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HARVEST TIME: An oyster picker heaves acluster (designated by white box) into his

Carolina Skiff. RIGHT: Andy Kidd presentsa fresh “single select.”

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B Y R I G E L C R O C K E T T

P H O T O G R A P H Y B Y K I R T W I T T E

“THE PAPERWORK put the old folks out; the hard workput the new folks out,” said Larry Toomer at the beginning ofa 16-hour day, explaining why the Bluffton Oyster Company,which he runs with his wife, Tina, is still around when everyother local operation has folded.

“I can deal with regulations, and I’m not afraid of workinghard. I’ve also known the local oyster workers all my life, sothey’re like family. I know how to work with them.”

Larry Toomer, 45, is a third-generation oysterman from atenacious family. His granddad, Simpson Toomer, labored foroyster tycoon Ralph Maggioni on Daufuskie Island for fiveyears in the early 1910s before squaring off against the giantwith his own competing oyster operation. AlthoughMaggioni’s three corporations controlled most of the beds,Simpson succeeded, serving markets as far away as Englandwith his canned product.

Three of Simpson’s four sons carried on his oyster opera-tion until rising labor costs drove them out of business.Young Larry spent his first 25 years immersed in all stages ofoyster production: picking the riverbanks, working the shuck-ing houses, wholesaling, retailing, catering and protecting theresource.

Larry would be the first to admit that his Bluffton OysterCompany owes much to the group of African-American oys-ter workers who rescued it from closing in 1969 and namedit the Bluffton Oyster Co-Op. They did it to protect their jobswhen the previous owner died and his children no longerwanted to run it.

CompanyOyster

The Lifeof an

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When their Co-Op went bankrupt in 1982,local businessman Jerry Reeves and his partnersbought it to preserve the important local industryand hoped to make it profitable. Renamed theBluffton Oyster Company, the organization didn’tturn a profit until Reeves hired Larry Toomer in1993. The following year was its first in the blackafter decades of debt. Reeves soon cashed outby selling the facility and its associated land tothe state, which in turn leased it to Toomer.

Standing on the company dock, I watchedformer Co-Op member Andy Kidd pilot hisCarolina Skiff alongside with a load of oysters.When he’d tied up, I asked him if I could try one.

Kidd pulled off one of the rubber gloves thatprotect his hands from the sharp clusters hepicks. He felt around in his mud-stained pocketsand produced a rugged pocket knife. Holdingthe knife by the blade, he smacked its cheeksagainst the thin, round bill of a big “single select”oyster that he held in his left hand. When he’dchipped the bill, Kidd slipped his blade inside

and ran it along the oyster’s one flat shell until heslit the strong adductor muscle that holds itclosed.

As he pried the top off, he held the cuppedshell steady so as not to spill the briny liquor thathelps give May River oysters their prized flavor.He cut free the meat, which was blue veined andas succulent as it could be, filled with a winter’sworth of glycerin stored for the important workof reproduction, come May. Kidd handed thecupped shell to me, and I tipped it back. It wassalty-sweet, clean and almost buttery, with atexture so delicate I felt I was biting a stack offlower petals.

The Bluffton oyster is of the same species asany of the celebrated East Coast brands, such asthe Blue Point or the Gulf oyster. They’re allAmerican oysters, crassostrea virginica, and theirparticular qualities are determined by one thingonly: environment.

Bluffton oysters grow on the May River, whichhas a soft mud bottom. To gain distance from thesuffocating mud and silt, May River oysters formtheir characteristic oblong shells, and further ele-vate themselves by growing in clusters. The MayRiver’s 8- to 10-foot tides, which are among thelargest in the world, move vast amounts of cleanocean water over its banks. This dramatic waterexchange prevents heavy rains from diminishingthe river’s salinity, as happens in the Chesapeakeand Apalachicola bays, and perhaps more impor-tantly, it prevents pollutants from accumulatingnear the delicate filter feeders.

This is not to say pollution is a problem forthe May River. It has only one commercial facility:the Bluffton Oyster Company.

This company offers one more thing to locals,apart from the distinctive wild and briny flavor ofits product: unparalleled freshness. In the time ittakes to ship an oyster from the Pacific Coast,Nova Scotia, Long Island, the Chesapeake, theGulf or even Florida, the oyster has started toconsume its own sugars in a fight to stay alive.

“Best oyster in the world,” Kidd said as Ithrew the empty shell in the water. “You neverget tired of eating that oyster. I could eat them24/7.”

“How long have you been picking oysters?” Iasked.

“Thirty-eight years. I’ve been picking oysterssince I was twelve.”

I did the math and figured he was 50, but helooked 10 years younger. The oyster-picking

h e a r t y o y s t e r s t e w

2 pints small, fresh Bluffton oysters2 cups potatoes, peeled and 1/4-inch diced1/2 cup Vidalia or Spanish onion, peeled and 1/4-inch diced1/2 cup leek, cut in half, washed well and sliced1/4 cup white celery, tiny inner stalks minced1 teaspoon garlic, peeled and minced2 bay leaves2 tablespoons butter1 cup water1 cup chicken broth2 cups broth; the strained liquid from the oysters,

plus chicken broth1/2 cup French vermouth or dry white drinking wine1 cup half-and-half cream1 teaspoon hot pepper saucesalt to taste2 tablespoons fresh chives, minced

In a large soup pot over medium heat, add the potato, onion, leek,celery, garlic, bay leaves, butter, water and 1 cup broth. Cover andgently simmer about 10 minutes to combine the flavors. Do notbrown; lower the heat if necessary. Add the second broth and wine.Continue simmering another 15 minutes until the potatoes are verysoft. Remove the bay leaves. Add the cream and hot pepper sauce.

In a separate medium saucepan, heat the oysters just until theedges curl. Stir the oysters and accumulated juices into the stew.Sprinkle with chives and stir.

– from Elizabeth on 37th

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lifestyle enticed me. It was a crisp, sunny morn-ing and the oystermen were done for the day,their skiffs each filled with about $200 worth.

Independent contractors rather than employ-ees, the pickers are free to come and go with thetide. But I’d been told what it was like for themin the high-demand months of October,November and December, when it feels good tostand around an oyster roast’s bonfire or to carvea turkey stuffed with corn bread and oysters. Thattime of year, the pickers face biting wind that fun-nels down the banks. Bent over for hours at atime, they slog through mud that wants to haulthem under, swinging heavy culling hammers tobreak single selects, doubles or compact clustersfrom the dead shells that support them.

Out there, alone on the cold water, the oyster-men face danger like all commercial fishermen do.

Flipping through a scrapbook of news clip-pings on the Oyster Company, I learned about thetragic drowning of Tyrone Smith, who fell fromhis boat while bringing in a load of oysters. Hiscumbersome hip waders, necessary for negotiatingthe muddy banks, filled with water and held himunder. Smith was the last oysterman on the riverto use one of the traditional wooden bateaux,known for their practical, cross-planked flatbottoms, their high-capacity wide beams, andtheir long, slender, water-slicing bows.

While these bateaux were immortalized in JackLeigh’s, “Oystering: A Way of Life,” they’re gone

from our rivers. Since the mid-’80s, oystermenhave preferred the stable, unsinkable, barge-shaped Carolina Skiffs. But Tyrone Smith wasnostalgic about his bateau, just as he was abouthis way of life.

In an interview for the Carolina MorningNews, Smith had said, “When I first started work-ing with my grandfather, it was kind of scary. Youfeel like you’re abandoned out there. That’s whatit feels like to a person on his first time. I ratherlike it now.”

BOUNTY: Emptyoyster shells litter

the banks of theBluffton Oyster

Company wharf.LOOKING FOR

MORSELS: Vulturesscavenge on a pile

of shell that willlater be dispersed

on the riverbank toserve as a founda-tion, or cultch, for

the next generationof oysters.

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The Toomers constructed a memo-rial entrance to the Oyster Companyand called it Tyrone’s Porch. Otherclues, letters to the editor and state-ments to the press, showed howSmith’s death had devastatedBluffton’s oystering community. Itwas all the harder because he wasyoung, because he relished the spiritualaspects of his work, and because therearen’t a lot of young men interested inpicking oysters these days.

But it’s the shucking, rather thanthe picking, that is most threatened.One of Savannah’s fish merchants,Charlie Russo, calls raw oyster shuck-ing a dying art. A good shucker canfill an astounding eight or nine gallonsa day in April, at the end of the sea-son when the oysters are fat, andthree gallons in September, at thebeginning when the oysters are thinand spent from their summer’s repro-duction.

Government regulations havemade the work harder still, requiringshucking rooms to be kept cold.Standing all day on a sloping cementfloor, the workers use small space

heaters to warm their feet as theyopen the cold, sharp shells.

It’s a service that Bluffton’s loyalmarket appreciates as they keepdemand as high as the May River cansustain. Indeed, the most likely com-plaint about the Bluffton oyster fromrestaurants and retailers is not aboutits higher price, but that it can be dif-ficult to get during the busy periods ofThanksgiving and New Year’s.

Acclaimed restaurant Elizabeth on37th is so loyal to the Bluffton oysterthat they’ve offered it prepared in noless than 12 different styles.

It’s a loyalty that Larry Toomerintends to keep. He holds his pricessteady when demand goes up, and hedoesn’t sell to northern restaurateursin search of culinary novelty, whichwould stress the oyster populationand drive the price up for locals. Itshows a respect for a unique andfragile resource that’s as important forthe survival of our estuary as it is for asmall, family-run oyster company thatstands on a hundred years’ worth ofshells, nine miles up the pristine MayRiver. n

LEASING THE LAND: Larry and Tina Toomeroperate the Bluffton Oyster Company.

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