For Jessie Breaux, farming wasn’t just a career; it was a way of life passed down through generations. “I farmed for 32 years, but I also grew up on a farm,” Jessie says. His family’s connection to the land runs deep, tracing back to his great-grandfather, who was a farmer until he lost his property lease in 1917. Remarkably, years later, Jessie unknowingly ended up farming that very same land. “One of my great uncles stopped me one day and said, ‘You realize your great-grandfather farmed that property?’ I didn’t know that until I went to the courthouse and checked the records.”

Jessie’s father worked as an overseer at Katy Plantation, a role his grandfather and great- grandfather had also held. “They watched over the crews and decided what needed to be done and when,” Jessie explains. His family’s ties to the plantation extended beyond farming. “I had a great uncle who was a blacksmith and a cousin ran the company store. For generations, we were all connected to agriculture in some way.”

Katy Plantation, situated between Baldwin and Franklin, was where Jessie grew up, learning the values of hard work and perseverance. Those lessons stayed with him as he built his own farming career. In 1982, with only $6,000 to his name, Jessie partnered with a friend to buy the farm he had been working on. “It wasn’t easy. A friend stopped on the side of the road as I was fixing a flat tire. He told me he’d heard I wasn’t going to make it. I told him, ‘Well that’s news to me!’ That was a driving force for me,” Jessie recalls. “I just kept pushing forward, fixing flat tires, and doing whatever it took. And I made it.”

Jessie takes pride in the hands-on approach he brought to farming. “Somebody once asked me if I was a truck farmer—one of those guys who sits in a truck with his arm out, smoking a cigar or a cigarette. I never did that,” he laughs. “I drove the harvester and tractors, got dirty, got muddy, and made my own repairs. When I couldn’t fix something, I’d call for help, but I always tried to do it myself first.”

Despite the demanding nature of farming, Jessie found joy and fulfillment in the work. But when it came time to retire, it wasn’t an easy transition. “It took me two years to get farming out of my system. We worked seven days a week for 100 days straight during harvest. When I stopped, I felt like I should still be doing something,” he says.

“Did you know sugarcane came to Louisiana with the Jesuit priests in 1795?” Jessie begins. “They brought it as a sweetener, and for years, people would boil it down into a thick syrup, leave it on their counters, and scoop a bit into whatever they needed to sweeten. It wasn’t until a Creole named Étienne de Boré figured out how to crystallize sugar commercially that things really changed. That process has been refined ever since.”

Today, Louisiana’s sugarcane industry is a $4 billion powerhouse, with 11 mills spread across the state. Jessie served as a director on the board of the St. Mary Sugar Cooperative, Inc. for 28 years, witnessing the industry grow and adapt. “Everything is so advanced now,” he notes. “A lot of the equipment is computer-driven. From a room of computer screens, we can monitor the temperature on every bearing and track the steam pressure in the boilers.”

The harvesting season in Louisiana kicks off mid-September and wraps up by early January—weather permitting. “Mother Nature controls our timeline,” Jessie says. “Once Hurricane season is over, our biggest fear is a freeze. We can’t afford delays.” After harvesting, the cane is transported to raw sugar mills. “We call them raw sugar mills because they produce raw sugar and blackstrap molasses,” he explains.

“At the mill, the sugarcane is squeezed to produce a murky liquid,” Jessie explained. “We add lime to it, which helps settle out all the impurities. What’s left is a clear liquid, but it’s still mostly water. That liquid is then boiled to remove the water, and what you’re left with is a dark, black, syrupy product. That syrup contains the sugar.”

Jessie continued, “Next, we cook the syrup again until sugar crystals start to grow. It’s a real art—sugar boilers from Costa Rica, who’ve been coming to St. Mary Coop for over 30 years, know exactly when the crystals are just the right size. At that point, they drop the material into big tanks. Then it’s spun in a centrifuge at 1,200 RPMs. The molasses is sucked off the sugar crystals, which is then stored in the warehouse and sold to refineries where it’s processed into refined sugar.”

Jessie proudly notes that Louisiana’s sugar is sought after not just for food products but also pharmaceuticals. “Louisiana Sugar Refinery, which is 50% owned by Louisiana Farmers and Cargill, processes only our sugar. They produce white and liquid sugar, even shipping to companies like Hershey’s, Smuckers, Kraft, Pillsbury, etc.

He added, “The molasses can be recycled two or three times and is stored in huge tanks at the mill. By the end of the crop, we’ll have around seven million gallons of molasses. We sell it to feed lots, where they mix it with corn or other products to feed cattle. It’s full of nutrients and helps moisten the feed so the animals can eat it more easily.”

Sustainability is a cornerstone of sugarcane farming. “At the start of the season, we reclaim last year’s bagasse—the fiber left after juice is extracted—to fuel the boilers. Once the mill is running, it powers itself with steam from burning the boilers. We hardly use gas unless there’s a problem.”

Jessie also highlighted a new development: “There’s a new facility that opened in December. It’s going to take excess bagasse from the factories, process it into pellets, and use them as fuel. Most of the pellets will go overseas to the UK to be used as fuel instead of using coal or natural gas. It’s a big deal over there. This plant will handle bagasse from five factories, store the pellets in Burnside, La., and ship them overseas by barge.”

“Sugarcane isn’t genetically modified in Louisiana,” Jessie emphasizes. “The varieties we grow are developed through cross-pollination. It takes 12 years to get a new variety ready for the field. They’re bred for higher sugar content, better root systems, and even disease resistance. But over time, varieties lose their vigor. They get weaker, less sweet, and yield less. That’s why we’re always working on new ones.” This dedication to research and development ensures the crop remains productive and sustainable for future generations.

“Sugarcane farming is tough, but it’s vital. We’ve been doing this since the 1700s, and we’re not slowing down,” Jessie remarked, emphasizing the resilience and importance of the industry. For generations, sugarcane has been a cornerstone of the community, supporting local economies and feeding global demand. Despite the challenges, the commitment to innovation and sustainability ensures that this time-honored tradition will continue to thrive, connecting the past to the future with every harvest.