Barefoot Back-to-the-Lander Awarded for Contributions to Organic

George Siemon just wanted to be the back-to-the-lander type. What he never expected was that getting there would mean decades of traversing the country rallying farmers, strengthening USDA organic standards and leading what would become the nation’s largest organic farmer-owned cooperative.

This city kid turned small-town Wisconsin homesteader, who sports long hair and a gentle demeanor changed the food system as we know it.

This week, he will leave the comfort of his rural Wisconsin home and travel to Washington, D.C. once again, this time to accept the Organic Trade Association Organic Lifetime Achievement Award. The award recognizes someone for their extraordinary commitment to the organic industry — and there is no doubt he is a revolutionary in the organic movement.

“If I have a lifetime achievement award for organic achievement then Organic Valley has a lifetime achievement award,” said Siemon, Organic Valley founder and former CEO.

Sitting on a wooden chair outside his home with a cat stretched out on its back by his bare feet, Siemon transparently and thoughtfully talks about the organic industry and Organic Valley’s evolution.

From helping write the first organic standards on an orange piece of paper to shaking hands with former President Barack Obama, Siemon’s journey has positively impacted consumers, farmers, Earth and all of us.

“How lucky is a guy to have such meaningful work?” he said.

The Resurgence of Back-to-the-Landers and Organics

Siemon and his then-wife Jane Siemon were part of the back-to-the-land movement in the 1970s. George describes back-to-the-landers as people who wanted to “move to the country, have babies, cook their own food.”

The couple moved to the Driftless Region of Wisconsin which was a meld of hippies, old-timers, homesteaders and eclectics — it’s one of those places you stay once you discover it, George said. He and Jane made it their home in 1976 and began milking cows. Jane was from Denver and George, Florida. It was a new lifestyle and hard work for the two.

The ’80s became a dark time for farmers, with interest rates hitting a record high of 21.5% in ’81, farmers going into debt, losing their farms and some committing suicide because of it. The 1985 Farm Bill did nothing for farmers, George said.

In 1988, at the peak of the U.S. farm crisis, George and a handful of family farmers realized if they wanted help, they would not be able to rely on anybody but themselves. They gathered and founded Coulee Region Organic Produce Pool (CROPP) — a farmer-owned cooperative with a focus on organic agriculture and keeping farmers on their land. (CROPP today stands for Cooperative Regions of Organic Producer Pools, the umbrella business that owns the Organic Valley brand.)

“Our mission is that organic food should represent sustainability to the Earth. You can’t have sustainable food without sustainable farms,” George said.

Along with helping farmers and keeping toxic chemicals off the land, the co-op provided another food option that was not available at the time. And once consumers learned of the food option, organic products took off and “Organic Valley rode the wave” for a time, George said.

Traditional farmers, back-to-landers and professionals who retreated to the country provided broad perspectives that were a major factor in the co-op’s success.

“There were a handful of people and a handful of farmers who went all in,” George said.

George and other founders traveled the country holding meetings in churches, courthouses, bars and barns inviting thousands of farmers to convert to organic agriculture and join the co-op.

George and Friends Help Create Organic Standards

The co-op focused on selling organic produce, a prospect that likely wouldn’t work on its own. In March 1988, Organic Valley started an organic dairy program and was shipping milk that July.

Since the beginning, the co-op’s founders have paid attention to the organic scene and good food movement and, as importantly, to consumers’ needs.

There were no official organic standards at the time, so Organic Valley made its own. Co-op committee members agreed on the definition of “organic.” George and the co-op set high standards that eventually served as the framework for the USDA’s organic rules.

“It was just the Wild West,” George said of “certified organic.” The co-op wanted more regulation, so its leaders asked the government for more oversight and stricter standards. An organization requesting increased scrutiny — imagine that!

A few years later, work began to create a national bill and leaders passed an organic labeling law in 1990.

Organic Animal Care Standards

George was one of the few leaders to call for higher animal welfare requirements on organic farms. There was a “black hole in animal care standards in the early days,” George said. Armed with passion and an animal science degree, he became an unofficial adviser to the USDA livestock sector and could be considered the first organic animal scientist in the nation.

He was elected to serve on the National Organic Standards Board (NOSB) — as the only board member who was a farmer — and spent years traveling back and forth to D.C. for meetings.

“We wanted good standards, and you have to be involved. You have to be active in the government processes to have influence,” he said.

One of the most divisive animal care standard issues in the co-op and in the organic movement was the decision to prohibit antibiotics in livestock (unless an animal becomes sick — we would never let an animal suffer, and organic regulations would later reinforce that approach). Some farmers thought it couldn’t be done; it was too big of a risk. Organic Valley moved forward with the decision. Some farmers left the co-op, but many consumers embraced the decision.

But other companies followed Organic Valley’s lead of removing antibiotics from their herds, which was a win for everyone even if it meant more competition for the co-op.

That vision later was incorporated into the organic livestock welfare rule of 2017. After it was rescinded by a new administration, George led the effort to get it overturned in federal court. After many years of litigation, the organic industry got the rule restored in 2023.

George also played an instrumental role in developing the overall USDA national standards for organic certification, which were implemented in 2002. He has contributed countless hours supporting organic legislation, research and education at the local, state and national levels, often working closely with the Organic Trade Association and The Organic Center.

George also initiated Farmers Advocating for Organics, the largest organic-focused granting fund in the U.S., which is funded entirely by Organic Valley farmer-owners.

Jim Wedeberg, another of the co-op’s founding organic farmers and today’s Organic Valley director of international cooperative development, said Organic Valley would not be what it is without George’s guidance. “I don’t think there was anybody with his vision and leadership to make the decisions we needed to at the time,” the Wisconsin farmer said.

The co-op had the first organized supply of organic milk in the U.S. and developed a model for regional production and regional pools created under George’s guidance. This was a model that would lead to a stable, competitive market for organic dairy farmers from coast to coast.

“I can’t think of anyone more instrumental in the development of the co-op than George,” Wedeberg said. “He was a rock, and his guidance and vision were very much appreciated.”

What’s on George’s Plate?

George, affectionately known by employees as Organic Valley’s C-E-I-E-I-O, left the co-op in 2019. With his unconventional leadership qualities, he became a revolutionary in the organic sector and a friend and mentor to hundreds of employees and farmers across the nation.

“You have to accept that people want leaders, heroes, someone at the front of the room and I have to accept that,” he said.

George continues to lead an organic lifestyle. He is still that long-haired hippy back-to-the-lander, with canned goods and books about wildflowers and mushrooms lining the shelves and a massive “ditch rock” fireplace ruling the main living area of their country home. He has his opportunity to chop wood for what he calls their “fireplace addiction.” And among his greatest joys are his grandchildren.

While sharing his story, George’s partner Theresa Marquez, a pioneer in the natural food movement and Organic Valley’s first chief marketing executive, fills a watering can and gives her freshly planted herbs a drink. Birds break the silence, and a vast view of tree-covered hills overtakes the landscape. Calm. Serene.

George continues growing organic food as he intended nearly 50 years ago, and he is still an innovator. He is on a board involved with supporting the concept of trust ownership and is also an adviser to people who come to him for input. One day may be full of conversations about organics, and the next, a “rousing talk” with a Silicon Valley executive. The next could be spent simply birdwatching, a favorite leisurely activity of his.

George did the food system, farmers and all of us, a great justice by leading the organic movement.

“Everybody agreed, we needed to be at the table,” he said. “What we did was build an iconic brand by being the good guys.”

Now at 1,600 farms, Organic Valley farmer-owners represent nearly 10% of the entire nation’s certified organic farming community and 57% of organic dairy farms in the nation. Organic Valley became a $1 billion business, while nationally, total organic sales — including organic non-food products — hit a record $67 billion, according to the OTA.

“Organic Valley is blessed with a lot of good people,” he said. “I always loved to be around organic individuals because you feel that energy.”

George never wanted to be a business executive, but “you learn more at the dining room table than you realize,” he said of the business smarts he gathered from his father who sold office supplies in the family business. He found his desire to change the system was greater than his disinterest in business.

Marquez was always there to nudge him. Now, George says she knew that he was the advocate and energy the organic world needed at the time. He can finally accept that.

“It was right — it was my destiny,” George said.