The Orange Flames of Florida

By Natalie Angier

Racing to save the citrus industry from a deadly canker

Like Job, the long-suffering citrus farmers of Florida have cause to wonder why they are being punished. At Christmas time last year a harsh freeze wiped out 10 million trees statewide. This spring the notorious Medfly appeared in Dade County and began devouring fruit. Now, with the wholesale price of orange juice already 27% higher than last year, the worst yet has come. Last week scientists confirmed that a deadly new strain of citrus canker, a bacterial disease that is harmless to humans but defoliates and kills trees, has swept from Ward's Nursery, a citrus farm near Avon Park, to at least four other nurseries, one as far away as Naples, 125 miles from the source.

The disaster threatens to paralyze the $1.2 billion Florida citrus business. Says Stephen Poe, a plant pathologist with the U.S. Department of Agriculture: "Of every disease that affects the citrus industry, canker is the most destructive." In a swift, ruthless effort to halt the epidemic, the state began emergency burning. It is the only reliable means of eradicating the disease. Ward's and the other four nurseries are being entirely torched; so are any seedlings recently purchased from those nurseries, along with any surrounding trees. By year's end many millions of plants will have been incinerated, leaving dozens of farmers near bankruptcy and in despair.

Consumers will feel the pinch too. More than half of the orange juice, 90% of the limes and 75% of the grapefruits used in the U.S. come from Florida. Although this year's supplies are already secured, Tropicana, one of the nation's largest juice makers, is worried about next year's harvest. Says Spokesman Tim Clarke: "We can certainly expect prices to increase even more."

Often compared with the foot-and-mouth disease that kills cattle, canker spreads quickly and easily. It clings to clothing, skin, tools and equipment and is buoyed for short distances by wind-blown rain. Florida's last bout of canker, in 1913, took more than 20 years and $6 million (the equivalent of more than $60 million today) to eradicate. Poorer regions such as Mexico and Asia, however, which cannot afford to burn groves, are frequently plagued by canker. And with an active source of infection in the world, it was only a matter of time before the blight invaded the U.S. once again.

That the latest outbreak began in Ward's Nursery seems especially tragic: the 60-acre seedling company is one of the oldest and most reputable in the state. Indeed, the unflinching character of Owner Franklyn Ward was one reason the trouble was reported so promptly. Last month Nursery Manager Charles Collins noticed brown spots surrounded by yellow rings on one seedling's leaves and then on others. State pathologists quickly identified the blemishes as canker. Where the disease came from, however, remains a mystery.

No Ward's staff member had been farther than Louisiana in 18 months. Even more baffling, the Florida Xanthomonas campestris bacterium is somewhat different from its common cousins: equipped with a vast arsenal of immunities and extra fatty acids, which give it strength, it is a particularly virulent strain.

Ward's meticulous records have helped in the containment battle. Using his notations on every seedling sold and the exact block and row from which it was taken, officials were able to track down all his customers for the past twelve months, when the sometimes dormant canker might first have appeared. So far, 46 nurseries that bought from his have been quarantined for a full year. The other nurseries found to have canker last week were also Ward's customers, and the tracing of their customers is now in progress, though officials fear that less thorough records almost certainly mean that some plants will evade detection.

Despite his help, Ward got no break on the state's scorching policy. Beginning two weeks ago, a box the size of a huge doghouse was dragged by a tractor through his fields. Butane burners inside singed each plant. Ward could not watch. Says he: "It's devastating to see charred stumps where a week ago there was green." His losses could total $1.3 million.

The other quarantined areas, even those with no sign of canker, will fare little better. In addition to having to burn any plant within 125 ft. of a seedling from the afflicted nurseries, citrus growers must defoliate the area around the burning and spray an even wider radius with expensive copper-laced pesticide.

Many farmers view the state orders as too drastic and based on too many unknowns. Roland Dilley, an owner who stands to lose a third of his 3 million-tree crop, insists that the measures "will devour 80%" of Florida's nursery industry. Says Manager Collins, who, along with 28 other employees, has been laid off from Ward's Nursery: "It's like finding out your neighbor has pneumonia and ordering the cremation of all people for five blocks around." To make matters rougher, neither the state nor the Federal Government is likely to compensate the farmers, nor does any insurance cover such losses. As testing and retesting continue, bad news is possible every day. For at least a year, Florida's farmers, a stoic, resilient group, will worry and wonder whether too much or too little has been done.

--By Natalie Angier. Reported by Joseph McQuay/Miami

With reporting by Joseph McQuay/Miami