In one corner of the Sailor’s Wharf Boatyard, the former
mayor of Sussex,
N.J., stands on the deck of the Mary O, sanding paint off the cabin’s worn
fiberglass. The chips dot the arms of the man who once intended to become a
lawyer, owned a chimney-sweep business and ran a city.
Like the rest of the workers at Sailor’s Wharf, George
Steffener gave it all up to repair other people’s boats.
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This is where they landed after the pressures of their old
lives began to wear on them. When middling pay and the relentless Florida
sun seemed like worthwhile sacrifices if they could just toil among the boats,
next to the water.
There are fewer of them, and fewer places for them to go,
than ever before.
The boatyard business is dwindling in St.
Petersburg. When Jopie Helsen opened Sailor’s Wharf in
1978, it was just one of many yards in the marine district along Tampa
Bay. But in the last seven years,
Helsen said, 50 percent of the yards in Florida
have gone out of business. The yards that remain struggle to find skilled
workers. And though Sailor’s Wharf is still afloat, Helsen said it was only a
matter of time before property taxes and condominium developers forced him to
sell it off.
“If we decide to throw in the towel and call it quits, it
won’t be because we don’t know how to run a business,” Helsen said. “It’s
because the government has elected to say that it’s more valuable to them to
have condominiums here than it is to have public access to the waterfront.”
The workers here know their plight, but they still trickle
in from all walks of life. At one end of the yard, a short-order cook cleans
the bottom of the China Doll, a 37-foot cutter. At the other end, a former
computer graphics designer hooks radar up to a new Beneteau yacht.
Steffener, the former mayor, left politics for the shore 15
years ago. He learned on the job to shape and repair fiberglass. He has gone
from one boatyard to the next ever since, rarely staying for more than a year
or two. Sometimes, the property taxes forced the yards to close. Other times,
he was just ready to move on.
That’s the nature of boatyard workers, who tend to migrate
within the industry. They work as they need to, moving from shop to shop.
Now, the 58-year-old Steffener looks nothing like a
politician. His loose skin is tanned into leather from a decade and a half of
working in the sun. A protective mask dangles over a scraggly goatee dotted
with gray.
His upper teeth poke out of an easy grin. He may be rumpled,
but he likes it here.
“Never run for something, because you might just win,”
Steffener said with a laugh. “At the end of my mayor term, I’d just gotten
divorced, and I just wanted to come down to warmer climes and work on boats.”
Sailor’s Wharf is known for the quality of its workers.
Boats come from all over the region for service. After Hurricane Katrina, the
yard was swamped with boats from as far away as Louisiana.
The workers are finally finishing up the last one.
While the Wharf has prospered, the land it sits on has appreciated
considerably -- and that’s the problem, Helsen said.
Pam Dubov, the chief deputy property appraiser for Pinellas
County, said state law required her
to assess property values based on the best possible use for the land. So, as
valuable waterfront property, Sailor’s Wharf is appraised as if it were a bank
of towering condominiums.
Florida
law protects farmers and homeowners from tax jumps, but not small businesses,
Dubov said. Last year, Helsen paid $16,500 in taxes, according to the Pinellas
County Assessor’s Office. The tax increases forced him to raise prices. As
repairs get more expensive, he said, the average Joe abandons casual boating.
Eventually, nobody will pay and he will have to sell. The workers will be out
of jobs.
Dubov didn’t dispute
Helsen’s predictions, but said her hands were tied.
“I don’t even disagree with what he is saying,” Dubov said.
“But Florida law has to change.”
While the yard is in trouble, working there is still a low-pressure
job. The 1959 folk song “Cool Water” by the Sons of the Pioneers blares from a radio in the garage. Occasional power sanding drowns out the
music. The workers never seem in a great hurry.
The employees are gregarious and friendly. A skilled worker
makes $15 to $20 per hour, while unskilled laborers make $10 to $15. The
homeowners in the group face property tax issues themselves.
And then there’s the constant sun.
In the summer, the workers come in at 7 to avoid as much of
the heat as possible, but it still takes its toll. On a recent day, Bryan Gray,
the 44-year-old former cook, looked like part of a hazardous materials clean-up
crew in a full body suit and mask as he blasted barnacles from the bottom of
the China Doll. By mid July, he said, he’ll risk the shards and fumes rather
than bake in the suit.
The heat and labor have worn down the ranks of boatyard
workers. They are getting older and fewer, and young people are no longer drawn
to work on the water. The new, technologically advanced yachts require more
than woodworking skills. Even if Sailor’s Wharf closes, its workers will have
no trouble finding jobs. The yards that are left never have enough skilled
labor, service manager Michael Robertson said.
“We’re our own worst enemy sometimes,” Robertson said. “You
hire, hire, hire for the good times, and then fire, fire, fire when the market
goes bad. You have young people trying to make a living at this, and start a
family, and there’s no stability. You lose good people that way.”
As closing time nears, and the sun is at its hottest, the
workers dwindle. A couple of employees drip sweat as they examine the hulks,
but most of the day’s remaining work is indoors.
Boats sit propped up alone
on giant stands, looking like massive whales stuffed and mounted.
From the outside, Sailor’s Wharf already looks barren.
