Wealthy Feedlot Owner Keeps Troubles to Self as Fortune Quietly Fades

The myth of frontier independence says that when a man needs help, he does not ask for it. John Calvin Courtright believed it.

Courtright spent 30 years turning a feedlot into a multimillion-dollar business and seemed to be on top of the cattle world when he disappeared last year, leaving his wife with $23, his empire in shambles and a community in shock.

One month before he left, Courtright was the beneficiary of an $11.9-million loan, one of the largest ever provided by the Northwest Livestock Production Credit Assn. in Portland, Ore., where he served as chairman of the board of directors.

Nobody but Courtright knew that his company was in trouble. He had given his employees bonuses and raises at Christmas.

‘Solid and Steady’

“We all thought Cal Courtright was solid and steady, if anyone was solid and steady,” said Bonnie Cox, whose husband, Harold, is president of the Washington Cattle Feeders Assn.

When Courtright, 57, turned up 6 1/2 weeks later in Las Vegas, he was “sad and lonely,” his daughter, Cathy Hull, later said. “My dad said that he left because he couldn’t face the hurt he was causing everyone.”

Hard times had hit the cattle-feeding business, in which cattle are fattened with grain. Northwest cattle feeders were anticipating a price of $70 per hundredweight in mid-1985, and they bought thousands of animals, said Don Ricketts, executive secretary of the Washington Cattlemen’s Assn.

But the price plunged to $50, and many cattle feeders, already burdened with high-interest loans and hefty feed costs, found themselves in trouble, Ricketts said.

Went Broke Farming

Still, Courtright had survived tough times before.

He built the Courtright Cattle Co. after he and his wife, Mary, moved to Warden, having gone broke in the mid-1950s farming in the Yakima Valley.

The cattle-feeding business was good to the couple and their four children. The Courtrights flew on their own planes to Mexico, California and elsewhere to buy cattle.

Mary Courtright owned a religious bookstore in downtown Moses Lake, and Courtright was devout in his business and his religion. Folks trusted him with their livelihoods.

When he disappeared Jan. 17, 1986, his wife thought her husband was somewhere on the family’s huge Six Prong Ranches along the Columbia River.

But Courtright had told a Chicago securities trader that he would personally deliver $134,000 to meet deposit requirements of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, where he traded futures contracts.

Call for Deposit

He never made the payment, and three days after he disappeared, mercantile officials called Mary Courtright, wanting their money.

Word got out in Moses Lake that Courtright was gone.

Creditors came knocking, one alleging that Courtright Cattle Co. had put its brand on cattle it did not own. Courtright’s former lawyer, Paul White, acknowledged that his client often branded cattle he did not own but only to identify those running loose on his range.

Cattlemen cut through locked gates at the Courtright feedlots in the middle of the night, hauling off truckloads of their livestock, afraid creditors would seize the animals.

Meanwhile, the credit association sued the family to foreclose on its loan. Two agency credit officers and a manager were fired for lending Courtright the money.

George Rugg, one of the dismissed credit officers, said he did not believe that Courtright deliberately misrepresented his financial situation when applying for the loan.

‘Honest as He Can Afford’

“We had a saying in the bank business that a man is as honest as he can afford to be,” Rugg said. “He always had an ability to make money, and all of a sudden nothing was working for him. I’m sure he came in with the attitude that he could get out of it.”

Al Haslebacher, a spokesman for Farm Credit Banks of Spokane, which oversees the credit association, said he was unsure what happened to Courtright’s company, “but some people don’t recognize when they reach the end of the rope.”

“It puts additional pressure on them when they have to make the traumatic decision to leave agriculture,” Haslebacher said. “So they dissipate every last asset.”

When Mary Courtright realized that her husband of 34 years was missing, she hired a detective to search for him. She then filed for reorganization and protection from creditors under Chapter 11 of the Federal Bankruptcy Act, and the company and its feedlots were put into receivership.

Son Loses Job

The receiver laid off the Courtrights’ son, Johnny, from his job as a pen rider at the Warden feedlot. Two sons-in-law who operated a Courtright ranch and feedlot were also laid off.

Courtright was found in Las Vegas on March 5, one week after members of the First Presbyterian Church of Moses Lake, where the Courtrights taught a Bible class, held an all-day prayer vigil for his return.

He had rented an apartment there and was in a casino to get a sandwich when a visiting nephew recognized him, laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Hi, Uncle Cal.”

Since Courtright’s return home, he and his wife have declined to talk to reporters. His daughter said Courtright recalled only bits of what he did after he left. He told his family he had wandered around the country for a short time before settling in Las Vegas. It was not clear why he chose the desert resort, but he had not spent his time gambling, she said.

Fraud Charges Pending

The U.S. Bankruptcy Court has transferred all civil claims against Courtright to Grant County Superior Court. Creditors are seeking $8 million to $9 million. In addition, fraud charges are pending in U.S. District Court in Portland, Ore., over Courtright’s dealings with the credit association.

Most of the family’s assets, including a $210,000 home in Moses Lake, an island home, a 26-foot sailboat and other land holdings, have been sold at auction. Mary Courtright still owns her religious bookstore but has also taken a job as activities director in a nursing home. The family expects the store to be taken over by creditors.

When he returned, Courtright apologized to the church congregation “and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house,” said the Rev. Gerrit van Brandwijk.

“Nobody knew about his problems. He was a very independent man, a very successful businessman. Things got so bad he just kind of went out,” Van Brandwijk said.

“It’s astounding that nobody’s mad,” said White, the lawyer, but he offered a partial explanation:

“I’m sure a lot of people he dealt with believe that ‘There but for the grace of God go I’ when they think of Cal.”