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RECOVERING LOST TREASURES
In the mid-1880s, Adlee Bruner’s great-great uncle packed his few
possessions and walked from north Alabama to Point Washington in Walton County, Florida.
There he went to work at a large sawmill near the Choctawhatchee River.
A century later, the 38-year-old Bruner follows in that family tradition
as the owner of Riverbend Lumber Company, also located on the banks of the Choctawhatchee
River. The Riverbend Lumber Company specializes in the recovery and milling of deadheads,
the cypress and heart pine logs that sank to the bottom of Florida rivers in the final
years of the 19th century and into the early decades of the 20th century.
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Cover Story
by jacquelyn horkan, editor
RECOVERING LOST TREASURES
In the mid-1880s, Adlee Bruner’s great-great uncle packed his few possessions and
walked from north Alabama to Point Washington in Walton County, Florida. There he went to
work at a large sawmill near the Choctawhatchee River.
A century later, the 38-year-old Bruner follows in that family tradition as the owner
of Riverbend Lumber Company, also located on the banks of the Choctawhatchee River. The
Riverbend Lumber Company specializes in the recovery and milling of deadheads, the cypress
and heart pine logs that sank to the bottom of Florida rivers in the final years of the
19th century and into the early decades of the 20th century.
Timber fueled Florida’s economy in the early years of statehood. The state’s
virgin forests were home to enormous trees that yielded high-quality woods, the likes of
which can’t be found today. The deadhead logs are the remnants of those forests.
In one of his final acts as governor, Lawton Chiles presided over a Dec. 10, 1998,
meeting where the Cabinet gave its approval to a process for recovering deadheads from
Florida’s rivers.
Bruner estimates that up to 300,000 board feet of high-grade lumber rests at the bottom
of the Blackwater and Yellow rivers alone. Retailed at $4.50 to $8.00 per board foot, the
deadheads are bringing sawmills along north Florida’s rivers to life with the promise
of much-needed jobs and prosperity.
Building on a Swamp
When Florida was accepted into the Union in 1845, the federal government surveyed the
entire state and classified almost 20 million of Florida’s 34 million acres as
"swamp and overflowed lands." The federal government transferred ownership of
those 20 million acres to the state of Florida. They were lands considered unproductive
until someone went to the considerable expense to drain them.
Soon, Florida’s government began selling the property to a few Northern industrial
magnates and the small number of settlers who chose to make Florida their home. If you own
any piece of Florida property there’s a good chance you can trace the chain of title
back to those 19th century transactions since they involved more than half the land in the
state.
The sale of the land gave the fledgling state a tax base to provide for the health,
safety, and welfare of its citizens. That tax base was narrow, however, because about the
only thing undeveloped, under-populated, non-industrial Florida had to offer was its
timber, but thankfully there was a plenty of that. Florida’s economy remained heavily
dependent on timber well into the early 1900s when, according to a U.S. Department of
Agriculture report, over 6 billion board feet of lumber was sold each year.
In short, wood was to Florida what gold was to California. Florida’s lumber fed
the industrial revolution in the northeastern United States, the Caribbean, and much of
Europe. The virgin forests were harvested into logs that were then chained together in
rafts and floated downriver to mills where they were prepared for shipment around the
globe.
Along the way, however, log jams and saturation of the wood sank some of the timber in
almost every river in the northern part of Florida, from Pensacola to Jacksonville. The
Florida Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) estimates that as much as 10 percent
of the lumber was lost on the way to a mill. Those logs can still be found in the
riverbeds, in mint condition and of superior quality.
Cypress, with natural characteristics that prevent rotting, and pine heartwood, equally
resistant to decay, are now in great demand from the home-building industry.
The durability of heart pine is unquestioned. Floors, beams, and other products made
from this wood are still in use more than 100 years after being installed. Much of it is
recycled from old structures to build new homes. The supply in old buildings isn’t
enough to meet the demand, however; that scarcity fuels the race to recover deadhead logs.
The wood in the deadheads is clear, meaning knots and defects are absent. Some boards
measure up to 12 inches wide. Once milled for use they command a price of up to $8 per
board foot (one board foot equals the volume of one inch by 12 inches by 12 inches of
wood).
The value of the wood lies mainly in its size, stability, and the beauty of its grain.
Some logs are so large they can be milled into single boards, four inches thick, four feet
wide, and up to 14 feet in length. How rare is that? Take a look at the hardwood floors
now being installed in new homes--the boards are in the two to three-inch category. Today,
the only way to get a single piece of wood the size of one of those deadheads is to glue
veneer on top of plywood.
Timber of this size and grade is unavailable because there are no virgin or old growth
forests remaining in Florida. Most of the United States was timbered during a 50-year
period beginning around 1880. One Florida company, the Putnam Lumber Company, harvested
over 350,000 acres in a 20-year period. The Florida Department of Agriculture estimates
that, because of reforesting, Florida is now on its fourth-generation forest. Modern
corporate and private landowners typically place their timber holdings in rotations of 25
to 50 years, depending on the type of product they market from the wood. The deadheads
found in the rivers are aged anywhere from 100 to as much as 2,500 years old.
Back in Business
The Bruner family recovered deadheads from riverbeds for years until the practice was
declared illegal in 1974 because of concerns that it would disrupt fish habitats. With a
booming economy, demand for high-quality wood convinced Bruner to embark on a fight to
regain permission to recover the logs.
Earlier this year, the environmental impact of recovering deadheads was studied by the
Florida Game and Fresh Water Fish Commission, as well as other environmental regulators
and experts. They discovered the logs contributed little, if any, environmental benefit to
the rivers.
Attorney General Bob Butterworth, at the request of DEP, then investigated the issue of
the legality of recovering the timber. The attorney general determined that since the
river bottoms are state property, the state owns the title to unbranded logs. All branded
logs are the property of the owner of the brand. Anyone recovering a branded log must
report his find to a law enforcement officer, who then notifies the brand holder or
advertises the find for 90 days. If no one comes forward with a valid claim, the property
can be returned to the finder.
As a result of the Dec. 10 Cabinet decision, a deadheader can obtain a permit to
recover the logs
by applying for a "use agreement" with DEP.
The agreement covers a two-person recovery team and costs $5,500. Liability insurance must
also be secured.
The applicant must provide DEP with information on recovery locations and the amount of
logs recovered.
The combination of demand and technological innovation now makes it economically
feasible to recover the lost timber and take it to market. Bruner, along with a few other
North Florida entrepreneurs, have invested in the sophisticated depth finders, scuba
diving equipment, power-driven winches, and modern boats that are necessary to find the
logs and transport them to the mills.
For the past three months, Bruner has been scouring the rivers to locate deadheads. He
marks the location of each log with a Global Positioning System device, and records it in
a book so that he can return to retrieve the logs once he gets his DEP permit. "It
will keep me busy for quite a while," he says.
With modern sawmill technology the logs can be processed with little waste. In the
past, circular saws were used to cut logs into boards. The blades often measured up to
one-quarter of an inch wide, meaning that by the fourth cut a full inch of wood had been
wasted. Now, narrow band saws are available at a width of less than one-tenth of an inch.
These saws are also portable, letting the logger carry the saw to the woods to do the
initial milling.
Grateful Deadheaders
Bruner’s Riverbend Lumber Company deals in specialty wood products for the upper
end of the housing market. Bruner has several deadheads in his wood yard that were
recovered legally from private lands (no permit is needed if the log drifts onto private
property), and he is ready to begin expanding his inventory.
Bruner has already invested $50,000 in the equipment and facilities necessary to
recover, mill, and market the wood. Another $10,000 a year will supply him with the
permits and liability insurance he needs to recover the logs from state-owned lands.
His lowest-priced product is air-dried, rough cut lumber, which sells for about $3 per
board foot.
The price rises if the customer wants the wood milled, planed, or dried to other
specifications. For example, wood three-quarters of an inch thick, tongue and grooved for
flooring or paneling, and kiln dried to less than 5 percent moisture content is worth
about $4.50 per board foot.
Bruner estimates that in less than two years he will have recouped his investment and
begun to make a profit. "This business is not for just anybody." Bruner warns.
"Groping around on the bottom of a cold, dark river isn’t for the faint of
heart. But it’s fun, it’s creative, and my customers are thrilled to learn the
history behind the construction of their home."
To increase his potential inventory, Bruner has researched the laws on timber brands.
He negotiates leases with the heirs of the brand owners, and can now claim title to many
of the logs he locates.
"I pay the brand owners a flat fee," says Bruner, "around $200 per
thousand board feet. I’ve seen logs that contained as much as 1,500 board feet.
It’s a good way for them to make some easy money on something they gave up on as lost
many years ago."
William Rosasco III is another Floridian with a vested interest in recovering the logs.
His family owned one of Florida’s largest sawmills in the tiny northwest Florida town
of Bagdad at the turn of the century. Rosasco still owns title to over 250 brands that can
be found on logs in the Blackwater, Yellow, and Shoal rivers in Santa Rosa and Okaloosa
counties.
The Rosascos were among the most successful and prominent business people in the early
years of statehood. The family came to Florida from Italy in
1840. They harvested and milled their Genoa Select brand heart pine from their lands, and
exported most of it to Italy.
"Just knowing I’ve got a lot of family history on the bottoms of these
rivers," says Rosasco, "I’m elated that the business my grandfather helped
start over 100 years ago is actually still alive and well. I can’t wait to see the
first house, or library, or conference facility built with this wood." Rosasco also
notes, "Since the net ban, our coastal counties have been struggling for economic
development. This industry could put a lot of families back to work."
Samual J. Ard is an attorney and sole practitioner in Tallahassee. He worked
with Adlee Bruner and William Rosasco as a consultant in the effort to gain permission to
resume the salvaging of deadheads.
THE WOOD OF THE LAND
The year is 1898. With winter coming on, the walk through the swamp is a little more
pleasant than it was the last time Dallas Peaden made the trek. Just under a year ago, he
had swatted at mosquitoes until both arms were tired and swollen from bites.
Deep into the heart of his 5,000-acre tract on the Yellow River in north Santa Rosa
County, he finally comes to the object of his search: a bald cypress tree over 150 feet
tall and so large at the base that he can see neither head nor tail of his horse when it
stands on the other side of the tree. Almost a year ago, he and his farm-hand had chopped
a ring around its girth causing the sap to drain slowly from the branches and trunk. Now
the massive tree, over 2,000 years old, is dead.
Durell Peaden Jr., Dallas Peaden’s great-great grandson, still lives near the
ancestral home in the district he serves as a member of the Florida Legislature. Living so
close to his roots connects him to the legacy of his family history.
"It’s one thing to explain to my children the times and trials of their
relatives in the 1800s," says Peaden. "It’s quite another to show them a
log with the Peaden brand stamped into the bottom. It’s a tangible piece of history
we can get our hands on."
Peaden’s great-great grandfather supported his family by farming, by extracting
turpentine from the piney woods, and by harvesting the timber of his forests. As a pioneer
in an unsettled wilderness, the elder Peaden scratched out a living from the bounty of the
land.
"I look back at my grandfather, the life he lived, the work he had to do to earn a
dollar, and I am totally amazed he made it," says Peaden. "He was one of a small
group of people responsible for the entire economy of northwest Florida. There was no
tourism economy, no manufacturing tax base, and no system of transportation except for the
rivers."
There were also none of the mechanical marvels of the modern age to ease the work. Two
men would need a full day to cut down that 2,000- year-old bald cypress. Once felled, they
would trim away the limbs and cut the tree into 14-foot lengths.
Peaden would then stamp his brand (the letters "DP") into the butt end of
each log. His oxen would drag the huge logs through the swamp to the banks of the river.
The logs had to be dragged to the river because, unlike the Pacific Northwest where
loggers built miles of wooden flumes to carry the logs to the rivers, the terrain of the
Florida panhandle was flat.
More than one hundred other cypress and longleaf pine trees, would be chained together
to form a raft. Cypress was buoyant but the longleaf pines needed help to stay afloat.
Adding some bay trees into the mix when constructing of the raft would keep it from
sinking. Then the loggers waited for a good flood to raise the raft and send it on its way
downstream.
When the floods came, the raft headed for its final destination, the Rosasco mill at
Bay Point, south of Milton, Florida. Not every log would complete the journey; some would
sink along the way. Peaden’s loggers would be paid 7 cents per board foot for each
log that did make it to the mill. Peaden would get 25 cents per board foot, enough to keep
his wife Mary and their three children fed, clothed, and safe in a warm, com-fortable home
until the next timber harvest.
Jan/Feb 1998 -- Florida Business Insight, PO Box 784, Tallahassee, Fla. 32302
(850)224-7173, insight@aif.com
