Outstanding in Their Field

T. J. Callahan, ’03

Farmheads, Chicago

T. J. Callahan’s foray into farming began with a search for a weekend getaway. In 2012, after settling in Chicago and opening a restaurant, he and his wife, Molly, were looking for a place to escape the city. In the hilly Driftless area of Wisconsin, they discovered a gorgeous 140-acre property that had previously been a family farm dating back to the 1830s. “It’s literally older than the city of Chicago,” says Callahan, who couldn’t resist the thought of bringing the land back to life. (Chicago was incorporated in 1837.)

Buying a farm also made business sense for this “career restaurant guy” and founder and owner of Farmheads, a Chicago-based hospitality group. Callahan got his start at a fast-food restaurant in a New Hampshire resort community at age 14. He studied hotel and restaurant management at the University of Massachusetts and managed several TGI Fridays before launching a career as a restaurant consultant and business manager. Coming to Booth “gave me confidence I could run with the big dogs and figure out whatever I put my mind to,” says Callahan, who, after graduation, spent about five years helping restaurants navigate Chapter 11 bankruptcy before opening his own restaurant, Farmhouse Tavern, in 2011. It earned a spot on the coveted Michelin Bib Gourmand list for its elevated Midwestern comfort food made with locally sourced, sustainable ingredients.

The idea of farming for the restaurant was “a pretty obvious next step,” he says. After purchasing the land, he and Molly started with a small apple orchard, an asparagus bed, and four beehives. Today, Brown Dog Farm—named after the couple’s Chesapeake Bay retrievers—boasts more than 200 trees and 50 hives. In addition to apples, the farm produces apricots, cherries, peaches, pears, and plums, as well as garlic, horseradish, berries, and more. Brown Dog Farm isn’t certified organic, but Callahan says he uses holistic and organic practices, such as spraying trees with fermented fish and kelp to help suppress disease and support healthy growth. After completing one of those applications, he becomes “very popular with my dogs,” he says. On the downside, “Molly doesn’t want me in the house.”

Farmhouse Tavern closed during the pandemic, but Callahan now owns two other Chicago restaurants, both called Farm Bar. One of the best-selling cocktails at both is the Brown Dog Old Fashioned, made with honey and black walnut bitters from the farm. Many of the apples grown on the farm are made into a hard cider that’s served on draft; others are turned into a syrup used in dishes throughout the fall. The farm-to-table aspect “differentiates us from other restaurants on the street,” says Callahan. “It’s part of the story we tell and creates an emotional connection with guests.”

In addition to providing a hyperlocal tie-in for diners, the farm allows Callahan to unplug. “When I’m running the restaurant, I’m dealing with bankers and attorneys and human resources,” he says. “When I’m a farmer, I’m doing things like attaching a trailer to my pickup truck and going to the local stable for a load of manure.” If that sounds at all unpleasant, it’s a reminder that farming can be difficult. Callahan admits that he has “made every mistake you could make,” starting with planting full-size trees rather than dwarf varieties, which produce easier-to-pick fruits. He sticks with farming, however, for the gratification he feels when he sees his apples go through a neighbor’s cider press and the smiles on customers’ faces when they sip the final product. “Restaurant people are performers—it’s all about making people happy,” Callahan says.

There’s plenty to make him happy too. His first reward, he says, is the personal satisfaction he feels from producing crops. And “when the kitchen is cranking, and food is coming out, and cocktails are flying from the bar, and guests are happy, there’s a second reward.”

Clara Purk, ’22

AgriCapture, Nashville

There’s a reason rice is often grown in a flooded environment. “Having that layer of water keeps oxygen from getting to the soil, which suppresses weed growth,” says Clara Purk, vice president of operations at AgriCapture, a Tennessee-based company that certifies operations that use sustainable agricultural practices. The rice grows weed free.

However, that bonus has an environmental counterpoint: the anaerobic environment causes microorganisms to emit methane, a greenhouse gas. Purk’s organization works with farmers to implement an alternative irrigation practice that controls weeds but also produces less methane.

This practice—which involves alternately flooding and drying the fields—is just one that AgriCapture is teaching farmers in order to lessen the climate impacts of agriculture, which accounts for 10 percent of greenhouse gases released in the United States.

The teaching involves some convincing and cajoling. “A lot of farmers have been growing the same way for decades,” Purk says. Even if they’re using a carbon-intensive method, they’re often reluctant to make a change for fear of damaging yields. That’s where AgriCapture comes in. The company provides farmers with financial incentives to reduce their footprint, in part through the sale of carbon offset credits, by connecting them with companies that will pay for those credits. “We’re like matchmakers between those market mechanisms [the credits] and the farmers on the ground who are actually making the changes,” she says.

Purk was born in Chicago and grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah. She earned a full scholarship to the University of Southern California, where she initially studied international relations before switching to international business; upon graduation, she consulted on operations and competitive strategy for financial-services clients with Accenture. Her passion for sustainability emerged during a sabbatical in 2019 in which she traveled to Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and South Africa. “I was really moved by the emphasis on conservation and by seeing animals in their natural environment,” Purk says. She wanted her career to make a positive environmental impact and help ensure future generations could experience the same things she had.

Purk came to Booth to chart next steps. While taking classes in sustainability and social impact investing, she became fascinated by the concept of regenerative agriculture, which holds that climate impact can be reversed by storing more carbon in the land. An internship at the Chicago-based social investor Impact Engine led Purk to AgriCapture, where she oversees programs to help farmers implement sustainable practices and to track the reduction in carbon emissions, using farmers’ own data coupled with remote sensing and satellite imagery. With her help, farmers monetize those benefits by charging a premium for climate-friendly products and selling their carbon offset credits.

In addition to working on sustainable rice, AgriCapture is focused on reducing the use of nitrogen fertilizer to cut nitrous oxide, another greenhouse gas. The company is also exploring new programs to conserve natural grasslands and improve soil health, which would keep more carbon in the ground and out of the atmosphere. “I love learning about the science, talking to the people who are actually feeding us, and knowing that what I am doing is helping to create a more positive, sustainable world,” Purk says.

Tim Meyer, ’91

Equity Advisors, Barrington, Illinois

Growing up on a farm in Iowa gave Tim Meyer a lot of time to think. “When you have to go out in the field on a tractor and plow for six hours, it’s important to entertain yourself,” he says. He played 18-hole games of golf in his head. Now, as the owner of an organic farm a five-hour drive from his home in Chicago, Meyer uses his time in the car to dream up new farm equipment. “I have a lot of time to visualize products that can take care of this weed or that weed,” he says. “As an engineer, I’m always thinking of a better way to do things.”

Meyer studied chemical engineering at Iowa State, then spent 13 years as an engineer and sales manager before moving to Chicago. After Booth, followed by a three-year stint as a Wall Street analyst, he felt ready to launch his own investment banking firm. Equity Advisors opened in 1996 and primarily handles mergers and acquisitions for clients in the food ingredient, manufacturing, and biotechnology industries.

All along the way, Meyer had been putting his own money in farmland, which he calls “an investment that can be enjoyed from both a visual and physical perspective.” While the idea of a small, bucolic farm is embedded in the American consciousness, the success of a large, modern operation often requires maintaining expensive technology, keeping up on global trends (such as land development in Brazil), and weathering fluctuating prices.

At Booth, Meyer took courses in finance, banking theory, and behavioral economics—and learned about the importance of anticipating and planning for economic turns. In 2016–18, amid a global glut of corn and soybeans, he decided to test the viability of organic farming, which tends to have more stable margins. “It’s part of my nature—as well as my education through Chicago—to plan and stay ahead of the curve,” he says.

Meyer knew that perhaps the biggest challenge to organic farming was weed management. Chemical herbicides such as Roundup are popular on nonorganic farms and widespread because they suppress weeds cheaply. Could there be a scalable, viable alternative? To answer that, he paired his financial models with personal experience.  

In 2019, Meyer started organically farming the 320 acres he owns in northeast Iowa, where he now spends hours designing and perfecting equipment that can attack weeds while leaving crops undamaged. “I focus my time on weed management. The biggest detriment to yields and profitability is lack of weed control,” he says. “If you want to beat the enemy, you have to understand the enemy.” This understanding comes from long hours in the fields, where he often works alongside the people he hires. He has spent hundreds of hours testing and adjusting his custom-created cultivators.

Farmwork is not necessarily convenient. “When it’s time to cultivate, you have to cultivate,” he says. “It doesn’t matter that it’s Father’s Day or your birthday. If you don’t do it now, you’ll suffer.” But his effort has borne fruit, so to speak. His cost of manual weed management has fallen from $600 to $75 per acre, creating more profitable crops of corn, oats, and soybeans.

Farming is now a counterpoint to Meyer’s life in the city. Particularly after an intense negotiation, he trades the boardroom and traffic for a tractor and blue skies. He can start the day in a suit and finish the same day in jeans and boots. But his tractor can also turn into a remote office, where he takes calls and continues his dealings.

Meyer says his foray into organic farming wouldn’t be possible without a supportive community. In the nearest town (population 2,000), he has found neighbors willing to repair equipment, sell fuel and seeds, and offer advice, sometimes with a beer in hand.

Because farming isn’t his primary source of income, Meyer says he’s able to take risks and learn things that he wants to share. He has been teaching his methods to his children, who are all in their 20s, and is considering creating videos or other tutorials. “My philosophy has always been to improve the land to increase yields for future generations,” Meyer says. “I aim to educate more farmers on the benefits of organic farming and the methods I’ve perfected.”