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Judith Sams, now 77, grew up in the White Oak mill village, located in Greensboro, N.C.
She was born in 1940 at St. Leo’s hospital and brought home to 20th Street, where, along with her parents, who both worked in the mill, her aunt and grandfather, also White Oak employees, lived. Some member of the extended family was always living with them; her aunt Lily May took in boarders, as many families did. Judith’s mother worked in the weaving room; her father was a beamer, a skilled position that required close, painstaking work, and “if he had a bum day,” meant less pay. Whatever your job at the mill, the work was hard. Lily May, who was short, stood on an overturned box to perform her job. But except for every now and then about the heat, they didn’t complain. They had a job.
And they had a house. With five rooms, typically, including a living room with a stove, two bedrooms that could be divided for more sleeping space, a kitchen that ran the length of the back, and a bathroom just outside, big enough for a galvanized washtub when it was bath time. No one owned their house; the inexpensive rent depended on the number of rooms. Judith dislikes surviving photographs that show the streets and houses as stark, severe. Her own yard was grassy and full. Every property had a fruit tree or shrub, also planted by the mill: pear, plum, fig, apple. Spruce Street was so named for the many spruce trees planted along its borders.
Judith no longer lives in Greensboro. But in her Whispering Pines home, particular pieces of furniture hold special significance, and not just because “Company Store” is stamped on their bottoms. A chair from the meeting room in the recreation center, where she and her husband Paul first met. A bureau from Lily May’s house. A wicker porch chair, in which her mother held and sang to her.
Photographed, Friday, July 14, 2017, in Whispering Pines , N.C. JERRY WOLFORD and SCOTT MUTHERSBAUGH / Perfecta Visuals
She was born in 1940 at St. Leo’s hospital and brought home to 20th Street, where, along with her parents, who both worked in the mill, her aunt and grandfather, also White Oak employees, lived. Some member of the extended family was always living with them; her aunt Lily May took in boarders, as many families did. Judith’s mother worked in the weaving room; her father was a beamer, a skilled position that required close, painstaking work, and “if he had a bum day,” meant less pay. Whatever your job at the mill, the work was hard. Lily May, who was short, stood on an overturned box to perform her job. But except for every now and then about the heat, they didn’t complain. They had a job.
And they had a house. With five rooms, typically, including a living room with a stove, two bedrooms that could be divided for more sleeping space, a kitchen that ran the length of the back, and a bathroom just outside, big enough for a galvanized washtub when it was bath time. No one owned their house; the inexpensive rent depended on the number of rooms. Judith dislikes surviving photographs that show the streets and houses as stark, severe. Her own yard was grassy and full. Every property had a fruit tree or shrub, also planted by the mill: pear, plum, fig, apple. Spruce Street was so named for the many spruce trees planted along its borders.
Judith no longer lives in Greensboro. But in her Whispering Pines home, particular pieces of furniture hold special significance, and not just because “Company Store” is stamped on their bottoms. A chair from the meeting room in the recreation center, where she and her husband Paul first met. A bureau from Lily May’s house. A wicker porch chair, in which her mother held and sang to her.
Photographed, Friday, July 14, 2017, in Whispering Pines , N.C. JERRY WOLFORD and SCOTT MUTHERSBAUGH / Perfecta Visuals

