The Chaebol Returns To The Presidency 1967 [EN]: Chapter 58

재벌총수가 대통령으로 회귀함1967 재벌총수가 대통령으로 회귀함 1967-58화(58/225)

58. Majaeng-dong Disguise (1)

Majaeng-dong.

The President made a secret visit to the Majang-dong Livestock Market in Seoul ahead of the Chuseok [Korean Thanksgiving] holiday.

The Majang-dong Livestock Market was a marketplace trading beef, pork, and various by-products fresh from the slaughterhouse.

Around this time, the Majang-dong Livestock Market handled 9.8% of the nation’s beef distribution volume, 30-40% of by-products like intestines and cow heads, and 60% of imported meat, making it the largest single-item livestock market in the country.

Butcher shops lined both sides of the alley like street stalls.

The stench of rancid fat and rotting blood was overwhelming, inducing nausea.

A burly man with tattoos on his massive forearms, looking like a brigand, slammed down a sharp, S-shaped hook.

Thud!

The man dragged the decapitated pig carcass across the ground and into the butcher shop.

Right across the street was the slaughterhouse where cattle and pigs were butchered.

Squeal! Squeal!

Moo~

Cattle and pigs were being unloaded from trucks into the holding pen.

With the holidays and meat-eating season approaching, the amount of slaughtering increased more than fourfold, leaving no empty space in the holding pen, and trucks loaded with livestock were lined up waiting.

Butcher shop employees sharpened their meat cleavers on whetstones, making a grating sound.

On one side, a skinned, bright red cow carcass was hung up, and workers were using sharp boning knives to separate the bones from the meat.

A middle-aged woman who came to buy beef for ancestral rites was horrified and collapsed, her legs giving way.

“Oh, my goodness!”

She covered her pale lips with her hand, gagged as if suffering from morning sickness, and crawled away, trembling.

She had seen a pile of Korean beef heads stacked in one corner of the butcher shop.

The dead eyes were milky white, and blood was flowing from the freshly cut neck.

To a housewife who had only seen square-cut meat from butcher shops, it looked like chopped corpses.

Moreover, a large basin next to it contained pig intestines soaked in water.

The President clicked his tongue as he walked through the livestock market alley.

“The hygiene is terrible.”

The floor was covered with grease, emitting a rancid odor and was so slippery that it was difficult to walk.

Black rats, sleek from eating meat, roamed around without fear of people.

Workers carried slaughtered carcasses on their shoulders, throwing them to the ground and dragging them away.

Boned meat was hung from hooks on the ceiling.

There were no refrigeration facilities, and the meat was stored at room temperature.

Frozen meat became hard as a brick and lost its flavor, so they deliberately hung it at room temperature to show customers that it wasn’t frozen, even if it was bloody.

This shortened the expiration date, forcing consumers to eat it immediately after purchase.

Beef was somewhat better, but pork, which spoiled quickly, often caused food poisoning.

So, there was even a saying that eating pork in the summer was barely worth it.

The President noted his observations in his notebook.

A long line was visible in front of a butcher shop.

The President asked a woman in line.

“What is this line for?”

“For beef.”

Neighborhood butcher shops often stored meat in showcases with red lights to make the meat look fresher, but they were not refrigerated.

Refrigeration was inadequate, and when the day’s sales were over, they would freeze the meat and thaw it the next day to sell it.

Once frozen meat is thawed, the muscle tissue is destroyed, and the juices flow out, making it dry and tough, so thrifty housewives looked for butcher shops that sold a lot of meat.

That way, one pig or one cow would be sold out that day, and fresh pork would come in the next day.

The reason why neighborhood women visited the Majang-dong Livestock Market ahead of the holidays was to buy fresh meat.

The President asked again.

“Why is this butcher shop’s line so long?”

“Why? Because it’s next to the slaughterhouse, so it’s fresh and cheap. And they give you a generous amount.”

Looking closely, the butcher shop employee was slicing beef round with a knife and roughly weighing it on an analog needle scale before wrapping it in newspaper.

The President asked the bodyguard who was accompanying him on the secret visit.

“Is that Korean beef [Hanwoo]?”

The bodyguard tilted his head.

“Well, once it’s cut, I can’t even tell if it’s pork or beef.”

The President asked if it was Korean beef because, in the holding pen, half of them were clearly dairy cows, and there were boxes of imported meat piled up in one corner of the store, but every butcher shop had signs saying “Genuine Korean Beef, 100% Korean Beef.”

Half of the domestic beef slaughtered were dairy cows.

The President asked another woman buying beef.

“Is that Korean beef?”

“Of course.”

“How do you know if it’s Korean beef or not?”

“You really don’t know. Imported meat is crumbly and bloodless even when thawed, but here, they hang up freshly slaughtered cows and cut them up to sell. There’s no way to cheat. They even have Korean beef tails hanging there.”

A chronic problem in livestock distribution was the disguised sale of Korean beef.

At the time, imported meat was frozen, so it was often thawed and sold as Korean beef, or restaurants would cook it and serve it as Korean beef.

Refrigerated meat was unconditionally disguised as Korean beef.

Just looking at the skinned carcass, it was impossible to visually distinguish it from a dairy cow.

It was common to display Korean beef heads or tails and sell dairy cows or imported meat.

There was a clear difference in taste, but at the time, ordinary people only ate beef soup once a year, around birthdays or holidays, so it was difficult to distinguish Korean beef from imported meat by taste, and their wish was to eat as much beef as they wanted.

Taking advantage of this, butcher shops frequently made exorbitant profits by selling imported meat and dairy cows at several times the price.

The Cheonggyecheon Stream flowed next to the slaughterhouse.

Slaughtering required a lot of blood and water for washing, so slaughterhouses were located near large rivers.

Behind the butcher shop alley was a food street.

Steam billowed from sundae [Korean blood sausage], boiled pork slices, and gukbap [rice soup with meat].

The President’s party took a seat at a gukbap restaurant.

They were hungry from walking around, and the savory smell of gukbap made their mouths water even more after feasting their eyes on fresh meat.

“Three sundae gukbap and a pitcher of makgeolli [Korean rice wine], please!”

The three devoured the gukbap.

Across the street from the gukbap restaurant, dozens of so-called “bangseokjip” (room salons) were lined up.

Meat transactions at the cattle market and slaughterhouse were traditionally all cash transactions, so there was plenty of cash around the slaughterhouse.

With large sums of money coming in, the entertainment district was also bustling.

The President asked the gukbap restaurant owner.

“Those bars seem to be doing well?”

“The only place that makes good money here is those bars.”

“Do they drink with the money they get from selling cows?”

“Regulars are more reliable than those passersby.”

“Are the regulars butcher shop owners?”

“That’s right. The butcher shops take all the money and give it all to the bar girls.”

“Hmm, the butcher shops are the kings here.”

“Hey, no. There’s another boss.”

“What? No? Who’s the boss?”

“The slaughterhouse porters.”

“The porters…”

“The porters are full of tough guys who know how to use their fists.”

“Fists…”

“The fists here are nationwide. Since they have to carry cows and pigs on their backs, if you’re big and good at using your fists, you come here. They pay a lot of money. The bar girls all have owners. Those owners are all porters.”

“…….”

“The real rich people are the auctioneers, but they don’t eat with the porters here, they play in the gisaeng houses [traditional Korean courtesan houses] in Seoul.”

A shabby-looking man in his 50s took a seat next to them.

It was obvious at a glance that he was from the countryside.

The man shouted.

“Madam, give me makgeolli!”

When the owner brought the makgeolli pitcher, he snatched it and poured a full glass, gulping it down.

He drank three glasses in a row like that.

“One more!”

But the man didn’t look well.

The President asked.

“Sir, did you come to buy meat?”

“Meat! I came to ship pigs.”

“Are you a pig farmer?”

“I put out 20, but I didn’t get much in my hands. Those thieving bastards!”

The man cursed outright, and as his anger flared, he drank another glass.

The President asked.

“It’s a busy season, so the price of pigs must be good?”

“Those thieves take it all, so it’s just pocket change.”

“…….”

The owner said.

“You should be glad you didn’t abandon the pigs.”

“Damn it, I thought about abandoning them a few times.”

The President asked.

“Abandon the pigs?”

The owner said.

“If you go under the Cheonggyecheon bridge, you can sometimes pick up abandoned pigs.”

“You abandon perfectly good live pigs? Why?”

“People who don’t know the express fee can’t wait and just abandon the pigs.”

“…….”

“Once, when there was a cow and pig crisis, they abandoned dozens of pigs because the slaughter fee didn’t come out.”

“…….”

The man said.

“I had a waiting number, and I waited two days to slaughter them. It’s because I didn’t pay the express fee, as the owner said.”

The President asked.

“Oh dear! How much is the express fee?”

“It’s one pig for every five pigs during the busy season. I lost four pigs.”

“You just lost four pigs.”

“After I and the truck driver ate and slept for a night, another pig flew away. If I had known it would be like this, I would have paid the express fee from the beginning.”

The man poured makgeolli into his troubled stomach.

The owner said.

“That’s because you ship them directly.”

The man grumbled.

“That’s what I’m saying. I shipped them directly because the collectors were undercutting me, but they’re retaliating like that.”

The President now understood what he meant.

“So, you didn’t ship them to the local collectors, but the farmers shipped them directly to the slaughterhouse, so they retaliated.”

“That’s right.”

From the farmer’s pigs to the consumer, it had to go through a long distribution stage: farmer – local collector – slaughterhouse – auction – wholesaler – retailer (butcher shop) – consumer.

Each distribution stage made a profit, so the livestock farmers who had raised them for several years didn’t have much left, and if the price dropped, only the farmers were in debt.

It wasn’t just livestock, but other agricultural products had the same distribution structure where only the middlemen made money.

The man said.

“It’s not just the express fee.”

“What else is there?”

“I put in a 130-geun (90kg) pig, but after slaughtering, it wasn’t even 60-geun.”

“What? Not even half?”

“Even if you take off the skin, take out the intestines, and cut off the head and legs, the yield should be 60%, but it came out as a baby pig.”

“Goodness, what happened?”