When Rayonier cranked up in
1954 on the bluff of the Altamaha River, there were no cell phones or social
media. Still, first-time passersby found a way to register their complaints. I
ought to know. My mother was the pulp mill’s original switchboard operator. Few
days went by that someone didn’t call to ask, “What is that awful stink?”
In her genteel way, Margie—ever
the diplomat—was the shock absorber for her employer. But hometown folks would
argue: “What stink? It smells like bacon and eggs to me.” No doubt,
Rayonier’s payroll over the decades has helped thousands of families prosper.
And that doesn’t count the taxes paid, the ancillary jobs created and the
philanthropy.
In the early 1950s, the street
talk was that the mill was going up river to Lumber City. Instead, Wayne County
leaders wooed Rayonier to here. Our community had three key necessities:
plentiful supplies of water, wood and cheap labor. The rest is history.
That was then.
This is now. Companies and
citizens are better informed. Today, the environment is a hot-button issue.
Rayonier is more sensitive than ever to its critics.
For decades the mill’s practices
were accepted as “that’s just the way it is.” Stuff—polluting stuff—was dumped
into the river. Employees drove “mill cars” to work, cars that were dusted by
corrosive “snow” falling from the stacks. Mother’s was a rusty, ragtag Ford.
Again, you didn’t hear much
grumbling. I certainly didn’t complain. As a summer college-kid employee, I was
making $2.725 an hour in the finishing room, lime kiln or bleach plant. I’d
never seen that much money—ever. Rayonier paychecks bought my first car.
Fifty years later, my wife is still wearing the diamond paid for with mill
money. Mother helped send her three children to college. Thanks to the mill,
there wasn’t a dime of student-loan debt. I will always be grateful to
Rayonier.
Now, welcome to 2019.
Remember the “this is not your
father’s Oldsmobile” campaign? Well, Rayonier’s attitude and management
practices are not your 1954 pulp mill. Clay Bethea, mill manager, explains
Rayonier can do nothing about the past. The company’s focus is on today and
the tomorrows.
A couple of days before
Thanksgiving, I walked through the same gate as I did in 1967, 1968 and 1969.
As I listened to Clay and two of his associates, it was clear: They want the
mill to be a good business, a good corporate citizen and a good steward of the
environment. Our community needs for those three objectives to be achieved.
For 37 years, I’ve been a
downstream neighbor of Rayonier. Years ago, we had foam and smelly water sweep
through our swamp. I’ve been to the outflow pipe and witnessed dark liquid
spill into the river. I’ve seen the aerial photos of the inky-looking ribbon
running down the middle of the stream.
And, yes, I’ve listened to the
rumors—true and false—launched at Rayonier. I’ve also seen a significant change
in the right direction for safer air and water. This is a new era. I am
confident Rayonier cares, really cares.
Clay and his team’s passion is an
extension of Rayonier’s more than $72 million—and growing—investment in
improvements. He concedes there is still more progress to be made. Clay
believes being environmentally friendly is also good for business.
Furthermore, future generations
deserve us to be responsible protectors of our natural resources. For too many
years, America’s streams were glorified industrial drainage ditches.
As the saying goes, “Rome wasn’t
built in a day.” And Rayonier’s environmental enhancements won’t be
accomplished overnight. You and I will be watching, closely, very
closely. In the meantime, I have faith in what has been fulfilled and
especially what lies ahead.
I applaud Rayonier’s new-era
efforts.
Oh, and what would I like for
supper Friday night?
An Altamaha delicacy—white
perch—caught downstream from the mill.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
