In the 1960s, as the story goes, the Monforts were receiving pushback from people who found the cattle feeding operation on the north side of Greeley distasteful. Perhaps unaware of the economic footprint of the Monfort feeding and processing dynasty of the time, they wanted the operation run out of town and away from their delicate sensibilities and noses.

According to the tale, Kenny Monfort paid all his employees one week in cash and stamped each bill. He told his opposition to go find a business in Greeley, or hell, in Weld County, that didn’t have a stamped Monfort bill in their till. Their search wasn’t fruitful. It quieted the din of disapproval and illustrated, in cold, hard cash, the impact of the business.

The cash was paid to those who made their living feeding cattle, those who grew the grain to feed the cattle, the truckers who hauled the grain to the yard, the scale keeper who weighed the cattle in and out of the yard, the commodity trader who bought and sold the grain and cattle, and the gal who answered the phone. 

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The cash was paid to those who made their living carving red meat from bone, the men who pushed the cattle up and down alleys, the Department of Agriculture inspector who cast careful looks at each carcass, the driver who hauled away the byproducts, the packers who cut primals into saleable cuts of beef, those with quick hands who wrapped the cuts in butcher paper or plastic, those who pack meat into boxes and those who pack boxes into trucks and those who drove trucks down what has long been known as the “Monfort Lane” of the highway.

The cash passed from their calloused hands to the grocer, the electric company, the mortgage company, the banker, the baker, the movie house, the waitress the gas station attendant, the drug store, the general store and the barkeep.

A misguided feel-good attempt to ban slaughterhouses in Denver has made it to the ballot in November and voters in Denver will, again, be tasked with voting on an issue that has far-reaching consequences stemming from a business of which they know little. Banning a single business in Denver, that’s not unlike the one owned by the Monfort family in years past, will not improve animal welfare in the state.

The business of slaughter is less than glamorous, but it is a major economic driver in the state and it’s one that benefits consumers be it through meat on their plate or any one of the thousands of byproducts of livestock production. It is vitally important work. There is dignity in hard work done well, though I suppose those with soft hands and clean shoes may not have experienced the tired earned from a hard day of honest work.

The Regional Economic Development Institute at Colorado State University’s report on the effect of the ballot box ban found the closure of the slaughterhouse in Denver — Superior Farms — would cause a reduction of $861 million in current economic activity and 2,787 jobs. The best-case scenario of the study assumes 80% of the economic activity lost in the ban somehow remains in state, and still represents a loss of more than $215 million in Denver alone.

The closure of this one business will not improve animal welfare in this state. The closure of animal agriculture in this state will not improve animal welfare in this state.

Superior Farms is one of the country’s only lamb processors, handling about 20% of the nation’s lamb-harvest capacity. In turn, as summarized in CSU’s study, losses will also result in other sectors including animal production, animal food manufacturing, agriculture and forestry, grain production, transportation and wholesale grocery.

American consumers have the luxury of voting with their dollars. However, extremists’ attempt to legislate consumers’ plates by taking away, as the study confirms, access to locally produced foods, wages and the ability of the state’s lamb producers to remain in business, does not do as they claim.

According to data cited in the study, the closure would hamstring the already strained and over-burdened meat processing sector nationwide. It will make already soaring grocery prices higher. Opponents argue the ban would reflect the growing consumer preference for locally produced food. A great deal of lamb in the country is produced in Colorado. You know, locally. If it is forced out of state into a state not so bent on destroying the industry that foots the bills, local food leaves the state to be processed. The ban kicks wide open the U.S. door to imported lamb and represents a massive loss in export dollars and disproportionately affects ethnic markets and consumers. Each of these jobs is performed by a person who is now nervous about the outcome of a vote that represents their livelihood.

It’s time voters proved they’re unwilling to cave to the whims of extremists, with no thought to the consequences. Don’t throw the lamb industry to the wolves, too.

Rachel Gabel writes about agriculture and rural issues. She is assistant editor of The Fence Post Magazine, the region’s preeminent agriculture publication. Gabel is a daughter of the state’s oil and gas industry and a member of one of the state’s 12,000 cattle-raising families, and she has authored children’s books used in hundreds of classrooms to teach students about agriculture.