Fast Food Nation - Eric Schlosser [81]
A 1996 USDA investigation of concentration in the beef industry found that many ranchers were afraid to testify against the large meatpacking companies, fearing retaliation and “economic ruin.” That year Mike Callicrate, a cattleman from St. Francis, Kansas, decided to speak out against corporate behavior he thought was not just improper but criminal. “I was driving down the road one day,” Callicrate told me, “and I kept thinking, when is someone going to do something about this? And I suddenly realized that maybe nobody’s going to do it, and I had to give it a try.” He claims that after his testimony before the USDA committee, the large meatpackers promptly stopped bidding on his cattle. “I couldn’t sell my cattle,” he said. “They’d drive right past my feed yard and buy cattle from a guy two hundred miles further away.” His business has recovered somewhat; ConAgra and Excel now bid on his cattle. The experience has turned him into an activist. He refuses to “make the transition to slavery quietly.” He has spoken at congressional hearings and has joined a dozen other cattlemen in a class-action lawsuit against IBP. The lawsuit claims that IBP has for many years violated the Packers and Stockyards Act through a wide variety of anticompetitive tactics. According to Callicrate, the suit will demonstrate that the company’s purported efficiency in production is really “an efficiency in stealing.” IBP denies the charges. “It makes no sense for us to do anything to hurt cattle producers,” a top IBP executive told a reporter, “when we depend upon them to supply our plants.”
the threat of wealthy neighbors
THE COLORADO CATTLEMEN’S ASSOCIATION filed an amicus brief in Mike Callicrate’s lawsuit against IBP, demanding a competitive marketplace for cattle and a halt to any illegal buying practices being used by the large meatpacking firms. Ranchers in Colorado today, however, face threats to their livelihood that are unrelated to fluctuations in cattle prices. During the past twenty years, Colorado has lost roughly 1.5 million acres of ranchland to development. Population growth and the booming market for vacation homes have greatly driven up land costs. Some ranchland that sold for less than $200 an acre in the 1960s now sells for hundreds of times that amount. The new land prices make it impossible for ordinary ranchers to expand their operations. Each head of cattle needs about thirty acres of pasture for grazing, and until cattle start producing solid gold nuggets instead of sirloin, it’s hard to sustain beef production on such expensive land. Ranching families in Colorado tend to be land-rich and cash-poor. Inheritance taxes can claim more than half of a cattle ranch’s land value. Even if a family manages to operate its ranch profitably, handing it down to the next generation may require selling off large chunks of land, thereby diminishing its productive capacity.
Along with the ranches, Colorado is quickly losing its ranching culture. Among the students at Harrison High you see a variety of fashion statements: gangsta wannabes, skaters, stoners, goths, and punks. What you don’t see — in the shadow of Pikes Peak, in the heart of the Rocky Mountain West — is anyone dressed even remotely like a cowboy. Nobody’s wearing shirts with snaps or Justin boots. In 1959, eight of the nation’s top ten TV shows were Westerns. The networks ran thirty-five Westerns in prime time every week, and places like Colorado, where real cowboys