Sequel To Per Stirpes or Per Capita
Bob Blain had to decide what to do on his death with all his wealth except Gnarly Pine Plantation, the five thousand acre quail plantation outside Thomasville his family had owned and stewarded since 1895. He could leave it to whomever he chose without estate tax concerns because it was held in a trust for him that was not transfer taxable when he died. His family was gone except for his six grandchildren, ages fourteen to thirty. None of them could afford to own it alone, but as partners—all or some of them—might be able to swing it. Big problem for Bob, he did not know them well enough to judge whether some or all would be suitable stewards for this special place.
Gnarly Pine was a gem in nature. It consisted of red-hills old-growth longleaf pine forest dotted with small fields that in earlier years had grown corn and cotton for sharecropping tenants who worked it with mules, with half the open acres fallowed each year and allowed to grow ragweed. In recent years those fields had been devoted to cover crops for wildlife, turkeys, deer, especially quail, as advised by experts at Tall Timbers Research Center and Conservancy.
It held wooded swampland with adjoining cypress-strewn ponds holding bream and bass and attracting wildfowl, and nearby shallow impoundments in which crops were planted then flooded for ducks. It was criss-crossed by hunting-course paths that also served as horseback riding, cycling and walking trails. It had been groomed according to the Herbert Stoddard formula of burn, disk and fallow. Now it’s quail were fed broadcast grain, millet or corn, year round.
It’s Big House was modest but stylish and comfortable with porches on three sides and floor-to-ceiling French doors along the fourth, east, that opened to a deck and overlooked a lake lined by cypress hung with Spanish moss. At dusk ducks could be seen flying in to light upon its waters from the dining and living rooms serviced by those doors.
It held five bedrooms, each with its own bath. It’s gun room served also as a man cave, its walls hung with painting of favorite bird dogs and retrievers and hands that had served as dog trainer-handlers, scouts, mule hunting wagon drivers, grooms, butlers and gardeners. Adjoining it was a ladies parlor of equal size whose walls were hung with paintings of cooks, maids, governesses and nurses who had served in the winter seat of the Blain clan for fourteen decades.
The subjects of the paintings of humans in the two rooms were 85% black. All reflected the subject’s human dignity, often revealing the subject’s sense of humor. And all also revealing the plantation owners’ affection for the subjects.
Surrounding the house were horse and mule stables, paddocks, kennels and puppy lots, a manager house and a half-dozen cottages for other help. Flower gardens surrounded the Big House on two sides, lawn on the others, all bordered by towering long leaf pine forest. Approaching the curtilage by a red clay lane lined by huge ancient live oaks one was magically cheered by its beauty.
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After conferring with Ben and his pal Sam Nixon MD, who was also Bob’s family doctor (Sam hated the modern designation primary care physician), Bob came up with a plan to get to know his grandchildren. He invited each to come spend three days with him at Gnarly Pine. In the case of the two youngest he also invited the surviving parent, the widow and widower of his deceased son and daughter. The visits were repeated several times.
They were not strangers to Gnarly Pine. They had spent Thanksgiving or Christmas holidays here in alternating years all their lives, but that was all. Bob suddenly realized his grandchildren were virtual strangers. In contrast, his wife had stayed engaged with the children and their families through their marriage, visiting in the children’s homes several times each year for days at a time. Bob was filled with guilt and regret that he had not been more like his wife, a common theme in his grieving for her.
Bob found the visits magic for him. He questioned the grandchildren about their lives and they in turn questioned him, all as they shared the beauty of Gnarly Pine on mule-drawn sulky rides over the hunting courses and at meals. He learned of their fears and ambitions. They learned of his struggles in business and ultimate success, leading to the sale of his business in time for a happy retirement spent with his wife and their grandmother here in winter and on the coast of Maine in summer. He was gratified at the universal love for his wife—their grandmother—expressed by them.
His time with his children’s surviving spouses proved especially rewarding. He quickly realized his children had chosen well. He also realized they, like he, were struggling through the grieving process. He learned too that his children had not left them very well off financially. On the positive side he had a means to remedy that. He vowed that in his remaining years as steward of Gnarly Pine they would be frequent guests. He enjoyed their company. In what would prove an accidental stroke of genius, Bob invited his children’s surviving spouses to spend the Christmas holiday with him at Gnarly Pine.
A year after Bob’s first meeting with Ben he came to meet again. He invited Sam Nixon to join them. As the three were gathered in Ben’s library-conference room, Bob opened:
“Here is what I have learned, and what I think I want to do, if it’s possible. All the grandchildren love Gnarly Pine, and I believe they would all want to be owners of it, if they can afford it, and if the cost is shared among at least say four, I think they can. Ben, can you craft a way I can exercise my power of appointment over Gnarly Pine so each can become a partner at my death if they choose, or not? And a way that if a partner later wants out, he or she can get out without too big a haircut but also without jeopardizing Gnarly Pine as a family enterprise and retreat?”
Ben responded: “I thought you might decide that, and I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. Yes, I think we can come up with a workable plan, if your grandchildren want it to work and will be reasonable with one another. I’m glad you have thought about the exit provision. I can give you a draft in a couple of weeks.”
Then Bob rejoined, “By the way, I also want to provide a life income to my children’s surviving spouses out of the trust I can appoint. Draft it with the annual amounts blank and we can discuss.”
“I am glad to hear that, Bob. “ Sam said. Sam knew a bit about each of them, Ben and Bob realized.
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Six months later, Bob called Ben’s office for another appointment. Joanne detected glee in his voice. She set a date and Bob advised that Sam Nixon would also attend.
Bob asked for a 4 PM time so she knew the appointment would be followed by drams of The Macallan.
At the meeting Bob said, “Boys, I have some wonderful news. My son-in-law and daughter-in-law are getting married to one another at Christmas, and at Gnarly Pine. And they say they would like to live there in retirement. I’ve told them move in as soon as you like, I am lonesome and there is plenty of room.”
After a couple rounds of The Macallan, Bob departed for Gnarly Pine, his butler at the wheel.
“Gnarly Pine seems like an enchanted place,” Sam said.
“Yes, and it has some fine Bream fishing,” Ben said.