Dundee does his job, blocks the way into the barn-turned-office and barks a mixed message: I don’t care if you have an appointment, but hey, got any Milk-Bones? Dundee knows who is inside — his beloved Vernon and Jean Schiller — and he isn’t about to make this easy.
Herefords and Simmentals stare from the safety of Pen No. 9. A goat bleats. The day warms.
This is Shamrock Beef Cattle Farm in McHenry, which takes 2,800 to 3,200 beef cattle to market each year with the help of herdsman Harold Lemke, assistant herdsman Ron Goldben, two secretaries, 600 acres of corn and soybeans, shady pastures, a cool pond and tidy buildings. At any given time, 1,250 to 1,300 head of cattle are happily munching in nine feedlots.
The largest feedlot operation in McHenry County, Shamrock represents the middle step for the cattle — after the ranch and before the packing house. But being a successful operation — and Shamrock is, having won the National Cattlemen’s Beef Association Total Quality Management award in the farmer/feeder category in 1994 — is a lot more than moving cattle in and out. It’s about numbers, all kinds of numbers.
Back in the office, manager Vernon Schiller’s crunching of the numbers has pre-determined exactly what proportions and quantities of feed will take his current yearlings to the finish line.
Inside the office, computers whir, spreadsheets top Schiller’s desk, and a grandson’s drawing of “the semi that you wanted” decorates his door. He takes a break from paying bills to explain the feedlot business.
“When we harvest our crops,” Schiller began, “we send samples out to be analyzed so we know what protein, calcium, phosphorous and all the other neat stuff is in it. Then we have a nutritionist design a one-a-day supplement to make up any shortages in the feed.
“When the cattle come to me from Lexington, Ky., weighing about 750 pounds each, most of them only know what grass or hay tastes like. So I must try to match that ration, because when they come, they are stressed to death.”
He stretched out those last three words for emphasis, then continued: “And here’s this ugly Vern Schiller standing at the bottom of the chute saying, `All right, guys, onto the scale, through here, we’re going to hit you with the needle, worm you, pour you for lice, put you into a pen and now you can rest.’ They take a drink of water and, my gosh, that water doesn’t taste like the water back home. And (when) they go to the feed bunk, same thing. That’s when Vern starts earning his money. I welcome them. I start them on dry, baled hay similar to the grass at home. Then I introduce a little more grain every day. We have seven rations they go through until they weigh at least 1,250 pounds each.”
The ultimate goal at the end of about 160 days, added this veteran cattleman, is to produce about 80 percent choice quality beef, with the balance being prime and select.
“Consumption,” Schiller explained, “is the name of the game. The more they can eat, the better they gain.”
But there are complexities. “We in the cattle industry used to produce the short, juicy, tender Black Angus animal,” Schiller added. “But consumers have said to us, `Hey guys, I don’t want all this fat on this meat, and I don’t want to pay for an inch of fat along the back of that steak.’ So we sent the message back to the ranchers: Send us something with legs, something with length. And they did. Before, we had an animal that weighed 1,000 pounds and his T-bone steak was 10 ounces; then we had a 1,400-pound animal with a 14-ounce steak. And the consumer said, `That’s too big; we’re supposed to be eating 3 ounces a day.’ So now, I back the weight down, but I’m also cutting back the marbling — the frosting on the cake. Now I’ve got the size you want, the back fat off, but I haven’t put it in the meat yet.”
It’s a problem, a numbers game, but one Schiller thrives on because he cares what the consumer thinks, what everyone along the food chain thinks. That’s his style, has been for more than three decades — nine years before cosmetics magnate George E. Johnson purchased the farm in 1973.
Johnson, who started the business that made Afro-Sheen and Ultra Sheen products, still owns Shamrock and drives out for welcome respites.
“Vern is all about beef; he’s the beef man,” Johnson said. “You would never find two more dedicated people than Jean and Vern. They’re doing a good job in a really tough business, and I think the quality of beef from Shamrock is excellent.”
Johnson is not the only one who thinks so. Dr. Gary Cowman is executive director of quality assurance for the Englewood, Colo.-based Cattlemen’s Beef Association, which gave Shamrock the quality award. The honor recognizes leadership, teamwork, communication and results.
“Vern was very clearly the obvious winner in his division,” Cowman said. “His operation was sound, well-managed and diversified. What was interesting to me was that his skills and techniques were as sophisticated as the big corporate operations. And he did not fine-tune management just to win the award; you have to have that in place long before.”
According to Larry Harris, manager of McHenry County Farm Bureau and a resident of Crystal Lake, the fact that Shamrock won the TQM award speaks volumes about the excellent management ability of the Schillers. That and the fact that they’ve been so successful at the business for such a long time. “They’ve been able to do a good job under continued pressures and stress from urbanization,” Harris said.
Shamrock is also noteworthy for being a feedlot. “There are very few feedlots in this area, and I think urbanization is a big reason why,” Harris said. “Where you had farms, now you have houses.”
Schiller explained his successful approach. “It is not cattle and corn; it’s quality cattle and quality corn to make quality beef. I can’t take just any cattle . . . going back to the old pig’s ear and silk purse. And I’ve always wanted to stand one inch taller than the average in a group.”
It isn’t just the bottom line, however, that benefits from that kind of drive. The Schillers have hosted agriculture industry dignitaries from Korea, China, France, England, India, Romania and other countries through the Farm Bureau, U.S. Department of Agriculture, the Environmental Protection Agency and the Lake County Convention and Visitors Bureau. They come to learn how it’s done, everything from the handling of manure to the control of a cow’s heat cycle.
Local families, too, benefit. In 1995, the McHenry County Farm Bureau sponsored Farm-City Weekend at Shamrock to give city folks insight into the operation. About 800 visitors got an opportunity to stare into big, brown, bovine eyes, kick the tires of John Deeres and pet Dino, the miniature horse. This past Labor Day weekend, 120 neighbors enjoyed steak sandwiches, hayrides and Schiller hospitality at a special get-together.
And then there are the lucky schoolchildren. Each spring, Jean Schiller has volunteered her time to the Illinois Farm Bureau’s Ag in the Classroom program, the purpose of which “is to make kids aware of where food comes from,” Jean Schiller said. “When we go in to the classroom or the schoolyard, we explain our operation, our chores and how we live. We bring in a pig, a calf or whatever and talk about what happens to them and how families utilize their by-products.”
Come spring, the Schillers throw open their doors to busloads of schoolchildren who learn hamburgers don’t sprout beneath golden arches. It’s often an eye-opener, more for the city kids than the local crowd. As they step off the bus into the country air, some kids hold their noses. “I’m really embarrassed,” Jean Schiller says to them with a straight face. “Our cattle are not potty-trained.” She puts it in familiar terms. “Once they understand,” she explained, “it’s not so offensive.”
The whole tour is like that. Six hundred acres is about 455 football fields. A silo is the refrigerator of a cow’s kitchen, a feed bunk is her table. The kids also learn that you can be a vegetarian and still utilize beef cattle; their incredible array of by-products become key ingredients of leather, insulin, cosmetics, soap, nail polish and marshmallows.
Rosemary Kondirtz, a 3rd-grade teacher at Northwood Elementary School in Woodstock and resident of Johnsburg, has been shepherding her charges to Shamrock Farm for three years.
“The highlight is going to the farm, because it’s a beef operation, which is so rare in McHenry County,” Kondritz said. “It’s usually their favorite field trip of the year, and we go to a lot of different places.”
Vern Schiller speaks from experience. His father was a dairy farmer in Wisconsin, and Vern grew up with agriculture. He was also mechanically inclined and chose to work in the construction industry in the McHenry area. He had a young family, but “I found I could not feed my family a chicken all summer and feathers all winter. Ag was the one thing I knew well, and I knew I could feed my family year-round,” he said. So in 1960, he started working at a Huntley farm, where he began as a mechanic. He eventually moved into hog production before becoming an assistant manager. Then he heard about an opening at Shamrock and was hired as manager in 1964. He has been there ever since.
Jean and Vern Schiller raised four daughters at the farm: Susan Sokolowski of Boulder, Colo.; Tammy Beck of Salt Lake City; Lora Green of Valencia, Calif.; and Linda Puckett of Columbus, Ohio. Though scattered, the young women never forgot their roots. Puckett speaks of the work ethic, the importance of family and the value of integrity. “You never took anything more than what you deserved,” she recalled, “no matter what it was. Without your integrity, you were nobody.”
Puckett added: “One thing that has impressed me most, when our parents speak to the schoolchildren, is no question is dumb or silly. Every question is answered to their fullest ability, in a fun way. And they don’t try to hide the yucky stuff to make something positive.”
Several hours after his display of bravado, Dundee races alongside the pickup Jean Schiller drives. Having abandoned guard-dog mode, Dundee is much happier now, herding the inexorable metal beast.
This one’s not a cow, but hey, it’s running around loose. Gotta do the TQM thing, take corrective action.
Schiller style.
