Over the years, I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to several cattlemen’s meetings all across the Midwest and South, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every one of them. Like-minded people, getting together to learn, share and visit is something that is truly American and I can honestly say I learn something about cattle at every meeting. Last week, I learned something about people, too.
I had been contacted by the president of a county cattlemen’s association back in the early part of summer. He had heard about me from a friend, however his email correspondence asked for references of recent talks I had given, fee structure for my services and travel, and biographical information such as education and background in beef production. This was unusual, but I was happy to provide him with such. Finally, after I had almost forgotten about his requests, I received an email soliciting my attendance on a particular date. I agreed.
I did a little research and discovered that the Kansas county that I would be traveling to was in the middle of the Flint Hills, the second largest county in that state, and that beef was the economic backbone of that county. The event at which I was to speak was the 86th Annual Cattlemen’s Ball and was the conclusion to a weekend of activities that included a trade show, pancake breakfast, parade and ranch rodeo. The entire county was involved.
When I arrived at the meeting hall, I was shocked to see cowboys of all ages dressed in their Sunday-go-to-meeting best, accompanied by wives dressed as elegantly as any big-city gala would warrant. I was glad that I had slapped on a coat and tie at the last moment.
Inside the large auditorium, I quickly realized that this was no ordinary county meeting; tables were adorned with beautiful accessories, gift bags were prepared for every attendee, and I could see a band setting up in a far corner, preparing for the dance that would follow my little talk.
I finally got to meet the gentleman with whom I had been communicating through emails. He introduced himself as a cattleman and spoke in a very soft and deliberate manner. I felt comfortable and at ease with the old cattleman as we visited before the festivities began. He ushered me to my seat, beside the podium. He quickly introduced me to the people seated next to me and then went to the podium, himself, to get things underway.
He stood at the podium for a minute, just standing, without a word. I began to feel uneasy as the large crowd of several hundred people continued to buzz noisily with no sign of stopping. I leaned over to the gentleman and whispered, “Does the microphone not work?”
He looked at me, smiled and stated very stoically, “I don’t use microphones.”
After a very awkward two to three minutes more, a quiet began on one side of the auditorium and began to drift across like smoke from a fresh brand on a calm day. In another couple of minutes, the entire gathering was quiet enough to hear the ice cubes clinking as people sipped their drinks. The president began his welcome.
After he was finished and the invocation was delivered, we began eating the delicious steaks that had been prepared for the banquet. “It was impressive how you managed to get this huge crowd quiet without saying a word,” I declared.
“People are just like cattle,” he quietly replied. “The only way to work‘em fast is to work‘em slow, and be as quiet as possible.”
