Creeping over fields of green Remembering the
faces The moments unseen The hands that built
a dynasty The vision in their eyes Echoes in
the auction bar Beneath an endless sky This is
the bull buy Turn the bar You stand at the edge
of the show ring, your heart hammering against
your ribs like a loose belt on an old hay baler.
The imported bull from Scotland shifts beside
you, his massive frame dwarfing your 15 -year
-old body. Your hands are slick with sweat as
you grip the lead rope, and you're acutely aware
that you're wearing borrowed white pants, the
ones your panicked parents had to rush to the
Canadian National Exhibition because you forgot
to pack proper show clothes. The judge approaches.
his experienced eyes scanning every line of the
Ayrshire bull you're leading. Around the ring,
seasoned showmen with decades of experience watch
your every move. You've been working cattle for
exactly one month. They've been doing this since
before you were born. But something extraordinary
happens in that moment. Your breathing slows.
Your grip loosens on the lead. The bull seems
to sense your calm and settles into perfect position.
When the judge points to you for junior champion,
then grand champion, you're witnessing the birth
of what will become the most legendary showmanship
career in dairy history. Fast forward 45 years.
You're standing in a different ring, but the
pressure feels identical. The Royal Winterfair,
1992. This time, you're leading Duncan Bell,
the Jersey cow you've fallen in love with, the
animal that will become one of the greatest brood
cows the breed has ever produced. As the judge
raises his hand to signal grand champion, you're
16th at the Royal, you realize you've just set
a record that will likely never be equaled. But
between that terrified teenager and this master
showman lies a story that will reshape how an
entire industry thinks about cattle, competition,
and passing knowledge to the next generation.
It's the story of how disaster breeds resilience,
how careful observation becomes wisdom, and how
one man's philosophy of calm confidence will
echo through dairy barns across North America
for decades to come. This is the story of Bertram
Stewart, and it begins with a family farm that
loses everything, a teenage boy who learns that
pressure creates either panic or poise, and a
career that will prove that the greatest champions
aren't born. They're taught. You need to understand
the world Bert Stewart entered, because it's
a world your grandfather might have known. where
farming was both simpler and infinitely more
precarious than today. Picture Ontario in the
1930s. You're looking at a province where mixed
farming still rules, where most operations run
a little bit of everything. Dairy cows, percheron
horses for fieldwork, maybe some sheep, definitely
pigs, and enough grain to feed it all. It's the
kind of diversification that modern agricultural
economists recommend. But back then, it's just
survival. The dirty 30s aren't just about dust
bowls in Saskatchewan. Here in Ontario, you're
watching families lose everything to forces they
can't control. Disease sweeps through herds with
devastating efficiency. Brucellosis, what they
call Bang's disease, doesn't care how long your
family has been farming or how much sweat equity
you've built up. When it hits, everything goes
to the slaughter plant. You're farming in an
era when a mixed farmer like Ernie Stewart can
lose his entire herd and have to start over with
a different breed. It's unthinkable today with
our biosecurity protocols and vaccination programs,
but in 1936, you rebuild from zero or you quit
farming. There's no middle ground, no insurance
payouts, no government assistance programs. The
agricultural extension system is in its infancy
when young Bert is learning the ropes. You've
got county agricultural representatives who double
as 4 -H coaches, traveling from farm to farm
in Model T Fords, carrying the latest information
from agricultural colleges. They're the internet
of their day, the only reliable way new practices
spread through farming communities. Competition
culture is emerging around livestock shows. The
Royal Winter Fair isn't just a friendly gathering.
It's becoming the proving ground where reputations
are made and fortunes are built. When you show
cattle at the Royal in 1950, you're competing
against operations with unlimited budgets, herds
of 30 or 40 animals, and showmen who've perfected
their craft over decades. Think about what showing
meant in this era. No hydraulic chutes, no electric
clippers in most barns. You're using hand -powered
equipment, fitting cattle by kerosene lamplight,
and learning techniques that have been passed
down through generations of stockmen. When Owen
Richards from Alberta demonstrates body clipping,
he's revolutionizing the industry one stroke
at a time. The economics are brutal and simple.
A good bull calf might bring $500 if you're lucky.
A proven cow with a solid production record could
be worth $1 ,000. But equipment failures, bad
weather, or disease can wipe out years of careful
breeding in a single season. You're always one
catastrophe away from starting over. This is
the world that shapes Burt Stewart's approach
to everything. When you grow up watching your
family lose their entire herd to disease, when
you see neighbors forced out by circumstances
beyond their control, you develop two things.
An appreciation for the knowledge older stockmen
are willing to share, and a bone -deep understanding
that success comes from mastering fundamentals
so thoroughly that you can perform under any
pressure. You're about to see how a farm boy
who learned these lessons becomes the most successful
showman of his generation. But first, you need
to understand the family that taught him that
losing everything isn't the end. It's just another
beginning. You wake up on August 19, 1932, on
a country farm just north of Bolton, Ontario,
as the seventh child in a family that's about
to teach you everything about both winning and
losing. Your father, Ernie Stewart, breeds Percheron
horses and judges them across the countryside.
Your mother, Jenny, evaluates sewing and cooking
competitions. You're surrounded by brothers who
will become legends in their own right. Andy
will win national collegiate judging competitions,
and RJ will master the Royal Winter Fair judging
contest two years before you do. But your earliest
memory isn't about winning. It's about disaster.
You're four years old when brucellosis sweeps
through your family's herd like wildfire through
dry hay. You watch truck after truck pull into
your farmyard, watch every cow your family has
worked to build loaded up and driven away to
slaughter. The barn that was alive with lowing
cattle and the rhythm of morning milking falls
silent except for the echo of your footsteps.
Your father doesn't quit. That's the first lesson
you absorb without knowing it. When catastrophe
strikes, you assess, you adapt, and you rebuild.
Ernie Stewart switches to purebred Ayrshires,
even though, as you'll later admit, there wasn't
much market for them. It's not about the economics.
It's about refusing to let circumstances dictate
your future. You learn to clip cattle with hand
-powered clippers, your brother turning the handle
while you guide the blades. Your first attempts
are, as you'll later describe them, far from
respectable. But you keep practicing because
in the Stewart household, competence isn't optional.
It's expected. The competitive atmosphere is
constant but supportive. You're watching your
older brothers excel at livestock judging, seeing
them earn scholarships to Ontario Agricultural
College, and understanding that success comes
from outworking everyone else. When Andy becomes
high individual at the 1946 National Collegiate
Competition in Iowa, you're taking notes. When
RJ wins the 1949 Royal Winterfair judging competition,
you're already planning your own assault on that
same contest. You join 4 -H at 12, the minimum
age, and immediately throw yourself into every
program available. Dairy calves, sheep, swine,
field crops. At Bolton Fair, you compete in showmanship
competitions that include all breeds and all
species. You're learning that showing animals
isn't about the animals. It's about reading judges.
understanding what they value, and presenting
whatever you're leading in the best possible
light. But your education extends beyond agriculture.
You play fast -pitch softball competitively,
learning about teamwork, pressure, and the mental
game that separates good competitors from champions.
Your coach drives out to the farm to pick you
up for games because your parents don't have
time. They're too busy keeping the farm running.
It's another lesson in how communities support
each other. how older people invest in younger
ones, and how that creates obligations you'll
spend your life repaying. Your father breeds
horses, but there's no money in horses. You watch
him provide stud service to every mayor in the
community, often never getting paid for breeding
fees. It's your first education in how agricultural
markets can be unforgiving, how you can provide
essential services and still struggle to make
ends meet. The Stuart approach to everything
is methodical. You study successful people, analyze
what makes them effective, and practice relentlessly.
When Johnny Moles shows Ayrshire cattle with
such skill that you dream of matching his ability,
you don't just admire, you observe, you question,
and you practice every technique until it becomes
second nature. In high school, you're already
taking month -long breaks to prepare for the
Royal Winter Fair judging competition. Your coach,
Jim McCullough, teaches your team about every
livestock species, but you notice he relies on
your father for horse evaluation because he's
honest about his limitations. Another lesson,
acknowledge what you don't know, find experts
who do know, and learn from them without ego
getting in the way. When 1951 arrives, you're
as prepared as any 17 -year -old can be. You've
studied under the best teachers available. practiced
until techniques become instinct, and absorbed
the Stewart family philosophy that preparation
plus opportunity equals success. But as you prepare
for the Royal Winter Fair judging competition
that will determine your future, you have no
idea that your real education is about to begin,
and it will start with the most terrifying and
exhilarating moment of your young life. November
1951. You stand with Ralph Dunton and your brother
Hilliard, at the Royal Winter Fair, representing
Peel County in the inner -county judging competition.
Around you, teams from across Ontario are preparing
for a contest that will judge two classes each
of dairy cattle, beef cattle, sheep, swine, and
horses. You'll need to give reasons on six classes,
articulating not just what you see, but why it
matters. The pressure is immense. This isn't
just a competition. It's your ticket to Ontario
Agricultural College and a future in agriculture.
The FK Moro Scholarship goes to the high individual
winner, covering tuition for the two -year diploma
course at OAC. Without it, college remains a
dream you can't afford. As you move through the
classes, everything your family has taught you
clicks into place. You're not just looking at
individual animals. You're seeing breeding patterns,
understanding functional anatomy, recognizing
the subtle differences that separate good from
great. When the results are announced, your name
is called as High Individual Winner. The team
prize goes to Peel County as well. But winning
the scholarship is just the beginning. Three
weeks later, you're working for an Ayrshire breeder
preparing five animals, four heifers and one
imported bull from Scotland for the Canadian
National Exhibition. For one month, you clip,
train and condition these cattle learning every
detail of their confirmation and temperament.
The night before the show, you ask the question
that seems obvious. Who's going to show these
tomorrow? The answer stops your heart. You are.
You don't even own white show clothes. As panic
sets in, you realize this moment will define
everything that follows. Your parents make an
emergency trip to bring you proper attire, but
the real test isn't what you're wearing. It's
whether you can function under pressure. that
would crush most teenagers. Walking into that
ring, you're facing seasoned Ayrshire breeders
who've been perfecting their craft for decades.
The imported bull beside you represents more
money than most families spend on cars. One mistake,
a stumble, a poor setup, a moment of visible
nerves, and you'll be remembered as the kid who
choked on the biggest stage. Instead, something
transformative happens. You're breathing steadies.
your hands find the right grip on the lead. The
bull responds to your calm confidence, settling
into position like he's been waiting for this
moment his entire life. When the judge awards
junior champion, then grand champion, you realize
you've just announced your presence to the entire
Canadian dairy industry. At OAC, you're balancing
classes with an obsession that will define your
career. Learning from anyone who will share their
knowledge. Dave Houck picks you up every morning
to work at what's now Puccini Farm, the old Romandale
Farm, where you're breaking cattle to lead and
hand -milking Mahoney Babe Lockenvar three times
a day to 120 pounds. This is your graduate education
in practical cattle management. Mahoney Babe
Lockenvar is the first cow you've ever milked
that produces over 100 pounds per day, and you're
doing it by hand. You're developing the arm strength
and rhythm that will serve you for decades. But
more importantly, you're learning how exceptional
cattle move, how they respond to handling, and
what separates good cows from great ones. Breaking
five mature daughters of Lone Elm Texel Highcroft
to lead becomes an exercise in patience and psychology.
These aren't gentle 4 -H calves. They're full
-grown cows with established habits and strong
opinions. Getting them comfortable on leads requires
understanding bovine behavior at a level most
people never develop. But your real education
comes from studying the masters. Edmis Campbell,
the legendary fitter whose preparation techniques
are spoken about in whispers across the industry.
You watch him clip cattle, observe his feeding
programs, and learn that show preparation is
both art and science. When he teaches you to
handle a bull calf with a tremendous amount of
throat and dewlap, you're learning principles
that will guide your career. Owen Richards from
Woodland Ayrshires in Alberta becomes your model
for body clipping. He's not fast, but every stroke
has purpose. Every cut improves the animal's
appearance. You spend hours watching him work,
understanding that perfection comes from patience
and attention to detail. J .M. Fraser of Spring
Farm becomes another crucial mentor. When you
help him at the Royal and take the initiative
to clip Spring Farm Juliet's legs, something
he's never done before, you're learning about
innovation and the courage to improve established
practices. Graduating from OAC in 1954, you face
a choice that confronts every farm kid. Return
home to work for family or strike out on your
own. With your brother RJ already established
on the home farm, you choose independence, taking
a job with Canada Packers in their feed and fertilizer
division. Your territory in Bruce County isn't
blessed with sophisticated dairy operations or
strong support industries. Instead of seeing
this as a disadvantage, you recognize it as an
opportunity. You become the educator, teaching
farmers about protein requirements, hay quality,
and management practices that can improve profitability.
Every farm call becomes a chance to learn and
to share knowledge. But you're also preparing
for something bigger. In 1958, When the Canadian
Holstein Journal offers you a position as associate
editor, you understand that this job will give
you access to every major breeder, every important
show, and every significant sale in the Holstein
business. You'll get to know the industry from
the inside, building relationships that will
define your career. Standing in the Holstein
Journal office, surrounded by the agricultural
press that shapes industry opinion, you realize
your real education is just beginning. The teenager
who forgot his white pants has become a young
professional with access to the highest levels
of Canadian dairy breeding. But you have no idea
that your biggest opportunities and your most
difficult tests are waiting for you at a farm
owned by two Italian immigrant brothers who dream
of building a world -class Holstein herd. You
need to understand what's happening in the Canadian
dairy industry during Bert's formative years.
because it's an industry in the middle of revolutionary
change. Changes that create the perfect environment
for someone with his particular talents. The
1950s represent the golden age of agricultural
shows in Canada. The Canadian National Exhibition
isn't just a fair. It's where reputations are
made. and fortunes are built. When you show at
the CNE in 1955, you're competing against over
300 head of Holsteins, with operations bringing
their absolute best animals and their most skilled
showmen. The economics of showing are staggering
by today's standards. Operations like Romandale
and Oak Ridges regularly bring 30 to 40 head
to major shows, with unlimited budgets for preparation,
transportation, and skilled labor. It's an arms
race of quality and presentation that forces
the industry to adopt rules limiting show string
sizes to 15 head per operation. The export market
is exploding. Canadian genetics are in demand
worldwide, with buyers from the United States,
Japan, Cuba, and Mexico paying record prices
for superior cattle. A good cow that might sell
for $2 ,000 in Ontario can bring $10 ,000 or
more when sold to international buyers who understand
her genetic value. This creates opportunities
for people like Bert who can evaluate cattle
accurately and prepare them for maximum appeal.
The difference between a cow that sells for $5
,000 and one that brings $25 ,000 often comes
down to presentation, conditioning, and the reputation
of the person leading her. The extension system
is reaching its peak effectiveness. County agricultural
representatives aren't just government employees.
They're trusted advisors who carry the latest
research from agricultural colleges to working
farms. When they coach 4 -H teams or organize
judging competitions, they're creating the next
generation of agricultural leaders. Ontario Agricultural
College is producing graduates who will shape
the industry for decades. The two -year diploma
course isn't just about livestock and crops.
It's about business management, marketing, and
the communication skills needed to succeed in
an increasingly complex agricultural economy.
The scholarship system creates opportunities
for farm kids who might otherwise never access
higher education. The FK, Moro Scholarship that
sends Burt to OAC, is typical of programs designed
to identify and develop rural talent. Competition
for these scholarships is fierce, with only the
most dedicated and skilled students earning support.
Breed associations are becoming powerful forces
in agricultural development. Holstein Canada,
the Jersey Organization, and Ayrshire Breeders
are more than registration services. They're
marketing cooperatives that promote Canadian
genetics worldwide and provide technical support
to their members. Agricultural journalism is
reaching new levels of influence. Publications
like the Holstein Journal and Hoard's Dairyman
shape industry opinion, promote new practices,
and provide the platform where reputations are
built. When you work for the Holstein Journal,
you have access to every major operation and
every significant development in the industry.
The artificial insemination industry is in its
infancy, but growing rapidly. Bulls that prove
themselves in show rings and through progeny
testing can generate enormous revenue through
semen sales. This creates new incentives for
identifying and developing superior genetics.
Show culture is becoming increasingly sophisticated.
Professional fitters like Edmis Campbell are
developing techniques that transform good cattle
into champions. Body clipping, specialized feeding
programs, and conditioning methods are reaching
levels of refinement that rival human athletic
training. The judging profession is evolving
from local expertise to international specialization.
Judges who prove themselves at major shows find
opportunities to officiate worldwide, carrying
techniques and standards across borders and breeding
programs. This is the industry context that creates
perfect conditions for someone with Burt Stewart's
combination of skills, ambition, and learning
ability. The explosion of show competition the
growth of international markets, and the professionalization
of cattle preparation create opportunities that
didn't exist for previous generations. But capitalizing
on these opportunities requires more than skill.
It requires the kind of risk -taking and strategic
thinking that will be tested when Bert faces
the biggest gamble of his early career, a $4
,500 bet on a nine -week -old calf that his mother
warns him about the very night he makes the purchase.
The phone call comes in 1960, and it changes
everything. Angelo Agro wants to meet you for
dinner at the wholesale fruit market in Hamilton.
You've been working for the Holstein Journal
for two years, building relationships with every
major breeder in Canada, but the daily commute
through Toronto traffic is wearing you down.
When Angelo describes his vision for developing
a world -class Holstein herd, you recognize the
opportunity you've been preparing for your entire
career. Angelo and Frank Agro are wealthy Italian
immigrants who've made their fortune in fruit
wholesaling, but they dream bigger. They've purchased
the Jackson farm and want to build a herd that
will compete with operations like Romandale and
Oak Ridges. They need someone who understands
genetics, can evaluate cattle accurately, and
has the industry connections to acquire the right
animals. You understand immediately that this
position offers something the journal never could,
the chance to build something from scratch, to
prove that superior knowledge and careful planning
can compete with unlimited budgets and established
reputations. May 3, 1960. The Sheffield Dispersal.
You stand in the sale pavilion. watching cattle
that represent decades of careful breeding being
offered to the highest bidder angelo has agreed
to let you make the purchasing decisions trusting
your eye for quality and your understanding of
genetic value then you see her sheffield climax
pantsy nine weeks old sharp and dairy in every
line she has everything you believe a calf should
have correct confirmation strong constitution
and the kind of presence that suggests exceptional
potential But she's priced at $4 ,500, more than
most families spend on automobiles. You tell
Frank to get his brother to bid. The number climbs.
$3 ,000, $3 ,500, $4 ,000, $4 ,500. When the
hammer falls, you own a nine -week -old calf
that represents either the foundation of a dynasty
or the most expensive mistake of your career.
That night, your mother calls. Her voice carries
the worry of every farm family that's ever gambled
on livestock. Bert, please be careful when you're
spending other people's money. You reassure her
that Angelo was doing all the bidding, but privately
you understand the magnitude of the risk you've
taken. Moving to the agro farm in July, you're
taking on challenges that will test everything
you've learned. The operation needs a complete
overhaul, better management, upgraded facilities,
and a systematic approach to cattle development
that can compete with operations that have been
perfecting their programs for generations. Your
first autumn at Agro, you purchase Ormsdale Queen
Ollie. She becomes Reserve All -Canadian Senior
Yearling in 1960, validating your ability to
identify and develop quality cattle. But Pansy
remains your biggest bet, the calf whose future
will determine whether your approach to genetics
and management can create champions. Your first
trip to Chicago as a farm manager, taking Pansy
as a junior yearling to compete at the International
Livestock Exposition. She places fifth in a class
that represents the best genetics from across
North America, and Ontario wins the state herd
competition. You're announcing Agroacres as a
serious player in international competition,
but you're learning that success brings complications.
Angelo listens to advice from multiple sources.
and not everyone shares your philosophy about
showing and management. When Les Millington begins
influencing decisions about which judges to show
under, you recognize a fundamental conflict that
will test your principles. The crisis comes in
1963. Millington advises Angelo against showing
under Jim Henderson at the Wentworth County Black
and White Show. You've already prepared entries
and planned strategy based on Henderson's known
preferences for dairy character and correct mammary
systems. Changing course now means abandoning
your professional judgment for someone else's
political considerations. You present Angelo
with an ultimatum that surprises even you. If
you don't put the entries in, then you and I
have to go separate ways. It's a career -defining
moment. You're willing to lose a prestigious
position rather than compromise your professional
standards. Angelo doesn't believe you're serious.
Hazel, your wife, corrects him. You don't know
Bert. The entries don't go in. You leave Agroacres.
Living in Waterdown, you start buying and selling
commercial cows, developing a network of buyers
and sellers across Ontario and the United States.
It's profitable work that keeps you connected
to the industry, but you're also watching what
happens at agro without your management. The
cattle you selected and developed are being sold
to Millington's associates in Western Canada.
Years of careful genetic planning are being dismantled
for short -term profit. Angelo eventually realizes
his mistake and removes Millington from the operation.
Seven months after leaving, you get the call
that will reshape your career. Angelo wants you
back. but not as an employee, as a consultant.
The arrangement gives you more influence than
you had as manager, with better compensation
and the freedom to work with other operations.
Your relationship with Angelo becomes closer
than ever. He's like a second father, trusting
your judgment completely and giving you the resources
to prove your theories about cattle breeding
and development. When Pansy produces her first
calf, Agro Acres Unique, you negotiate a commission
on semen sales that will provide financial security
for decades. The day Pansy's pregnancy is confirmed,
you make another career -defining decision. If
this is a bull, I want to name him, and I want
a commission on the semen sales. Angelo agrees.
When Agroacres Unique is born, you own a piece
of what will become one of the most popular and
profitable sires of his generation. But Unique
is just the beginning. Pansy produces daughters
that will rewrite show ring history. Agroacres
Marquis Patsy and Agroacres Marquis Xmas Pansy
go grand and reserve grand champion at the 1969
Royal Winterfair as four and three -year -olds.
It's unprecedented. The only cow in history to
produce daughters that achieve this level of
success at the same show. Your $4 ,500 gamble
on a nine -week -old calf has validated everything
you believe about genetics, development, and
the patience required to build something lasting.
But your success at Agro creates opportunities
that will take your career to levels you never
imagined. In 1964, while maintaining your consulting
relationship with Angelo, you begin working with
Oak Ridges Farm and their manager, George Derrick.
The owner, R .R. Dennis, has unlimited resources
and an obsession with acquiring the best cattle
in Canada. He wants as many good cows as possible,
and he's willing to pay whatever it takes to
get them. You're about to enter the most successful
period of your showing career, but success will
bring pressures and responsibilities that will
test everything you've learned about managing
people, cattle, and your own ambitions. You've
reached the point where understanding Burt Stewart,
the showman, requires understanding Burt Stewart,
the philosopher. Because by 1965, you've developed
an approach to working with cattle that's fundamentally
different from most of your contemporaries. Standing
in the Oak Ridge's barn before dawn, preparing
animals for another major show, you reflect on
the principles that guide everything you do.
While other showmen rely on force and intimidation
to control their animals, you've discovered something
revolutionary. Cattle respond better to calm
confidence than to aggressive domination. I've
always told 4 -H kids you have to relax. you
explain to young competitors who seek your advice.
If you are uptight, the animal is going to know
it. Don't hold them too tight. You've got to
let the animal be herself. This philosophy didn't
develop overnight. It emerged from thousands
of hours spent with cattle, ranging from gentle
4 -H calves to difficult breeding animals with
strong personalities. You've learned that every
animal has a temperament, and your job isn't
to break them. it's to work with their natural
tendencies to achieve mutual success. Your favorite
cow, Sonwool Reflection Bee, exemplifies this
partnership approach. You show her 25 times and
win 21, but what makes her special isn't her
confirmation, it's her attitude. She wasn't the
best Holstein cow I ever led, but she was the
closest thing to a human, you remember. I could
throw the lead strap over her neck, and she'd
follow me through the crowd. When Bee enters
the show ring, something magical happens. She
put her head and her ears up and said, I'm here
to win. She was a dream to work with. You're
describing a level of communication between human
and animal that most people never experience,
a partnership built on mutual respect and understanding.
Your approach to showing extends beyond animal
handling to ring psychology and competitive strategy.
You understand that judges are evaluating not
just the cattle, but the entire presentation,
the showman's confidence, the animal's response,
and the overall impression created by the partnership.
You've learned to read judges' preferences and
adapt your presentation accordingly. Some judges
value dairy character above all else. Others
prioritize mammary systems or structural correctness.
Your job is to emphasize your animal's strengths
while minimizing weaknesses. all while maintaining
the calm confidence that keeps both you and your
cattle performing at peak levels. But you're
not keeping this knowledge to yourself. Every
time you work with 4 -H members, you're passing
on lessons that extend far beyond show ring success.
You can't just take your 4 -H project and go
out in the ring, you tell them. You've got to
do some homework with her at home. You've got
to know what's wrong with them, and you've got
to lead and correct the mistakes they have in
confirmation. This teaching reflects your deeper
understanding that success in any competitive
arena requires preparation, patience, and the
willingness to work on fundamentals until they
become automatic. You're not just creating better
showmen. You're developing people who understand
that excellence comes from consistent effort
applied over time. Your relationship with difficult
animals reveals another aspect of your philosophy.
Don't get me wrong. The bad temperament ones
are bad, you acknowledge. But sometimes if you
take a bad one, take her out and work with her
and relax her, you can get a lot of things accomplished.
This approach to problem solving, seeing difficult
situations as opportunities for improvement rather
than obstacles to avoid, explains your success
with operations like Agroacres and Oak Ridges.
You don't expect perfection. You work systematically
to develop whatever potential exists. As a judge,
you apply the same philosophical consistency.
I always said down deep in my heart, nobody needs
to change Leedsmen if I am judging, you reflect.
I want to put the best ones first. It doesn't
matter if the same man wins them all. This commitment
to judging cattle rather than politics sets you
apart from officials who make decisions based
on who's leading rather than what's being led.
It's a principled stance that sometimes creates
controversy. but ultimately builds respect for
your integrity and expertise. Your motivation
for sharing knowledge traces back to your own
development. Many people gave me quite a bit
of their time, you remember. I played a lot of
softball when I was young, and my coach actually
drove out to the farm and picked me up to play
ball. My parents didn't have time to take me.
The men who invested in your development, Jim
McCullough, Dave Houck, J .M. Fraser, Edmus Campbell,
Owen Richards, created an obligation that shapes
your entire career. Every time you teach a young
person proper showing technique or help them
understand cattle evaluation, you're repaying
a debt to the mentors who believed in your potential.
This sense of obligation extends to your community
involvement beyond agriculture. Twenty years
of coaching fast -pitch softball, winning seven
Ontario Championships, demonstrates your commitment
to developing young people in all aspects of
their lives. The same principles that create
successful showmen, discipline, preparation,
teamwork, and grace under pressure, apply equally
to athletics. Your wife Hazel's parallel involvement
as a 4 -H leader for homemaking creates a family
culture centered on service and education. Together,
you're demonstrating that success carries responsibilities,
that people who achieve prominence in their fields
have obligations to help others develop their
own potential. Standing in your barn in 1975,
surrounded by champion cattle and reflecting
on two decades of competitive success, you realize
that your greatest satisfaction doesn't come
from the trophies or the prize money. It comes
from seeing young people develop confidence and
skill, from watching them apply lessons learned
in show rings to challenges they'll face throughout
their lives. The teenager who forgot his white
pants has become a teacher whose influence will
extend far beyond his own competitive career.
But your greatest challenges and your most lasting
contributions are still ahead. November 1985.
You stand in the barn at the Royal Winter Fair,
34 years after your first victory as high individual
in the youth judging competition. Around you,
The most expensive and carefully prepared cattle
in North America are being readied for what many
consider the most prestigious dairy show in the
world. But this year feels different. The cattle
are exceptional. Your preparation has been meticulous,
and everything you've learned over three decades
of competition is crystallizing into what might
be the defining moment of your career. Your partnership
with Oak Ridges has evolved into something extraordinary.
RR Dennis' unlimited budget, george derrick's
management expertise and your eye for cattle
have created a combination that dominates show
rings across north america but domination brings
pressure everyone expects you to win and anything
less than championship becomes failure you're
working with eric nielsen and barry quickfall
the two best cowmen you've ever encountered their
skill in preparing cattle while you handle ring
presentation creates a team efficiency that your
competitors struggle to match. Every animal is
conditioned to perfection, every detail of presentation
calculated for maximum impact. The stakes couldn't
be higher. The Royal Winterfair represents more
than just another show. It's where reputations
are cemented and legends are born. Your record
of championships here is already impressive,
but you're approaching territory that no other
showman has ever reached. Your routine has become
ritualized through years of refinement. You arrive
at the barn hours before the show begins, checking
each animal, making final adjustments to their
conditioning, and visualizing every moment of
ring presentation. The calm confidence that has
become your trademark isn't accidental. It's
the result of preparation so thorough that surprises
become impossible. but you're also carrying the
weight of expectations that extend beyond your
own ambitions. Oak Ridge's reputation, the trust
of cattle owners who've invested millions of
dollars in your judgment, and the example you're
setting for young people who study your every
move. All of these responsibilities converge
in these moments before competition begins. The
competition you're facing represents the best
genetics and preparation money can buy. Operations
from across North America have brought their
absolute best animals, prepared by showmen who've
studied your techniques and developed strategies
specifically designed to beat you. The target
on your back has never been larger. As classes
begin, you recognize that something special is
happening. The cattle are responding perfectly,
judges are recognizing quality immediately, and
the rhythms of competition are flowing in your
favor. Class after class, the purple and gold
banners accumulate. Junior champion, reserve
champion, grand champion. But you're not just
winning, you're demonstrating mastery at a level
that transforms competition into artistry. The
way you position cattle for maximum advantage,
the split -second timing of your movements, the
communication between you and your animals, everything
has reached a precision that separates true masters
from merely skilled competitors. The Grand Championship
class represents the culmination of everything.
You're leading an animal that you've helped select,
develop, and prepare specifically for this moment.
Every aspect of her conditioning reflects your
understanding of what judges value, what audiences
appreciate, and what separates good cattle from
great ones. Standing in the ring as the judge
makes his final evaluation, you experience the
kind of moment that defines careers. Decades
of learning, Thousands of hours of practice and
the accumulated wisdom of every mentor who invested
in your development converge in these few minutes
of competition. The judge's decision will either
validate your approach to cattle, competition,
and life itself, or demonstrate that even the
most careful preparation sometimes isn't enough.
But you've learned that outcomes, while important,
are less significant than the knowledge that
you've prepared completely and competed with
integrity. What you don't fully realize in this
moment is that you're approaching a milestone
that will likely never be equaled in modern competition.
The combination of your natural talent, systematic
development, and the opportunities created by
your generation's approach to showing cattle
has created conditions that may never be repeated.
The judge raises his hand, pointing toward your
animal for grand champion. It's your 15th Royal
Winterfair Grand Championship, one short of a
record that will stand as testimony to a career
unlike any other in the history of dairy cattle
competition. But even as the crowd applauds and
photographers capture the moment, you're already
thinking about what comes next. Because for someone
with your philosophy of continuous improvement
and service to others, Each success creates new
responsibilities and greater opportunities to
influence the industry you've devoted your life
to developing. The teenager who forgot his white
pants is about to become the most successful
showman in the history of one of North America's
most prestigious agricultural competitions. But
the real test of your legacy won't be measured
in championships won. It will be measured in
the influence you have on the generations of
agricultural leaders who will follow in your
path. November 1992. You walk toward the show
ring leading Duncan Bell, the Jersey cow you've
fallen in love with, the animal that represents
everything you understand about genetics, preparation,
and the partnership between human and animal.
This isn't just another championship class. This
is your opportunity to make history. Duncan Bell
embodies your philosophy of working with cattle.
You first judged her at World Dairy Expo in 1991
as a three -year -old, recognizing immediately
that she represented something special. When
you placed her grand champion at Madison, Lorne
Ella of Rock Ella Farms approached you with an
offer that would define both of your careers.
You like this cow as much as I do. I want you
to lead her the rest of her life. The partnership
that developed between you and Duncan Bell demonstrates
everything you've learned about animal psychology
and competitive preparation. She isn't just a
superior animal. She's a cow that understands
the show ring, that responds to the energy of
competition, and that performs her best when
the stakes are highest. Walking into the ring,
you're carrying the weight of history. 15 Grand
Championships at the Royal Winterfair represent
a record that has stood for years. but 16 championships
would establish a milestone that will likely
never be equaled in modern competition. As the
judge evaluates the class, you demonstrate the
calm confidence that has become your trademark.
Duncan Bell responds perfectly, setting up precisely,
maintaining her position without tension, and
displaying the kind of presence that separates
great show animals from merely good ones. Every
aspect of this moment reflects the accumulated
wisdom of 40 years in competition. The way you
position Bell for maximum advantage, the timing
of your movements, your ability to read the judge's
preferences and adapt your presentation accordingly,
everything has reached a level of mastery that
transforms technical skill into artistry. The
judge's evaluation seems to take forever, but
you've learned to use these moments productively.
Instead of focusing on outcomes you can't control,
you concentrate on executing perfectly every
element of presentation that remains within your
influence. When the judge points toward Duncan
Bell for Grand Champion, you're experiencing
more than just another victory. This is your
16th Grand Championship at the Royal Winterfair,
a record that represents not just personal achievement,
but validation of an entire approach to agriculture,
competition, and life itself. But even as photographers
capture the historic moment and crowds celebrate
your achievement, you're already thinking about
what this success means for the broader agricultural
community. The record you've just set demonstrates
what becomes possible when natural talent combines
with systematic development, continuous learning,
and the guidance of exceptional mentors. Later,
standing in the barn with Duncan Bell after the
formal presentations have concluded, you reflect
on the journey that brought you to this moment.
The terrified teenager who forgot his white pants
has become the most successful showman in the
history of one of North America's most prestigious
agricultural competitions. But the real significance
of this achievement extends beyond personal recognition.
Your success validates an approach to agriculture
that emphasizes continuous learning, respect
for animals, and the importance of sharing knowledge
with the next generation. The techniques you've
developed, the relationships you've built, and
the example you've set will influence the dairy
industry for decades to come. Duncan Bell's championship
represents more than just superior genetics and
preparation. It demonstrates what becomes possible
when humans and animals work together as true
partners. The calm confidence that has defined
your career isn't just a showing technique. It's
a philosophy of leadership that applies to every
aspect of agricultural life. Your 16 Royal Winterfair
Grand Championships establish you as the most
successful showman of your generation, but you
understand that records exist to inspire others
rather than to create permanent monuments to
individual achievement. As you prepare to leave
the Royal Winterfair with your historic 16th
championship, you're already thinking about the
young people who watched your performance. who
studied your techniques, and who will carry forward
the principles you've demonstrated throughout
your career. The record you've established tonight
will likely stand permanently, permanently, but
its real value lies in the inspiration it provides
to agricultural leaders who understand that excellence
comes from consistent effort applied over decades,
from learning continuously from the best available
teachers, and from sharing knowledge generously
with those who follow. The teenager who once
scrambled for white show clothes has just completed
the most successful showing career in the history
of Canadian agriculture. But as you'll discover
in the years that follow, your greatest contributions
to the dairy industry are still ahead, and they'll
be measured not in championships won, but in
the lives you influence and the knowledge you
share. The months following your record -setting
16th Royal Winter Fair Championship, bring a
shift in perspective that you didn't anticipate.
Standing in your farm office, surrounded by decades
of ribbons, trophies, and photographs, you realize
that reaching the pinnacle of competitive success
creates new responsibilities and different opportunities
for influence. The dairy industry recognizes
the significance of your achievement immediately.
Agricultural publications across North America
feature stories about your career analyzing not
just your competitive success, but the techniques
and philosophy that made it possible. Young showmen
study videos of your ring presentations, trying
to decode the secrets of your calm confidence
and effective animal handling. But you understand
that your real legacy won't be measured in championships
won. It will be determined by how effectively
you share the knowledge you've accumulated over
four decades of competition and cattle development.
Your commitment to youth development, already
strong throughout your career, intensifies after
achieving your showing goals. The Canadian 4
-H Classic, the program you helped establish,
becomes a vehicle for teaching young people the
fundamental principles that have guided your
own success. Patience, observation, and the calm
confidence that separates good competitors from
great ones. Every year from 1990 to 2017, you
and Hazel make the journey to Madison, Wisconsin,
chaperoning Team Ontario to the National Dairy
Cattle Judging Competition at World Dairy Expo.
The drive becomes a mobile classroom where you
share decades of accumulated wisdom about cattle
evaluation, ring psychology, and the mental preparation
required for high -level competition. The young
people you coach don't just learn judging techniques.
They absorb your philosophy about agriculture
and life itself. When you tell them that success
comes from studying those who excel at their
trade, you're passing on the same lesson that
shaped your own development as a teenager watching
Johnny Moles show Ayrshire cattle with such skill
that you dreamed of matching his ability. The
Ontario Inter -County 4 -H Judging Competition,
which you established in 1990, becomes more than
just a contest. It's a systematic approach to
developing the next generation of agricultural
leaders. The top four contestants earn the World
Dairy Expo trip, creating incentive for excellence
while ensuring that your influence extends far
beyond your own competitive career. Industry
recognition follows your record -setting achievements.
In 2005, you received the Klusendorf Trophy,
the most prestigious award in dairy cattle showing.
The announcement comes as a complete surprise,
but it validates everything you've believed about
preparation, integrity, and service to the industry.
Standing before your peers at the awards ceremony,
you understand that this recognition represents
more than just personal achievement. It acknowledges
an approach to agriculture that emphasizes continuous
learning, respect for animals, and the obligation
to share knowledge with those who follow. In
2009, the Royal Winter Fair appoints you as a
lifetime honorary governor, recognizing not just
your competitive success, but your broader contributions
to Canadian agriculture. The honour carries special
meaning because the Royal has been central to
your story since that nervous 17 -year -old won
the Youth Judging Competition in 1951. Your induction
into the Canadian Agricultural Hall of Fame in
2017 completes a trilogy of recognition that
spans your entire career. But even as these honours
accumulate, you remain focused on the work that
has always mattered most, teaching young people
the principles that create not just successful
competitors, but thoughtful, ethical leaders.
Your influence extends beyond agriculture through
20 years of coaching fast -pitch softball. Seven
Ontario Championships, five with boys teams,
two with girls teams, demonstrate that the principles
of preparation, teamwork, and grace under pressure
apply equally to athletics and agriculture. The
Milton Chamber of Commerce recognizes this broader
community service in 1997, naming you Citizen
of the Year. The award acknowledges three decades
of volunteer work that includes hospital foundation
leadership, church service, and countless hours
invested in developing young people across multiple
activities. But perhaps the most meaningful recognition
comes from seeing former 4 -H members apply lessons
learned in your programs to successful careers
throughout the agricultural industry. Some become
judges at major shows. Others assume leadership
positions in breed associations, agricultural
organizations, and farming operations. One young
woman you coached becomes a lawyer at the largest
law firm in Toronto. carrying forward the analytical
thinking and communication skills developed through
livestock judging. Your children and grandchildren
continue the family tradition of 4 -H involvement
and Royal Winter Fair success. Watching them
compete in programs you helped establish creates
a special satisfaction that transcends any personal
achievement. The values you learned from your
own family – hard work, integrity, service to
others – continue through another generation.
The teenager who forgot his white pants has become
a pillar of Canadian agriculture. But the transformation
didn't happen overnight. It developed through
decades of careful attention to fundamentals,
systematic learning from the best available teachers,
and consistent application of principles that
create excellence in any field. Your legacy is
measured not in championships won, though 16
Royal Winterfair Grand Championships represents
an unprecedented achievement. It's measured in
the influence you've had on thousands of young
people who learn that success comes from preparation,
that excellence requires patience, and that knowledge
becomes valuable only when it's shared with others.
Today, nearly two decades after your death in
February 2018, your influence on the dairy industry
continues in ways that extend far beyond competitive
showing. The principles you demonstrated, systematic
preparation, calm confidence under pressure,
and generous sharing of knowledge have become
embedded in how North American agriculture approaches
both competition and education. The Canadian
4 -H Classic, now supported by TD Bank, Holstein
Canada, and Cemex, attracts participants from
across the country. Young people compete not
just for ribbons and trophies, but for the opportunity
to experience the kind of comprehensive agricultural
education you believed every farm kid deserved.
Your approach to judging, evaluating cattle rather
than politics, maintaining consistency regardless
of who's leading, influenced a generation of
officials who carry forward your commitment to
integrity. When judges today explain their decisions
based on functional anatomy and genetic merit
rather than personal relationships, they're applying
principles you demonstrated throughout your career.
The showing techniques you help develop and refine
continue to evolve. but the foundational principles
remain unchanged. Successful showmen still emphasize
the calm confidence you made famous, the meticulous
preparation you insisted upon, and the respectful
partnership between human and animal that defined
your greatest achievements. Barry Quickfall and
Eric Nielsen, the fitters you considered the
best you ever worked with, trained others who
carry forward the standards of cattle preparation
you helped establish. The chain of knowledge
transfer, from Edmis Campbell and Owen Richards
to you, from you to the next generation, continues
in dairy barns across North America. Agricultural
education programs incorporate your philosophy
of learning from successful practitioners. Students
study not just technical skills, but the mental
approach that separates good stockmen from great
ones. Your emphasis on observation, patience,
and continuous learning has become standard curriculum
in livestock management courses. Your international
influence developed through judging assignments
in 16 countries helped establish North American
standards for cattle evaluation and preparation
worldwide. The techniques you demonstrated in
Mexico, Brazil, and other countries influenced
local practices and created lasting connections
between Canadian genetics and international markets.
The economic impact of your career extends far
beyond personal success. The cattle you selected,
developed, and promoted generated millions of
dollars in sales and semen revenue. Operations
like Agro Acres, Oak Ridges, and countless others
built their reputations partly on your ability
to identify and develop superior genetics. Sheffield
Climax Pansy, the nine -week -old calf you convinced
Angelo Agro to purchase for $4 ,500, produced
offspring that dominated show rings and breeding
programs for decades. Agroacres unique alone
generated enormous revenue through semen sales,
vindicating your eye for genetic potential and
your willingness to make bold decisions based
on careful evaluation. The dairy industry you
helped shape continues to benefit from innovations
you pioneered or promoted. Body clipping techniques,
systematic show preparation, and the integration
of performance data with visual evaluation all
trace their modern development partly to principles
you established. Your influence on agricultural
journalism, developed during your years with
the Canadian Holstein Journal, helped professionalize
industry communication and establish standards
for reporting that emphasized accuracy and educational
value over sensationalism. The Bertram and Hazel
Stewart Award continues to encourage young people
aged 12 to 14 to remain involved in 4 -H, addressing
the same challenge you recognized, keeping talented
youth engaged in agriculture during critical
developmental years when many drift toward other
interests. Modern dairy farmers facing challenges
you never encountered, environmental regulations,
animal welfare concerns, market volatility, still
apply principles you demonstrated – careful observation,
systematic problem solving, and the importance
of learning from those who have successfully
navigated similar challenges. Your greatest legacy
may be the demonstration that excellence in agriculture
comes not from natural talent alone, but from
the systematic application of principles that
can be learned, practiced, and taught. The teenager
who forgot his white pants became the most successful
showman of his generation, not through genetic
advantage, but through consistent effort applied
over decades. The dairy industry continues to
evolve, but the need for people who combine technical
knowledge with integrity, competitive excellence
with generous teaching, and individual achievement
with service to others remains constant. In these
qualities, Bertram Stewart's example continues
to influence agricultural leaders who never knew
him personally. but benefit from the standards
he established. Legends live here.