Time with Ted

By Bramblett Bradham

TedTurner-3C

Ted Turner speaks to the press in 1985.

PHOTO BY BERNARD GOTFRYD, COURTESY OF THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

I grew up in the 70s and early 80s in Charleston. I was fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to spend quality time in the woods and upon the waters of South Carolina. Having been able to hunt on local plantations and mid-state farms and to enjoy access to the ocean, I spent a great deal of time with landowners.

When invited, we would arrive at various plantations or simple tracts of land for what would often be an overnight or weekend excursion into what would eventually become my passion. Sometimes it would involve a camping trip, others would involve visits to exclusive plantations with all the amenities one would expect, and a few others that would be unexpected. I would often be “sent away” with property managers while my father engaged in the things that relaxing adults do at such times. The managers were seasoned veterans of the wild and would show me the special things about the land, its history and many of its secrets. I grew captivated by both the complexity and the simplicity of well-managed land. It was during this part of my life that I aspired to become an expert in all things wild and historical.

In about 1978 or 1979, I was watching television one evening and saw a news report that Ted Turner, the well-known Atlanta businessman, had purchased a plantation in what is now the ACE Basin. The news report showed him driving around in a green jeep, allowing the cameraman to film footage of clouds of waterfowl moving through the air at Hope Plantation. I secretly told myself that one day I would emulate the property manager teachers I admired so much and manage a plantation with wonders like those. I secretly hoped that I could do it for Ted. Decades later, I would find myself driving the same jeep across miles of rice field dikes on the Santee Delta in Georgetown County, employed by Ted Turner, a man about whom I knew very little. 

I was impressed by the professionalism of his executives during the interviewing and vetting process, which was initially conducted in what seemed to be an “antiseptic,” corporate manner. As the hiring process progressed, a familiarity with them developed, and the initial stiffness began to fade. I learned through speaking with people in his organization that many, if not most, had been with him for years. I asked myself, “What is it about Ted Turner that creates this longevity of employment and motivates people to be this dedicated and loyal?” I was about to find out. Ted’s team made an offer, and I accepted. He had clear rules and policies. Nothing was overlooked or vague.

I realized that Ted had surrounded himself with people who cared deeply about him, his family, employees, associates and the environment. We both embraced the idea that all natural things should be protected, including the protectors. It was clear that there existed a commonality and determination among those of us on the team to commit to conservation and conduct ourselves appropriately while remaining focused on Ted’s objectives. While many conservationists expend their energy opposing those who seek to profit from nature’s demise or at its expense, we applied our energy proactively, caring for as much of the environment as possible. This mentality allowed those of us who were aware of the value of what remained of the land in its current state to halt the changes that had occurred since the colonial period, thus giving future generations the opportunity to avoid losing a heritage that might never be recovered.

I arrived at Kinloch Plantation on September 15, 2015. I first met with the staff and, after a brief introduction, began to calculate the collective level of experience we had. It turned out that among all of us, there was approximately 100 years of experience in wetlands and plantation management. This was my first realization of what Ted and his company had accomplished there. It taught me that much of his success is due to the people whom he welcomed to his world. Much of it, as well, was due to those who recognized that he was someone special who deserved the dedication of others with similar interests, be it financial, operational, or environmental. I looked at the crew of Courageous, the Atlanta Braves and CNN, and learned that I had joined a team, not just a company. I set about preparing for our first visit of my tenure, Ted Turner himself.

I picked him up at the Georgetown Airport in November and was surprised to hear him greet me by name as he was coming down the steps from his plane. As we drove to Kinloch, I was quiet at first, not knowing what to expect but was pleasantly surprised by his engaging personality and relaxed demeanor. He was eager to know how we had dealt with the “thousand -year flood” of October 2015, what the duck situation looked like and what we were going to have for dinner. Once he was settled in, he wanted to drive around the property, which was recovering from the flood. We were not able to drive on all the dikes, as many remained inundated while floodwaters were still coming down the Santee from the Upstate. Nonetheless, I could immediately see that once his jacket and tie were replaced with jeans, boots and a casual shirt, he was truly at peace, enjoying the wild even though it was in an unusual state.

His hunt the next morning was good, and there would be a duck dinner as game on Kinloch was never wasted. I learned, throughout time, that fewer birds would be taken at Kinloch than many of the nearby properties, as the hunting parties were generally small, with often only one or two people in the field on thousands of acres at a time. Ted enjoyed going out to different parts of the main tract, as there was a great variation in wetland habitats on the property. The northwest part of Kinloch was primarily freshwater, and the southeast end was far more saline. This created a diversity of species in both flora and fauna, each with different characteristics and requiring different management approaches.

Ted and I spent many hours together throughout the decade we had together. We would hunt each time he came during the season. We would warm up with sporting clays the afternoon before the hunt so that he would be well-practiced with the gun he would use. Ted was a trooper when it came to doing whatever was necessary to get to the best places. He would get in boats from a dock, switch boats on the water, climb in and out of duck blinds and wade through mud. He told me once that he didn’t care if I had to strap him on my back and carry him; he just wanted to be where the action was.

I’ve seen him leave the field with six birds having fired only seven shots. Occasionally, he would stop at two or three and say, “That’s enough for me. It’s all we need for dinner.” Sometimes we would lean the guns up against the back of the duck blind and just sit, watching the ducks fly by or land in the decoys. I recall one morning when we never fired a shot. We sat quietly with the morning sun against the rear of the blind as it illuminated the iridescent plumage on waterfowl, which lit hesitantly in front of us for enough time to realize that there were a couple of guys, each eating half an orange just a few feet away.

Ted would come to Kinloch in the winter when the birds were there. He would also come in the spring just to be there when the azaleas were in full bloom, complemented by dogwood blossoms. He would often ask me to drive him out in the truck and leave him somewhere so that he could walk home. We would occasionally see each other in his Atlanta office when I was there for meetings, where evidence of his fame and business success was on display. I choose to remember the man who was just as satisfied to ride in a truck with the window down or sit in a chair with his boots in the mud, admiring the natural world around him.

My experience working with Ted must include the people at Kinloch, for whom I will always have great respect, as well as the many guests I met. It includes the organization behind us that supported us as we toiled in the heat and cold in exchange for the satisfaction that followed. I have not carried a gun in the field since. My time at Kinloch has had a profound effect on me. I will always be grateful.