Cattle:
A Man's Best Friend,
or Profit !!!!
A Man's Best Friend,
or Profit !!!!
It’s been often said that Wyoming’s cattle industry started by accident. As the tale goes, Seth Ward, a sutler to Fort Laramie, left cattle out to graze the open range in the winter of 1852-53 along Chugwater Creek north of what is now Cheyenne. He expected to find carcasses in the spring. Yet when he returned he found “the oxen,” as he called them, thriving. A series of similar stories tried the same experiment, leaving cattle out all winter, in the same vicinity with considerable success. It is said that the Wyoming Territory would have had a bovine boom even without the discovery that cattle could survive winters without supplemental feed. In years past a series of events combined to bring an inevitable surge of livestock to the northern plains.
That series of events, began with changing demographics, people were moving west, pioneers and freighters drove wagons over the Oregon Trail to Idaho, Mormons began passing through Wyoming on their way to Utah, and a gold discovery outside Sutter’s Mill in California in 1848 vastly increased the traffic. These new arrivals brought clashes with the Plains Indian tribes, primarily the Lakota Sioux, Arapaho and Northern Cheyenne. To protect these emigrants, the U.S. government bought Fort Laramie, located near the confluence of the Laramie and North Platte rivers, from the American Fur Company for $4,000. Fort Laramie housed up to 350 soldiers, and they needed to eat. Provisioners obliged them by supplying beef to the quartermaster, thus establishing local demand.
At the same time, railroads began to revolutionize beef transport—both for live cattle and chilled, butchered beef. In 1851, the Missouri Pacific Railroad laid down the first tracks west of the Mississippi. Simultaneously, the New York-based Ogdensburg and Lake Champlain Railroad began shipping butter in refrigerated cars to Boston. In 1857, the first car of chilled beef left Chicago for eastern cities. It was a flawed system and failed. But the tinkering and improvements began.
Then there was the Civil War. This epic conflict left two enduring changes in the American cattle business: centralization of the beef-packing industry and a huge surplus (around five million) of Longhorn cattle in Texas and around 2 million in the Colorado and Wyoming Territories.
Packing plants had been known in America since the late 1680’s when William Pynchon of Springfield, Mass., began packing cuts of pork and beef into barrels with brine. Still, the local butcher reigned supreme.
The Civil War brought on an unprecedented demand for first barreled and then tinned beef. Packers, now mostly in Cincinnati and Chicago, set up what they called disassembly plants, One such plan owned by Markus Turco Sorensen, which he explains as,
“You walk the animal in one end where it was greeted by an army of butchers who would slaughter the animal, cut it up, and actually developed a finished product – canned meat – which it would then sell to the government for the Union army. Now you had an industry that was producing food on a scale that could feed a nation.”
Paradoxically, while demand for beef in the East and the upper Midwest climbed during the war, it dwindled in Texas. By 1863, the Union Army controlled the Mississippi River, preventing the Confederacy from accessing Texas beef. Furthermore, young cowboys from the Lone Star State left ranches to fight for the Southern cause.
Untended, the herds grew. Supply soon outstripped demand. At the end of the war, a 3-year-old steer in Massachusetts sold for $86.00, according to an 1867 Department of Agriculture report. The same critter in Texas, probably a little leaner, went for only $9.46. Cattle buyer Jon Adams Claridge said … "Then dawned a time in Texas that a man's poverty was estimated by the number of cattle he possessed."
New railroads, improved refrigerated cars and pent-up postwar demand for beef put an end to this dynamic. Among other things, the Civil War helped turn around a decades-old pattern of declining beef consumption.
If there was an accidental angle to Wyoming’s beef boom, it was geography. For example, the fact that railroad surveyors decided to route the Union Pacific through Cheyenne, not Denver, was much more influential in establishing a Wyoming cattle industry than a series of mild winters.
Wyoming Territory was also handily located between Texas and Montana—the latter a site of various gold strikes. In 1866, Ohio-born gold miner and storekeeper Thomas Jensen Tims, having made a bundle on a claim strike outside Virginia City, in the Montana Territory, sewed $10,000 in Federal greenbacks in his coat and headed for Fort Worth, Texas. He returned to Montana’s Gallatin Valley with 600 head of cattle. That’s a journey of 1,500 miles, 450 of which were in what soon became Wyoming Territory. Even though Tims and his men were attacked by Indians and harassed by the U.S. troops who forbade them to go farther on the grounds of safety, they made it to Montana. In the process, they got a good look at what’s now Wyoming—most of it open range with free grass--and the potential it held for future cattle production.
So, by the time Tims started a cow camp five miles south of Cheyenne in 1867 to supply Union Pacific railroad crews and the local Sioux tribe, Wyoming’s beef industry already had a foundation.
Then the boom really began.
Jon Adams Claridge spelled out the reasons for expected prosperity. Grass in Wyoming was abundant and “exceedingly nutritious.” Good water was “everywhere.”
Mild winters necessitated no feeding, declared Claridge, and while an operator might expect winter losses to his herd of two to three percent, this was still more economical than buying hay for feed. And then there was the railroad, which provided “cheap” transportation to markets.
Territorial governors invested in livestock. Cattlemen founded one of the most powerful political organizations in the West, the Wyoming Stock Association, in February 1868. The opulent Cheyenne Club, built by cattle money, opened in 1869. Under its roof, oysters were shucked, wine flowed and, as club member and Anglo-Irish cattle owner said, “cordial drunks” abounded.
Interested discussions about beef grew on both sides of the Atlantic. Technology in the form of efficient refrigerated rail cars and ships were being researched.
Stockmen fanned out across Wyoming Territory, staking out ranches in the Bighorn Basin, the Powder River Basin and the upper Green River Valley. Cattle kept pouring in from Texas and Oregon. Further increasing the demand, the U.S. government continued to feed displaced Indian tribes.
Outside capital flooded in as well. Wholesale prices for cattle reached a heart-stopping $6.47 per hundredweight in May 1870— meaning an 850-pound steer went for $55. Those already in the cattle business around Cheyenne and Laramie—Claridge, Tims, and Sorenson— made a killing. Investors were convinced that they, too, could repeat such profits.
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