Survival

Williams Timber is a large company as logging businesses go in Alabama. They have a spacious modern office, several foresters and timber buyers on staff, multiple logging crews, and a whole fleet of log trucks. They are clearly a top-flight organization, not only buying and selling timber but managing and brokering timberland as well.

I meet Mr. Williams in his office in south Alabama. He operates in the same area of the state as Mr. Mac and Vernon. As with the previous two companies, I am interested in the financial health of the business.

Williams Timber appears to be much more prosperous than the former two businesses, so I ask him how things are going.

At no time during the conversation do I sense the desperation I previously encountered. But I sense no optimism, either.

Mr. Williams explains that his logging crews are operating at about 60% of their capabilities. The reason is simple: the mills that they rely on to purchase the harvested timber are full to capacity. Their "order" is reduced, and crews that need to run five to six days a week to be profitable can fill their order in four days. Revenues are down due to the reduced orders, but expenses have increased with no corresponding increase in revenues. Especially significant is fuel cost. The diesel fuel that is the lifeblood of logging is more than one dollar a gallon higher than a year ago. Consider that typical logging operation consumes 1000 gallons a week, and it's easy to see an extra thousand a week can make the difference between survival and failure.

Mr. Williams mentions that he has recently discovered a new way to make a little extra money. It is not something he is especially proud of.

The telephone call came from New York City a few weeks ago. "Do you have a truck and trailer capable of moving logging equipment?"

"Of course. We have to move our equipment all the time."

"Are you familiar with Smith Logging? My records show they operate in your area."

"Yes, I know Joe Smith."

"I want you to go pick up his all of his equipment and bring it to your location. I'll arrange to have it picked up from there. He's seven months behind on his payments."

Mr. Williams goes on to tell that the caller asked him to go at night, when no one would be there. For this service, he would be paid a nice fee.

He initially refuses. "I'm not going to pick up a man's equipment in the middle of the night. I know Joe. Our kids went to school together."

The New Yorker is adamant, but Williams finally persuades him in to allow him to talk with Smith about the situation. Three days later, Smith sends in a partial payment that forestalls the repossession.

A month goes by, and New York calls again. Williams again calls Smith. This time he is told to "come get it."

Since that time, he has picked up the equipment of three other loggers.

Williams shakes his head and sighs. I don't know what some of these ol' boys are going to do if things don't get better soon. We're all struggling to survive.

I don't have an answer either.

I just know the woods are getting a little quieter with each passing day.