No, Daddy liked the kind that were little bushes, about a foot high. Two feet if you were lucky. The beans hung down on the underside of the bush. I have to admit that they were wonderful beans, but what a pain to pick. Hoeing was no picnic, but it beat picking them.
He always planted a HUGE garden, and as the boy in the family, I was expected to do my part. (My sister's chores were inside the house. She thought I was lucky. In retrospect, we were both lucky.) I'd get stationed at one end of a row with a large bucket and be told to get started. There were many rows, and they went on and on and on...
Do y'all remember Golden Crown syrup? It came in a blue can with a gold crown on it.