The interview was conducted by BLM archeologist Brenda Wilkinson, as part of an oral history project of the Bureau of Land Management in Socorro.
How was your operation affected by winter weather? Do you recall any major losses due to winter weather?
Uh, let's see. We had two big snow storms that I can remember here. I think one was in 1968 and the next one was exactly 20 years later. And we had to break trails for the cattle to go up in the mountains and get to the south slope where the snow had melted. The south slopes were melted off. So big snow storms are somethin' we're afraid of. Now there's been more here that I never saw, but they're pretty infrequent, fortunately.
As far as weather and hardships, did you lose a lot of cattle?
Oh, we didn't have any death loss, but we were able to get 'em to the mountains.
And then you mentioned that big drought, '50 to 57, do you remember any others?
It's a, almost a continuous drought...with a few good years.
Were there any fences on the ranch?
Oh fences, the ranch wasn't fenced 'til '57 and '58. The Hubbells was over there, they didn't want any fence to run sheep. Other side was uh, Luna-Vergere, they ran sheep. They didn't want any fence. So we had to get on our horse and go bring them cattle home. Until Oliver Lee moved in [1950s], and we built fence. Kenneth Mimms had the Y Ranch leased, and we got together and built that.
When did the ranch get electricity?
They had a wind charger way back in the 40s I guess. The late 40s. And they got REA [Rural Electrification Administration] here, probably '59, or somewhere in there. Yeah that would be '59. Telephones in the 80s maybe? Yeah, Catron County was the only county seat in the US without a telephone. [laughing]
Farr said that there never was a spring on the ranch. They never had a spring until they acquired Jack Spring. They did drill wells, and early wells were drilled with horse-powered rigs. Ben Kemp drilled about 4 wells before 1910, with horses.
Describe a round of work throughout the year, as you recall it from your childhood.
Well, you ride fences and fix 'em all year round. And you fix windmills, year round. And then of course, you had the spring round-up and brand, move the cattle to the mountains. And you have the fall round up and ship cattle. Winter you'd throw a lotta ice out of the water troughs. In fact, if you guys stick around, we can go pull a well today! [laughing]
When was additional labor hired?
From the beginning, they had sheepherders. Well, if they didn't herd 'em, the coyotes’d, bobcats and lions would put 'em outta business in the matter of a month. Or less.
And then later on, when it was cattle?
Well, it’d probably be my father and maybe one man. Probably year round. And he'd maybe get some help to deliver cattle, and brand.
That's a lot of country to handle on your own.
Well, they always had to work shorthanded.
How did your family market the livestock in the early days?
Oh, they'd meet cattle buyers, and contract the cattle by private treaty. I know one time my father took a bunch of cattle to Magdalena--big calves. And, and they were worth a nickel a pound, but he couldn't find a buyer, and they were in that stockyards in Magdalena. And he met Joe Swartzman, and Joe said, “Well, I'll give ya six cents for the calves that are worth a nickel, but, I can't pay ya. You let me take 'em and, feed 'em and butcher 'em and sell the meat, and then I'll pay ya.” So they shook hands, and away the calves went. After all this time…he got paid, with just a handshake deal…and that's the way it used to be. Now you gotta get advanced wired deposits before the cattle leave or you liable not to get any money. That's not with all the buyers, but some of 'em.
Before the cattle, when your family had sheep, do you know how they marketed the sheep?
Well, they always had cattle and sheep, but I don't know anything about how they sold the sheep. All I know is that they'd load 'em on double deck cars in Magdalena. They'd ship the wool, I think to New Orleans, and go by boat around to New York. They'd do that so it'd absorb moisture, and weigh more when it got there. [laughing] Somethin'--what I heard, I don't know.
How have market fluctuations affected the profitability of your ranch?
Well drastically! We'd sell bred heifers for four hundred dollars a head, and we've sold 'em for twelve hundred and fifty dollars a head. And I remember one cattle buyer…he was a friend of ours, and he came out and offered my father a certain price for a bunch of heifers. My father didn't take it. He left, the buyer did. They got together not too long later, a month, and they both decided - that's when two damn fools met. 'Cause the buyer offered way too much, and my father wouldn't take it. [laughing] So it changed that much in, a week or two.
In the early days, was it necessary to arrange for credit?
Yeah. My father told me a lot of bad stories about borrowin' money.
Do you know where he got money from?
Yeah. He'd borrow money from the First National Bank in Albuquerque, and maybe need a loan extension. And he'd go up there and sit all day tryin' to see the bank president, and he said he could watch the president sittin' at his desk, nobody in there, and the president wouldn't see 'im. Hafta go back and wait all day again. So that's trouble isn't it? That's during the depression.
Other than weather-related losses, did you have any major losses related to disease, predation, or toxic vegetation?
Oh, occasionally a little. We lost…I don't know…fifteen or twenty at once on the poison weed.
And predators?
That's constant. Well, you lose calves to the coyotes, and now it's startin' with the wolves. This year we lost three cows and a yearling to a bear. They trapped the bear over on our neighbors. We had a trapper out here trying to trap 'im, but he'd already moved. So they killed that bear…must've been the same one, we never had no more trouble.
What about disease?
Well, when we really started using trucks, that's when the disease come in. 'Cause they'd truck cattle from Florida to California, and come and load calves here, and a little manure'd fall out, and germs in it. Well, we could lose forty, fifty head right in a hurry there before we'd found the right vaccine. And that took several years. So anyway, a lot of diseases have been spread by the trucks. Be in the eastern seaboard, and two or three days later they're loadin' here. And then our cattle aren't immune to those foreign diseases.
Can you describe any measures taken to increase profitability, such as diversification, hybrid livestock or technology?
Well, I don't know. Roy's used the technology where we about have the diseases whipped. We don't have much death loss to disease anymore. And the cross breedin' has helped, and the weights of the cattle. And he's even sold some cattle on uh, all natural basis. You know, where they haven't received any antibiotics and all this stuff. No implants. We implanted for a few years. We quit it, so the cattle are pretty pure other than vaccines and shots they allow for immunization.
Do you get more money for 'em then?
We only did it once, and it was very profitable. We made a hundred dollars a head.
Really? I think more and more people want that.
Apparently so. He’s entered two more truckloads this year and we'll see what happens. They're pretty strict.
How did the Taylor Grazing Act affect you?
Well, they allotted us country that we could use, three miles from the waters, and before that it was open range. So then you knew where you could run cattle I guess, and where you could build fences.
Johnny Greenwald, he was the original District Manager or whatever you call 'em. Fact, I was a little kid, I can remember ridin' around with Johnny and somebody and my father, and they were allotin' all these permits, right after the Taylor Grazing Act. There wasn't any BLM then.
The final installment of the Dave Farr oral history appears in next week’s Mountain Mail.
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