From Self-Reliance to Cooperation: The Early Development of the Cattleman's Associations in Utah

Utah Historical Quarterly

Vol. 35, 1967, No. 3

From Self-Relianceto Cooperation: The Early Development of the Cattlemen's Associations in Utah

BY DON D. WALKER

I n the myth of the West, the cattleman has always been a rugged individualist. Like the mountain man before him, he has been a loner, a man given to solving his own problems in his own way. Although under the necessities of his business he has organized his roundups and trail drives, he has organized them as he has thrown his rope, as an expression of his personal know-how and rightful personal power. In the myth he has respected few institutions, and he has wanted no dependence on, and few dealings with, government.

Such a view of the cattleman does have some basis in historical fact. For a time at least isolation was a geographical reality; for a time society in any meaningful sense was nonexistent. The pioneering individual, whether he really liked it or not, was forced to assume the burdens of what rural sociologists might later have called a social cost of space. "Being sparsely settled in those early days," remembered J. R. Blocker, first president of the Old Trail Drivers Association, "the ranches being ten to fifty miles apart, counties unorganized and courts very few, every man in a way was a 'law unto himself...."

Such conditions led not only to fence-cutting, brand-blotting, and lynching, but also to range overcrowding and eventual depletion. The period of 1880 to 1900, wrote Albert F. Potter, stockman and first chief of grazing for the Forest Service, became a period of spoliation. "The use of the range degenerated into a struggle in which only the fittest survived, and the permanent good of the industry was sacrificed to individual greed. Natural laws and rules of justice were blindly disregarded."

In 1885 the Salt Lake Herald observed in an editorial: "Every stockman has been for himself, and we fear that in too many instances the individuals have been arrayed against each other to such an extent that one would not put himself out to assist, accommodate or protect the other. Mutual protection against thieves will be a great advantage to all over the old way of every owner watching his own interests, and caring nothing for those of others."

This note of mutual protection, struck on the day of the organization of the Utah Cattle and Horse Growers' Association, was a sign of the new spirit in the livestock trade, a new maturity, some might have said. That same week an observer reported in a congressional study: "The stockman is no longer a lawless semisavage adventurer, but is a practical man of business. ... In a word, the whole industry of raising range cattle is becoming established and well ordered." But for the whole story of order and organization, the rise of associations in county, territory, state, and nation, let us go back a few years.

As early as 1867 such common problems as theft and damage from migratory herds drew the livestock men of Colorado together to form the Stock Growers' Association. However, this apparent unity of interest did not long prevail; the growing cleavage between cattlemen and sheepmen deepened. The organization became the Colorado Cattle Growers' Association, and its president asserted that sheep and cattle interests had nothing in common but the grass on which their animals grazed. By 1877 membership reached 88, representing "nearly 600,000 cattle." Continuing problems of theft and strays are indicated by the facts that in 1884 the association had 12 brand inspectors and reported 586 strays.

In other states and territories similar associations were formed, but unquestionably the most powerful was the Wyoming Stock Growers' Association, organized in November of 1873 with 10 members. Concerned with the planning of roundups, with the appointing of detectives, and other range matters, the association steadily grew in numbers and political influence. In his report of 1885, Secretary Thomas Sturgis claimed 400 members, with holdings (including 2 million cattle) valued at $100 million.

However effective such associations might be, the need for a still higher organization was soon recognized. The cattle business had long crossed state and territorial boundaries, but certain problems of the eighties more and more aroused the collective attention of cattlemen in all western areas. Obviously the driving of cattle from Texas to Montana was a matter as wide as the nation. Obviously the search for new grazing lands in the arid West was as big as the public lands themselves. In November of 1884, such problems of national dimension became the center of interest and controversy as 1,200 stockmen gathered in St. Louis.

Attending this "cowboy convention" was a sizable delegation from the Territory of Utah. A week earlier these cattlemen, "from the owners of a new milch cow to the broadbrimmed herder on a thousand hills," had felt their economic importance as the railroads contended for their good will in what the press called the "Free Pass War." The Denver and Rio Grande Railroad offered free passes to the men, half fares to their wives. The Union Pacific went the whole way with passes for both cattle- men and wives. Reported the Salt Lake Herald wryly: "A number of rangers are understood to have held back till the last moment, under the impression that one of the roads was about to offer cooking stoves or bedroom sets in addition to the passes. . . ." Apparently such competition in generosity led to some freeloading. As The D. & R. G. pulled out, someone remarked to a reporter: "They call that a load of cattlemen, do they; I know men there who don't know the meaning of a muley cow and who never owned a horn in their lives." Nevertheless, on one railroad or the other, many of Utah's best known cattlemen traveled to St. Louis for the big meeting.

Of the journey and the meeting, one of the cattlemen, H. J. Faust, sent back interesting and often amusing accounts. From Denver he reported that the group had ordered two lassos and "will capture the convention," and in a joke on his own interest in better livestock breeding he wrote that "Faust got a little mixed . . . and on one occasion advocated jacks." There were other bits of good fun too. When the party in Denver returned to the hotel for their baggage, they learned that the landlord had "a chromo hung up for two years for the most upright, virtuous young man, which was unclaimed." Continued Faust, "Our party having just such a man along, your reporter was instructed by the delegation to demand it for him. All advancing to the office, your reporter demanded the chromo in a loud, stentorian voice, so that all heard. The landlord looking around awhile, still demanded proof, whereon the whole delegation asserted that we had him, and the picture was handed over, when I, in a solemn manner, as the occasion was solemn, presented it to John Rydalch, from Grantsville, in a long speech, with the concluding remark, 'we hope you will now cease to pay so much attention to cows, and hunt a heifer.' "

From Denver east the Faust party took the Chicago, Burlington & Quincey, continuing in the regal style to which their new importance seemingly entitled them. When they reached the station they found "five Pullman cars of the finest make, all decorated with bunting and paintings of horses and cattle heads, with a goodly number of cattle and horses." "Ours," said Faust, "has been surrounded with red, white and blue, stars and stripes, with four lassoes hanging around the outside, indicative that we came to conquer or die! A smoking car and a car containing the delegation was attached. . . . Fancy yourself whirling down the Platte at the rate of fifty to sixty miles an hour and you have got it just as we had it." One could not imagine, Faust observed, "that these same men had traversed the same route on a sore-backed mule or Indian pony; camped, perhaps, at or near the same station, with saleratus biscuit, old bacon and coffee, without sugar or cream. Look at them now. No one would think that they ever swore when the pot turned over just as breakfast was ready, but such is the reward of labor, perseverance and patience."

On the 17th of November the great show commenced with a march of the various delegations to the exposition building. The Texas group, 200 strong, brought up the rear. Marching music blared from a "silver band, composed entirely of cowboys, with leggings and spurs on; the leader carried a large pistol, silver plated, with his thumb on the stock, and his finger on the trigger, flourishing it in the same manner as other leaders do their sticks. It was a thrilling sight to see him stand in front of the band, one hand on his hip, hat cocked on one side, dropping the revolver first on this and then on that one. The music was beautiful and time well kept. I think," concluded Faust, "that other bands should adopt the revolver system."

In some of the serious matters before the convention, the Utah stockmen had perhaps no urgent personal interest. The "great question" was the stock trail, but this trail, if established, would lie a great distance east of Utah. The cattlemen of the territory needed no such road to their markets, and their own home ranges were not threatened by Texas fever. Nevertheless, in apparent recognition of the needs of some of their fellow cattlemen in other parts of the West, Faust reported that the Utah group would "likely vote for it."

The resolution to ask for the leasing of arid lands, however, was another matter. Here Utah's own tradition of land settlement was challenged. The proposal to permit leasing of vast tracts of western lands at a cent an acre seemed, to some Utah stockmen at least, in the interest of monopoly. In a speech to the convention, Faust declared, "I don't wish to ask the government to lease me land so that I and my children can monopolize it for the next hundred years. . . . Let the man that wants to go and settle on that 160 acres of land — let him do so! We have demonstrated that we may go to the very foot of the hills and there raise lucerne; and upon that lucerne we can raise the calf, we can raise the colt, and we can raise the pig, and we can make the poor men happy." Then he turned to the men of Texas, to whom such a lyrical defense of homesteading could hardly have been persuasive, saying, you have won your trail with the help of our vote; now help us on this. But although Utah and a few other states were excepted from the resolution by amendment, the proposition carried.

With business and festivities concluded, the "cowboys" returned to their home states and territories. A national organization had been established, and national problems had been confronted. The specific advantages to each delegate could not perhaps be seen, but many of them must have found some measure of identity with stockmen across the land. As H. J. Faust, who was chosen vice-president for Utah, patriotically put it, "Utah for once has shaken hands with every State and Territory in this grand United States."

Still, at the territorial level, there was no stockmen's organization in Utah. And this clearly was the next step. Faust himself proposed to get things started. "I intend," he said, "starting upon a tour ... to get all parts of the Territory to organize into associations, and by the time of the next [national] convention we shall be a power, I hope."

W hether Faust spoke for all, if even most, Utah cattlemen at the national convention is impossible to know. In any case not long after his return to Utah, other, different grazing land philosophies began to be heard. Economically accurate or not, the differences, as they were heard publicly at least, tended to polarize into a conflict between the "cattle kings" and the "people." In a letter to the Salt Lake Herald, Joel Grover, of Nephi, argued in defense of the proposal to lease the arid lands to the cattle interests. But no matter how much he stood to gain personally, he cast his argument in broadly democratic terms. "If the government," he asked, "would throw open to the people the right of lease at, say 1 or 2 cents per acre, is it not certain that the poor men would quite as eagerly avail . . . [themselves] of the opportunity to possess ... a little pasture land as even the rich man would . . . ?" He asked further: "and in our country settlements would not our masses of poor people very eagerly acquire title to their cow-herd grounds?"

Ten days later, three stockmen from Mount Pleasant replied. Instead of securing the herd grounds for the people, they said, would not leasing cause exactly the reverse? Would not "the cattlemen secure them, and thus do great injury to the people of the country generally?" They were concerned too with what seemed a complete disregard for the sheep industry, "one of the most important industries of our country. . . . Shall any measures not in the nature of a benefit generally be forced upon us, and in the interest only of a few cattle kings? ... If these wealthy stock owners are desirous of acquiring title to large scopes of the public land, let them turn out their money, pay the government price and take it."

In the meantime Faust was organizing county associations. Early in January he met with stockmen of Tooele County and helped form their association. "I hope to see the co-operative principle truly carried out in Utah," he said. "These stock men do not claim to be cattle kings. Still they have about 15,000 head, and this does not include last year's sales or this spring's calves." By January 10, he claimed seven county organizations, with a membership of "about as many hundreds, and the good work is still going on."

The first move toward a territorial association came at this same time, but it did not originate with Faust and his cattlemen. There were more signs of deep disagreements among livestock leaders. To the interested observer, it must have seemed clear that unanimity was still a long way off, that old stubborn individualistic attitudes might yet prevail.

On January 9, 1885, stockmen, largely from Salt Lake and Juab counties, began to gather in Salt Lake City for a meeting of the Utah Cattle and Horse Growers' Association. William Jennings, of Salt Lake, was president; Joel Grover was secretary. The two main objects, said Grover, were protections against thieves and herds driven through the territory. "I have heard it said," he remarked, "that one-half the beef used in . . . Bingham has been stolen." These objects, he insisted, could not be achieved by means of the county organizations that were being formed. The counties could not individually afford to station agents and inspectors at camps where thieving was liable to be carried on. But if they united into a territorial organization, they could clearly afford it.

On the following day, January 10, 27 stockmen signed the articles of agreement. Besides Jennings and Grover the membership included such prominent cattlemen as John and Alma Hague, Samuel and William Mclntyre, and F. H. Meyers. Discussion showed that perhaps more than anything else stock theft had stirred these men to common action. Samuel Mclntyre said cattle were being driven at night to several of the mining camps. Enough stock was being stolen in this way, he said, to pay for the services of a dozen detectives. One item of discussion indicated how Utah differed from other grazing states and territories. The plains states, Wyoming, for example, were one unbroken common pasture, where unless there were extensive fences cattle from many ranches were accustomed to mixing. Association planned roundups were therefore imperative. Utah, however, was different. Roundups would not work in Utah, said F. H. Meyers, because stock was so scattered.

Even as the articles of agreement were signed, Faust and Grover engaged in a verbal walk-down. Arguing for a territorial organization — as if one were not already being formed — Faust said that if all the cattle and horsemen in Utah belonged to one association, with each member having a brand sheet and each county a detective and all in communication with each other, "how long do you think this country would be infested with thieves?" As a more personal note he added, "if you fellows still feel bad about that confounded convention making me vicepresident, and you will accept my resignation I will tender it. I will do anything to keep peace in Utah." Grover fired back: his association had a little money, was going to publish a brand book, establish a system of inspection, appoint detectives, and "as fast as possible complete a Territorial organization." Thus Faust's prediction would be carried out, was indeed being carried out. He too concluded with a personal shot: "If you are in earnest in 'let us have peace,' on that point we will agree with you and quietly look after our little herd of calves and give the public a rest."

The public, however, had little rest. On January 21, Faust announced a general cattle and horsemen's convention on April 2. "In this convention," he said, "all county associations will be expected to be represented by as many members as want to attend. These will elect a president and vice-president, with the rest of the officers for the Territory." Special matters for discussion, he went on to say, would be revision of brands, best modes of branding, and consideration of a fall stock fair.

Although the convention was still more than two months away, interest in it began to grow. In an editorial, the Salt Lake Herald told its readers that cattle and horse breeding was "destined to become one of the two or three leading occupations of the Territory." Faust continued to speak and organize. Late in January he addressed the Utah County stockmen in their organizational meeting. In the same week 80 names were enrolled in the Rich County association meeting at Randolph. On February 6, the Herald observed that the convention would be no insignificant affair. "It is not to be a meeting of the stockraisers of a town or county, nor a little gathering of gentlemen to have a jolly good time without meaning or effect. . . . The whole Territory," reported the Herald the following day, "seems to be waking up to the importance of the new interest, and organizations are springing into existence in the obscurest towns."

On February 7, over the names of H. J. Faust, vice-president National Cattle and Horse Association, and F. Armstrong, president, Salt Lake County Cattle and Horse Association, an official announcement appeared:

Realizing the necessity of co-operation in the protection of our stock interests, we invite the stockmen throughout this interior region to unite in forming a convention to be held April 2d, at Salt Lake City. We invite the co-operation of all who feel an interest in the movement, and suggest that the different associations and individual members thereof, express their views upon the subject.

The following subjects will be considered:

To suppress stealing. To procure needed legislation. The best means to dispose of our surplus stock. The refrigerator versus live shipping.

By the first of April the stage was set for the greatest gathering of stockmen in the territory's history. There were to be two conventions, not just one. The Utah Cattle and Horse Growers' Association, led by Jennings and Grover, was to meet in the City Hall; Faust's county associations were to convene in the Opera House. The railroads were to give conference rates. The Firemen's Band was to play; as the Herald put it, "the boys in red will parade the street, discoursing soul-stirring airs."

On April 1 "bronzed faces and slouched hats began to show themselves upon the highways and byways" leading to Salt Lake City.

U, nfortunately, for the unity of Utah's cattle interests, the stage was also set that spring of 1885 for one of the greatest — and most amusing — squabbles in territorial history.

In spite of apparently careful planning with the best of intentions, the show in the Opera House got off to a confused start. Attendance was scattered and leadership uncertain. Even the band for a time seemed pointless. As the Herald reported, "The Firemen's Band went about town drumming up for the occasion, but as no banners or streamers had been provided them, the object of their playing was not apparent to a good share of those who listened to them." After some delay the meeting opened. Faust as temporary chairman spoke on the importance and aims of the meeting. Utah, he said, had been the first of the territories to be settled up; it could not be the last to organize in the interests of its horse and cattlemen. A major aim of the meetings was to permit stockmen from various parts of the territory to become better acquainted so that they could exchange ideas and stock. Other aims, he reminded his listeners, were protection against the thief "who has been so mighty in our midst," better railroad rates, more equitable estray pound laws, and the revision of brands.

The chairman then asking the pleasure of the meeting, a member suggested a tune by the band. "Something short and quick," said the chairman, whereupon the band rendered "The Short-Horn Overture," as someone promptly named the selection. Whatever it was called, it was not an overture to steady and immediate action. Few delegates responded to call, and one whole delegation "sat somewhat gloomily by itself in a corner." However, one step was taken toward organization. Abram Hatch was chosen permanent chairman, and he struck the note that would prevail in the meetings: stubborn pride mixed with the necessity of compromise. "This, he thought, was a legitimate body, the only Territorial organization duly authorized, and he hoped it would proceed in so conciliatory a manner that before it adjourned it would reconcile all factions and differences into one grand organization."

As the delegates filed out of the Opera House after the morning adjournment, they were handed dodgers inviting "all parties interested in the stock question" to a meeting of the Utah Cattle and Horse Growers' Association. This invitation, remarked the Herald reporter, "did not serve to lighten the general spirits of the assembly."

When the stockmen met again in the afternoon, things seemed to look better. At least the major obstacle to effective organization had now been recognized, and leaders were prepared to cope with it. With such cattlemen as Jennings, Grover, and the Mclntyres working in another direction, no truly territorial association could be formed in the Opera House. "Utah," said one of the delegates, "could not afford to have three or four rival stock organizations." Was it not possible to appoint a committee to wait upon the officers of the rival organization?

Once again apparent personal differences were brought into the open. The quarrel between Jennings and Faust, one speaker remarked, should not threaten the unity of the stockmen. Faust rose to repudiate the idea of a split. He had, he said, only defended himself when attacked. If he stood in the way of the stock movement in Utah, he would take his hat and walk out.

When the City Hall group met on April 3, it too was acutely aware of competition. The chairman at once brought up the matter of the convention in the Opera House and the conciliation committee appointed the day before. A motion was made to appoint a committee to meet with that committee. Joel Grover spoke in favor of unity, but he reserved his fear that the aims of the association might be swamped by a host of small cattle owners and farmers.

In the afternoon the first matter of business was a report on what the two committees had come to. Chairman J. Q. Leavitt reported "the Opera House folks . . . were very anxious to form with this association into one grand Territorial organization." The committees had adjourned with an invitation to come to the Opera House to assist in bringing this grand organization into being.

But wait a minute, some leaders began to say. Alma Hague said if the others expected them to give up all their labors thus far and wheel into line, he was opposed to meeting with them. William Jennings said the Opera House stockmen had no organization. The Utah Horse and Cattle Growers' Association already existed. Therefore, the Opera House group should instead come to the City Hall. Nevertheless, a motion to accept the invitation carried.

What followed in the Opera House must certainly have been one of the funniest shows of the year. To the tune of "Hail Columbia," the visiting leaders marched to the stage. At once Jennings said he wished to know who had been meant by the word faction. He certainly did not call himself a faction. Faust rose to move that the past be forgotten. Jennings repeated his question. J. C. Rich moved that all past differences be forgotten and buried, and Hatch gave a strong speech of conciliation. Jennings said the vote was useless since he and his group had no ill feelings whatever. Faust, in a gesture of peace, expressed a similar view, and the motion for forgetting and burial was withdrawn. Now, with good will at least temporarily in control, it was moved that both associations unite into one territorial association.

This manifestation of unity, however, proved to be a very short scene in the play. Jennings rose again and said he still did not see why his group had been invited to the Opera House. Rich said he believed Jennings knew, and if he did not he would tell him publicly. Jennings replied that until the gentleman learned to attend in a sober and decent condition he would simply ignore him. Again a try to get on with unity, another motion to proceed to organization. But Legrande Young said organization had already taken place; he favored adopting the rules and bylaws of the already existing Utah Cattle and Horse Growers' Association. Jennings rose once more to insist upon the precedence of this association, which had, he said, been organized before any other in Utah had been thought of. The convention might vote as it pleased, but they should not ignore his association. He wanted nothing crammed down his throat.

At this Faust started up. He did not propose to have the tail wag the dog. He had not come to be insulted either. He had worked as hard as any man for the stock interest. When he finished his speech, he would take his hat and leave the hall. He had had enough. But the house voted that Mr. Faust remain.

Jennings then announced that he would withdraw, that the meeting seemed intent on ignoring his association. The house voted again to keep an antagonist, but this one declined. Jennings walked out, followed by many members of the association he headed.

Now the motion to organize was finally carried, but the comedy was not yet over. Faust moved that Hatch be made permanent chairman of the new territorial organization. A. Farr and Rich moved to substitute the name of Jennings. Faust said Jennings had bolted the convention. He agreed, however, to withdraw his motion and second the nomination of Jennings.

The stormy afternoon closed as it had begun with an air by the band. It had been a drama with a conclusion still unknown. Said the Salt Lake Herald:

What the night was to bring forth — whether Mr. Jennings would accept the presidency of an association which had hung out, as far as the principal voices indicated, still hung out against enlisting under the banner of the Utah Horse and Cattle Growers' Association, only the night meeting could tell. What the cooler heads felt certain of was a tall feeling of disgust among the country members who had traveled so far to accomplish so little. Parts of the afternoon proceedings were never excelled outside of the Pickwick Club, and other parts for regularity and order would have been laughed at by a Hoosier Debating Society.

The evening saw a new try at unity. But even with the major antagonists of the afternoon absent, the differences, like high fences, remained. When Grover read the bylaws of the Utah Horse and Cattle Growers' Association, someone wanted to know how many cattle a man must own to entitle him to membership. There was, Grover replied, no restriction except that his cattle interests must predominate over his sheep interests. A. Nebeker said his delegation came from a society opposed to the land-leasing section of the bylaws. He said the sheepman ought to be encouraged and included in the organization. Grover said the section on land-leasing did not matter. Congress would pass no such law. And the sheepman, he added, was a natural opponent of the cattleman. There was no possibility of harmonizing their industries. Hague supported Grover: it was impossible for cattle to live where sheep fed.

After further debate on sheep, the old question came up again: was there one or were there two associations in session? The question was soon answered when the City Hall stockmen adjourned, leaving the Opera House folks in possession of the room, if not the cattle interests of the territory. The prevailing frustration was expressed by Farr: did they now stand exactly where they started — unorganized? He said he thought they had made an association in the afternoon. If this was not true, he would take the morning train for home and see the cattle conventions in .....

Coming after all of this drama, the next day's session, with the organization of the Territorial Stock Growers' Association of Utah, was anticlimax indeed. The contrast was almost too great, as if now the peace was the peace of resignation. Certainly it was not the peace of an achieved unity, for there were now in fact two organizations claiming territorial size. Jennings and Grover and their group had gone their own way. But for those who gathered that April 4th morning Faust had become the hero. After he was chosen president, he took the chair as the band played "Yankee Doodle." He hoped, he said, that a memory of the stormy times they had passed through would vanish in a recollection of the happiness of this last meeting.

Perhaps, the historian could say, some real progress had been made toward cooperation and unity. Even two associations meant more association than did a random collection of stockmen, each on his own spread of acres fighting his own kind of fight in his own individualistic way. And perhaps a later time would see what some men had hoped for, a burial of the jealous and prideful past, would see instead a real sense of community growing across Utah's varied rangelands.

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