Mad Jack's For Sale: James Jackson Makes it Official, Dishes with The Reader
The barbeque heavyweight puts his spectacularly successful Mountaintop Barbecue joint on the market. Jackson opens up to the Reader about his decision to sell...maybe.
It’s Official
James Jackson is putting Mad Jack’s Mountaintop Barbecue up for sale, including the rustic building that sprawls along James Canyon Highway.
“I've been really on the fence about (selling.) It's a huge decision for me to make. I really love the business. I love the place. I love Cloudcroft. I'm a man of faith, and I've prayed and hoped God would lead me in the right direction.”
“I'm at these crossroads, but letting all this stuff get to me, I can tell the stress has a negative effect on me. And then I started having this high blood pressure problem after I'd already had a heart valve replacement. A lot of my mom's family died really young, with heart problems. It makes me a little concerned.”
The worth-the-wait barbecue joint—both building and business, including a three-bedroom upstairs apartment and pavilion—is officially listed at $2.5 million with Cloudcroft’s Future Real Estate realtor Megan Corvin.
So, how did James get to this point? The man known as Mad Jack shares his journey with Cloudcroft Reader’s Hannah Dean over a series of phone calls and a sit-down interview.
Picture this: you’ve never smoked meat a day in your life, but you model yourself after the greats and build a wildly successful BBQ shack in Lockhart, Texas, the barbecue capital.
After costly demands from the city, the loss of your father, and an unexpected inherited windfall, you pack it all up and land in the tiny village of Cloudcroft, where you build one of the most legendary locally-owned small businesses in New Mexico.
Then, ten years into your endeavors, you consider selling your empire and living the good life on the beach in Honduras, pineapple drink in hand.
That’s exactly what James Jackson, the owner and entrepreneurial genius behind Mad Jack’s Mountaintop Barbecue, plans to do.
At a Crossroads
James has a lot on his mind lately.
“I’ve been waking up at 3 a.m. I haven’t been sleeping good,” James says.
James’ health has been vexing lately, and the stress of keeping up with unusually busy business as usual is taking its toll.
The 63-year-old barbeque icon was recently confronted with his mortality, realizing that a grizzled old man he saw in Walmart was probably only 15 to 20 years his senior.
He gestures to the barbeque counter, where he spends his workweek chopping brisket and chatting with folks in the famously long Mad Jack’s lines. “As much as I love this place, I don't want it to kill me,” he says.
While Mad Jack’s is open only 4 days a week, the working hours for running a smoked barbeque joint grind away long into the night.
James describes his Thanksgiving day preparations, which he would dive into once our interview wrapped up:
“I've got to mix up the seasonings for brisket and get ready to smoke our turkey. All those tickets you see hanging up there are my Thanksgiving cook. It's 26 turkeys and 17 briskets. I’ll be out of here on Thanksgiving morning, hopefully about 11:00. We have an appointment at 1:00 at the Lodge to have Thanksgiving there. My brother is coming into town with his wife and his daughter.”
“And then Thursday evening, I’ve got to return and do the night shift. So that starts around 4:00 [p.m.] I'll spend the first half of Thanksgiving night here.”
James credits his hardscrabble work ethic to his parents.
“There are three people that I would have to thank for my success. And the first one was my mom. Mom made sure I worked. And as soon as I got old enough, she farmed me out to neighbors to mow the yards,” he says.
“And one thing leads to another. We had this old country bowling alley with kids setting the pins, so I did that. I also worked at some ranches. I've done everything. I've hauled hay. I've built a fence.”
“Mom taught me respect and manners. She took me to Sunday school, giving me a religious background. You’ve got to give her credit. And I got to give my dad credit for pinching his pennies his whole life. If he had been a party guy, a womanizer, and out at the beer joints and blowing money and stuff, I wouldn't inherit it.”
“Don’t Get Rid of the Mercury”
The story of Jackson’s inheritance is as far-fetched as it is enthralling. Jackson tells how he came to own the “old Mercantile” building in Cloudcroft:
“It had gotten to be a dream of mine to have a little cabin in the mountains. I lived my whole life in Lockhart, Texas, for over 50 years. And I was just ready for something different, I guess.”
“I noticed this building, I'd seen it online before, but it had a big price tag on it. Right around that time, they lowered the price on it quite a bit. I remember thinking, wow, maybe I could buy that. Maybe I could make an apartment upstairs and have a barbecue joint.”
“It was just purely a dream because I had no money. And I was smart enough; I wouldn't go into debt on a restaurant.”
“Dad's health was failing. And my brother came by the house; dad had a hospital bed at my house.”
“(My older brother) Mark worked at that time as a programmer for a big steel plant over in Seguin, Texas. And he was talking to Dad a little bit about how Dad was kind of a hoarder. He had over 20 junk cars out in the weeds behind the dealership. He was talking to Dad about crushing some of his cars. It looked so terrible out there. And I remember Dad didn't say anything about it at all. He was a little quiet.”
“Later, he said to me, if anything happens to me, don't get rid of the Mercury.”
“I knew Dad liked silver dollars, so I thought he had a couple of coffee cans of them in the car. And I said, okay, Dad, don't worry about it.”
“It was about almost a month after he passed. And I respect my dad. I didn't go looking at the Mercury. After a month or so, my brother came out to the car lot. And we wanted to know what to do with Dad's cars.”
“But there was one car, it was in our showroom that it looked like it was worth more than all the rest. I was just joking around. I said, Mark, let's just take turns picking. I said, You're the oldest son. I'll let you pick first. And he's smiling and said, Really? You’d let me go first. And, of course, he picked that Dodge Challenger. And he said, which one do you want? And I pointed it out. He said, oh, that rusty Mercury. The tires were rotted off these cars. Mark said you want that piece of junk?”
“And I had to come clean and tell him. We went out there to look at it and couldn't see anything in it. It was just rusty. And couldn't open up the doors. They had little trees growing around them. We go out there and open the trunk. That made it possible for me to pay cash for this building.”
For years, there had been over six figures in cash stashed away in the trunk of his dad’s rusted-out 1971 Mercury Montego. Mason jars stuffed with weathered bills are displayed in the rafters at Mad Jack’s, reminders of James’ journey to own the joint.
Striving for the Winner’s Circle
James recalls his life before barbecue, describing a longing for more. He recounts a time in his life when he felt like a failure. James started his career in Lockhart, Texas, working in his father’s Chrysler Buick car dealership, where he dreamed of one day taking over the business and pushing it to its full potential.
“I always knew I wanted to be good at something, do something successful someday.”
While working at the dealership, James began drag racing. “I liked to live. I liked to party a lot. That goes with the drag racing thing,” he says.
“One time I had to beg my dad for the entry fee for a big race, one where everyone came in from all over the country. He didn’t want me to risk it, but I finally wore him down. And then I won.”
“I came home with my head low, and when Dad started to worry, I slowly pulled the check out of my front pocket, and he saw the $7500 I’d won, which I think made him happy.”
“Dad had told me to hang out with the drag race champions, and I took that advice, and it worked.”
Just like with drag racing, James’ will to succeed pushed him into the winner’s circle of barbecue. He recalls reaching out to Aaron Franklin (of that Austin-based BBQ joint.)
“I worked at Black’s Barbecue for a little while. When I bought that food trailer, I worked at Black's; I just swept the floor. I was a kid mopping the floor and cleaning the bathrooms.”
“There's a guy in Austin that had gotten really well-known for his barbecue. And he raised the bar a little bit, even above the Lockhart guys. So I shot him an email and told him what I was trying to do. I really don't know what I asked him originally, but he's a super nice guy that's real willing to help other people.”
“He doesn't keep any secrets. so I started emailing Franklin and asking questions. And he was already well-known then, but every time I'd email him he'd reply. No telling what kind of stupid questions I asked him back then.”
What’s in a Name
“My friends all knew me as the car guy. They saw me pull up with that food truck trailer, and I said, I'm going to sell barbecue. They laughed, they said, you've lost your mind. You don't even know how to barbecue. And to make it bad, we were right there in the barbecue capital of Texas where we had all these legends, you know. And they said you've lost your mind.”
“And so that's where the mad came from originally—mad like I'm crazy.”
“One time Dad told me, he said, you know, nobody called your grandpa by his name. He said, they all called him Jack because our last name was Jackson.”
“Mad Jack's Barbecue Shack, that's got a good ring to it. And so that's what I named the trailer. It's kind of a catchy name. It stirred up a lot of conversation.”
The article continues after this brief message. Cloudcroft Reader is proud to be sponsored in part by great businesses like Be in the Mountains Yoga.
Cooking with Fire: A Year of Perfecting His Craft
“This is where the stories make it to drag racing. I took that trailer home, and like I said, I'm really competitive, and I didn't want to embarrass myself. I lived out in the country about five miles out of Lockhart. And I took it home and practiced for about a year.”
“I was obsessed with it. I was recording anything I could. I used to record Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. I’d stay up late at night.”
“One of the biggest mistakes I made was looking online, especially when it comes to brisket. A lot of these competition guys make really complicated rubs. And so I wanted to be better than Franklin, better than Lockhart's. I'd mix them with 12 or 14 ingredients with all kinds of crazy stuff. And none of the briskets I was making at home were turning out. And finally, I learned a lot by watching Franklin's YouTube videos. And he's always talking about... just salt and pepper.”
“So finally, one night, I thought, there's no way just salt and pepper is going to be great. It was kind of late, and I didn't want to mix up a bunch of junk. And so I did a salt and pepper rub, and that was the best brisket I had ever made. Since then, I have never gone back. I've adjusted the ratio of salt and pepper, and for the most part, it stayed the same as it did that night.”
“It's kind of the old-school way of cooking things with fire.”
Surprising Popularity in a Population-800 Village
James loves his customers and recounts the surprising people he meets in his lines. The feeling is mutual, and folks from around the country send him gifts after eating his barbecue.
Said gifts include concert tickets, countless bottles of liquors, pies, cookies, a poem, a Texas flag that flew over the Capital, and recently prime 50-yard line tickets for an upcoming Dallas Cowboys football game—even a Purple Heart license plate and letter of appreciation.
“In this business, you definitely need to be a people person. And I don't have a lot of talents or gifts, but one thing I do have: I love meeting people.”
In fact, many veterans are among his over 21,000 followers on Mad Jack’s Facebook page, whom he regularly honors through discounts, visits with in his crowded lines, and even smokes for at privately catered events.
“I've had quite a few people come in and say that they were told about us in Germany or Japan or one of the other military bases. Guys find out, oh, you're going to Holloman? Oh, you need to go up to Mad Jack’s. One time, one of the guys out at Holloman made me an honorary commander out there.”
“A general called me one day; he said Hey, Jack. We’ve got a special visitor coming in to the base. Would you do a party at my house here on the base? We want to cater barbecue for him. It's a four-star retired general coming in. I thought, wow. That's impressive.”
“But doing something like that—as a kid, or not even just as a kid, when I was working with my dad—I never dreamed I'd ever meet someone like that.”
“In this business, you definitely need to be a people person. And I don't have a lot of talents or gifts, but one thing I do have: I love meeting people, and that's a huge thing. And a lot of what we do here is not even the food. I think it's the experience and how you're treated.”
“No matter what you're doing, if you're an electrician or a plumber, you have to have a passion for it. If you really love what you're doing, you're going to do that.”
“I think that part of me is so damn picky about things. There's a certain pepper on these. I go drive 640 miles to get the post oak.”
The Cloudcroft entrepreneur extends his success to his small mountain community, often by passing “the Love Bucket” down the customer line, where folks donate money to families in need.
Mad Jack’s influence on Cloudcroft can’t be overstated. It has topped multiple “best barbecue” lists, televised series, and online reviews, drawing visitors in from afar.
“Maybe growing up, Lockhart did something to me, but I didn't think I'd ever meet the people I’ve met or go to the places I’ve been.”
“I want to be one of the best. We've gotten a lot of accolades, which, of course, makes me feel good. I’ve gotten a lot of pats on my shoulder just recently, and half of that stuff is bullshit, but they said that we were one of the top 50 in the United States. And we were voted best in New Mexico a couple of times, and all that stuff.”
“I think it affects me because when I worked for my dad for 30 years, I felt like a failure. And now I'm getting all these pats, and everybody's telling me, Oh, you're good at what you do. You're the best. You're great. And so, of course, that makes me feel good after all those years of feeling like I wasn't very good.”
Mad Jack’s Two Minds
James’s heart is in his work, his community — even in the building itself.
Every tchotchke, old sign, taxidermied animal, and picture that adorns the walls of Mad Jack’s hold a personal connection and history—down to the arrowheads his father collected, which are epoxied into the large wooden tables. When James was a boy, he colored some with crayons, and the blue and orange wax was still visible in the grooves of the arrowheads.
It would be hard to leave it all behind.
“There's a lot of stuff we have, like when I added on this pavilion out here, that wasn't built with barbecue money, even if people think it was. That was built by selling a farm that my dad had. I bought this property in Roatan [Honduras] from selling my dad's dealership. Everything I have is from three or four generations of my dad's side of the family working their ass off, saving and saving and pinching and investing wisely.”
James believes in a personal touch, as illustrated by one of his childhood stories.
“When I was a boy, my mama would send me to a church camp called Highland Lakes, north of Austin or somewhere. And they had all these little dormitories there. Hundreds of kids from all over the state of Texas would go there. Hundreds of kids, maybe a thousand kids.”
“And they had this big cafeteria there. And what they did is, in the mornings, we'd go to Sunday school class, and a special group of counselors would go inspect all the dormitories and see who had the cleanest. Whoever had the nicest dormitory got to be first in line at lunchtime in the cafeteria. If you've got 900 kids, being first is a big thing.”
Anyway, our leader that took us, he wanted to win that thing. He had us go out at sunrise while the other kids were probably still sleeping. 6:00 a.m. or something. Because everybody was going to make their beds nice and sweep the floor. And we did all that, of course. But we went out at 6:00 a.m. and picked wildflowers.”
“And we would decorate the place with flowers and maybe put a little...Bible verse on the wall or something. We went above and beyond. Of course, we did it secretly. And every day, we got first place and were first in line every single time. You have to go above and beyond. You have to put flowers here and there.”
James put in similarly early—and late—hours in his initial Cloudcroft BBQ days.
“I came up here, bought this building, and turned the upstairs into an apartment. And I lived up there for the first two years. And I did all the barbecuing myself for the first couple of years. I didn't have the crew I have now.”
“But after we'd close, 3 p.m. or so, I'd go upstairs and sleep for about two or three hours, come back and refire the pits, and finish the cook.”
“Trying to be a perfectionist is part of the problem. Trying to make everybody happy is part of the problem. If I hear little things, and there's no way you'll make everybody happy, but it bothers me a lot.”
“People would be surprised. If I get a four-star review, it bothers me. I'm always thinking about what we can do better.”
“I'm a believer in God, and I figured if he wants a place to sell, he'll send me a buyer. If not, if after six months, if we don't do anything with it, I'm going to have to start doing a serious search for a manager.”
“Someone that can help me run and get some of the stress off me. I need to take care of my health, you know? In short, I had very mixed feelings about it. I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing, but we're going to throw it out there and see what happens.”
What Comes Next?
“So anyway, if the place did sell... I'm the kind of guy that can't just sit still.”
“I’ve got the option of selling this and spending all the money in Corpus Christi or something and opening a smaller place in Texas and being closer to my kids.”
“I love this place. It'd be hard to drive by, and it'd not be mine.”
“At the same time, I drive by my dad's little car lot and I spent 30 years there. And now there's a Wendy's and a car wash is sitting on my dad's property. I was just by there just a few days ago, and it makes me a little sad.”
“But right away, I think I’d like to be able to write a story about my life, and I want it to be interesting to the very end. I want it to have different chapters. I don't want it to just be dull.”
“Maybe a chapter of me with a little barbecue shack on the Caribbean island; that doesn't sound too bad. I could live like Jimmy Buffett.”
“Maybe a Texas Monthly list would be a nice addition.” James laughs and says, “Maybe my problem is I want it all. I had an ex-wife that said I had contentment issues.”
It'd be really hard to duplicate the success I've had here, those long lines and everything, at almost any other location other than here. I didn't realize it, but it's been a perfect location.
“I definitely need to learn how to get the stress off of me. That's so difficult.”
“What do you girls do? Yoga? (laughs) I'll tell you one thing that helps a lot. I just haven't had time to do it. But I used to go for hikes on these trails. There's a little bench down there you can sit. It's got a tremendous view. And all you got to do is walk down that trail and back, and you just fire your therapist because it's very relaxing.”
“I have that little place on the beach. I could build a little barbecue shack and do something that would be a much smaller scale. It'd be really hard to duplicate the success I've had here, those long lines and everything, at almost any other location other than here. I didn't realize it, but it's been a perfect location. I love the mountains. I love the summertime, I love the people here, I love everything about Cloudcroft.”
“I love small towns. Now, Roatan is a neat place. It's very much a third-world country, and I love that about it. A lot of Roatan reminds me of what it was like growing up in a little town in Central Texas back in the ‘60s and ‘70s. It's a lot more like that. There are a lot of expats there, but the locals are very poor by our standards, but I've never seen so many happy people. I can't say that, but they're very happy.”
For the Love of the Game
“Sometimes I think I could maybe do a little barbecue shack down there and then come back here for peak season when it's busy.”
“Because I love the environment here when it's busy. And it has nothing at all to do with money. Electricity is in the air when it's really busy. And the crew, we all feed off of each other. And when we feed off each other, the people in line here, our customers feed off of it, too. There's an energy in the air.”
“In the summer months, we've got those two- or three-hour long lines. The first couple of hours before we run out of energy, you can feel it in the air, and I can tell everybody kind of feeds off it. And we're hooting and bantering and cutting up the customers. It's just an experience. And I love that.”
“If I didn't have that drive where I had to be doing something, I could sell this place and live off the dividends of investments. Move to Honduras, and walk to the pulpería and buy me a baleada for a dollar. I could live cheaply and hang out with the locals, learn Spanish, walk on the beach, and maybe get a little fishing boat tied at my dock up in front of the house and go fishing. Maybe I'd live to be over 100 if I did that.”
“Once, I saw a documentary, and they were interviewing an old lady in Indonesia. And she was popular as a tattoo artist. She was up in the mountains area. And it was a little hard to get to her little village. And a young couple got to her and had her do a little tattoo on each of them. And she was doing an old-school tattoo with this little hammer-like thing. And she was 107.”
“I'll never forget, the guy asked her what her secret was to, you know, make it to 107 and still working. She said, no stress. And that affected me. That's been a few months ago, and I started (having issues with) my blood pressure. Maybe I'm doing this wrong.”
“You know, when I opened here, I always aimed to make it 10 years. Maybe it'll be 10 years. I haven't made it yet.”
“Maybe it's time to do something different.”
“Maybe if I came back on a busy Saturday, they'd let me slice brisket with them for 30 minutes.”
Mad Jack’s Mountaintop Barbecue is listed with Future Real Estate realtor Megan Corvin. You can find out more by calling the Cloudcroft Future Real Estate office at 575-415-4039.
Cloudcroft Reader is proud to be sponsored in part by great businesses such as:
Learn about sponsorship opportunities for your business in support of the Reader. Contact us for more information at sponsorship-info@cloudcroftreader.com
Cloudcroft Reader is proud to be sponsored partly by businesses like Dusty Boots, Off the Beaten Path, Future Real Estate, Cloudcroft Therapeutic Massage, High Altitude, Be in the Mountains Yoga, Otero County Electric Cooperative, and the Peñasco Valley Telephone Cooperative.
Let our over 1,800 e-mail subscribers and over 2,400 followers on Facebook see your support of local journalism. Have your business only one click away from our readers.
We cover stories no one else does—in-depth, fairly, and timely. That’s why the Reader has quickly become the most widely read publication serving the greater Cloudcroft community.
Your donation directly supports local editors, writers, photographers, and graphic designers.
Our small village seems to have a knack for spawning big stories.
Will you support our work and keep us going strong?
Join your neighbors who support the Cloudcroft Reader. Thank you to our Cloudcroft Stars:
Rusty Roots, Nancy Slater, Lacinda & Rodger Walker, Earle Neill, Jim Goodwin, David Amidei, John Bennett, Janyce Chesnut, Rhonda Grant, Chris Milya, Carla Moore, Jackie and Larry Pryor, Dorian Ramirez, Charles Ramay, John Snook, Aileen Duc, Mike and Marty Mills, Terry and Joann Means, Susan Booth, Cheryl Kaufman in, Sara Sims, Guy Lutman, Hans Steinhoff, Herman Graffunder, Carol Stanfill, Kirk Cooper, Ann Davis, Steven G Henry, Sonnie Hill, Jean Ramsey, John Sarrels, Charlene Basham, Patti Howell, Waitt Family, Mario Romero, Craig and Dru Chapman, Hilda Gerardo Acuna, Jann Hunter, Don Stowe, Amy Parker-Morris, Leah Ross, Sally and Prentice Blanscett, Lyn Canham, Amy Dunlap, Linda Rawson, Renee Hays, Brian Risinger, Charles Day, Mark Tatum, Sam Coats, Brian and Stephanie Collins, Dixie Rogers, Cheri Hass, Laurel & John Walters/Cronin, David and Anne Marie Larsen, DONA Sennett, Summit Supply, Amy Felix, Barbara Pugh, Justin Damron, Dana Dunlap, Dennis Magill, Rod & Barbara Slaton, Diana Lehr, Lyn Canham, George Marshall, Rand Carlson, Andrea Ohare, Diana Lehr, Diane McMahon, Bob & Donna Shepherd, Glena Muncrief, Shelby Manford, Deborah Cole, Mike and Stacey Hyman, Linda Hamilton, Gail Overstreet, Andrew Colglazier, Julie and Eric Pearson, Terry Schul, Rand Carlson, Amy Coor, Suzannah Cox, Roberta Haecker, Barbara and Bryan Johnson, Gina Sweeny, Lynn Owen, Judith Langlois, Diane Thomas, Laryssa Alvarez, Gina Sweeney, Lynn Owen, Brian Risinger, Craig Turner, Carl Wyatt, Betty Sheker, Carie Mckinney, Rebecca Barrows, Judith Langlois, Jim & Francis Curtis, Cheri Hass, Kurt Kochendarfer, Stan and Ginger, Alexandra Carilli, Greg Switzer, J & S Blanchett, Jan Graffunder, Barbara Hoskins, Martha & Larry Dahl, Linda Meyer, Tom McLaughlin, Jessie Willett, Heidi Gibbons, Karen Highfill, Herman Graffunder, Michael Johnson, Anonymous, Cloudcroft Chamber of Commerce, Earle & Dixie Neill, Tracy Lockhart, Bill Sandusky, Sandra Barr, Pat Ray, Robert Mace, Mary Bott, Barbara Scheuter, Cynthia Buttram, Andra Sanders, Tod Taylor, Donna G Casey, Kathy Lee Alvoid, Valerie Stagaman, Nancy Penner, Gerardo Acuna, Marietta Crane, Randy Melton Electric, Michael London, Nikki Castle, Joan Nussbaum, Rachel Truex, Cheryl Puterbaugh, Mark Ferring, Lisa & Greg Spier, Kay Magill, Anne Spier, Mark Tatum, Jonathan Coker, Carl Milburn, Judy Gordinier, Glenn Edwards, Anonymous, John Sarrels, Kenna Darling
Great article about a great BBQ joint! Secretly hoping it doesn’t sell. Hope James changes his mind 😊