Ranching: A Kingdom for .8 of a Calf

A hundred years ago, Texas Rancher Charles Goodnight became a living legend of the West because of the way in which he and his Winchester-armed cowhands fought off rustlers during cattle drives and hanged without trial any they captured. Today, things are changed. Take the case of New Mexico Rancher George Farr, who last week had to fight off not rustlers but the U.S. Air Force. Farr was driving 500 head of cattle from his ranch to a rail head 40 miles away; the Air Force was about to fire an Athena missile from Green River, Utah, to White Sands, N. Mex. Farr figured that the cattle and the second stage of the missile would reach the same piece of trail at the same time, doggedly persuaded the Air Force to reschedule the shoot and give the cattle right of way.

Modern cattlemen herd their cattle by helicopter, brand them with dry ice instead of red-hot irons, talk about "gatherings" instead of roundups, depend on a good accountant more than a wise old foreman and, when they fade into the sunset, do so in pickup trucks with their trusty horses comfortably trailered on behind. About the only things old pokes would still recognize about the industry, indeed, are its size and its troubles. Cattle roam no less than 40% of all the land in the U.S., account for 20% of all farm income and the principal revenues of at least eleven states; they are worth more annually than wheat, corn and cotton combined. But even with the average U.S. consumer eating a record 105.5 Ibs. of beef products a year, livestock prices have remained nearly constant for 15 years, while costs have risen 73%. "The cattle business is caught in a cost-price squeeze," says American National Cattlemen's Association Vice President C. William McMillan. "It is on shaky ground."

Two Hats, Nine Spreads. Faced by the squeeze and the modernization necessary to escape it, small ranchers are giving up. Not too long ago, a herd of 150 cattle could be grazed economically; today 400 represent the lowest economical unit. The trend is to younger, leaner cattle, raised on bigger, better spreads. The biggest operation of all, and a beacon for the industry, belongs to Robert O. Anderson, 50, who wears one big hat as chairman and chief executive of the Atlantic Richfield Co., doffs that for a cattleman's Stetson when he turns to the business he enjoys most. With nine ranches that occupy a million acres and support 13,000 cattle and feed lots that can fatten 100,000 at a time, Anderson is one of the largest landowners in the U.S. His annual gross of about $1,500,000 makes him more than a match for such legendary barons as Goodnight or King Ranch Founder Richard King.