Statement by Peter Vujnovich, Jr., President of Plaquemines Oyster Association, regarding impacts of Gulf of Mexico oil disaster
July 2010
Most Croatian-American families in southern Louisiana have been here about one hundred years, since the early 1900s. They were fleeing deep poverty in Croatia at that time. They were able to start oyster fishing because it was dirty, difficult work that no one else wanted. We still have a tight cultural community. Many of us go back and spend several months a year in Croatia, although I don’t.
I’m based in Port Sulphur. My business is very small, just me and one or two employees on the boat. It’s very family-oriented. My sons and nephews who are old enough help out in the summers when they are out of school. Before Katrina, my parents owned and operated Captain Pete’s Oyster House, a retail operation in New Orleans, for 53 years. But due to the down economy after Katrina and their increasing age, we had to sell the business. I don’t encourage my sons and nephews to be in the industry because it’s so uncertain and difficult. We’re not holding onto our traditions with this next generation, but the opportunity is there for them if they choose.
The oyster beds that I lease are now 100% closed, and have been since May 23. They’re located in BaratariaBay, which has taken one of the hardest hits from the oil. Because we’re completely shut down, we’ve lost the companies that we sold to. That will make it harder to bounce back once we start fishing again.
I had the chance to get into BP’s Vessel of Opportunity (VOO) program at the beginning, but I wanted to keep fishing since I wasn’t shut down right away. I also wanted to let others who couldn’t fish participate in the program, since they had no other income. It may still be possible for me to participate, but it’s not an open door like it was at the beginning; I can’t just jump in, and many boats that have qualified for the program are not being used.
A month ago, I wouldn’t have said all this because I was hopeful that I would be able to get back to work quickly. I never thought the situation would balloon to this. I’m now facing total uncertainty. I’ve had to adapt and change to a completely new reality.
The one certainty that I’ve always observed is that wherever there is oil drilling, there is a decline in the quality and production of nearby oyster beds. There are oilfields in our estuary, and even in what is otherwise prime habitat, the activity around the rigs and occasional small spills cause decreased productivity. Once you’re about a mile from the oilfield, quality and production are back to normal.
Of course we want to start fishing again, but as a food provider, I don’t want to threaten our tradition of quality. I think of it like a fly landing in a bowl of soup. When that happens, I wouldn’t just scoop out the soup around the fly; I’d throw the whole bowl out rather than serve it. At this point, I wouldn’t fish an oyster for six months; we have to give them time to purge the oil. And I don’t know where the dispersants are going to end up and how long they will take to get out of the system.
People don’t realize this, but fishermen have always been involved in helping to protect the environment. The oyster industry was the foundation for the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries. It was first formed as an oyster commission, and then grew into the Department that exists today. We also support the work of the Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality.
After the first day when oil entered the bays where my oyster leases are, I had a severe sore throat. Although I understand that dispersants have only been used offshore, outside the bays, parish officials have also told me that the oil turns a red color where it has been mixed with dispersants. Both red and black oil were in the bay that day. This is a tough job, out in the weather, and fishermen usually know what to expect from it. But I’ve seen some pretty tough characters complaining of respiratory problems, people who don’t smoke. I’ve heard of skin rashes among people working the offshore area where the crude is thick. It seems that it’s like working in a landfill. Eventually you just become accustomed to the odors, so you don't realize the effects it may be having on you.
But many people I know who are working in the VOO program, I haven’t seen for weeks or even months. Some boats in Plaquemines Parish are being kept out up to 60 days without returning, so I haven’t heard much about the working conditions out there from many people in our community.
When you fish your whole life like I have, it’s part of your identity. It’s how you provide for your family, it’s the source of your freedoms and responsibilities. It’s what makes a man a businessman.
It’s a very physical job. I’m used to burning energy on the boat to the point of exhaustion. Now, with more frustration than ever, there’s no place to release that energy.
We don’t know how long we’ll be in this prison. With a hurricane, it ends quickly. You can channel and release your emotions into the rebuilding work. Here, we’re continually on pause. We’re used to dealing with a difficult environment, but it’s the mental strain that’s the hardest, maintaining the will to keep going.
That uncertainty has a broad economic impact on us and our towns too. We don’t know when we should start reinvesting. And it’s not just the businesses directly related to fishing. I used to spend thousands of dollars a month at service stations, groceries, hardware stores. Now I have no income, so I’m spending as little as possible. For the people who run the docks, this is usually the busiest time of year. Now the docks are a desert.
All fishing sectors have been hit hard, but oysters are different. Oystermen like me have vested interests and investments in specific places; oysters don’t move around like crabs, shrimp and finfish. I’ve been trying to figure out who is representing the oyster industry and our community, but as far as I can tell we’re not represented at any level – with the state, with the federal government, with BP. Where is the program that will address our recovery and redevelopment? If they’re not going to re-establish the basis of our industry, the oyster beds may eventually get clean again, but the oyster fishing community may have fallen apart.
The outlet for my energy now is setting up meetings, trying to get our community organized. We just want to survive. We’re just asking for a promise to be made whole. If you’ve offended someone, you should be generous. The foundation of the oyster industry is small leaseholders. If we want to keep Louisiana the top oyster producer in the country, we feel that the oystermen have to be protected. Our industry has to be given the respect it deserves, but it’s not.