The old man was a legend in this part of the country, both as a cattleman and a shrewd businessman. Deans of business colleges would have been better served spending the day with him, rather than flying halfway across the country to some symposium because, if there was a dollar to be made, the old man would find a way to make a buck-fifty.
I never met the gentleman, personally, but I’ve heard stories about him for the past 30 years and read, with great interest, his obituary this past winter. He was a man who started out with little more than a good horse and few old cows. With no formal education, he relied on common sense, hard work, and the uncanny ability to recognize a bargain or, in most cases, a potential bargain.
He would sit in the sale barn for hours on end and eventually find that pen of cows, calves, or yearlings that, for some reason known only to the auction gods, would find no interest. Perhaps there was a lull in the auctioneers voice, a trip to the restroom for the buyers with an order for that type of cattle, or who knows what, but the old man would swoop in like an eagle on a titmouse and snatch them up before anyone knew what was going on. Most times, he’d probably make a couple of calls and have them sold before he even loaded them on his trailer. His philosophy was make a quick, safe and sure, modest profit several times per week instead of holding out for that big score a couple of times a year.
His skills weren’t restricted to livestock. Machinery, equipment and land held just as much potential – if the selling value was known…and the old man always seemed to know their value. Knowing that a neighbor needed a good used baler and hearing about one that was in decent shape two counties away would put him on the trail in double time.
From all I’ve heard about him, the old man would never set out to intentionally cheat someone, but if that same someone’s inexperience, stupidity or greed opened the gate for them to hang themselves on a deal, the old man would gladly lend them all the rope they’d ever need.
Most of his business was done on a handshake, and his word was his bond. Reportedly, he once said, “If a man’s word ain’t no good, then why the hell would his signature be any better?” And again, according to people who knew him, if anyone was ever dishonest in some dealing with the old man, they would live to regret it, because he wouldn’t just get even – he’d get ahead.
The legend was also notorious for being the most frugal person most people had ever met. By the time he had reached his golden years, the old man had acquired more than a dozen farms and “owned the paper” on at least that many more. Many of the farms had decent homes on them that the old man gladly rented out for a monthly fee. One night, one of the homes accidentally caught fire and was destroyed beyond feasible repair. No one was hurt and the old man quickly provided one of his other houses for the displaced renters. When the renters returned in a couple of days to retrieve any personal property that was salvageable, they were surprised to find the old man meticulously pulling nails and straightening them with a hammer before pitching them into 5-pound coffee cans.
Surprised by what he saw, the renter stated, “Everyone knows you’ve got enough money to burn a wet mule and new nails only cost a couple of dollars per pound, so why are you out here in the hot sun, saving old nails?”
The old man began to chuckle as he pointed to two cans, completely full of slightly used, mostly straight nails. “Sonny-boy, right there is how to become an owner, instead of a renter.”
