This is a banner day for my family. My Great-Grandfather Elisha Powell was born exactly 150 years ago today, February 15, 1865.

I never met the gentleman; he left this life 22 years before I entered it. He was born, raised, lived and died in and around St. Joseph, Missouri. He was a farmer who did carpentry work on the side (including repairing boxcars for the Union Pacific Railroad).

But it’s what he did in retirement in the early 1930s that has always intrigued me – and which can teach an important lesson to today’s cash-strapped municipal governments.

The Great Depression hit the country hard, and St. Joe wasn’t spared. When people lost jobs, they had no money to buy things, which left the city government with a nearly empty bank account. Although tax revenue was drastically down, basic services still had to be provided. But how do you provide them without money to pay for them?

For example, what about the parks?  Many city employees were laid off. How do you keep the grass in the parks trim when you can’t pay anyone to mow it?

That’s when someone had a brilliant idea. I don’t know who thought of it, or how Great-Grandpa Powell wound up getting involved in it, but it worked perfectly.

The city bought a herd of sheep. Who, as you know, love to eat grass. They really pig out on it. So much so that you must keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t devour it right down to the roots. (They’ll strip a pasture bare if you leave them in one spot long enough.)

Great-Grandpa Powell, by now a retired farmer, somehow wound up being responsible for this flock. Every morning he took them from their pen and herded them to a city park, where they feasted on grass. My Great-Grandmother Powell brought him his lunch every day, and they ate together while watching the sheep eat. At sunset, he shepherd the flock back to the pen. The next day, the sheep went to a different city park and chowed down there.

Fall eventually arrived and frost killed the grass, so there was no more need to keep it in check. The sheep were sold, the city recovered its original investment, and the profit went to Great-Grandpa Powell for his compensation.

Talk about thinking outside the box! The parks were maintained, the sheep were fed, and an old man made a few bucks on the side – all without costing St. Joe’s taxpayer’s a single cent. It was a win-win-win for everybody.

Beautiful Krug Park, one of several in St. Joseph where my great-grandfather herded sheep.

Today’s municipal leaders could learn a thing or two from that experience … and a man who was born exactly 150 years ago today helped make it possible.

Happy birthday, Great-Grandpa Powell!

Did you find this enjoyable or helpful? Please continue to join me each week, and I invite you to read Tell it Like Tupper and share your review!

Curious about Tell It Like Tupper? Here’s a chance to see for yourself. Take a sneak peek at a couple chapters in this free downloadable excerpt.