In 1968, when Chicago native Judy Peres joined the staff at the Jerusalem Post, the Globe Elevator Company in Superior was still storing grain in its three large elevators. Cargo ships pulled up to its pier. There, the grain was loaded and hauled from Lake Superior to Lake Erie and points east.
By 2006, Peres was a 59-year-old award-winning writer and former national editor at the Chicago Tribune. Her daughters and grandchildren lived nearby; she had enough money to support herself comfortably and a social life that consisted of a romantic partner and a lifetime’s worth of friends.
Meanwhile, the Globe site had become an abandoned wasteland. Investors interested in developing the site focused on its waterfront location. As far as they were concerned, the elevators were an impediment, a major obstacle in their plans to build an RV park and marina.
Enter David Hozza, a Minnesota-based investment banker and Peres’ significant other. His view of the elevators? A treasure trove. Inside were approximately 6 million board feet (that’s 4 million cubits for you Leviticus fans) of white pine, a virtual old growth forest filled with antique wood.
For buyers looking to build a cabin or renovate an existing house or cabin, the otherwise unattainable wood was easily worth $2 to $7 per board foot.
While Hozza was estimating the amount of time necessary to salvage and wholesale the wood from the largest elevator, changes were occurring at the Tribune. Layoff rumors were circulating and eventually proved true. Peres was offered a buyout.
Up to that point, their long-distance relationship had developed an established pattern.
“David worked in Minneapolis. We got to spend wonderful weekends together and I had my work week to myself,” she said.
The buyout offer was a game-changer.
“Our kids were grown and we were done paying college tuition,” she said. “We could take a flier, do something different and unusual and really reach beyond our grasp.”
In 2008, Peres joined Hozza, who had already moved to Superior, and the couple sunk everything they had and then some — $1.2 million — into purchasing the land and buildings in order to avert what Peres described as “an environmental crime.
“We didn’t want to see these three monstrous things blown up and thrown into a landfill,” she said. “So we’re trying to salvage this beautiful wood.”
The couple set up two companies: Wisconsin Woodchuck, LLC, sells wholesale material to contractors and framers; and Old Globe Reclaimed Wood Company sells retail flooring and paneling. When rental equipment costs mounted, the couple bought a used crane and forklift.
Their plan: Rescue the wood, enough to make flooring and paneling for several years, and then move on. “If we can make a go of this, if we can create a brand identity and a market for reclaimed wood, there are other grain elevators out there and they all have stories,” she said.
Hozza had figured it would take them and 12 employees a year to reclaim and sell the wood from one elevator. He hadn’t figured on the logistics of removing the 4,400-pound flywheels and other heavy machinery necessary to run the elevator located atop the structure they opted to empty first.
They also had not anticipated the collapse of the real-estate market and subsequent stock-market crash. Until the 2008 stock market crash, she said, they thought they would dodge the recession bullet. But at that point, people stopped buying.
“So the timber framers who were building vacation homes were out of work, maybe half the architects in Minnesota were out of work,” she said, “and our business went into the tank.”
At that point, the company went into what Peres described as “defensive mode.” They laid off their crew and began doing everything themselves.
“We had a lot of wood on the ground in October of 2008,” Peres said. So we’ve just focused on selling what we had and have done very little takedown since then. We’re still waiting for the recession to end so we can put our people back to work.”
Peres’ adjustment to living in a small, rust-belt community has been an easy one, she said, possibly because of how busy she’s been.
“I love being on Lake Superior, the air and the water and the colors are extraordinary,” she said. She was also pleasantly surprised to discover something unexpected about small-community life — a robust barter economy.
“People trade for what they need,” she said. “It’s much more creative, and I’ve learned to be frugal for the first time in my life. I always had a salary and there was always enough to pay the bills, so I never paid attention [the way I do now].”
Not having the kind of disposable income she did as a reporter isn’t the only thing she no longer has.
“I pretty much work 24/7 and if I have a weekend off I come to Chicago to see my kids,” she said.
That hasn’t left her a lot of time to explore any kind of life — including Jewish life — in Superior, she said, although it’s something that’s on her to-do list. She did, however, manage to make one important Jewish connection.
The late Monnie Goldfine, a community leader and philanthropist, at one point owned and operated six department stores in the Superior/Duluth region and served as president of Temple Israel in Duluth before his death in 2009. He was an important mentor for Peres from the time she arrived in Duluth until his final illness.
He was very kind and welcoming and loved what we were doing,” Peres said. “He bought me ice cream and gave me good advice.”
Between Goldfine’s advice, their own knowledge and determination and the discovery of another niche market — for wrought iron — they’ve managed to hang on.
Artists are among their customers for the several hundred thousand pounds of wrought iron that held the wood in place. They also made a sale to the blacksmith shop in Colonial Williamsburg.
Things are starting to look up in the wood department as well. Their insurance agent, who also insures a lot of builders, told them he’s seeing an upturn among his clients. And Peres says they’re seeing some hopeful signs.
“We’re starting to get inquiries from contractors who are bidding on projects in which the architects have specified our wood,” she said.
And then there’s The Purple Pig, a Chicago restaurant located at 500 North Michigan Avenue, just across the street from the Tribune. The owners found a designer who had seen an Old Globe floor sample at a local distributor, and agreed that it was just the look they were after.
“So it was completely serendipitous that our first commercial flooring sale was across the street from Tribune Tower,” she said. “And my former colleagues say that the food is good, but the floor is spectacular.”
Amy Waldman is a Milwaukee-based freelance writer.
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