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Simplot and his wife, Maggie, take me to dinner at a steakhouse in Boise. It's owned by a Simplot board member, one reason Scott says he likes to give them business. He's quickly ushered to the best table in the restaurant, next to a crackling fireplace. We have rib-eye steaks and a bottle of California cabernet.
In spite of their similarities, Scott and his father have a relationship that has been anything but smooth. Like his two brothers and his sister, he admired his father growing up but rebelled against his strict parenting. Between bites of steak, Scott says his father believed in "do it because I told you to" and "command and control," with all the kids required to work tough jobs. At 12 and 13, Scott spent the summer months herding cattle on the open plains with the buckaroos. Later, he worked on the farm baling hay, building fences, and working the horses.
"That went on until my senior year of high school when I broke away from that. Then, I was in total rebellion," he says. Scott went to college and later graduate school in large part to stay away from the ranch. "It was all about doing anything that was other than what I was told to do," he says.
What did his father think about his going to Wharton? "It's almost too complicated to put into words," he says. "He wasn't exactly ambivalent, but somewhat close to that. Going to school was fine, but what wasn't fine was to reject the business. It was okay that I got an MBA, but he didn't quite understand what it was or what it meant or what it took to get one."
Scott says that what his father always loved about business was the excitement, the adrenaline rush of whipping people up to accomplish the impossible. "He's so enthusiastic about life," Scott says. "He truly wants everybody charging forward to build something big. It's all about the chase and, boy, it's exciting. He's lived his whole life that way."
Asked whether J.R. has approved of any of his ideas, Scott looks away. "He passes out approval very meagerly, if at all, and I'm afraid I'll probably lose him by the time any of my current investments start hitting the bottom line." But Scott thinks the Simplot ranch once again has a pulse of excitement. "Why are we out doing something that is the equivalent of the impossible dream?" he asks. "Part of me wants to believe that if it's hard to do maybe that's where you spend your time."
Clearly Scott is taking a huge gamble. If protesters gain political traction, and the FDA does not grant approval for cloned foods, all of his efforts will have been in vain. Even if it does, labeling the meat or milk from clones likely will make it a difficult sell. Politicians are already taking up the issue. "The American people don't want this. They find it repugnant!" says Senator Barbara Mikulski (D-Md.). On Jan. 31, she introduced the Cloned Food Labeling Act, which would require that meat and milk from cloned animals be labeled.
Opponents are fighting cloned food for many reasons. One criticism is that the science involved in cloning is so new. Amy, the first cloned cow, was born in 1999. There are fewer cloning problems and failures than before, but not enough to appease critics. "Cloning will be yet another tool in the technically engineered, chemically intensive, factory-farm approach to food production," says Greenfield of Ben & Jerry's (see BusinessWeek.com, 3/7/06, "The Case Against Cloning").
Most consumers are steering clear of clones. Gallup polls report that over 61% of Americans think it is immoral to clone animals, and the Pew Initiative on Food & Biotechnology found that a similar percentage say they won't buy cloned milk, despite FDA approval. Some 3,000 people have already posted their comments with the FDA, during the period for open comments that runs for another month. One consumer Stephen Ziffer writes: "The risk to citizens forced to consume products from cloned animals is unknown and should not be approved."
But Scott stands firm in his belief that we are at the dawn of a new era, one with stronger animals that produce better food for all of us. "It would be a travesty for us to know as much as we do and not be able to bring it to the table," he says.
Gogoi is a contributing writer for BusinessWeek.com.