Owning an old-fashioned milk can seems natural for someone who bears the same name as Fike's Dairy of Uniontown. But 30 milk cans?
That's the number in Catherine Fike's collection, made even more unique with artwork that adorns all but one. Fike, 68, a retired Armstrong and Indiana Intermediate Unit psychologist from Ruffs Dale who holds a doctorate, began collecting the steel and aluminum milk cans about 25 years ago, after a friend gave her a painted milk can decorated with a decal.
After a period of time, the decal wore off, "And I said, this needs to be painted on," Fike says. She didn't wonder long for ideas after running into artist Sandi Schantz of Saltsburg at a craft show. Schantz had decorated a painted milk can in her display, so Fike had Schantz paint the can her friend had given her, then a second can.
And the collection mushroomed.
Because Greensburg artist Grace Herbert lived closer to Fike than Schantz, Fike employed Herbert to paint daisies on both a milk can and a Hoosier cabinet inherited from Fike's mother-in-law. Herbert painted several other milk cans and miner's and children's metal lunch pails for Fike. But after Herbert died, Fike resumed her personal and professional relationship with Schantz, 56, who for the past 20 years has continued to paint milk cans for Fike, who has had as many as 58 milk cans in her collection. She has given away 28 to friends and family.
Some are painted with fruits or village scenes. Others sport wildlife such as deer, ducks, geese or fish. One quartet depicts the seasons: flowers for spring and summer, pumpkins for fall and a wintry scene accented with holly leaves and berries for that season. Another milk can is painted with the image of an angel for a relative who died too young, at just 14 months.
Two milk cans each have a surname painted on them. One is painted with "Lechnar," Fike's maiden name, with a Polish falcon and flag for her ethnic heritage. The other is painted with the name of her husband, Bill, "Fike," and an American eagle.
Milk cans were used beginning after the Civil War, when the dairy industry grew. They have narrow necks flaring downward to wider bodies and are topped with lids that were usually flat and fitted into the necks. Milk cans usually contained 5 or 10 gallons of milk.
After they were filled, farmers and dairy workers slung the cans using handles on either side of the can. Dairy farmers would transport the full cans to dairies where they would sell the milk, or leave them in cool spring houses for the dairy drivers to pick up.
But in 1938, the first farm bulk tanks began to pick up the milk from farmer. That development sounded the death knell for the utilitarian milk can.
Smaller versions in Fike's collection contained cream, and even smaller cans were used by schoolchildren for their daily lunch milk. She also has a colander -- painted with daisies -- that was used to separate the cream from the milk.
"It's rare that anyone has as many as you do," Schantz says to Fike.
Fike believes that's because of the way they look when she finds them. Most unused milk cans were left in barns or outside to deteriorate.
"They look awful," Fike says. "People don't see the potential. You have to see the potential in a milk can." And Fike does.
Once she buys a milk can, Fike has a local autobody shop sandblast the rusty and dirty exterior to the bare metal and then prime it with automobile paint. Then she consults Schantz about potential subjects for an artistic rendering on the cylindrical form.
"They are extremely practical," Fike says. "You can put anything on them. We use them every day. Do you know how well a wine glass sits there⢠Without a lid, it's an umbrella stand."
"Or a plant holder," Schantz says. Or a lamp table, another of Fike's uses.
Fike and her husband, Bill, a Fayette County native, find the milk cans handy when entertaining their four children and nine grandchildren. Nine years ago, the couple bought their century-old home, which after years as an apartment building was restored by a previous owner. Fike, an inveterate auction attendee and antiques shopper, has filled it with finds she has had refurbished.
The only milk can in Fike's collection that is not decorated is simply painted milky white. It is adorned with a metal plate commemorating a Fayette County dairy farm that Bill Fike's uncle, the late Francis Fike, owned.
