ARIZONA NATIONAL LIVESTOCK SHOW

Like the city cop's badge. He wears this vest loose an' open to let the air to his body an' not bind him none. At night, after a hot day's work, he maybe buttons it to keep his body from coolin' off too soon. Mostly they're jes' ordinary vests, but sometimes y'u'll find a rider who's considerably dudish an' goes in for Injun beads or wears a woolen one that looks like some painter has upset the color pot on it.

The brush hand won't be hampered with a coat either, but he does wear a jacket, one that's close fittin' an' without a tail. They're made of heavy duckin' that'll turn thorns, an' are sometimes reinforced at the elbows with leather. Most of his ridin's done with his elbows throwed up over his face to protect it from the whippin' brush.

On the colder ranges the cowhand wears an overcoat in winter. These garments are usually of knee length, made of heavy canvas, light brown in color, an' fleece or blanket lined. To make 'em more windproof some cover 'em with a coat of paint, an' daubin' with a paint brush always invites the drawin' of the brand the owner works for.

His pants are mostly hard, close-woven material that can stand rough usage. Call 'em trousers an' he won't know what y'u're talkin' about. To him they're never anything but pants. The old-timer wore 'em stuffed inside his high-topped boots; the modern cowhand wears 'em outside his short boots, with usually one side of each leg crawlin' up over the top like it ain't on speakin' terms with the boot heel.

The common style now is the denim Levi, an overall without a bib. He buys 'em long an' turns 'em up at the bottom for a turn or two, till they're jes' above his spurs. These turn-ups make a handy place to carry hoss shoe nails an' such.

No matter whether they're pants or Levis they'll be hangin' from his hips without any other support. Galluses are never seen on the range as they bind the shoulders an' interfere with work, an' belts are apt to cause hernia when ridin' a pitchin' hoss.

He takes a heap of pride in his gloves. The cowtown merchant might be able to sell him shoddy clothes at big prices, but he knows better'n to show him anything but the best in gloves. If he tries to sell him sheepskin or anything but genuwine buckskin he'll be called some names that's not in the Sunday School book, besides gettin' some free advertisin' that won't be to his advantage.

A cowhand wants gloves that won't be injured by gettin' 'em wet. Stiff gloves interfere with ropin' and don't make it any easier to get the right hold mountin' a plungin' hoss. Most western gloves are made with gauntlets that're covered with plenty of silk embroidery. Some wear stiff leather cuffs too, to protect their wrists an' keep their shirt sleeves from botherin' 'em.

Many old-time cowhands were so vain they'd wear gloves all the time they weren't asleep. They wasn't sissies, but was advertisin' the fact they're too good at ridin' an' ropin' to stoop to manual labor. White hands tell y'u they're not a laborin' man. Good gloves are a big help in ropin' to keep from gettin' rope burns, an' some men won't rope without 'em. On the other hand, most modern cowmen scorn their use an' claim that it's cheaper to grow skin than to buy it. Their hands are usually tougher than the calluses on a bar-fly's elbows.

I hope later to tell y'u about other riggin' the cowboy wears, but jes' remember when y'u see a workin' cowhand an' he looks like he needs dippin' worse'n his cattle, he enjoys the opportunity of slickin' up an' bein' clean when-ever he gets the chance.

It would take well over a million dollars to buy the aristocratic Hereford cattle pictured here, as each row represents the top five head from various nationally known herds which showed at the Arizona National in 1952. The blocky Herefords were first imported from England to replace the lean Longhorns on the wide open range lands of the Southwest.

The Arizona National Livestock Show

Many Americans have a secret desire to retire to the wide open spaces someday and settle down on a cow ranch. That is the conclusion Frank Snell has reached after four years as president of the Arizona National Livestock Show, during which he has listened in on the conversations of hundreds of visitors as they look over the sleek, fat cattle in the pens, stalls and showring at this annual beef cattle exhibition, held each January in Phoenix.

The Arizona National had its inception in 1949 and it has had a lusty growth gain each year since then. More people, more cattle, more exhibitors-that has been the story, and all of this in spite of the fact that the show has no rodeo, no horse show and no "Western hoopla" in connection to draw a bigger gate. It is strictly a beef cattle show. It is held during the middle of the benign winter season and last year had registered visitors from every state in the Union, as well as from Mexico, Canada, Hawaii and England. Aside from all the other statistics that show promoters love to quote, such as one class having over two million dollars' worth of cattle in the arena at one time, what pleased the management no end-a month after the 1952 show was over-were the breeders' ads in the livestock magazines, the trade journals for the industry. In these ads the different ranches and breeding farms had listed their Arizona winnings and ribbons second only to Denver, in several cases with Arizona surpassing Denver. This might seem an insignificant or picayune point to anyone outside the tight little world of purebred beef cattle breeders, but within the "industry" it was a tacit acknowledgement that the Arizona show had arrived on the big-time, no mean accomplishment for an event that is only four years old.

New Year's Day the first showstring herds start arriving by train, trucks and trailers. They come from all over the cow country west of the Mississippi, spend about a week in Arizona, and then move on up north for the Denver show, from where they travel to Fort Worth, Houston, and on through the "circuit" grind. The timing for the Arizona show was determined with malice aforethought. Blizzards, snow and zero temperatures are the rule in other sections of the country at that time; so attending such an event where sunshine and a balmy resort atmosphere can be combined with a top-deck beef cattle show makes a hard-toresist combination. Pre-show publicity showing cattle that are lolling in lush pastures, with date trees and citrus groves in the background, insures a host of visitors. No less important than the weather and vacation angles is the fact that Arizona is the home range for several of the nation's strongest Hereford show herds. And there is nothing beef cattle breeders enjoy more than winning ribbons over the local champs.

The cattle industry in Arizona is a basic one and is a big factor in the state's economy. Range cattle are the logical harvesters of the natural forage crop-grass, the grass that grows on the millions of acres that are not suited for any other kind of agricultural effort. On these rugged acres, in their arid valleys, on the hills, through the forests and, to the surprise of many newcomers, on the deserts too, cattle ranching is a major enterprise, a wondrous way of life, theflamboyant history of which has so intrigued writers and story tellers of all degrees of literary merit.

When Col. Phillip St. George Čooke made his historic march with the Mormon Battalion on its way to San Diego in 1847, one of the longest infantry marches on record, he, of course, passed through Arizona. Amongst the almost unbelievable hardships his men were to endure, not the least hazardous was their encounter with a squadron of fleetfooted, long-horned black bulls they inadvertently ran into near the San Pedro River. These vicious beasts attacked the company with such concerted force that Cooke was compelled to order a military deployment to counterattack. It is probably the only time in our army's history that a military command was issued to repel an attack by a herd of bovine antagonists. These black cattle were descendants of the Andalusian livestock which the Spanish padres a century or more before had herded up from Mexico in an effort to make the presidios and missions self-supporting. So it can be seen that cattle have been a part of the Arizona scene for a long time. The Arizona show serves as a sort of cross-section show window for the many-faceted angles of the industry as it is operated today and the animals in the ring are a vast improvement over the ones that gave Cooke so much trouble.

The various aspects, or activities, of the Arizona National can be divided into four categories. First, there are the This Brahman heifer was grand champion female of her breed at the 1951 show. She was shown by the University of Louisiana. Brahman cattle are the sacred cows of India and recently have been used extensively in cross-breeding operations in arid sections of this country. Brahmans are predominantly silvery grey to white in color. They thrive in desert.

A registered purebred Hereford bull, MW Prince Domino A 13th, pastures on the Long Meadow Ranch in Williamson Valley, near Prescott. Long Meadow has won pen-of-three-bulls award at all four Phoenix shows, as well as three out of four pen-of-three-heifers classes, a remarkable achievement in breeding top quality uniformity with steady consistency.

breeding classes in which the haltered animals of various ages, sex and breed are brought into the show ring. The judge places them according to his own lights, as he thinks they rate. He considers such factors as conformation, flesh condition, stance, “finish” and many other qualities. Each breed has a separate judge and separate shows within a show. The electric-like tension generated among the audience and breeders as the judges make their decisions in these halter classes is so intense that even the novice can feel it. As a climax, a champion in each breed, and both a male and female, are chosen, and the ribbon, trophy and considerable cash that go with these awards are the subject of the magazine ads mentioned earlier. These champion cattle are always used subsequently in purebred operations and, when sold, go to registered herds where the owner thinks their blood in his breeding program will add strength to his herd in some particular aspect in which it might be weak, or at least, less strong. These champion animals and their progeny are the ones that sell for such fabulous sums. The second division of the show is what can be called the pen breeding classes. Exhibitors are required to show three animals of the same sex for each entry. Here, too, the competition is keen, almost ruthless, and at fever pitch. Theentries are judged on quality, just as in the halter classes, and a new factor is added-uniformity. All three animals have to be as nearly alike as possible, in conformation, in size, in quality. There is a good reason for this. Top level championship blood eventually trickles down through the various herd levels until it reaches the commercial range herds, the source of our nation's meat supply. (The meat producers buy the best bulls they can afford but top show animals are generally beyond their purses.) Meat packers and cattle feeders are practical about it. They pay premium prices for uniform range calves because such cattle are more profitable to handle. If they buy a thousand head of steer calves from a rancher after the fall roundup, or in the spring as yearlings, the more uniform the calves are as to size and quality, the more they pay. To the purebred breeder who thus can win a pen-of-three class of champions goes the range man when he is in the market for new blood to breed up his range cattle. And due to the genetics of herd management, all cowmen buy at least a few new bulls every year. It takes, on the average, about one bull for every twenty-five cows in a herd. The third division of the show, and no less important than the other two, are the pen steer classes. These, of

In the early morning Arizona winter sunshine each animal is given a bath with thick, soapy water and is then rinsed thoroughly, after which a hair oil is sprayed on. The naturally curly hair, characteristic of most cattle, is then coiffured into symmetrical marcels. Horns and hooves are polished and sometimes the white markings are bleached.

Of course, are the animals that wind up on your dinner table, and it is the ever increasing quality of these animals at their point of origin, so to speak, that is the sole reason for the existence of the purebred show herds at the top of the cycle. The steer classes are shown in pens of twenty and pens of five. These animals come off the ranges of Arizona's cow country, and neighboring states as well, and the kudos go to the most uniform pens with the highest quality. The judges are usually buyers for the big meat packing concerns and there is no more shrewd judge of "dressing percentage" in the industry. They must assess each animal in each entry on the way it will dress out after it has been fattened, or fed out, on some farm or in some feed lot. The fourth division of the Arizona National is for the "Juniors" the meat producers of the future. Here, too, the competition is keen, rugged and ruthless. And the junior end of the show has an added feature-Fat Steers. Through various means-FFA, 4H clubs, parental backing, and a calf scramble-youngsters with an inclination towards animal husbandry get a "project." The idea is to teach these juniors animal care and proper methods of feeding. A weanling steer calf has to be "fed out," within a year, into show shape. These steers are then judged on fat steer quality. Each contestant is required to keep accurate records of his progress, his feed costs and finance charges (all banks cooperate by lending money for the original investment). Thus these youngsters absorb much practical experience in nearly all aspects of cattle raising from their one-calf project. A high-light of the show is the calf scramble. Twenty leading FFA and 4H boys, selected by their leaders, are put in an arena with ten steer calves that will weigh up to 200 pounds. They are "spooky" range stock with a vigorous desire to get back home. They emphasize this homing instinct with a violent aversion to the halter with which each boy tries to corral a "project." There are twice as many boys as there are calves, and the best way to get one is to tackle it, football fashion, so the resultant melee is something to behold. The vigor, stamina and athletic agility of these youngsters, 14 to 18 years old, is only matched by the similar energies in the calves. The prodigious effort that is required to corral a "project" is prompted by the fact that successfully leading a calf out the gate, though leading is not quite the word, means the animal belongs to the individual boy, without any further financing problems. At the show the following year the best fed out steer, after 12 months in the boy's feed lot, gets an added trophy, and the steer is then sold at auction

The Arizona show has made tremendous strides in growth, which, in cattle show circles, is measured by the prestige that accompanies its ribbons and the caliber of the entries. The idea for a show started with the Arizona Hereford Breeders' Association. They had long felt that Phoenix should have a show, the city being the center of one of the nation's range cattle producing areas, and a show for registered Herefords would act as a display window for the entire industry, commercial and registered. The State Fair in November would seem to be the logical spot for such an event but at fair time in Arizona the weather is still too warm for the more northerly acclimated animals to look their best, and to be really successful a stock show must draw entries on a countrywide basis. For example, the entries in last year's January show had herds coming from as far away as Illinois and Iowa. The State Fair Commission, understanding the timing angle, willingly cooperated and offered their extensive facilities for use as a show site. The local Hereford people, whose talents lie in other directions than show promotion and production, got an interested group of Arizona people to listen to their ideas. From these merchants, lawyers, bankers, hotel and motel owners, auto dealers, farmers, feed men-in short, the leaders in a cross section of Phoenix' business life-the response was immediate and enthusiastic. "Why hasn't this been done before?" they asked. The show was set up as a non-profit corporation. The first one was staged in January, 1950, and was such an instant success that it has become an annual event. A show of registered cattle is not the bonanza to Phoenix' commercial life that the tourist trade is but it is the sort of event that adds tone to the community and brings visitors here that otherwise might never have sampled Phoenix' hospitality. The Arizona National Livestock show is held each year in the middle of January, and draws the top breeders of eight different breeds of beef cattle. Hereford breeders are the most numerous, as their society has long been the most active in the state, but goodly representations are made by the Shorthorn, Angus, Brahma, Santa Gertrudis, and other breeds. The top Angus show herds come to Phoenix from all over the nation as the Arizona National's Angus show is rated as one of the major Angus shows of the year. These magnificent herds, representing the results of careful breeding programs planned years ahead, are a far cry from the sort of livestock show that was staged in the early days of Phoenix. Back then the farmer would bring his best milk cow or his fattest pig to the city park on a Saturday afternoon and have it judged, with the winners getting a blue ribbon and a cash prize of five or ten dollars. Now the blue ribbons are still there, but the cash prizes for a single animal run up to a thousand dollars, and the total prize money, counting special awards, runs close to $25,000. Some of the herdsmen have their own private planes and fly their valuable animals all over the country, from show to show. The expense involved in maintaining a first-class show herd is tremendous, but there is always the chance that a breeder may develop a champion bull that will bring him as much as $100,000.