J
John Strawn pulls his long, tired frame out of his SUV,
was mad that his nearby wooden plant had burned to the ground. The new
grabs a cane and walks toward the glass-and-steel
metal behemoth would never meet that fate. It was built to last. Back then
Bob White Citrus Exchange, a building that was once
there was little disease in the citrus industry and no foreign competition.
the hub of North Florida’s orange industry. Where a
Land for new groves was abundant and the national craving for oranges and
visitor sees broken windows and rusting metal pan-
grapefruit showed no signs of ebbing. Why wouldn’t Theodore Strawn think
els, Strawn’s eyes sparkle, recalling the days when
his newest operation would last forever?
the conveyor belts were whir-whir-whirring, when
glove-clad packers wrapped oranges in paper be-
re-creation of old Florida: Weathered wooden planks connect a handful of
fore boxing them up, when the fruit was brought in
smaller buildings. A four-story water tower looms over everything. A machine
by mule. An Amtrak train barrels down the nearby
shop still overflows with gears, oily rags and a thousand metal parts. Three
rail line -- the same tracks that once took boxcar
Chevron gas pumps are frozen at 49 9/10 cents a gallon.
loads of the famous Bob White oranges to Chica-
The Bob White packinghouse compound looks like a Disney World
The 1920s, ‘30s and ‘40s were kind to the Strawn family. The packing
go, New York and other northern markets -- and it breaks the spell. Strawn
house prospered. Growers gave the mule a rest and began bringing in fruit by
sees the plant as it is, graffiti, broken beer bottles littering the loading dock,
the carload. Only the very best grade of orange was given the Bob White mark,
weeds everywhere.
a name taken from the northern quail that Strawn family elders liked to hunt.
“I sure wished it looked like it did 40 years ago,” says the 81-year-old, shak-
ing his white head with a sigh. It’s a heartbreak.”
overseeing a bookkeeper and others who tended the packinghouse’s business
Though decades old, Strawn’s story is one of the tenuous fortunes of the
affairs. Starting in November every year, dozens of workers processed millions
citrus industry. A single night of deadly frost eradicated his livelihood
of pieces of fruit. The Bob White’s went up north. The second and third tiers
and that of thousands of others in northern Florida. These days there are
remained in Florida for roadside stands, markets or to feed the family’s cows.
different enemies -- disease, development and hurricanes -- but the end to
a life’s dream can still come almost as swiftly.
they were the last of the orange varieties to mature each season. The summer
break gave the Strawns time to travel, shoot bobwhites and relax while work-
In 1921, the Bob White Citrus Exchange was one of a kind, a big
John Strawn returned from college late in 1951 and went to work
Come June the Valencias would arrive, called “tardys” because
steel building with a distinctive sawtooth roofline. John Strawn’s grandfa-
ers repaired and retooled the belts and pulleys and assembled new shipping
ther, Theodore, invested heavily in the state-of-the-art packinghouse. He
boxes for the coming season. This continued through the decades -- more and
51 | ambler