University of Virginia Library

Wheeling And Dealing For Best Beef Around

By BARBARA HAND

Another dismal Saturday
morning rolls around and
prospects for the day look dim.
The idea of another afternoon
in the library is just too much
to bear. Why not try the best
entertainment in Albemarle
County – a cattle auction.

The day I attempted to see
how the other half of
Charlottesville lives, it was
rainy and muddy, par for-local
weather. But the weather
certainly didn't dampen the
spirits of the rowdy crowd
which assembled in a rambling,
barn-like structure off Route
20.

As the 1 p.m. starting time
for the auction came closer,
farmers and their families from
scattered farms throughout the
county came straggling in to
the arena area where the
livestock is auctioned off. Most
of the cowmen were decked in
jeans, flannel shirts and boots,
often with a wad of tobacco in
their mouths and radiating a
smell of perspiration. All those
old preconceptions about the
dumb farmer came to mind.

Pure Souls

As they say, though,
appearances can be deceiving. I
soon learned that behind the
rough exterior layer of these
Charlottesville country people
are pure souls and good minds.
And they are the best
wheeler-dealers around.

No one can fool them.
They know a good steer when
they see one. With x-ray vision
the cowmen can look into a big
ole' Black Angus and figure
out just how many delmoni
and rib steaks they could get
off his carcass. They make it
their business to know every
in and out of the cattle
business.

Glancing over the
motley-looking crowd who sat
in the stands that face the
auctioneer, it was fun to try
and figure out just what they
were all there for. Some of the
folks wanted entertainment
while others needed quick cash
and wanted to sell off some
livestock in a hurry. Still
another farmer had extra feed
and needed to buy another
cow.

CD/Andy Groher

Country People Are Pure Souls And Good Minds

Livestock auctioned off
ranged in size from a 1500 lb.
bull to a baby goat, all sold per
pound. Like a bull weighed in
at about 500 went for 47 cents
a pound. When the bull entered
the arena at the bottom of the
stands, the auctioneer started
sounding off in a quick, almost
unintelligible slur..."Give me
forty-six...forty-six
cents...really good cow..." With
the nod of his head he
acknowledged the next bid and
continued droning
..."Forty-seven cents, don't
pass it up, forty-seven..." When
the last bid was sounded, he
proclaimed, "Sold to the man
in the back!"

Pros

One could sit at an auction
all afternoon without ever
hearing a bid. Most of the
bidding is done by old pros,
each having his own special
signal. One gritty-looking
cowman would slyly pull his
ear while another would make
a quick wink that only the
auctioneer saw. If the farmer
decided the bidding had gone
too high for him, he'd just
shake his head to let the
auctioneer know he was out.

Blending in with the crowd
that rainy Saturday afternoon
was one inconspicuous-type
fellow by the name of Larned
Randolph. In his early sixties,
his face is worn with the
weather. It's the type of face
that lets you know he's done a
lot of hard living. Having just
paid $500 for a bull, he was
still in a state of excitement
mixed with nervousness. The
constant drone of the
auctioneer's voice makes
everyone – buyer or not – a
little nervous.

I wanted to know just what
makes a man like Randolph
devote his life to farming and
cattle. It was probably a lack
of education or training for
other professions, I guessed. So
I boldly approached the cattle
man, naively asking just what
his educational background
was.

"I'm a '32 grad of Yale,"
came the astonishing reply.

"I've always wanted to go
into farming," he continued,
"even the entire time I was at
New Haven studying English. I

was raised on a farm and
always wanted to go back to
that type of living."

This was hard for me to
comprehend – farming over a
life of financial success in the
big city?

"All my time is my own,"
the small-statured man quietly
explained. "I'm my own boss
and I'm working with my
hands."

As far as the money angle
of farming goes, Randolph just
said, "It's getting better...cattle
prices are awfully good now."
But the truth of the matter is
that Randolph really doesn't
care about the money. Like he
said, "You'll never get rich
farming."

The same quiet appeal of
farming, the thought of being
your own man, has also pulled
in third-year law student
Francis McGovern. He started
contemplating the "simple joys
in life" when he was drafted
out of school four years ago.

Cattle

"When I was overseas, there
was plenty of time to reflect
on things I'd like to do," said
the tall, reddish-haired student.
"One of those things was
fooling around with cattle...it's
all connected with the
Jeffersonian individual idea. I
wanted to do something on my
own, something that would
involve me with nature."

Upon his return to law
school, Francis bought some
cattle to keep out at his place
at Green Springs. "I found it
was all so fascinating, being
outside, tromping around. Such
a welcome change from the
classroom."

But what he enjoys the
most is "being involved with
people who are really down to
earth." And "down to earth" is
exactly what characterizes
those county folks who gather
every Saturday at the weekly
auction.

Next Saturday afternoon,
when you can't think of
anything new to do, why not
try the local cattle auction? It's
not so much a less on livestock
– it's a lesson on life.