West Marin ranchers had high hopes when they joined a collaborative effort to open a mobile slaughterhouse, giving them control over a key link in the region’s farm-to-table food chain. But less than two years after it opened, their Marin-based facility has closed.

The enterprise succumbed to management woes, worker shortages and supply-chain bottlenecks. But its members are taking solace from the fact that their efforts called attention to the need for a local slaughterhouse—and that two have opened since they established their shuttered facility.

“We now have options that we didn’t have before,” said Guido Frosini, owner of True Grass Farms in Tomales. “I’m really proud of us to have at least put in the effort.”

The Bay Area Ranchers Cooperative, known as BAR-C, opened amid great fanfare in February 2022. It was intended to fill an acute gap created after Marin Sun Farms, the meat company founded by Point Reyes rancher David Evans, announced that its newly acquired Petaluma slaughterhouse would no longer serve producers who sell under their own private labels. The closure left local farmers with two bad options: hauling their livestock to Eureka or to the Central Valley for processing.

For some of the co-op’s members—who came from as far south as Santa Cruz and as far north as Mendocino—the roundtrip journey could take up to 10 hours. It was hard on the animals, and burning fuel released carbon, which the co-op’s many ecologically minded members were loath to do.

“There was a real moment of crisis for a lot of our ranchers, who saw the pathway to market for their animals getting a lot harder,” said Vince Trotter, the ombudsman and sustainable agriculture coordinator for the University of California Cooperative Extension, which advised the co-op when it was getting started.

“There was a feeling that this would be transformative,” Mr. Trotter said. “There was so much excitement that this critical part of the food system would be owned and operated by producers and not by someone who may or may not place their interests at the heart of the business.” 

The 39 co-op members spent a year getting organized, studying the market and making a business plan. But by the time they got off the ground, two other slaughterhouses had already begun serving the market: North Bay Butchers and JMF Slaughter, both based in Petaluma. The independent operators could get up and running faster than a cooperative with nearly 40 members. 

“Feasibility studies showed the capacity for a couple of units, but now you had three, and the co-op was third in line,” Mr. Trotter said. “Getting a successful, financially stable slaughter business going is incredibly tricky. There are a lot of places where it can go wrong.”

While waiting for BAR-C to get off the ground, some co-op members began using the new mobile slaughterhouses. After establishing those relationships, some were hesitant to give them up.

“Everybody’s always hedging their bets,” Mr. Frosini said. “People who initially said they were going to bring a certain number of animals to us didn’t, because we opened later. They didn’t want to put all their eggs in one basket. We were new at it.”

BAR-C also ran into cash-flow and staffing problems, the co-op said in a statement released last month officially announcing its closing—nearly a year after it stopped processing cattle.

The co-op had planned to open in May 2021, in the midst of the pandemic, but delays in getting a PG&E hookup postponed the opening until February 2022. The manager they had already begun paying left four months before BAR-C opened its doors, and the co-op had to lay off its business manager three months later to control spending.

Amid the staffing turmoil, the facility was cited several times by a United States Department of Agriculture inspector for inhumane handling of livestock after failed attempts to knock out animals required them to be stunned more than once.

“The situation worsened when our lead slaughterman gave notice just before the Thanksgiving holiday,” the statement said.

The co-op continued searching for staff through the summer but could not find a qualified operator.

“While the BAR-C facility has closed its doors, we take solace in the fact that our advocacy for local meat processing has had a lasting impact,” the statement said. “We have worked tirelessly to bring attention to the need for processing options in the Bay Area, and the results are evident in the emergence of new cut-and-wrap choices for ranchers.”

Nationwide, roughly 85 percent of meat production is controlled by just four massive processing companies. BAR-C was meant to serve small producers who don’t have the clout to get consistent service from larger slaughterhouses.

The mobile slaughterhouse was housed in a 36-foot-long trailer with wheels and stood on a concrete slab. Although it remained in one location because operating it was expensive, the facility was mobile so it could meet zoning requirements, which are more complex for a grounded facility. 

When the slaughterhouse opened, a high-ranking official from the U.S.D.A. came for a tour and to talk to ranchers about how they put their cooperative together.

Mr. Frosini, who raises cows, sheep and chickens at his Tomales ranch, had high hopes for BAR-C, whose opening spared him from making a long roundtrip with his cattle and sheep to Humboldt County.  

“I was one of the closest ranchers in the whole co-op,” Mr. Frosini said. “BAR-C was five minutes from my ranch. And it was a dream come true.”

Like many ranchers in the co-op, Mr. Frosini runs a small organic operation and sells his meat directly to consumers and farmers markets. While he’s disappointed that the effort was unsuccessful, he has no regrets about investing time in the enterprise.

“A lot of us who were board members put a lot of effort into making it work,” he said. “It’s disappointing, but I wouldn’t take it back. I’ve learned so much in the last couple years. It wasn’t easy, but I loved how it brought us together.”