It’s The Pitts: Quit While You’re Behind

Before auction markets came along with a better form of price discovery there existed a class of characters known as ‘traders’. There were three prerequisites to be a member of this cattle tradin’ fraternity: a big Cadillac with a glove box full of speeding tickets, a silver stick pin that cost more than the price of two calves on an up market, and female acquaintances in every state where you did business. Jim’s grandfather was a purebred member of this clan with a long line of Missouri mule traders in his pedigree. Grandpa Jim is decomposing now but back in the day when a man’s poverty was measured by the number of cattle he owned, Jim was a card-carrying members of the cattle trader’s cartel. I’ve been told that Big Jim had all the charm of a west Texas rattlesnake, the ethics of a street gang and could be crueler than a pair of Mexican spurs. He was the kind of guy who’d think nothing of belching in church or putting his thumb on the scales when he was selling cattle to you. It’s been said that Big Jim started his trading career with absolutely nothing and by the time he died he still had most of it left. In the twilight of his life Jim drifted south like the cattle. Besides trying to find warmer weather Jim wanted to train yet another generation in the tradin’ game. He moved in with his daughter and started schooling Little Jimmy, his grandson...