Michigan
Cutting it: Shrinking Michigan market favors big, modern sawmills over small operators
Large modernized sawmills dominate market as small operations close
Large modernized sawmills dominate market as small operations close
Onaway— As general manager of a mid-Michigan sawmill for more than 25 years, Todd Smith has seen the state’s industry shrink, battered by foreign competition, inflation and a shortage of skilled workers.
Now there’s a new worry for him and 110 other employees at Devereaux Sawmill in Ionia County: tariffs imposed by President Donald Trump in an effort to force manufacturing of all kinds back into the United States.
“A lot of lumber gets exported to China and, even though we don’t export a lot to China, all the lumber that was going there has to go somewhere else,” Smith said. “So when trade into China gets cut back or cut off … it can flood the market. My hope is that the tariffs in the end will be more of a benefit than they are of a hardship right now.”
In the meantime, the levies add to the headwinds for Devereaux and other Michigan sawmills that turn lumber into cabinets, furniture and trim pieces as part of the state’s $26.5 billion forest products industry. According to research from Michigan State University’s Department of Forestry, the number of sawmills in Michigan declined to 237 from 257 between 2018 and 2023, while the number of small operators plunged 43% from 1990 to 2023. Overall, the state’s industry lost more than $211 million in output and 1,100 jobs between 2019 and 2023.
That consolidation has ripple effects for local economies. The report cited the closure of two Besse Forest Products Group mills in the Upper Peninsula last year that resulted in more than 100 layoffs as highlighting the fragility of rural communities dependent on mill infrastructure.
“In one area, there is investment happening in the sawmill, which created a job, and another area where the mill is closed, people lose logging as a particular rule of economics,” said Jagdish Poudel, an assistant professor of forest economics and policy at MSU.
To Smith, it’s a simple but challenging calculus: Get bigger or get gone.
“You have to grow in order to stay profitable, and the smaller places seem to be struggling and getting squeezed out, which is too bad in a way, but that’s kind of the way it is,” he said. “Farming seems to be going that way, and some of big-box stores squeeze out the little hardware (stores), and our industry is quite similar. There’s still some operators who can get it done, but if you’re not growing and getting bigger, then it’s harder to keep the doors open.”
Up north in Cheboygan County, Precision Hardwoods is among the Michigan sawmills getting bigger.
This year, the business, which employs more than 80 people, completed a $20 million expansion that includes a new 45,000-square-foot facility that uses artificial intelligence and other technology to cut lumber in seconds — allowing the company to process up to five times the amount of chopped wood for industrialized crates, boxes and pallets as before.
The project, which included the hiring of 18 more employees, was aided by a $130,000 Michigan Business Development Program performance-based grant from the Michigan Strategic Fund.
Owner Mike Sturgill said he’s seen small sawmills close, which is why his facility on M-68 just west of Onaway not only processes lumber but handles logging, too. That, he said, makes Precision less dependent on outside forces than some competitors.
“We can have control of our future and control of what we do; we’re not relying on someone else to help us,” Sturgill said. “(Whereas) they’re at the mercy of competing against everybody else for logs and trucking capacity.”
Sturgill spends his days in a control room overseeing the new AI system that quickly measures hardwood and softwoods like maple, oak, beech, birch, aspen and pine logs, decides how to cut them, and also kicks out logs that have metal inside or are too bulky to cut. It can send more than 5,000 logs per day through the machine compared to less than 750 per day with the old industrial sawmill.
“This mill operation was $20 million,” he said. “It’s a lot of investment. You have to be sure you want to do this … you got to be in it for a long time before you can recoup your investment.”
He went ahead with the expansion despite being in a market he says has been oversupplied since 2022, in expectation that the housing market will rebound. He’s optimistic that Trump’s tariffs will help, too.
“The market’s been pretty saturated and kind of slow for the last few years, but you can’t keep adding more people to the country and not use more houses, supplies,” Sturgill said. “I think the tariffs are helping us. The more we have to buy here and build here, it will help the industry in general. It’ll be some tough times to get there, some inflation, but ultimately it’ll be better.”
Like the owner, employees such as Joe Burrows, a maintenance worker who joined Precision Hardwoods in April as part of the expansion, are keenly aware of the shakeout among Michigan mills with 50 or fewer employees.
“I know there’s some small mills around here that have closed over the years,” said Burrows, who helped set up parts of the new mill and paint its floors.
Fluctuations in timber prices and increased operational costs contribute to the closures. Larger sawmills benefit from advanced machinery and automation, which enhance productivity and reduce labor costs. Small mills frequently lack access to such technologies, making it difficult to compete.
Smith, the Devereaux general manager, said other challenges include finding qualified loggers and handling customer orders that have grown more specialized over the past two decades.
“The logging profession seems to be dwindling. Finding good quality loggers that still harvest the way that we do … with a chainsaw, it is becoming kind of a dying profession,” he said. “Finding loggers has become a bit of a concern in our industry in Michigan.”
On the customer side, Smith said, “Orders have become a lot more technical. Twenty years ago, we could sell full loads of one common hard maple. Now it’s like 1,000 feet of this, 2,000 feet of that, sprinkle on a little bit of this … everybody wants just enough,” he said. “The markets are unpredictable (and) nobody has a real positive long-term outlook. It’s not like doom and gloom either, but nobody wants to get too carried away. Everybody’s operating with caution.”
mjohnson@detroitnews.com
@_myeshajohnson
Michigan
Man arrested for firing shots outside Michigan domestic violence center
Michigan
I discovered anti-Zionism at the University of Michigan. I’m glad it lives on there
Pro-Palestinian demonstrators gather for a mock trial against the University of Michigan’s Board of Regents on the university’s campus in Ann Arbor, Michigan, on April 21, 2025. Photo by Jeff Kowalsky / AFP / Getty Images
At the University of Michigan’s recent commencement ceremony, history professor Derek Peterson delivered a five-minute speech in which he celebrated all those who have fought for justice at the university, my alma mater. Invoking our legendary sports-focused fight song, he asked the crowd to “sing” for suffragist Sarah Burger, who battled to get women admitted as students; for Moritz Levi, Michigan’s first Jewish professor; for all the students who fought for racial justice at Michigan as part of the Black Action Movement; and for the “pro-Palestinian student activists, who have over these past two years opened our hearts to the injustice and inhumanity of Israel’s war in Gaza.”
Peterson’s address was a historian’s invitation to every student and parent in the Ann Arbor stadium to recognize that the fight for Palestinian rights shares roots with our greatest movements for justice, including the struggle against antisemitism.
The backlash, predictably, was swift. The university’s president apologized; the speech was condemned by pro-Israel Jewish organizations and outlets; and I know it upset many college parents, my Gen X peers — we who were raised to believe with all our hearts that Jewish identity and Zionist identity are inextricable.
But to me, Peterson’s speech was a reminder of one of the most important lessons I took away from my time at the University of Michigan: that questioning Zionism is a necessary part of any Jewish life that aims to center justice.
I graduated from Michigan in 1989, and spent much of my last year in Ann Arbor ensconced at Hillel, where I edited a magazine for Jewish students. I’d grown up going to Young Judaea summer camps and had spent a college semester in Israel, where I’d witnessed the beginning of the first Intifada. I returned to find a shanty in the middle of campus that had been erected, a student organizer told our magazine, “to bring the uprising to the community. It is to show the conditions of the Palestinians and the brutal oppression of the Israeli army.”
The shanty evoked those then prevalent on campuses everywhere to symbolize the struggle of Black South Africans against settler colonialism and apartheid. The new shanty on our campus asserted that these words also applied to Israel.
While I was strongly against the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza — where Israel would not remove any settlements until 2005 — I was distressed and confused by the shanty’s silent, everpresent message about Israel’s past and present. Is Israel an apartheid state, I wondered?
So I put that question on the cover of our magazine.
The Hillel director called me into his office and somberly expressed his concern. But Hillel International had not yet officially clamped down on student activities that question Israel and Zionism.
So our cover story ran and we dropped our magazine in bundles across campus. At the time, I thought of myself as a liberal Zionist, and I secretly rooted for the student who tried to disprove the devastating charge. But as young journalists, my fellow magazine staffers and I were committed to exploring the views of those who erected the shanty, no matter their hostility to Zionism. We didn’t code the hostility as danger. No one thought we should report our ideological opponents — the kids who fell asleep on their books in the library just like we did — to the dean or to the government for arrest or deportation.
Over my time as an undergraduate, I’d come to recognize in these kaffiyeh-clad Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim students the same history-minded, righteous hope that animated me.
Decades later, in the spring of 2024, we all watched as pro-Palestinian student activists — including many Jewish students — set up campus encampments around the country to protest Israel’s assault on Gaza. At Michigan, the encampment was set up on the Diag, the university’s public square, where on the day of my own graduation I’d protested the university’s military research. As the mother of a recent college grad, I was humbled by the determination of these kids, who put up tents, organized teach-ins, and then suffered as police turned off their bodycams and used pepper spray against them. They were lawfully protesting for the university to divest from Israel as it bombed the people of Gaza, the children of Gaza — which is now home to the largest number of child amputees in modern history.
What I understand, and Professor Peterson understands, is that the student activists that he lauded at the commencement are fighting not against Jewish life but for Palestinians’ right to survive daily, as people, and as a people. These activists have asked us to understand, finally, that Zionism is what it does.
“It has been hard work to examine my own mind,” Tzvia Thier, a Jewish Israeli mother, wrote in an essay in the 2021 collection A Land With A People: Palestinians and Jews Confront Zionism. As a child, Thier immigrated to Israel from Romania in the wake of the Holocaust. In 2009, Thier accompanied her daughter to “protect” her while she joined an action to fight the evictions of Palestinians from their homes in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah. Thier was 65, and realized that it was the first time in her life that she had had conversations with Palestinians. She understood then that “it was not my daughter who needed to be protected, but the Palestinians.”
“Many questions leave me wondering how I could have not thought about them before,” she wrote. “My solid identity was shaken and then broken. I have been an eyewitness to the systematic oppression, humiliation, racism, cruelty, and hatred by ‘my’ people toward the ‘others.’ And what you finally see, you can no longer unsee.”
When that shanty went up on Michigan’s campus in the late ’80s, I began to question all that I’d learned about Israel’s founding. I began to question the very idea of an ethnostate — in the name of any people, anywhere — that enshrines the supremacy of one group of people over another.
By the time I became a mother, I’d become anti-Zionist. I understood — with a grief that does not abate — that, as Jews, our history of oppression has become an alibi for Israel’s oppression of the Palestinian people.
We must reject the bad faith accusations of antisemitism that have emptied the word of meaning and enabled authoritarian repression. When students on campuses today charge Israel with apartheid and genocide, they are echoing reports from B’Tselem, Israel’s leading human rights organization. I ask the parents of my generation to read these reports and do as Thier did — to allow themselves to see what we have not wanted to see.
I stand with the more than 2,000 University of Michigan faculty, staff, students and alumni who have condemned the university’s response to the commencement address heard round the world.
For the sake of all of our children, I ask that we each do all we can to open our community’s heart to Palestinian history and humanity. That we each join the urgent struggle for the liberation of the Palestinian people.
This is the way that our Jewish college kids will find the deep and true safety of community: by leaving hatred, fear, and isolation behind; by honoring Jewish history by standing in solidarity with all who are oppressed; and by roaring in a stadium for freedom and justice, along with their entire generation.
You are surely a friend of the Forward if you’re reading this. And so it’s with excitement and awe — of all that the Forward is, was, and will be — that I introduce myself to you as the Forward’s newest editor-in-chief.
And what a time to step into the leadership of this storied Jewish institution! For 129 years, the Forward has shaped and told the American Jewish story. I’m stepping in at an intense time for Jews the world over. We urgently need the Forward’s courageous, unflinching journalism — not only as a source of reliable information, but to provide inspiration, healing and hope.
Support our mission to tell the Jewish story fully and fairly.

Michigan
Thumb Coast Electric earns Michigan 50 Companies to Watch honor
Thumb Coast Electric has been named a 2026 Michigan 50 Companies to Watch Award recipient, according to a community announcement recognizing high‑growth, second‑stage businesses across the state.
The Port Huron‑based electrical contractor was honored April 22 during the 22nd annual Michigan Celebrates Small Business Gala, where company representatives were recognized onstage alongside other awardees before an audience of more than 800 business owners and supporters.
The award is presented by Michigan Celebrates Small Business, which annually recognizes companies that demonstrate strong growth potential, sustainable competitive advantages and a commitment to their communities. Thumb Coast Electric is listed among the 2026 honorees in the Michigan 50 Companies to Watch category.
Recognizing second‑stage growth
The Michigan 50 Companies to Watch Award honors second‑stage companies — defined as businesses with six to 99 full‑time‑equivalent employees and annual revenue or working capital between $750,000 and $50 million — that are privately held and headquartered in Michigan.
“These companies represent the future of Michigan’s economy,” said Brian Calley, president and CEO of the Small Business Association of Michigan, which partners in the awards program. He said the designation recognizes businesses that combine consistent growth with strong workplace culture and community impact.
Judges from economic and entrepreneurship development organizations across the state select winners based on employee or sales growth, sustainable competitive advantage and other indicators of long‑term success. Award finalists also undergo a due‑diligence review before final selections are made.
Community and company culture
Thumb Coast Electric representative Erica Chisholm said the recognition reflects both employee dedication and community support.
“Receiving the Michigan 50 Companies to Watch award is a huge honor because it reflects the hard work our team puts in every day and the support we’ve had from our community,” Chisholm said, according to the announcement. She said the company has focused on sustainable growth, investing in its workforce and maintaining quality standards as it expands.
Michigan Celebrates Small Business launched the 50 Companies to Watch program in 2004 and has honored more than 1,200 businesses statewide over the past two decades.
This story was created by Dave DeMille, ddemille@gannett.com, with the assistance of Artificial Intelligence (AI). Journalists were involved in every step of the information gathering, review, editing and publishing process. Learn more at cm.usatoday.com/ethical-conduct.
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