History of Cordray Farms
You read in the papers that beef producers are considering implementing an identification system to track where cattle has come from. For me tracing where the cattle come from is tracing my history.
In approximately 1907 Joseph H. Cordray began raising cattle in the Lowcountry, carefully choosing only the highest quality animals to slaughter and prepare for sale. Each weekend he made the trip by horse and wagon to bring his choicest selections for sale at the end of the trolley car route on Meeting Street. The family stories tell that he arrived in the city late on Friday night, secured his horse and wagon, then caught the trolley to stay overnight with his sister on Oak Street . Before daybreak the next morning, on Saturday, he was ready to meet his customers. Joe Cordray was my grandfather. I never knew him, but I feel a certain kinship with him and vow to continue his legacy of providing top quality beef for the families of the Lowcountry. I learned much of what I know about cattle and beef production from my father, Lolace Virgil Cordray, who learned it from his father, Joe. My father remembers being given a cow by his dad at about 5 or 6 years old. When new calves were born, some were sold for $1 a piece, and some were kept to start his fledgling cattle herd. This continued until 1941 when my father left home to serve in the Army in Germany in World War II. While he was gone, his small cattle herd was watched over by his family as they waited for his return. That return took longer than anyone expected. From 1942 to 1945, my father was held prisoner of war in Germany. I know that he wrote asking for news of how the cattle were doing from the few tattered letters I’ve seen from those days. When he finally came home in 1945, my dad would tell stories of dreaming of the beef roast Sunday dinners he looked forward to when he was so far from the Lowcountry . For all my life, my mom has cooked the world’s best Lowcountry beef roasts for Sunday dinner. The menu stays pretty much the same, just the way my dad dreamed it would on all those cold German nights. When he finally did come home, he continued the family business of raising cattle and bringing his beef to Charleston for sale. Now he loaded meat into a 1939 Chevy and headed down the dirt road called Savannah Highway to a market on Heriot Street downtown. My dad and his brothers butchered their own cattle until 1965 when government regulations forced them into strictly retail sales. After that they had their cattle slaughtered at a local abattoir and hauled the meat in pickup trucks to the markets at Herriot Street. From my earliest memories, my dad worked Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at the market and tended the cattle at home Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Sundays were strictly set aside for church. As fortune and love would have it, my mom’s dad also had a meat market on Herriot Street. Pappy, Hogan Grooms, had his market on Meeting street beginning in 1927. He moved across the railroad to join my grandfather on Heriot Street in 1942. He raised his cattle in the Lebanon Community near Ridgeville, butchered them at home, and brought them to Charleston in an A-Model Ford. My two grandfathers had competing meat markets side by side for many years. My parents first met each other at those markets. By the time I came along, the youngest of 4 brothers, only my dad and 2 uncles continued the meat markets on Heriot Street. I can remember that meat was kept cold my putting a large block of ice in a tub and running a fan over it. Yes, there was electricity! I’m not that old!
Anyway, the years unfolded springtimes full of new calves, summers spent bailing hay, and winters spent feeding hungry cattle until the first faint green of grass in the pastures helped to fill their void. My family kept cattle on what is now Tea Farm County Park and rounded them up on horseback several times a year. We called this “cow hunting” and it is one of my fondest memories. My dad, my uncles, my brothers and finally me, when I was old enough, would leave before daybreak. I remember hanging tight around my Daddy’s waist on Traveler in the hot summer sun, as we thundered through the dark swamps, passing oaks dripping with Spanish moss and swimming our horses through the canals around long abandoned rice fields. The cattle dogs yelped and the men whistled and swore. It was a fine time. My dad continued as his dad had done, giving me a calf of my own from time to time. Some I kept to build my own herd and some I sold saving money for college. The small family beef ranchers were becoming a scarcity in the Lowcountry. When that day finally came for me to leave home for Clemson, I felt the tug of the cattle business for myself. I majored at Clemson University in Animal Science with my concentration in Meat Science. I worked for a few years after graduation in the Meat Laboratory doing research on tenderness and taste tests from cattle on different feeding formulations and different breeds. At the University, I was also introduced to the production of smoked meat products and worked on packaging research using vacuum sealing to extend product life. When we left Clemson to return home to the Lowcountry I love, my dad had faithfully tended my small herd of cattle and returned them to my care. Through the remaining years, I’ve continued the family tradition of giving a few calves to my kids. I think it has taught them responsibility and helped to keep them grounded in their roots.
Since 1994, when my dad shut the doors of his Herriot Street market for the last time, we’ve continued raising cattle, sometime butchering some for our own use, but selling most of the year’s calf crop at the stockyards in Walterboro. Since 1990, I’ve been processing venison for hunters with Cordray’s Venison Processing. For the first time, in nearly 100 years, no Cordray was providing beef for the Lowcountry. I’ve decided to change that. We are continuing to raise beef cattle naturally, as we always have. We never give them growth hormones or antibiotics. They graze on bahia grass and Bermuda grass from our pastures all through the lazy days of a Ravenel summer. In winter, we feed them hay baled on Selkirk Plantation on Wadmalaw Island. We fatten them up on a little corn raised by local farmers and then carry them to a small slaughter facility in Goose Creek. Our beef is then dry aged in our temperature controlled coolers until just the right stage of tenderness and taste is reached.
Oh, yes, and one other thing hasn’t changed. This July a new heifer calf was born. She’s tan with a black nose and she now belongs to Paul Alexander DiMaio, Joe and Hogan’s great- great grandson. I think they would approve.
Michael Cordray
August 2005
July 25, 2007 Update
Colleen Michaela DiMaio will be getting her new calf when next spring's calves come. Her brothers will have to show her how to call the cows!
July, 2010
Banks got his calf from this year's crop!
Jan. 2011
Trenham's calf is one of the early ones from this year. We'll try to get a picture of him with it soon!
In approximately 1907 Joseph H. Cordray began raising cattle in the Lowcountry, carefully choosing only the highest quality animals to slaughter and prepare for sale. Each weekend he made the trip by horse and wagon to bring his choicest selections for sale at the end of the trolley car route on Meeting Street. The family stories tell that he arrived in the city late on Friday night, secured his horse and wagon, then caught the trolley to stay overnight with his sister on Oak Street . Before daybreak the next morning, on Saturday, he was ready to meet his customers. Joe Cordray was my grandfather. I never knew him, but I feel a certain kinship with him and vow to continue his legacy of providing top quality beef for the families of the Lowcountry. I learned much of what I know about cattle and beef production from my father, Lolace Virgil Cordray, who learned it from his father, Joe. My father remembers being given a cow by his dad at about 5 or 6 years old. When new calves were born, some were sold for $1 a piece, and some were kept to start his fledgling cattle herd. This continued until 1941 when my father left home to serve in the Army in Germany in World War II. While he was gone, his small cattle herd was watched over by his family as they waited for his return. That return took longer than anyone expected. From 1942 to 1945, my father was held prisoner of war in Germany. I know that he wrote asking for news of how the cattle were doing from the few tattered letters I’ve seen from those days. When he finally came home in 1945, my dad would tell stories of dreaming of the beef roast Sunday dinners he looked forward to when he was so far from the Lowcountry . For all my life, my mom has cooked the world’s best Lowcountry beef roasts for Sunday dinner. The menu stays pretty much the same, just the way my dad dreamed it would on all those cold German nights. When he finally did come home, he continued the family business of raising cattle and bringing his beef to Charleston for sale. Now he loaded meat into a 1939 Chevy and headed down the dirt road called Savannah Highway to a market on Heriot Street downtown. My dad and his brothers butchered their own cattle until 1965 when government regulations forced them into strictly retail sales. After that they had their cattle slaughtered at a local abattoir and hauled the meat in pickup trucks to the markets at Herriot Street. From my earliest memories, my dad worked Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at the market and tended the cattle at home Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Sundays were strictly set aside for church. As fortune and love would have it, my mom’s dad also had a meat market on Herriot Street. Pappy, Hogan Grooms, had his market on Meeting street beginning in 1927. He moved across the railroad to join my grandfather on Heriot Street in 1942. He raised his cattle in the Lebanon Community near Ridgeville, butchered them at home, and brought them to Charleston in an A-Model Ford. My two grandfathers had competing meat markets side by side for many years. My parents first met each other at those markets. By the time I came along, the youngest of 4 brothers, only my dad and 2 uncles continued the meat markets on Heriot Street. I can remember that meat was kept cold my putting a large block of ice in a tub and running a fan over it. Yes, there was electricity! I’m not that old!
Anyway, the years unfolded springtimes full of new calves, summers spent bailing hay, and winters spent feeding hungry cattle until the first faint green of grass in the pastures helped to fill their void. My family kept cattle on what is now Tea Farm County Park and rounded them up on horseback several times a year. We called this “cow hunting” and it is one of my fondest memories. My dad, my uncles, my brothers and finally me, when I was old enough, would leave before daybreak. I remember hanging tight around my Daddy’s waist on Traveler in the hot summer sun, as we thundered through the dark swamps, passing oaks dripping with Spanish moss and swimming our horses through the canals around long abandoned rice fields. The cattle dogs yelped and the men whistled and swore. It was a fine time. My dad continued as his dad had done, giving me a calf of my own from time to time. Some I kept to build my own herd and some I sold saving money for college. The small family beef ranchers were becoming a scarcity in the Lowcountry. When that day finally came for me to leave home for Clemson, I felt the tug of the cattle business for myself. I majored at Clemson University in Animal Science with my concentration in Meat Science. I worked for a few years after graduation in the Meat Laboratory doing research on tenderness and taste tests from cattle on different feeding formulations and different breeds. At the University, I was also introduced to the production of smoked meat products and worked on packaging research using vacuum sealing to extend product life. When we left Clemson to return home to the Lowcountry I love, my dad had faithfully tended my small herd of cattle and returned them to my care. Through the remaining years, I’ve continued the family tradition of giving a few calves to my kids. I think it has taught them responsibility and helped to keep them grounded in their roots.
Since 1994, when my dad shut the doors of his Herriot Street market for the last time, we’ve continued raising cattle, sometime butchering some for our own use, but selling most of the year’s calf crop at the stockyards in Walterboro. Since 1990, I’ve been processing venison for hunters with Cordray’s Venison Processing. For the first time, in nearly 100 years, no Cordray was providing beef for the Lowcountry. I’ve decided to change that. We are continuing to raise beef cattle naturally, as we always have. We never give them growth hormones or antibiotics. They graze on bahia grass and Bermuda grass from our pastures all through the lazy days of a Ravenel summer. In winter, we feed them hay baled on Selkirk Plantation on Wadmalaw Island. We fatten them up on a little corn raised by local farmers and then carry them to a small slaughter facility in Goose Creek. Our beef is then dry aged in our temperature controlled coolers until just the right stage of tenderness and taste is reached.
Oh, yes, and one other thing hasn’t changed. This July a new heifer calf was born. She’s tan with a black nose and she now belongs to Paul Alexander DiMaio, Joe and Hogan’s great- great grandson. I think they would approve.
Michael Cordray
August 2005
July 25, 2007 Update
Colleen Michaela DiMaio will be getting her new calf when next spring's calves come. Her brothers will have to show her how to call the cows!
July, 2010
Banks got his calf from this year's crop!
Jan. 2011
Trenham's calf is one of the early ones from this year. We'll try to get a picture of him with it soon!
