Posted April 21, 2015

 

I received word this morning that the mother of a good friend of mine had died yesterday. And not just any friend – the friend who gave me my first big “break” into textiles and introduced me to this wonderful industry. News of her mom’s passing brought back a flood of memories from my days at Fieldcrest Cannon in Kannapolis, N.C., in the early-to-mid 1990s.

 

We were strangers when I walked in for a job interview after applying through a classified ad in The Charlotte Observer. But she apparently saw something in this eager, ambitious 30-something-year-old sportswriter with no textile or corporate communications experience. She hired me as editorial assistant of the employee newspaper distributed to 25,000 employees, retirees and affiliates of America’s largest towel manufacturer. I have been forever grateful to her for “rescuing” me from the brutal 24/7 world of newspapering. Having been perpetually ink-stained herself, she knew that world inside out.

 

During my four years at the company, I toured just about every plant and learned the textile manufacturing process from the ground up – grasping at least enough to understand the difference between weaving and warping and collecting a whole new vocabulary that included such words as dobby, heddle and roving. I wrote about everything from equipment installations to world-class manufacturing to technical processes to financial reports to advertising copy, interviewing everyone from the sweeper to the CEO.

 

My favorite person to interview was the employee who had reached a 50- or 60-year milestone with the company. All of them, in some way or another, reminded me of my great-grandmother, with Depression era experiences that shaped their lives and gave them a much deeper appreciation of things. And each of them had a story to tell, humble as it was, in their own unique way. And I believe those profile stories were some of the most inspiring, honest and authentic I’ve ever penned.

 

My friend’s mother was one of these longtime manufacturing employees at the company. Although I never interviewed her, I spoke with her on numerous occasions. She was a weaver who had spent her working life at Cannon Mills/Fieldcrest Cannon, as so many residents of Cabarrus County had. She was genuine, unpretentious and salt of the earth – and of a generation that appreciated a job AND the employer who provided one, with the work ethic to prove it. So many hourly employees of her ilk looked at a 12-hour work schedule and, without hesitation or complaint, said, “bring it on.” They had mouths to feed and bills to pay, and you couldn’t keep them away if you tried.

 

Unfortunately, we are fast losing that generation of fine folks from an era that forged America’s boom post WWII, be it in textile mills, auto plants or coal mines.

 

Today, I salute “Miss Annie” and her colleagues who, through hard work, humility and a gentle spirit, paved the way for this great American industry. I thank them for their service, sacrifice and loyalty – and for the tremendous legacy and lessons they left us.