Throughout their family’s century of growing, perseverance has played a tremendous role. In the late ‘70s, with interest rates at their highest, there was a point when our farm was almost bankrupt. The bank wouldn’t loan my grandparents any money for even one more year. My grandpa went to all the bankers in town and begged them to go with them. He finally found a bank that would loan them money. They had to sell all their cows just to get through that time. But if he had given up, we all probably wouldn't be here now. Hard times create great people, and my grandpa was just driven. He was going to find a way, one way or another.

That tenacious spirit was passed down through the generations. Driving an old Ford tractor at just nine-years old, picking up beets that were missed by the diggers with his brother and cousins, Clint learned by hoeing beets, removing weeds, and by watching his father on the farm. Observing and working with his dad, he honed the skills of how to farm, irrigate, the timing on planting and on application of herbicides or water. There's a lot of pride in years of learning the best ways to do things, and that knowledge and work ethic being passed down from generation to generation. Each generation watches their parents and how hard they work and how much they devote to the farm, and that passes down through the years. Each generation has worked so hard to keep it going and you want to do your due diligence yourself to put forth the best effort to not have it all crumble away.

With a small team of five hired hands year-round working alongside Clint, his father, his brother, and their children, they are one of roughly 20 different farms that grow beets for the Wyoming Sugar Factory. We produce about 900 acres every year of sugar beets, which is pretty close to 10% of what goes into the factory total. Their process includes rotating their crops, raising cows to graze and help fertilize the beet fields, a unique step of shredding off the top of the beets while they are still in the ground to feed later to their cattle, going through with a defoliator, lifting the beets out of the ground with a beet digger, and transporting the beets on a truck to the factory.

From Clint’s farm to the Wyoming Sugar Factory, the beets undergo a six-step process to produce the beets into sugar, including slicing, diffusion, filtration, evaporation, centrifuging, and finally crystallization. Byproducts after the process, beet pulp and beet molasses, are sold back to livestock producers to supplement their feeding program. Similar to Clint’s farm, Wyoming Sugar Company is the smallest sugar factory in the nation, albeit with a robust team of talented subject matter experts, from process foremen to welders and mechanics. Among them is Bryan Mowery. Working at the sugar factory, this is the oldest business in the community; it has been here for over a hundred years, nearly as long as the town has been around, Brian tells us. It wasn't long after people moved to Worland that they started growing sugar beets, and then the factory got built.

Of all the things that have come and gone in the town of Worland, the sugar factory perseveres in large part due to community support. It's a close-knit community that depends on the factory because the income it brings to the area, the big horn basin, Brian explains. This is a farmer-owned factory, and we've worked well together toward the same goal: to make sugar and make this factory stay here for the next hundred years. Brian, who has mentored and trained high school students through a year-long internship program to bring in the next generation of skilled workers, enjoys passing his knowledge down and investing in Worland’s future. Being a part of the factory has been an honor because the community depends so much on it. There are so many growers who depend on the factory process, the sugar beets, and making the sugar. It's just like one big family.

The hard work and dedication from the growers and factory employees transcend a morning cup of coffee in desperate need of sugar. The number of farming operations are declining year to year, Clint laments with a soberness in his voice. It's very difficult to even start your own farm. That's why it’s passed down from generation to generation because most can't just go out and buy the land, the equipment, and everything needed to get it started. Without support, it's just one of those things that could dwindle away someday. And then I suppose we're going to be forced to decide where we're going to get our food from.