Because I grew up in Florida’s white-sand Panhandle, I consider myself a connoisseur of our most beautiful beaches. Trust me when I tell you the ones in Fernandina Beach are quite lovely — 13 miles of pristine quartz sand at the tip of Amelia Island, fronting the Atlantic Ocean close to the Georgia border.

A couple of years ago, “Southern Living” named Fernandina one of the South’s Prettiest Towns, in part because of its 52-block historic district that includes Florida’s oldest bar, the Palace Saloon. Adding to the enjoyment of my visit there, Fernandina is the birthplace of Florida’s modern shrimping industry, and I love shrimp as much as Forrest Gump’s Army buddy Bubba.

So, imagine my surprise when I heard that the multinational corporation Rayonier wants to build a factory there. Not just any factory, either. It’s a bioethanol plant that would produce about 7.5 million gallons of the alternative fuel each year.

Not everyone in Fernandina Beach is thrilled about this.

“We’re not against ethanol,” Julie Ferreira of the Sierra Club’s Nassau County chapter told me this week. “We’re just against where they want to put it.”

Among other things, opponents are worried about the tendency of such plants to blow up. In just the past two years there have been ethanol plant explosions in Iowa, Illinois, Nebraska, Kentucky, Wisconsin, and South Dakota.

Six explosions in two years — that’s not exactly a reassuring safety record.

The city’s comprehensive plan for future growth specifically says no chemical or petroleum plants are allowed to be built in Fernandina Beach. The city’s own attorneys said that means Rayonier can’t legally build this plant in the city.

But Rayonier disagrees, contending that its plant would not use chemical processes and thus isn’t covered by the comp plan. Its efforts have been aided by its connections with some powerful folks. That includes the mayor, who coincidentally works for Rayonier.

So far, the company has the upper hand in this fight — thanks in large part to our fine Florida Legislature, which recently changed the rules on challenging pollution permits.

Picture David versus Goliath, except David has to tie one hand behind his back, because of course the Legislature felt sorry for poor Goliath.

Just like beer

Rayonier built its first plant in Fernandina in 1937, so it kiiiiind of fits with the historic district.

That plant is a pulp mill, turning wood into paper products. It employs more than 300 people.

A year ago, the company proposed using a sugar byproduct of the pulp process to create ethanol, which is used not only as a fuel additive (more than 98% of gasoline in the U.S. contains some) but also as food coloring and a solvent. Rayonier proposed this because “there is growing demand for renewable alternatives to petroleum-based products,” company spokesman Mark Homans told me. “We’ve operated in Fernandina Beach for nearly 85 years. To stay competitive, we have to keep innovating.”

“Fundamentally, the process … is the same fermentation process used to make beer,” the company’s attorneys contended in a legal motion. Somehow, though, breweries don’t blow up nearly as often.

Ethanol “is a cleaner, greener alternative to fossil-fuel based gasoline and will help sustain 300 good-paying local manufacturing jobs, be good for local property values, and support the economy in Fernandina Beach,” the company boasted on its website. It even promised that the ethanol plant would lower the amount of harmful air pollution now spewing from the pulp mill.

I’d contacted Rayonier officials to ask for their safety plans for this $50 million grenade — er, excuse me, plant. Homans told me the plant “will include a dedicated fire suppression system and continuous monitoring technology and will also have its own concrete containment area. … It will fully comply with all local, state, and federal regulations.” That last part sounds, as one notorious Florida grifter put it, like “a concept of a plan.”

In March, the Florida Department of Pitiful Shrugs — er, excuse me, “Environmental Protection” — issued a notice that it intended to approve the plant’s air pollution permit. That spurred 150 residents to crowd into what the local paper described as a “country-western themed auditorium” to figure out how to fight back. Yee-haw!

Not joining the fight: Fernandina Beach Mayor Bradley Bean. He’s the son of U.S. Rep. Aaron Bean, who is such a great friend of nature that the League of Conservation Voters gave him a lifetime score of 0%. Clearly, the apple didn’t fall far from the poisonwood tree.

LinkedIn shows the mayor is employed as a storeroom supervisor at the Rayonier pulp plant. He’s also a huge fan of his employer’s ethanol plans.

“This is a huge, huge environmental win locally and globally,” Bean told the Nassau County Chamber of Commerce in August. “The environmental win locally is the significant reduction in emissions. … I think with that being said, it’s a no-brainer when it comes to what we currently have versus the final state.”

He added that the opponents were spreading ” a lot of misinformation out there about safety.” That comment particularly ticked off Tom Budd, president of No Ethanol Fernandina, who said any misinformation was coming from proponents of the plant.

“This product should not be produced on a barrier island, so close to residences, schools, churches, and our historic downtown,” Budd told the Fernandina Observer.

But soon Budd had to back down, thanks to Florida lawmakers.

A Looney Tunes plan

When I talked to Budd this week, he told me he was directly affected by Rayonier’s ethanol proposal.

“I live in the shadow of the plant,” the onetime New Jersey tavern owner told me. “When I learned they wanted to add this to the plant, I was curious, so I started to learn about it.”

He not only attended a happy-talk town hall that Rayonier put on, he invited Rayonier officials to visit his home and explain it to him. The main question he asked was a variation on the one Sir Lawrence Olivier asks Dustin Hoffman in “Marathon Man”: “Is it safe?”

The more he heard, the less he liked what was in the works. That’s how he wound up as the head of the No Ethanol Fernandina coalition.

“It became obvious to me that this was a Looney Tunes plan,” he told me.

No Ethanol Fernandina’s first step: challenge the ethanol plant’s DEP pollution permit. Their attorney filed for a trial in front of a judge from the state Division of Administrative Hearings.

“This project did not meet … applicable statutes and regulations required for preconstruction review.,” the attorney, Ralf Brookes, wrote in the petition for the hearing.

Budd had a professional chemist lined up to testify to the problems with the permit, and at no charge to the organization, either. The case was as good as they could make it — not to stop the plant, but to ensure it would be required to be as safe as possible, Budd explained.

The frequently finicky division agreed that Budd’s petition raised legitimate questions that deserved a fuller investigation. The hearing was set for Nov. 18-20, and in Fernandina Beach to boot.

The two sides took depositions from the witnesses and filed what attorneys call “interrogatories,” which is a $200 word meaning “questions.”

Rayonier refused to provide answers, claiming everything about its manufacturing process was proprietary and confidential. Budd and Brookes had to ask the judge to straighten that out.

But then Rayonier played its ace in the hole, one provided by the Legislature.

The company’s stable of high-priced attorneys from Lewis, Longman and Walker notified Budd and Brookes that they would file a motion for sanctions to punish them for what they called a “frivolous” lawsuit.

That would mean Budd and Brookes would be on the hook for Rayonier’s legal fees, estimated at $300,000.

Brookes, a sole practitioner, said he couldn’t risk that. He withdrew from the case.

Budd’s own family members who are in the legal profession in other states told him the motion had no merit. But Budd said he couldn’t find anyone else in Florida who would take over the case.

“I don’t know how I could go forward without an attorney,” Budd told me. “So, I had to withdraw.”

Now there will be no hearing on the permit and nothing to stop DEP from issuing a flawed version to let the project continue.

Balanced like the Leaning Tower

The law that allowed Rayonier’s corporate attorneys to make such an outrageous claim was the brainchild of state Sen. Danny Burgess, R-idiculous, who happens to be a corporate attorney himself in Pasco County.

You may recall that Burgess sponsored one of the worst environmental bills last year, one that would have gotten rid of local regulations for cleaner water and protection of wetlands. Thank heaven that one failed to pass.

This bill, however, did pass and Gov. Ron “I Saved Everyone from Stinky Weed Even Though It’s More Popular Than I Am” DeSantis signed it into law without a qualm.

It called for environmental groups and residents to be forced to pay the legal fees for companies and state agencies if they challenge state environmental permits and lose. Before this bill, losing a challenge only involved such a risk if the case was clearly frivolous.

“Whoever is sponsoring that bill — why don’t they just come out and admit they don’t want there to be environmental regulation in Florida?” one environmental attorney commented to Politico when it was first filed.

Burgess called that hyperbole. He claimed it was “a balanced bill,” which is true only if you think the Leaning Tower of Pisa is balanced.

Burgess’ bill marked one more way our legislators have tilted the law in favor of their donors — major corporations like Rayonier, rapacious developers, phosphate miners, Big Sugar — and against anyone who dares to stand in their way. Their goal: Discourage dissent, which can slow down construction plans and cost money.

But Budd told me the Fernandina fight isn’t furnished.

Elections have consequences

The first step happened Tuesday, when Mayor Bean lost his bid for reelection to the city commission.

The no-brainer mayor was beaten by Joyce Tuten, a retired science teacher who volunteers for sea turtle patrol, shorebird nest protection, and horseshoe crab tagging. She’s made it clear that she’s not a Rayonier fan, as Bean has been.

When she first heard about Rayonier’s ethanol plans, she told a Jacksonville TV station, her reaction was, “Whoa, wrong location.”

Bean wasn’t the only loser in the commission races, either.

“Every race was won by candidates who favor No Ethanol Fernandina,” Budd told me.

With no one challenging the DEP permit, the crucial decision now is the city building permit. But that permit doesn’t require a vote of the city commission, Budd said. Instead, the decision to issue it or not would fall to the city manager, who works for the city commission.

The just-hired city manager is a woman named Sarah Campbell. She’s married to Congressman Bean’s district director, which may have helped with her hiring.

Campbell replaced a guy named Dale Martin, who was fired last year on a 3-2 vote led by Bean. I’m told Martin was opposed to the ethanol plant because he’d worked in Savannah in 2008 when the Imperial Sugar plant there exploded.

While the decision now seems to be up to Campbell (who starts the job later this month), there’s a catch. Any official who wants to approve the ethanol plant permit will first have to find a way around the comprehensive plan’s ban on chemical plants. It’s either that or amend the plan, Budd said. The latter would require a vote by the commission.

In short, he said, despite withdrawing his permit challenge, “I’m still in the fight.”

I wish Budd and his allies the best of luck. But I’m sure someone in Tallahassee is monitoring the situation and plotting how to tip the scales of justice juuuuust a little further in favor of those unpopular, occasionally exploding polluters. I’m as sure that’s happening as I am that there’s lots of sand at the beach.