.” Vernon said, “Good for you.” He shook her hand.
He said, “If you need anything, my name is Vernon Clapp. I farm north of Lakeview. I am in the phone book.” Sarah said, “I appreciate that.” Sarah Koningsfeld had been raised on a farm 3 miles outside Auburn. Her father was named Dale Koningsfeld. He had farmed 480 acres of rented ground. He had run a small cow-calf operation, and he had grown corn and soybeans.
Sarah had been the oldest of three children. She had worked on the farm since she was 8 years old. She had driven tractor during planting and harvest. She had helped with calving. She had kept the books for her father starting when she was in high school. Dale had wanted Sarah to take over the farm. He had told her that when she was 16.
He had said, “You are good at this. You understand the land, and you understand the numbers. If you want to farm, I will teach you everything I know.” Sarah had said she wanted to farm. Dale had started keeping detailed records for her. He wrote down every decision he made and why he made it. Which fields to plant first.
Which hybrids perform best in which soil types. How to time fertilizer applications. How to negotiate with the landlords. How to manage cash flow. He kept the records in a three-ring binder that he updated every week. He told Sarah the binder was hers. In the spring of 2011, Dale was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
He was 53 years old. The doctors gave him 6 months. He lasted four. He died in September. Sarah was 19. She had just started her sophomore year at Iowa State studying agronomy. She came home for the funeral. She did not go back to school. Her mother sold the cattle and the equipment.
She could not afford to keep farming the rented ground. The landlords found other tenants. Sarah’s younger siblings were still in school. Her mother worked as a bookkeeper in Carroll. They moved to a house in town. Sarah took a job at the co-op in Lake View. She worked in the seed and chemical division. She learned the products. She talked to farmers.
She listened to what they said about their land and their yields and their problems. She saved every dollar she made. She lived in a rented apartment above a hardware store. And she drove a 15-year-old pickup truck. She spent nothing on anything that was not necessary. She read her father’s binder every night. She memorized it.
She understood that her father had been teaching her to farm not by giving her land, but by teaching her how to think about land. The binder was the inheritance that mattered. In 2015, Sarah took out a loan and bought a used tractor. She started custom farming for people who needed field work done, but did not have time or equipment.
She charged by the acre. She did good work and people hired her again. She built a reputation. By 2018, she was farming 800 acres on contract. She was making enough to live on and to save. She had been watching for land to buy since 2016. She wanted her own ground. She had looked at several parcels, but the prices were always too high or the land was too poor or the terms were not right.
When the Schroeder estate announced the auction, she had driven out to look at the property. She had walked all 300 acres. She had checked the tile outlets. She had looked at the soil. She had taken samples. The land was good. Better than good. It was some of the best dirt in Sac County. She had gone to the Bank of Lake View and met with a loan officer.
His name was Greg Hoffman. She had explained that she wanted to bid on the Schroeder farm. She had shown him her tax returns from the previous 3 years. She had shown him the contract she had for the current year. She had shown him a business plan she had written outlining how she would farm the land and what her projected income would be.
Greg had reviewed everything. He had said, “Sarah, you have good income, but you do not have collateral for a loan of this size. The land will be the collateral, but banks do not like to lend more than 75% of appraised value on farmland purchases. The Schroeder place is appraised at 1,200,000. That means we could lend you 900,000.
You would need to come up with 300,000 in cash.” Sarah had said, “What if I can cover 20% down?” Greg had said, “Then we could finance the rest, but 20% of 1,200 is 240,000. Do you have that?” Sarah had said, “Not yet.” She had gone to Vernon Klatt’s farm the next week. She had not known Vernon, but she had heard he was fair and that he helped young farmers.
She had knocked on his door. She had introduced herself. She had explained that she was trying to buy the Schroeder place and that she needed another 100,000 dollars to make the down payment work. She had asked if he would cosign a loan. Vernon had said, “Why should I do that?” Sarah had said, “Because I am a good farmer and I will pay it back.
” Vernon had said, “How do I know you are a good farmer?” Sarah had handed him a list of references. Every farmer she had custom farm for in the past 4 years. Vernon had called three of them. All three had said Sarah was the best operator they had ever hired. Vernon had agreed to co-sign. He had gone to the bank with her.
Greg Hoffman had processed the loan. Sarah had received a commitment letter for up to $1,400,000. She had the letter in her truck the day of the auction. She had not needed to show it. The check for 10% down had been enough. She closed on the property on December 9th, 2019. She paid $1,375,000. The bank financed $1,100,000.
She paid the rest from savings and from a short-term loan co-signed by Vernon. She took possession on March 1st, 2020. She farmed the land herself that spring. She planted 180 acres of corn and 120 acres of soybeans. She did all the work. She ran the planter and the sprayer and the combine. The corn averaged 179 bushels per acre.
The soybeans averaged 53. She sold the corn for $3.90 a bushel. She sold the soybeans for $9.40. After expenses, she cleared $61,000. She made her loan payments. She paid Vernon back the money he had loaned her for the down payment. She has farmed the land every year since. The loan balance is now $780,000. She is 32 years old.
She still lives in the apartment above the hardware store. She still drives the same pickup truck. She puts every extra dollar into the loan. Vernon Clatt is 74 now. He still farms his own ground. He says Sarah Koningsfeld is one of the best farmers in Sac County. He says she walked into that auction with muddy boots and nobody thought she belonged there.
He says she belonged more than anyone. >> [clears throat] >> Dwayne Peterson sees Sarah at the co-op sometimes. He told a friend once that he is glad he did not win the bid on the Schroeder place. He said Sarah farms it better than he would have. He said she knows that ground like she has been farming it for 30 years.
Rick Tollefson still calls auctions in Northwest Iowa. He says the Schroeder sale was one of the most surprising he ever conducted. He says he thought the corporate buyer would win. He says Sarah outbid him without flinching. He says that takes nerve. The corporate representative never came back to Sac County.
Nobody knows his name. Nobody cares. Sarah Keiningham walked into that bank with muddy boots because she had been walking the Schroeder land that morning. She had been checking the tile lines and measuring the field borders and planning where she would plant. She already knew she was going to buy it.
The auction was just the formality. The boots were not a mistake. They were evidence. Evidence that she had done the work before she walked in the door. She walked out owning 300 acres because she had spent eight years preparing. She had saved. She had built a reputation. She had studied her father’s binder until she could see the land the way he saw it.
She had earned the credibility to borrow more than a million dollars at age 27. That credibility was not given. It was built one season at a time. People thought the muddy boots meant she did not belong. The boots meant the opposite. They meant she had already been working.
