SEBASTIAN — A visit to Kroegel Produce feels like stepping back into another era. “People tell me that all the time,” says Tim Timinsky who with wife Carey runs the small family business, a Sebastian icon of sorts tucked under a canopy of oaks at the southern end of Indian River Drive at U.S. 1.
The octagonal wooden structure sits on land owned since the late 1800s by the Kroegel family, a name virtually synonymous with Sebastian.
Timinsky’s mother, Janice, was the daughter of Rodney Kroegel, and granddaughter of Paul Kroegel, whose statue can be seen across from the park on Riverside Drive. It is the likeness is of a man holding a pipe, gazing toward a small island, a pair of pelicans at his feet.
Paul Kroegel immigrated to Sebastian from Germany in 1881 and homesteaded with his father on about 100 acres of land along the west bank of the lagoon.
President Theodore Roosevelt established that 5-acre island as the first federal bird reserve, Pelican Island, to protect the birds being slaughtered by the hundreds to supply the fashion industry.
Paul Kroegel was named the first national wildlife refuge manager.
Like his mother and grandfather before him, Timinsky grew up along the river, an idyllic childhood he cherishes. He loves to tell how, as a boy, he would “get up early, jump in my jon boat with my surfboard and shoot up to the Sebastian Inlet to surf before school.
“I’d come home still in my baggies with my hair filled with salt. We were on the water all the time. This is a great place to grow up. And now our son Joshua is the sixth generation living on the same piece of property.”
Timinsky sits on a wooden swing suspended from a vine-entwined oak, talking about the family and the produce stand, as customers come and go in a steady stream.
“Hey, Tim,” a man calls, “where are the green beans?”
“Just inside, to the right,” Timinsky calls back.
Another man comes up to shake his hand and tease, “Hey, get back to work.”
A tow-headed 6-year-old boy sits under the tree reading a book while his mom browses among the vegetables.
“This is a good spot. Look at all the cars going by,” he observes solemnly.
Timinsky smiles and nods in agreement.
Produce has been sold on the same shady corner for generations, said Timinsky, first from the front porch of a house, long since gone, save a few foundation stones.
“They grew green beans and then some oranges and grapefruit.”
About 40 years ago a Grover Anderson leased a bit of the corner property from Timinsky’s dad and sold vegetables out of the back of a truck.
“My father said we’ll put you up a nice little building.”
And he did – a very simple, sturdy structure which stood until a fire destroyed it and took out much of the oak canopy as well.
“You can still see the blackened side of that tree,” Timinsky points. “That was when the current building was constructed. Then, Anderson took ill and the stand stood empty.”
Timinsky and Carey had been sweethearts, off and on, since junior high school and married at St. Helen’s Catholic Church in 1988.
After a few years managing for a drug store chain in the Tampa area, Timinsky became frustrated with the way the employees were treated and the couple returned to Sebastian.
“My dad said, ‘Why don’t you try running the produce stand?’”
Ultimately, Timinsky did.
“We took it over and we’ve been here ever since. Plus, I don’t have to put on a tie in the morning and I can wear flip-flops to work.
“After the economic downturn, things really got tough. I have to say kudos to the county and city officials who really helped businesses through that. People don’t know how much those decisions affect small business. Without that help I don’t think we would have survived.”
But survive they did.
These days, the gravel parking areas are usually crowded, as customers gently inspect the selections and have conversations about vegetables.
It is a place for neighbors to meet, share stories about jobs and children, a pleasant, welcoming place, inviting customers to slow down and smell the … tomatoes.
The stand sports citrus colors and aqua trim. Strung from oak to oak, a wide black netting shades the entire building.
A well-trodden brick walkway leads to the open front, around boxes, baskets and cartons of produce heaped on a cable spool table, an old wooden cart, battered fruit crates, and along the counter inside.
The produce includes watermelons, bags of black cherries, fat emerald cucumbers, plums, red and green cabbage, squash, onions, key limes, peppers, red mangos.
And box upon box of beautiful tomatoes in all sizes – the divas of the produce stand.
The Timinskys and their employees, who have been with them for years, keep things running smoothly, all the while chatting with customers.
“That’ll be $4.87,” Carey tells a couple. “You got off easy today.”
The Timinskys get local produce whenever it is available.
“We are proud to say if you have something on your tree and it falls to the ground, bring it in, even if you aren’t a farmer. Something grown here stays on its tree and gets its nutrients. We have a special area for local stuff. We give all the local growers their own special spots.”
To supplement inventory and provide items such as asparagus, persimmons, artichokes, dates and figs, which are not fond of local soil, the couple goes to a wholesale farmers market in Tampa two or three times a week.
“Now,” Timinsky says, “we are starting to have Florida-grown peaches! Yes! At Premier Packers at the west end of Oslo Road.”
Timinsky is happy to see the change in people’s attitude toward what they put in their body.
“Ten – 15 years ago, they didn’t care what veggies do for you. Now, people ask for special things. That is the beautiful part of the business.”
Both Tim and Carey wouldn’t live anywhere else. Sebastian is the only place they want to call home.
“When you’re young, you just want to get out,” Carey said. “You just don’t realize what you have until you see other places.”
“We’re blessed to have a business like this,” said Timinsky.
