The Winners Circle
Dusty Dreams
Dr. J. Scott Vernon
The Winner’s Circle
By J. Scott Vernon, Ph.D.
Hoke Evetts was my hero. Like a tumbleweed in the winds of the Oklahoma dust bowl, Mr. Evetts rolled west to California and settled in a small cow town. A dairy cow town: Hanford. Holsteins ruled, not the Herefords or Brahmans he’d grown up with in the wheat field plains of cowboy country. He made the best of a bad situation and milked cows to feed his “grapes of wrath” family. The dust of adversity flowed like mud through his veins and he knew someday he would overcome the erosion of his youthful Oklahoma dreams.
Hoke was short at five-foot-five, but his pride and optimism elevated him to John Wayne proportions. People liked Hoke because he liked people. He would shake hands and kiss babies as if he were running for the Senate. The fact-of-the-matter was, he was more interested in selling cows. After making and losing a couple of fortunes Hoke, along with Pete Belizzouli, became the owner of the Overland Stockyards in Hanford, California. Together they formed a successful, if unlikely, partnership that would span decades. Hoke was the “frontman” and auctioneer. Pete was the steady, low-key rock that kept the company solvent. As a team they helped Overland Stockyards to become the western Ft. Worth.
Pete always had a half-smoked cigar in his mouth and carried a buggy whip under his arm while he worked. He sorted cows out back. He never said much. Just sorta grunted his commands. When he did say something, you knew he was either really mad or he liked you better than most. Pete kept the sale barn spinning like a top. Cows rotating in. Cows rotating out. Trucks coming and going at Pete’s command.
Hoke on the other hand, was on the block auctioneering. Entertaining. He wore a coat and tie and Ostrich skin boots before folks knew what Ostrich skin boots were. His silver-belly hat was 100x beaver. His belt-buckle had more jewels than my mother’s wedding ring and proudly proclaimed him “The World’s Favorite Auctioneer.” He had a pencil-thin mustache that on closer inspection was “penciled-in.” He was the Clark Gable of the sale barn. He had a Teflon quality about him. Bovine fecal-missiles never seemed to hit, much less stick to him. A chronic ol’ cow could cough and send a green, wet stream of the morning’s alfalfa flowing like a fountain across the ring hitting every steer buyer on the front row, the ringman, and Alma the sale clerk. Hoke would come away spotless.
I loved the man. Because he, like my father, taught me about class. He demonstrated for me how to be proud of what you do and to respect yourself for who you are. Hoke used the dust of his humble beginnings to plant the seeds of success. He took the harsh realities of life’s experiences and applied them like compost to his dreams.
He hired me at Overland Stockyards when I was 13 years-old. Each week I would drag, carry, pull, and push hundreds of day-old Holstein drop calves into the ring. I would listen to Hoke work his way through his chant and carry on a conversation with the locals. “Hummmmm 45 now 50 mmmm 5, now 55, hello-Frank good-to-see-you, nice hat, mmmm, 60, have-a-seat, mmmmm 5, 65, how’s-ya-momma-and-them,70, going-to-the-bank, sold 65, to the mayor of Hanford Mr. Silva.” Mr. Silva wasn’t the mayor, but when Hoke would call you mayor or congressman, or “Mr. Rock-a-feller,” you felt like a million bucks. Hoke knew how to sell.
Listening to him inspired me to become an auctioneer. And in the 30 years since I’ve been selling livestock, farm equipment, plus my share of church bizzars, county fairs, and school cake auctions, I’ve never forgotten how Hoke made his audiences feel. He made ‘em feel important. He made ‘em smile while spending their money. He made ‘em feel like winners
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Dr. J. Scott Vernon is a professor in the Agricultural Education and Communication Department at California Polytechnic State University in San Luis Obispo, California and a Farm Bureau member. He can be reached at jsvspeakingsuccess@yahoo.com or 805.929-5847. © j. scott vernon
