“I don’t know how you qualify a legend.”
There’s a crease in Jim Gies’ brow as he studies pictures from years past, trying to determine just what it takes to make someone deserving of the word. Flipping through images, that crease is erased by the power of a quiet grin as he looks down at familiar faces.
“It’s kind of in you,” he finally decides. “If it isn’t, you aren’t ever going to get it there.”
To Gies, there’s countless salesmen, auctioneers, cattle breeders and fieldmen he labels as friends, but only a few people that he confidently calls legends.
They’re people that are able to evolve with the livestock industry, propel their peers and their cattle into the future. They’re people that take their job seriously, taking programs and projects to new heights by putting their dedication and available technology to good use. They have common sense and a tough attitude.
And, most importantly, Gies said they’re just good people.
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When Pete Crow, publisher emeritus, hired Gies at the Western Livestock Journal more than 30 years ago, he said Gies certainly qualified as a good person. In the decades since, Gies has unknowingly surpassed every other standard he’s set for someone to qualify as a legendary force in the industry.
“He’s dedicated his whole life to this,” Crow said. “Jim has been steady as a rock. He’s just kind of been one of those fixtures in the industry—always been there and been reliable and taken care of business. He is one of the stalwarts in the fieldman game.”
Gies has never been one for recognition, however.
“I just do my job,” he said. “That’s the way I’ve done it 53 years.”
Since the start of his career, he’s just been happy to stand alongside people who are as passionate about livestock as he is.
“If you like your job, it isn’t work,” Gies explains. “And I’ve never really thought I was working.”
It’s a motto that’s gotten him far in life, and one that’s created a history and résumé worth celebrating.
A humble man’s beginnings
With a grandpa who was a cattleman and horseman, Gies was inspired to join his local 4-H and FFA chapters at an early age.
Officer positions, time in the showring and reasons sets given at livestock judging competitions kept him busy year-round, but it was time well spent to Gies. As a student at Colorado State University, he even served as president of the National Junior Hereford Association.
It was a random Wednesday night in Fort Collins that Gies experienced one of his first truly life-changing events.
“Ladies night used to be on Wednesdays,” said Cheri Gies with a laugh, remembering the country western bar where she and Jim first met. “I thought it would be a hoot to go.”
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The self-proclaimed city girl turned out to be the perfect match for Jim, and they were married in 1970 after he graduated. New vows were coupled with a new job, as Jim started at the Drovers Journal.
“I didn’t have a chance to say yes, no or indifferent,” he jokes, recalling how he came home from the interview with Stanley Stout, then-director of field staff, who told him to buy a car and hit the road.
Keys in hand, Jim set about with the next challenge: figuring out cattle breeders.
Back at home, Cheri was balancing her calendar between time dedicated to their daughters, Wendy and Jodi, and time outside learning what it takes to run a cattle herd alongside Jim’s father and grandpa.
She may have gotten full control of the TV remote, but Cheri was often left to put out feed and run kids to livestock and sporting events on her own. Jim was gone nearly every week, except for a few short periods in the summer months.
“We managed, but it was an adjustment,” she admits.
Though the herd was nearly cut in half after Jim’s father passed away in 1982, there were still plenty of chores to keep Cheri and the girls busy. Old Hereford cows helped jumpstart the Gies family venture into the club calf world as Wendy and Jodi began to show.
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Jim and Cheri found a rhythm in the day to day, and back then, Jim said he figured he’d have to be fired to leave his group at Drovers behind. But as research predicted the need for fieldstaff would all but disappear and the demand for print would diminish rapidly, the weekly publication was cut.
As one of the “last dogs standing,” it wasn’t until May 15, 1990, that Jim found his place with WLJ.
Going west, staying home
For Crow, it was a true blessing to be able to offer Jim a job.
“I knew Jim had a tremendous amount of experience,” Crow explains. “I pretty much just hired him and turned him loose … I was fortunate.”
Contemplative, direct and trustworthy are all words that could be used to describe Jim, even back before Pete considered him a true friend outside the office. It was these characteristics, along with his leadership abilities, that made him the perfect fit for WLJ.
Settling into the role, Jim set some lofty goals for the Journal and himself. Beyond wanting the paper to have a national presence and a broader perspective, Jim had a grand vision for a larger group of field staff.
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Mornings were often spent in a car with a cohort, with sale catalogs being marked prior to auctions. After the last animal exited the ring, Jim would make calls to sell business in the paper and complete his sale reports.
And if it wasn’t an auction, it was a herd visit.
“Next day, we’d get up and do it all again,” he said.
Up until recently, that’s the only schedule Jim has ever known. He’s lived and breathed cattle for most of his life, but his tenure at WLJ is one of his biggest accomplishments.
“I thought we came a long way in 30 years with that publication,” Jim said, describing the evolution of staff and content he feels lucky to have witnessed.
He’s seen overall industry growth during his career, as well.
From data making cattle more predictable to an overall advancement in the genetics of this nation’s cow herd, Jim said there’s more and more doors being opened for both seedstock and commercial producers.
At the root of it all is interpersonal relationships, he adds.
Being a fieldman, an auctioneer and a sale manager is a unique path, and Jim says the best of those learn how to treat people right—not because they have to, but because they want to.
“I’ve always thought, and I still feel, that this is a people business,” Jim explains. “All I ever did was just go and do the best job I could with the ability I had. I always figured if you respect other people, they’ll respect you.”
Cheri said she’s watched Jim spend years making those connections. Her husband takes the time to call, learning more about each producer than just their name. Jim can remember spouses, children, even the dogs.
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“Over my 53 years, I have been privileged and honored to work for and with an outstanding group of individuals,” Jim said. “It’s been one hell of a ride.”
His past is marked with meals at other families’ dinner tables, hours on the phone and even random lessons shared with others, sometimes as simple as how to complete a Windsor knot in a tie.
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While there might not be a perfect way to quantify a relationship, Jim says he measures success by the trust others place in him. If someone seeks out his opinion, then in his mind, he’s made it.
In Crow’s mind, Jim’s gone above and beyond in that regard.
“A lot of people trust his judgement,” Crow adds.
Work that never stops
When asked about his retirement, Jim and Cheri share a knowing laugh.
“I kind of work, don’t I?” he asks his wife.
She can only nod, smiling as she lists the never-ending scope of activities on the farm that still keep Jim busy. There’s hay to cut, bales to move and even a pony to turn out to pasture.
Cheri’s had to relearn to cook for two as Jim’s given up the hectic travel schedule, but it’s a change she’s happy to make.
“It’s much nicer having him home,” she said.
Jim said his only hobby nowadays is being a grandpa. Claire, Shae and Dylan are his latest obsession, a statement proven by the numerous photos on his phone’s camera roll and the pictures hanging on the fridge.
“They’re just nice people,” Cheri said of her grandchildren, smiling as she and Jim take turns listing their achievements.
Claire is an upcoming sophomore at the University of Nebraska, and Shae and Dylan are currently dominating the cattle and goat world as juniors in the show ring. Selling their cattle herd about 15 years ago was one the hardest days of their lives, Cheri says, but now the grandchildren are helping both her and Jim get their livestock fix.
Just next door to their home, the couple added a few barns to the property where Jim was originally born. The pristine facilities are home to the steers and goats that Shae and Dylan are working hard to raise for shows across the country.
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Jim happily admits he’s traded his WLJ duties for more chores at home.
“I don’t know if I know what retirement is,” Jim explains. “I like to work. I was taught to work, so I just work.”
As Jim slowly closes the door on his career, he said he’ll never stop doing what he can to help the cattlemen he cares about. Thanks to the relationships he’s taken the time to invest in, there’s still plenty of people who won’t hesitate to ask, “What do you think, Jim?”
While Jim’s humility and modesty may stop him from adding his own name to the list of industry legends, there’s plenty of others more than willing to do it for him.
And that’s the true sign of a real legend.
