Betting the Farm

Betting the Farm

government watch by Jean Gruss | Editor/Lee-Collier

How can government take land without paying for it? A successful farming family in Lee County is about to find out on July 1.

One would be hard-pressed to find a better steward of the land than the Troyer family.

Mennonites from Pennsylvania, the Troyers have managed to grow the most unlikely crop in Southwest Florida's harsh tropical weather: potatoes. But their profitable farm lies smack in the middle of an area that's coming under close scrutiny by environmentalists and new residents seeking a rural lifestyle.

Unbeknownst to the Troyers when they bought their 1,850-acre farm in Lee County in 1989, their land sits on one of the richest veins of limestone rock in the state. The rock is an essential ingredient for construction, but it's only found in a handful of areas such as Lee.

By some estimates, there could be as much as $10 billion of limestone rock under an 83,000-acre area that includes the Troyer farm. Now, a small group of about 400 residents who moved into that area are demanding a halt to mining. Environmental groups oppose development there because they say mining and agriculture threaten the county's water supply, a claim some water experts say isn't supported by scientific fact.

Already, Lee County commissioners slapped a one-year moratorium on any new mines inside the vast stretch of southeast Lee County and they're spending $1.4 million on a study by Coral Gables-based consulting firm Dover Kohl to figure out whether it can create a plan for the hodge-podge of land uses in that area. A report by the firm is due July 1.

Now, there is a growing concern that Dover Kohl will recommend a plan that restricts mining to a small area near Southwest Florida International Airport. If commissioners agree, they will take away the Troyers' and other landowners' rights to mine in the future. In addition, there's talk of increased regulations on agricultural uses, adding to the already rising costs of farming such as fuel.

What it boils down to is this: Landowners in southeast Lee County may have their property rights taken away without compensation. "They regulate to get what they want," says Don Troyer, who owns the farm with brothers Vern and David.

Lucrative spuds

The Troyers have no intention of mining in the near future. Fact is, potato farming in Florida is a lucrative business and the family has invested their life savings in building the farm. They still have land in Pennsylvania, where they grow seed potatoes that they plant in Florida.

The Troyer farm is a technological wonder of modern farming that is so efficient they can produce and ship 50 million pounds of spuds per season with just 125 employees. That's equal to 1,000 tractor-trailer loads.

Aaron Troyer, 30, is the whiz kid behind this marvel of productivity. Armed with twin masters degrees in agricultural economics and agribusiness, combined with a fascination with computer technology, Troyer created a system of weather stations that measures rainfall and controls water flow using pumps and ponds on their farm. He can manage all this remotely with a personal computer.

The Troyers also invested in a $500,000 optical scanner that sorts potatoes at the rate of 100,000 pounds per hour. The machine is so efficient that it replaces the work of 25 employees, a huge savings of labor expense.

The Florida potato-growing business is counter-cyclical. While most of the country's potato farms lay idle in winter months, the Troyers and other potato farmers harvest theirs with little competition from February through April. The result is that Florida potato farmers get double the price for their crop than their northern and western counterparts.

Don Troyer won't reveal the farm's profit margins or revenues, but he says the high prices retailers and wholesaler pay for potatoes outweighs the higher expenses for fertilizer and fungicide. Because of Florida's wet environment, farmers use much more of those chemicals to keep their crop healthy and safe.

But starting the business was far from easy. The Troyers had been farming potatoes for years in Pennsylvania when they started their Florida operation in the late 1980s on what Don Troyer calls "a wing and prayer." They spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to clear their farm of scrub, hoping for good crops those first years. "We agonized and paid for it," says Troyer.

Government taking

The Troyers have already had a taste of government taking their rights in the form of increased regulation. In 1991, the county decided to reduce the number of homes per acre on the 83,000-acre tract. Previously, the county had allowed one home per acre in that area. It's now a maximum of one home per 10 acres.

Despite the fact that Lee County had essentially taken value from the land for residential development, the Troyers and other landowners didn't protest. "We're potato farmers," Don Troyer shrugs. Besides, they were struggling to make their farm profitable and didn't have the financial resources to fight the county.

But it's a different story now. The Troyers and other landowners in southeast Lee County are worried the county will split up the 83,000 acres, allowing some landowners and not others to mine, farm or build homes. Commissioners may even ban any human activity in the name of environmental preservation. "You logically cannot divide this up," says Don Troyer. "It's a huge contentious thing."

Troyer has a simple solution for the county if government's aim is to prevent future development: "They should buy the whole 83,000 acres." But that's not likely to happen given the county's shaky finances from the real estate downturn. So many millions of dollars in valuable limestone rock are at stake that lawsuits may be unavoidable.

Still, the prospect of litigation doesn't thrill landowners who witnessed activist judges taking away miner's rights in the Lake Belt region, another valuable limestone-rock vein in Miami-Dade County. That action doubled the cost of limestone rock in Florida and prompted an unsuccessful attempt by state legislators to take away counties' rights to decide where and whether to allow mining.

In the meantime, landowners are waiting for Dover Kohl's July 1 report, which will recommend to county commissioners how to divvy up the 83,000 acres. Lee County commissioners will meet to discuss the recommendations in early August. Their mining moratorium expires Sept. 10.

What is the DRGR?

It's an acronym any bureaucrat would love: the Density Reduction Groundwater Resource area (DRGR).

In the late 1980s, Lee County set aside 83,000 acres in the southeast portion of the county to comply with the state's planning requirements. At the time, this area was remote from the population centers of Fort Myers, Bonita Springs and Naples.

The state required counties to set the land aside for water conservation among other things. Because of its remote location, the DRGR was created even though there was scant scientific evidence that it was an essential source of water.

A number of uses have been allowed in the DRGR for decades without any evidence that the county's water needs were in peril. This included mining and agriculture. Mining, farming and cattle grazing takes place on over half the land. Over the years, the county has purchased more than one-third of the land and set it aside for conservation and to dig wells from which to pump fresh water for fast-growing municipalities.

As the county grew, people moved into the DRGR seeking a rural lifestyle despite the existence of mines. Now, those same people are banging on commissioners' doors to keep more miners out. Environmentalists have joined this small but vocal bunch with their own agenda.

As a result, the Lee County commission imposed a one-year moratorium on new mines last year and created an advisory committee that's made up of residents, environmentalists and landowners. They paid $1.4 million to consultants Dover Kohl to come up with a plan for the area that's due July 1.

REVIEW SUMMARY

Company. Troyer Brothers Florida

Industry. Agriculture

Key. Successful farmers in Lee County are under threat from government regulation.